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say-al0e · 2 years

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Don’t Let Go

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Steve Harrington was your best friend. He was the one person you swore would never hurt you. But when high school rolled around, Steve went searching for a place to fit in while you went searching for yourself. Now, years later, the universe has brought Steve Harrington back to your life and he doesn't plan on leaving again. | Ft prompt request: “I want you to be happy.” “You make me happy.” + “I think I’m in love with you.” + “You’re the only one who gets to call me that.”

Warnings: Absent parents (Steve’s parents), emotionally abusive parents (reader’s parents), Steve was kind of an asshole in high school (but not really), best friend!Eddie, Steve listens to Hall and Oates unironically.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Word Count: 17.9k (I’m so sorry. I really, truly, terribly am.)

Stranger Things Taglist | Stranger Things Masterlist

Steve Harrington, dressed in a striped polo and the garish green Family Video vest, didn’t so much as bat an eye as you approached the counter.

There was no greeting, no forced customer service voice or Harrington charm - or lack thereof, as of late. Instead, he delivered a deadpan, “Someone else rented The Evil Dead,” as he continued stacking return tapes. “You really should just buy it at this point.”

The scent of his cologne, something woody that had always made your head a little dizzy - always blurred the sharp edges of your biting jabs and warmed the ice in your chest - enveloped you as you leaned against the counter. The surface was sticky beneath your elbows, as it always seemed to be, but you ignored it and grinned at him, cloyingly sweet.

“If I did that, how would I get to annoy you weekly?”

Annoying Steve was, originally, not your goal. The first time you stepped into Family Video, you’d only wanted to rent a movie - a handful of them, actually, for a movie night with Eddie. You’d been expecting to see Keith behind the desk, prepared to deal with his wandering eyes and slightly off-putting smile, but the sight that greeted you instead was a surprise.

News of Steve’s hire had spread - Robin was a friend, she’d excitedly shared the news almost immediately - but, almost naively, you believed Keith would remain at the desk and you would, blessedly, avoid Steve’s presence. You’d been doing it for years, sidestepping him every chance you got, but your luck ran out.

Though Steve was surprised to see you - the last time you interacted, it was after your high school graduation and you’d run off the moment you were allowed - he was polite, professional, almost friendly. There was a light in his eyes when he recognized you, a genuine curiosity when he asked how you were doing, and you were baffled because Steve Harrington hadn’t been nice to you in a long while.

You weren’t sure if it was the shock of seeing him, the surprise when he made an effort to be polite to you, or maybe it was the years of repressed anger at how he’d treated you in high school. Regardless, you could admit that the interaction wasn’t your finest moment. Every nicety he shared was met with snark, bitter and biting, and he deflated almost immediately.

Guilt bubbled on your drive home but some small part of you felt glad that you’d managed to leave with your dignity in tact.

Since that day, your interactions became more frequent - there was little else to do as you spent your summer in Hawkins - and seeing the twitch of Steve’s jaw when you met his kindness with snark made you feel just a touch better before it made you feel worse.

The roll of his eyes, the quiet huff of breath as he focused on sorting tapes into genres, made you laugh. “I’m not here for The Evil Dead this time, though. I’m looking for Nightmare on Elm Street. I want to make my parents regret locking me away on a Friday night.”

In a rare moment of annoyance - directed at you, anyway - Steve scoffed. “As if you were doing anything better with your night.” He paused, hands hovering above the counter as if he’d only just realized what he said, and you huffed. When you rolled your eyes, he spared you a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s about the principle, Stevie. Spiting the parents and all.” You waved a hand, silver of your rings glinting in the florescent light - drawing soft brown eyes, half-lidded in exhaustion and exasperation - and frowned as you fixed him with an accusing look. “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”

Though it had been years since you’d last spoken about anything other than surface-level bullshit - chemistry exams and pep rallies, basketball scores and the weather, a fallen tree blocking the road to your houses - your bond had been forged in fire by commonalities few knew you shared.

The only real difference between your parents and his was that yours were occasionally racked by guilt - just enough self-awareness to demand a family night once every few months with the declaration that things would change, family time would become more important - before starting the cycle of neglect all over again.

Steve grimaced, a look that confirmed your assumption, as you shrugged. There was no need for him to confirm what you already knew to be true so you carried on. “Anyway, my brother’s coming home for the weekend so it’s time to pretend we’re a functional family.”

Another grimace - this one stemming from a place of understanding as Steve Harrington knew all too well what it was like to be forced to pretend - as he turned to face you. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest with a thoughtful frown. “I thought your brother got married. What’s he doing back here?”

He didn’t just think, he knew - he was at the first wedding, offered you a cigarette and sat with you in silence as you both sipped beer in outrageously nice outfits neither of you would wear again; a kindness you hadn’t expected from him, one that seemed to make no difference when he ignored your presence at school the following Monday - but you still smiled at him just the same, as if you knew something he didn’t.

This was the first time Steve Harrington had really looked at you - soft brown eyes fixed on your face, intent and flecked with something warm - in years. The weight of his gaze settled on your shoulders, suddenly made you feel fourteen and shy again, but you did your best to keep your hand from trembling as you reached out to straighten a stack of pamphlets.

“Haven’t you heard? He’s been married, and divorced, twice.” Steve winced - he’d looked up to your brother once upon a time, just as you had, and you knew that the trajectory of his life hit home for Steve - and you weren’t sure what possessed you to be so flippant (maybe it was payback, a sick desire to make him hurt in the same way he’d hurt you for years) but you added, “And you thought your personal life was shit.”

It was a low blow, you knew that - you regretted it the moment you said it - but it escaped before you could think twice. The flicker of good will, something more hopeful than you’d seen from Steve Harrington in years, disappeared in an instant. It was replaced with a roll of his eyes, an exasperated sigh that made your stomach turn, and you bit the inside of your cheek as he turned back to the pile of tapes.

“Nightmare’s on the horror shelf. You know where to find it. If that’s all, I’ll ring you up and you can go. I’ve got shit to do.”

As Steve focused his attention on the dwindling pile in front of him, you swallowed a heavy sigh that tasted bitter. There was no point in apologizing - neither of you had done that; him for abandoning you in pursuit of popularity, you for resenting him for wanting somewhere to belong - so you ignored the pang of regret stabbing at your chest.

“By all means, keep working, Harrington. The longer I linger, the less time I have to spend with the mirror-verse Cleaver’s. Annoying you is just a bonus.”

Though he made no effort to turn his attention back to you, you could see the way his brows furrowed in confusion. He blinked and the question was slow to escape. “Mirror-verse?”

“Yeah. From Star Trek? It’s, like, the evil twin universe.” Steve swallowed hard, a reaction that left you minutely confused, and grimaced as he shook his head. When he scoffed, you huffed. “You’re best friends with Dustin Henderson and the merry band of losers, dude. You’re, like, nerd bait. Don’t judge me.”

Steve sighed and turned back to you, ready to deny the obvious - or remind you that just because he spent time with nerds, he hadn’t exactly learned much - but before he could so much as open his mouth, the bell above the door chimed.

All too quickly, his demeanor changed. Steve smiled, his most polite, parent-pleasing grin, and you bristled. Warm brown eyes flickered to your face and away again so quick you were almost certain you imagined it but you averted your gaze, anyway, as you clenched your jaw.

Across the store, your mother stepped inside Family Video with a grimace. She looked entirely out of place, pristine and pretty in a grimy den of movies she’d hate even the thought of, but she still brightened considerably at the sight of Steve Harrington.

Once upon a time, she - like his mother - swore the pair of you were destined to be, fated to be married and spend the rest of your lives together. The only attention they ever paid to the pair of you was when you were together and, when Steve left you behind, you fleetingly wondered if that was the only reason he ever looked at you in the first place.

That wasn’t the case and you knew it.

Once upon a time, Steve was your best friend - had loved you more than anyone, spent every waking moment glued to your side - and it was because you were more alike than you were different. You lived similar lives, had similar childhoods, and complemented one another in ways that made your lives significantly better. Steve made you happy but, more impossibly, he made your parents happy.

When things changed, when your best friend Steve became King Steve and you turned invisible - became friends with Eddie Munson and tried to find yourself amongst the chaos of high school - your mother blamed you for ruining the future she’d imagined you’d have. She huffed and puffed, bitter and biting, when you started wearing black and listening to metal. And when you declared you would rather die than become a trophy wife for some rich asshole - someone like your father; someone you thought Steve would never be but could easily become, if he wasn’t careful - she refused to speak to you for a week.

When you lamented high school and all its difficulties, informed her that Steve Harrington was no longer your friend because he’d rather join Tommy and Carol in their relentless teasing than even pretend he knew you, she sniffed and reminded you that it was your own fault for choosing to be different. She told you that if you tried a little harder - put some effort into your clothes, wore a dress and fixed your hair and makeup - maybe things wouldn’t be so hard. And maybe Steve would still be your friend.

So, it was no surprise that she was happier to see him than you.

“Steve!”

She smiled, bright and brilliant, and paused just a step from the counter to take in the sight of him. Though you could both see her disdain - she’d lamented what a waste it was for him to remain in Hawkins, how awful his parents were being by cutting him off only to turn around and contemplate doing the same when you decided to attend a private university within driving distance rather than a larger school in the city - she was still glad to see him.

“What a pleasant surprise. How are you, sweetheart?”

As charming as he could be, Steve’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he spared you a fleeting glance. His shoulders were too stiff, knuckles a little too white as he held tight to the counter, but to someone like your mother - someone who didn’t bother looking any deeper into anything not entirely about her - he looked perfectly pleased to see her.

“I’m good.” Steve nodded, though you weren’t sure who he was trying to convince - her or himself - and, just as he’d been raised, politely declared, “It’s nice to see you. It’s been a while.”

The last time Steve had the (dis)pleasure of interacting with your parents was at graduation. Your mother and father showered him with praise, congratulated his barely passing GPA in a way that neglected your own straight A’s - lauded his accomplishment in a way they forgot to do for you - and didn’t bother batting an eye as he sheepishly explained away his own parents’ absence. It was fine that they were busy, your parents told him, he could just join your family for dinner at Enzo’s.

For three miserable hours, you sat pressed close to Steve - neither of you sharing so much as a single glance, picking at food neither of you really cared to eat - while your parents prattled on about nothing in particular. He shared another cigarette with you in the parking lot after but the only words you exchanged were half-hearted congratulations, a soft acknowledgement from him that your speech had been nice, uttered right before you ran from the parking lot to climb into Eddie Munson’s awaiting van.

Now, Steve spared you a tentative glance as your mother set her sights on you.

Beneath his understanding, there was something unreadable. The look in his eyes was a little sad, a little soft, but a fire blazed in them that you couldn’t quite comprehend. It wasn’t quite anger, didn’t burn that hot, but a sort of determination that you decided not to question.

Whatever Steve Harrington felt, it was no longer your business.

Still, the combined weight of their stares - hers an icy disappointment, his a warm understanding - flooded your mouth with a bitter copper. Your skin heated and heart hammered against your ribcage, battering your chest in a way that ached. And instead of chancing a glance at either of them, of meeting their eyes and being reduced to embarrassed tears, you pretended to study the tarnished metal of one of your rings.

With the pleasantries out of the way, your mother seemed to realize that you had yet to find a tape and huffed impatiently. “Why are you just standing here? And where is the movie? I told you to find something your brother would like. We should’ve been home fifteen minutes ago.” From the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn you saw a twitch in Steve’s jaw as his gaze fell to the counter. “Next time, I’ll just find something myself.”

Another huff, one that needled at your already rubbed raw nerves and had frustrated tears prickling at the backs of your eyes, escaped your mother’s painted lips as she reached for a tape on the new release shelf. “Steve, dear, what do you think of this one? You know my son. Do you think he’d like it?”

When you finally chanced a glance at Steve, the weight on your chest grew impossibly heavier. He was never quick to anger, never outwardly volatile, but you remembered the little tells. The twitch of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the set of his mouth; he was annoyed and you were embarrassed.

Without so much as a glance at the tape, he nodded. “Definitely.” His agreement was easy, sure, but his tone was mild and disinterested. He wanted her - and you - gone. “It’s been a hit. Everyone likes it.”

Steve’s less than glowing review was more than enough for your mother. She didn’t care, not really, so she nodded and slid the tape across the counter with a satisfied smile. “Then we’ll take it.”

In her own way, you knew that your mother meant it - she did really like Steve, though most people who got to know him seemed to, irritatingly enough - but that didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered in that moment was how long it would take for you to make it out of the store and back home, how long until you could lock yourself in your bedroom and hide until your parents demanded you be sociable, how long until you could sneak out your window and ask Eddie for something to help you forget - how long until you could escape the suddenly pitying look Steve Harrington shot you as your mother dug through her bag for her wallet.

The look in Steve’s eyes - a nauseating combination of understanding and sympathy, sorrow and contempt - made it that much harder to hold yourself together. He knew your family, knew what your life was like behind the large house and rich parents, just as you knew the same about him. That mattered little, however, when you no longer knew one another.

Steve’s sympathy meant nothing to you, was more embarrassing than comforting, and he seemed to realize what you were feeling as he blinked and returned his attention to your mother. She simpered and Steve’s answering smile looked entirely artificial to you.

“Always so helpful, Steve.” She shot you a withering look then, one that clearly read ‘unlike some people,’ before offering him something a little more real. “It really has been nice seeing you, sweetheart. Don’t be a stranger.”

Then, without waiting for his reply and without so much as a word to you, she turned and headed for the door. She wouldn’t leave you - that would potentially tarnish her reputation, someone seeing you trudge home on the side of the road - but she would huff and puff the entire ride home, louder the longer you took to follow.

With a weak smile, one you knew Steve could see right through, you took the tape from the counter. “See you around, Harrington.”

If he offered a reply, it was lost to the ringing in your ears as you rushed from the store and into your mother’s idling car. And though she spent the vast majority of the drive home lamenting what could’ve been - “Steve is so handsome. If you hadn’t decided to be different, just to spite us, the two of you would’ve made such a beautiful couple. You might even be engaged by now! He’s such a nice boy. What a shame you spend all your time with those… freaks.” - you were grateful to have escaped Steve’s scrutiny.

The last person you wanted to pity you was Steve fucking Harrington.

When you arrived home, despite your mother’s sharp demands for you to stay put, you bounded up the stairs and locked yourself in your room. There was no chance she would follow - no chance anyone in your family would so much as make it halfway up the stairs to berate you - so you did little to stop the frustrated tears that fell as you took a seat on the floor beside your record player.

As you dug through the crate of records, searching for something loud your family would hate, you spotted the little white shoebox hidden behind it all. Your fingers shook as you reached for it, hesitant as you hadn’t opened it in nearly four years, but it was already difficult to catch your breath - tears already blurred your vision - so you tugged it free.

Very rarely was your mother right. In the case of Steve Harrington, however, she was rarely wrong.

Though you hadn’t decided to be different - you just were; your existence serving to spite your parents was just an added bonus of finding yourself - the decision to live the life you wanted rather than the one they wanted for you was the catalyst that destroyed your friendship with Steve.

At fourteen, Steve wanted nothing more than his parents’ approval. He was desperate, almost, in a way that you never were for them to pay attention to him. It mattered, more than almost anything else, and the thought initially made you sad.

He deserved better than a family that never really wanted him - a family that made him feel as if he had to earn their love - and you told him that. But Steve wasn’t quite ready to listen.

Steve liked sports but he pushed himself to the limit, practiced basketball and swimming in hopes of earning his father’s praise. He didn’t particularly care for Tommy or Carol or any of the other pretentious douchebags he managed to befriend, but their parents knew his and his were the most well-off, meaning he became something of a leader. His father seemed pleased he’d managed to become the leader of the pack, clapped his shoulder the first time he saw Steve take charge - grinned when someone called him ‘King Steve’ - so he kept at it, despite your declaration that he deserved better.

While he desperately tried to make his parents happy, you accepted that nothing you could ever do would be good enough for yours. There was no point in making yourself miserable seeking approval that would never come, no point in trying to be someone you weren’t. They would never be happy - even if you’d been their perfect little doll, they would’ve found some kind of flaw to fixate on - so you did what made you happy.

In the process, you and Steve lost one another.

In the beginning, Steve stood frozen whenever Tommy or Carol or one of his other friends chose you as the target of the day. He always looked conflicted, as if he was considering stepping in, but he never said a word. A few months into freshman year and he made himself scarce whenever you became the center of attention. There was always a girl he wanted to meet or a coach that needed him or a bathroom break he couldn’t wait to take and you wondered who he was really protecting - you or himself.

Though you’d known the same kids for most of your life, everyone seemed to have forgotten your friendship and you figured that, one day, Steve would, too.

The older you got, the less care Steve took to avoid being a part of Tommy or Carol’s tirades. He never instigated the attacks on you - was never the first to call you a freak or toss erasers at you in class - but he seemed almost resigned to their occurrence. Even the slight wince he once wore, a barely there twitch of his mouth whenever he realized you were the target of the day, disappeared with time. Instead, he looked on almost passively, as if he were watching something on television, not watching as his one-time best friend blinked back tears.

Eventually, he joined in on the fun.

For nearly two years, the sight of Steve filled you with as much dread as the sight of Tommy or Carol. He never took the first shot, was almost robotic in his mistreatment of you, but his jabs always managed to hurt the worst. The quips he hurled at you were never as graphic as Carol’s, never as biting as Tommy’s - always half-hearted, muttered because eyes were on him - but they cut far deeper than anything anyone else could level at you.

Steve’s insults were always performative but they chipped away at your heart each time. He knew you, had been the most important person in your life for so long, but that no longer seemed to matter.

Hellfire become your sort of protectors near the end of freshman year - Eddie Munson was never quick to violence, always had a worse bark than bite, but he ended up with his fair share of bloody noses and bruised knuckles on your behalf - and you grew to hate Steve Harrington.

Something changed in the middle of senior year - Steve came back from winter break almost resigned, deflated; seemed to become a shell of himself months later when Nancy Wheeler dumped him - and he suddenly kept his distance. He huffed orders for Tommy and Carol and the like to leave you alone, a sudden change of heart from the boy who’d been content to sit quietly for so long, but you no longer trusted him. You avoided him - turned your head any time he so much as glanced your way - and would’ve been content to forget you ever even knew him in the first place after graduation.

The universe, however, could be a bitch when provoked. Somehow, you’d managed to make a cosmic enemy and, for reasons unbeknownst to you, Steve Harrington began to worm his way back into your life.

First, he befriended Robin Buckley. For years, she’d been one of the only people outside of Hellfire you deemed safe enough to interact with at Hawkins High. Steve was once a pain in her side, too, but after a summer of working with him, she deemed him alright. Still, Steve was a forbidden topic when you spent time together - something you demanded, unfairly, you knew, but she respected - though, she did manage to sneak in a few words of praise here and there.

After that, he managed to become passively acquainted with Eddie by way of Dustin Henderson. The teenage pain was their only commonality, a shared ward who latched onto them both and received endless support in return, though both lamented their respective babysitting duties. Still, even Eddie had to give Steve credit where credit was due.

Outside of high school, away from Tommy and Carol and bullshit popularity politics, Steve Harrington wasn’t a bad guy and, as much as you hated being told, you believed it.

The Steve you remembered from a lifetime ago would’ve hated King Steve. He would’ve been horrified to see him be so complacent in your misfortune, would’ve called him pretentious and been annoyed by his very presence, and it hurt to be reminded of the past each time someone deemed Steve a nice guy. Your Steve, the Steve that was your best friend from age four to fourteen, was solidly good.

Sometimes, you missed him.

As your breathing grew more erratic, harder to control even as you inhaled through your nose and exhaled through your mouth, you dumped the contents of the shoebox onto the carpet. Immediately, a handful of photos caught your eye. The pile consisted of strips from a carnival photo booth, a stack of faded Polaroids, and a few photos taken by your mother on joint family vacations. In each one, Steve had an arm wrapped tight around your shoulders and was grinning bright, smile wider than you ever remembered seeing.

Scattered among the photos were little objects, trinkets Steve had given you - a charm bracelet he chose for your eighth birthday, including each charm he’d given you every year that followed; a snow globe from his trip to New York, featuring a miniature Statue of Liberty; a baseball, the first home run he ever hit, scribbled with a message thanking you for practicing with him; a locket, the gift he gave you on your thirteenth birthday, with a photo of you both stuck inside.

The most important object was the one that made you wonder if maybe your mother was right - if you’d just given in, lived the way they’d wanted and tried to be perfect, the daughter they imagined they’d have, maybe you and Steve would be engaged, well on your way to marriage by now.

It was a small, plastic ring - plucked straight from a bubble gum machine, complete with tacked on gemstones - but you remembered thirteen-year old Steve presenting it to you with a bright grin and glowing pink cheeks. He’d kissed you on the cheek, a quick peck that made your face heat, and held your hand for the rest of the night. You wore it, stuck on the same finger as your mother’s garish wedding band, until the first week of freshman year.

Now, instead of living in that world, one of which you dreamt nightly as a child - one you continued dreaming of occasionally until age sixteen, when Steve finally joined in on the fun of making your life hell, even if it was passive - you were stuck living in a world in which Steve Harrington just barely tolerated your presence.

This world, one in which you struck down every potentially positive interaction with him, saw you still mired deep in your betrayal. You still hurt, still tasted something bitter each time you allowed yourself to wonder ‘what if’ but you had half a mind to call Family Video and apologize for lashing out.

That was out of the question, however, as Steve would likely think you were joking and hang up on you. So, instead of humiliating yourself, you shoved the objects back into the box - taking great care to avoid breaking or creasing anything - and hid it away again, locked in the past where it could no longer hurt you.

With the box safely stowed away once more, you reached for the record player and switched it on - waited a moment for it to crackle to life. When Stevie Nicks began to flood your room, you fell back against the carpet and stared up at the ceiling. If you kept still, focused on your breathing, there was a chance your thoughts might slow as the opening notes of Bella Donna replaced the ringing in your ears.

As was usually the case, you lost track of how long you spent lying on the floor. The record needed flipping - you’d been lying in silence for what could’ve been hours, could’ve been only minutes - but the sounds of life carrying on around you played on a constant loop.

Your mother’s voice carried through the large house as she brushed off your absence by describing it as a temper tantrum. Your brother lamented the end of his second marriage, though you all knew it was his infidelity that brought him here. Your father clinked bottles as he mixed himself a drink, stoic and silent through the bullshit.

It was never-ending and you hated every moment of it.

A sharp tap against your window, long after night had fallen, finally broke the feedback loop. It captured your attention almost instantly, pulled you up from the floor with a stiff groan, and you scrubbed at your eyes - no doubt swollen and bleary from frustrated tears - as you wandered over.

It was likely a branch, fluttering in the cool spring air, but it could’ve just as easily been Eddie, bored and eager to break you free for a smoke session.

To your complete surprise, it was neither.

The sight that greeted you was enough to make you blink, rub your eyes a little harder and wonder if you’d fallen asleep - if this was some sort of truly ridiculous fever dream, inspired by your afternoon. But, as you pinched your wrist and blinked away the blur in your eyes, you realized that this was no dream.

Just as he had when you were barely teenagers, Steve Harrington stood beneath your window with a handful of pebbles and the ghost of a smile. He looked almost sad, melancholy, and you swallowed hard as you slid the window open halfway. When he realized your attention was squarely on him, Steve dropped the remaining pebbles in his hand and gestured for you to climb down.

There was a moment of hesitation, a question of why, but as a round of laughter echoed through the house - raucous and enough to make your blood simmer - you decided you didn’t care. His pity was the last thing you wanted but, in that moment, it seemed like a better alternative to remaining at home. You’d take Steve Harrington laughing at you over another moment trapped in your home.

With uncoordinated limbs, you gestured for him to wait before turning to rummage through your drawer for a sweatshirt - a security blanket of sorts. With it slipped over your head and shoes jammed onto your feet, you shoved the window open the rest of the way and pushed yourself through.

Steve stepped forward to help you to the ground, hand warm even through the fabric of your sweatshirt, and nodded - uncharacteristically quiet - at your soft declaration of thanks. The second you were steady, standing on your own two feet and blinking at him in the darkness, he took a step back. He cleared his throat, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and gestured for you to follow him with a nod of his head.

A split second of hesitation and you followed.

The path you’d forged in the woods as children was still there, renewed by Steve’s trudging in the darkness, and muscle memory pulled you along the few yards that separated your backyard and his. He held back limbs for you, careful to keep from hitting you with them as he stepped steadily through the brush, and held open the gate when you finally stepped into his backyard.

When the limbs cleared, you could see that he’d prepared for your arrival. Two sodas sat on the small table by the pool - a Coke for him, a Sprite for you - and a blanket rested on the chair to the right. Steve didn’t bother looking at you as he continued on. He crossed the concrete, settled into the chair on the left, head tipping back without so much as a word, and you were grateful.

Whatever this was - whatever reason Steve had to be nice, to go out of his way to resurrect a long dead practice from your childhood - brought tears to your eyes. You scrubbed at them to keep them from falling, swallowed the emotion burning the back of your throat, and followed him.

If he noticed - and, fleetingly, you assumed he had; Steve had proven himself to be a quick study, understanding in a way you didn’t remember - Steve said nothing. He remained uncharacteristically silent, not a single witty quip, and seemed content to sit side by side, sipping sodas and staring up at the stars.

As you draped the blanket over your legs, you allowed yourself a moment to reminisce.

This was, at one point, a regular occurrence for you both. After rough days - days your parents were particularly harsh, days his parents broke another promise - Steve trudged through the woods to fetch you. He plied you with soda and candy, junk your parents never let you have, and waited - patient, quiet - for you to decompress.

When your heart began to calm, the hammering against your ribs slowing to a steady thump for the first time since leaving Family Video, you realized just how much you’d missed it.

Steve remained silent beside you for a long while, stretched out in the chair in a way that told you he’d continued this practice long after you were gone, and you took the opportunity to study him.

There were elements of your Steve still there - the depth of his eyes, brimming with a thousand different emotions so deeply felt; the slight frown as he lost himself in thought, lips curling in the corners; the flutter of his lashes as he blinked away something that could potentially truly trouble him - buried beneath the hair and the cologne.

But, just as he did when you were thirteen, Steve Harrington still made your stomach flip.

It always irked your nerves that, even when he was the bane of your existence, you still believed Steve to be the most handsome boy you’d ever seen. It was unfair, cruel, but you blamed the years you spent in love with him for your infatuation.

Now, the sight of him bathed in the moonlight - worn by the world, older and maybe wiser, but still just as handsome as ever - had you spiraling in a way that you didn’t like at all.

The longer you stared, the more desperate you felt to break the silence. And though you hated to pop the blissful bubble surrounding you, the words filled your throat and threatened to choke you. There was nothing you wanted more than to pretend - to lay in silence as if nothing was wrong, as if your lives hadn’t changed entirely since you last shared a moment like this, as if you could exist beside Steve Harrington and not panic a little - but you couldn’t.

“Steve?” Even at a whisper, you flinched at the sudden sound. Steve, however, looked unsurprised by the call of his name. He tilted his head, flashed those warm brown eyes at you - glittering with a look you couldn’t quite read - and waited as you blinked. “I’m sorry.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, your apology was clearly not it. His mouth curved into a soft, confused frown as he pushed himself up to rest on an elbow. With furrowed brows, he asked, “You’re sorry? For what?”

For shooting down his efforts at civility, for dragging him into an awkward moment with your mother, for not following his lead in high school, for falling in love with him as a child and desperately hopping he would remain your Steve, for not being a person he could’ve loved in return - for being a mess who, despite no longer being friends, still needed his saving.

Each reason you considered sounded more pathetic than the last and you regretted breathing the words aloud in the first place. But when he looked at you, imploring you to speak - to give him an answer you couldn’t give anyone else - you shrugged.

“You’ve been trying. I’ve been mean.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He pushed himself to sit up straight, tossed his legs over the side of the chair and rested his elbows on his knees as he looked at you - really, truly looked at you.

It felt as if Steve could see into your soul as he searched your face. Gone was the boy you knew - a little awkward, a little misplaced confidence, a lot of heart - and in his place was a man you barely recognized. He shook his head once more, eyes falling to his hands, and laughed quietly.

“That’s… Don’t apologize for that. I deserved it.” He sighed then, a sound so exhausted you wondered how you hadn’t noticed the light purple beneath his eyes before that moment, and ran a hand through his hair. “I deserved a lot worse than that, honestly. I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry for…” He laughed, a rueful sound that made your chest ache, and dragged his hand through his hair a little harder. “I’m sorry for high school. I was a dick. I didn’t… I never meant to -“

Steve cut himself off with a sharp breath, words running together as he searched for just the right thing to say - the words he needed to adequately convey his feelings, his remorse - and you shook your head.

“I know. It’s okay, Steve.”

It wasn’t - not really - and you both knew that.

Though you understood, to a certain degree, there were still moments that left you reeling. There were moments seared into your memory that you would likely never get, regardless of his explanation, and a sense of betrayal that would fade with time.

But hearing a real apology from him, something heartfelt and sincere - honest, raw and vulnerable in a way he once often was with you - would break the dam holding you together. It would clip the fragile thread of stability you were clinging to desperately and, though he’d seen it before, Steve was now the last person you wanted to witness you breaking into a thousand little pieces.

Steve knew, seemed to realize just how close to shattering you were, and nodded. He turned, settled back into the chair, and rested his head against the metal bar. He shifted, weighing his words, before sparing you a glance from the corner of his eye. “It wasn’t cool, though.”

Your quiet laughter, tinny and hollow, covered the soft sounds of night. “No, it wasn’t. But it is what it is.” Though you knew you should bite your tongue, accept his apology for what it was and move on, you couldn’t help yourself. “It hurt but I wasn’t surprised.”

A flash of hurt crossed Steve’s face, so quick you almost missed it, and you wished you could take it back. However, before the words could linger too long - before you could stumble through another apology - he turned to look at you. There was something sad, a little more upset than you would’ve imagined, as he searched your face. “What d’you mean, you weren’t surprised?”

“We just… we went in different directions.” You laughed again - a soft sound that lacked any humor - as you shook your head. “Everyone loved you. Star basketball player, swim captain, prom king, ladies’ man; you were the shit. I played Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and spent my days hiding from guys who thought it was so funny to ask me out as a joke. I didn’t expect you to, I dunno, save me, or something, just because we were friends when we were kids.” You shrugged, avoiding Steve’s eyes as you leaned back against the chair. “Our friendship was too perfect. Nothing that good lasts forever.”

Steve’s jaw twitched, the only outward sign of his frustration - not at you, something you realized the moment he sighed, the moment he dragged a rough hand through his hair - as he smiled, a rueful grin. “Pessimism looks good on you.”

A surprised laugh escaped as you shook your head. “Thank my parents. One of the many impressive things they’ve given me. I can make myself, and everyone around me, sad in two seconds flat.” You scoffed, shook your head and turned your attention away from Steve’s sudden look of understanding to the stars glimmering above you. “It’s a real gift.”

Silence lingered for a beat and you had half a mind to apologize, this time for giving in to the instinctual cynicism you used to protect yourself, but Steve spoke before you could walk back your statement. His words were careful, almost hesitant, as he began, “Your mom today…”

That explained why he’d made the effort.

Your sigh was heavy, long suffering, but Steve was not someone you had to pretend with. If anyone understood what it was like to live with parents who never really cared one way or another, it was Steve. The foundation of your relationship was built on comforting one another, swearing that you would be better than your parents someday, and it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d witnessed something like this.

Steve had seen worse - so had you - so, despite your embarrassment, you made no effort to apologize for her behavior.

Another sigh, this one impossibly heavier, escaped as you spared Steve a glance out of the corner of your eye. He looked conflicted, his fingers twitched as if he was contemplating reaching out - offering the physical comfort he knew you once loved, once craved - but seemed to think better of it and wrapped his fingers around the nearly empty Coke can.

“They’ve gotten worse over the years,” you began, words bleeding into the dark as you tapped at the metal of your can. “I’ve been working, saving up money. I want to transfer to a school in Indy. I had a good scholarship when we graduated but I qualify for a full one now and I’ve almost got enough saved for a few months’ rent on an apartment.”

“Why’d you stay in the first place? You got into a bunch of schools, had a ton of scholarship offers.” When you spared him a cursory glance, unsure how he knew - hardly anyone knew, not even your parents - Steve smiled. “Robin told me.”

Since learning the story of your former friendship, Robin had made it her mission to reunite you and Steve. She swore he was still the guy you remembered, if only a little bruised by time, and promised to keep him in line. “It’ll be easier,” she declared once, “if we can all just hang out together. You guys are acting like divorced parents and I’m the kid in the middle.”

Steve’s searching gaze made your skin prickle. You warmed considerably beneath his scrutiny as he waited, patient as ever - genuinely curious, for your answer.

“I got a few good scholarships, but none of them were full rides. My parents would’ve paid the rest but I just… I didn’t want to owe them anything.”

Once again, Steve understood. He knew what it was like, desperately trying to avoid being indebted to parents who would hold even the smallest gift over your head, and made a quiet noise of understanding as he sipped at the remainder of his Coke.

As the conversation lulled, neither of you quite certain what to say to one another, you turned to study Steve.

There was a certain air about him that had always been there, an easy confidence that often saw him asking for forgiveness rather than permission, but he was older now. His confidence was less showy - less flash, more substance; an earned knowledge of who he was, who he had become - but beneath it, there was a softness that he no longer seemed to shy away from.

Steve was, once upon a time, vulnerable with you and only you. He trusted you, showed you a softness that no one else was privy to, but these days, he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve and you were glad. It made him more approachable, easier to truly see, and you saw flashes of him - little moments here and there as he flirted with girls at Family Video, pieces of his heart as he interacted with Dustin and Robin and Eddie - but there was a sadness beneath it all that hadn’t existed the last time you were this close.

Years had passed since you’d spoken to Steve for this long, let alone this in-depth, but you were reminded of just how easy it had always been to let him. Steve understood you and the ease with which you spoke, the way your heart calmed and your breathing grew easier, frightened you deeply.

There were still bitter feelings lingering, shards of hurt buried deep in your chest - anger, betrayal that he’d managed to forget your past in a matter of moments when it haunted you for years - but you understood. His apology would’ve explained what you already knew to be true, that he was just trying to belong, doing what he felt he had to, and that was the hardest pill to swallow.

Steve never meant to hurt you - the guilt that lingered in every glance he spared you assured you of that - but you still feared letting him into your life once more. There was no fear that he would repeat his past actions - that, you could handle, though you knew without so much as a second of doubt that he wouldn’t dream of it - but you feared the return of feelings long since buried.

Every feeling you ever harbored for him had been locked away tight, shoved into a box in the back of your mind - one that resembled the little shoe box in your room. Steve was your first love, the first boy you’d ever even considered wanting as more than a friend, and getting over him the first time had been nearly impossible.

Deep down, you knew that you’d never fully gotten over him - regardless of how awful he’d been at the time, of how earth shattering it had all seemed, he’d been your Steve for so long that it was almost denial. There was little chance you could escape a second round with your heart firmly in tact but, when he turned to look at you and offered you a small smile, eyes shining with a sort of hope you couldn’t recall ever seeing from him, you knew that you were doomed.

When he spent the next four hours plying you with embarrassing stories about Robin, about Eddie, about the children - all featuring him as the bumbling idiot, likely played up for your amusement - just to make you laugh, the impending sense of doom faded into something a little more resigned.

And when he walked you back home, shuffling in the first slivers of sunlight with a hand on your elbow to keep you upright as you blinked away sleep, your fate was sealed. As he helped you climb back to your room, standing beneath the ledge to make sure you made it safely - throwing a hand up in parting, a genuine smile on his lips - you knew that there was no use fighting it.

The universe had, without any sense of mercy, thrown Steve Harrington back into your life.

Still, change didn’t happen overnight.

Though something shifted - your world, the planets themselves - there was no expectation on your part that Steve would suddenly return to the best friend you once knew no did you want him to. You needed time, as did he, and you appreciated the little distance he kept as a week passed without any sort of contact.

There was no deluding yourself into thinking that he would become a near permanent fixture in your life again. If you were honest, you imagined his friendship would be relegated to mutual hangouts with Robin or the odd encounter as you waited for Eddie and he waited for Dustin. There was potential for a movie night, stuffed on the couch with him and other friends, or another night by his pool - both lamenting your lives.

But, as if summoned by the thought of him - the question of whether you should call and say thanks, tell him you appreciated his heroism in your hour of need - Steve popped back into your life.

You marveled as you found yourself standing in your kitchen, watching as he piled pizza onto a plate. He’d stopped by with the order you used to share weekly - half his favorite, half yours - after dropping Dustin and Robin at their respective homes. He knew your parents were out of town, as were his, and figured you hadn’t eaten yet.

Steve was almost sheepish as he explained himself, a little shy in a way you never would’ve associated with Steve Harrington previously, but you didn’t bother questioning it. Instead, you let him in and watched as he moved about your kitchen with startling ease.

It was almost surreal, watching him wander around the space as if he’d always known it - watching him gather plates and glasses, shuffle through the fridge in search of soda. But, in a way, he had. As children, Steve spent more time at your home than he did his own. Not much had changed since the last time you’d lived this exact moment - the only real difference was your age and his hair - but it still surprised you that he’d managed to remember his way around after all these years.

Another key difference, one that reminded you exactly how much time had passed, was the silence.

As children, it was nearly impossible to keep the pair of you quiet. Steve spent many nights at your house, lying in bed with you, and nearly every time, you were reprimanded time and again by your annoyed parents for being too loud. Hours were spent giggling, chatting about nothing - just listening to yourselves speak, so your parents alleged, but you’d shared everything; dreams, plans for the future, declarations that things would be different.

Now, it seemed as if neither of you knew where to start the conversation.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable - over the years, you’d both grown used to it - but, in that moment, your chest ached in a way that made you feel as if this particular silence needed filling. You’d spent the week desperately trying to avoid thinking about Steve - something that backfired and managed to turn most of your thoughts into ones about him - and what you wanted to say to him. There were years of thoughts and feelings bottled up tight, ready to be spilled, but uncorking any of that had the potential to ruin the delicate work being put into rebuilding your friendship.

So, you opted to smile at him - soft and sweet, saccharine in a way he wouldn’t expect - and play it safe.

“I think it’s nice, you know?” Steve lifted his head, glanced away from the pizza he’d been piling onto his plate, and raised an eyebrow in search of the context missing from your statement. “The time you spend with Dustin, Henderson, the kids,” you supplied as you glanced away and reached for your own plate. “Being all dependable and shit for them, being a good friend to Robin. Being civil to Eddie. It’s nice.”

Steve faltered for a brief moment, uncertain, before shaking his head. He looked ready to deny the obvious, something dismissive on the tip of his tongue, but you laughed before he could. “I’m serious. You’ve always been a good guy beneath all that hair, Steve. I’m just glad you found your way back to it, let other people see it. You got away from Tommy and Carol and all their bullshit, you left the high school rat race behind. You came back to the Stevie I knew way back when and I’m glad.”

A beat of silence, marked by Steve’s lack of response, pulled your attention away from the pizza box and back to him. His expression was unreadable, warm eyes clouded with something that made your stomach flip - something uncertain, something a little sad, a little introspective - but he covered it quickly with a half-smile when you met his eyes.

“You’re the only one who’s ever gotten to call me that, you know?” Steve’s smile grew a touch brighter when you blinked, surprised. “Stevie. It was always your name for me. It never felt right coming from anyone else.”

The declaration was soft, spoken into the warmth of your kitchen with a reverence that made your heart skip - one that made your cheeks heat and had your stomach filling with butterflies - and you swallowed the emotion gathering in your throat with a sip of soda. It was a small gesture, something that likely meant nothing, but it filled you with a blinding warmth, just the same. “I’m honored, Stevie,” you returned, smile soft, tone just as reverent.

Silence settled again - this one significantly more tolerable; less awkward, more bashful - but, as you watched Steve move, you felt no need to break this one. He stepped around you easily, moved with you, and you smothered every thought of how natural the interaction felt.

As you bother attempted to gather yourselves - you, choking down every returning teenage dream, every fantasy long since buried; Steve, swallowing the uncertainty, the guilt - you spared fleeting glances at one another. Each time your eyes met, you both turned away, suddenly shy, suddenly ashamed at being caught. The tips of Steve’s ears tinted red, burning bright when he tilted his head just so, and you knew that your face was warm to the touch.

It was strange, feeling this bashful in his presence, when a week ago, you had no problem looking him in the eye and snapping something that would hurt his feelings. Realistically, you knew that it was a safety net - a way to keep yourself safe, to guard your heart from any further damage at the hands of Steve Harrington - but before you could make a joke, return to your snark, Steve cleared his throat.

“I, uh, I know you said it was okay,” he began, voice quiet as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes, “but I’ve been thinking.” He leaned against the counter, folded his arms over his chest, and swallowed heavily as he took a moment to gather himself. “I just… I need to say this, okay?”

There was little room for you to question where the conversation was headed - there was only one topic that was relevant enough to warrant proper discussion. His apology was a long time coming, something you knew he needed more than you did, so you nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, fingers dragging through the strands a little too rough to be a casual gesture, and you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted copper as you waited with bated breath. He kept his eyes on the floor, not quite able to look you in the eye, and frowned.

“Everything that happened,” he began, words measured and clumsily falling from slightly chapped lips, “was on me. Even if we weren’t meant to be friends or whatever, I should’ve tried harder. You were always the person who believed in me, the one who was there for me, no matter what. I should’ve tried harder to stop Tommy and Carol and all the other assholes. I shouldn’t have been a dick to you, either. I was stupid,” he confessed, blinking hard against the light in the kitchen as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling - unable to meet yours as he continued on. “I was just trying to make people who didn’t matter like me. All I did was make the one person that actually did like me, hate me. And I’m sorry.”

Each word rang in your ears, repeated until you could barely hear the rest of his apology over the thudding of your heart - each beat hammering against your ribcage with enough force to leave you breathless. The acknowledgement made you want to give in to the pressure building in your chest, made you want to break apart into a thousand little pieces, but you gripped the counter and swallowed the copper flooding your mouth.

As Steve shook his head, lowered it to look at you, you could see the expression on his face. There was a guilt there, laced with something akin to awe - a reverence you’d never seen before that suddenly made your skin prickle with goosebumps - and you blinked back the tears threatening to fall.

“Steve.”

There were a million things you wanted to say, a thousand words stuck on the tip of your tongue - entire novels you could spout, devoted entirely to what you’d spent years thinking about - but nothing seemed quite right. Though you’d imagined this moment for years, desperately hoping it would come, now that it was upon you, you were stunned silent.

The acknowledgement that he’d hurt you, that you were right - he’d only been looking to belong, to fit, to find a family - and he regretted it was all you’d ever wanted. To hear it breathed aloud, spoken into the still of your kitchen from the mouth of an older, more mature Steve Harrington, was something straight out of a dream.

The apology didn’t erase everything that had happened - you both knew that - but it was a start. This was the first step, guiding you both in a new direction, and as you stood with a quivering bottom lip and shaking breath, Steve seemed to understand. He laughed, a sound that rang hollow over the blood rushing in your ears, and nodded.

“I know.” His mouth twisted into a rueful smile, something that openly displayed his regret, as he sucked in a deep breath. A shadow flickered across his face before he deflated entirely and shook his head. “You don’t have to… I know.”

Though it had been years since you’d had a meaningful conversation with Steve, he still seemed to be able to read you. He knew that you were overwhelmed, knew that your emotions were quickly getting the better of you - could see that your breathing had grown a touch shallow, that your chin quivered and your blinking grew more rapid - and that he was no longer someone you trusted with your upset.

Instead of pushing, he allowed his declaration to linger for another beat before clearing his throat. With that, he broke the spell, cracked in half by the scrubbing of his shoe against tile, and you were glad.

“I, uh, I missed you,” he confessed, a little hesitant - a little awkward - as he stepped forward to grab his plate. He spared you a glance from beneath his lashes and suddenly looked very much like the fourteen year old he had been the last time he stood in your kitchen. “Uh, hanging out with you. Being friends. I missed that.”

His explanation was rushed, clumsy in a way you weren’t used to for him, but it made you smile. It reminded you that he was human, still just some guy, and the feeling was mutual. You’d missed Steve more than you cared to admit, more than he needed to know, so you nodded. “Yeah.” Steve’s smile grew a touch more genuine as you nodded, really lit his eyes when you confessed, “I know the feeling.”

It wasn’t eloquent, nowhere near the novel you imagined spouting before you lost hope Steve would ever return to your life, but it was enough. It adequately conveyed your desire to start over and Steve seemed pleased, happy you hadn’t pushed him away entirely.

Steve smiled a little brighter before he blinked and suddenly patted the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, I brought a tape. Thought, maybe, we could watch a movie?”

From the inside pocket of his jacket, Steve produced a copy of The Evil Dead, battered and worn but clearly labeled - and marked with a Family Video sticker. It was a moment of surprise, the tape having been produced so quickly it made your head spin, but the levity helped you swallow the lump of emotion lodged in the back of your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you laughed as you grabbed your own plate and turned to guide him - needlessly, he knew the way - to the living room. “You don’t really strike me as a horror guy, Harrington.”

Steve followed close behind, his cologne clouding your senses - overwhelming in the most delightful way, a scent that made your head dizzy and your heart race; one that filled your nose and would linger in your memory as you picked apart every moment of your interaction later - and you struggled to keep your tone as light as possible as you spared him a sideways glance.

The observation was met with a laugh, a sound that confirmed your belief, as you took a seat at one end of the couch. “I’m totally not.” You tried not to laugh at his grimace, not wanting to add insult to injury, but Steve took no offense as he settled at the opposite end of the couch. “You rent it, like, twice a month, though, so I thought I should see what all the fuss is about.”

There was more space than necessary between you, your body pressed into one end of the couch while Steve pressed himself against the other, but it was understandable. Despite your history, despite the hundreds of sleepovers you had as children and the countless hours you spent pressed together, this - whatever was building, brewing between you both; whatever you’d managed to rekindle, resurrect - was new.

Regardless of how familiar some things felt - Steve’s smile, the quiet understanding you still somehow shared, the soft look in his eyes as he tilted his head to study you - everything was different. Everything had changed.

Letting Steve back into your life was a choice, one you made the moment you saw him standing beneath your window, and you knew that nothing would ever be exactly as it had been. He wasn’t the same Steve you remembered - not exactly, not quite close enough - but you weren’t the same girl he remembered, either.

The differences were glaring, more than evident as he cowered into the couch, pizza half-eaten and mouth twisted into a grimace with each bloody scene that flashed across the screen. Though the film was campy, not quite as terrifying as another horror film, Steve still seemed perturbed by the gore.

As the movie played on, you paid more attention to Steve than the familiar images flashing. He looked entirely unenthused - a far cry from Eddie, who sat with his nose pressed to the glass and watched with rapt attention and an almost childlike glee - but he never breathed a word of discontent. Each time he sensed you staring, eyes roving his face, he spared you a quick glance and the ghost of a smile. He was trying, that much was evident, and the thought was enough to make your body warm from within.

“Steve?”

A flash of relief, clearly illuminated by the light from the television, crossed his face as Steve took the opportunity to turn his attention from the television to you entirely as a particularly bloody moment unfolded. If you hadn’t been so focused, so caught up in your own thoughts, you would laughed at his sigh of relief. “Yeah?”

For a brief moment, you allowed the movie to fill the silence - allowed his eyes to rove your face in search of an answer - and frowned as his brows furrowed. He’d been gradually shifting closer, a few inches every so often, and nearly closed the gap between you as he tilted his head to get a better look at you.

As he shifted closer - just enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body - his scrutiny was enough to make your heart race. It hammered so hard against your ribcage that you feared it might crack and you hoped your voice wouldn’t shake as you tilted your head to meet his eyes.

“I never really hated you. I wanted to,” you admitted, voice soft - barely audible over the sound of the movie, but Steve heard you clearly. He inhaled sharply, the only sign of his discontent, as he waited patiently for you to continue. “I just… I couldn’t hate you. I hated Tommy and Carol and Billy and everyone else. I hated high school. I hated the circumstances. I hated our parents. But I never hated you. I don’t think I ever could. I get why everything happened the way it did. I don’t… I don’t blame you. And it’s all water under the bridge now, yeah?”

Steve swallowed hard, blinked harder, and you could see his chest rising and falling just a touch faster than normal as he searched your face. Warm brown eyes mapped your skin, wary of any hint of dishonesty - any sign that you felt forced to accept his apology - but when he found none, he nodded. The look in his eyes wasn’t quite relief, not quite joy, but a light that made it harder for you to breathe as the corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve nodded once more, a resolute gesture that you returned easily, before tilting his head to return his attention to the television. Another spatter of blood made him grimace but that did little to stop him from breathing a quiet, “Thanks,” as he nudged your shoulder with his own.

Desperate to change the topic, to move on to something safer - something that didn’t involve feelings, something that didn’t require emotional gymnastics - you laughed quietly at his grimace. “Do you want to watch something else? I think you’ve suffered enough for one night. I’ve got Robin Hood. Only normal movie in the place, though, I’m afraid.”

The knowing smile Steve shot you was not quite what you expected. “Y’know,” Steve began as you pressed pause, “that doesn’t really surprise me.” His eyes glittered with a grateful mischief and you raised a brow as he laughed. “I remember when we were kids, you loved that movie. I think you asked your parents to get you a bow for Christmas three years in a row before you stopped.”

“It was four.” Steve hummed, waved a dismissive hand as you stood from the couch to change the film, and you shot him a teasing grin. “Imagine if they’d gone for it, though. I’d be, like, on some kind of watchlist by now, probably.”

“I hate to break it to you,” he began, grin badly concealed as he reached for the discarded pizza on the table, “but with the amount of times you rent The Evil Dead, you’re probably already there. Do you watch anything else?”

Steve’s grin was comfortable, teasing and soft in a way you hadn’t seen in years, and it sent butterflies swarming in your stomach as you slipped Robin Hood into the VCR. The taunt was in good fun, the jab of a friend, and it made you roll your eyes good-naturedly as you returned to your seat, knee knocking his as you sat.

“Just because you have bad taste, Stevie, doesn’t mean you should be concerned. I mean, look at your taste. You like Hall and Oates. No one likes Hall and Oates. That’s enough to get you put on a watchlist, not liking horror.”

His knee knocked yours, body heat radiating even through thick denim, as Steve scoffed in faux outrage. “Hall and Oates are good!” His defense was louder than he intended, a teasingly outraged roar as he turned to you, eyes glittering in the dim living room light. “They’re real music. Not like…” He frowned, eyes narrowing as he met your gaze. “I can’t even name anyone you might listen to to make fun of you.”

“Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Motörhead, Megadeth, Metallica?” Steve stared blankly, blinking after each name, before shaking his head when you allowed the question a moment to linger. You huffed, unsurprised but still feigning disappointment, and Steve laughed. “Okay, if this,” you waved a hand between the pair of you, “is going to work, we’ve gotta get you educated. Metallica has a new album coming out and it’s gonna be out of this world. Ozzy, from Black Sabbath, he’s gone solo and his stuff’s killer. Totally insane. That’s real music. Not fuckin’ Hall and Oates.”

“I don’t know who any of those people are,” Steve admitted, laughing quietly as he shook his head, “but I’ll take your word for it.” He paused, tilted his head to meet your eyes once more, and smiled just a little softer. "Next time, you can educate me.”

The brief consideration that you would be given nothing more than this, a few chance meetings with an old friend, had been enough to make your chest ache, and the relief you felt at realizing that would not be the case worried you. Though it warmed you considerably, made your nerves buzz in the most pleasant of ways, there was still the question of why.

So much time had passed, years had gone by without so much as a kind word shared between the two of you, that you couldn’t quite understand Steve’s motivation. There was the chance that he’d missed you in the same way you’d missed him - felt that there was a void in his life, a blank space where there was once a piece of a larger puzzle - but there was also the chance that he was simply lonely. As far as you could tell, his social circle had minimized to little more than Dustin and Robin.

There was a chance that you were all he had left.

That thought did little to comfort you - you wanted him to desire your presence the same way you’d desired his, wanted him to have missed you in the same way you’d missed him - but you decided not to dwell on it. If Steve wanted to remain in your life for whatever reason, you would allow it. You were older, had more experience dealing with the crushing blows life could deal. Steve Harrington couldn’t hurt you much more than he already had; letting him have a piece of your heart, the piece that had always belonged to him, anyway, was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not.

The only thing you could do was temper your expectations.

There was no expectation that this would be anything more than friendship - something safe, a comfortable return for the both of you; a relationship you both needed if you were to continue living in Hawkins. As beautiful as you found him, as in love with him as you’d once been, that ship had long since sailed.

Steve had been your friend once - had only ever been your friend. There was nothing more there, no matter how desperately you’d once hoped for something more. Reminding yourself of that from the beginning would make the inevitable heartbreak that much easier.

As you thought, lost yourself to questions of what could be - what had already been - and harsh reminders of why this was a line of thinking you couldn’t afford to barrel down, the sound of Disney dreams echoed through the dim living room. Steve rested at your side, head cradled by the back of the couch, and seemed more relaxed than you’d seen him in a long while.

It was easy to lose yourself in something that felt so safe. Moments like this, sheltered safely away from family and losing yourself in the presence of Steve Harrington, had always been a great source of comfort. It was easy to forget nearly everything troubling you, to delude yourself into thinking that this was a safe space, and evidently, Steve felt the same as you both began to drift.

The exhaustion of your week crept up on you slowly, muddled the mess of thoughts crowding your brain and blurred the images dancing on the screen. Work had been grueling, busier than normal, and the presence of your brother meant that you were walking on eggshells with every step you took at home. Before you realized what you were doing, your head began tilting in the direction of Steve’s shoulder.

For a moment, you rested there. It was easy, settling against Steve as you had so many times as a child, but just as you did the first time this happened - a lifetime ago now - you lifted your head when he shifted.

Steve smiled, an exhausted quirk of his mouth, as you shook yourself awake. You shot him a sheepish grin, apology on the tip of your tongue as you blinked away sleep, but he silenced it with a soft laugh. He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and settled it over your laps, thigh pressed to yours as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. It was once a natural position, you wrapped in his arms as the world passed you by, and you blamed the exhaustion muddling your brain for the way your body melted into his instead of jolting away.

It was a reflex, you reasoned, muscle memory long forgotten. You’d had countless sleepovers with Robin, with Eddie; neither meant anything more than friendship and this, whatever it was, didn’t either.

When you made no effort to move, Steve smiled. “You’ve drooled on me before, sunshine,” he reminded you gently, voice soft in the quiet of the room, “get comfortable. I’m not going anywhere.”

The heat of his body pressed to yours, the scent of his cologne, his shampoo, the clean laundry scent of his sweatshirt, combined with the tangled web of questions - doubt and lingering resentment, baked in wariness - muddled your thoughts. The only response you deemed worthy of his declaration was a confused, “Sunshine?”

For a moment, the name lingered in the air, before realization seemed to hit you both. Just as you’d always called him Stevie - a soft nickname, not very original but always uttered with the utmost care, a sweet praise meant only for him - he called you ‘sunshine.’

It started as a joke, a nickname plucked from thin air on a warm summer day after too much time in the sun left you with a bout of heat exhaustion, but had ultimately stuck. Steve swore it was nice, a declaration that you made his days brighter, after it nearly drove you to tears. It became something soft, uttered in private and only shared between the two of you, and Steve blinked as he realized.

Then, without missing a beat, he shrugged. He offered a half smile as he rested his head on the back of the couch, tilted it just enough to meet your eyes. “If you can call me Stevie, I can call you sunshine. Equality, right?”

“Yeah, Stevie. Equality.”

The sleepy bubble of laughter that escaped you was enough to make Steve smile, lazy but pleased, as his eyes slipped shut. Instead of shrugging off his arm, retreating to your side of the couch and drifting off as you knew you should, you leaned in closer. You inhaled the scent of his cologne, his shampoo, his detergent, allowed it to dull the ache in your chest - calm the sudden racing of your heart. And as his breathing evened out, chest rising and falling rhythmically, you allowed yourself the indulgence of pressing your head to his shoulder.

Before you knew it, you’d drifted into the most peaceful sleep you’d gotten in months.

When you woke the next morning, wrapped in Steve’s embrace with your face buried in the crook of his neck - warm and content, limbs stiff with sleep but relaxed; heart calmer than it had been in months - there was no confusion. You knew, instantly, where you were and whose arms surrounded you. Even as you blinked sleep from your eyes, there was no mistaking the scent of him. Your body felt lighter, as if it were floating, and you took a moment to take stock of the moment.

There was a crackling warmth building in your chest, the spark of something you knew was better left buried - feelings you’d swallowed long ago warming the hollow of your chest - and you did your best to think about anything other than the warmth of Steve’s palm pressed to your side, fingers ghosting the sliver of skin just above the band of your shorts.

Thoughts of work, of school, of music, of Eddie, of Robin, of to-do lists, of books left unfinished all distracted you briefly but the air around you shifted the moment you woke and you were powerless to stop it.

A cursory glance at Steve proved that you were not the only one who felt it. His eyes were already on you, gaze sleepy and warm. There seemed to be fewer lines on his face, a lighter purple beneath his eyes, and he was able to hold your gaze just a moment longer as he shot you a soft smile.

“G’morning, sunshine.” His voice, rough with sleep, hit you square in the chest. It was a sound you hadn’t heard in years, one that brought a thousand memories bubbling to the surface, and you tried not to let him see how if affected you. “Your couch used to be way more comfortable.”

He looked warm, hair mussed with sleep and eyes blinking slow against the sunlight filtering in through windows, and you were powerless to stop yourself from reaching out to brush a lock of hair from his eyes. “It’s still comfortable. You’re just getting old, Stevie.”

Steve’s mouth fell open, lips parted in faux outrage, as he scoffed. The hand on your hip moved, fingers pinched lightly at the skin - not enough to hurt, just enough to feel - and you laughed as he rolled his eyes. “I’m not getting old,” he huffed, indignant. He searched your face, eyes glittering with an amused mischief, before he shook his head. “I brought you pizza and your favorite movie, just so you could bully me. Unbelievable.”

“I’m just trying to keep you humble, Harrington.”

“Yeah? Oh, well, someone has to do it,” he agreed, nodding as he lifted a hand to rake through sleep mussed hair. “Might as well be you, huh?” Steve grinned and so did you. You’d never humbled him, never even dreamed of it - you were the one to build him up, to make him smile and remind him of his worth after his parents cut him down - and you wouldn’t begin now.

Still, you nodded, somber-faced and fighting a grin. “Might as well.��

There was something electric that thrummed just beneath the surface, a steady warmth that underlined the conversation, and suddenly, it felt as if you were fourteen again. You were reminded of the mornings you spent together, laughing at nothing before the reality of life set in. It made your chest ache, made your lungs burn, but you desperately wanted to bottle the moment, just in case you never lived it again.

Over the course of the teasing, Steve’s face had drawn closer - mouth close enough to feel the warmth of his breath fanning your skin as he laughed - and you blinked, surprised, when you realized how little distance remained. It took Steve a moment, his smile slowly fading into something a touch more serious, but when he seemed to realize, he looked almost reluctant to release his hold on you.

“Robin will help if I’m late again.” He laughed, though it rang a touch hollow, as he moved, placed a little bit of distance between the pair of you.

“Oh, yeah. Might not want to risk that. She can humble you in, like, a really accurate way.”

Steve grimaced, though laughter was quick to follow, as he stood from the couch. Subconsciously, your eyes fell to his stomach - traced the dark trail of hair that flashed as he lifted his arms above his head to stretch - and felt your face heat as he caught you. Instead of teasing, however, Steve’s own cheeks tinged pink, a soft dusting that warmed his face, as he reached for the plates still sitting on the coffee table.

“She almost made Keith cry once,” he revealed as you stood and followed him to the kitchen, carrying the empty soda cans. "Not on purpose, she just started talking and couldn’t stop. She apologized a thousand times but I still got dragged into a month of Saturday night shifts, just because I laughed.”

“She said something about our history teacher once, I can’t remember what, but I laughed and we both got detention. That’s actually how we became friends,” you revealed, smile soft when Steve turned to you. “It’s, like, one of those word vomit things. She says it before she can really think about it. It’s not mean, just really accurate.”

“Oh, yeah. For someone who claims she can’t read people, Robin’s usually pretty right about most things.”

The observation lingered, was met with your hum of acknowledgement, and the conversation tapered off. Steve spared the clock in the kitchen a glance, sighed as he realized the time, and offered you a hesitant smile. “Thanks,” he began, voice going quiet once more as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. “For, uh, not kicking me out, I guess. And not making me finish The Evil Dead.”

It was sweet, an endearing quip that made you grin, and you shook your head to keep from flustering as you folded your arms over your chest. “Anytime, Stevie. You know where I live if you ever want to do it again.”

Steve grinned, a little easier than before, as he walked by your side to the front door. “Careful what you wish for, sunshine. I might just take you up on that.” Then, for the first time in a long while, you saw Steve hesitate. He blinked, unsure, before he offered you a tight smile instead of the hug he seemed to be contemplating. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later, Harrington.”

And, just like that, the moment was over. Steve left with a glance thrown over his shoulder - a few glances spared out of his window, eyes stuck on you as you stood in the doorway and waited until he’d made it down your driveway - and you wandered back into the house with an overwhelming flurry of emotions filling the pit of your stomach.

You wondered if this would be a one time thing, a mistake on his part - an effort to clear a guilty conscious, a way to absolve himself of any lingering guilt he felt after uncovering old wounds the week prior - or if it would become a regular effort. You wondered if it would continue being this easy, allowing Steve back into your life when you’d run from him for so long. You wondered if he even wanted back into your life, if he felt the same conflicting emotions you felt as you cleared the reminders of his presence from your home.

However, your worries were soothed as you realized the moment you shared - one you worried would be a fluke, something to be forgotten and never considered again - became the spark that reignited your friendship with Steve.

It started gradually, with you and Steve spending one night a week together. Most weeks, your time together was limited to a few hours - usually on days Dustin and Eddie had Hellfire and Robin had band - and filled with food and laughter as you made use of the nearly untouched kitchen in his home. Others, you found yourselves wrapped up in one another, a tangled mess of limbs and blankets, after another accidental sleepover that got less awkward each time it happened.

Slowly but surely, once a week turned into twice a week. Then, it became three. Soon, and before you could really think too much about it, most of your days included at least a few moments of Steve Harrington’s time. Steve became a fixture in your nights with Robin - not always, you still reveled in your alone time, but more often than not - and, on a few separate occasions, joined you and Eddie for a night of music and horror movies that made his stomach turn.

It was strange, going from avoiding Steve at every turn to seeing him almost daily in what felt like the blink of an eye, but, in a way, it felt like coming home. Steve had, for so long, been such a large part of your life. Welcoming him back into the chaos of your life was easy, almost too easy, but he fit like a missing puzzle piece.

There were moments that you thought too much about it - where you wondered if you were clinging to a past that no longer existed, trying to delude yourself into thinking that nothing had changed. There were moments you poured your heart out to Eddie, wondering if you were doing the wrong thing in allowing Steve back into your life without so much as blinking. There were moments that you struggled, questioning every decision you’d made in relation to Steve Harrington. But, at the end of the day, each moment you spent with him felt right.

Still, there was a weight to your friendship that hadn’t existed as children. As his presence in your life grew greater, more obvious, there was a realization that now - as adults, or as close as you could be - every action, every word, carried a consequence it hadn’t years ago. Each move you made meant something, each step you took mattered, and you were careful to keep yourself in line as you navigated the return of Steve Harrington.

Regardless, things were going well. You were happy, Steve seemed to be happy, and your friendship seemed to pick up exactly where it left off - bitterness soothed by Steve’s continued effort to make you smile, his selflessness when it came to anticipating your desires.

The only question that lingered, that kept you awake at night, was how long you could continue holding yourself together. It was easy to pretend that you weren’t madly in love with Steve in his presence - you’d done it before, spent years madly in love with someone who you were supposed to hate - but everyone else could see right through you as your feelings eclipsed their pre-high school predecessor.

Robin saw it first, cheered so loud her mother had to tell you both to keep it down, and grinned every time Steve so much as nudged your shoulder. Eddie was next, groaned and grimaced and wrinkled his nose, but ultimately proved to be the more helpful of the two as he tried to listen and understand the mess of feelings tumbling around your brain. He picked apart the pieces of your frazzled thoughts, made sense of the feelings you were too afraid to untangle with anyone else, and ultimately kept you tied together as the months ticked by.

But as you stepped into Family Video, greeted by Steve with a hug and a bright smile, you wondered just how long the brittle thread wrapped around your fragile feelings would hold.

As Steve stepped away, drew to his full height and reached for the stack of tapes he’d dropped onto the counter to embrace you, he ignored the look Robin shot you both. He pointedly brushed past her without so much as a glance in her direction, ignored your snicker when she stuck her tongue out at him, and offered you a small smile as he placed a return on the shelf.

“You up for a movie tonight? I’ve heard Top Gun’s good.”

Behind him, Robin’s eyebrows winged up in surprise and it took every ounce of self control for yours not to do the same. Though your friendship had grown, had returned to something resembling your past relationship, there was little time spent together outside the comfort of a private space. Most of your time spent together was at his place, hidden away from your family and abandoned by his, or at the home of a friend - Robin or Eddie, the Wheeler residence, once. Family Video was the only public space you occupied together and that was only deemed safe as it was, almost always, empty.

The decision to remain hidden was not a conscious one - there was never a conversation in which you decided to hide, to avoid going to the movies or to dinner - but you’d been under the assumption that it was something unspoken, understood.

Now, as Steve raised an eyebrow at you, you wondered if the time just hadn’t been right.

“Tom Cruise is in it. Of course it’s going to be good.” Steve made a face, wrinkled his nose in faux disgust and rolled his eyes, but laughed as you reached out to nudge his shoulder. The reply was a touch brittle, a little stilted, but he seemed none the wiser as he waited patiently for your answer. “Can we do tomorrow night? Corroded Coffin is playing at The Hideout tonight. I promised Eddie I’d come ‘cause they’re playing a new song. You can come with, if you want. Though, I’m not sure how much fun you’ll have. They play metal covers and drink shitty beer with grumpy old dudes.”

Steve grimaced again, this one genuine, and shook his head. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass, but thanks.” He spared you a sideways glance, eyes roving the black jeans and Hellfire shirt you wore, before returning his attention to the shelf in front of him. “I get off at five tomorrow. Maybe we can make it to the six o’clock showing?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When Robin retreated, muttering something about needing to clean shelves or stack boxes, Steve spared you a glance from the corner of his eye. His fingers tapped against the shelf - something of a nervous tic - as he schooled his features into a look of nonchalance that you saw through immediately.

There was something bothering him, a flicker of something sad - something hurt - but he hid it well as he shelved another return. “You should go for it.” When you raised a brow, unsure of what he meant, he continued, “Munson. You should go for it. You guys would be a good couple.” The declaration was quiet, as if he didn’t want to breathe it aloud, and your eyes widened.

“Eddie?” You nearly choked on your laughter as you shook your head, unable to help yourself, even as the tips of Steve’s ears tinted pink.

Plenty of rumors followed you in high school but that - the whisper that you were dating Eddie, that you were at least sleeping together - was the most pervasive. There’d never been anything more than friendship between you and you shook your head as you spared Steve an incredulous glance. “He’s not really my type.”

At this, Steve seemed to perk up, if only momentarily. A look of intrigue flashed so quick that you were almost certain you’d imagined it as he suddenly stared at the shelf as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Steve hadn’t displayed any interested in your love life, left that as the one topic untouched between the two of you, and you wondered where the change of heart had come from as you studied him.

“You trying to play matchmaker, Stevie? I can give you a list of what I like, might make it easier for you.”

The list would be short - compiled of one name, underlined for emphasis - and you had no plans to share it with him. Steve was the one who got away, always would be, and you had no interest in allowing him into your love life. And, as you anticipated, he scoffed.

Steve’s huff was wholly unconvincing, lacked the emphasis needed to convince you his advice stemmed from a totally selfless place, and you frowned as he shook his head. “I just want you to be happy,” he declared, voice going soft as he traced the spine of a tape. “You’re spending all your time with me, can’t be good for you,” he teased, though it sounded half-hearted, a self-deprecating joke that made you sigh.

You remained uncertain of where the sudden interest was coming from, what had brought about this sudden doubt, but before you could dig deeper, you saw Eddie’s van pull into the parking lot.

For the best, you decided to leave well enough alone and ask after the movie, in the safety of Steve’s car. With a roll of your eyes, you squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “You make me happy, Stevie. Spending time with you is good for me and I’m looking forward to doing it again tomorrow night. You picking me up?” Steve nodded, half-dazed by your response, and you laughed as you shook your head. “Perfect. See you tomorrow night, Harrington.”

As you rushed out of the store, eager to supply Eddie with the latest - and to hear his latest opinion; so far, he had alternated on his stance, oscillating wildly between encouragement and near begging for you to forget Steve Harrington - you swore you could hear Robin loudly ask, “So, are we going to talk about the ginormous elephant in the room or are we just going to pretend that you’re not totally in love with her?”

Followed instantly by a deadpan, “Shut up, Robin.”

Eddie seemed less enthusiastic - certain you were imagining the entire exchange, maybe hearing what you wanted instead of what was actually said - but nodded anyway, encouraging, this time. And as he drove to pick up the rest of Corroded Coffin, Black Sabbath blaring and cigarette smoke filling the interior of his van, you wondered.

Steve had sworn Robin was a good judge of character, could read people significantly better than she let on. Was this one of those cases - had she figured out something you hadn’t - or was this a case of her not being able to differentiate between platonic and romantic love? It had happened, she’d also believed you and Eddie to be hiding a romantic relationship but the interaction played on a loop as you sat amongst the crowd of drunks filling The Hideout.

He seemed anxious, worried, a little clipped when asking about Eddie - jealous, almost, if you were to believe the spark of hope ignited in your chest - but there was always the chance that it had nothing to do with romantic love. Steve, like you, now had few friends. You were the only one his age, the only one who’d known him longer than a handful of years, and he likely wanted to keep you in his life. Eddie was destined to leave Hawkins the moment he could; maybe Steve was worried you’d follow.

The time that you spent together was fleeting; there was a chance Steve worried a romantic relationship would impede your few moments of bliss. He might’ve been worried that you falling in love would destroy your desire to remain in his life, no longer interested in a friend like him when someone like Eddie existed.

Whatever the case, the interaction with Steve played on a loop until his car pulled into your driveway the next afternoon. He’d clearly been home, showered - removed the stale scent of Family Video, tapes and old popcorn - and smiled as you bounded across the driveway to his car before he could completely stop.

As you climbed into the passenger seat of his car, the sound of Metallica’s The Thing That Should Not Be made you pause. Steve noticed, flushed a brilliant pink, but said nothing as he pulled out of your driveway and began the journey to the theater.

When he remained quiet, you asked, “Stevie, are you listening to Metallica?”

Steve had been educated - played tape after tape by you and Eddie, schooled in the art of heavy metal as you smoked in the metalhead’s bedroom - but he hadn’t shown much of an interest in any of the bands you loved. He didn’t openly scoff, not anymore, but metal wasn’t exactly the genre of music Steve Harrington listened to on repeat.

To say that it was a surprise would be an understatement.

Still, he shrugged. “Eddie let me borrow the tape,” he admitted, unable to look at you. “You kept going on about it, figured I should give it a listen.” He made no effort to stop you from turning up the volume and, when you glanced at him expectantly, he rolled his eyes. “It’s not Hall and Oates, but it’ll do.”

You laughed, a bright sound that filled the car, and Steve grinned - glad to have made you smile. He made a few observations about the tape - mostly that he couldn’t really hear a difference in the songs, something that you knew he’d struggled with in your metal education sessions - and you assured him that it was alright if he truly didn’t like it. Regardless, he kept the tape playing in the background and you swore he smiled each time you bobbed your head and hummed along to the songs you were already so familiar with.

Despite how normal the night seemed - Steve rambling about work, mutter about Robin and the kids - there was something slightly off. It could’ve been your imagination, the effort you put into overthinking Steve’s every motivation for waltzing back into your life, but everything felt muted.

Steve’s energy as he bought popcorn and tickets - waved you off, asserted that you could get him back next time, though you both knew he wouldn’t allow it - was low and he remained uncharacteristically quiet as he guided you through the lobby to the theater. It was almost as if he were nervous, watching his hands as he pressed one to the small of your back, weighing his words as he leaned over to whisper thoughts about the trailers.

There were moments of pure Steve, bright energy where he pondered what his call sign would be - easily declared yours to be sunshine, no need changing it now - and shoveled popcorn into his mouth. But you could tell his attention wasn’t entirely on the film.

For you, it was difficult to focus on anything other than his presence - the scent of his hair products, the warmth of his body pressed to yours, the spice of his cologne, the soft brush of his short against your skin - and the questions that had echoed since leaving Family Video the day before.

The movie passed in a blur - a mess of pilot jargon you didn’t understand, a handful of scenes that made you roll your eyes - but Steve seemed to enjoy himself. He laughed, grinned a little in places, and frowned at all the right scenes. To you, however, the only thing worth note was the way he remained glued to your side, arm slung over your shoulders and knee pressed to yours.

And as you left the theater, though his chatter was a little more scattered than normal - less focused, a little more erratic, a little louder - Steve dominated the conversation and seemed not to notice your silence. He debated his call sign, shot out ideas before immediately scrapping them, and tapped the wheel as he drove along quiet roads back to your home.

Instead of joining, you sat quietly and wondered how badly you would destroy the fragile new bond of your relationship if you simply asked Steve what the hell you were doing together.

When Steve pulled into the driveway of your home, placed the car in park and turned down the radio, he shifted to face you. Warm brown eyes searched your face, desperate for an answer to a question he had yet to ask and you knew that now was the time you’d been waiting for. “You’ve been quiet,” he pointed out, eyebrows pinched. “What’s on your mind?”

The thought of playing coy, of beating around the bush and pretending that you had no idea what he was referring to, was tempting. Asking the question that had been plaguing you for weeks - months, even - had the potential to ruin whatever delicate thing you’d been building.

At the same time, there was no point in maintaining a relationship that made you afraid to speak. Steve was a friend - a good one, at that, having proven himself in the short time you’d been reacquainted - and he deserved an honest answer.

“I guess I’ve just been wondering why.” Steve tilted his head, searching for the missing context, and you sighed as you twisted one of the silver rings adorning your fingers. “I’m glad that we’re… us again. I’m glad that we’re trying to go back to what we had. I just… It’s been so long. I can’t help but wonder, why now.”

Steve sighed, long suffering and far too serious for someone who had less than an hour earlier wondered what his call sign might be, as he raked a hand through his hair. “I tried,” Steve admitted, voice quiet as he turned to face you. “Not hard enough, but I tried. After… After I got my ass kicked, things kind of fell into perspective. I realized what mattered, what didn’t. You always mattered to me, sunshine. Even when I had my head up my ass. I was… disappointed in myself, I think. For treating you the way I did. And I guess I was selfish, hoping enough time had passed that it would be easier for you to forgive me now. I never forgot about you, about us.”

The explanation was more than you’d imagined it would be, something heavier than you expected, and you swallowed the emotion bubbling in the back of your throat as Steve offered you a half smile.

“Even when I didn’t want to understand, I did. I knew what you were doing, why you were doing it. If I hadn’t been so pissed at my parents, I probably would’ve been right there with you,” you admitted, voice melding with the quiet sound of Metallica. “I never forgot about you, either. And I think I would’ve accepted the apology a long time ago.” You paused for a moment, desperate to give yourself a little room to breathe, before you added, “I’m kind of glad you waited, though. Don’t think Hellfire would’ve let me back in if I’d been hanging out with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

It was a necessary moment of levity, a laugh you both needed, and Steve shook his head fondly as he met your eyes. “I think I’ve got Eddie’s approval now,” he teased, smiling softly as he reached for your hand. His fingers brushed the metal of one of your rings - one that had replaced his tiny plastic ring years ago - as he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “He can see right through people. Realized how I felt before I did, I think.”

Your breath caught in your throat, slightly confused and anxious as to how Steve would answer your question. Your hand shook in his grasp, fingers trembling even as he brushed soothing circles over your heated skin, and he smiled encouragingly as he waited for your response. “And how do you feel?”

Steve’s smile faltered slightly, just enough to make you wrap your fingers around his in an encouraging squeeze, as he laughed. “I feel like an idiot. I’ve wasted so much time, searching for someone to love me for me, when you’ve been there all along. I… I had a crush on you, when we were kids,” he admitted, eyes meeting yours - warm brown glittering in the dim light from your porch. “I used to tell my mom that I was going to marry you someday. You were my first love and I don’t think my feelings have changed.” Time seemed to crawl to a stop, the universe seemed to cease existing, as Steve lifted a hand to your cheek. Soft fingers brushed your skin as he whispered, “I think I’m still in love with you.”

The hammering of your heart echoed loudly in your ears, beat wildly against your ribcage and threatened to shatter the little pieces holding you in place. It was difficult to focus on Steve’s confession, difficult to make sense of it, and you wondered if this was all some sort of dream.

As his fingers tangled with yours, warm hand encompassing your trembling fingers, you knew that it was real. He was patient, waited with a ghost of a smile for you to speak, and you foundered to find something adequate to say.

“Steve.”

This time, as the words stuck in your throat - so close to breaking free, so easy to say, admit just as he’d admitted his own love - Steve nodded, smile bright. “I know,” he assured you, voice soft as his hand lifted to your cheek. “I know, sunshine.”

Steve leaned forward, crossed the gap between your seats, and waited patiently for you to make the final decision. It was up to you - this whole process had been up to you, on your terms, and you realized that Steve was handing over control without a moment of hesitation. Whatever happened, he wanted it to be on your terms, and you were grateful for that as you closed the distance and pressed your mouth to his.

Steve’s fingers pressed into the apple of your cheek, splayed across your jawline and held you tight - as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go. When you broke apart to breathe, he pressed his forehead to yours and grinned.

“I love you, sunshine. I know it hasn’t always seemed that way but I promise, you’ll never have to question it again.”

The declaration was strong, certain, and you believed wholeheartedly that Steve was telling the truth. Regardless of how things had changed, of how your lives had drifted only to return to each others’ orbit, Steve’s promise meant something.

This time, when Steve swore that he wouldn’t let go - that you would never question his love again - you believed him.

____________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry. This got so out of hand. I just had a lot of Steve thoughts. Back to your regularly scheduled Eddie now, though.

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cryptid-intraining · 2 years

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Even More Jason Todd Headcanons

(Wholesome And Kinda Less Sad Version Because Everyone Was Crying In The Reblogs Of The Last One)

Jason keeps stealing the Batmobile's tires. He calls it 'keeping Bruce on his toes, one day someone else is going to steal his tires and when that day comes he'll be able to replace them so fast' and Bruce calls it 'genuinely baffling, I've upgraded the security measures on the outer perimeter of the Batmobile four times already, there are a whole host of sensors and mechanisms that are designed to prevent this very thing from happening, how does he keep doing it, Alfred?!'

Jason never says that he thinks of Damian as his brother, at least not in such clear words, but he does call him habibi when they talk in Arabic, a habit that slips over to English conversations sometimes, let's him sleep in his bed when he has nightmares, pretends not to notice when Damian is trying to secretly sketch him (but he sits very still for him because he notices the way his tight expression always falls away when he focuses on drawing), and whenever Damian withdraws from them and becomes distant Jason will make murtabak or manakish and quietly leave it in his room. Damian never says anything about it and Jason would never admit to it. But they don't have to. It's just how they are.

When Duke noticed how uncomfortable Jason was around the random crowbars and metal tools kicking around in the garage of the Cave he locked them all up out of sight. He didn't know the specifics but Jason's discomfort was enough of a reason for him.

He does illegal street racing in his free time with his motorcycle. Due to this he is an incredibly good driver in tactical situations.

The white streak isn't a solid chunk of white but rather his hair just started greying prematurely (which is a thing that can happen when you undergo immense trauma or stress so it's a bit more realistic).

Part of Jason and Dick's reconciliation after he came back as Red Hood was really just about getting to know each other. They only knew each other for a few years (?) when Jason was Robin and there was too much baggage between them for either to really feel like they could be brothers or even friends (Dick feeling bitter he was replaced and Jason feeling as if he was constantly being compared to, and falling short of, Dick's legacy). But even still when he came back as an adult it took Dick awhile to realise that he actually doesn't know much about Jay, especially after so many years, so he made an effort to reach out beyond their vigilante work, coming around to Jason's apartment with cheap pizza and pepsi (no beer because Dick knows about his issues with alcoholism) and they'd just hang. At first it was awkward but they filled the often uncomfortable silence with random movies from the years Jason was dead or gone that he wanted to catch up on. It became a routine for them and slowly over the months they started to open up and actually talk.

When things were still rough between Jason and Tim, Jay would make sure to stay out of Tim's sight and hearing whenever he swung by the Manor. He figured it was the least he could do, after what he did.

Tim absolutely notices this but doesn't say anything. He's grateful for the space and knows that Jason will listen to him when he's ready to talk about their relationship and what Jason did.

Jason knows that Duke, being the newest member of the family, likely feels left out or distant from them, something he knows they've all felt when they first joined, so he always makes sure to invite him out on patrol or just to stop by the Manor to chat with him when he has the time. They both have a shared interest in cars and racing and often end up talking for a hour or two about the F1 season.

Jason absolutely has taken Damian to a shooting range. Against Bruce's wishes of course but no one could say no to Jason and Damian when they get an idea in their heads. Plus Alfred said they could.

Alfred joins them at the range the next time because Jason kept nagging him to come with and he shares stories about his days in the service. Jay and Dams are both really interested in that period of history and the old espionage tactics people used.

#batfam #jason todd #red hood #batfamily #batman #dc comics #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #duke thomas #batfam headcanons #batfam shenanigans #alfred pennyworth #jason todd headcanons #red hood headcanons

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afewproblems · 1 year

Text

Steve always falls first, falls fastest.

It happened three years ago with Nancy, it happened with Robin back before the bathroom confession cemented their platonic soulmate status. It happened with Lauren MacNeal in Steve's freshman year, and Cindy Carlile back when he was eight years old.

He knows himself and knows the beginning stages. It's always quick and never painless, and seems to hurt more with every passing year. A dull ache in his chest that throbs and whispers darkly, 'remember Harrington, you'll always be bullshit'.

And when he finds himself falling for one Eddie Munson, he knows exactly when it starts.

Movie nights became a regular thing shortly after Eddie was discharged from the hospital. Robin, Steve, and Eddie all pile into the Harrington living room or the Munson trailer every other week, it's too hard to be apart.

Really, it becomes a way to keep a late night conversation going with Eddie while the credits roll, Robin dozes on the beanbag in the corner and Steve can't help but stare.

Eddie is so animated when he talks about something he loves, his brown eyes light up with his thousand watt smile and the dimples come out in full force, Steve almost has to squint with the amount of natural sunshine this man emanates when he talks about his passions.

He says as much to Robin during their next shift and she can't help but roll her eyes and gag, "Steven Remington Harrington-"

"Not my name," Steve cuts in with a laugh as he stuffs their second copy of the Shining into the machine to rewind.

"Don't interrupt dingus," Robin continues imperiously, "I get it, you have heart-eyes for the guy, but you gotta stop gushing about him to me and tell him".

Steve rolls his eyes and ignores the way his stomach swoops at the thought of telling Eddie how he feels, and the realization that it's happening again.

"I-I mean, it's not like I'm in love with the guy Robin, he stutters out eventually, "it'll go away, or he'll find someone else to talk to, they always do eventually".

He focuses on picking up the stack of freshly rewound tapes and walking them into the shelves, avoiding Robin's silent sad look that bores into the back of his head as he hides in the stacks.

Weeks turn into months and Steve absorbs nearly everything he can about Eddie.

He wears a size 10 shoe, but the 'shit-kicking' steel toes always look a smidge bigger - the inch or two it adds to Eddies height doesn't hurt either as Steve finds he has to tilt his head up to meet Eddie's gaze when he's decked out in his metal gear for a show...

He got his first guitar when he went to live with Wayne, it was a simple acoustic that he learned his chords on and practiced CCR on to his uncles delight.

He hates orange juice and loves coffee.

He loves cats and is scared to death of birds.

Every detail draws Steve in, but that small voice in the back of his mind reminds him again and again, 'they always leave Steve, don't get too comfortable'.

But how could he not?

Eddie is comfortable, he's nice and funny, and seems to enjoy hanging out with Steve almost as much as Steve enjoys being with Eddie. There is a softness to him when they're alone that makes Steve feel safe.

So what if he doesn't feel the same, Steve isn't about to give this up.

Not yet.

Steve takes to dropping by the Corroded Coffin band practice every weekend, a six pack in one hand and a small wary smile on his face - he's still not entirely accepted by Gareth and Jeff but the beer helps and Eddie vouches for him every time.

The atmosphere is still somewhat stilted, but it isnt as icy as it had been. Now Gareth even sits with him after practice while Eddie and Jeff go over their solos just outside the door as they share a joint, blowing smoke rings into the evening air.

"You know," Gareth says one night to Steve as he plops down beside him onto the sunken couch in the garage, "If someone had told me in high school I'd be sitting here with King-Steve and sharing a beer after practice, I'd laugh in their face".

Steve fights down a wince at the mention of the old nickname, and nods once. Who was he kidding, 'King-Steve' was not something he'd ever be able to outrun.

"So," Gareth continues, tapping his hands against the neck of the bottle, "how's the crush going?"

Steve chokes on his beer and swings his hand up to pound his fist into his chest to loosen up the liquid, Gareth claps him on the back with an alarmed expression on his face.

"Jesus Harrington, y'alright?" Gareth says as Steve tries to catch his breath.

Steve nods and breathes deeply through his nose, his eyes flick to the open garage door to see if Eddie or Jeff are on their way back inside, "I-I don't think I heard you right," he manages with a rasp.

Gareth snorts and shakes his head, leaning back against the couch. He's quiet for a moment, eyes trained on Steve's face.

Steve, for his part, stares resolutely at the floor hoping his gaze is strong enough to burn a hole into the concrete he can jump into.

"Look," Gareth says after a beat, "I guess its not really any of my business Harrington," his eyes travel over to the open door before flicking back to Steve, "and I don't mean to sound like a prick when I say this, but you're not really his type man".

Something in Steve's throat pulls tight, bullshit echoes in the hollow cavity of his chest as he nods and swallows the last dreggs of his beer.

"Right," Steve mumbles, he puts his hands on his knees and stands up from the couch, "Right, yeah, I mean, makes sense...".

He crosses to the door and manages to toss the now empty can into an open bin they'd officially commandeered for empties.

"Dude," Gareth says softly standing as well, he makes no move to walk towards Steve though.

Steve waves a hand and drops the other to his back pocket to hide the sudden trembling. Gareth is right, it doesn't make sense. Why would someone like Eddie ever want to be with someone like Steve? How would that even work?

Always fast but never painless, right on time.

"You guys were uh, great as usual, I'll see you around man," Steve says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, he hasn't had to pull out the 'King Steve' smile in a few years but it still fits, still manages to hide a few things.

He turns away from Gareth and walks out through the open garage door.

The sun is nearly below the horizon and the stars have begun to migrate, the inky blue of night begins to steep into the last vestiges of light, if he's careful he can slip past Eddie and Jeff without either of them noticing.

He makes it to the beemer before Eddie turns towards him.

Eddie's brown eyes widen before narrowing in a questioning stare, he opens his mouth but Steve opens the car door and quickly slides into the driver's seat.

He stares straight ahead as he backs out of the driveway and pulls out onto the road.

Steve can feel those brown eyes follow him as he makes the long drive back to his empty house.

Part Two Now Up!

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #fanfic #hurt steve harrington #stranger things season four #is it bad that i love to hurt my favourite characters?#hurt and not a whole helluva lot of comfort #oblivious eddie munson #made myself sad with this one

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talesofesther · 2 years

Text

Blue hoodie

Robin Buckley x Reader

Summary: Robin fell for a girl with a blue hoodie.

Requested by anons: robin and reader being a secret couple and one day robin steals one of reader's hoodies and steves like wait a minute because he saw reader wearing it only a few days before and robin x reader where they are supposed to be studying in the library after school but instead they are making out in the girls bathrooms

A/N: Yeah, I got a bit carried away; can't help myself, Robin is my girl <3.

Masterlist

The cold wind was announcing the inevitable arrival of the winter; leaves were rustling with the breeze in the same direction as the many clouds in the sky.

Robin sat by a lonely swing, dirty sneakers kicking the brown, dead leaves on the ground. The ring on her finger clicked against the chain holding the wooden swing. She was waiting for Steve, who was supposed to meet her ten minutes ago, she wasn't surprised by his delay.

Strands of hair flew in front of her eyes, she hugged her coat closer to herself. Two kids passed by on the street, both on bikes and short-sleeved shirts; she wondered if they felt the cold.

After two more minutes of swinging back and forth, Steve's red car appeared in her line of sight. Robin didn't bother getting up, her bright eyes followed Steve as he opened his door. The day was grey and cold, yet Steve was smiling and talking.

Robin saw the reason why shortly after. The passenger door of his car opened and a girl stepped out.

An annoyed groan escaped Robin, it was supposed to be just them, she'd be giving Steve a piece of her mind later for bringing along whatever girl he was trying to date.

You walked away from the car, falling into step with Steve while stuffing your hands into your hoodie's pockets to try and chase away the cold wind piercing at your skin.

"Hey Robin, sorry we're a bit late, I had to stop by to pick someone up." Steve leaned against one of the wood beams holding Robin's swing, looking at you with a grin.

"You invited me, dude." You playfully frowned at him, hugging yourself and shifting on your stance; your eyes darting momentarily to the pretty girl on the swing.

Steve chuckled, "I hope you don't mind I invited Y/N, you remember I told you about her right? My friend from middle school?"

Robin's gaze focused on you, pursing her lips and instantly loving how the shade of blue of your hoodie complimented your skin. "Yeah, I do remember."

You smiled, an adorable tilt of lips as you walked forward and offered your hand for Robin to shake. Which she did, simultaneously cursing her suddenly sweaty palms.

By the end of that day, after you made Robin laugh like never before, held her hand on the roller coaster of the local fun fair, and kissed her cheek goodbye before climbing onto the car; Robin knew she was a goner.

For the ten months after you two met, you became Robin's safe place.

Funnily enough, you were wearing the same blue hoodie when Robin had the courage to finally kiss you.

It was sleepover night, Robin invited you over with a promise of cool movies, snacks, and games. You sat on her bed, Robin's head resting on your lap while you discussed which band was better.

"I still stand by my choice Buckley, Beatles all the way." You leaned back on your hand, fingers threading through Robin's hair. You had a lazy smile, memorizing how pretty her eyes were, looking up at you under the soft yellow light of her room.

"They are good, Blondie is better though." Robin tugged on the strings of your hoodie, eyes half closed with your soothing touch.

"Only in your world." You whispered, not caring much for the argument anymore.

Robin opened her eyes fully, with a witty reply at the ready that got stuck in her tongue when her gaze found yours already fixed on her. She exhaled sharply, her heart pumping blood much faster than it should; and she thought about how much she wanted to kiss you right now.

"What's stopping you?" asked your quiet voice; and Robin gulped down a massive lump in her throat because the words somehow slipped from her mind and were thrown in the open for you. She was frozen for a moment, her chest hurting from the pressure of her beating heart and body cold with goosebumps.

Until your words downed on her, and Robin was sitting up slowly. Your places on the bed left little to no space between you, Robin could feel your unsteady breathing on her lips and she took a leap of faith when she grasped the collar of your hoodie, pulling your lips towards hers with a passion that could easily pass as true love.

And for the next two months after your first kiss, Robin considered herself the luckiest person in the world for being able to call you hers.

Robin twirled the dark blue string of the hoodie between her fingers, bright and excited eyes fixed on the clock right above the board. She was counting the seconds for the class to just be over already.

There was a tap on her shoulder, breaking her intense stare. Robin looked up, doe eyes meeting rather annoyed ones from her teacher.

"I'm seeing that empty textbook, Ms. Buckley." The older woman raised a neat eyebrow, making Robin duck her head and hurriedly pick up her discarded pen.

She leaned her head on her palm, writing down the equations she was sure she wouldn't be able to finish before class ended. The heels of the teacher clicked against the floor, birds sang outside taunting Robin of the freedom she currently lacked and Christina whispered something to Lindsay two tables in front of Robin's, both girls giggling; yet the only sound Robin wanted to hear was the school's bell.

It's a little stupid, she knows it, waiting so eagerly just to see you as if she hadn't walked through the school's doors this morning with you by her side. But Robin never was the lucky one, she never had anyone before you and her little heart felt like jumping out of her chest every time she smelled the faint scent of your perfume on the hoodie.

It was so unmistakably yours that she could fool her mind into believing it was you hugging her. With light blue color, darker on the sleeves, and a dark silhouette of a cat on the front; you had given it to her this morning. Robin felt butterflies on her stomach upon thinking about the recent memory;

Your hands were warm, cupping Robin's cheeks and making the girl melt against you. "I can't believe you didn't bring an extra coat, it's almost winter Robin, come on." Your tone was half scolding but your smile was a lovesick one.

Robin took a step closer, her eyes darting down to your lips and if it wasn't for the school's student-filled parking lot she'd be kissing you now.

"I was in a rush, Steve was already waiting at my driveway and I didn't even have my pants on."

You chuckled, fingers brushing through Robin's fringe. You shrugged off your hoodie, confident that the wool sweater underneath would keep you warm. "Put this on."

"But, what about you?" Robin pouted, even if the warmth radiating from the soft fabric was tempting.

"I'll be fine, I'm not the one wearing only a thin long sleeve."

Once Robin had your hoodie snuggly around her, the comfort was instant. She was enveloped by the scent of you, wanting nothing more than to have you actually wrapping her up in your arms.

You tugged at the strings and pulled the hood over her head, your heart swelling with how adorable Robin looked. "Better?"

"Much." Robin breathed out, a ringed finger hooking around yours.

"Alright," bringing one hand up, you traced her bottom lip, "let's go then, lovergirl."

The bell finally rang, Robin all but threw her books inside her backpack and rushed out the door. You both agreed to meet up in the library for studying, but Robin suddenly had other plans.

She was running up to your classroom, dodging other students in the school's hallways before her eyes finally landed on your back. She grinned, and without so much of a warning grasped your wrist on one of her hands.

You turned around startled, feeling your body being yanked to the opposite direction you were walking to. "Robin! What-" you recognized the dirt blonde mop of hair that belonged to your girlfriend, but didn't have much time to question her.

The bathroom door opened forcefully, Robin dragging you inside with an eagerness that made laughter escape from you. It was empty, but just to be safe, you were gently pushed inside one of the stalls.

Robin had her back to you as she locked the door, and she had yet to say a word about what this was all about.

"Are you gonna fill me in here?" You raised an eyebrow even if she couldn't see it, letting go of your backpack and placing it on top of the closed toilet lid.

Robin's chest moved quickly with her breathing because of her running from before. She turned to face you, with parted lips and cheeks tainted pink, from the exertion or something else, you couldn't tell. All you knew is that she was absolutely breathtaking, and to prove your point, your lungs forgot how to function.

She dropped her backpack to the floor with no care, walking up to you with her hands already reaching out for you and a look in her eyes that made your knees weak.

Her movements were quick and desperate, as if she was drowning and you were her safe line, her breath of fresh air. Robin cupped your cheeks with both hands, her chest being flushed to yours and inevitably backing you up against the wall.

You only had time to clutch at the fabric of your hoodie around her waist before her lips were hungrily kissing yours. Robin pressed herself to you, no amount of closeness seeming to be enough for her. The kiss was passionate, yet somehow she still managed to be as gentle as ever; her tongue running along your bottom lip before you granted her entrance. One of your hands came up, fingers burying themselves into Robin's hair and you felt more than heard a low moan escaping her.

By the time you were forced to part, both of you were panting heavily. You refused to have more distance between you than necessary, noses bumping together and hands holding on to each other.

Robin's lips were swollen, her gaze was hazy and you had never seen a more beautiful sight.

"I've been wanting to do that since this morning." Robin's voice was an octave lower, the husky tone sending a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me about it." You grinned widely, sneaking a hand under the hoodie just so you could feel the skin of her lower back, just because you could. You felt goosebumps under your touch, Robin closed her eyes and you pulled her in again.

____

The door of Family Video opened with a ding, Robin walked in to start her shift for the day. Steve was already behind the counter, snacking on one of the sweets that stood on display beside him.

"Hey hair," Robin greeted her friend, turning the corner near the red neon sign on the wall to stand beside Steve. She opened her backpack, fishing for her work vest.

Steve chuckled, twirling a returned tape in his hands, "is there uh- is there something you wanna tell me?"

His words made Robin look at him with a deep frown, wondering what on earth he was referring to.

The smirk on Steve's face was knowingly teasing. "Cool hoodie, although I'm pretty sure I know someone who has the exact same one."

Robin crossed her arms over her chest, over your hoodie that she refused to take off; heat crept up her neck and she cursed the feeling. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Steve mumbled, a huge smile still present as he turned his back to Robin, focusing on stacking up the tapes on the counter.

Running a hand over the soft fabric of the sleeve, Robin smiled to herself, cheeks and heart warmer than ever.

She walked up beside Steve, not meeting his eyes and shifting on her feet. Her tone was adorably proud as she said; "she's stopping by later today."

’*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*’

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Robin’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @wandaownsme @rob1nbuckl3ys @myownpainintheass @spongebob-in-the-upsidedown @immadowhateva @amelies-a-simp

Let me know if you wanna be added to her taglist.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley #strangerthingsedit #stranger things #robin buckley x you #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #robin buckley fanfic #robinbuckleyedit #maya hawke #my story #stranger things x reader #st

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irondiotallica · 19 days

Text

Movie Night

I have a little blurb for you. Hope you enjoy it. I really enjoyed figuring it out as I listened to some Djo (great music, Joe Keery is really just too talented for this world). Anyway, enjoy!!! -Silas

[Steddie]

Steve didn’t know how he had gotten himself into this situation. The night had started normally. Eddie and Robin were staying over to watch some movies and hang out.

“Dingus, I think Eddie is gonna burn your kitchen down.”

Steve turned to Robin with an unamused stare.

“Rob, I’m sure he can figure out how to use the microwave to make some popcorn. He’s not helpless.”

“Steve-o! How do I work this thing?”

“You were saying, Steve,” Robin questioned with a raised brow and a smirk pulling at her lips.

Steve fixed her with a glare before getting up and moving into the kitchen. He leaned in the doorway and watched with a bit of amusement building as he watched Eddie press random buttons on the microwave trying to figure out how it works.

“Need help?”

Steve let out a chuckle as Eddie jumped and whipped around with wide eyes. Eddie narrowed his eyes at the younger boy before nodding his head with a sigh.

“Yeah, I need help,” Eddie mumbled with a slight pout.

Steve glided over to the microwave and made sure everything was properly in place. Eddie had managed that, but the buttons were what had stumped him. Steve began to hit the correct series of buttons and unconsciously trapping Eddie against his body and the counter. Steve grinned as the microwave began to whir in a mechanical countenance before he finally became aware of the position he was in.

He glanced down at Eddie and took in the blush that coated Eddie’s face with a color almost comparable to the cherry red sweater Steve was currently wearing. Steve tilted his head to the side before a small grin made its way to his face. He let his wander to Eddie’s waist and grip it firmly. He felt his grin widen as Eddie’s hands rested in his hair and on his neck.

“Steve?”

“Eddie.”

“Want a kiss, gorgeous?”

Eddie grinned up at Steve with a sweet glint in his eyes.

“Do you even gotta ask, big boy?”

They both leaned in and felt their world shrink to just the two of them. Steve pushed into the kiss, finding the taste of stale cigarettes and runts (the candy) intoxicating. Eddie’s lips were plush and just slotted perfectly against his own. Steve nipped at Eddie’s bottom lip and slid his tongue in to clash against Eddie’s. Steve could kiss Eddie forever.

“Split.”

The two pulled apart with one more peck as they focused in on Robin standing there with an eyebrow raised and seasoning held in her fingers.

“I would actually like some popcorn to go with my movie, thank you very much.”

Steve grabbed the bowl from the microwave and followed Robin as she moved back to the living room. He turned back and grabbed Eddie’s hand, planting a kiss against the cold metal of one of the rings.

“Come on, Eds. We’ll finish this later.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up.

“You inviting me to your room, Stevie?”

Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he moved Eddie forward and planted a smack on his backside along with a kiss on the cheek. Steve sat down and smirked at the shock on Eddie’s nuclear-red face. Eddie moved to the couch after a minute or two sitting on the other side of Steve that Robin hadn’t claimed. He leaned over and nipped at Steve’s ear.

“You’re a dick, Harrington.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes before settling back into Steve’s side. Steve focused on the movie and held his two favorite people close with the promise of fun later.

He couldn’t think of anything better than this moment.

#blurb #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie x steve #fluff #im bored #robin buckley

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hairstevington · 7 months

Text

songs that voices never share

Deaf!Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Everything's felt a little off since the Fourth of July, and no one's talking about it. Of course, one part of Steve's summer is a bit hard to ignore - he's losing his hearing. As luck would have it, a friend of Dustin's ends up playing a key role in Steve's adjustment to his new normal.

WC: 4K

Warnings: Deaf!Steve, use of ASL, angst/references to events of season 1-3, this fic will disregard the events of season 4 because I said so, canon universe, hurt/comfort, angst, platonic Stobin forever, Steve and Will are buds, some sad stuff but overall it's a love story like come on it's me we're talking about

A/N: Hello! Everyone loved my drabble about Deaf Steve so I'm expanding it into a full fic. The plan is 7 chapters, and I'll probably post them all both here and on Ao3. Please note that ASL is written in all capitals when notated in English, and the grammar is a bit different.

-----------------------

Chapter 1 - I'll take a quiet life

Steve was kind of prone to getting beat up. God knows Dustin never let him forget it.

After the fight with Jonathan, he felt more or less the same. Then, Billy beat the shit out of him, and Steve started getting migraines and hearing a ringing in his ears every so often.

But after being tortured by the Russians for a couple hours? That’s when the real damage was done.

Everything felt a little off since the Fourth of July, but no one talked about it. Even though so much had changed, Steve and the rest of the group all tried to get back to any normalcy they could find. Steve and Robin got a job together at Family Video and ultimately ignored everything they'd experienced together. It just felt like it was too big to talk about, so they didn't. They pretended like it didn't happen honestly - which might have been more successful had it not been for one fairly major thing.

The ringing became almost constant. Steve’s hearing was piss poor some days and kind of okay other days, but eventually the bad days were more frequent than the good. Steve knew he got beat up a lot, and he figured there were probably some consequences, but he never had time to think about it. Then, when he had trouble hearing one day, he figured he was just swollen and needed time to heal. And then he blamed it on allergies. And then he felt stupid for not taking it seriously, so he ignored it. And then, when he finally went to the doctor, he realized the full extent of it all.

They called it a perfect storm of injuries. At least, that’s what he thought they said. Apparently he’d had too much trauma to the area and not enough medical attention after multiple concussions and ruptured eardrums. He also apparently broke some of the bones in his ears??? They told him a lot of things that he couldn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t stupid. He just couldn’t hear so well anymore.

Steve had never been the smartest person in the first place. He wasn’t great at school, especially with English or history, and he never cared that much about it either. He breezed his way through high school and focused on sports and popularity.

So, when Steve couldn’t keep up in conversations with his friends, they didn’t really think anything was out of the ordinary. Classic Steve, always a few sentences behind.

He got away with it for much longer than he had any right to. Robin was the first to notice.

They worked together at Family Video most days that summer, and it was a good job because anyone could do it, really. They were never really that busy, so a lot of the time was just Steve and Robin getting paid to hang out.

A lot of times, Robin rambled at him about movies or music or how hot Molly Ringwald was, and he could just nod and smile and occasionally say something like, “yeah, totally,” and she would be none the wiser. If they were looking at each other, he could kind of tell what she was saying based on her lips, but only because he knew her well enough to do so. He couldn’t really understand anyone else, except maybe Dustin sometimes. Then again, Dustin used a lot of tech speak that went over Steve’s head even before his hearing deteriorated.

Steve was putting tapes back in the proper places, oblivious to Robin calling for him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Shit! Hi!” he exclaimed, realizing he must have missed something again. “Sorry, I’m kind of out of it.”

Ah, his go-to excuse. It worked every time.

“Bullshit, Harrington,” she replied. Before Steve could defend himself, she continued. “You can’t hear very well anymore, can you?”

Huh. Okay, it worked every time, until now. Steve nodded, realizing he had no reason to hide it from Robin anymore.

“How’d you know?” he wondered. Usually, Robin paced back and forth and avoided eye contact during her rambles, but this time she stayed put and faced him head on.

“Steve,” she began. “You’ve always been a little oblivious, but recently it’s like you’re never listening to me at all. Plus, I’ve been throwing random things into conversation to see if you notice. Hey, Steve, just figured out that hamsters aren’t real. Dingus, I just got a tattoo of your face on my face. You know, things like that. You’ve never said anything about it, so at first I thought you were just stressed or depressed or - wait, shit. You can’t hear. Maybe I should write this down.” She went to search for a pen and paper, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.

“I think I got the gist,” he responded. Thankfully this was one of his better days, otherwise he never would have been able to follow. “Wait, hamsters are real though, right?” Robin’s face fell as she genuinely pondered whether Steve was being serious. “I’m kidding. Yes I know what you’re saying.”

“Okay, cool,” she replied, relieved. “Anyway, once I realized nothing was wrong with your psyche, I started doing other tests. But sometimes I’d stomp my feet and you’d react, so I worried I was making it all up. One time I snapped right by your ear, but then I accidentally flicked you on the temple.”

Steve remembered that. She said it was a bug.

He could hear some frequencies, and it also depended on the day and the season. It was best in quiet spaces where he only had to talk to one person. That’s how he got by so well at work, because it was a relatively quiet place.

Well, except for Robin and her constant rambling.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. Steve shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t wanna admit it, I guess, but I think it’s just gonna get worse.” The prospect of losing his hearing entirely and permanently was on the table, especially if he was to get punched again or something. Considering his group of friends and their history of getting into trouble, that didn’t seem unlikely. Robin put a caring hand on his shoulder and gave a comforting smile.

“Well, I talk too much for you to not understand me, so this means we’re both gonna have to learn sign language.”

“What?” Steve winced at the idea. “No way. I took three years of Spanish and I only know how to ask where the bathroom is.”

(He actually forgot how to say that, too.)

“Yeah, but maybe sign language will be different. I mean, it’s visual, right?” Robin put her elbows on the counter and continued. “Come on, you know I love languages, and I’m soooo booooored.” As she spoke, her body slowly sank onto the counter until she was face down.

Steve chuckled. He wasn’t surprised that she was the first to figure it all out, and her reaction was incredibly on brand.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Steve picked up the alphabet pretty quickly. He already knew most of it from Sunday School as a kid. Then, for about a week or so, Robin drilled him by practicing different signs during their shifts together. There were only a few weeks of summer vacation left before Robin went back to school for her senior year.

Steve was grateful he’d already graduated by the time his hearing got worse. He would never have had the courage to ask for accommodations. Although, Robin probably would have bugged him into asking for it anyway.

Whatever, He didn’t need to think about that.

MOVIE, Robin signed to Steve during a standard shift at Family Video.

“Uhhhhh…cheese?” Steve guessed. Robin shook her head.

“No, but close!” she countered. Steve groaned.

“How is it close, Robin? How?” he complained. She laughed, then showed him the sign for CHEESE versus MOVIE. They were honestly not that different. “Oh. Okay, yeah.”

W-O-R-K, she fingerspelled next. Steve’s eyes lit up.

“I know this one!!!” he exclaimed, hitting one of his fists on top of the other to sign WORK.

“Yes!” Robin cheered. She quickly corrected herself and signed YES. Steve smiled. CANDY TIME.

When Steve got a sign right, she’d throw an M&M his way so he could catch it in his mouth. It was something they’d started doing together at Scoops Ahoy with various toppings.

M&M’s were much less messy.

Sure, the study and reward method was a bit juvenile, but it worked. Steve practiced, and he learned some basic signs. THANK YOU. PLEASE. SORRY. I KNOW. I DON’T UNDERSTAND. WHAT? AGAIN. He also learned random ones. BIRD. BASKETBALL. VAMPIRE. SODA.

And then, of course, the two of them learned the other essentials - words that they usually just had shared glances for.

HOT, for when an attractive customer came in. COMPLAIN, for when an annoying customer came in. FINISH, when their shift was over.

It worked. They started signing to each other instead of talking whenever possible. Robin let him have all the tasks he could do in the back room or by himself, and she handled a lot of the customers to cover for him. The pressure and stress Steve had been feeling started to melt away, and his headaches got better since he didn't have to focus so much all the time.

His parents knew about his condition, but they never talked much in the first place, so nothing really changed at home. He’d go to work and make do, and then he’d go home, and everything was alright.

About a week of study sessions later, Robin had an idea.

YOUR FRIENDS, she began. Steve stared at her and waited for her to elaborate. She took a deep breath. TELL-THEM YOU CAN.

Steve continued to stare at her quizzically. She was learning all the grammar and shit, and he was still on vocabulary.

MY FRIENDS…YES? He guessed, trying to mimic the one sign he couldn’t remember the meaning to. She shook her head.

C-A-N, she clarified. Steve thought about it. YOUR FRIENDS LOVE YOU, she continued, slower this time. SHOULD KNOW.

Steve sighed. He’d been avoiding Dustin a lot more these last few weeks, because he knew the smartass would figure him out in seconds.

Steve sighed, knowing Robin was right.

O-K, he agreed.

Dustin took it well. He had a lot of questions, but most of them Steve didn’t know the answers to. He quickly decided he would also learn some signs to support Steve. The support made Steve feel so relieved, he told all of his other friends. Well, he told the kids. Max. El. Will. Mike. Lucas. El and Will were planning on moving to California pretty soon with Jonathan and Joyce, so El decided it would be good for her to practice writing letters to Steve, since she’d be doing long distance with Mike and all. Lucas and Mike also made an attempt at learning signs, but they were even shittier at it than Steve was - which honestly made Steve feel even better. They treated it like a secret code they all were learning - kind of like the weird phrases they insisted on saying whenever they used the walkie talkies.

It was all very cute.

Since Steve wasn’t in school, he ended up practicing sign language during most of his free time. It felt good to be doing something for himself. It made him feel smart, and he didn’t feel smart that often. Robin also picked it up pretty fast, which was to be expected.

But then, all of a sudden, school was starting again, and everyone was busy. Steve continued to work and study ASL, but he didn’t have as many shifts with Robin. He would drive the kids to school and to their clubs and stuff, but it was impossible to communicate with a bunch of kids in the car. He went on dates, but the talking part of it all didn’t really work out. He wasn’t connecting with anybody, and he couldn’t understand them half the time. Plus, most of his date spots required loud noises - movies, sports games, etc. He’d go out with women, and he’d have a decent albeit exhausting time trying to keep up, and then sometimes they’d have sex, but if he was being honest - he wasn’t even really enjoying sex as much anymore.

Crazy, right? He couldn’t believe it either.

He was isolated, but getting by. He kept spending down-time at work watching videos about sign language that he’d borrowed from the library, and everywhere he went he tried to think of the sign for what he saw. TREE. CAR. LIGHT. RESTAURANT. BICYCLE. HOUSE. BOOK. STORE.

Eventually, it all started coming together.

It was October - Halloween season. Considering what had happened last Halloween, Steve wasn’t too thrilled about it. Neither were some of the kids, primarily Will and El. Times had been tough for El especially after losing Hopper, and Steve knew that. It seemed like she had a decent support system though. Jonathan’s mom had taken her in, and she was dating Mike as well. She’d be okay, Steve hoped.

Then came the big moving day for the Byers and El. Steve had to admit he was a bit jealous. He’d wanted to get out of Hawkins forever, but now he had Dustin and Robin tying him there.

Jonathan got to escape this town and he was dating Nancy? Such bullshit.

Not that Steve was pining over Nancy anymore. He’d always love her, in a way, but he’d moved on. They didn’t work together, and that was that. Over and out, as the kids would say on their stupid walkie talkies.

Anyway, El may have been alright, but Steve had his doubts about Will. He didn’t really know how to broach the subject, but he noticed that when he picked the kids up, Will was usually pretty quiet.

An outsider, kind of like Steve.

So, when moving day arrived, Steve offered to help. He knew that Nancy and Jonathan would be there and their farewells would be a whole thing he had no interest in being around for, but he was pretty strong and he could carry boxes and help the kids, at least.

But when he showed up, he saw Will in the backyard by himself. Steve gave a small wave, then slowly approached the kid and sat down beside him.

WHAT’S-UP, Steve signed. It was one of the signs he taught all the kids. Will shrugged. Steve watched Will intently as he waited for his response.

“I don’t want to move,” Will said. “I like my house. And my friends.” Will caught himself, realizing he knew an applicable sign, then added FRIENDS. Steve smiled.

UNDERSTAND, he replied. That was another sign he taught the kids. “This sucks.”

“How do you sign that?” Will asked. “That it sucks.”

Steve knew that one, obviously. He knew a lot of signs now, but that was one he used a lot. He brought the tip of his pointer finger to his chin and frowned. Will repeated the action, then raised his eyebrows. Steve nodded in approval. Will’s hands dropped back into his lap, and the forlorn look on his face came back.

“I guess I just -” Will began, averting his eyes from Steve and staring in the distance. “They’re gonna forget about me here. They’re already -” He sighed. “It feels like I’m being left behind, even though I’m the one leaving.” Steve nodded gently, understanding the feeling all too well.

Will was the member of the party Steve had interacted with the least, probably because the other kids were a bit - uhhh - louder. Dustin and Steve were like brothers, Lucas and Steve could talk about basketball, El and Max were by no means close with Steve but he still felt like a surrogate older brother to them, and Mike was -

Okay, Mike and Steve didn’t really get along. That was to be expected, considering everything. They weren’t mean to each other or anything, they were just awkward and mildly annoyed with each other most of the time.

Will was different. Steve had been filled in on what happened to Will through Dustin, and it was - well, yeah. Will had it rough. And no one ever really talked about it. It was like, Will went through this whole traumatic thing, but he was back to “normal” now, so everything was fine. But it wasn’t fine, and he was getting sick and tired of pretending it was.

Whoops. Okay. Maybe Steve was connecting with Will more than he anticipated he would.

That was probably where a lot of the disconnect came from with everyone in Steve’s life except for Robin. The two of them had been tortured together for hours underground. Steve got the brunt of it. And they were drugged and threatened and nearly killed dozens of times. But they escaped and got out and then they were fighting a giant monster and fireworks were going off and then people died and there was no space for Steve to talk about what had happened to him.

He probably needed a therapist, but if he saw a shrink his dad would never let him hear the end of it. Besides, how could he explain any of his trauma to them? He couldn’t talk about it with anyone except his close group of friends, and he didn’t want to burden them with it, so he just…didn’t talk about it.

Steve wanted to say so many things to Will, but he also felt like he had no right to give any advice on friends or happiness. Steve had left the majority of his friends behind, willingly, and he didn’t regret it, but he also was sad about it. He missed it in some weird, fucked up way he couldn’t explain. Especially Tommy. God, all they did was argue and get in each other’s faces, but they knew each other better than anyone else. The best and the worst of it - mostly the worst, though.

“Well, I won’t forget you,” Steve said, hoping the reassurance would provide some kind of comfort.

“You don’t know me,” Will replied. “And don’t you hate my brother?”

Oof. Valid argument, but still. Steve’s thoughts on Jonathan were…complicated, to say the least.

“I don’t hate him,” Steve responded. “And your brother isn’t you.”

When Steve spoke, he tried to translate it in his head. It had become a habit. HATE DON’T. YOU, YOUR BROTHER, NOT-SAME.

He was getting pretty good at the sign language thing.

“I’m probably just going to sit out here and be sad,” Will said with a shrug.

“Okay,” Steve replied. “Is it okay if I sit here and be sad too?”

Will turned to Steve, confused at first, but then his face relaxed into something different. He nodded.

Everyone inside seemed to be doing just fine without them, anyway.

The Byers (and El) moved to California. Lucas, Dustin, and Mike joined Hellfire club, which they were really excited about. The first few times Dustin had told Steve about it, the dipshit was so excited Steve only got like half of what he was being told. For example, he thought the boys were getting ready to drink champagne for the first time or something, which was weird, but whatever. Kids are weird. And then later he realized they were preparing for a campaign.

They had shirts. Steve recognized the shirts. Then, it all made sense.

He’d heard of Hellfire before. They were kind of hard to miss. They were the exact opposite of cool, even though Dustin seemed to think that wasn’t the case. An underground sort of cool, he’d explained.

Yeah. Sure, buddy.

Steve knew from his years at Hawkins High that those guys were not treated with any sort of respect. The only popularity they had was the negative kind. People knew who they were, and they stayed away. They were weird.

At the same time, Steve wasn’t surprised the boys had joined. It was a Dungeons and Dragons club, after all - Of course, Steve didn’t actually make that connection until Dustin had made him aware. He wasn’t sure what he thought Hellfire did back when he was in school, but it certainly wasn’t a nerdy roleplaying game. They gave off a different vibe. Like, a chaotic anarchist kind of vibe. Most of Steve’s perception came from the guy who led it - Eddie Munson, the school freak. That’s what they called him. Steve and Eddie had never really interacted, because why would they have? They were both seniors when Steve graduated, but Eddie was a year older. And he still hadn’t graduated.

Tough deal.

Anyway, Dustin was obsessed with Eddie. He worshiped the guy, basically. And Steve couldn’t help but be a little jealous - not that he’d ever admit that, of course. But Dustin was around Eddie more often, and they could talk about things they enjoyed freely and without having to stop every ten seconds to repeat themselves.

So, yeah. Steve was bitter about it.

He usually picked the kids up from Hellfire after school, because the “champagnes” (no, they never let Steve live that one down) sometimes went pretty late. Plus, Steve was the wheels in most circumstances - he drove Robin to school every morning, too.

He was probably at Hawkins High more often than he had been when he attended the damn school.

Anyway, one night in particular, Steve waited outside the drama club room for Lucas, Mike, and Dustin to walk out and hop in the car like they always did, but they were running late.

Again. Oh, joy.

Steve parked the car and headed inside, only to find everything packed up (thankfully), but everyone was still absorbed in conversation.

Steve couldn’t follow. They were all talking over each other and about things that he didn’t really understand well in the first place. Plus, there was music playing in the background, which muddied everything else in his brain. So, he waited and watched them interact. And then everyone was looking at him, and he didn’t know why.

“What?” Steve asked, totally lost. He turned to the boys, who all tried to explain what Steve had missed in their own way. Steve caught them flashing a few signs his way. JOKE. IGNORE. HE DON’T-KNOW.

Ehh, Steve kind of pieced it together. Eddie probably made some sort of comment about how awkward Steve was being without knowing why. It was probably for the best that Steve didn’t hear it. Instead, he turned to Eddie so he could share what was going on.

But then, Eddie signed to him.

YOU DEAF?

Steve’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He nodded. YOU SIGN?!

MOM DEAF, Eddie explained. Before Steve had the chance to ask a follow-up question, Eddie answered one of them. MOM DEAD NOW. Eddie turned away to face the boys, then pivoted back to Steve. BEFORE, COULD HEAR. RIGHT? HAPPEN WHEN?

Eddie’s signing skills seemed almost natural. Clearly he’d been doing it for ages. Steve nodded.

NEW, he explained. He was blanking on the sign for “recent” due to the fact that he was so stunned. MY SIGNING… Oh, God. Steve couldn’t remember how to say anything. He wanted to say that he was still learning, so he wasn’t that good. Instead, he did the universal hand gesture for “iffy,” which worked well enough. The boys and the other club members all watched this interaction in awe as Eddie processed this with a small nod.

O-K, Eddie replied.

And that was it. Eddie went back to talking to the boys, and presumably dismissed them as they all scattered away to collect their bags. Eddie wasn’t even looking at Steve.

That was kind of a bummer.

Up until then, Steve hadn’t met anyone else who signed (except for Robin), so this was kind of huge. At the same time, it was Eddie. Like, Steve had come a long way from his King Steve days, but the dude was a loose cannon. He was always drawing attention to himself and jumping on tables and shit. They had nothing in common, originally, but now they had two gigantic things in common - Dustin and sign language.

Steve took the kids home as he usually did, but he didn’t even attempt to focus on what they were saying. Besides, he was still thinking about, well, everything.

A part of him was annoyed, because of course the other older brother figure for Dustin was cool enough to know sign language. Of course. The other part of him was over the moon. He had someone to talk to and practice with. Although, that was only if Eddie was interested, which he very well might not have been. Plus, it was also kind of against the rules of the school. The jock and the freak spending time together? It just didn’t happen.

Then again, Steve wasn’t going to Hawkins High anymore. He could make his own rules.

He couldn’t wait to tell Robin about all of this. She was going to lose her damn mind.

------------------

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#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #robin buckley #writing #steddie fic #songs that voices never share #st fic #eddie munson x steve harrington #deaf steve harrington

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fantastic-nonsense · 3 months

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Hiii do u have any comic recs with a young Bruce?

I’ve heard abt the dark Halloween but I’m not as interested in the joker… I read year one (rlly good). The nightwalkers comic adaptation felt like fanfiction…

Year one focused more on how Batman came to be but I wished I could read smth more Bruce focused, if u know what I mean! (Nightwalkers had terrible themes and even poorer execution lol)

I’m mostly wanting to delve on his relationships with other people, I watched the first Nolan movie and thought it was rlly entertaining! I especially liked Rachel, bc I’m a romantic… sorry. But yeah ! Thank u sm ^__^

Batman: The Knight is a frankly delightful miniseries specifically about Bruce's training days abroad before he returns to Gotham! It doesn't have much to do with Bruce's romantic relationships (he has a girlfriend named Dana in it, but she's really only seen in flashbacks and not a very prominent character), but it's a very interesting exploration of how Bruce becomes Batman.

Otherwise...this is basically the premise of Zero Year. If you read the synopsis of that story, you might notice a lot of similarities between the premize of Zero Year and the plot of The Batman (2022). That's because Matt Reeves drew a lot of inspiration from Zero Year's plot when making that movie. So if you liked that depiction of Bruce, you'll probably like Zero Year.

Another early years!Batman comic you might enjoy is Batman: Dark Moon Rising, which collects two miniseries: Batman and the Monster Men and Batman and the Mad Monk. They both take place in between Batman: Year One and The Man Who Laughs (Bruce's first time fighting the Joker).

If you want to delve into young!Bruce's relationships with other people, you should read Detective Comics #457 and Detective Comics #574 for stories focused on Bruce's relationship with Leslie Thompkins, who in modern continuity helped raise Bruce alongside Alfred. You might also find Batman: Year Three to be of interest to you. It was the first "big" modern retelling of Dick Grayson's origin and how he became Robin.

Romance-wise, early days Comics!Bruce dated actress Julie Madison (they were actually engaged at one point!). I'm not the best person to give recs for her, unfortunately, since her appearances are mostly confined to Golden Age comics and the New 52.

However, if you're interested in young!Bruce's romances regardless of whether they're comic canon or not...go watch Mask of the Phantasm. Frankly, you should do it even if you aren't. It's an absolutely incredible movie and honestly everyone should watch it. 10/10, top-tier drama and a top-tier Batman movie.

#also AS A BONUS Batman: The Knight features Ghost-Maker #so. you know. it doesn't exactly have romance in it but it doesn't exactly NOT have romance in it asdfghjkl #asks #bri's recs #batman #bruce wayne #rip to Vicki Vale but I am NOT giving recs for that woman

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ordinaryschmuck · 2 months

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I think the reason why you often see more game/show/movie announcements for a random Marvel character you never heard of where DC primarily focuses on Batman and Batman related characters is because...Marvel built more trust with the obscure.

All the way back when they started the MCU, Marvel didn't have the rights to its more iconic, recognizable, and, more important, marketable characters. Spider-Man went to Sony, X-Men and Fantastic Four went to Fox, and even the Hulk was technically owned Universal. By the time the MCU was being conceived, Marvel only had its C-listers and D-listers. No one even HEARD of characters like Ant-Man, Doctor Strange, and ESPECIALLY the Guardians of the Galaxy before the MCU. Even characters like Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, characters considered Marvel's big three nowadays, characters who the MCU relied on, weren't as huge as DC's big three. Meanwhile, DC had access to ALL of its characters, relying on its most recognizable IPs like Batman and Superman...And, oh yeah, I guess Wonder Woman was there too...Sometimes.

But the biggest seller was always Batman. Because how could he not be? He looked cool, he had an impressive rogues gallery to make toys of, and is everything for DC as Spider-Man was to Marvel. Both Batman and Spider-Man could sell anything. But Marvel technically didn't have the FULL rights to Spider-Man and DC...didn't bother with its other characters. Batman made bank with his videogames, movies, and TV shows to the point where they could sell a Gotham prequel series to Fox and STILL make a lot of cash. Why bother making a movie about Aquaman or The Flash when it likely won't sell as well as BATMAN. Sure, you got a Green Arrow TV show on the same network as a Superman prequel series, but that didn't change how most of DC's other projects weren't connected to Batman in someway.

Teen Titans was a show that starred Robin, Batman's sidekick. Same with Young Justice. And the only time kids got introduced to other DC characters, it was for a campy show like Batman: The Brave and the Bold where BATMAN teamed up with a hero a week. Which would have been a smart way to bring other characters into the light, but it's still connected strictly through BATMAN. Even now, DC has what is best described as a Batman problem. The Flash was a movie that featured two versions of Batman, one of them bringing in nostalgia through a past Batman movie instead of focusing on an old Flash product. And with the last few years, the only video games were Batman related, with Gotham Knights starring Batman's sidekicks and that Suicide Squad game starring Harley Quinn, a BATMAN villain who goes to kill BATMAN that's actually the same BATMAN from an old BATMAN game.

And yeah...I love Batman. We ALL love Batman. He's the coolest character ever conceived and it's the easiest thing in the world to make a movie about him. It might not be a GOOD movie sometimes, but it's at least a movie that'll make billions. But with this over-saturation of Batman, it left DC unsure if they can make anything big WITHOUT him. Because how can they be sure it'll succeed without their signature character that gave them a shitload of money?

But let's go back to Marvel. Starting a cinematic universe without their most popular IPs was a risk. They SORT of had the rights to the Hulk, but...there was no way Hulk would have made more money than a Spider-Man movie. If they wanted to make a successful franchise, Marvel had to put more faith in its other characters, allowing to make good movies and hope that enough people would be interested to see more. And...it worked. Iron Man was a hit, Thor and Captain America got people interest, and the big pay off was the box office smash that was The Avengers. Everyone started to know these characters and it didn't stop there. Guardians of the Galaxy became popular enough to be another big franchise for Marvel, Black Panther became the most popular Black superhero after Blade (another Marvel character), and people were left BEGGING for Spider-Man and the X-Men to join this universe so they could see their old favorites interact with their NEW favorites. And that just...never stopped. Marvel kept pushing more and more characters to the spotlight, with it paying it off for them.

Before 2014, NO ONE would consider buying a Guardians of the Galaxy game. But due to the MCU's revamping of those characters, it was enough to make people willing to do so. And in a few years, we're getting games based on Iron Man, Captain America and Black Panther, and JUST Black Panther, all because the Marvel had enough faith to turn this C-listers into A-listers. As for TV shows, we've got connected MCU stuff like Moon Knight and Ms. Marvel, but also a really good and imaginative cartoon with Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur.

Now, to be fair, it's not paying off for Marvel, especially with Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania and The Marvels causing the studio to lose bank. They're even thinking about cutting back on riskier stuff and focusing on their bigger franchises. Which...honestly sounds dumb to me not only because the MCU was founded on taking risks, but also because DC is exactly what you get when you focus on JUST the money makers. We're still getting nothing but Batman and Batman related characters or movies/universes that references nothing but Batman. To the point where I just want DC to retire Batman for a year, maybe TWO tops. Marvel proved that you can make a hit if you let other characters than the most marketable one. Even if it fails like The Marvels did, it's not because Captain Marvel isn't as iconic as Iron Man, it's because the movie wasn't as well-written enough. It was a fun time, sure, but not as strongly written as other MCU films. And that's what DC needs to learn and Marvel to remember: It's not about who's the most popular, it's about strong writing.

Hopefully we get more attention on lesser-known Marvel and DC characters in the future.

#marvel comics #dc comics #batman

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ihatepeanutss · 4 months

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could anyone think of steve being a hockey player dating an actress!reader who eventually becomes a singer? | modern au

eddie was the one who presented them, you had been an actress in one of her video clips and part of the cast of the photoshoot of her new album, you looked like a diva or that’s what her classmates had said when she mentioned that she knew Eddie.

“y/n? i’ve heard that she’s a diva,” Lucas replied before drinking from his cup of coffee, “but it’s just rumors”

steve met you at the release party of Eddie’s album, you remember perfectly how steve didn’t know how to get close but you did it by telling him that you had seen one of his games almost nothing.

the rest? a beautiful history, it began with an exchange of numbers, night outings between friends, night outings became reservations in restaurants and private hotels just for the two of you, private and subtle trips but not so subtle gifts.

steve’s language of love was to give gifts, there was no day where there was no small arrangement of flowers, did you have to go to another state to record a movie? it doesn’t matter, he would send his assistant to look for the flower shop closest to the recording plate to be able to send you one personally, when they were together it couldn’t be better, on his days off he would drive to you without caring if he only had to see you for two minutes.

when you finally decided to go to a hockey game on your own as a surprise I made steve, you took your big hockey shirt that had steve’s number, your hair in a tail with a bow, just as I liked steve. you had released a record have nothing, your second studio album and steve had been mostly

with your phone in hand, t-shirt with the last name “harrington” and the number 85, you were in the box that belonged exclusively to steve, one that I had bought in case someone close to him wants to go see him, you were next to Robin when they focused on you and Max was next to you wearing a cap with the steve team. the islanders of New York

“y/n! the number one fan of our star player harrington!” one of the commentators spoke through the microphone while the cameras showed you and you only showed your number and your boy’s last name with pride

steve smiled from his place and threw a disgusting and very romantic kiss while shouting “that’s my girl” making the whole damn stadium scream

when the game ended everything had your face screaming, insulting and recording every game of steve, believe me you had never felt as good as now. you quickly ended up having questions about steve in an interview

“i liked hockey, you know? just because my stepfather is from Canada and because mostly the players are... beautiful and watching them run for a disco is usually fun” you answered the interviewer with a laugh “but honestly i love watching steve play and I probably tried to stretch my schedules to see him”

The rest publicly was history, steve barely knew how to use social networks but you couldn’t help but upload a post with him, especially in your favorite way, soft launch. small details, his hand on your thigh, a subtle photo of him reading on the sofa and your reflection in the big mirror they had in their living room.

when you and steve decided to go through the most serious things in addition to daring to share wardrobe and dressing room with the most vain man you have ever met in your existence, to commit, to love each other until the end of his days and if you wanted to start a family.

steve declared himself on one knee at the sweetest, private and most special dinner of all, he had cooked himself after appearing in surprise with his suitcases and sticks telling you that they had canceled the game and you foolishly believed him. a delicate ring but important enough for you and steve, he had an oval blue sapphire and a beautiful oval diamond of 5-7 carats

#steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x shy!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #hockey!steve harrington #bambi’s thoughts 💭#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ bambi’s fics

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fluffansmut · 5 months

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📞

Eddie Munson x Crybaby!fairy!Reader

Fairy’s first Christmas - December 20

Steve and Robin, the fairy-sitters.

Advent calendar | masterlist

📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞

You were the grumpiest fairy that could be found in all of Indiana today.

Eddie had to go away.

It was only for a few hours, because Wayne needed his help.

You had tried to bargain with him.

“I can come with you, I promise that I wont be in the way.”

Eddie smiled sadly at your pouty face with the trembling bottom lip.

“I’m sorry baby.” He said, “even though I really want you to come, I’m afraid that you’ll get lost, and besides, it’s really boring.”

“but I don’t wanna be alone” You confessed.

“How about I see what I can do about that?”

The phone call between Steve and Eddie had been just about as strange as it gets when you ask your friend to baby-sit your magical creature.

But he had agree, and he had roped Robin into it too, as the two had to do the inventory at family video together that day, not that she was hard to convince.

He dropped you off into Robins palm outside family videos staff entrance, he instructed you to have a good day, before he pressed a kiss to your head and hopped back into the truck.

You curled up in the palm and brought your knees to your chest. Your wings slouching sadly over you.

“Oh honey,” Robin said, as she turned to enter the store. “STEVE”

The startled jump that Steve made at her sudden shout made you smile some, but it wasn’t enough to lift your spirits.

“What do you want Robin?” Steve asked as he turned to face the woman, who looked just as normal as usual to him.

“You really have to ask?” She said, eyebrow raised in question.

“Huh?” Steve asked not getting what she was hinting at, until she motioned clearly to the hand where you were sitting.

“Ohhh”

Steve lifted her hand until you were eye level with him.

“Now what has got you so down in the dumps?”

“Eddie left.” You mumbled, picking at the edge of your skirt, a habit you developed whilst anxious.

“You know that he will be back, right?” Steve reassured, whist glancing nervously towards Robin, unsure if what he was doing was helping at all.

“Yes.” You said almost inaudible, as if you didn’t dare to say it if it might not come true then.

“Good, cause he absolutely will.” Steve said. Then he smiled at you.

“How about we start of slow with a movie?” Robin suggested.

Steve got to work, shoving a cheesy Christmas film into the vhs slot on the TV that was mounted on the wall in the store.

Meanwhile Robin made you a makeshift cuddlenest out of her scarf and hat.

You still felt sadness as she carefully lowered you onto the scarf, but it got a bit better when you cuddled up.

You focused on the movie and the duo got back to double-checking the inventory.

Your eyelids became heavy about a third way into the movie and you closed them as you told yourself that it would be less time left until Eddie returned when you woke up.

Eddie wasn’t back yet when you woke up, but your usual high spirits were.

You had an itch for pranks and you knew exactly who to play then on.

Steve was sitting reading though the inventory list, with a puzzled look upon his face.

He had a pencil stuck behind his ear.

You shook the sleep out of your wings before you took off… focus set on the pencil.

“Do you get any of this shit?” Steve muttered to Robin who was busy stacking tapes as she swayed to the music which they had on.

Robin replied with her back still turned to Steve in the same moment as you snatched the pencil, you preached yourself up on the computer, waiting patiently for them to realise where you were.

“It must be that right there, or what do you think?” Steve said and Robin hummed in agreement as she hovered over the paper.

Then came the moment, the one you had been waiting for.

Steve grabbed at the space above his ear, again and again becoming more frantic as he couldn’t find it.

When he accepted the fact that the pencil wasn’t where he left it, he stood circling the floor like a dog, searching for it.

Now this sent you into a giggle fit, which caught their attention.

“You’ve been pranked” Robin said, laughing herself as she made her way over to you.

“The next time you want to play tricks on him, then tell me, we’ll team up”

You nodded frantically at her suggestion.

“Hey!” Steve said.

You and Robin both flashed him your most sheepish smiles.

This isn’t so bad after all. You thought.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fairy!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #crybaby!reader #fairy!reader

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cluz1babe · 10 months

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I tried to write reader with no comments on size (as in plus size) or the length of hair, in order to be as inclusive I can be with an afab reader. Reader is 18, Eddie is 20. For obvious reasons, Eddie didn’t die. No use of Y/NIf you want to be Tagged for future chapters, send me a message. Please reblog.

Certain Dark Things Are Meant to Be Loved Chapter 1

Warnings: Reader afab, angst, nipple torture/play, oral, p in v, fingering, sort of protected sex, mentions of underage sex

You were average…everything.

How could Eddie possibly know you were alive, let alone want to be with you?

That was, until you attacked the bats that were eating Eddie alive, earning a few bites of your own. After that, everything changed. Suddenly, Eddie started inviting you to parties and offered you weed at one point. All while you started falling in love with him. You always had a crush on him from afar (living in the same trailer park didn’t help), but he was one of the last people you expected to notice you. After all, you were shy and quiet. You hated being so invisible. It wasn’t like those stories you hear about. You weren't the popular one or another nerd like Eddie. It was just the random girl & the Freak.

You had become more attracted to Eddie since you officially met him. You were both seniors together. You had started out as friends with benefits with Steve, but then went back to just being friends when Steve decided he wanted to find romance. This was the type of relationship you had with people, keeping them at a distance and focusing on yourself. You admitted to Eddie that you were previously in a relationship with a guy named Justin, who not only cheated, but made everything about himself. Why Steve ever paid you attention was beyond you. You were so different, but he was immediately drawn to you, when you helped Steve look for a product in the store where you worked. You had been visiting Steve and Robin at Family Video when Dustin and Max came in. After you all fought Vecna, Eddie and you became friends quickly. You bonded over guitar, music, and movies. Then things evolved.

You talked about what you each planned for the future, past relationships (your first kiss was a girl and you liked girls, too), and even about your loss of virginity stories. Eddie was 16 when he lost his in the back of his van. He had been so nervous that the girl had to be on top, taking charge. You lost yours at 16. It was a secret you hadn’t told anyone else. You were a sophomore and the guy was a junior. You were going to a different school then. Eddie bristled. He was already protective over you and he wished he’d known you then, just so he could warn you about this guy. As though it were his place to do such a thing.

To Eddie, you weren’t that random girl anymore. You the one who helped fight demobats to save him before they all fell. Over a few weeks, he saw what he hadn’t before. He saw you. More than that, he saw your beauty, strength, and calmness under pressure. And he wanted you in his life. You babysat Eddie when he tripped on acid, with the promise that you would do it together some day. You watched crappy horror movies, listened to music, and smoked pot. Eddie even taught you a little bit of guitar. Being able to touch you and hold you close, even if it was completely innocent, made him want more.

After about three weeks of hanging out together, you found you had much more in common than just fighting supernatural stuff. Your feelings for each other grew. One night, you went to swim at the Harringtons’ house and that’s where you first kissed, after Eddie asked, of course. “Yes,” you practically yelled. It was enough for Eddie. He took his time, gently caressing your cheek. You leaned in first, bringing your lips within a centimeter of his. He smiled before touching his lips to yours. It was soft and sweet at first, but it quickly turned hungry with all the longing that was built up between them.

“Can I touch you more?” Eddie asked.

You looked around, even though you were both alone, you felt it was better not to. “Not here.” You gave him another quick peck before pulling him to the shallow end and out of the water.

- - - - - - - -

You made it to Eddie’s new trailer (one big enough for another large bedroom) and as soon as the door was closed behind you, his lips were on you again, moving your damp hair out of the way and kissing the back of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. You turned to face him. “Can’t even wait till we get to your room?”

“Absolutely not,” he teased as he leaned in to kiss you again.

You giggled, “C’mon.” You pulled him to his room, where you continued kissing. “Now you can touch me.”

He didn’t waste any time. His hands grazed from your sides to your breasts, where he gave them a quick squeeze. You moaned in response, which caused Eddie to chuckle. “You like that?”

You nodded, “I like it rough.”

“Sweetheart, that wasn’t rough.”

“I know, silly. Just thought I’d let you know… I like having my nipples pulled.”

“Really?” Eddie admired your chest as he pulled off your shirt, which was wettish from your wet skin clinging to it. He backed you up to his bed. When you lay down, you pulled him with you. He was between your legs before you knew what to do.

The heat in your belly grew. “Eddie,” it came out as a whisper.

“What?”

“Don’t go catching feelings.” You felt like you had to say it. Something inside you wanted to guard against heartbreak before it could happen. The only way you could do that is by pretending you didn’t already have those feelings. You trusted Eddie, but your experience had led to more than one bad breakup.

With that, he kissed you again, longer and hungrier. It was too late. He already had feelings, but he wanted you so bad. Once you were naked, he spread your legs open and worshipped your skin; the skin of your thighs, especially. “I need you to tell me what you like.”

“I like a lot of things, but I’ve never had an orgasm with a partner.”

This caught Eddie’s attention.

“And even by myself, it takes a toy to get me to cum. I’ve only ever been able to do that with my fingers once.”

“Poor baby.” He felt bad for you, never having a partner who could make you cum. He accepted the challenge with enthusiasm, though. Perhaps these other guys didn’t take the time you needed. Getting to do this with you was something he’d wanted to do for weeks. He even thought about you when he touched himself, imagining you were between his legs, your mouth doing it’s work.

“I still enjoy sex. It feels good.”

“I’m gonna do my best to change this orgasm issue. Tell me more.” He kissed from your neck to your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and biting the delicate bud just enough to make you moan.

“I like having my clit played with, for starters.”

He moved his fingers to your clit, circling his index finger around the bundle, which caused you to buck your hips forward.

“Tell me what kind of toy you have.” Eddie continued his track of kisses, sucking or biting every now and then.

“It’s called a rabbit. A very good friend sent it to me from Japan. She knows about my problem. It has a shaft and a vibrating clit stimulator.”

“You’ll have to show it to me sometime.” He increased the speed of his finger around your nub. You moaned and arched your back. The sounds you were making were better than he’d imagined. So dirty. So soft. The sight of you was even better. Everything about what was happening was so much better. “How big is the shaft?”

“Three, maybe four fingers. Fingers my size, anyway.”

He moved his fingers to tease your entrance. “I think we’ll start with two.” With that, he plunged his fingers into your slick, warm hole, causing you to moan again. “Do you use it to fuck yourself?”

“Yes.”

His fingers pumped in and out. He pushed in up to his knuckle and hooked his fingers. “Does it reach here?” He was hitting your g-spot perfectly as he played with you.

You gasped and grabbed his arm. “Not that well,” you whimpered.

“Tell me if you want me to change or do anything else.” Eddie immediately bent down and licked your bundle, then he sucked on it.

“Mmm. Yes. Harder.”

He happily complied. Hearing you give him directions caused a heat he’d never felt before to radiate from his chest to his belly, then down to his crotch. He also reached up to pinch and pull at your nipple with his free hand. He wrapped his tongue around your clit and sucked more. He ate you out like it would be the last time he’d ever get to do it.

You nearly screamed. “Oh fuck! What are you doing to me?”It only egged him on. “Eddie,” you moaned.

He lifted his head to look at you. “Hmm?”

The sight of his face, chin wet with your juices, caused a pulsing in your center. “No, don’t stop.” You pushed his head back down to your wet core, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He smirked then continued his work, fucking you with his fingers and teasing, then sucking on your clit, pulling and squeezing hard on your nipple. His hips grinding against the bed, looking for any amount of friction. You played with your other nipple with your free hand. It went on for at least twenty minutes. Eddie was determined to make you cum.

Your hand tugged at his hair a little as you keened and sobbed. “Fuck, Eddie. I’m close.”

He squeezed your nipple harder and a few seconds later, your entire body tensed, then it vibrated as you came on his tongue. He moaned as he tasted your release, but he let go of your nipple and licked your folds. Each time his tongue touched your clit, your body spasmed. You were so sensitive now.

As soon as you came back to your senses, you reached for his bulge, “What about you? Don’t you want me to take care of you?”

“I do,” he groaned. Eddie kissed you and you tasted yourself on his lips. “But I wanna fuck you.”

You smiled wide. “I want you to.”

His hand moved from around your waist, and up to your breast again, giving it a squeeze. The same hand smoothed its way over your abdomen. You nodded, not knowing what else to say. He teased your entrance with the tip of his cock, circling your clit and making your body arch into his. He slipped himself inside of you. He was a little clumsy in his movements, but you didn’t mind. You smiled against his lips and grabbed his hands, relishing in the feeling of him against you. He pushed just the tip in, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of the warm, stiff flesh splitting you in two. He bent his head to catch your attention on his face, but you ignored it for a while, knowing he couldn’t make you look up just yet. You just watched him sink slowly in. You mewled when he buried himself to the hilt, deep in your pussy. Eddie was staring at you, starry eyed, drinking you in as he bit his bottom lip to try to hold his noises in.

Clinging on to his biceps, your fingernails dug into his skin, your hips rolling up to meet his as Eddie thrusted into your heat. He pistoned his hips, changing the angle inside of you, rubbing against your inner sweet spot. You felt his lips devour your neck and jaw. Your eyes couldn’t focus, your hands were shaking. All your brain could focus on was Eddie Munson. You released ecstatic whines and noticed how he breathed, how hot his skin was, how hard he was...

He slid out painfully slow and then hit home. He nipped and kissed at every spot of your skin he had access to, leaving a wet trail. He brought your nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting. You whimpered his name, begging him not to stop what he was doing. "Fuck," he whispered savagely, his breath ghosting against your neck as he tried so hard not to cum too soon. Liquid heat rushed right between your legs as you held on to him and screamed. He felt you clench around him and made a noise of pleasure, drawing out a long, powerful thrust that had every nerve in your body singing.

You repositioned the two of you, having him lay on his back. One hand pressed into his chest, as you rode Eddie quickly, chasing another high with every brush of his cock deep inside you. Eddie’s breathing was short and shallow, grunting out loose, incoherent words. He was rubbing your clit with his fingers. You fisted his hair in response, earning a growl. You bit your lip as his hips bucked quicker. His voice pitched higher as his body worked faster. He was almost there.

“Eddie! Fuck!” When you came, you lost your wits for a moment, which Eddie thought meant that he had to chase his high on his own, but you got off of him, bringing your mouth to his length and licking him up and down.

“I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am, but I want to taste you.” You smiled before you started bobbing your head up and down his length.

“Baby, fuck. You’re fucking amazing. Never thought—“ He was going to say something about his feelings, but you started sucking harder. Within seconds, he was coming undone beneath you. You swallowed every drop of him and he pulled you up to kiss him.

That night, you fell asleep with his arms around you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic

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kitseddie · 9 months

Text

This Must Be The Place

Chapter 3: 1980’s Horror Film

Part 1 Part 2

Part 4

(Eddie Munson x GN!Reader)

Summary: It’s finally time for your not-date. You and Eddie head to the movies and reminisce about your childhoods together.

WC: 5k

Warnings: talk of horror movies (somewhat spoilers for Carrie?) one mention of periods, drugs (weed), also didn’t realise before but I use female anatomy for the reader so still gn just afab!

A/N: Literally get so giddy whenever I see everyone liking or reblogging or tagging this fic for their lists, I appreciate it so much I’ve had so much fun writing this! This is one of my favourite chapters it is fluff central it’s tooth rooting sweet

As soon as Eddie got home, he collapsed onto his mystery-stained mattress and stared up at his ceiling. There was no backing out now, it wasn’t long until he would be meeting you at the movie theatre. Pulling himself to his feet, he started making his way to the mirror. His glance landed on the cherry red guitar hanging from his wall, as he let out a deep breath thinking back to what Robin had said to him the night before.

“You play guitar and you're in a band, people find that attractive”.

He nodded to himself, meeting his own eyes as his ringed fingers attempted to tame his hair. Right on cue, his bedroom door flung open as he quickly tried to mask the shameless grooming. Robin made a beeline for the closet while Steve suddenly became entranced by the posters of heavy metal legends that littered his walls.

“How the hell did you guys get in here?”. He growled as Robin pushed some coat hangers aside and laid his clothes on the bed. She gasped and held a shirt over her torso to show Steve, his eyebrows raised as he rushed over to get a closer look. “Hey! Lisa, Louise, a little help here?”. He wiggled his hands around to get their attention, as they shared a look of mutual confusion. His hand reached for the bridge of his nose, using all his willpower to summon some patience.

“Lisa and Louise Burns? Stephen King? The Shining? ”. It quickly became obvious that the reference was lost on them. He immediately gave up and returned to styling his makeshift mullet in the mirror. Robin chuckled, rolling her eyes as she glanced over at Steve.

“God, he’s turning into you ”. Steve scoffed at her remark, his hands finding their way to his hips. Eddie ignored them, focusing on the task at hand as they had one of their usual back and forths.

“What is that such a bad thing? Good hair maintenance is a great trait to have, sure it might take an extra hour in the morning-” Robin scoffed back, her mouth wide.

“HOUR? Steve Harrington, you are not going to stand here and tell me you spend, sixty whole minutes on your hair. How do you get anything done?”. Eddie turned around and clapped his hands together, making them both look over at him.

“Alright, you two knuckleheads have been here ten minutes and neither of you has been gracious enough to explain why you’re rummaging through my shit like feral raccoons.” He widened his eyes, still receiving no response as Robin picked up an outfit she laid out and held it against his frame with a nod of approval. He really began to wonder how he’d ended up friends with these idiots. Eddie sighed, hanging his head. “This is about tonight isn’t it? What, you don’t trust me to not fuck it up, is that it?”.

“No, Eddie. We just…we know this is sorta new for you and thought you might need some moral support”. Steve nodded in agreement, giving him a hearty thumbs up. “We just wanted to ease the pressure a little, I thought maybe I could help you pick out the right outfit and Steve could give you some advice on how to, you know…” She made incoherent hand gestures. “Woo them”. A laugh escaped his lips, as he shook his head. He couldn’t believe that he was agreeing to this. He reached for the outfit she had picked out and held it against his frame, checking himself out in the mirror.

“See, what I was thinking was that we could put a nice jacket over this? Maybe some combat boots?”. His smile was warm and thankful, he simply nodded and headed to the bathroom to change. The mirror on his bathroom cabinet was much smaller but gave him a better look at himself. He was surprised to find himself liking it. Or at least not hating it. With a small smile, he reentered the bedroom and did a slight turn, modelling himself for his friends. They had settled on a black sabbath shirt that he had previously cut into a muscle tee, a pair of black jeans (paired with his chains, of course) and a pair of black combat boots, just like Robin had envisioned.

Steve let out a whistle and nodded to himself, impressed by his friend’s styling skills. “Looking good, Munson”. Eddie grinned deviously, patting Steve on the shoulder.

“Careful hot shot, I’m not off the market just yet”. Steve chuckled, shaking his head at his shameless flirty nature, as Eddie turned back towards the mirror. The more he looked at himself, the more it all started to grow on him. He had to admit that it had given him a little boost of confidence that he was lacking before they had shown up. Now he was just wondering what you’d think when you saw him.

Nervous was an understatement, it had been almost a decade since you’d hung out and he wasn’t sure how to act around you. And the same question swirled around and around in his mind, was this a date? He was broken out of his thoughts by Steve, practically shaking him out of his mindless daze. “Hey, Munson. Listen don’t get too in your head about this, alright? You just gotta be cool, babes dig cool.” A chuckle slipped through his lips, babes dig cool . “I’m gonna give you some tips for the road. Number one: The yawn and stretch, classic move, 99% effective. Number two-“.

“You know Harrington, I think this is some really solid advice and I really want to make sure I get this down. Maybe you could write it out for me?”. Completely oblivious to his sarcasm, Steve nodded and happily headed to the kitchen to grab a paper and a pen. The second he left the room, Eddie locked the door, hovering over to his drawers and pulling out a handkerchief to shove in his back pocket. Less than a minute later he heard the door handle jiggle, Robin sighing at his immaturity. “Sorry Stevie, the door must be jammed.”

“You know he’s gonna figure it out eventually.” He looked back at Robin, the door handle jiggling before it went silent. He’d clearly given up. “You don’t have to be a jerk, you know he’s just trying to help you”. Eddie laughed, he knew what he was trying to do he just didn’t have the mental capacity for that right now. Not when he had to pick which cologne would be best at masking the smell of cigarettes, booze and weed.

“Hey, I took your help, didn’t I? See? Total stud.” He spun around, his hands stretched out as he showed off his outfit. “I somehow feel like Steve and I have different approaches to flirting”. He picked up a cologne bottle that had a little left in the bottom and sniffed at the nozzle before spritzing himself with it. Suddenly they heard a loud tumble, and they noticed Steve dusting himself off by the open window.

“Not cool, man.” He muttered, running his hand through his hair. Eddie glanced down at his watch, as he started to panic. He should probably leave soon so he would have time to buy your tickets.

“Right, everyone out. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” Both his friends groaned, as Eddie pushed them out of the trailer and towards Steve’s beemer. “And no telling Henderson about this, alright? That little brat already knows way too much about my personal life”. They both begrudgingly agreed as he saluted them goodbye and jumped into his van.

The drive was nerve-wracking, to say the least, but the deafening sound of Iron Maiden was just enough to drown out his intrusive thoughts. But not by that much. He pulled up to the building and his eyes adjusted to the brightness, it was a crisp dark night and the golden bulbs of the Hawk Theatre sign shone beams that reflected onto the street. In big letters, it read “CARRIE: 10TH ANNIVERSARY”. He smirked to himself, Eddie was a big horror fan and Stephen King was a horror icon. If this was a date, it was the perfect setting. After buying your tickets at the booth, he pulled out a cigarette from the pocket of his leather jacket and took a couple of drags. It calmed his nerves until he looked down at the time anxiously, quickly stomping out his cigarette on the ground. Almost a second later he felt a pair of hands over his eyes, he froze in his spot for a moment.

“Guess who?”. He chuckled, hearing the familiar sound of your voice, letting out a deep breath before smirking to himself.

“Sigourney Weaver?”. You scoffed, slightly offended.

“Younger”.

Without missing a beat.

“Molly Ringwald?”. You paused and slowly removed your hands, raising your eyebrows at him in suspicion. He finally turned to look back and struggled to catch his breath, drinking in the sight of you.

“And how do you know who Molly Ringwald is?”. His shoulders shrugged as he failed to contain the huge smirk on his face, watching how cute yours looked when it was all scrunched up.

“What, a guy can’t like Evil Dead and Sixteen Candles?”. He teased as a devious grin crept upon your face, and then he realised his mistake. “I should have just said The Breakfast Club, huh?”.

“Eddie Munson, a secret lover of romcoms, who would have guessed?”. Your smile was bright and wide and he was memorised by the way his name sounded on your lips.

“Hey sweetheart, tease all you like. Just don’t forget who has the tickets.” He grinned, holding them out and waving them in front of your face. You immediately went to grab them as he pulled them away and shook his head at you, your second attempt was just as unsuccessful as he held them above his head so you couldn’t reach them.

“This was way easier when we were the same height.” You crossed your arms over your chest, as he chuckled at your pouting and playfully shoved you. It was hard to stay mad at him when he had that sweet look on his face, even with the new hair and clothes he still exuded a warmth that always made you feel safe.

“All yours, cross my heart”. He used his pointer finger to draw a cross against his heart, before holding out your ticket for you to take. You sighed and smiled, taking the ticket from him.

He nodded and bowed, extending his arm so you could take the first steps through the doors. A giggle escaped your lips as you curtsied and made your way into the theatre. Hawk was one of the more intimate theatres you’d been to but it had been here since before you left. Moving away from small town life wasn’t the worst thing, but there was something about Hawkins that was comforting. It was one of those small, humdrum towns that were cut off from the rest. Independent businesses, family-owned or even just ones that you’ve always known to be there. This theatre was one of them. You both stood in line at the concession stand waiting patiently to get the giant bucket of popcorn they did, for traditional purposes of course.

“Jesus, this hasn’t changed at all. It’s exactly how I remember from when we were kids”. Eddie watched as you glanced around the room and he looked over at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes. “Did you know the last time we came here was when this movie first came out? Man, I still remember how scared I was, I couldn’t sleep for like a week”. The long-haired boy chuckled, thinking back to when you would beg him to sleep on your floor to keep you safe. And how that lasted half an hour, when he became very aware of the undiscovered darkness underneath your bed. The nights would end with you both sharing your twin-sized mattress until you were sure the nightmares were over. And maybe for a little while after that.

“Oh, how could I forget? That was the first movie I ever snuck into. At least I’ve found the root of my rebellious streak, imagine what a good church boy I could have been if I hadn’t met the likes of you.” He joked, making you gasp in shock at his accusation. He was so dramatic. You missed that.

The line had died down as you teased each other, Eddie not noticing you were next up.

“Seven years and this what I get? Just for that you’re paying for my popcorn”. Before he could argue, you grabbed the bucket and walked towards your screen as he awkwardly pulled out his wallet and silently nodded at the cashier. He noticed you chuckling at him as he shook his head with a smile and followed you inside to where you were sitting.

You settled into your seats, happily munching on the popcorn as you offered him some before he huffed with a small smirk. “Offering me some of the popcorn I paid for? How thoughtful.” You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue at him as he did the same and you struggled to keep your wide grin at bay. He was cute. Very cute and it was annoying.

It didn’t take long for the movie to start, and as the lights dimmed Eddie began to feel a little nervous. It wasn’t lost on him that the main reason teenagers came to see horror movies was so they could get their dates scared, coaxing them to jump in their laps. Or some just used it as an excuse to make out in the dark. But not you two. You both loved this movie, but Eddie could hardly focus on the view in front of him when he was enjoying the view next to him way more. The flickering lights shone against your face and your bright, wide, eyes were entranced. There was a minor jump scare as everyone yelled and your hand found his.

He froze.

You didn’t even react, you remained attached to him and would even squeeze his knuckles when you got a little frightened. He was emotionless, staring at your hand in his and praying that his palms weren’t as sweaty as they felt. Just as he thought everything was going so well. Ouch. He felt a piece of candy hit the back of his head, as he snapped his neck to check behind him and noticed the faces of the two people he wished to be anywhere else but here.

“Yawn and stretch!”. Steve shout-whispered, Eddie’s eyes growing wide in anger. He was lucky that you were too into the movie to hear him. Robin chuckled at her idiotic best friend, shaking her head at his attempts at blending in.

“God, way to be subtle, Steve.” She kicked his foot with her own as he let out another loud yelp, she was tired of this. “Move your clown feet dingus, I need to pee”. He groaned and moved in his legs, her eyes still looking back at him in disappointment as she made her way down the stairs. As she turned her head, she missed a step and started tumbling down the stairs and landing face upright by your and Eddie’s feet.

She had never seen Eddie this mad before. She was positive that if you weren’t sitting right next to him he would probably murder her. Her fingers tinkled awkwardly, as your eyes glanced down at the short-haired girl. “Holy shit! are you okay?”. Your hand immediately reached out to help her up as she took it and rose to her feet, very aware of her friend’s eyes bore into her soul.

“Peachy. Sorry to interrupt, enjoy your d-d-dirty the floor is so dirty, they should clean this way more. Floor maintenance is super…important. Bye”. She zoomed down the remaining stairs towards the bathroom, stumbling slightly on another step but catching herself as Eddie held his head in his hands. She waved slightly before walking through the double doors towards the ladies’ room. You chuckled at her awkwardness and then paused for a moment, cocking your eyebrows.

“Wait, don’t you work with her at the video store?”. He sighed glancing back at Steve and shaking his head at you with a tight-lipped smile.

“Nope. Never seen her before in my life.” He stood up abruptly, as your eyes slowly travelled up to him, noticing the hand he was offering out for you. “I’ve got Carrie at my place, and it’s a whole lot quieter”. A few people started to yell as he partially blocked the screen but he zoned them out, wiggling his fingers at you. With a wide grin, you grabbed a hold of his hand as he led you out to the parking lot.

It had been many long years since you'd seen Eddie before coming back to Hawkins; it had been just as long since you'd seen that ramshackle trailer park too. When you were around twelve years old, your dad decided to sign up for the Army. Your family had been broke and struggling, and it seemed like the best way to get out of Hawkins and move out into a proper house. And sure, it was nice at first. Army bases offered decent housing and things to do and other kids to meet, and the money wasn't terrible. But about the same time you moved to get a fresh start, your parents started having…. issues. Dad was never home to see you and Mom was worried sick about him never being around. It didn't take long for things to unravel, and soon the two of you left it all behind.

Fast forward a few years and you'd moved away again, she'd found a new man and remarried and the dust finally started to settle. Until one day your stepdad came home. He was just offered a new job at a fancy insurance company, and where was it? In goddamn Hawkins, Indiana. Everything about it felt surreal. Small towns never really grew into something new, but Eddie Munson certainly did. You just wished you'd been around to see it. When you stepped out of his van and onto familiar soil, you were in a mindless daze. It was like you never left.

“Must feel pretty creepy, huh? Being back where it all started”. His hand patted the top of his van, as his glance circled the trailer park. Still too stunned to form a sentence you just nodded your head, watching him push open the door to his trailer. The next thing that came into view was an eye sore, Wayne’s trucker obsession never seemed to fade and now there was a decade worth of memorabilia added to the living room walls.

“Ed? You didn’t tell me you brought company, would have spruced up in here”. Eddie chuckled, he didn’t recognise you either. It took everything in you not to bring Wayne into a bone-crushing hug, so you patiently waited for his nephew to enlighten him.

“Forget sprucing, we should have been rolling out the red for this one. Don’t remember our old neighbour, Uncle Wayne?”. It took a second until he glanced over you and his eyes widened, your smile grew even bigger as you jumped into his arms and held him tight.

“Darlin! Wow, haven’t you gotten big? I still remember when you were a ‘lil tike running around in your diapers with Eddie.” You held back an embarrassed blush, leaning away from him and struggling to wipe the grin from your face. He was always so good to you, kraft dinners and crappy reality television were how you’d spent the better part of your childhood. And you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“God, Wayne I missed you so much. It’s so great to see you!”. He nodded and smirked, his eyes flickered between you and Eddie for a minute as if he was trying to figure something out. “How were the new neighbours? Can’t imagine they were as pleasant as me”. You teased, Eddie suddenly becoming enraged.

“You’re telling me, they have fucking sticks up their butts! They’re always on my ass about playing my music, it’s infuriating”. Eddie whined, crossing his arms as he lent against the kitchen counter.

“Well son, you do play it awfully loud…”. Wayne quipped, causing his nephew to look back at him shocked by those big brown eyes.

“That’s beside the point, it’s the principle”. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, had he always been this much of a drama queen? With a small chuckle, Wayne sighed and shook his head.

“Hell am I glad you’re back, at least now it ain’t just me who’s having to deal with him”. He clasped a hand on Eddie’s head and shook it slightly with a grin, you giggled at his teasing watching the act of affection ease him. “Alright kids, I’ll be down the street having a couple with the guys, give you time to catch up. Take care of yourself, ya hear? Don’t be a stranger”. He half hugged your side and you pecked his cheek with a soft ‘you too’ before he winked at you both and headed out.

It was silent and the air felt thick all of a sudden. “Well I didn’t plan on the company, so my room looks like a bomb hit but I have some horror flicks on tape and…oh, do you…do you smoke?”. You could sense the fear in his eyes, smoking is a deal breaker for a lot of people and he prayed it wasn’t for you.

“Marijuana?”. He just nodded silently, holding his breath. “Why, you got some stashed somewhere?”. A laugh escaped him, if you only knew. You followed behind into his bedroom and realised that he wasn’t kidding, it had looked like a tornado had flown through. Guitar picks, cigarette butts and empty beer cans littered the floor. And oh that smell . He pulled out a bottle of fabric refresher and sprayed the room, you coughed at the sudden stench of chemicals and opened his window a crack.

“Right, I’m going in the kitchen to cook us mac ‘n’ cheese.” You wandered into the kitchen and pulled trash bags from underneath the sink. “And you’re gonna throw out your trash, I don’t care how pretty you are, I am not sitting in your filth”. He took the bag and rolled his eyes with a sigh, then he turned back to face you with a wide smirk.

“You think I’m pretty?”. Yeah, pretty insufferable. With a single sharp look in your eyes, he dropped his smile and gulped. He puffed out the bag and stood up straight, saluting you before he started tossing empty bottles inside. This was going to be a long night.

After the room was mostly clean and you had both devoured your pasta, Eddie rolled the biggest joint you’d ever seen. It had been a while since you’d smoked, so when it hit the back of your throat you let out a cough that had him in stitches. You shoved him playfully before you began to ease into it, he finished up and pressed out the lit end with a sizzle. He crawled up the bed and lent over the edge, struggling to push the VHS inside the player. You were a second away from helping him as it ate the tape and he let it play with a proud smile.

You couldn’t speak for him but the first time you saw this movie was the last time you saw it. Those nightmares were really something and though you’d grown into a huge horror movie fan over the years, everyone had those movies that scarred them as a kid. A part of you hoped Eddie had grown out of the fear and would be able to make you feel a little safer. He didn’t seem to be super phased when you were just watching it at the movies.

In the scene that played out, Carrie is in the locker room with her female classmates and she starts her period, she then screams in horror at the blood. Eddie shifts in his seat looking visually uncomfortable, his glance turns to the screen and then slowly back at you as Carrie bursts a light bulb in the shower. You can tell something is playing on his mind, as you lay your head back on the pillow.

“Out with it, Munson”. He seemed shocked that you could sense his eyes on you, even after all this time he was still so predictable. You could see the clogs turning inside his head, trying to figure out the best way to phrase whatever question he had to share.

“Is that actually how it…happens? You know when you…” You almost snorted at the question, he couldn’t even say the word. He tiptoed around it like it was taboo. A chuckle slipped through your lips as you decided to have some fun, veering around to face him.

“Yeah, I can totally burst light bulbs with my mind”. You were being sarcastic, but you could still sense that a part of him believed it. You just rolled your eyes and hit your head against the pillow as there was a sudden burst of lightning and Eddie just about shrieked. The power went out for a second, and the emergency generator must have started up. Suddenly the lights switched back on and revealed a terrified Eddie clutching to your chest like a scared little boy. It was impossible to hold back the laughter that you felt as you held your stomach.

“So not funny!.” He seemed a little mad but you didn't care, you were never gonna let him live this down. Wayne wandered through the door, guess neither of you heard him come back in. Eddie quickly separated himself from you despite really needing to be held right now.

“You alright darlin’? I heard you scream?”. There was nothing to stop the tears falling from your eyes as you laughed yourself into a fit. Eddie was pissed, reassuring Wayne you were both fine as he awkwardly nodded back and closed the door. Your laughing didn’t subside as he growled under his breath and shook his head.

“Alright, that’s it”. He muttered, turning to lay on top of you, reaching fingers out to tickle you. The once melodic laughter melted into playful fear as you screamed and told him to stop, using your free limbs to kick at him. He knew how much you had hated being tickled since you were young and nothing had changed. The more you squirmed, the more he chuckled to himself, watching the tears of laughter falling from your eyes.

“Eddie, you bastard! Truce, TRUCE!”. He sighed and slowly moved his hands from your stomach, watching you relax against the bed in a state of exhaustion. The movie continued playing but it was hard to pay attention since he was still on top of you. It felt stuffy all of a sudden. The air became thicker as you stared at each other for a bit too long and struggled to think of what you could say to break the tension.

“We should probably finish the movie”. His voice was small and anxious in a way that felt different to his usual demeanour. He had always been confident from a young age, eccentric and theatrical. When you would play Dungeon and Dragons, he was always the most skilled Dungeon Master.

You were young and it was the 70s. It took a lot of allowances to save up for the boards and books, but you all worked together to make it happen. The party consisted of Jeff, Grant, you and Eddie and you were the strongest party Hawkins had ever seen. You remembered your Dad having to physically drag you from Eddie’s trailer when you both stayed up late brainstorming ideas for campaigns. He was always confident and open, especially with you.

Then it started to dawn on you, you couldn’t pretend like the past seven or eight years hadn’t changed something in him or your relationship with each other. You were both adults, he was the same Eddie deep down but there was so much growing he had done that you weren’t around for (and vice versa). He had sat up and moved a few inches away from you and you started to wonder if he was seriously upset about your teasing.

“Eddie?”. You called, staring up at the ceiling blankly as his head turned to face you. “I missed a lot when I was gone didn’t I?”. The room had become clearer than it was when you first stepped in and you wondered if it was your new epiphany or the weed.

“Yeah. Yeah, you did.” He sounded sad about it, and you immediately felt a prang of guilt and sorrow in your chest. Why did you have to leave? Why couldn’t you have kept your best friend and grown up with him the way you’d always talked about?

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? I mean shit, I thought I’d never see you again. I mean…I’m so different now, what if...do you still wanna be around me? I don’t want you to feel like you needed to reach out because we were friends before…” You sat up and stared back at him, he was insecure. Eddie Munson. He felt like he wasn’t someone you would want as your best friend anymore.

“You’re a fucking idiot”. You blurted, his eyes widened at your response as he held back a gasp. He blinked at you a few times before you chuckled and shook your head. “Eddie. The second I got back here, I looked everywhere for you. Do you not remember how shattered I was when I had to leave? Dude, I was a fucking wreck for like a month afterwards. You were my best friend! I knew you before I knew how to shit by myself!”. This earned you a hearty laugh as he shoved you and held his hand over his face with a huge smirk.

“I’m serious, Eds. I don’t want this break to change anything, we have forever to learn all the new weird quirks we picked up from when we were apart. I just can’t handle…I just don’t wanna lose you like last time. And who’s to say it won’t be the other way around?”. He smiled weakly, his eyes sparkling as he stared back at you.

“Impossible, sweetheart.” You grinned back at him, both your smiles growing as you realised how lucky you were to have found each again.

“Sweetheart”. You repeated, looking down at your jeans as you picked at the loose threads. “Have you always been such a flirt?”. He seemingly enjoyed the teasing, grinning wider now.

“Hmm. Must be one of my new quirks”. His smirk was smug, it felt more like Eddie. And this felt like a step in the right direction.

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