#BUT THEN THIS FUCKING TRAILER DROPPED AND I HAD TO DRAW

[flingza-roller]

im very normal about that trailer

[radiosteve]

Casual

Summary: When did being friends with benefits with Steve Harrington get so complicated? Probably when your "no strings attached" relationship suddenly had strings.

Note: Loosely based on the song Casual by Chappell Roan. I slowly wrote this over the past month or so which is why it took so long. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, No use of y/n, language, friends with benefits to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), angst, jealousy.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 11.3k+

Knee deep in the passenger seat

The buzz of the evening air filled the car, prickling your skin with each passing second. Or maybe that was the A/C that Steve had on full blast, cooling the cramped car to an uncomfortable degree. Without a second thought, you reached forward, fingers finding the dial that would alleviate the shivers raking your body. But Steve’s hand shot out, swatting away your futile attempts to not freeze to death in the passenger seat.

“What the hell, Steve?” you shot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest and unknowingly pushing up your breasts in the process, drawing Steve’s not-so-subtle gaze. In all honesty, Steve was cold too. Sure, it was summer in Hawkins and the sweltering heat and humidity bogged down the heavy air, but his car was a cool 66°F. 

“I’m sweating over here, sweetheart,” Steve shrugged, placing his hand back on the steering wheel. He was lying of course, but he couldn’t tell you that he wanted the A/C on so he could continue to catch glimpses of your pebbled nipples poking against the thin fabric of your tank top. He especially couldn’t say that because Eddie and Robin were in the backseat, a fact he had entirely forgotten until their muffled conversation rose dramatically in volume.

“And then they found that old guy’s fucking bones,” Eddie practically shouted with excitement, and your brow furrowed. Robin echoed Eddie’s statement, sharing the same elation regarding their conversation topic, which only confused you more. You turned in your seat, curious to know what the hell you had missed between them during your battle with Steve and the air conditioner. But then the car jerked to the left entering Forest Hills trailer park, and you knew you’d never find out.

The car halted in front of Eddie’s trailer, causing your body to jerk forward at the sudden stop. You let out a groan in response and were met with Steve’s cruel cackle. Meanwhile, Eddie tumbled out of the backseat into his front lawn and Robin followed suit on the other side.

“Wait, Rob,” you called, quickly rolling your window down so she could actually hear you. “I thought we were dropping you off?”

“Change of plans. I promised Max that we’d go through her comic collection so I’m just gonna crash at her place tonight,” Robin pointed over her shoulder and you spotted the mess of fiery red hair watching from the window. You nodded and exchanged a quick goodbye as Robin strolled over to Max’s front door. You watched her retreating figure, but it was soon blocked by Eddie ripping the passenger door open and hastily grabbing your cheek before placing a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Dude,” you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, trying to rid yourself of any trace of Eddie’s saliva. Eddie’s eyes flickered over your shoulder to land on Steve. He watched the fire ignite in Steve’s eyes, the flames encasing his pupils at the stretch of Eddie’s smirk.

“C’mon, princess. You know you want me,” Eddie winked at you and you pushed him away from the car with a laugh. He stumbled back a few steps, regaining his balance as you pulled the car door shut. 

“In your dreams, Munson,” you shot him a smile as Steve began driving off, leaving Eddie to watch as the car pulled away. He stood content, knowing he’d accomplished his mission to rile Steve up. You rolled up the window and turned to Steve, expecting his expression to reflect the amusement you felt as a result of Eddie’s antics. 

But Steve, ever so unpredictable, had never been one to conform to your expectations before. His face appeared hardened, like it was set in stone as his white knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly. He kept his gaze on the road as if he was incapable of looking elsewhere, particularly at you.

The silence grew heavy within the car, only elevating the tension that blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. Steve was driving too fast and you wanted to tell him to slow down but he spoke before you could.

“You like it when Munson kisses you?” his tone was harsh and cold like you were his worst enemy rather than his friend of many years. But you’d known Steve long enough to understand where this was coming from. He was jealous, though he’d never ever admit it, not to himself and most certainly not to you. Despite his insistence to keep things casual between you and him, he was quite good at blurring the line.

“Steve, I’d hardly call that a kiss,” you scoffed, already knowing that this was an argument in the making. Steve was silent, knots forming in his tensed shoulders as he continued driving. “And what does it matter? You made out with Stacy Townsend last week. It's not like we're dating, Steve,” you huffed and the car quickly turned off the main road into a shaded grove, away from any prying eyes. 

Steve practically threw the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt so quickly you could’ve gotten whiplash. He exited the car, rounding the back and appearing at your door before you could even turn in your seat to track his motion. Steve tore the door open, leaning down and reaching between your legs. Your breath stopped at the feeling of his arm brushing against your thighs, but you quickly realized he was simply adjusting the seat to push it all the way back.

“What are you-” you began but quickly stopped as Steve occupied the space in front of you. His knees rested on the carpeted floor of his car as his back brushed against the glove box. There was enough room for him to comfortably rest between your open legs as he swung the door shut, trapping you in the confines of his presence.

“Is he a good kisser?” Steve asked, the traces of jealousy still ever so present in his tone, but there was something else too. Something deeper and more lustful that almost helped to outweigh the annoyance you felt in the moments prior. You knew to play along, follow Steve’s prompts, and adapt to the scenario.

“He’s pretty good, Stevie. Might want to kiss him again,” you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and you watched Steve’s gaze trace over you. He once again found the outline of your peaked nipples, teasing him in the car’s cool atmosphere. Steve couldn’t help himself, letting his fingers trail up your chest, tracing over your nipples once he finally reached them.

“Is he better than me?” Steve asked, relishing in the soft sign that escaped you at the brush of his fingers over your clothed skin. He knew your body like the back of his hand at this point, giving him some control over you.

“He might be,” you refused to give in, knowing Steve would give you what you want regardless. But Steve understood you in the same way that you did him, and he expected that you’d play hard to get, which only made it more fun for him. One of his hands dropped, reaching for the hem of your tank top and pulling it up above your breasts, leaving them on display for him. 

Steve resumed his teasing to your left nipple, gently circling it with his thumb. He leaned in slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours as his lips met your breast, placing slow open-mouthed kisses on your soft flesh. After leaving a few marks he brought his mouth to your nipple, gently pecking it with his soft lips before placing a bruising kiss on it in a way that made you gasp in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned as Steve’s teeth grazed your sensitive skin. His eyes never left yours, drinking in the sight of you slowly unraveling at the feel of his lips. Steve trailed his kisses lower, expanding over your torso and down to the waistband of your skirt.

His hands caressed your thighs, parting them even wider than before while he hiked your skirt up your hips. The lace of your panties now sat exposed to Steve as his hungry eyes roamed over the fabric.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Steve spoke with a smirk, his breath fanning over your lap, warming your cunt in a way that made you squirm. “Just leave that for Munson since he’s such a better kisser,” confidence and cockiness dripped from Steve’s voice like honey. He moved to pull your skirt back down, anticipating your pleas to continue. Luckily for him, you conceded.

“No, Steve. Please,” you begged, hand shooting out to stop him. And that was all he needed before he was pulling your panties from your legs and tossing them somewhere in the backseat. You were sure you’d never see them again. Steve placed a gentle kiss on your clit before licking your entrance to make you squirm. As if it were pure instinct, your hand shot out, gripping the soft locks of Steve’s hair.

That motivated him to really dive in, being more purposeful in the swipe of his tongue through your folds. Steve relished in the sound of your moans, the way your hips slid against the seat to meet his mouth, and how you threw your head back when his nose nudged your clit. Quite frankly, Steve had never been a big fan of eating girls out until he started hooking up with you. There was something about the way you reacted to the flick of his tongue that ended in him cumming in his pants on more than one occasion.

“So close, Stevie,” the breathy tone of your voice encouraged Steve further as he abandoned your entrance. His lips attached firmly to your clit, letting his teeth graze your sensitive bud as he sucked on it. Your chest was heaving at that point, tits jiggling with each heaving breath, and the sight had Steve palming himself through his jean shorts. And suddenly it was all too much for you as Steve’s tongue flicked wildly over your clit. 

Your thighs shook around Steve’s head while your fingers dug deep into his scalp and you came undone. Steve lapped at your entrance, licking up every last bit of your slick before finally pulling back with a labored breath. He leaned up on his knees, admiring how fucked out you looked. It was his favorite way to see you. Steve placed a fervent kiss on your lips, encapsulating all of the passion that flowed through you both at that moment.

“So who’s the better kisser now?” Steve whispered against your lips as a smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. You scoffed, pushing him gently away from you and pulling your skirt back down. It was impossible to keep the smile from your lips though, especially when Steve got up from the footwell of the car and you saw the wet spot on the crotch of his shorts. 

He got back in the driver’s seat and brought the car back to life. This time you welcomed the harsh blast of the A/C given the sticky heat between your legs and the warm air that now filled the fogged-up car. Steve drove you home, stopping in front of your driveway to let you out. He placed a quick peck on your lips before letting you out, leaving you to walk back to your front door. You stopped just before the entrance, turning to get one last look at the maroon BMW before disappearing into your house. The taste of yourself and Steve’s arrogance still lingered on the tip of your tongue as you watched him drive off into the dark summer night.

You said “Baby, no attachment”

“Jesus, this place is packed,” Eddie spoke beside you, his grip tight on his black lunch box. He’d dragged you to some house party so he could have company while he dealt. But you’d tagged along with Eddie to one too many parties to know that he’d soon disappear behind a wall of letterman jackets that he’d overcharged for weed simply because he could. You only agreed to go because of the promise of free booze.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you shouted over the blaring music that ricocheted off the walls in the crowded living room. Eddie nodded, already being pulled away by someone looking to buy from him. You struggled your way through the sea of people to the closed-off kitchen, settling on whatever liquor you deemed the strongest. It was then that you saw him. Steve’s perfectly styled hair framed his face as he leaned down to whisper something into the ear of some very tipsy blonde across the room. 

“Figures,” you scoffed under your breath, tilting your cup to your lips and ingesting its bitter contents. Steve hadn’t told you he was coming to the party, likely because he was determined to find a one-night stand or come crawling to you if he struck out. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You refilled your now empty cup before departing the kitchen and shimming your way onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room. A slight buzz already consumed you, diminishing any worried thoughts, particularly about a certain brown-haired boy.

Someone in a letterman jacket approached you, matching your movements with a shy smile. His name was Marcus, one of the nicer basketball players from your graduating class. Letting the alcohol control you, you threw your arms over his shoulders, careful not to spill your drink. You pulled him close, pressing yourself flush against him and moving to the beat of the music. Marcus was cute, flushed red as his hands snaked around to land on your hips.

As you got lost in the ocean blue of Marcus’s eyes, you remained oblivious to the sudden drawl of Steve’s attention as he stumbled into the room. Steve’s stare lingered over your figure, the press of your breasts against Marcus’s chest, the trail of his fingers as they inched towards the hem of your skirt. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from you, brushing off whatever girl he’d been trying to bed and stalking in your direction.

Marcus’s lips hovered over yours, tempting you with each passing breath. Finally, sick of the teasing, you used your free hand to pull his neck down, effectively closing the gap. He tasted like bubblegum and Coca-Cola, and it became clear to you then that he hadn’t been drinking. You weren’t some drunken conquest to him, just a girl he wanted to dance with.

You pulled back at the revelation, feeling a little guilty for assuming all the boy in front of you wanted was a drunken hookup. But you didn’t have much time to think about it because Steve came barreling over from across the room.

“Marcus,” he spoke simply, eyeing the boy up and down. They had been teammates at one point, but now in Steve’s mind, they were mortal enemies. He wasn’t sure why he felt so jealous considering he’s the one who insisted on being friends with benefits and nothing more. But there was no time to dwell on that.

“Hi, Steve. How have you been?” Marcus asked genuinely, seemingly unaware of the growing tension between the three of you. You stood like a deer in headlights, watching and waiting for the tornado to touch down, the hurricane to make landfall, Steve to do something stupid.

“I’m doing great. Mind if I borrow her?” Steve brushed off Marcus’s attempts at friendly conversation, gesturing to you and grabbing ahold of your arm to drag you away before Marcus could even answer. It wasn’t exactly the stupid gesture you thought it would be, more like fists thrown and punches landed, but it still annoyed you just as much.

“What the hell are you doing?” you finally wiggled out of Steve’s grasp as he took you out the front door. You set down the cup that had previously occupied your hand before whipping around angrily to meet Steve’s gaze.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, staring you down as if he were a parent scolding his disobedient child. 

“It’s a party, Steve. I’m partying,” you rolled your eyes, your voice deadpan as the heat of your rage mixed with the hot summer air. Steve scoffed, moving across the front porch to stand in front of you.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart. What were you doing with Marcus?” Steve’s breath fanned your face, doing nothing to help cool you in your overheated state.

“Whatever I want. You and I aren’t dating, remember?” you gestured between the two of you. Suddenly you felt like you’d been backed into a corner. Steve’s body inched closer to yours, encompassing you against the house’s siding, trapping you with nowhere to go. Partygoers came and went as they pleased, not sparing a passing glance your way as Steve cornered you. For a moment you let yourself get pulled into his allure, succumbing to his overwhelmingly dominant charm.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have me all to yourself? Then you wouldn’t have to hook up with other guys to try and make me jealous,” Steve’s lips ghosted over yours in the way that always left you whining for more. But something stopped you.

“Wait,” you put your hands on his chest, pushing him back to give you space. “You think I kissed Marcus to make you jealous?” you asked a very confused Steve as you deliberately ignored the fact that he had admitted to being jealous. Steve’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what he said wrong.

“Yeah, why else would you have kissed him?” Steve countered, pulling back from you naturally, allowing more space to blossom between you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you stated, anger boiling up beneath the surface and scorching your skin. “Not everything is about you, dickhead,” you pushed past him, heading back towards the front door, desperately in need of another drink after this. But Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm for a second time that evening. His grip was softer this time, free of the possessive fury that drove him earlier.

“That was shitty. I’m sorry,” he rushed out, dropping the overconfident demeanor. In the complicated web of your relationship, it was often difficult to remember what you truly were: friends. And now, before you, stood a friend who genuinely felt bad for making everything about him. 

“That was really shitty,” you spoke fiercely, still unmoved with Steve’s grip on your arm. “Apology accepted,” you caved, and Steve dropped his hand, ignoring the sudden cold that filled his palm in the absence of his skin on yours.

“Can we just forget about this and go back inside?” Steve asked and you responded with a nod, already halfway to the door. The party was even more crowded than before, making it far more difficult to find Marcus. “Shit,” Steve muttered beside you, pulling your gaze in the same direction as his.

Across the living room on the makeshift dance floor was the blonde girl Steve had been chatting up earlier. A wicked grin spread across your lips as you watched her sloppily suck face with some dude who was sure to be holding back her hair later while she spilled her guts into a toilet. You stifled a laugh, pulling Steve’s attention away from the blonde and back to you.

“See what happens when you meddle in my love life,” you patted him on the shoulder, his frown only making it harder to contain your laughter.

“Yeah, well I don’t see Marcus anywhere. Maybe he’s got some girl holed up in a room somewhere,” he pointed over his shoulder to the hallway of locked bedroom doors. He wanted to make you feel how he felt at that moment like he was the last kid picked for the kickball team. Undesired. Not that it could possibly be true though, because there was always one person who would always want you, even though he’d never admit it.

“Whatever, I’m getting another drink,” you brushed him off, already making your way through the packed room to burst through the kitchen door. You entered the kitchen, unexpectedly bumping into a solid chest clad in orange, white, and green. Marcus.

“Hey, where’d you and Harrington run off to earlier?” he asked, fingers brushing your arms as he steadied you.

“Sorry about that. Steve was having some girl trouble and needed advice,” you lied, though somehow not entirely. Marcus gave you a soft smile with a nod of understanding. “Do you maybe want to get out of here?” you asked, hoping you didn’t scare off the shy, sweet boy before you. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he smiled and you couldn’t help but beam back up at him. You led him back through the throngs of people, passed Eddie who gave you a thumbs up at the sight of Marcus’s hand wrapped around yours, and out the front door.

On the porch steps sat a very deflated Steve, smoking what you were sure wasn’t a cigarette. You told Marcus you’d meet him by his car before sitting down next to Steve.

“Rough night?” you asked as if it was your first time seeing him that evening. He played along with your game though, something he always did.

“You could say that. Think a girl is gonna go home with you and then she’s mackin’ on some other dude,” he blew smoke from his lips, the skunky scent filling the air around you. “Still got you though. What do you say? I can take you back to mine and rock your world, sweetheart,” he wagged his eyebrows at you, his goofy nature peeking through.

It always surprised you how drastically different he could be with you. One minute he’d have you pinned against a wall with his tongue down your throat and the next he’d crack a joke and flub the punchline. The duality of man it seems, or maybe just Steve.

“Sorry, Stevie. I’ve already got a ride,” you pointed towards Marcus who stood leaning up against his car, awaiting your arrival back to his open arms. “See you tomorrow?” you stood, patting him on the knee, and began your trek across the lawn. Steve mumbled out a response, watching as you approached Marcus. 

Upon your arrival, Marcus took you in his arms, placed a soft kiss on your lips, and opened the passenger door for you. Steve watched as you waved to him through the car window, taking another drag from the joint between his fingertips. He wasn’t sure when he started feeling so empty, so complicated when he thought he was devoid of love. But he knew as the taillights disappeared into the dark summer night, that something sparked within him. The lack of strings involved in no strings attached had suddenly appeared and become tangled together.

Dream of us in a year

The cardboard box weighed heavy in your hands as you exited the elevator. Sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floors as you traveled down the hall, stopping in front of a door labeled 217. Your hands fumbled with the handle, struggling to keep the box from falling as you tried to open the door. 

It swung open, revealing a floppy-haired Steve with his sleeves rolled up behind it. He was a year older now, stubble shadowing his upper lip while shallow wrinkles had already started to line his forehead. He grabbed the box from your hands and moved inside, setting it down in the apartment’s living room. You took a moment to look around, taking in the freshly painted walls and soft carpeted floors.

“Can you believe we’ve got this whole place to ourselves?” Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, breathing in the scent of your perfume. Lavender and vanilla.

“You say that as if Eddie, Robin, and the kids won’t constantly be in and out of here,” you spoke, spinning around to face Steve. Steve shrugged, a smirk cresting his lips.

“Not if we don’t give them a key,” Steve asserted, evoking a laugh from you, throwing your head back as the sound spilled from your lips. As if they’d let you and Steve have your own apartment without giving them easy access to it too. Steve took advantage of your thrown-back head and placed his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up the column of your throat.

“Steve,” you groaned, stuck between wanting him to continue and needing to keep moving your belongings into your new apartment. But Steve continued his attack on your neck, licking over the fresh bruises he painted across your skin.

“C’mon, baby. We’ll have to christen this place at some point. Why not now?” Steve spoke against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He pushed you back, your body softly colliding with the end of the kitchen counter.

“We’ve still got boxes to bring up,” you answered in heavy, panting breaths. Steve’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips traveling to yours in a bruising heat. He was weakening your resolve by the second.

“You really want to stop, then we’ll stop,” Steve stated, pulling back from your lips. He was calling your bluff, you knew that. But your lips missed his and you suddenly felt so cold without his body pressed to yours. So you caved.

“Fuck it, we’ll get ‘em later,” you pulled Steve back in, crashing your lips back together. Steve’s hand drifted from its place on your cheek, moving down your body. He stopped at your breast, giving it a squeeze, before moving down to your shorts.

In one fell swoop, Steve pulled your shorts and panties down your legs and replaced the cloth of your underwear with his fingertips. He brushed against your wet folds, coating his fingers in your juices. A whimper slipped from within you, Steve’s teasing only arousing you more.

He finally slipped a finger in and curled it. Your knees buckled, hands gripping the cool granite countertop to hold you steady.

“Shit, Steve. Feels so good,” he continued his motion, adding another finger. You could feel the tension building within you like a rubber band threatening to snap. You just got to the edge when…

You startled awake, abruptly sitting up and slamming the side of your head into something.

“Ah fuck, that hurt,” you said, rubbing the aching spot and leaning back into the couch.

“You’re telling me,” Steve said from beside you, also touching his head in pain. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and slammed your head into his when you snapped awake.

“Sorry, had a weird dream,” you apologized before directing your attention back to the movie you’d been watching before you fell asleep.

“Yeah? What was it about,” Steve prodded, trying to pull your focus back to him. He was clearly just as bored with whatever movie was playing as you had been.

“I, uh, don’t really remember,” you lied poorly, keeping your eyes off of Steve. It felt weird to face him after your dream. It made you feel guilty like your subconscious wanted your relationship with Steve to be more than what it was.

“Liar,” Steve concluded after studying your avoidant gaze. He inched closer, his body turned towards you in his spot on the couch. “You had a sex dream,” he accused and your head snapped in his direction. Your wide-eyed gaze only confirmed what Steve had already guessed. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed with a smile on his face.

“Nope. No. I didn’t have a sex dream,” you denied but Steve was already ignoring you, lost in a slew of his own thoughts.

“You had a sex dream while sleeping on my shoulder. Should I be flattered or offended? Well, I’d be flattered if it was about me. Was it about me?” Steve rambled, ignoring your protests. Once again, your avoidant eyes told Steve everything he needed to know.

“So what? We’ve had actual sex. What’s it matter if I dreamed about it?” you spoke defensively once you realized there was no point in hiding the truth. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t realized that your body now faced Steve.

“Nothing wrong with it, babe. Just wish you’d told me sooner. We could already be working on making your dream a reality,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, earning a chuckle in response. Steve leaned in, his body hovering over yours, lips just a breath away from touching.

“No thanks, Stevie,” you pushed him back playfully, knowing he’d be back on you in a second. Just as you expected he moved back in, closing any distance between you.

“Don’t dream it, be it,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Don't you dare quote Rocky Horror at me right now,” you scolded Steve with a smile, one that he reflected back at you.

“Let me kiss you then,” he spoke softly, tenderly, like it was his biggest desire. You melted, feeling some form of intimacy that rarely reared its head during your hookups with Steve. The walls between you fell down, allowing Steve’s lips to meet yours. 

It was soft, gentler than he’d ever kissed you before. As if a switch had been flipped within you both, the lust and desire that had been building for months finally reached its peak and spilled out from each of your lips.

Steve’s knee came up between your thighs, adding the friction you desperately needed after the combination of your dream and his kiss. You pulled apart for a second so you could take off your top and bra, your eyes refusing to leave Steve’s as you did. 

You laid flat on your back, extending an open invitation for Steve to swoop in. His gaze on you was hungry and lustful, but it was also something else, something different than it ever had been before. If you didn’t know any better you'd think the look in his eyes was love.

Steve followed suit, removing his own shirt and shimming out of his pants and boxers. He pulled your shorts and panties from your legs, staring open-mouthed at your exposed core. Your dream already had your folds coated in desire, begging to be lapped up by Steve’s skilled tongue. He wanted to taste you, to devour you in the way you both loved, but your hand stopped him.

“Stevie, need you now,” you whined breathily, Steve’s eyes catching yours once again. He nodded, moving up to hover over your body that lay flat against the couch. Your slick made it easy for him to slip in, earning whimpers from both of you as your walls sucked him in.

Steve watched your face for a moment, simply because he could, because he wanted to. He admired the scrunch of your brow, the slight gape of your lips, and the pleading look in your eye. It only enticed him more, finally encouraging him to move.

With a sharp breath, Steve pulled out a bit before pushing back in. It was slow and deep, a stark contrast to the usual fast and rough nature of your hookups with Steve. He was hitting places deep within you, pulling silent moans from your lips.

Your hands searched for something to hold, to guide you through the pleasure Steve’s thrusts were forging. One hand landed on his back, gripping tightly to his skin. The other fell flat against the couch, an open palm facing up by your shoulder. 

Steve, who had been so consumed with studying the way your face screwed up as he dragged his cock in and out of you, noticed the fall of your hand. He grabbed it quickly, interlocking his fingers with yours. Steve thrust harder then, though he maintained his steady pace. His eyes locked with yours once more, labored breaths dancing in the small space between his lips and yours. 

Steve ground down hard, your hips matching his rhythm as you both neared your highs. You suddenly felt shy. The press of Steve’s body to yours combined with the intensity of your locked eyes, making you glance elsewhere.

“Baby,” Steve’s breathy voice rang out, his free hand turning your face and bringing your gaze back to him. “Want you to look at me when you cum. Need to see it. Please, baby,” he begged, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering slightly, telling you that he was close.

You just nodded, leaning up a bit to kiss him. Steve savored the feel of your lips on his before you pulled back, meeting his gaze as requested. The pressure in the pit of your stomach became too much. Your hand squeezed Steve’s tightly as your face contorted in pleasure and your walls fluttered around him.

Steve watched as you hit your high, continuing his thrusts as your thighs shook and your moans of his name echoed throughout the room. He couldn’t hold on any longer, reaching his own peak with a low groan of your name. His eyes never left yours as he pumped his hot ropes of cum into you and watched you unwind. 

After you’d both calmed down, breaths evening out, and chests no longer heaving, Steve gently pulled out. He kept his body on yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Then he got up, retrieving a damp washcloth to clean you both up. 

The both of you redressed and resumed your previous spots on the couch, pretending to pay attention to the movie again. You tried to ignore the shift in the air, the warmth that filled your chest at the thought of what just happened. 

Steve did the same, his wandering eyes glazed over as he got lost in thought about the whole ordeal. Something occurred to him then, something too important to ignore. His past few hookups hadn’t made him feel anywhere close to how good he just felt with you, how good he always felt with you.

The other girls were always too loud or too demanding or too submissive, but were they really? Steve would get hung up on some flaw while with them, no matter how big or small, and effectively throw off the whole thing for himself. 

But as he sat there with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and some shitty movie playing on the screen in front of him, Steve realized that the other girls’ biggest flaw was always just that they weren’t you. And maybe Steve didn’t want no strings attached anymore. Maybe he just wanted you. And he had no clue how to tell you.

I’m still hanging around

Family Video hadn’t seen a customer for the past hour and forty-five minutes. The front counter had been wiped clean at least six times and all the tapes were put back into the system and reshelved, leaving Robin and Steve with absolutely nothing to do.

They’d resorted to taking turns trying to catch candy in their mouths when the bell sounded from above the front door. You strolled in with a furrowed brow as you watched Robin pick a stray skittle from her hair.

“Congrats on the big promotion, Steven,” you called out, approaching the counter with a wide smile. Steve’s new name tag with the words “Shift Lead” printed beneath his name shined in the store's harsh overhead lighting. Before Steve could thank you or comment on the use of his full name, Robin spoke up, effectively interrupting him.

“Thank god, someone to talk to other than this bozo,” Robin gestured to Steve who shot her a frown. “So tell me, how’d your date go last night?” she asked, leaning forward on her elbows and abandoning the half-empty pack of Skittles that sat on the counter.

Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of you going on another date with another guy, likely with some douchebag who didn’t deserve you. He took that as his cue to leave, wandering around the store to make himself look busy and avoid overhearing any talk of how soft this new guy’s lips were. Steve could still feel the pang of jealousy that lived in the pit of his stomach ever since you said that about some guy you went out with last week.

Despite his recent revelation, Steve had made no move to make his feelings known to you. He was caught in limbo between being seconds from spilling his guts to you at any given moment and refraining out of the fear of ruining your friendship. The more he heard of you going out with other guys, the more he doubted whether his feelings would be reciprocated.

“That bad?” Robin practically shouted in response to what you told her about your date, dragging Steve from his thoughts and drawing him into your conversation. He lingered near the movie shelves, just close enough to hear as you recounted the way your date more or less slobbered into your mouth when you made out.

“I had to chug half a bottle of mouthwash to feel like I wasn’t drowning in his saliva anymore,” you sighed, resting your chin in your hand as you leaned against the counter.

“That sucks, man,” Robin said, patting your shoulder comfortingly. The bell above the door rang out and Robin peered over your shoulder to catch a look at the customer. Robin glanced at Steve, hoping he’d help whoever just walked in, but he simply pointed over his shoulder, indicating for her to get to work. “Shit, duty calls,” she spoke quickly, rushing from behind the counter to greet the new customer.

“So,” Steve appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliding behind the counter to stand where Robin previously was. “I told my parents about my promotion and they want to take me out to a nice dinner,” Steve’s gaze was drawn to the glass counter in front of him, suddenly unable to look at you.

“That sounds nice. I’m glad they’re finally recognizing your achievements,” you beamed at him, eyes scanning over his messy hair. He’d clearly been running his hands through it, nervously tugging the perfectly styled strands out of place.

“Yeah,” he started, letting out a huff of breath as he spoke. “They want you to come too,” he finally met your confused gaze. Your brows lifted and your mouth fell agape as you processed Steve’s words.

“Me? What? Why?” was all you could get out, words stuttered as your head filled with questions.

“Well, remember that time they came home early and nearly caught us in the kitchen so we played it off like we were about to make breakfast?” Steve asked, watching as your cheeks heat in embarrassment from the memory.

“The French toast incident. Yeah, I remember,” you nodded, curious about its connection to Steve’s upcoming celebratory dinner.

“Ever since then, they’ve been convinced that we’re dating. No matter how many times I’ve told them we’re not, they still think we’re together. They call you my girlfriend and everything,” Steve informed you, and it was like a light bulb went off in your head.

“The very few interactions I’ve had with them make a lot more sense now,” you stated, recalling all the times Steve’s parents asked you very girlfriend-esque questions. “Anyways, I’ll be there. Anything to support my little Stevie,” you pinched his cheek and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. 

Robin rounded the front counter, barreling Steve aside to ring up the customer she’d been dealing with. You took that as your indication to leave. You spun on your heels, heading back to the front door when Steve called out behind you.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” Steve spoke and you just kept walking, finally stopping as you reached the door.

“See you then, Stevie,” you smiled at him, pushing open the door and walking out into the summer sun. 

Steve wasn’t sure why his palms were so sweaty all of a sudden. Maybe he could blame it on the rundown air conditioner that Keith refused to replace. But he knew deep down that it was you. It was always you. His chest filled with butterflies at the thought of taking you out on a real date, despite the annoying addition of his parents. He’d treat you better than any of the other guys had before. He’d make you want to be his in the same way that he wanted to be yours, that he was sure of.

I know what you tell your friends

Steve picked you up right when he said he would, watching as you descended your driveway in a sundress. He couldn’t help the silent gasp that fell from his lips, so taken aback by your beauty. The passenger door swung open and you slid into the seat, meeting Steve’s admiring gaze with a smile.

“Ready, boyfriend?” you teased, leaning into the role that Steve’s parents expected you to play. Steve could’ve sworn that his heart stopped as the word fell from your lips. He hadn’t known until then how much he wanted to hear you call him that.

“You bet, girlfriend,” he snapped himself out of his stupor and finally responded, driving off in the direction of the restaurant.

Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, their delicate wings swarming deep within you. Things had been different with Steve recently but you weren’t sure why. His longing stares and flushed cheeks raised feelings from deep within that you were unable to identify, pushing them aside for the sake of your friendship.

The restaurant came into view and you noticed the nervous tap of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When the car came to a stop you took hold of his hand, wrapping his palm with yours and easing the worries that plagued him.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” you spoke softly, comfortingly. Steve’s eyes softened, his head nodding as his nerves melted away at the tingle of his hand enveloped in yours.

The restaurant was packed when you entered, your hand still interlocked with Steve’s. It didn’t take long to find Steve’s parents though, all you had to do was follow the sound of a woman complaining that her ice water had too much ice.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” Steve greeted his parents, pulling their attention to the two of you standing on the opposite side of the table. Steve’s parents were not the touchy kind, opting for a simple nod of their head in greeting rather than a handshake or hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear,” Mrs. Harrington addressed you, a plastic smile upturning the corners of her lips. The conversation continued, Steve’s parents pestering you both with questions.

“Steve tells me that you’re in school?” Mr. Harrington questioned, his gaze peering at you through the thick lenses of his glasses. You were taken aback by his question, not expecting him to know much about you. Steve had talked about you to his parents? He’d told them about you and your personal life?

“Yes, I am. I’m enrolled at the community college for now but I plan to transfer to a state school once I get my associate's degree,” you did your best to remain calm under the intense gaze of Steve’s parents, though the foundations of your cool facade were beginning to crack. Steve noticed the panic that creased your brow, taking it upon himself to clutch your hand in his under the table. Relief flooded you instantly, calmed by the warm caress of Steve’s skin on yours.

“That’s a good plan,” Mr. Harrington spoke again, turning his gaze from you to his son. “Seems much better than working at a video store with no thought of the future,” his face remained straight as he insulted Steve as if it were second nature by now.

Steve’s admiring smile, the one that stretched his lips at his father’s approval of your current path, faltered at the harsh words directed his way. Your hand squeezed Steve’s, reminding him that you were still there, that the insensitive words of the man before him didn’t matter. 

“Dad,” Steve started but was quickly silenced by the raise of his father’s hand. It was like watching a dog following its owner’s command to sit. Steve was well trained by now, knowing when to be quiet, but you weren’t.

“With all due respect Mr. Harrington, Steve has worked his ass off at Family Video,” you defended, ignoring the gasp that came from Mrs. Harrington at your use of profanity. “Steve earned his promotion through hard work and dedication, two principles that I thought a businessman like yourself would greatly value,” you continued, your hand still clasped against Steve’s as your rage boiled over.

“Well, yes but-” Mr. Harrington began but you interrupted him before he could continue.

“Maybe it’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but Steve is learning valuable skills that can easily translate to other jobs later on,” you stated while Steve’s parents sat dumbfounded across from you, not used to being talked back to. “It's a shame you can’t see how wonderful and compassionate your son is. You should be proud of the man he’s becoming. I know I am,” your eyes roamed the dropped jaws of Steve’s parents and held back a smile at their shocked expressions.

You turned to Steve then, his gaze securely fastened on you. A smirk danced on his lips as he admired the crease in your forehead and the angry pinch of your brows. He watched as your expression unraveled, softening as your eyes landed on him. 

Steve was speechless, stunned by your fierce loyalty on his behalf. He wanted to kiss you so badly, crush his lips to yours in a way that left a bruise by the time you pulled away for air. But he held himself back, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to freshen up in the restroom,” you gently pulled your hand from Steve’s, pushing your chair back and knocking some silverware off the table in the process. Steve watched as you walked away, encapsulated by the sway of your hips and the skin exposed by the movement of your dress with each step.

“I’ll go get some clean silverware,” Steve leaned down, picking up the utensils that littered the ground. He then quickly followed in your direction, leaving his still-shocked parents alone at the table. He approached the bathroom, a single-user restroom, and knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” you called out through the door, barely heard over the conversations and soft music that filled the restaurant.

“It’s me,” Steve said into the door, hoping not to attract too much attention from the tables nearby. The lock turned quickly, allowing Steve to push the door open and step into the small bathroom with you.

He clicked the lock back into place before turning to face you. His eyes read yours, receiving their open invitation, so he grasped your face, pulling it to meet his. Steve kissed you in the way he desired to only minutes before, with a rough clash of teeth and tongues that left you breathless.

“That was so fucking hot,” he spoke into your lips, one hand caressing your cheek as the other trailed down to your exposed legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs. 

“Steve,” you tried to break free from his kiss, but his lips followed yours. “Your parents are still at the table,” you reminded him, knowing that he intended to do far more than just kiss you.

“We’ll just have to be quick then,” his lips caressed yours again, his hand moving inwards, meeting the seam of your panties. You were conflicted, worry washing over you at the possibility of being caught. But Steve’s touch momentarily quelled the burning heat that bloomed between your legs.

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, tracing the outline of your folds, swiping at the dampness that began to form. He swiftly pulled your panties down, helping you step out of them before shoving them into his back pocket. Steve leaned you over the sink, unzipping his pants and slipping his hardened cock from the confines of the material.

You watched him through the mirror in front of you, his hands stroking his cock before lining it up with your entrance. He eased in, slipping in inch by inch before bottoming out. A moan slipped past his lips as he quickly pulled out and thrust back in, giving you little time to adjust. 

His thrusts were harsh and rough, knocking you forward with each motion. Your elbows that propped you up slid against the sink’s smooth countertop, bringing you closer and closer to the mirror with each movement. But Steve didn’t let up, forcefully pounding his cock into your core as he whimpered above you.

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his hands holding your hips in place. “It’s like your pussy was made for me. Squeezing me so good,” he didn’t let up, fucking you desperately, like he’d never get to do it again. 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, suppressing your moans, not wanting to be heard by the rest of the restaurant. 

“So close, baby,” Steve leaned down, pressing kisses to your bare shoulders while maintaining his fierce pace. Your high was building along with Steve’s as he brushed a spot deep within you. 

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” Steve spoke suddenly, catching you off guard as he spilled into you. Steve’s thrusts faltered as he pumped his cum deep within your folds. “All mine. Want you to be all mine,” he whispered into your skin, slumping against your folded body. It took a moment before he stood up straight again, regaining his composure and tucking his cock back into his pants.

You stood up with him, wide eyes watching him from the mirror. He fixed his disheveled hair, not noticing the shocked expression that you wore. You hadn’t cum, hadn’t had enough time for your orgasm to fully build before Steve spilled his seed into you. You also couldn’t ignore the words he muttered against you. Words that spoke of a relationship, something more. The same words that Steve seemed to be completely oblivious to having said. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, finally noticing your worried look. You nodded, observing the boy who seemed to have unknowingly confessed his desires to you. “I’ll leave you to freshen up. I gotta go get more silverware,” he pulled the dirty silverware from his pocket that didn’t have your panties before opening the door and leaving you pantyless, alone in the bathroom with frazzled thoughts and his cum leaking down your thigh.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, locking the door once more and cleaning yourself up. Did Steve want to be with you? Did he want to have you in the way you secretly hoped?

Your thoughts still raced as you exited the restroom, weaving through tables to get back to where you previously sat. But something caught your attention, or more like someone. Steve stood with a waiter, some guy you recognized from high school but couldn’t quite name off the top of your head.

“Are you two dating? Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve finally got tied down,” the unnamed waiter said, earning a grin from Steve. You were curious to know his answer, to hear what he said about you when you weren’t around. 

“Nah, man. She’s just some girl that lets me fuck her on my couch,” Steve chuckled, running a hand through his hair. The color drained from your face, breath exhaled shakily as tears welled in your eyes. His response was a far cry from what he’d whispered as he came inside you just moments ago.

Your feet carried you away, stumbling back to the table to avoid being seen by Steve. You plopped into your chair, meeting the skittish gazes of Steve’s parents. Their expressions reminded you of your words from before, how you defended Steve, how very wrong you may have been. 

Steve appeared a minute later clutching a new set of silverware and spewing an apology for how long it took. He placed the silverware in front of you, replacing your soiled set. His hand came to rest on your thigh and you couldn’t help the way you flinched at his touch. It was as if he was a completely different person to you now. 

Conversation resumed, Steve easing the tension at the table and re-engaging with his parents. You chimed in when needed, staying silent otherwise, consumed by thought. Steve’s parents had warmed up to you again by the end of the meal, despite how shutdown you had become.

“Steve should bring you to our house in Long Beach sometime. It’s gorgeous this time of year,” Mrs. Harrington suggested and you forced on a fake smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, as you nodded. You and Steve thanked his parents for dinner before heading back to Steve’s car. 

The drive back to your house was quiet, your eyes peering through the window, gazing at the passing scenery, doing anything to keep from looking at the boy next to you. Steve came to a stop in front of your driveway and you immediately opened the door, stumbling out and starting the walk to your front door.

“What are you doing?” Steve called after you, exiting his car and following behind you. 

“Going into my house,” you said, not bothering to turn around or stop, continuing your trek to the door.

“No kiss? No goodbye?” Steve questioned, finally reaching you at your doorstep. You had been fumbling with your keys, struggling to unlock the door. Steve’s hand landed on your shoulder and you snapped, abandoning your keys in the lock and whipping around to face him.

“Why does it matter? I’m just some girl that lets you fuck her on your couch, right? So why do you care?” anger spilled out of you with each syllable, causing Steve to pull back, his foot falling down a step, letting you tower over him. “Yeah, I heard you, asshole,” your words spewed from your lips as Steve’s mouth opened, silently fumbling for words.

“I didn’t-” Steve began before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to worry about people thinking you’re tied down anymore, King Steve,” you turned back to your front door, finally managing to get it unlocked. You took a step inside while Steve still stood on the doorstep. “Maybe you can find some other girl to fuck around with instead,” you slammed the door shut, sinking against it and falling to the ground as the tears you held in finally leaked down your cheeks. You didn’t mean it, of course you didn’t mean it. But the hurt and anger tore you apart as you sobbed into your hands.

Steve stood still on your doorstep, his feet rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door. He loved you, he knew that for sure. As his glassy eyes traced the spot where you just stood, he felt his heart crack and shatter, its pieces filling the pit of his stomach with enough force to make bile rise in his throat. Steve knew he loved you, and unfortunately, he knew that he also just lost you.

Someone you couldn’t lose

“I really would rather just go back home. Why do you even need me for this?” you asked Eddie, his arm interlocked with yours, dragging you forward. He continued his steady pace, not letting up despite your dragging feet that weighed him down.

“Because you haven’t done anything but cry for the past few days. You need to leave your cave of solitude,” Eddie’s breath was a bit labored as he led you to the entrance of The Hideout. “Plus Gareth canceled on me and I didn’t want to go by myself,” Eddie added, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“Why couldn’t you take Robin or, I don’t know, literally anyone else?” you asked while Eddie guided you through the bar. The bar was practically empty, the crowd even smaller than when Corroded Coffin usually plays. God, the band playing tonight must suck.

“Because I enjoy your company, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, plastering a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips. A smile that you met with a glare. “And Robin is busy with Steve tonight,” he revealed his true reason for inviting you.

In another universe, a less complicated one, you would be mad at Eddie for being his last-resort concert buddy. But in this universe, the one where you and Steve were interlinked in an ever-so-tangled web, your heart stopped at the mention of his name.

Steve’s crude words played through your head like a bad earworm, momentarily overtaking your thoughts as your face faltered. Eddie watched the quiver of your lip and crease in your brow. He ached at the thought of your sadness, wanting to alleviate any trace of it, which is why he brought you to The Hideout, but not for the reason that you might think.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Eddie put his hand on your back ushering you towards the nearly empty bar. For once today, he didn’t have to drag you, your feet willingly trailing along behind him at the thought of alcohol. Eddie plopped down on a stool ordering you both a drink while you slid in beside him. 

The drinks were quickly made and paid for, leaving the two of you to sip away in silence. Your gaze drifted around the bar, curiously eyeing its patrons. Something didn’t seem right as you scanned the stage set up on the side of the room.

“Eddie,” you took a sip of your drink, focus shifting back to the boy next to you. “If there’s a show tonight then why is it so empty in here?” the question left your lips and Eddie’s nervous stare landed on the wood surface of the bar below. 

The front door slammed open, saving Eddie from your question. Your head whipped around at the sound of the door in combination with the hushed voices that filled the room. Steve and Robin. They were arguing about something, but you couldn’t hear them. The sounds that encompassed the bar slipped away, leaving your ears ringing in the stark silence. 

Watery eyes gazed upon the boy across the bar that was too enveloped in his conversation to look up. Eddie cleared his throat beside you, but your eyes didn’t leave Steve, roaming over his wild hair and disheveled clothes. Eddie may not have been able to get your attention, but he did get Steve’s, drawing his awareness until his eyes landed on you.

Steve froze in place, his pink lips parting in surprise as he traced your features. His heart ached at the distance between you, both metaphorical and physical. You couldn’t help but feel the same as you got down from your stool, feet pulling you closer. 

Steve met you halfway, stopping in the middle of the room, uncaring of the questioning looks you both attracted in the process. Words were lost on the tip of your tongue, incapable of leaving your lips.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Steve spoke breathlessly, a nervous hand running through his hair. “Robin dragged me here, but I can leave if you want,” Steve offered, but you quickly found yourself shaking your head.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice small like a child who’d just been scolded. Steve nodded quickly, taking no time to think over your suggestion. He didn’t need to, all he could think about for the past few days was how badly he wanted to talk to you. The ache in his chest only grew more painful with each passing day of silence. 

With his hand grasped in yours, you led Steve out the side door to an alleyway next to The Hideout. Your hand tingled at the warmth of Steve’s palm pressed gently against yours. Reluctantly, you dropped his hand, leaning against the building as Steve’s wandering gaze studied you nervously. He wasn’t sure whether you wanted to speak first or not, but he just couldn’t hold it in any longer, succumbing to his urge to expel an explanation.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that about you,” Steve spewed out, his words desperate and pleading, frown lines etched deep into his skin.

“Is that really how you feel about me? That I’m just some girl?” you asked, voice quiet and broken, stifled by the tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, embarrassed to sound so small, so reliant on his opinion of you.

“No, absolutely not,” Steve shook his head immediately, stepping closer to you. “I just- I’ve been feeling a certain way about you lately, but I didn’t want to scare you. So I downplayed it, tried to make it seem like it was nothing to that guy from high school, but it is something,” Steve confessed, scanning your face for any hint of what you were thinking. He couldn’t find what he was looking for in your avoidant stare and his shoulders deflated.

A cool summer breeze whispered in the space between your bodies, bringing a chill to your skin as you thought over Steve’s words. You could feel the way his eyes searched you, pleading for a sign, but you didn’t budge, not when you didn’t have the answer you were looking for yet.

“And how exactly have you been feeling about me lately?” you finally look up, meeting Steve’s desperate stare. His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them as he mulled over his next words. You were giving him a shot, a chance to lay it all out on the line. Steve just had to be smart enough, brave enough, to take it.

“Like I love you,” Steve asserted with shaky hands, carefully watching you for a reaction. The breath in your lungs fled, your eyes widening a bit and then softening in sweet admiration while the corner of your lips ticked upwards ever so slightly, which only encouraged Steve to continue. “Like I want to be with you all the time, not just late at night or when neither of us can get laid. I want you to be mine and for me to be yours,” his feet carried him closer to you, his spearmint and cigarette scented breath fanning warmly across your face. “Do you want that too?” he asked, his confidence dwindling by the second, making his voice as small as yours had been earlier.

His eyes darted back and forth tracing your soft skin, your lengthy eyelashes, and your plush lips. Steve was dying for your answer, just on the brink of falling to his knees and begging, but if there was even the slightest possibility that you were to reject him then he wanted to savor this moment beforehand. The calm before the storm.

He wanted to memorize the curve of your cheeks, every beauty mark or scar expanding across your skin, the way the moonlight illuminated your face in the dark of the night. Steve decided he could wait forever for you to speak your next syllable as long as he got to stay in this moment and simply be with you. But despite his desire to freeze time, your mouth opened, effectively sealing Steve’s potential fate with you.

“Yes,” your answer came out breathlessly like you had just finished running a marathon, and based on how fast your heart was pounding in your chest, you might as well have. Steve exhaled in a smile, his tongue wetting his lips once more. He wanted nothing more than to caress your supple skin and kiss you. So he did.

Steve wrapped you in his arms, pulling you flush against him, and searched your face for reassurance. When he found what he was looking for, Steve dived in, pressing his lips to yours. It was far from the first time you’d kissed, but something felt different this time. It was years of buried feelings finally clawing their way to the surface and announcing that they were here to stay. You pulled away with a smile and your forehead pressed to his.

“You know,” Steve spoke, words just above a whisper as he attempted to catch his breath. “Now that I think about it, there’s no way we coincidentally ended up in the same place at the same time,” he finished, arching a brow at you, hoping you’d understand what he was implying.

“Eddie and Robin definitely set this up,” you caught on to his train of thought.

“Definitely,” Steve agreed. He should be mad, he really should be. His friends had no right to meddle in his love life like this. But how could he be upset when he had you cradled in his arms and your chapstick smeared across his lips?

“I hate them,” you voiced, clearly unserious in your statement.

“I don’t,” Steve peered down at you, catching the reflection of the crescent moon in your eyes. “They brought me back to you,” he shrugged with a smile and you couldn't help but mirror him before closing the space between you with another kiss.

After a few more shared smiles and soft kisses, you and Steve decided to go back into the bar. It was just as empty as it had been before, further proving to you that Eddie lied in order to get you and Steve together. Steve’s hand was clasped around yours as you walked further in, spotting Eddie and Robin sitting across from one another in a booth.

“Follow my lead,” you whispered as the pair finally saw the two of you approaching. Wide smiles stretched their lips at the sight of you hand in hand. 

“So Eddie, when’s this band coming on?” you asked, coming to a stop at the end of the booth. Eddie’s eyes widened at your question, having expected you to forget about how he got you to The Hideout under false pretenses, especially given the fact that you’d made up with Steve.

“There, uh, isn’t one for tonight,” Eddie stuttered, looking like a deer in headlights at the arch of your brow.

“Oh,” you did your best to look taken aback like this wasn’t the answer you had expected. “So you lied?” you questioned, your tone expressing more confusion rather than anger, which only made Eddie more nervous. His mouth hung agape while Steve and Robin stifled their giggles and smirks.

“How about I get everyone a drink?” Eddie stood up quickly, looking for an escape. “Steve? Wanna help?” Eddie backed away from you and headed towards the bar. Steve released his hand from yours, shaking his head with a smile as he followed behind.

You slid into Eddie’s vacated seat, across from Robin. She still had a smirk etched into her face when your gazes met.

“Don't think you’re off the hook too,” you stated and her smirk fell almost comically. Your gaze drifted from her to the bar, landing on Steve. He was already facing you with a warm smile.

“I love you,” he mouthed to you, and you felt your breath catch again. It was something you’d have to get used to. After so long of denying your feelings and the insistence to stay casual, it would be a big change. But it was a change you were more than happy to accommodate.

“I love you too,” you mouthed back, and you really did mean it.

[3minsover]

back on my steddie bullshit fr

Thinking about hope(ful)less romantic Steve driving to Eddie's trailer in the pouring rain to finally confess his love after months of dancing around each other and almost-confessions that crumble on the tips of their tongues before they can become anything real.

Steve finds himself pacing around the ground floor of a house that's too big and too quiet, thinking about a guy who should never, ever have taken up as much of his brain as he currently does. It's a Friday night, and Eddie's most likely out at a gig, or at a bar, or doing nerd shit. He's most likely doing anything but thinking about Steve. And yet here Steve is, entirely preoccupied with the reckless marvel that is Eddie Munson.

Fuck it.

It's been four months since Vecna, and everyone seems to be okay again. It's been long enough that it wouldn't be weird for Steve to make a move, right?

Before Steve can really consider what it is he's about to do, he has his keys in hand and he's heading out towards his car. He doesn't even realize it was raining until he steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. And there's not much thought that goes into any of it, really. It's instinctive, the way Steve knows the route to Eddie's place by now. Regardless of the thrashing of his heart, there's an easy kind of familiarity in the sodden streets and jutting roads. Steve's windshield wipers are working double time, fending off the sheets of rain that pile down amidst the humidity of late July; it'd been a cloudless day until the sun set. But like the heaviness of Steve's heart, the clouds had begun to weigh themselves down with water, waiting for the moment where the heft of it all became too much.

Steve hadn't quite beaten those clouds to the punch.

He arrives at Eddie's with really no recollection of how he'd gotten there, only that he needed to see him and nothing was going to get in his way. Eddie's already sitting out on the porch when he pulls up. The dusty ground is darker, saturated with fat, relentless raindrops. Eddie sits on the steps of his trailer, only just covered by the awning. The toes of his sneakers shine with wetness.

"Why are you out here?" Steve asks, clambering out of his car. It's all he can think to say. It's not the words he wants to purge, not the things that have been itching in his throat every time they've been alone together for the last however-many weeks. But it's what comes out.

"Wanted to hear the rain," Eddie responds, a cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. It's a simple enough response. Shouldn't warrant a reaction. Only, Steve's standing a few yards away, dampening by the moment, and he needs to just get it out.

"I need to- I gotta talk to you," Steve stutters, drifting closer. Eddie's eyes narrow.

"About what?" he asks, clearly skeptical.

"About you. Or, me. Us. I- shit, I used to be good at this." Steve raises a hand to swipe over his mouth: it comes away wet. He's fucking soaked, standing defenceless against the onslaught from above. Eddie flicks the cigarette and the butt lands at the base of the steps. He hinges upright, dropping down a step until the raindrops begin to splatter onto his curls, landing like spits of silver against the glow of the street lamps overhead.

"Good at what?" Eddie calls through the low rumble of the rain.

"Good at- I dunno, confessions? I told Nancy how I felt about her no problem. Robin was a little tougher, but I still got through that, but with you," Steve gushes, entirely unsure as to where he's going with this, "I just can't seem to find the words."

For an impossible amount of time, Eddie stares. His pretty features seem to go through about a half dozen emotions before he settles on something that Steve's soul recognizes as pity. He prepares himself for inevitable rejection.

"You're telling me you can't find the words?" Eddie asks, incredulous, "Dude, i'm a songwriter, a fucking wordsmith, and I've been drawing a blank on you for months!"

Steve squints, a little at a loss.

"What?" he asks, feels stupid for not getting it straight away.

"Steve, I should be able to write songs about the guy I love, right?"

"Well- Yeah- I- Wait, what?" Steve starts before Eddie's words catch up. The rain's growing heavier, beginning to sting his cheeks a little, but he's fixed to the spot, not daring to move any closer. It's Eddie that draws nearer, dropping down the final steps until they're on even footing.

"If you hadn't- If you didn't come over here tonight, I was gonna- I was gonna come to you. I had this whole fuckin' speech planned out - I'm pretty sure it was stupid, honestly, but I wrote it anyway, because I have all these goddamn feelings about you, Steve. And I couldn't find a way to make them sound like anything other than what they are." Eddie's waves are flattening by the second, darkening under the weight of the water falling from above. Steve's heart pounds against his ribs, threatens to break free altogether.

"But I- I came here to- You're- Eddie?"

"Fuck sake, Steve. I'm-"

"Wait." Steve interrupts him, his brain catching up all at once, overfilling and spilling over. "Wait, just let me- Can I say what I was gonna say?"

Eddie folds his arms around himself, chilled by the rain despite the thick warmth of summer around them.

"Sure. Shoot."

Steve heaves in a breath.

"Okay. Eddie. I've been thinking, and you and me, we're good, right? Like, for each other." A droplet of rain catches between Steve's lashes, forcing him to blink it away. Eddie's slim figure remains in front of him, proving that this is real, this isn't some hallucination, some daydream borne of an idle brain. "I think you and me could be something good. Great, even. And I- I- I think I- I know you maybe said it already, and I shouldn't even be-" Eddie strides forward, closing the space between them in a breathless moment. Steve's breath catches in his throat. Eddie's dark eyes dart frantically between Steve's own, so round and wide and beautiful. Steve's so in love with him. "Eddie, I'm- I think I've... fallen in love with you." Steve skates his palms over Eddie's biceps, up and over his shoulders, until he's cradling the sides of Eddie's neck. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm in love with you."

Where they're so closely matched in height, Steve's eyes are crossing just to keep his gaze focused on Eddie, who's looking more like the proverbial deer in headlights right now.

"Shit, Harrington," Eddie breathes, and Steve feels it warm against his rain-chilled lips, "took you long enough."

It's a kiss that follows, soft and hesitant, like Steve would do anything but lean into it, like he's anything but head over heels, absolutely and embarrassingly in love. it's a kiss, and it's wet and a little too cold, a little too out in the open, but Steve wouldn't change it for anything.

[talaok]

Okay . What about pedro × reader

Hear me out ...

They are dating for a few months but keeping it a secret the reader is also an actress and in her new movie her Co star is into her and with the interviews everyone is talking about in in social media . So pedro gets jealous and show up at her work ... maybe they fight or idk . I'm not sure about the ending

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: Pedro’s jealous of one of your co-stars

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst because I didn’t feel like doing a lot, and allusion to smut

A/n: why do yall like jealous Pedro so much!?

Pedro was not a jealous man, he knew you were his, just like he was yours.

He didn't mind the stares you'd attract from other men, he didn't mind the shameless flirting everyone always directed your way, and he didn't even mind having to see you kiss other men on screen... but there's a limit to everything.

He'd stumbled by accident in the comment section of your most recent post, a picture with the cast of the new movie you were shooting, and god if he wished he hadn't.

He meant to write a cute comment, because even though nobody knew about you two, nobody ever seemed to notice the borderline flirty words he'd leave under your pictures, and now he understood why.

He wasn't completely oblivious to the online conspiracies about you and Andrew, you had told him about it, about all the edits and fans and ships or whatever, however, there was a small detail you had forgotten to inform him about: the guy obviously liked you.

And who could blame him right? 

Pedro. He could fucking blame him.

It didn't take long before he was furiously stalking his own girlfriend's Instagram.

you look stunning darling

Darling? When the fuck did he start calling you that?

I think I just had a heart attack

Oh, fuck off

And that wasn't even the worst part. Fuck no. The worst part was the fucking videos. the interviews. The way his eyes never left your fucking body. The way he touched your hand and lingered just enough for him to notice. the way he didn't even try to hide his pathetic attempts at flirting even when he knew he was being fucking filmed.

By the time Pedro shut his phone, he was ready to go have a “talk” with this guy

But first, he needed to see you. Now.

__ __ __

"God please if it's Gary tell him that I don't need to practice that scene again, I got it." you rolled your eyes as you instructed your assistant to open the trailer's door after hearing a knock.

"sure thing, but I don't think he can be so easily persuad-" her voice trailed off as she took in the man in front of her.

"Hi" she smiled at Pedro "It's-it's not Gary" she shot you a look.

"what, who is it?" you asked, momentarily forgetting the lipstick in your hand as you got up.

"Pedro?"

"hi sweetheart"

"what are you doing here?" you couldn't hide your confusion.

"Just wanted to see you," he said, entering the trailer.

"Oh," you smiled, before glancing at your assistant "I'm sorry Ana, could you give us a moment?"

"no problem, but remember you need to be on set in '15"

"yes ma'am" You joked, giving her a pretend salute.

She chuckled as she closed the door behind her.

"they have you on a tight schedule huh?" Pedro murmured, wasting no time before wrapping his arms around your back, forcing you flush against him.

"they do" you nodded, standing on your toes "So you're not gonna get what you came all this way for" you taunted, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

He grunted, unsatisfied, and pulled you back for another kiss. This one much hungrier.

"Is that what you think I only think about?"

"well you don't make much of a case for yourself" you laughed softly.

"that's your fault" he breathed "If you weren't the most stunning woman on earth maybe I wouldn't be so all over you"

"maybe" you shrugged, lazily drawing patterns on his chest "Maybe not"

"I need to talk to you," he said, suddenly more serious.

A cloud of dread dropped onto you.

"oh," you murmured, taking a step back "about what?"

He looked around the place before finding your eyes again.

"I want to tell everyone"

You frowned 

"I want to tell people we're together"

You were taken aback.

He was always the one opposed to it. He didn't want you to get caught in all the drama and gossip inevitably heading your way, no matter how many times you told him you didn't care.

"What?" you smiled "Why- I mean why now?"

"I want everyone to know you're mine. And I'm yours" he said " including Andrew"

You shot him a look "Andrew?"

"You didn't tell me he's obsessed with you"

"what? He's not"

"he is baby,"

"how would you even know?"

"I saw it"

"When? You've never met him"

"I saw the comments, and the interviews, and the videos"

"And you think just because in an interview he did what? made me laugh, he likes me?" you scoffed "That's ridiculous Pedro"

"I don't want to tell everyone we're together just because you're jealous of a guy I work with," 

"that's not why I want to tell sweetheart" he reassured you, taking a step towards you " I want everyone to know just how much I love you, that's why. And if that means that guys like Andrew will back off... even better"

"He's not into me" you insisted

A sly smile pulled at his lips "God baby, you really have no idea what you do to men, do you?"

"He's not into me."

"Sure" he mocked "and tell me, when was the last time he didn't do something you asked him?" He asked, moving some hair out of your face.

An almost comical silence spread through the room.

"That's what I thought" he nodded, using his fingers to raise your chin.

"Maybe he's just polite"

He leaned closer, his mouth ghosting yours "Or maybe he's just in love with my girl" he breathed a moment before kissing you deeply, one hand to the back of your neck and one to your ass.

"so what do you say?" he asked once you parted "You ready to tell the world?"

"Only if you are"

"oh you have no idea" he murmured, suddenly picking you up and pinning you against a wall.

A small gasp fled your lips, but he silenced it with a kiss.

"Pedro..." you warned him, tightening your legs' grip on his waist.

"they can wait" he read your mind "You're the start after all"

You couldn't help but laugh at that.

"you're a bad influence" you breathed, causing a smirk to land on his lips as he kissed your neck.

"sweetheart?" he suddenly asked

"Yeah?" you murmured, already out of breath.

"Whose trailer is next to this one?"

You paused a moment, pondering your options.

"Andrew's" you finally spoke, going for the truth “Why?”

By the look of it, that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Baby,I think you know why”

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Eddie and Max get out of the hospital at the same time. Eddie's scars are tender. It hurts to move sometimes. But he's got ointment, and pain pills, he'll be fine.

Max can see, not super well, but it improves a little every week. Her arms are mostly healed, she still has slings for when they ache. Her legs are healed, technically, the bones anyway. But she's got braces and isn't supposed to walk on them yet. She can stand on them for a couple minutes off and on to stretch them. But she goes to physical therapy multiple times a week.

Her mom had been rightly worried and upset and freaked out, because they couldn't afford a van for her wheelchair. And yeah she can get out of her wheelchair if she needs too, but its easier on her body if she can just, roll in and out of a vehicle.

So eddie tells her mom he can drive her around. All they need is a ramp for his van. He already had straps in the back to secure things, they use them on Gareth's drum set. The relief on Max's mothers face and the way she hugs him genlty is... too much. He just smiles and looks away, nodding when she thanks him again.

He drives her to therapy twice and decides that her trailer needs a ramp too. A good one. He can't help lift Max's chair, so he just has to watch Max's mom struggle to get her up the stairs.

So he goes home and starts drawing. He can see it in his head, the way he wants it, bigger than it probably needs to be, but he wants the slope to be low impact, because once her arms get strong enough to move herself, he wants her to able to do that. He just... doesn't know how he's gonna manage to DO all this.

But he goes to the hardware store one day, with Wayne, because Wayne knows things, about everything. And Wayne helps him pick out the wood, they estimate the numbers and then buy a little more, just in case. And they load it up, and drop it by Max's house. And the next day, Wayne goes to work, and so does Eddie.

He ties his hair back, shoves himself into a pair of Wayne's old cover alls, and walks slowly over to Max's, she doesn't have therapy today, or the next two. Eddie doesn't think he can get it done by then, but he's gonna fucking get it started if it kills him. He pops a pain pill into his mouth, takes a swig from the water he'd brought with him, takes a look at the drawing he'd made, and gets to work.

Max rolls onto her small porch steps about an hour into Eddie's work, he's been measuring and cutting and just separating things into piles. She says his name softly and he looks up, squinting, he's covered in sweat. And his body fucking hurts. He wipes at his forehead with his arm and limps over to Max. She's holding out a new glass of water.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is ...tight. Like she knows exactly what he's doing. Eddie chugs the water and hands her back the empty glass.

"What? You don't like suprises?" He huffs, smiles with the tease. She smiles back, her bottom lip trembling slightly. He rests his hand gently on her knee, gives it a squeeze, then heads back to where he was,

"Go inside. I can't keep an eye you when I'm working and if you roll off that teeny tiny porch you're mom'll kill me." She snorts, but does as he says. A few minutes later Eddie hears the door slap shut again, and looks up to see another glass of water sitting on the porch. He shouts a thank you, and keeps working.

It only takes another hour before he almost has a breakdown. His skin hurts, he's hot, his hands are shaking. He's downed three more glasses of water. His last thank you had been so strangled that Max had just looked at him and then disappeared into the house.

He's sitting on the porch steps now, hands shaking in his lap, tears falling down his face. He can't take another pill yet. He's got two hours. He takes a few very deep breathes, about to steel himself and get back to work, his hands are on his knees, about to push himself up, when he hears the car.

He looks up, and Steve's car is parking at his house. His hands fall from his knees. But its not just Steve in the car, Nancy and Robin are there too. All of them in old looking jeans, and ratty looking shirts.

Robin's are covered in paint. Eddie's breathing goes shakey as Steve pats Robin's shoulder and points at Eddie. Robin nods and heads for him, doing a weird little run, Eddie can't help but smile. Steve and Nancy are grabbing things from Steve's trunk, Eddie doesn't see what things, before Robin is filling his vision, dropping to her knees in front of him looking concerned as her hands gently cradle his face.

"Hey you. You okay? Max said you might need some help." Robin breaths it out like a sigh, like she'd been holding in her worry. Eddie bites his lip to stop it from trembling anymore and nods. She nods back with a smile.

"Okay cool. Well, help is here. Help being, Steve and Nancy." She nods to them.

"And I'm gonna sit with you until you're feeling a bit better okay? Then you can jump back in." Steve clears his throat aggressively as he walks past her at that. Robin's face scrunches.

"Maybe." She tells Eddie. Steve was ... was he mad? He wasn't looking at Eddie, just helping Nancy get the tools they'd need out of the box they brought. Eddie had some tools, but just for one person. Robin rubs his knee gently and squishes in next to him on the stairs.

"So you got baby sitting duty?" He asks her, his side pressing into her as almost all the fight to stay upright leaves his body. She's steady beside him, holds him up easily, her hand curling around his bicep for extra support.

"Well, Nancy and Steve thought it was probably best that I don't handle tools. So yeah, but hey, babysitting you's not so bad. I mean you're a GREAT conversationalist." Robin smiles brightly at him, watches him try to smile back and then grimace.

"You okay?" Her voice is concerned now, and that apparently draws Steve's attention. He's at Eddie side in the time it takes for Eddie to nod, his face still scrunched in pain. Steve kneels, looks up at him.

"Where are your pills?" He asks. Eddie shakes his head.

"Hour an a half." Eddie grunts out. Steve's head falls and then it's shaking, he sighs, and fuck, he sounds disappointed. And he's glaring at Eddie when he finally looks back up.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Doing this by yourself, with no one here but Max to help you if you got hurt. Did you think about that?" Steve's voice gets louder as he talks.

"Steve." Robin's voice, a warning.

"No. Robin. This is... you could've gotten hurt Eddie." He huffs it, his voice is full of frustration, and anger. Eddie just stares at the ground, tries to breathe around the lump in his throat.

"I know I fucked up alright? Can we spare the lecture?" He grits, his voice is wobbly. Steve doesn't hear it, just huffs again and stands, Eddie sees his hands hit his hips and braces for whatever he's gonna say next.

"What was Max supposed to do if you got hurt? Huh? She can't help you dude! And Wayne's at work! You're all alone out here, when you shouldn't even be out here in the first place!" Steve is openly yelling now, both Nancy and Robin saying his name as Eddie's shoulders shake. Eddie clears his throat roughly, pushing the tight feeling away so he can speak. He shoves himself to his feet with a wince, pain shooting through his body.

"You think I dont know that? I know how fucking alone I am. Thank you. Steve." His hand clenches at the pain in his side, a whimper rips out of his throat, tears burn his eyes and fall. Steve looks startled, then concerned, reaches out to steady him, Eddie slaps his hand away, hard.

"Don't fuckin touch me." He growls, wipes at his eyes with shakey hands and starts walking to his trailer. His foot hits a dip in the ground and he stumbles, Robin catches him, just enough to keep him on his feet. She lets go immediately as he shrugs her touch off gently, and keeps walking.

"FUCK!" he yells it, to no one really, just built up frustration clawing its way out of him. He stomps, carefully, up his own trailer steps, and lets the door slam shut behind him.

Max's trailer door squeaks open, and the three of them turn to see her looking at Steve.

"That was harsh. I told you to come help him, not fucking yell at him and make it worse." The look in her eyes could cut glass. Steve droops under her scrutiny, his hands moving to cover his face.

"Fuck. I know." He groans. He looks up, and over to Robin.

"What's wrong with me?" He sighs, his head hanging again. Robin gives him a sympathetic smile, walks closer, rubs at his arm.

"You care about him. And you were mad. And when you're upset you get...." she trails off, thinking.

"Bitchy." Nancy supplies, moving to his other side, her hand on his shoulder as he glares at her.

"What? You do. Eddie was trying to do something nice. Something amazing, actually, for Max." Steve glares harder, she holds her finger up, silencening whatever he was about to interupt her with.

"And yes he went about it the wrong way. He obviously should have called for help." Robin chimes in, squeezing his arm.

"But no one said he was a genius. He's just trying to help." Nancy finishes, moving her hand over his shoulder soothingly.

"I know that. But he can't... he can't just help others to point that he hurts himself!" Steve flails a little, both Robin and Nancy leaning away from him, out of his flail range. They share a look though. And Max snorts behind him. He wips around to look at her.

"What? What was that for?" He asks, his tone, to his dismay, bitchy.

"Did you hear what just came out of your mouth? Have you met yourself?" She asks, crossing her arms carefully over her chest. She glares at him until he deflates. He sighs. Squints against the sun as he looks up at the sky.

"I need to go apologize." He says. All three girls nod.

"Yep." Nancy says, pressing her lips together so she doesn't smile.

"Definitely. 100% yeah." Robin squeezes his arm again, gives him an encouraging nod.

"If you don't. I'm throwing myself down these steps and telling my mom you left me unsupervised." Max says, her voice flat. Steve's eyes widen, and then he gives her a look.

"Jesus. Alright. I was already going. No need for threats." He calls the last part over his shoulder as he makes his way to Eddie's trailer. He bounces up the steps gingerly and knocks.

"Come in." Eddie's voice calls. Steve opens the door, the living room is empty. He walks down to Eddie's room and his heart sinks. Eddie has one arm pulled up inside his coveralls, it's bent at an interesting angle, he's sitting in the edge of his bed, his face is wet with tears. He flinches a little when he sees it's Steve standing there and that hurts Steve too. He moves closer, just one step and then Eddie chokes out,

"I'm stuck." And Steve moves fast. He kneels in front of Eddie, trying to look at the situation, his arm is caught in the sleeve, his elbow shoved into it tightly, he moves Eddie's wrist and Eddie flinches again.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, keeping his voice quiet. Eddie nods, bites his lip. The sleeve is pressing hard into Eddie's arm, right where one of his scars is. Steve winces in sympathy.

"How attached are you to these?" He tugs on the front of the coveralls, Eddie looks at him.

"I'm not. They're Wayne's old pair." He says, his voice tight from the pain.

"Okay good." Steve says as he slides his pocket knife out, flicks it open, and cuts the sleeve in one fluid motion. Eddie's arm drops free, another whimper falls out of him at the release.

Steve cradles Eddie's arm, holds it gently as Eddie catches his breath. His fingers squeeze Eddie's wrist and he opens his eyes. Looks at Steve.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." Steve says, not letting go of Eddie's wrist. Eddie blinks at him. Stares. Then shakes his head.

"Don't be. I fucked up. You were right. I shouldn't have been out there by myself." Eddie frowns, wipes at his wet face. Steve shakes his head then, pushing himself up onto his knees, his back straightening, moving him closer to Eddie's face.

"No. Don't do that. It wasn't your fault. Okay? I shouldn't have yelled. You were trying to help Max. And I just... I didn't wanna find you hurt. Again." Steve looks at Eddie, really looks at him, tries to convey what he means without having to say it. Eddie's eyes are wide, and a little glassy from crying, but Steve sees it, the moment realization hits him.

"Okay. I won't do it again." Eddie nods, moves his wrist in Steve's hand so he can curl his fingers around Steve's wrist.

"Thank you. Just call us. We'll help you. Okay? And Eddie?" Steve swallows, stands and lifts Eddie to his feet, Eddie blinks at him owlishly.

"You're not alone. I'm sorry if we made you feel that way." Steve whispers it, feels his throat burn as Eddie starts crying again. He wipes at his face and shakes his head, looks at Steve with some strange frown smile combo.

"No I know. I just... it's always just been me. And Wayne. Ya know?" He says, holding onto Steve as he sways, dizzy. Steve holds onto him right back.

"Yeah. Well... not anymore." Steve shrugs, smiles, and then tugs Eddie out of his room. They get him another pain pill, Steve rubs some ointment onto the scar on his arm, and then they go back outside.

Nancy is cutting wood while Robin measures and marks. Steve doesn't let go of Eddie's hand until he has him sitting on the porch steps. Max hands him another glass of water.

"You're drinking me out of house and home Munson." She teases, he stares her down as he chugs the water, holds the glass back out to her and wiggles it with a shit eating grin.

"Unbelievable. Sending the girl in the wheelchair to do your errands." She sighs, but smiles when Eddie hops up and gets the door for her, follows her inside to help. He pops back a minute later and hands Steve a peice of paper. It has his plans for the ramp on it.

"This is sort of what I was aiming for." He shrugs, watches Steve look over the paper.

"You did this?" He asks, looking back up at Eddie. Eddie nods, wraps his arms around himself, feeling self-conscious under Steve's gaze.

"What? What's wrong with it?" He asks when Steve says nothing.

"What? Oh no, sorry, nothing's wrong. It's just super detailed." Steve smiles, shakes his head, hands the paper to Robin and Nancy.

"Yeah well, I wanted it done right." Eddie shrugs, Nancy makes a weird moaning sound behind them, both of them look to see her looking down at the paper in her hands, lovingly. She looks back up at Eddie.

"Finally! Someone else detail oriented. I'm making copies of this." She sounds genuine as she waves the paper, smiling at Eddie. He flushes red and moves to sit on the steps again. When his hands stop shaking he helps Robin with the measurements.

She measures, he measures, Nancy and Steve cut.

It takes them two days. But they get it done. The ramp wraps around the side of the trailer, where Max's mom always parks. He bought some plywood as well, to put down on the ground, so Max's wheels wouldn't sink.

The first time she pushes Max down the ramp she nearly cries as she throws herself at Eddie. Hugs him tight and then apologizes when he huffs in pain. Max grabs his hand, looks up at him with her bright blue eyes, and kisses his arm. Just a little peck, smooching the bats on his skin. But he gets it. That's all she needs to do. He knows she's grateful.

Steve shows up at Eddie's trailer the day after they finish the ramp. His eyes are wild and he looks like he's been shoving his hands into his hair for a couple of hours. Eddie gets half way through asking what's wrong and then Steve is kissing him. They almost fall into the trailer with the force of it. Steve catches them, rights them, but doesn't let go of Eddie, just lets out a breathy,

"Sorry sorry." As he keeps them steady. Eddie just smiles dumbly at him. Wayne stands from the couch, clears his throat awkwardly and pats Eddie on the shoulder as he leaves, says,

"Told you them coveralls was lucky boy." He winks as he passes them. Eddie's laughter filling the trailer behind him as Steve's face goes crimson and he drops his head on Eddie's shoulder with a dramatic groan.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 ao3

When Robin and Eddie return to the trailer, Steve is still unconscious.

“Fuck, should we be worried that—how long can someone…?”

Eddie trails off, goes to check his watch reflexively before remembering that it’s stopped.

Robin shakes her head.

“This kinda thing happened, um. Before. I didn’t see much, but I… I don’t think… Billy Hargrove was completely—well. Steve had to, like, crash a car into him, and I, uh, sorta blacked out? For a bit of it? But he just walked it off, I think. Eventually. Billy, I mean. Like his body wasn’t fully… Like he didn’t really feel it.”

Eddie stares at her, reeling. A dozen thoughts scramble to be heard, many not helpful in the slightest—namely that Billy Hargrove stalked the basketball court like there was something seething within him every goddamn school day, so he can’t even imagine what that combined with the uncanny strength of The Mind Flayer would bring.

And the real major concern is—

“But Hargrove died.”

Robin looks up from where she’s been checking Steve’s head. Her fingertips are flecked with blood.

“He didn’t die from—he wasn’t killed by. By a person,” she says jerkily. “So we… we should be fine to…” She eyes the cistern lid, but her face drains of colour again.

Eddie exhales. “One problem at a time.”

He grabs Steve underneath the armpits, Robin holding his legs up.

They take him to the bedroom. Set him down, back leaning against the cabinet.

Eddie finds the handcuffs and gingerly attaches one end to a drawer handle, the other around Steve’s wrist.

Steve doesn’t even stir at the touch. His head lolls down unnaturally.

“They better not be the shitty plastic kind,” Robin says. “I’m not having him escape cause all you had was a Baby’s First Magic Set.”

Eddie’s startled into a weak chuckle.

“Excuse you, Buckley, these are the bona fide, genuine article.”

It had become a joke in the first place, actually keeping them. A year ago, maybe two. A girl from Loch Nora with a college boyfriend had either naively or intentionally thrown an open invite party—Eddie had only gone out of curiosity, wanting to see just how impressive the living space was.

He’d barely lasted an hour there, because a shithead of a ‘concerned’ neighbour called the cops on young people ‘loitering sinisterly’—as if their precious hydrangeas were in danger of being uprooted and sold.

Eddie got grouped in with a select lucky few accused of stealing. He hadn’t been, but he figured he might as well try and get something out of it. It was either Callahan’s wallet or his cuffs; Eddie picked the wrong pocket.

Now he thinks he actually lucked out, in a grim kind of way.

They take stock of everything they’ve got: lighter fluid; a couple space heaters discovered in the RV, another one found next to Wayne’s folding bed. A few bottles of alcohol along with cloths and spears. One walkie. Lighters.

Rope.

-

Nancy had left with Dustin in the RV. The plan had been for her to drop him off at the Creel House before returning to the Gate at the trailer.

But Eddie caught the steely glint in her eye as she readied herself in the driver’s seat.

Dustin sat by the table. He pinched his bottom lip between his fingers and tugged, harsh enough to draw blood. His hand was shaking.

Eddie couldn’t look at him.

He turned to Nancy.

“You’re not coming back,” he said in an undertone.

It was only once he’d spoken that he realised it didn’t come out as a question.

Nancy grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“Going to another Gate. Where Fred…”

Eddie understood: it was a last-minute change that she alone was in control of. One that Steve didn’t know.

And if Steve didn’t know, then…

The engine rumbled into life.

Eddie got out—had one last look, hand on the door. There were tanks of gasoline wedged behind Nancy’s seat.

Dread chilled him. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t be alone. That when she burned it all down, she needed someone to pull her back lest she get caught in the flames, too.

He didn’t say any of that.

Because Nancy just looked at him with something close to sympathy, as if she could tell everything he was thinking; it was already clear that whatever he said, it wouldn’t make a difference.

It didn’t stop him from trying.

“Nancy. Be careful.”

She nodded. “You too.”

Eddie shut the door behind him.

He was halfway back to the porch when he realised that the RV hadn’t pulled away. He heard the door opening again, began to turn, and was almost bowled over by the force of Dustin’s hug.

“Hey,” he said softly, once he’d caught his breath.

He ruffled Dustin’s hair and then stopped near the end of the motion, kept his hand there. Just held him.

He didn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t.

Dustin sniffed. He pulled back and finally looked Eddie right in the eye.

“We’ll get him back,” Dustin said.

His voice wavered in the middle. But his determination was much stronger than the falter had been.

Eddie put his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. Nodded.

It was obvious that when it came to Steve Harrington, Dustin would go to the ends of the earth for him. And here he was, doing the hardest thing in the world: leaving Steve behind.

Compared to everyone else, Eddie thought, his job was simple, really. All he had to do was prove Dustin’s trust in him.

-

Steve’s face twitches when Robin shuts the window.

Eddie watches closely, holding his breath.

One eye opens, barely a slit. Moves sluggishly before finding Eddie.

“Hi,” Steve says.

He sounds… normal.

“Hi,” Eddie echoes cautiously. “Are you—um. Are you…?”

He trails off, feeling immensely stupid. What was he even gonna ask? Are you okay? Like he honestly was expecting Steve to say, Oh, could be better, but the malevolent entity inside me is a fucking bummer, man.

“How’re you feeling?” he settles on, because Steve still hasn’t moved, at least seems in control, and Eddie’ll take any semblance of normality he can get.

“M’okay,” Steve says, after a pause.

He lifts his head up slightly, notices the handcuffs. Gives a faint nod of approval. With his free hand, he gestures vaguely to the back of his skull.

“Feels… distant. I dunno.”

“Good, uh, that’s good,” Eddie says conversationally, like that will take away the reality of what he’s currently doing: tying Steve’s legs together with rope.

Both of Steve’s eyes open, his gaze turns sharper, calculating, and Eddie tenses—

“Eddie,” Steve drawls. He sounds supremely unimpressed. He shifts his legs and the knot Eddie made goes slack. “Tighter, dude.” “Oh, I’m sorry, not of all of us got our Scout’s badge.”

“Here,” Robin says. She nudges Eddie out of the way and binds Steve’s legs; the knots don’t budge. She gives a half smile. “At least Starcourt was educational.”

Steve laughs through his nose, but he grimaces a bit, like something Robin’s said is distasteful.

She puts a hand on his knee, peers at him. “Still here,” she says.

It isn’t a question, but Steve answers anyway. “Still here.”

Robin ties his free hand to another drawer handle.

Eddie catches a glimpse while he’s turning on the heaters, and his stomach twists—unbidden, thinks of Christ on the cross.

Steve nods at the heaters. “Put ‘em closer.”

Eddie does. He keeps waiting for a change, ready to leap back, but it doesn’t come. The only difference is that the pulse point in Steve’s neck starts to jump rapidly when the heaters are tilted towards him, but even that’s nothing like before, nothing like the frenzy in the bathroom.

Eddie puts his palm in front of one of the grilles. It’s only just been turned on, sure, but he can’t help thinking that it’s not nearly strong enough.

He stands in front of Steve, Robin by his side.

No-one moves.

Then Robin speaks out the side of her mouth. “Should you still…?”

Her fingers curl, palm up, and Eddie realises that she’s mimicking fret positions.

“Yeah,” Steve says before Eddie can answer, and Robin jumps. “Should still work.” His cuffed hand twitches. “S’in… Vecna. Me. Not enough… can’t control bats, too. Not—not all of ‘em at once.”

His throat clicks as he swallows, like the words are getting stuck.

“Should follow. Like… like, um.” His eyes widen for a split second, as if in panic, before he swallows again and says, a little clearer, “Pied Piper.”

Eddie glances between Steve and Robin. “Okay,” he says eventually. He steps back while Robin remains where she is. “I’ll—”

“No,” Steve says, and this time the panic remains; he shakes his head urgently. “Not alone. Don’t—not alone with—with me.”

“Steve,” Robin says.

“No,” Steve repeats, and there’s a fierceness to the word—Eddie feels it thrum in his chest, and he somehow knows that it’s not from any unnatural force, that the power is being drawn from Steve alone.

“Buckley,” Eddie says reluctantly.

She squares her shoulders. Takes a step back, eyes never leaving Steve.

Something in Steve unwinds, relaxes. His head droops, almost like he’s falling asleep. A stark vein in his neck pulses.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good.”

Robin pauses at the door. Her eyes dart to the heaters, then Eddie.

“Are they…?”

“Highest they’ll go,” Eddie says.

Robin bites her lip.

Eddie knows what she’s thinking: that Nancy said unbearable, and right now barely one corner of the room is being warmed.

“It just takes time to, uh, kick in,” Eddie says.

It doesn’t sound convincing—sounds like he’s free-falling, desperately searching for something to hang onto.

But Robin accepts it, Eddie thinks, because what choice does she have? What choice do any of them have?

“Eddie,” Steve says, just as Robin’s stepped out of the room.

“Yeah?”

Steve wets his lips. Swallows again. It looks painful.

“It’s gonna… make him mad.”

Fear seeps down Eddie’s spine.

“We’ll come back,” he says, because right now, it’s the only promise he can make. “We’re not leaving you alone.”

“S’okay,” Steve says. He’s starting to slur his words. “Better this way.”

-

They tumble through the Gate as quickly as they can, then immediately set up the trailer defences.

“We’re lucky this is here,” Eddie says when they’re done, as he picks his electric guitar off the wall, untouched by vines.

“Yeah,” Robin says. “Lucky…”

She abruptly gasps and runs from the room.

Eddie curses, follows her—flinging the guitar across his back.

But there’s nothing in the living room, no bats to fight—just Robin pulling something out from behind Wayne’s bed, laughing with a touch of hysteria.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes, “you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Then he actually processes what he’s looking at. Robin’s brought out a space heater, a bulky kerosene-fuelled one, much larger than what they’d originally rustled up.

“But that—that broke last winter,” Eddie says, bewildered.

Robin doesn’t say anything, just turns it on. The effect is almost immediate compared to what they’ve been working with: the heater glows red-hot, and Eddie already feels the urge to take off his jacket.

“Eddie,” Robin says slowly. “It’s 1983.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. He grabs her by the shoulders. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Robin turns the heater off, drags it to a point just underneath the Gate.

There’s a couple more treasures they manage to stash away: a match box found on the counter, thrown into a deep cooking pot Robin snatches from a cupboard.

“Oh, you mean business,” Eddie says. “That’s the good pot.”

Robin grins, and it makes Eddie’s heart ache—he knows what they’re doing, forcing smiles to hide their shaking hands.

“And what goddamn atrocity befalls it in the future?”

“That’s between me and God.”

They’re up on the roof, Robin crouched by the amp, when Eddie hears the Walkie crackle.

“Max is—bait’s still been taken,” comes Erica’s staticky voice.

“Uh, copy that,” Eddie says. “Sinclair. Henderson with you?”

A click.

“I’m here,” Dustin says quietly.

Eddie breathes out. “Good. Stick together.”

He sets the walkie down and yanks off his guitar pick. He thinks of Chrissy, her body contorting. Of Patrick, dragged from the water.

Steve’s hands clenched around the sink.

“Showtime, Buckley.”

The noise is explosive. It barely takes a few seconds for the bats to start coming; Eddie watches the horizon as his fingers fly over the strings.

Underneath everything, he can hear Robin counting out bars like she’s in band: One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four.

Prestissimo.

“Eddie, two more bars!”

He nods in acknowledgement. Feels his heart pound as if in time with the music.

“Now!”

They run. The bats circle dumbly round the roof, some clustered onto the still ringing amp, like moths drawn to light.

Pied Piper.

“Go, go, go!” Eddie urges.

It’s tricky getting the heater through, but they manage it between them, an awkward handover across the Gate.

And then Eddie’s falling, landing next to Robin, breathless. They sit up as one, give each other a speechless high five.

Robin moves first. But she stops midway to Eddie’s room—like a reversal of when he was first brought to a standstill, seeing Chrissy’s eyelids fluttering erratically.

“Eddie,” Robin says. “You—you closed the door, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, mouth dry.

He knows that for certain because as he shut the door, his last glimpse was of Steve leaning the back of his head against the cabinet drawers, eyes closed.

Now the door’s ajar.

Eddie strains to listen, but he can’t hear anything.

He feels Robin’s hand dart into his. He squeezes tight before letting go. She picks up the heater. He’s got the cooking pot under his arm.

Together, they open the door.

The space heaters they’d left are broken, cracked down the middle. The handcuffs are dangling from the drawer handle, pried open, the ropes frayed apart—and the whole room is littered with…

Shards of wood. Snapped strings.

Eddie’s guitars. They’re shattered beyond repair, the red of the Warlock mixed with the dark wood of the acoustic.

And there, backed into the far corner, is Steve.

He’s cradling his wrist to his chest—it looks badly broken. Even from here, Eddie can see evidence of splinters embedded in both hands.

But above all, what’s drawing Eddie’s attention is that his shirt is off, revealing the state of his stomach, the bandages shoddily ripped away. The wound is oozing slow, thick trickles of black and red.

Steve doesn’t seem aware that anyone’s entered the room, just mutters indecipherably to himself, hair hanging down in front of his eyes.

Eddie manages to set the pot down silently—takes one hesitant step forward, cringes when he jostles a piece of wood.

Steve’s head jerks up at the sound. He stares at Eddie, a crease in his forehead.

“Who’re you?”

Robin lets out a breath like she’s been punched in the stomach.

“It’s…” Eddie clears his throat. Stays as still as he can. “It’s me, man. It’s Eddie.”

Steve doesn’t reply.

More wood scatters across the floor—Robin stepping forward frantically, “Steve, it’s me, it’s—”

Eddie stops her with a touch to the back of her hand.

“Steve,” he says, digs deep to find a calm tone. “Who’s this?”

Steve’s jaw works.

“R… R…”

Robin’s face shatters.

She sets the heater down. Turns it on full blast.

“Robin!” Steve gasps. “Robin, it’s me, I’m still—Robin, Robin, please—”

Robin takes another step—“Careful,” Eddie whispers, heart in his throat—and forcibly shoves the heater across the room.

Steve tries to dodge it, but he’s not quick enough; the grille slams against his arm, and Eddie inhales sharply as the skin blisters an angry, weeping red.

Steve’s cries are piercing.

But they reach a peak than taper off into whimpers; he presses himself against the wall, curls his upper body around his blistered arm.

He starts to sob.

They have to get closer to hear, stepping into the circle of heat radiating from the grille, Eddie just behind Robin; sweat pools in the small of his back.

“No, no…”

It’s a dreadful whisper.

They crouch down. Slow.

It doesn’t look like Steve notices: his eyes are shut tight, lashes damp as he continues to plead, “Don’t make me. Please don’t make me.”

Eddie can’t blame Robin for what she does next.

It’s instinct—he’d seen it in his peripheral vision at the boathouse, her hand reaching out to comfort, like she couldn’t stop herself.

No, he can’t blame her. Because Steve is hurting, sobbing like his heart is going to break from it, and he’s right there.

Robin’s hand moves forward.

Eddie sees the moment Steve’s eyes open, cold and inhuman, and Christ, for a millisecond too long, he’d forgotten that they had stepped into the ring with a cobra.

“Robin,” Eddie warns, too late, as Steve’s hand seizes her wrist.

“Don’t worry,” he says, and it’s almost perfect, almost Steve’s gentle concern, but there’s something off in the inflection, a misplaced note—“I’m not killing you first.”

He twists Robin’s hand.

She doesn’t scream, doesn’t even try to move, like she’s holding her breath just to stay silent.

“I can…” Steve breathes in and out through his nose. Predatory. “I can feel her.”

“Who?” Robin says.

A vague noise rumbles from Steve’s chest, like he’s searching for a name again.

“N… Nancy,” he says eventually. “She’s dying,” he says, off-hand. “She can’t breathe.”

Eddie reaches behind. Feels carpet beneath his palm. Steve doesn’t track the movement, eyes fixed on Robin.

“She will be like… like her friend. She will know how it feels to die alone.”

Steve grunts, and then…

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from making a sound; the skin around Steve’s stomach wound ripples, like there’s something bubbling up underneath, moving, alive, crawling up, up, up—mottled veins spreading, black as tar.

Eddie swallows back bile as his hand finds something solid. Wood.

He feels for the lighter in his pocket.

Steve leans towards Robin, baring his teeth.

“I will—”

Click.

“—consume her.”

The jagged piece of guitar burns in Eddie’s hand.

He throws it.

Sparks fly, land directly in Steve’s eyes, and he yells, lets go of Robin—with such an impact that she’s thrown across the room, landing slumped against the cabinet.

“Robin!”

But Eddie doesn’t have any time to help her, because there’s another click, a crackle, and the walkie comes to life, and it must be on accident because all he can hear is the sound of someone—Dustin and Erica—breathing quickly. Running.

Steve’s eyes narrow.

Eddie thinks of Dustin saying, “He knows where we are, he’ll know—”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses.

He tries, desperately, to turn the walkie off, but it suddenly feels like all the air leaves his lungs, and he’s pinned against the wall, Steve’s hand on his chest.

The walkie’s wedged between them. Steve’s somehow using his broken wrist to still Eddie’s hand, to keep the walkie turned on.

Eddie has no choice but to listen to what comes through the static.

It’s chaos. Heavy, frantic breathing; it’s like he can feel the kids clutching their sides as they run. In the distance, a car, the engine stopping. A door opens.

Jason Carver’s voice. “Did you see them?”

Behind Steve, Eddie spots Robin stirring.

Steve keeps staring down at the walkie.

An abrupt cry of pain, and another voice curses, says, “Shit, Jason, I think it’s broken.”

“El?” Dustin breathes.

Something in Steve’s face flickers, but Eddie’s too terrified to know what it means—tries and fails to turn the walkie off again, but he doesn’t even know what’s the right thing to do anymore. He just wants them to be okay, he just wants—

“Jason, no-one’s fucking there. You—you can’t even stand, I’m taking you to the hosp—”

A car door slamming shut. An engine starting up, fading…

Gone.

Dustin and Erica exhale shakily. Running again, footsteps pounding up the stairs, across floorboards…

The walkie cuts off.

Steve grits his teeth.

“Please,” Eddie whispers.

Robin’s up, moving so quietly—scooping the remnants of his guitars into the pot.

Another crackle.

“Eddie!” Dustin’s voice again, up close. “Max is—the music’s not working! I—I don’t know what to—”

There it is again: that flicker across Steve’s face. A ripple in a lake.

“Max,” he says.

The name cracks with emotion, and although his voice has been used before, an uncanny imitation, Eddie knows this is different, feels it in his gut; it’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

The snick of a match being struck.

Steve’s head tilts ever so slightly, but he doesn’t turn around. Like he already knows Robin is right behind him.

Instead—

Steve pries the walkie out of Eddie’s hand. Presses down on the button. Inhales.

“Run.”

The walkie drops with a clatter. Behind them, the fierce roar of flames; Eddie’s face stings.

He can feel Steve’s grip on him loosening, feels himself sliding down the wall.

Steve’s eyes bore into his—and although dark veins have spread across the whites, like spider webs, Eddie can still see the slightest gleam of something real in them.

Something human.

Steve’s lips move, cracked and bleeding.

Now, he mouths.

“Robin!” Eddie yells.

Steve lets him go, and Eddie sees a flash of Robin throwing the entire contents of the pot over Steve, raining fire upon him; Eddie covers his face from the scorching heat, scrambling to get away, relying on touch alone, and his hand hits something, the crunch of plastic, fuck, the walkie—

He’s by the doorway, gasping for breath.

Awareness comes in stages: the fire’s gone out, charred remains of the guitars on the ground where Steve once stood; Robin’s there, her hands red raw, and she’s looking at something, what’s she…?

Steve.

Steve dragging himself across the floor, his broken wrist pressed against his stomach. Crawling to sit next to the space heater, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. Breathing.

Just breathing.

Then, so faintly, Eddie almost thinks he’s imagined it.

“Railroad… Snow Ball… Muppet.”

Steve thumps the back of his head against the wall with each word.

Robin goes to him.

Eddie can only watch. He feels like he’s staring at a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

Despite everything, Robin reaches out with her hand again. She touches Steve’s knee gently, and Steve falls silent, stops hitting his head.

Robin smiles, tearful.

“You’ve—you’ve changed that song for me forever,” she says, choked up, and although Eddie can’t really understand, he senses the heart in it, the echoes of their story, of their love hitting him square in the chest.

“Do you remember,” Robin goes on, laughing through it, “the first time we were closing, and you—you got that whole bag of chocolate chips? Tore the corner and just, like, scarfed it. You looked like a chipmunk. It was—it was so gross. And you just said let’s see you do better, then. So we just kept eating them, and we had to pretend we had, like, a whole week where every order had chocolate chips just so we could get another shipment. You… you made me feel like I was five years old. That’s—that’s when I knew.” Robin takes a shuddering breath. Keeps smiling. “Right there. I wanted to be your friend.”

Steve just looks at her. He blinks, and a tear falls down his face, and Eddie can see it, like the sun briefly appearing through storm clouds, can see more of him breaking through, and for a moment, just a moment, there could be a chance, please, please…

Steve’s stomach spasms, and he groans, inhales short and sharp, twists away from Robin’s touch; the litany starts again, fever-slurred.

Eddie rediscovers the walkie. There’s cracks all through the plastic—it might not even work.

But Steve keens, pressing, pressing as blood flows through his fingers, as he trips up on the words, almost insensible now, and Eddie knows he has to take the risk.

His thumb pushes the button.

“Dustin,” he murmurs, “don’t tell me where you are. But if you’re—if you’re safe. Christ, please say you’re… Steve, he—he needs you.”

Silence.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“—safe. We’re all safe. I copy.”

Eddie thinks he laughs or something close to it. Maybe something else, too. He presses his forehead against the walkie. A benediction answered.

“Eddie?” Dustin says, and his speech keeps crackling, keeps threatening to cut out, but he’s there, he’s there.

Steve blinks, turns towards the sound of Dustin’s voice.

But Eddie’s not afraid this time.

“Railroad,” Steve repeats. Soft yet intentional, like he means it with everything he has left. “Railroad.”

Eddie passes the word on to Dustin. Waits.

Dustin takes a little while to figure it out—or maybe he solves it almost instantly, but here, time moves slow: just Robin and Eddie holding their breath, Steve only mouthing the words now. Barely there.

Dustin must push his button down mid-gasp, the words rushing out.

“That’s how we—that’s when everything—”

What follows is a garbled speech Eddie can barely make sense of, as static obscures every third word or so: about the junkyard and demodogs, and tunnels, and…

“D-different details, Henderson,” Eddie says with a choked laugh.

Fondness wells up; for a second it had felt like he was listening to Dustin in the middle of a campaign, on a tangent, and Eddie knows he just has to nudge him down the right path and then he’ll work it out, because the kid’s a goddamn genius.

“Stuff he can feel,” Eddie tries.

Steve looks at him, unblinking, and God he’s still in there, Eddie thinks, there’s so many thoughts, so much of him trapped beneath the surface.

So Dustin talks about Queen playing in Steve’s car, of how the fall leaves looked as they walked, of his shoelaces coming loose, and Steve getting down on his knees in exaggerated exasperation, you’re gonna fall flat on your face, dickhead, we’ve got enough going on.

Eddie takes the thread he’s been given, adds embellishments where he can—the crunch of leaves underfoot, the steady clunk of walking on the tracks, Dustin sometimes hurrying a little, just to match Steve’s stride—and as Steve finally blinks slowly, Eddie prays.

Can you feel it? Please go there. Go somewhere safe. Go somewhere it can’t find you. “What—what else did he say?” Robin says, when Steve lips stops moving, and his eyes close; he looks so tired. “Snow Ball?”

“Yeah, that’s—” Eddie pushes the walkie button again, so Dustin can hear. “Didn’t the Middle School have something… Did you do anything for it? Like put up decorations or…?”

Robin shakes her head.

Eddie furiously racks his brains for one detail, anything—curses himself for not paying attention, for shirking the ‘volunteering’ he was forced to do that December in lieu of detention; for viewing it all with a petty indifference, when for others, it must’ve meant so—

He releases the button.

“Did you say Snow Ball?” Dustin asks, before he launches into Steve shielding his eyes from hairspray, of the forest green gift bag his mom had passed into Steve’s hands, of Steve’s surprise, his shy smile—and then it’s Erica who takes over, calling over somewhere, “Lucas, remember when we came to pick you up?”

And the Sinclairs had stayed much longer than expected because Max’s folks were late in collecting her; and when Steve came to pick up Dustin, he’d noticed and stayed, too.

“He didn’t make a big thing of it,” Max says quietly, somewhere distant; Lucas adds that Steve opened up all his car doors so the tape he was playing could be heard: The Carpenters, some Christmas medley.

“He danced with Max,” Lucas says. “We were betting on how many times he could spin her in a row.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Eddie can hear Max’s eye roll. Her smile.

“And,” Erica says, “he actually enjoyed dad’s small talk. Like, he was fully hooked on mom and Uncle Jack’s gift wrapping contest.”

Eddie smiles, covers his mouth just in case a traitorous noise slips out. The kids sound happy, and he doesn’t want to ruin that for the world.

Steve’s eyes shine, almost like he’s thinking the same thing.

Sorry, he mouths. I’m sorry.

The walkie dies.

Steve groans again, pushing down on his stomach wound. He’s trying to hide it from view, Eddie realises.

Robin keeps reaching for him. “Steve, don’t—let me help. Please.”

Steve shakes his head. “Can’t—can’t hold it back.” His voice is rasping.

“I saw you,” Eddie says, and Robin glances at him. “Last year. At school.”

The memory comes to him all at once, sparked by the kids and the thought of Steve chatting in a parking lot, so at ease.

“I was pissed ‘cause I’d just flunked—doesn’t matter. Was walking it off outside, and you turned into the parking lot, windows down, and you looked so fucking pleased with yourself cause you’d already passed everything. You must’ve had a free period, maybe a double, I dunno. I was,” Eddie huffs self-deprecatingly, “jealous.”

Steve’s head slumps against the wall. His chest rises and falls rapidly, laden with sweat. Eddie tries not to look at the marks—where the burning pieces of wood struck his skin.

Steve’s eyes find his. One long blink.

Keep going.

“You—you were wearing these sunglasses,” Eddie says, and Robin sobs, laughs, like she knows exactly the pair he means. “And you—the radio was on, but I—I can’t remember what was—anyway, you were kinda. Singing. Or, like, humming to yourself. And you were walking to the middle school, you kept throwing your keys in the air. You caught ‘em every damn time.” Eddie chuckles. “Do you know how annoying that was? And I—I just kept watching, ‘till the bell rang, and I just didn’t get it. Didn’t get why you looked so… so happy. But I—” Eddie swallows. “I know now.”

Steve’s mouth tilts, not quite a smile—he’s trying, he’s trying.

“You were gonna go see the kids, huh?” Eddie says. “Surprise them or something, I don’t know. You can tell me later. Promise me? And you—” His voice threatens to go, but he pushes through it, because if there’s one thing Steve needs to hear, it’s this.

Just this.

“You were happy. Because you loved them,” Eddie whispers. “And they loved you.”

Steve breathes in.

And he rises up so suddenly that Robin falls back in alarm. He hits the space heater as he goes, and while it still blisters his skin, he doesn’t cringe away, more deliberately leans into it—

“Quick,” Steve mutters. “He’s mad, he’s mad, we don’t have much—”

And he lies down directly on the bed frame, his stomach still oozing that viscous black and red; Eddie’s stomach drops.

He feels strange, like his body already knows what’s coming before his mind’s caught up.

“Quick, quick—”

The smash of a bottle as Steve fumbles it, spilling alcohol on the floor—he tries again, reaches for lighter fluid and douses the whole bed frame in it.

“Robin,” he says, “Robin, please.”

She’s watching Steve’s every move with wide eyes; Eddie just looks on helplessly.

Fucking move.

“Robin!”

“Steve, I—” She shakes her head, uncomprehending—more like she doesn’t want to understand. “I don’t—”

Steve doubles over, picks something off the floor. Eddie’s distracted—stupid, stupid—watching in horror as more black veins spread up, across Steve’s shoulders, the strained muscles in his neck, and too late, he realises that Steve’s holding a lighter in his hand.

Click.

Steve drops it.

Sets the wooden slats ablaze.

He cries out, back arching—the flames lick higher, higher, and Robin’s screaming Steve’s name, running to him, like she can pull him from the flames…

There’s something else in Steve’s hand.

Robin’s trapped where she’s stood, a broken piece of glass to her neck—and Steve’s struggling against it, but his hand doesn’t move, as beads of blood dot Robin’s skin—

Eddie doesn’t know when it happened. Just knows that he’s holding a spear, and it’s on fire too, flames creeping up…

“Eddie!” Steve says. “Finish it!”

His skin writhes, contorting; Eddie thinks of Chrissy again, of Patrick—and a faint memory of Will Byers, vanishing without a trace.

It was you, Eddie thinks numbly. It was all you.

The glass presses closer still against Robin’s neck. She gasps—

And Steve begs.

“Kill me!”

The stomach wound heaves like a living creature, gaping and monstrous.

“Give him back, you son of a bitch,” Eddie breathes.

He lunges forward.

With all his strength, he digs the spear straight into Steve’s stomach; the flames surge, engulf—

Steve screams.

A black mass pours out of his mouth, and Eddie thinks he’s screaming, too, but he can’t hear anything, can’t hear anything but Steve, the torture in his voice, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and the mass hits him; he flies through the air, feels his head smack against something solid.

Then nothing.

He comes to in the living room. Blood dampens the back of his head.

Sits up. Blinks dazedly at the ceiling. The Gate… the Gate’s gone.

Bedroom. Has to… Steve, Robin. Bedroom.

He shoves himself up, wobbles. Forces himself on.

He knows he’s lost time when he nears the room: a chill hits him from the broken window, and the flames have been put out.

Robin. Robin kneeling by the bed, burns all up her arms.

“—open your eyes,” she’s saying. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

Eddie very deliberately doesn’t fully register who she’s talking to. If he does, he’ll freeze, useless. He will never forgive himself.

“Band lungs, Buckley,” he croaks, and then he falls beside her.

Starts compressions.

You’re not going, you’re not going. You’ve got so many people to see again. No. You’re not going.

He tries just to count out loud, but even as he’s doing it, something crumbles, something breaks apart irreparably inside of him, “Don’t you dare leave, don’t you…”

Robin. Two breaths.

“I wanna talk to you, Steve Harrington, and you’re gonna fucking be there to listen, do you understand, do you…”

He loses track of what he’s saying completely, lost to wilder and wilder promises, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except this, except the desperate push of his hands, the crack of Steve’s ribs, Robin’s long breaths; and God, Eddie would give anything, anything at all, would tear his fucking heart out if it would help, if it meant that Steve would—

“—just breathe!”

Something jolts underneath his fingers; for a moment, it destroys him: it’s back, it’s—

“That’s it,” Robin’s saying, “there, there, that’s—”

Eddie’s head sinks down to his knees.

Wretched coughs. Gasping.

“He can’t—Eddie, he can’t breathe.”

Eddie staggers over to the window. Makes the hole bigger, again and again. Glass slices through his palms.

“That’s better, huh?” Robin’s murmuring, and Eddie can’t look at her, can’t look at who’s in her arms; if he does, the proof will shatter, and that can’t… he has to…

The phone rings.

Eddie goes to it. His arm lifts, heavy and delayed. Like he’s in a dream.

On the other end, a terrified voice.

Mike. Mike Wheeler crying.

“Did it work?”

“I—” There’s a high-pitched ringing in Eddie’s ears; he shakes his head. “I don’t—”

“I-is Nancy there? Where’s Nancy?”

And there’s that gut feeling again, the one that pulled Eddie out of the RV in the first place; “Hang on,” he says to Mike, and he lets the phone fall, pushes the front door open to stand on the porch, breathing in shallow, frigid breaths.

There’s something coming out from behind the trees.

Closer and closer, and Eddie almost assumes the worst.

But it’s Nancy. There’s ash in her hair, and she’s drenched, coated in black sludge; her teeth flash as she smiles, a pocket knife gleaming in her hand.

“I made my own Gate,” she says.

Barely missing a beat, she tilts her head to the side to throw up. She wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve, spreads more thick tar across her face.

Underneath everything, there’s a scarlet ring around her throat.

“Your brother,” is all Eddie can get out.

Her eyes blaze white-hot.

“Mike,” she says, clutching the phone so tightly, like she would do the very same if she could hold his hand. “It’s gone, it’s all gone.” And then, louder, louder, trembling, “And whoever’s fucking listening on here, get us help. I know you’re there. I won’t stop. I won’t—”

Eddie knows she says more. She must do.

But he can’t stop staring down at his hands. At the blood.

He steps forward—almost sways, and Nancy catches his wrist.

“Don’t go outside without me. Don’t talk to anyone apart from us, Eddie. Okay? They won’t touch you. I won’t let them.”

Eddie thinks he manages a nod. He believes her. Her jaw quivers, but her head’s held up high: if a gun was pressed to her head, he knows the bullet wouldn’t take.

The phone call continues, but the sound is muffled, underwater.

Eddie comes back to himself in the bedroom doorway.

Robin’s still by the bed.

Steve’s lying there, eyes closed. His stomach’s still bleeding, slow, slow, but the veins have gone, they’ve…

“Eddie.” Robin reaches out a hand to him. “Come on. You… you can feel him breathing from here.”

Why don’t you hate me?

He should leave. He should leave.

He doesn’t deserve…

But Robin keeps reaching, and Eddie’s on his knees next to her, a coward, you’re a fucking coward.

“Here,” Robin says.

She guides Eddie’s hand. Places it on Steve’s sternum, above the awful wound, above all the pain Eddie caused—

There. A rise and fall.

Just breathing.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“I thought—” He shudders. “I thought I’d—”

Robin must sense it before he does, before he even really knows it’s happening.

“You’re okay,” she says, and she pulls him into her embrace—keeps one hand on Steve as she does.

Good, Eddie thinks. He needs to know you’re there. He shouldn’t be alone.

He turns his face into Robin’s shoulder, and weeps.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna be your sin

for @subeddieweek day five with the prompts rimming and possessive steve

rated e | 2,473 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr Day four: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

If being friends with Steve was easy, being loved by him was a piece of cake.

It would probably scare someone else, the way Steve loved. He gave everything, more than what Eddie felt he deserved. It was overwhelming at times, to be the focal point of all of Steve’s affection.

He showed up at Eddie’s house with flowers before their first date. And their second. And for their third, he brought him homemade cookies.

Fucking homemade cookies.

And every single time, he acted like it brightened his day to be able to provide these things to Eddie. Like if he couldn’t bring him flowers or cookies or kiss him or hold him, he’d crumble into a million pieces and cease to exist.

It was easy to love him back, too.

To play with his fingers in the car and lean his head on his shoulder, to get lost in the time they spent together until Wayne was opening the door to the trailer with his knowing smile and wave as Steve just waved back from his spot on the couch holding Eddie’s hand.

They weren’t stupid, though.

Their dates were usually places where two young guys could be caught hanging out without drawing suspicion, even if those two guys happened to be Eddie and Steve. If it wasn’t the diner or the bowling alley, or even the record store Steve had taken him to on their first date, they were in secret hiding spots around Hawkins, spending every moment they could giving in to temptation.

But sometimes they ventured outside their comfort zone.

Steve was Dustin’s chauffeur from Hellfire Club since his mom’s promotion that led her to working much later during the week.

They hadn’t exactly told anyone about what they were to each other, had barely even mentioned they were friends to anyone other than Robin, but Steve was insistent that no one would think anything if he just…hung out during Hellfire.

Eddie didn’t really have the heart to tell him that every single person in the room would be highly suspicious of anyone being allowed to stay and watch as Eddie had always been incredibly protective of their space and never let anyone watch who wasn’t inducted into Hellfire.

Steve sat in the corner of the room, only receiving a few concerned looks from the group at first. Most of the confusion was directed at Eddie.

When they took their usual five minute bathroom break, Gareth pulled him aside and questioned him.

“Dude. The hell.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Harrington? I know he’s Dustin’s second mom or whatever, but is it really necessary for him to be here? Doesn’t he have a job or something?” Gareth glanced over at Steve, who was looking back at both of them with a fire in his eyes.

Eddie ignored the way that look made him feel and crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow at Gareth.

“Isn’t the point of Hellfire to welcome the lost sheep? No judgment?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And wouldn’t you think it rude to assume Steve doesn’t deserve to have some friends?”

“But he-”

“Everything okay over here?” Steve’s voice was right next to Eddie’s ear, and his hand was on his hip, squeezing.

Eddie’s mouth snapped closed, eyes widening as he watched Gareth’s gaze drop to where Steve was touching him and back up to Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, man. Just checking in on our friend, here,” Gareth gave Steve a fake smile before turning and walking away.

Steve’s hand didn’t drop and Eddie was certain that if he didn’t move in the next 10 seconds, they’d have a lot of explaining to do that Steve probably wasn’t ready for.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked, his face a mask of friendliness.

“Gareth? My best friend for three years? He always bothers me, but it’s nothing like that.” Eddie tapped Steve’s hand as a reminder that he should probably move it, but he just tightened his grip. “Um, you okay?”

Steve’s breath was warm against his jaw as he leaned in close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “I’m great, sweet boy.”

The reaction was instant. And really fucking inconvenient.

Hearing those words from Steve now, when he still had an hour of a campaign to run, with children making their way back to the table, was enough to make him call it all off.

Fuck Hellfire. He needed Steve to fuck him.

Steve patted his ass twice before walking away, smiling to himself as he went back to his seat to watch Eddie deal with this sudden need to have Steve.

And then he just…carried on. Like it was nothing to have Steve’s hand on him one minute, his voice against his ear, and then go back to being the big, bad DM the next. He was a pretty good actor, but even he had his limits when Steve’s eyes were on him.

Even he could tell he was a little off after the break, and the knowing looks from Gareth and confused looks from the rest of them just emphasized how much he needed to get his shit together. This was his best campaign ever, and he knew he needed to roll into Christmas break with a cliffhanger that made everyone desperate to get back.

Steve watched the clock, then looked at Eddie, watching him fondly, but with a certain hunger in his eyes that was nowhere near appropriate for others to see.

“And as you crawl your way under the fence, mud and sweat coating your skin, you see a faint light coming towards you from a distance. Your entire group freezes and waits to see if you’ve been found. You breathe slowly, just enough to not pass out. The light gets closer.” Eddie stands from his chair, leaning over the table to blow out the candle. “The candle goes out. A voice yells down to you. ‘Come at once or die.’”

Eddie sits back in his chair and folds his hand across his stomach, waiting for the table to catch up that he was done.

“That can’t be it!” Lucas yelled.

“Eddie, you said you weren’t gonna end it on a cliffhanger!” Mike pouted.

“I never said such a thing and if I ever did, you should’ve known I was lying.” Eddie stood again, folding his DM notes up and picking up his personal minifigures to store in his bag. “We’ll pick up the first week back in the new year. Everyone go home and enjoy Christmas because there’s a chance some of you may perish on your journey here.”

Everyone grumbled except for Gareth, who was oddly quiet as they all cleaned up their own character sheets and minifigures. He kept glancing between Steve and Eddie, brows furrowed, like if he concentrated hard enough, something would make more sense to him.

Steve stood as the older kids filed out, driving themselves home or hitching rides with each other. Nancy was already outside waiting for Mike and Lucas, so they rushed out of the room, barely saying goodbye.

Dustin didn’t seem to notice or care that Steve and Eddie were staring at each other, that Eddie’s hands were practically shaking with anticipation for what was coming. Hopefully, he would be.

“Oh, mom told me to tell you that she made extra of that casserole you like so you can bring some back home with you when you drop me off,” he said as he finished packing up his bag.

“Sounds good, dude,” Steve said, not taking his eyes from Eddie.

Eddie could feel his face flushing, wondered how he could get Steve out of there before he did something stupid like kiss him in front of their shared child.

“You guys gonna kill each other or make out?” Dustin asked, not really looking at either of them, standing by the door to leave. “If you’re done, I have a curfew to make whether my mom’s home or not.”

Steve tossed Dustin his keys. “Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute. And I’ll know if you try to start her. Passenger seat only.”

Dustin knew better than to argue when it came to Steve’s car, so he nodded once and booked it from the room.

The moment they heard the main door to the auditorium slam shut, Steve was on him, pushing him back in his seat and looming over him with a deadly smile.

Eddie’s cock was straining against his jeans, rubbing against the zipper in a way that felt too good for him to be in public, especially when he knew Steve wasn’t gonna do anything about it.

“Unbutton your pants.”

Steve’s tone was cool, but Eddie knew him well enough to hear how much he was struggling to maintain composure.

What had he done to make Steve want him like this? Now?

“Here?” Eddie asked, looking around the room.

Steve’s hand cupped his jaw and turned it back to face him.

“Here.”

Eddie knew when to be a brat and now was not it.

He unbuttoned his pants with shaking hands, letting his cock feel a single moment of relief before Steve’s grip around it was rough, nearly too hard to feel good.

“Pull them down.”

“Steve-”

“Now. Unless you wanna stop. You know what to say if you do.”

Obviously, Eddie wasn’t going to stop. He trusted Steve, he trusted that Steve would never put him in any danger, and if Steve felt safe enough to do this here and now, then Eddie could let him have what he needed.

Eddie tugged his pants and boxers down to his thighs. He ignored the twinge in his back at the uncomfortable angle, focusing on Steve’s eyes on him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watched Eddie fumble.

“Turn around. On your knees.”

Eddie turned around, got on his knees.

“Lean forward.”

Eddie leaned forward.

Steve dropped to his knees and gripped Eddie’s hips. His nose brushed against the tail of his spine, breath leaving pinpricks of moisture behind. Or was that sweat? Had it gotten hotter in here?

“What if Dustin comes back in?”

“He won’t. He never has free access to my car.” Steve’s lips brushed against his skin, and Eddie realized just before it happened what Steve’s plan was.

Steve’s tongue trailed down the crack of his ass, hot and wet, spit mixing with the beginnings of sweat from his two hours of excitement. He’d showered that morning, but that morning was a long time ago.

He tried not to tense his body or pull away, but Steve noticed everything.

“Eds, color.” Steve was giving him enough space to think, to concentrate on an answer. They weren’t really playing in that space, but it was an easy way for Eddie to figure out if he actually wanted to keep going regardless of them taking on their roles or him floating into space.

“Um. Yellow,” he admitted quietly. He so rarely said anything besides green, and usually only when he was incredibly overwhelmed, so Steve immediately stood up and walked in front of him.

“What’s got you worried, love?” Steve cupped his face in his hands, making him forget momentarily that his bare ass was out for anyone to walk in and see.

“I’m not really clean? And, um, I don’t really know if I can get off with just that in only a few minutes,” Eddie didn’t break eye contact. He knew Steve liked when he looked at him while he talked through this stuff. It made him proud.

“Oh, sweet boy. I don’t need you to smell like roses to wanna get my mouth all over you,” Steve kissed his forehead. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can continue it later once you’ve showered. Or not at all. But I will say I had no intention of getting you off here.”

“But. You were gonna eat me out?”

“Yeah for a couple minutes. Get you worked up. Remind you that you belong to me, that you’re mine no matter who else gets to share your time.”

Steve was going to torture him, then. Why was that making him sweat more?

“You’re mine, baby. I get to make you feel good because it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Green.”

“Relax, sweet boy. I’ve got you.”

Eddie knew he did, so he let his forehead fall, resting against his arms folded over the back of his fake throne. There was something to be said about being worshiped here, something about being on his knees while holding all the power, but he was already too distracted by Steve’s hands pulling his cheeks apart to lick at his entrance to care.

Steve was good with his mouth and it was all too easy to get lost in the feeling of his tongue circling him, pushing past his rim every few swipes and making him rush to stifle a moan.

Just when Eddie started to feel like he needed a hand on him, Steve’s tongue disappeared.

Eddie shivered.

Steve’s hand ran up and down his back, but no other touch came, no words of comfort.

Eddie could hear rolling thunder in the distance and remembered Wayne saying something about getting home before it was supposed to storm tonight.

Might be too late for that now.

He could blame Steve.

Steve pulled his hand away and tugged his pants up for him, nearly knocking him over in his haste to get them in place and buttoned.

“Be good for me, sweet boy. I want you to finish up here and get home before it starts raining. I’ll be there when I drop Dustin off to take care of you,” Steve kissed his temple and started walking away.

“Wait!” Eddie got off the chair and rushed over to Steve, doing his best to ignore the wet, slippery feeling that Steve left behind. “Wayne’s gonna be home by midnight. You won’t be long?”

Steve shook his head, coming back to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Just gotta run in and make sure he heats up his dinner or he’ll forget. I’ll head straight over after that. Promise.”

Eddie nodded and watched as Steve walked out the door.

Thunder rolled again, still far enough away for him to be able to get to his van and get home.

He rushed through shutting off the lights, only leaving the security light on for the janitor when they got there first thing in the morning, throwing his bag over his shoulder and running to his van.

It was dark, but Eddie could still see the heavy clouds rolling in.

He unlocked his van, hopped into the driver’s seat, and turned the key.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Raindrops fell on the windshield and Eddie felt like crying.

Day six: ao3 | tumblr

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Drew and Chase's ex part 2. Drew feeling a 'little' pissed that he wasn't included in the flash forward (let's say he filmed something for it) and seeing everyone speculate that he won't be in season 4. And then out of spite that none of the cast have neither confirmed or denied the rumour in interviews he decides to fuck yn in one of their trailers while filming season 4 and that is how they all find out 😂

And since they wanna be chill with Chase I would say either Jonathan's or Austin's because they're good friends.

Leftovers p2

(Gif credit to owner)

Pairings- readerxdrew starkey

Summary- follow in from part 2, read above.

Warnings- unprotected angry kind of public sex, hair pulling, choking, fingering, hand job, language. (18+)

A/n- hey anon, I changed it up a little. Just found it easier to write it prior to season 4 filming. I hope you don’t mind! Let me know what you think 🥰 also this is unedited atm but needed to post as my drafts are being so weird and I can’t open word doc.

Part 1

"Okay, but if I’m in season 4. Why is no one saying yes in the interviews?” Drew argues, he’s pacing the living room floor.

The vein in his arm is protruding from the way his fist is tightly balled up. “Why am I being told not to say anything?”.

You knew if you weren’t over, half his furniture would be turned upside down and his knuckles would be bruised. He didn’t know how to calm himself down when you weren’t around, he usually bottled things up until they tip him over the edge.

“Whatever”.

You watched as he hung up the phone and brought his arm above his head to throw the phone. “Drew” you sing, his eyes meet yours.

All the anger that had been radiating from him vanishes, he drops the phone onto the couch and walks towards you. Taking a seat next to you, he grabs your face and kisses you. “Thanks for being my anchor” he smiles, your heart skips a beat.

“Do you still want to go to this party JD is throwing for end of season 3? We don’t have to, I mean I know how angry you are” you question, you didn’t really want to go.

You both had been seeing each other on the down low since the night you had sex, so exactly 5 months. You had planned on speaking to Chase but with Drew being busy with interviews and you working in the office until late most night, no one’s schedule ever matched.

That was until you got a text from Chase inviting you to the party, neither of you had hard feelings. You had seen photos online of him with other girls and assumed he had moved on, but you just weren’t sure how he would react to the two of you getting together.

“Oh, we are going” he states, he has a look of mischief on his face but he’s standing and exiting the room before you can even question what’s running through his brain.

-

2 nights go by and you’re stepping out of a taxi, dressed in a black and white checked dress that meets your knees. You had a good amount of cleavage on display and the waist was snatched.

You and Drew had decided to come separately, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you if paparazzi where to find out about the party. Lucky it was on the down low, and you go unnoticed.

“Hey!” JD yells, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you through the house. He guides you to a bar and grabs you a glass of wine. “So good to see you Y/N! Chase is here somewhere”.

Just as he finishes his sentence you see him walk through the door, he gives you a bright smile and walks over. “Hey!” He greets you, giving you a soft hug and kissing your cheek.

You had only seen each other once since the split, thankfully the second the hug ended, you knew you no longer had feelings for him. You just hoped he felt the same way, you didn’t want to keep you and drew a secret anymore.

“How are you?” You question, taking a sip of the white wine JD had given you. The sweet taste danced over your taste buds.

Conversations begin to flow between the 3 of you and soon the whole cast is gathered in a circle, catching up and chatting about new projects. You said a few things about your own work, but really you just listened.

You still hadn’t seen Drew, you kept checking your phone to make sure he hadn’t bailed. You knew how angry he was, you tried to keep him calm but the second you left his side it just hit him, and he’d search the interviews online.

What seemed like an eternity later; he strode on in. Dressed all in black and frames on his face. He waved at everyone, but you could tell he was anxious. He didn’t like not knowing the future.

“Drew!” Everyone cheered, you waited your turn until you could hug him and say hey. You could feel his lips linger on your cheek and his fingers dig into your hips as a way of saying ‘missed you’.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, you saw Drew occasionally, but he was off talking to everyone. You could see him talking to the show runner and the conversation must have started to get heated as Drew’s fingers kept running over his scalp and his jaw was tense.

You didn’t want to interrupt so made your way to a bathroom, you would do your business and then go back out and see if you could grab his attention without having to go over and interrupt the conversation.

A couple of minutes went by, and you opened the door to leave the bathroom, but Drew stood at the entrance. His hands grip your shoulders and push you softly back inside, closing the door behind him.

He grips your jaw and presses his lips to yours, needy hands touching all over your body. Pushing you up against the cabinets, he helps you onto the countertop. Pushing himself between your parted legs.

You wrap your arms around his neck, his hands caressing your hips. Pulling you close to him as he lets his tongue explore the inside of your mouth.

The music outside is drowned out by your heartbeat rattling in your ears, your skin was on fire from his touch. You could feel his erection against your clothed pussy, you needed him right there and then.

“Can I touch you?” He breathes, you nod your head. Taking a moment to catch your breath, he reaches between the two of you. Pulling your panties to the side, he pushes you back slightly.

Angling you to lay back against the mirror, nodding for you to bring your feet up onto the countertop, when he’s finally happy with the way your sat. He runs his fingertips between your soaking folds.

An almost pornographic moan leaves your lips, he chuckles into your hair. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s smirking at how easy it is for him to get you wet. He pushes two fingers inside of you, your mouth gaping open.

“Dre-w, should we be doing this?” You breathed, your walls fluttering around his fingers. You could feel your self-growing wetter, the movements of his fingers becoming fast and sloppy. You don’t doubt that you have covered his hands with your juices. “Hell, yeah we should baby”.

You don’t argue with him, you’re riding your high in JD’s bathroom. Zoned out to the world, grinding your hips into his hand as he brings you over the edge. Your orgasm washing over you with a sense of release, your moans are hidden by his mouth on yours.

You’re reaching into his pants to grab his cock, pulling it out of its confinements. You use your arousal to pump your hand up and down his shaft as he sucks and bites down your throat.

One of his hands fisting the back of your head and pulling you head to the side to give him better access. “Fuck”.

“Feels so good”

“Yeah?”

“So good, I need to be inside of you”

He’s rushing to undo his zip and doesn’t give you time to move position, he’s pushing inside of you with ease. You let out a yelp when he grips your hips and pushes you down onto him harshly. “Fuck, harder Drew”.

“How hard?”

He was still cautious with how he treated you in the bedroom, not wanting to upset you. You had told him a million times he could carve his name on your skin, and you’d still suck his dick. “Make me scream baby”.

He pulls out of you, repositioning you to lean over the countertop. He gives your ass a slap and pushes inside of you again. Bunching your dress up to your hips so he can get a good view of his cock drenched in your juices.

“Oh shit, please Drew harder” you beg, you grip onto the counter. He grips your hair and pulls you back against him, moving his hips inside of you as he reaches around to kiss you.

His hands caress your body, groping your tits. Reaching down to massage your clit, his other hand grips your throat tightly. His eyes are watching the way your own roll to the back of your head, he’s so close to coming just from the way you looked euphoric right now.

“Your so fucking perfect”

“Your mine”

“We are telling Chase”

“I need everyone to know your fucking mine”

You’re coming hard around him, screaming his name out. He places his hand over your mouth to muffle it out slightly, he holds you firmly against him as you shake around him. Your walls pulsating around his cock, milking him until he’s completely dry.

The anger that had once been raging inside of him had gone, he was satisfied and happy. The feeling of you in his arms had him humming with delight.

“Did you mean that last part?” You questioned; he nodded his head. Looking at you through the mirror. You have him a soft smile and turned your head to give him a kiss.

“No way”

You both jump at the voice behind you as Austin stood at the door, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene in front of him. He steps out without saying another word and closes the door behind him.

“I mean, at least it wasn’t chase?” Drew laughs, he slips out of you and helps you clean up. You’re both trying to work yourselves up to get out of the bathroom and to speaking to Chase, it had to happen now. If Austin knew, it was only right Chase did.

“So why did we just have sex in JD’s bathroom?”

“Just me being pissed off with what’s going on with season 4, kind of wanted to just let some steam off. I mean, I’m pissed no one has just said yeah, he’s in the next season.”

“I’m just being salty”

You nod your head in understanding, you would be pissed to if your cast mates pretended like you weren’t going to be in the next season.

“Guys, Chase is coming” Austin barged through the door and pushed you away from one another. He leans against the counter and nods when Chase came up to the door. “Sup man”.

Chase looked between the 3 of you and quirked his brow, peering over your shoulder at the bathroom counter. “Not doing drugs, right?” He laughed nervously.

You all laughed, it was awkward, and your heart felt like it was in your throat. You were nervous and it made it even worse that Austin was in the room, but as though he could read your mind, he pointed his finger to the door and exited.

“What’s going on guys?” Chase questions, he noticed the both of you being awkward. He could tell someone wanted to say something because you both were still in the bathroom waiting. “Chase, man I need to tell you something”.

Chase nods his head and looks at you, you know he wants to ask if you need to be in the room but when he looks back at Drew, he turns to look at you again.

“So those pictures online?” Chase states, no doubt talking about the pictures that those teenage girls had posted online 5 months ago. “Are you seeing each other?”.

Drew looks over at you, making sure you’re okay with him answering. “Yeah” you whisper, you know you shouldn’t be nervous. Your both adults, these feelings honestly can’t be helped, and Chase would know that.

He had to deal with his old feelings with Maddi when you started dating, he was still getting over her and you were fine with that. You gave him his time and he came around in the end.

“Oh shit” Chase breaths, he runs a hand through his hair. He chuckles to himself; Drew can tell your even more anxious now.

His eyes fall to you as you sway on the spot, picking at the skin around your nails. “I’m sorry man, I’ve been meaning to talk to you”. Drew states, he puts his hand on Chase’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Chase, we did mean to talk to you” you start, your about to add that you didn’t want him to be upset and that you both weren’t walking around hoping to be photographed together but he stops you.

“Hey, hey. It’s totally fine” he says, there was a slight hesitation when he says fine, but his caramel eyes meet yours. “I promise, I mean sure it’s a shock, but we ended things months ago” Chase finished, he gives you a soft smile.

“I’m happy for you both”

He pulls Drew in for hug and gives him a rough pat on the back, you can feel slight tension from them both. Unsure how to react to each other, Chase was understanding. Yes, he felt a little strange that his ex was now dating Drew who had become a close friend of his since season 1.

But if Y/N could deal with Chase having had feelings for Maddi then the least he could do is deal with the two of them becoming a couple. So, he pulled you into a soft hug and before you could pull away. He brought his lips to your ears.

“He will be good for you”

“Thanks Chase”.

-

[trashmouth-richie]

prequel to Honey I’m Home

master list

summary: a peek into the lives of our love birds back in 1985

w/c: 4k

tw: no minors, underage drinking, drug use, party behavior. hinted at: rape

Engine roaring hot with the early dog days of summer, Eddie’s van skids to a stop sliding against black asphalt of Piney Wood Lane.

“Eddie! What the fuck?!” A church mouse voice that resembled nails on a chalkboard shrieks when the van halts to a stop. Peach colored lipstick is smeared in a wavy line across her pale skin, Chrissy glares icy blue daggers into the curly haired metal head.

Stoned and nearly asleep, Eddie forced his tired lips into a grin, pearly whites gleaming against the backdrop of the setting sun through the dirty windshield. “Oh babe you’re so pretty, here let me help.” Grabbing the tube of lipstick Eddie draws a matching line across her other cheek, “all better,” he yawns as she snatches the lipstick tube back and shoves the lid back on slamming it into her purse. Using a dirty t-shirt by her feet that she knew was used to wipe Eddie’s cum off her stomach some time last week after one of his shows, she rotates it to a cleanish spot and works the black cloth gently across her face, muttering to herself.

“Where are these little shits anyway?” She grumbles as she avoids Eddie’s lips on her neck, shoving him away with the heel of her hand.

“Fuck Chris, relax,” Eddie says, arms up in a surrender and lowering slightly to light a cigarette and blowing the smoke into the open warm air through his window, “little Tooty said they have to sneak out of the basement window.”

It had been a full year since Eyeball had left town and graduated without Eddie. His best friend was always smarter than he was, never having to repeat senior year, he left Eddie’s trailer park ass in the dust— never to be heard from again.

A scoff breaks from Chrissy’s pastel pink lips as she swipes more powder blue eyeshadow on her lids in the mirror. “I don’t know what my brother sees in her.”

The high encompassing Eddie falters for a split second. Chad Cunningham? What the fuck would Tooty want to do with him?

“Damn, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes and inhaling from his cigarette, “don’t hold back.”

Chrissy flips the visor up with a thud and crosses her arms, her lips twisted in a sneer, she opens her mouth to speak but Eddie shushes her when five moving figures run across the neatly mowed lawn of the Wheeler’s.

Opening the sliding door is a pimple-faced Mike Wheeler, accompanied by Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, and you.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Eddie says holding his hands up in protest, “watch the carpet yeah? Won’t be a shaggin’ wagon if the carpet is stomped all to hell you little gremlins.”

“Fuck dude,” Dustin speaks, sliding next to Mike on the floor, “you gonna give us upholstery lessons or are we going to this party?”

Mike and Lucas laugh as Eddie takes off before the door is even shut. Screaming into the night like a bat out of hell. Passing out cigarettes from a crumbled pack you kept in the breast pocket of the same ratty flannel you wore almost daily, everyone leans forward to catch the flame at the same time. Inhaling deep and choking back smoke against baby pink lungs.

Eddie wasn’t your favorite person but if he was one thing: it was reliable. He’d show up in his van, rolling up on the last remnants of weed whenever you called him. Day or night, rain or shine wherever you were— he’d drop whatever he was doing to pick you up.

Like the time Mike had left you at Benny’s after falling asleep in the red cracked booth following a late night movie premiere of Cujo. A quick dial to the Munson trailer, with a worried Benny behind you, after a couple of monotonous dial tones an out of breath Eddie answered grumpily reassuring you he’d be there soon.

Ten minutes later the blaring tunes of DIO were heard faintly as his van roared down the street, foregoing stop signs and swerving all over the place.

Benny raised an eyebrow and gave Eddie a pointed finger grunting: get her home safe.

Eddie greeted you with a stupid smile and deep dimples, threatening Mike’s life and his Hellfire spot for leaving you behind.

“Don’t make this a habit,” he scolded lightly, eyes red and higher than a kite, his boots were untied and his hair was sticking out in every direction, “Eyeball will skin me alive.”

You roll your eyes and put your feet on the dash, “Kev doesn’t even know I’m gone.”

Tapping the brakes Eddie laughs deep when you lunge forward, millimeters from almost smacking your head on your knees. “You know my rule, feet down little T.”

The night was young and you were filled with a naivety that coursed through your veins. With Eyeball at college your parents were rarely home, and you spent every waking minute you could with the boys, Max and El. A group of unruly teens, knobby knees and bad haircuts. The summer was barely at its peak, and you couldn’t wait to live it.

“Alright you little brats,” Eddie joked, pulling into Rick’s driveway, “no humping, no grinding, don’t take anything if you aren’t sure of what it is, and you all owe me $5 for the ride here and supplying you little degenerates with the best weed and warm beer in all of Hawkins.” He goads with a warm smile and jumps out of the van, leaving Chrissy to readjust her hair and makeup for the tenth time in the fifteen minute drive to get out to Lover’s Lake.

Filing out of the van one at a time, everyone slaps an Abe Lincoln into Eddie’s upturned palm. When it’s your turn he quickly closes his hand and you give him an annoyed look.

A look of concern colors his brow as he peers into your face, “Are you seriously dating Chrissy’s brother?”

Turning your lip up in defense, you scowl at the accusation, “so what if I was?” You gonna run and tell Kev about it?”

Eddie didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Eyeball’s fury, having seen for himself how Eyeball could fight the biggest of assholes at the Hideout, and he damn sure as hell didn’t want to see you on that end either. “Nah,” he chides, pocketing the bills into his chain wallet and standing with his hands on his hips, chest out, “what the hell do you think I am some shithead narc? I just didn’t think that you’re old enough to date.”

Snarling a grin and pushing his shoulder you answer sarcastically, “Are you my mother? Stop smoking Munson, you’re turning into a softie.” Traipsing past him you quickly run inside to find your friends, feet crunching on the gravel.

What the hell got into him?

—

The party is buzzing and so are you, two drinks in and a hit from Jonathan’s blunt and you’re dancing with Max, El and Will around the living room.

Tears flood Will’s eyes but he won’t say what’s wrong. Lately when he drank, he always seemed to get a little gloomy and dark. Whatever was bothering you he’d never tell, just going on about how it’s not fair. Only for the next day to claim he didn’t remember.

In a blurring spin from El’s outstretched hand, you can make out Steve Harrington. His tongue was wrapped around some blonde girl’s throat. Hands cupping her ass like she might float away. He wore his sunglasses in the house pretending like he really was fit to be “King”.

King Douche of Hairspray Island

Nancy and Jonathan are whispering close together slow dancing to a song no one can hear but them. Her stylish hair and clothes always fit her like she was straight from a Gap catalog.

Eyeing you, she waves and blows you a kiss. One you pocket and blow back. You’ve come to know Nancy quite well this last school year. Being one of your best friend's older sister’s she was cool and grown up.

Showing Max, El and yourself the proper way to wear makeup without looking like a cheap tramp.

“I don’t care if it is popular, blue is not a shade for anyone’s eyes.” Her makeup lessons earned an eye roll from Max, but you and El took special interest in it.

Collapsing onto the couch after Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ended; Will, Max and El all fall into a fit of giggles, you are breathless and your legs feel like freeze pops before they’re frozen. Being drunk and spinning around wasn’t the best of combinations but it was a blast.

A wayward glance towards the makeshift poker table in the small kitchen has Will wiping his eyes, rushing to the bathroom, excusing himself with a rushed “gotta pee.”

Finishing the last swallows of a lone beer sitting atop the barely standing coffee table, Max tosses the empty can behind her and leans forward, turning her head towards your direction, her eyes squinting into a serious glare, “you really gonna date that weasel dick Chad Cunningham?”

El’s face lights with devilish delight and you roll your eyes. Chad Cunningham was in your grade, and more popular than anyone you hung out with. Exceptionally good at sports and school, he was a dreamboat for any girl to set sail with. A future of wealth and riches lying at your feet. And he had been laying on his advances thick.

Plucking a cigarette from the crumbled pack in your shirt pocket, you offer the redhead a drag after taking a long inhale.

“Jesus,” you breathe through a cloud of smoke, “I swear I’m gonna kill Lucas.”

Max only laughs, poking your ribs with a slight jab of her unpainted fingernail, red from a picked stubborn hangnail, “Lucas couldn’t keep a secret if someone paid him too.”

Lucas and Chad played on the same baseball team, and it was he who said he would put in a good word to you for Chad. Apparently they were talking about more than just batting averages at practice.

Stealing the cigarette from your mouth, Max slots it between her own chapped lips, inhaling and blowing the smoke upwards as she falls back into the couch.

Lighting another cigarette, you listen to Max’s scoffing noises as Eddie runs through the living room, shirt off wearing cutoff denim shorts and boots, a screaming Chrissy over his shoulder as he trots towards the dock. Her high pitched whines are faint as there are two splashes into the lake, one after another.

“We’ve talked on the phone once, maybe twice,” you offer the small information as a gift, waiting for your two best friends to pull the pink satin bow and open it revealing the secret surprise. “Just lucky my mom didn’t get to the phone before I did.”

“No shit,” El hums around a can of Pabst, a wicked smile evident on her lips, “so what did he say?!”

The three of you dive into a giggly drunk conversation about boys, laughing at how awkward they were, how dumb they could be, ending the conversation still unsure whether or not you would give in to Chad’s charm. He was cute after all.

He wasn’t like you, while your family wasn’t poor, Chad’s family was extremely wealthy. They were all matching outfits for family pictures and lately your parents were gone more than they were home. Hushed whispers and teary eyes from your mother.

You didn’t know what was going on, maybe they would be getting a divorce? Maybe you’d be like Max and live in the trailer park after whichever parent decided to stay in Hawkins. Between the choice of living with your mom or dad, you’d rather sleep in a dog kennel.

Of all the girls in the school, Chad had chosen you. The sleepless nights on the phone were nothing but sweet talk. Telling you how pretty you were, calling you honey bun, how he couldn’t get you out of his head. Teasing him and telling him he was crazy, his flirting only deepened. Creating a pocket of desire and questions of what if? burrowed deep into your skin. Warming your heart with each peel of his words cozying inside of it.

He even left flowers on your window sill in the middle of the night so you could wake up to the smell of wildflowers drying in the growing sun of the dewy morning.

He was a charmer. And he’d charmed you right to a fit of heated cheeks and butterfly stomach aches.

When you saw Chrissy’s blonde hair in Eddie’s van you almost expected to see him in the back. Stomach sinking when he wasn’t stuffed into the grungy van.

Last night he made you promise to call when you were done hanging out with your friends. A promise you weren’t sure if you would keep or not.

El slinked from the couch and joined Mike and the rest of the boys playing their drunken hands at poker. Losing every cent of allowance and weeks worth of mowing yards in Hawkins to Steve and a piss drunk Tommy.

Max and Lucas were wrestling on the floor now, his deep skin turning a violent shade of purple only seen on plums from Max having him in a headlock, making him swear to stop calling her Pippy due to her choice of hairstyle.

The scent of murky lake water infused with green algae and harsh whiskey fogged your brain, tiny droplets of water slid down your cheeks, making you question how many beers you actually had. Putting your head on the cushion and looking back revealed Eddie, standing behind you in all his stupidity and brainless head banging to Heaven and Hell. One hand clutched around a bottle of Jack Daniels by the neck, his rings clacking loudly around the glass, the other pinched a fat joint. One wet boot on the back of the couch.

“Trailer Park run out of water again?” you spit, making a show of wiping your face with the back of your hand and sitting farther away from the metal head menace. Kev’s friend or not, Eddie was a special kind of jackass. Loud, ruthless, a real mother fucker, but come hell or high water, he was loyal to his friends. But shit, even an old porch dog is.

Eddie made a voice and chuckled deep, taking a large inhale from the joint, the paper crinkling against the orange burnt end. Blowing big O’s around your face, he merely grins, “you’re too kind to me little T,” he gathers his hair and wrings it out over your head, leaping over the back of the couch landing next to you with a sopping squelch sound of wet denim slapping against polyester, “better ease up on that sweetness or someone might think you’re not made of piss and vinegar.”

Kicking him away from you he only laughs harder ow stop you’re hurting me ow, he breaks out through choked laughs at your attempt to throw him off the couch.

When you have him pinned against the arm rest, your dirty white converse pressed into the slab of graffitied alabaster that makes up his back, he gently grabs your ankle and tosses your feet off of him in a swift throw.

Crossing your arms in a stubborn fashion you deliver one more kick into his side before retreating your legs in a pretzel beneath you, taking the joint from his outstretched hand as a peace offering. Hard to deliver kicks when your feet felt like they were stuck in brownie batter thick mud.

After a few hits, droopy eyes, and Eddie’s dripping curls down his back and onto the woven beige fabric of Rick’s couch, Eddie lets out a loud sigh, taking a pull from the whiskey bottle he still was nursing.

“Thought Eyeball was supposed to come home this summer?”

The question is more of a statement from Eddie as you lazily shrug your shoulders and find intense concentration on the frayed edges of your shorts. Fingers rolling the edges until the fabric is warm and sweaty.

“Dunno, precious Kev hasn’t said much since he went out East, nobody has.”

“Ohh c’mon,” Eddies velvet voice hums deep through his high, eyes barely open, “your rents aren’t that bad.”

Blowing hot breath through your lips you mimic a balloon, giggling at the way your lips feel with each wiggly vibration against your them. “Next. I’m not talking about my feelings with you when you’re higher than Willie fuckin’ Nelson.”

“Rocky Mountain High,” Eddie grins, tipping the neck or the Jack Daniel’s bottle to his lips.

Heckling him you correct, “That’s… John Denver …dumbass— ,” a yawn escapes your mouth, brain functioning on low as the high creeps into your brain, an unannounced nap knocking on your eyelids.

The couch dips with Eddie’s weight as he reaches for a blanket and tosses it to you, “Kid, I don’t know how you and Eyeball are related,” he presses, laughing at the way your eyes heavily blink back at him, “you can’t hang.”

The slowest fuck you rolls of your tongue, the living room fading in your vision you can almost taste the insult rolling around your mouth.

His idle smile falls into a frown, eyebrows pulled inward, eyes looking over your head you train your eyes to follow his gaze.

The noise of Chrissy’s bubbly giggle as she emerges from Rick’s bedroom, catches your attention. She’s wearing a pair of his boxers and a worn heather gray shirt, faded kelly green writing reading, Hawkins Athletic Dept 1980. Her eyes are twinkling with each murmur from Rick’s slack mouth, bent low to her ear, neither of them seeing Eddie sitting on the couch.

Stepping into the low hanging lights in the living room, Rick quickly gestures to Chrissy’s nose and she hastily wipes at it with the back of her hand.

You knew very little of Chrissy other than her family lived on the golf course in a lavish house with a perfectly manicured yard. One boy, one girl, perfect cookie cutter JC Penney catalog assholes.

Last year, you, Dustin and Mike threw three dozen perfectly shaped, white eggs at their front door on Halloween. While Will and Lucas rang the doorbell and Max lit the brown papered sack filled to the brim of Forest Hills Trailer Park’s finest dog shit.

There were wanted ads in the Hawkins Post for weeks about any known whereabouts of the “hoodlums” who defaced private property.

And Joyce Byers stood her ground on not knowing anything when Chief Hopper begrudgingly stomped his way from his police cruiser to the lonely woman’s door. Nevermind her receipt from Bradley’s Big Buys that was identical to what was used in the Halloween crimes of 1984.

It truly was a mystery.

Chrissy didn’t talk to you or any of your friends when you all hung out with Eddie and that was perfectly fine with you, she seemed on edge and would scowl anytime Eddie wasn’t paying her attention or waiting on her hand and foot. At the very least she looked to be in desperate need to fucking relax.

Her wide pupils scan the living room and stop on Eddie. The innocence of Bambi struck the blues in her eyes.

The couch shifts as Eddie stands on firm boots and makes his way to Rick and Chrissy. And before you can crane your neck to hear the conversation, Dustin throws himself down beside you, grabbing the blanket in a yank.

“Pretty sure I’ve figured out the physics of the beer bong,” he says as he flips your legs on his lap.

Before long your eyelids have taken the shape of sandbags and you’re fast asleep. Left on the couch after Dustin’s lengthy explanation of the correct number of breaths taken before the beer bong rendered you to a peaceful dream state.

When you wake by being lightly shaken by a sober-looking Eddie, his warm dark eyes swim with anger and look too wet, and his smile doesn’t match his eyes, “let’s go, kid,” he looks around wildly, on edge, “you’re drunker than a skunk— it’s time to go.”

You’re incoherent as you try to stand, a dizzy spell capturing you in a wave and you feel like you're underwater. Looking around you don’t recognize anyone but Eddie. Rick’s is packed with faces you don’t know.

Not wanting to be there for another second, Eddie grabs your wrist, squats low in front of you and throws your arms around his neck. He wraps the smooth crook of his elbows into the back of your knees, wearing you like a drunk backpack.

A piggy back ride that left your face in the curly, tangled tufts of his drying hair, the tang of weed and lake water stinging your nose as you bury your chin into his shoulder.

A cool blanket is on you when you open your eyes and become a little more alert. You’re in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, a cigarette hangs limply from his lips as he’s muttering something to himself. It’s dark, and no music is playing. An odd thing for him.

A quick glance around and you see that no one else is with you. A street lamp shines through the windows and you can see Eddie’s knuckles are painted with a deepened glossy red substance.

“Eddie?”

He doesn’t hear you immediately so you repeat his name. His head turns sharp towards you and the blazed look of rage emits from his face. If it were a look from anyone else you’d be terrified. He quickly softens his eyes.

“Everyone’s at Steve’s,” he says quickly, “the kids, Nancy, Jonathan.. we’re heading there—that cool?”

Confused but unable to concentrate a single thought on why the fuck Eddie would be taking you to Steve mop head Harrington’s house, you nod in agreeance. Fighting sleep but losing.

“.. okay okay okay! Explain to me again what the hell happened, I was helping Lucas get Max in my car when it went down.”

“Ouch! Jesus Chr—“

“Sorry!”

“.. they were eyeing her man, all of them! — it was— fuck!”

*glass breaks against a wall*

“Who Chrissy?”

“No, Tooty!”

“Oh my God.. Munson. Who were they?!”

“I don’t know man, I’ve— I’ve never seen them before… fuck this I’m going back there— gonna snap their fucking necks!”

“Stop, this needs to get cleaned or it’ll get infected!”

“Henderson, weren't you sitting by her? Where the hell were you?!.”

“I was Steve! fuck— I just had take a piss, I was gone for like 2 minutes and then I heard the yelling…”

“Christ! Did they touch her?!”

“No,” a tearful voice warbles, “Eddie knocked out that big fucker and the rest of them backed off.”

“I fucking swear to God— Harrington, I will slit their throats if I see them again!”

“I know dude I know, me too.”

“She’s asleep. Max and El are staying with her in the guest room upstairs, I think we should all get some sleep it’s fucking 3 in the morning.”

“Nope, all due respect Wheeler— I can’t.”

“Ed—”

“Fuck! I won’t go back there, alright? But I can’t just lay down and go to bed— not after this..”

The weary eyed stubborn watchdog waits til dawn, aching back from the wall he’s propped up against and bruised knuckles sting with tightness. Flipping the steel end of an old pocket knife open and closed.

Steve stayed up with him for a while, a bat with nails protruding from every which way in a death grip in his fist.

Eddie didn’t think he actually was all that bad, underneath all that hairspray he could tell he’s a genuine person— lost on the surface of money, name brand clothes and expensive cologne.

The two of them made a pact that night that the kids would be protected at all costs, two guardians in the halls for them in high school in the fall. The jock dickheads who crashed Rick’s party amongst them, but the threat behind Eddie’s fist evident in the broken jaw of the football captain behemoth. No longer able to to take the Tigers to a state championship or try to have his way with a younger drunk girl at a party.

Both Eddie and Steve decide that in the morning if you didn’t remember what happened— it would die there, a protective secret amongst new friends.

🧡

see you in volume xi

[wildlife4life]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @fortheloveofbuddie @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @monsterrae1 @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @theotherbuckley and @diazsdimples You are all super awesome! Thank you so much!

Happy trailer drop day! Hope ya'll are having some fun clowning, theorizing, and freaking out in general. I am. Hope I can add to that fun with another NFL Buck snippet, though I'm not too sure. This is a kind of sad snippet, featuring Red. Enjoy? (All things NFL Buck)

Eddie is midway through a somewhat calm 24 hour shift when his phone vibrates with a call. Caller i.d. shows a picture of his previous captain Tommy Vega with her twin daughters smiling bright at the last Texan's game Eddie brought them too. He is slightly confused as to why she would be calling in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday, but Tommy is a good friend and Eddie is always happy to talk to her. "Hey Tom's this is a pleasant surprise." Eddie answers abandoning his UNO cards, and leaning back in his chair. Across the table, a slightly irritated Chim scowls, mouthing 'Tom's' towards Hen sitting at the head of the table, who just shrugs and sets her own cards down, officially putting the game on pause. "Oh thank god." Ravi groans under his breath, slumping down in his chair next to Eddie's. Poor probie has had to draw way too many cards and Chimney was an evil bastard who kept making him draw one too many cards. "Eddie." Tommy states, her voice apologetic and layered with grief. Immediately, Eddie gets to his feet, and stalks over to kitchen, ignoring his crew mates startled and concerned looks. The last time Tommy said his name in such a way, his friend and previous paramedic partner Tim had been killed by a freaking lava rock. So yea, Eddie knew this tone of voice from Tommy meant only bad news and he needed the space to hear it. "Tommy, what is it?" He asks glumly, bracing himself for the worst. The paramedic captain lets out a wet sigh, "Its Red, Eddie. The cancer's back and they're saying he has less than six months." His stomach drops to his feet. Not Red. Not the man that not only Buck looked up to, but Eddie as well. The man who gave him and Buck a safe haven to be a couple. The man who is practically a pseudo-godfather to Christopher. His red door and sign, one of the most prominent points of Eddie's and Buck's relationship is because of Red. His motto, 'Just walk in' has gotten them through the toughest times since meeting. And now they are going to lose him to something he thought he had beaten. Fuck the universe. Fuck cancer.

*Hides behind offensive linemen (big ass football players that protect the quarterback)* I'm sorry?

Tagging (no pressure): @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @aroeddiediaz @giddyupbuck @rainbow-nerdss @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @bekkachaos @eddiescowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @glorious-spoon @buddierights @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

Wayne Munson wasn't sure what to expect from Gareth's phone call, but a hole in the roof to what appears to be a reflection of his home covered in vines and extension cords with the sounds of power tools was not it. That's partially untrue; he did have an expectation. He expected to find his traumatized nephew hiding in his bedroom.

"What the fuck," he whispers to himself, staring up at the ceiling. He's seen a lot of weird shit in his time, so he takes a couple of deep breaths before he pulls his eyes away from the hole to head down the hall. Ever fiber in him knows that he's not going to find Eddie in the safety of his room, or the in the bathroom, but instead, through that hole in the ceiling.

Still. He checks just in case.

With no Eddie in sight, Wayne heaves a sigh as he stands below, staring up at the mattress on the floor of his living room, a mirror of the one he is also standing on. It's been a hot minute since he's had to climb any sort of rope but whoever made the sheet rope had the smarts to knot it, so it's not the climb that ends up being difficult. It's the shift in gravity that he wasn't expecting.

He has just enough time to turn enough so he lands on his back instead of his head. Thank God for the mattress, could have been worse, but it still winds him.

He finally gets to his feet just in time for the front door to be ripped open and some boy he doesn't recognize stands ready to throw a hatchet at him.

"Whoa!" Wayne throughs his hands up to show he's unarmed.

"Holy shit," the boy sags, arms dropping, though he's careful with lowering the hand holding the hatchet so Wayne's gotta give him a little respect. Eddie woulda just ended up slashing himself probably. Speaking of Eddie.

"Where's Eddie?"

The hatchet raises again, though the boy takes a stance less like he's going to throw it and more like he's ready to charge forward with it. "Who's asking? How you get here?"

"What's in there, Steve!?" A voice Wayne doesn't recognize calls from somewhere behind the boy.

"This is my home, boy. Or, that is," Wayne points up to the hole and watches the boy as a myriad of emotions cross his face. Wayne watches him back a few steps out the door and look up.

"Eddie! Your dad just dropped through the gate!"

"My dad!?" He hears Eddie- he hears Eddie! Wayne is out the door, crowding into the boy's space, turning to look where the boy was looking. He sees Eddie. Eddie on the roof, a tangle of cables in his hands.

The both just stare at each other for a moment before Wayne barks, "Get your ass down here, son!"

Eddie scrambles into action. The cords get dropped and Eddie vanishes from sight. Wayne hears the sound of him clambering down the side of the trailer. Wayne takes this time to step off the small porch and onto the ground, looking back and forth between the two ends of the trailer, unsure which side Eddie's going to appear from.

"Wayne!" Eddie calls from his right side, and Wayne turns just in time to catch an armful of his nephew.

Wayne sends Steve back through the gate to fetch a backpack he has hidden in a cupboard above the dryer. He was right when he'd told Steve he'd know it when he saw it. Steve's got to climb the dryer to look on the top shelf, but there's only one backpack in the whole cupboard, black, shoved against the back, and bursting at the seams.

Wayne had said it was full of emergency supplies and it looks like he wasn't joking.

He drops back into the Upside Down and finds Wayne waiting in the room. There's thumping on the roof that draws his attention.

"I'm makin' Eddie cover up the vents. He probably woulda gotten around to it 'fore I interrupted earlier, of course, but sometimes ya gotta remind him 'bout things. Thanks, son," Wayne explains and takes the backpack from Steve, turning to place it on the counter beside him and digs into it. He watches as Wayne pulls out a bunch of stuff -rope, flashlights, box of matches, and more- before shuffling out a box with a handle on it, pushing the backpack away to set the box down and flick it open.

Inside is a pistol.

"How long have you had that?" Steve asks.

"A coupla decades," Wayne answers.

"Has it always been in that cupboard?"

"Since I got custody of Eddie in '77."

Steve moves around him, climbing the dryer and opening the cupboard. The same black backpack sits shoved to the back, not stuffed nearly as full at the one he brought through the gate. Steve pulls it out and jumps off the dryer, before setting this backpack down and repeating what Wayne did, pulling out the same handled box. Then he looks up to Wayne, who looks pleased.

"Given what y'all told me, I think two's gonna be better than one. Y'know how to use that, son?"

"No," Steve shakes his head, "but Nancy does. She's got the shotgun, though. Will she need a pistol, too?"

"Dunno. Your mind wizard could pull it from her hands. Best to have a backup. Send her in here."

With a nod, Steve goes to find Nancy and then help finish boarding up the vents.

When Wayne and Nancy emerge from the trailer, they have a new plan. Robin will stay behind and help team distraction, just in case. Wayne's going to be coming with Steve and Nancy. Eddie tries to argue, but a stern look and small speech about how Wayne's not going to let any of "you children" walk into danger shuts Eddie down quick. Wayne's the only one with military training, infiltration training, so it's an obvious choice anyway.

That would have been fine and good, except before they leave, Eddie calls out. Says to make him pay. And Steve doesn't know the Munsons beyond this terrible week, but he does know what a face looks like when filled with grim determination and a willingness to die for someone else. He sees it on Eddie's face. He thinks Wayne sees the same thing he does on Eddie's face.

They make it only a couple of trailers away before Steve has to ask, "you think Eddie will do something stupid?"

"Worse," Wayne says, "I think he'll do something brave."

"I'm switching with Robin," Steve decides.

"What? Why? I thought you wanted to get back at Vecna. For Chrissy," Nancy asks. No accusingly, but curious and concerned.

"Not at the expense of someone else's life. I'm going to switch with Robin. Eddie's not going to be able to overpower me if he wants to try something brave."

Nancy and Wayne nod at him, and Steve jogs back, calling out for Robin when they're closer.

She runs to meet him, "what happened?"

"Nothing. You're going instead."

Robin scans his face, and says, "okay."

Steve gives her his Vecna-fighting equipment, and the backpack of molotov cocktails, and she heads off while Steve moves to the trailer, where Eddie and Dustin are finishing things up and both look surprised to see Steve instead of Robin.

"Steve? Why're you back?" Dustin asks.

He grins. "I've decided I'm no hero. I'd rather be the babysitter."

Lucas can't imagine how this would be playing out if Gareth wasn't here. Gareth was keeping eyes on Erica while Lucas watched Max, and shortly after Max cut off mid-sentence, Gareth had gasped, writing furiously on his notebook and rushing down the stairs as quietly as possible, closing the door behind him.

Lucas grabs the notebook to read it quickly. Someone tackled Erica. Going to investigate.

A short while later Lucas hears the sound of fighting, and even though he wants to go help, he has to wait. Max can't put the headphones on herself and he can't abandon her. He's got to trust that Gareth will figure it out.

Max starts to float, and Lucas is in the process of dragging a chair that looks like it'll support his weight to stand on and get the headphones over her ears when the door flied open and there stands Jason Carver. The sight freezes Lucas in place.

"What the fuck!?" Carver says, and it's then that Lucas sees the gun he has. Where's Erica? Where's Gareth? He didn't hear a gunshot but-

"AAH!" Gareth yells as he barrels up the stairs. Jason turns, and Lucas takes a step towards them but Gareth shouts, "MAX!" and Lucas is back on task. He climbs the chair and places the headphones on Max, pressing plays and making sure the volume is up as loud as possible before stuffing the walkman in the pocket of her hoodie.

Lucas doesn't know what happens, but he hears the gunshot and then the sound of someone crashing down the stairs. He looks quickly to see that Gareth is the one of the top of the stairs.

"Holy shit!" Lucas yelps, jumping off the chair. The noise makes Gareth turn around, startled. "Holy shit." Lucas repeats, because there is blood spreading quickly across Gareth's shirt.

"I think he shot me," Gareth says, quiet and scared, before he slumps to the floor.

Lucas doesn't know what to do, he needs to go call an ambulance but Max could still be in danger-

"Holy shit, is Jason dead!?" Erica screams from the floor below and Lucas shouts back, "Go call an ambulance, he shot Gareth!"

Erica doesn't say any more but he can hear her running away. He rushes to Gareth and rolls him over before pulling his own shirt up and off to press against the bullet hole.

Max drops, and it's a rough landing, but she's cursing about it so she's not dead. It'll be fine that she's mad at him for not catching her, especially if it means Gareth doesn't bleed to death instead.

[filthgarbage86]

Down the Hallway

summary: Eddie and best friend!reader are hanging out and having a sleep over. reader goes to shower and Eddie hears something very interesting…

cw/tw: shower sex, oral (f!recieving), friends-to-lovers, childhood friend, internalized guilt, dirty talk, standing sex? I guess? I think?

Imagine this:

Friday night, middle of summer, and you and Eddie are having a sleepover like you always have. You chat all night, you watch movies, do games or puzzles, make characters together, and more, you just talk to each other. You could talk to each other for hours and hours and hours.

And the more Eddie was around that, the more you showed effort and kindness and a type of affection that was so specific to him that he wanted more. He wanted to treat you so so well, wanted to prove that he was able to fulfill all your hopes and dreams, you wanted to be that more than anything in the world.

But you would never date him. There’s no way. You two have known each other since shaved head for him and braces for you. He’s seen you cry, scream, struggle, everything. You have been through heaven and hell together.

She would never want to change that. He felt like he should never want to change that. What was he thinking? There’s no way he could chance that, the idea of losing her or not being able to know or see or care for her ever again kills him. He was willing to push aside his feelings for so long because he would rather not ruin things and keep you in his life than ever chance losing you forever.

You two had gotten into another round of just talking to each other with such creativity bouncing off each other, his energy addictive and you just wanted to lean into but you were too guarded. But it was so exciting to see it from him…

The night was coming to an end, you were exhausted and needing to get through your nighttime routine. You head down the hallway to the bathroom in Eddie’s trailer and figure you can relieve some of the tension in your lower regions. You turn on the water until it’s steaming, and you climb in and get started.

You are closing your eyes, squeezing one of your nipples while your other hand slips on down and starts slowly drawing circles onto your clit. You imagine it’s Eddie doing it, you imagine him leaning into you, pressing his chest against your back. You whimper, moaning a small “Eddie”; hoping he wasn’t listening.

At first he wasn’t. He thought he had made it up. Did you really call for him? Why did it sound different?

He’s starting to slowly make his way down the hallway when he hears out in the hallway and longer, more desperate moan “edddiiiieeee” and he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The first time he was sure it was a dream; now he’s heard it again, but maybe it wasn’t in that context. He quietly opens the door to the bathroom to see you outlined in steam and he feels his jaw drop and his breathing hitch/stop immediately. He cannot believe what he is seeing, he’s seeing you, leg up on the shower ledge, and hand in a position that has him seeing stars from how drunk he is off this in real life fantasy.

He sat there watching your silhouette in the shower, deathly still, and ears listening- waiting- to hear something from you-

“Oh my gosh Eddie please”

He is immediately taking off all of his clothes, dropping them to the floor, the fastest change he’s ever done. He opens up the door to the shower and pull you by the hips as he stands behind you and takes over exactly as you were. You jolt in shock, realization, and then melt into his touch.

“Please what sweetheart? I heard you needed me. You called for me, what do you need sweet thing?”

You moan at his words, you knew right there you were fucked. You reach back to his head on your shoulder and grab a handful of his hair and pull him closer into you. He groans at the pull and the closeness of you, grinding up behind you to add wonderful friction.

“I need you. Please.”

“Anything you want, I’m yours.”

“I want you to eat me out”

Say no more, he was already grabbing onto your hips and turning your back towards the wall once again, to where the water was still keeping you warm but ultimately was leaving eddie so soaked and he loves it. He is on his knees, pressing kisses all the way down your body, tummy, hips, thighs, and finally he’s looking up at you like he’s on his knees praying to his God. he spreads your legs a little and has you sitting on his face, hands on your thighs and pulling you and supporting you on his face completely.

He is in there, he immediately is inserting his tongue into you and slurping you up obscenely and you get dizzy after 5 minutes of it. He is making sure he drinks up every inch of inside you and cleaning you up so so well. He come out and starts licking stripes up to your clit repeatedly at a slow but hard pace. You’re grinding into him, riding his tongue and swirling your hips in circles chasing it while he decides to insert a finger into you at an equally grueling pace.

“Eddie oh my GOD please keep doing that, feels so so so good”

Your praise has his eyes rolling to the back of his head and moaning, adding vibration to the stimulation that Eddie was performing on you. You’re heaving moaning breathes and sounding profoundly pornographic, you are so lucky you’re home alone.

You start getting dizzy from everything but it’s not enough. You need him inside of you, now.

“Eddie please, I need you”

He is standing up and kissing you hungrily while you taste yourself all over his tongue and lips. He is covered in your wetness and continues to get mixed in with the shower water and it tastes heavenly. You were both holding each other so close and just feasting on one another, until you can’t wait anymore.

“Eddie i need you to fuck me. now.”

He moans into your mouth “I’ve waited for so long for you to ask me that”

He grabs the underside of your legs and encourage you again the wall a bit and starts to sink into you. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck and your face in the crook of his shoulder. You’re licking and kissing and sucking every drop of water off his body and leaving marks everywhere absentmindedly.

He sinks into you and starts to lower your hips and eager hole onto him and both of you are sighing in relief and want. You are hungry for him, taking him inch by inch no problem from how wet he made you and you needed him to rail into you.

Luckily for you, he couldn’t hold that back. He arches his hips back, taking out most of his cock out and then grinds back into your hips. His hold on your hips are still vice and guide you up and down in the rhythm of his hips. It has you groaning, the friction, the rhythm, the pressure, he was fucking the brains out of you. You couldn’t say anything besides your begging moans and Eddie’s name.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to show you that I can be what you want, I can fulfill your needs. Whatever you need, whatever you want, I. Would. Do. It”

he says, punctuation with his movements and drilling into you. The sounds of skin are buzzing off the wall and you know you’re close. You start tightening around him and he can feel it

“You feeling good baby? You wanna cum? You gonna come for me?” You just nod and moan a little mhm to him, eyes screwed shut, whimpering into the crook of his neck and biting gently into his shoulder. Your climax hits you like a wave and is rushing through you, making your hips go absolutely wild and you tense up Eddie is convinced for a second you’re being possessed and it has him obsessed. He doesn’t last long at all after that and is cumming hard into you, it immediately dripping out of you.

You both stand there, holding each other and trying to catch your breathe. It takes a few minutes but wordlessly, Eddie starts cleaning you up. He starts by gently cleaning up his cum out of you trying not to overstimulate you but you kind of love it. He grabs your soap and gentle washes you off, giving you massages along the way. Kissing your shoulders, just overall showing so much care towards you.

He dries you off and helps you dress and you dress him, and you walk to his bed and immediately lay down. He offers you to cuddle into him and you immediately accept the invite. You both sigh contently.

“So what made you make a move?”

“I heard you from down the hallway and I couldn’t ignore you.”

“You said you’ve wanted this for a long time?”

You look up and he’s blushing a little. You wouldn’t have seen it without the bathroom light peaking out. “I think I’ve always wanted you, I just didn’t know it. But your love makes me feel so safe and all I want to do is treat you well. I’ve always wanted to show you how easy it is to love you, even when it’s hard, even when you’re anything. I’ve always know you were it for me.”

You were stunned. You genuinely had no idea how to respond but you’re just in awe. There’s no way you could be this lucky, this isn’t real.

“If you don’t feel the same way, I will understand. I will keep my distance but please I cannot lose you from my life. You’re so important to me and our relationship can be as romantic or platonic as you want.”

You lean up and give him a long, sweet, gentle kiss that tells him all he needs to know. He hugs into you, and smiles into the kiss. He was going to kill you. “I’m a lot to take care of.”

“I know”

“I’m a lot of work and I need a lot of patience”

“I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Even if I’m poor or fat or weird or crazy or-“

“Yes. Unconditionally.”

“Then I’m all yours.”

And he squeezes you so close “and I’m all yours.” While you two doze into sleep in each others arms.

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

Authors Notes: I was so excited to have an idea to write after having writers block for so long also like sorry to be horny on main but the devotion? Sexy and what I’m tryin to be you know? Love this and love this concept, I hope you guys love it too!

If you want to see anything or have any requests, I would love some ideas and some prompts! Any like, comment, or reblog is so appreciated!! Enjoy!!

[itsmattchou]

cause you make it better !

pairing: zb1 maknae line x gn!reader warnings: yujin + reader are in highschool, yujin and gunwooks sections are a little longer for some odd reason, cursing, english isn't my first language!!!, i guess that was it genre: fluff synopsis: reverse icks with the zb1 boys. notes: WEEKLY UPLOADS YEAHH🔥🔥 the crowd goes wild fr. part 1 is cute but hyung line version🤭🤭 feeding y'alls deluluness fr STAY TUNED

shen quanrui the two of you are on a date in the city. eating ice cream, doing some shopping- ricky insisted on spoiling you- and then just wandering through the streets talking about whatever comes to mind. while walking ricky noticed that your shoelaces became untied, he told you to stop for a second and kneeled down to tie them for you. that alone let your breath hitch, but when he looked up and had THAT look on his face? your heartbeat skipped several beats.

him tying your shoelaces and looking up at you.

kim gyuvin silly boyfriend here. he wanted to take you out on a fancy dinner date and really wanted you two to dress up fancy as if you were going to a fucking wedding or something. you were getting ready in the bathroom as gyuvin called out for you, his voice desperate. you found him in your bedroom, a tie in his hand and a big pout on his lips. "i may or may not need you to help me with the tie, y/n..." you really couldn't contain a smile at that sight.

him not being able to tie his tie alone and you helping him.

park gunwook gunwook took you to the cinema to watch a movie you wanted to watch since the first trailer dropped. he insisted on driving you back home after the movie ended and as a thank you for the wonderful date, you gave him a little suprise hug. mind you- you haven't been dating for that long (2 months) and weren't big on pda yet and you weren't sure if gunwook would mind or not. but by the way his heartbeat sped up the second your arms wrapped around his torso and your head hit his chest, or by the way his face was flushed bright red when you pulled away, he probably didn't mind it that much.

you hugging him and hearing his heartbeat speed up.

han yujin he may be your boyfriend, but first and foremost he's still your best friend. his company makes everything better; even the most dreadful and boring math class becomes bearable thanks to him. it was the last period of the day and yujin has claimed your non dominant hand while you were busy taking your (and yujins…) notes. a weird feeling on your hand however made you stop in your tracks; yujin was doodling a bunch of hearts onto your skin. he shot you his cute, innocent signature smile once he realized you were watching him.

him drawing onto the back of your hand.

[sserpente]

A/N: I’m just gonna leave this here without any explanation.

Words: 1070 Warnings: smut

Both Eddie and the Reader are over the age of 21 in my Imagines. If you’re wondering how that works if the Reader is still at school with Eddie… me too!

-

This one was on Eddie. You’d covered him after his chemistry teacher had found his cigarette supply and taken the blame because he was about an arm’s length from being suspended. After a nice and long scolding by both the chemistry teacher and the principal, you had sat in a silent room for over two hours, waiting for detention to pass quicker while reciting song lyrics in your head.

Oh, he owed you now. He owed you at least three milkshakes, a visit to Scoops Ahoy and a private D&D session—the latter of which involved the two of you going at it like wild animals but oh well.

“Hi, Wayne!” You didn’t bother to knock anymore, instead marched right in when you reached the trailer. Wayne nodded his head and lifted his arm in a casual greeting, a beer bottle in one hand and the remote in the other. He tore his gaze from the TV for a moment.

“Hey, kid. Eddie’s in his room.”

“Thanks!”

You kicked off your shoes, walking straight in. You were greeted by surprisingly quiet metal music playing in the background. As usual, Eddie’s room was a mess. Worn band shirts scattered everywhere, his school books one massive pile on his desk. His bed was unmade today and he had rolled the little shelf with his small TV away from it to face the desk chair that he was sitting on—naked from the waist down, hard and dripping cock in hand, pumping away to a porn movie playing on the TV.

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening—because as much as you wanted to draw your gaze away and leave him to his private little moment, you couldn’t. Fuck, he looked hot. Hot and shocked that you had interrupted him.

He called out your name with wide eyes, fumbling for the remote. His fingers were shaking so much—it must have been from arousal rather than his sudden nervousness—the exaggerated moaning of the female actress in the movie did not cease for a while. By the time he finally managed to switch it off and then almost fell off the chair in an attempt to cover himself with his blanket, you were on the verge of laughter.

You crossed your arms before your chest. “We need to teach you about the function of door locks,” you said, chuckling to yourself.

“Sorry, I-I wasn’t, I mean…”

“Don’t apologise. I will certainly never forget that view ever again.”

The look on his face was downright suspicious. “You’re not… mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Finally, you closed the door behind you, locked it, and sat down on his bed.

“That I’m using porn to get off instead of making out with you?”

“I wouldn’t even be mad if you got off to Carrie Fisher. We all have fantasies,” you said with a wink.

“Huh. Steve said to make sure you don’t see this shit when I checked it out.”

“Steve? You rented this from Family Video?”

“Yeah… it was Steve who recommended that one to me, actually.”

“Okay. Okay, that I did not want to know. That’s dick talk between guys.” You chuckled once more. In the meantime, Eddie shifted a little on his chair. Oh, dear. Your boyfriend must have still been painfully hard after being interrupted so rudely. Good thing it had been you to walk in on in and not Wayne. Now that would have been awkward but you would have given anything to see it.

“You could have just asked me for help though, you know.”

“You weren’t here yet, I got horny.”

“I can see that. And, uh, yeah, I wasn’t here yet because I was in detention because of you.” Eddie grinned coyly and you slid off the bed again, falling to your knees right before his chair. “You owe me for that,” you continued before pulling away the blanket and tugging his hands away from his dick to take their place.

A moan escaped his lips and he threw his head back when you began to stroke him for a while. He’d clearly lubed himself up before he’d started. You didn’t know how long he’d been going at it already before you arrived but judging by the sounds he made, he wouldn’t be much longer.

You gave him a lascivious look, pulling your hair back so it wouldn’t get in the way and bent forward, closing your lips around his tip. Tongue swirling around it and teasing his slit, you watched Eddie buck his hips to push himself deeper into your mouth as both his fleshy taste and that of the almost minty lube hit your taste buds. You hollowed your cheeks out, bopping your head up and down in a steady rhythm until you had him writhing in his chair. It took him all restraint to not grab a fistful of your hair and fuck your mouth raw, you could tell by the way he hissed and breathed through his teeth. Instead, Eddie’s hands came up to caress your hair, his right thumb stroking your cheek, urging you on.

You moaned quietly then, hoping the vibrations of your voice would edge him on even more—and when his chocolate brown eyes met yours, he was a lost cause. He only managed to watch you suck him off for a few more seconds before his arousal got the better of him and he came down your throat with an animalistic grunt, forcing you to swallow his warm cum all whilst he was jerking against the roof of your mouth. Hungrily, you kept on sucking, not letting a single drop escape.

You licked your lips when he was all spent and on the verge of oversensitivity, releasing him with a plopping sound. Eddie’s length was glistening with your saliva now, your jaw aching from your rough movements, and your panties… your panties were soaked.

“Fuck… that was fun,” he choked out, panting and giving you a cheeky grin.

“Oh, yeah?” You wiped your mouth, standing up to climb on his lap.

“Yeah.”

“Better than porn, right? Anyway, you owe me at least a dozen orgasms for saving your ass today.”

Eddie feigned exhaustion and then grinned devilishly. “Huh, I better get started right away then.”

You laughed when he lifted you up and threw you on the bed. Perhaps you should catch him watching some filthy films more often.

-

A/N: Oh well! ;-)

[obxone]

The Only One

Edited-ish. ~875 words.

The bedroom door bangs open as you rifle through your backpack, hunting for a fresh set of clothes. Your head snaps up to see Rafe Cameron in the doorway. His tall, athletic body fills the frame, his chest rising and falling quickly, and a manic look on his face until he spots you. His lips part, brow furrowing as he peers at you while you stand inside Barry’s bedroom in nothing but a towel. Your skin is still littered with water drops from your shower and the room smells like sex even now. Rafe's attention shifts to the mussed sheets before diverting back to you. A knowing look dawns across his face.

“Maybank.”

“Cameron.”

“I said I’m out!” Barry yells behind him. “Get the fuck out of my room, Rafe!”

“What’s she doing here?” He asks, jerking his chin to you when Barry steps into the room. 

Barry laughs, eyeing you in only a towel, his towel. He drags his thumb over his bottom lip before turning to Rafe. “You don’t got to worry about that, Country Club.”

Your stare back at Rafe, challenging him to press the matter. “What?”

Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he continues to openly check you out with a knowing look in his eyes. You know the thoughts that race through his mind, the images playing over and over, the sounds he probably faintly hears, the lingering touches he imagines. 

“You want to fuck her too, don’t you?” Barry claps Rafe on the shoulder, squeezing tightly. Rafe does not move to knock his hand off. Instead, he stares at you and Barry watches the kook with a prideful smirk.

The tension in the room shifts, and your skin tingles from the knowing smirk that begins to tug at Rafe’s lips. The promise of an unspoken secret rushing to be heard. His darkening eyes rake over your chest before moving back to your face. You stare back at him, and without a word from your mouth, he knows that he has the upper hand.

Rafe’s attention shifts to Barry before that trademark assured, magnetic laugh falls from his perfect lips. “I already did.”

You bite your lip and look at Barry then. His head whips around, lips parted in surprise as he gapes at you. You shrug, tilting your head to the side as your look at Barry. “What? You thought you were the only one?”

“Fuck, Peach.”

Rafe’s attention is back on you as both men openly stare at you. You can imagine the thoughts racing through their minds. One is pissed, and the other is clearly oozing with pride that he had you first.

“Now that we've covered who I've fucked, get out.” Your tone is sharp as you jerk your chin toward the door. “Both of you.”

Rafe smirks again and he bobs his head once, lips turned up as he takes a step back before he tears those heated blue eyes away from you. Barry shakes his head, still trying to understand what he just heard. 

“Cameron,” you call, and Rafe pauses, his hand on the doorframe as he looks over his shoulder at you. “You going to Figure 8?”

He does not have to respond; you already know he is. 

“Wait outside, I need a ride.”

He smirks before going as Barry mumbles to himself and follows behind him.

After getting your work clothes on, you slip out of the trailer without meeting anyone’s stare or making conversation. The few that remain are fully aware of what has transpired in the other room. You spot Rafe by his bike. His eyes rake over your body as you cross the porch. The Island Club attire you are forced to wear shows the outline of your curves without exposing too much. His bottom lip catches between his teeth again and your cheeks threaten to burn from his stare that is still fixated on you.

“Damn, Pogues, man,” Barry mutters, leaning against the railing as you start to pass him. “Do whatever the fuck you want, huh?”

You smirk and lean toward him. “I said I would fuck you Barry, I never said I was your girlfriend.” You step away, and he laughs with a shake of his head. “My father’s debts are paid.”

“Whatever you say, Peach.” He calls as you near Rafe. “You’ll be back. He won’t stay clean for long!”

You wave without looking back at him before you take the helmet Rafe offers without a word. You roll your eyes as he stares at you, waiting for you to explain yourself in the usual kook way of a stern stare. The stare-down continues, and you hear someone laugh from the porch.

Eventually, you break the silence, aware of the minutes you are losing, as you tug his helmet onto your head. “I’m going to be late,” you huff.

Again, he is silent. But he does reach forward and buckle the strap under your chin after he throws his leg over the bike to straddle it. 

“Get on, Peach.”

You roll your eyes but do as he says. He starts the bike and kicks the stand up. Without warning, he starts off, and you quickly wrap your arms around his torso, leaving Barry’s trailer and The Cut behind you without a second glance. 

(This is a story idea I'm playing with. Do you want more?)

[morganski-19]

Things I Won't Say When I'm Sober Part 5

part 1, part 4, part 6

It’s been a week since Steve’s seen Eddie. Not because he was avoiding him, at least in full. He’s only partially avoiding him. Really he’s just been busy with work and the kids. But the knowledge of what happened that night keeps rolling around in his mind in a way he doesn’t like. 

He can’t keep thinking that Eddie overheard him that morning. Heard the last strings of Steve’s confession, and even though he would have never heard that Steve liked Eddie directly, he could have heard enough to connect the dots. After the initial confession, he and Robin weren’t exactly whispering. They weren’t loud either, but with the thin walls of the trailer, it didn’t really matter. 

If Eddie heard anything from the end of the conversation, there was one fact he would definitely know, Steve liked guys. That was enough for Steve to avoid Eddie, fearing that their friendship was at the end.

Though, there was some peace that came through the worry. Steve had told another person about the knot in his stomach in the past few weeks. Honestly, for the past few years. It had just grown to the point where he couldn’t ignore it anymore. It was weird to be out to someone and have them accept you so fast, especially when you couldn’t do the same to yourself. But that helped the pain start to go away. Someone accepted him for who he is, maybe he could finally do the same. 

Steve was already at a point where he was able to accept himself, but Robin’s acceptance was the last ray of sunshine to finally help him bloom. He felt whole. For the first time in a long time, he knew what it was like to look at himself in the mirror and see him, all of him. Not someone crafted the way society wanted. Just him. It was refreshing, and terrifying all at the same time.

The phone starts to ring on his bedside table. He glances at the alarm clock, 1:30, late for anyone normal to be calling. The beat in his chest starts to race as he picks up the phone, anticipating a call for help that might be on the other end.

“Stevie,” Eddie slurs from the other end. “You’re still up”

Relief fills Steve as he slumps back into his bed. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”

“Don’t know. Prolly to talk to you.” 

“Are you drunk?”

Eddie laughs from the other end. “Maybe,” he draws out.

Steve sighs. “Go get a glass of water and maybe I’ll talk to you while you sober up.”

“But I don’t want to,” Eddie whines. Steve can imagine the pout on his face and can’t help but smile at it. “Hey, can I tell you a secret?”

“If this is your way of saying you have a secret and telling me I can’t know it just to get back at me for not telling you mine, then no.”

Eddie scoffs. “Nooo, this is different. This is a secret for your ears only, not Robin’s.”

“Ok, then you can tell me.” Steve doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop smiling.

“Yay. My secret” Eddie pauses for dramatic effect, “is that I know your secret.”

The smile on Steve’s face drops. “W-what?” 

His heartbeat starts beating fast again as tension builds in his stomach. He’s trying not to, but he’s sure his breathing quickened enough that Eddie could hear it over the phone. This was what he was worried about all week, and it happened. Eddie heard, he knew. Not just the last bit, but everything. And he sounded so happy about it. Happy that he knew the secret that Steve was so afraid to tell him. 

“Yep,” Eddie said. “I heard you and Birdie talking about it. Someone’s got a crush,” he sings songs. “And on a GUY. Don’t know why you couldn’t tell me. S’not like I would have a problem with it.”

Steve’s head stops spinning. “What?”

“And you wanna know what I think? I think that guy is a fucking idiot if he doesn’t like you back. I think that any guy would be lucky to date a guy like you, I sure would. All the guys I’ve been with were terrible, but you. You’re like … perfect.”

“Eddie,” Steve says, shocked. “What are you-”

Eddie shushes him. “Let me finish. I’m not done telling you my secret.” He pauses. “What was it again? Right, you like a guy. A guy that you don’t think likes you back with is just stupid because you’re perfect. Like you are kind and funny and pretty. Like sooo pretty, Stevie, it kills me. And when I woke you up with that nightmare, you didn’t judge me. You just, you held me. Like in a way that no one’s done before, like no one. And then that morning, I woke up in your arms and just like.” He stops mid-sentence letting the line buzz between them. 

“Eddie, are you still there?” Steve’s finding it hard to breathe, trying to convince himself that what Eddie is saying is leading up to nothing. That this is all just some cruel trick Eddie thought would be funny cause he’s drunk. 

“My real secret,” Eddie whispers into the phone, so soft that Steve can barely hear, “is that I wish I was the guy you liked. Cause I haven’t been able to sleep the same knowing you like guys, and that guy isn’t me.”

The line goes dead.

Steve’s heart starts beating out of his chest as the phone falls out of his hands. Did he just hear what he did? This all wasn’t some insane dream that his mind cooked up just to fuck with him. He rubs his eyes, trying to get rid of sleep that isn’t there. Pinching himself just to see if it was real, even though he knows that’s not how it’s supposed to work. 

What he does know, it this isn’t supposed to be this easy. Eddie isn’t supposed to like him back, he isn’t supposed to want Steve as much as Steve wants him. He isn’t supposed to call in the middle of the night in a big drunk confession and then just hang up like nothing happened. Or before Steve could even say anything. He isn’t supposed to do it in a way that Steve might not believe the next morning. 

Miracles don’t happen every day, especially for Steve and especially when it comes to people he likes. Steve isn’t this guy that people just magically like back, not in the way he likes them. He’s supposed to be the one that falls hard, breaking apart when they leave him hanging up to dry. It’s happened before and he was certain that it would happen again. 

I haven’t been able to sleep the same knowing you like guys, and that guy isn’t me. 

Eddie’s confession hangs in the air like a rope, waiting for Steve to grab onto it. Simple words of desperation and lost hope because Eddie thinks the same as Steve. That they’re not a person that the other could want. That even though the possibility is there, it would never come to fruition. There was no way the other person could ever return their feelings, so they prepared for rejection before it even started. 

Steve doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t even know if he wants to believe that it’s true. He’s spent so long thinking that this could never happen, that he never prepared for what he would do if it did. He’s at a loss just staring at the ceiling. Debating going to sleep and letting Eddie sleep off the booze or running over there to say what he’s wanted to for so long. Words that he couldn’t even fathom saying before a week ago. That he wants what he thinks he can’t, and won’t let Eddie go so easily after saying he can have it. 

Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow he would go over to Eddie’s trailer and hope that he remembers. Hope that it wasn’t just the booze talking and that all of what Eddie said is true. Tell Eddie everything, that he wants him just as much as Eddie seems to want Steve. That Eddie didn’t have to lose sleep anymore because Steve wanted him. Because Steve likes him, Steve likes him so much. 

He falls asleep hoping that when he wakes up it wasn’t all a dream.

oops, I wrote too much again. the last part will be coming next week? (actually this time)

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