#Eddy Sill

[artjipson]

11 Questions with... The Popravinas

Hi There Music Friends! This essay marks the return of our 11 Questions With... series! Yay! Thanks to Eddy Sill and The Popravinas for answering our questions. If you have any interest in answering these questions, let us know at drjytaa@gmail.com!

In the dimly lit corners of Americana, where the roots of rock ‘n’ roll intertwine with the twang of country, emerges The Popravinas—a band that embodies the spirit of a bygone era while injecting it with fresh, irreverent energy. Their latest, “3-Month Situation,” is a rollicking journey through heartache, relationships, and a hell of a good time. From the first notes, it’s evident that The…

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

things from The Halloween Update that are concerning me more than i already am about Eddie:

his Frankenstein's Monster costume turning his face (and hands. ha, hands, like the hands on a-) half yellow half blue/purple like the clocks & Sally's door. that's fucking me up a little ngl

Eddie tacks "A bit of a moral conundrum-" onto his description of Frankenstein's Monster, who he's costumed as. which seems out of place with the rest of his description. he could've said "bolts" or "white streak in his hair" or another physical trait. nope. Moral Conundrum (one could also describe his costume as "two-faced"...). and the fact that he's dressed specifically as someone who was "brought back from the dead" makes me 👁️👁️. kinda reminds me of a certain set of artworks from Clown's tumblr a while back...

Eddie, despite his whole schtick being "bad memory", was the only one to accurately recognize Sally's costume as pedrolino from the Commedia dell'arte. could be a little 'inside joke', might be something else. i suspect it's something else due to his... ah... Everything.

[zeorigir]

Eddie Art Request: Eddie Gluskin If Murkoff Corporation and Mount Massive Asylum didn't exist

its either he still got caught but sent to a normal asylum and prison (if that makes sense) or not get caught and his ass still running free (get him some help)

anyways two version :D and thank you for the request !!

[hairmetal666]

You Will Still Haunt Me chapters 8-11 live now!!!

Art by @obligatedart

[tallyhoot]

it’s storming outside :c

[nextstopwonderland]

Albums listened to in 2023, #’s 11-20:

Camera obscura - biggest bluest hi-fi (2001)

headless heroes - silence of love (2017)

Eddie Vedder - Earthling (2022)

Zappa - original motion picture soundtrack (2020)

Elvis Costello & the attractions - imperial bedroom (1982)

Dreamkid - self-titled (2022)

Judee Sill - self-titled (1971)

Judee Sill - Heart Food (1973)

The Roches - self-titled (1979)

The Roches - another world (1985)

[littledemondani]

tw: 18+, pillow humping, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fem!reader

eddie watching you hump your pillow..

he makes sure to hide beneath the sill of your window. you can’t know that he’s there..at least not yet.

after he finished with hellfire, he made his way to your place, as he has ever since the two of you met. you were only friends..friends who hung out almost daily..who shared longing glances and stolen touches here and there. but friends nonetheless.

he didn’t expect for your window to be locked shut. it never is. you always make sure to leave it cracked open for him.

his eyes wandered throughout your room to search for any sign of you, until they landed on your bed. you were completely naked, facing the foot of your bed, pillow between your legs, a look of pure bliss etched across your face.

it took him a minute to fully process the sight before him. your hips glided effortlessly against the pillow, effectively mesmerizing him. he took in your taught nipples, the way your breasts bounced with each thrust you made, your head tipping back as your clit brushed against the fabric of your pillowcase. he couldn’t hear your moans but he could bet they sounded just as hot and sexy as you looked.

he began to imagine what got you horny enough to do this. was it him? did you think of him trailing his fingers along your skin? his cock nestled nice and deep within the warmth of your cunt? making you his over and over and over again?

you move even faster and he figured you were close. he whispered words of encouragement only he could hear, “that’s it, baby. you’re doing so good. cum for me, pretty girl.”

as if you understood, your lips parted and head tilted back, legs trembling underneath you. your orgasm hit you hard and fast, and eddie couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away.

you slowly dragged your clit against the pillow, wanting to draw out the euphoric feeling that washed over you for as long as you could. when you finally, and unfortunately, started to come down, your eyes flitted towards the window, catching a wide-eyed eddie staring back at you through the glass.

[sacklerscumrag]

Metalhead Next Door

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Notes: hello :) i got the sudden urge to write for eddie munson today for some reason lol

i'm apologizing in advance for how bad it probably is. please keep in mind that i havent written anything in a long time, let alone for eddie

but if you do read it for whatever reason, thank you i love you im giving you a big kiss rn <3

Warnings: neighbors to lovers, jealous!reader, pining, oral sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 1.4K

A loud rumble from a run-down truck rang outside your trailer window, jolting you from sleep. The book you abandoned some hours ago slid off your chest as you sat on the bed to peek outside. Snow continued to fall and hardened on the window sill from earlier that morning, each flake a silent whisper against the palm of your hand as you held it out in the icy air. Metal music blared through the familiar window across from yours, drawing your attention toward the warm glow coming from inside. An overpowering scent of weed lingered between the two trailers—something you'd found comfort in within the last couple of months of living next door to the Munsons. Of course, you'd heard the rumors where Eddie was concerned, and you'd have to be blind not to see how people treated him around here. Everyone ignored him, wrote him off as a freak while telling the tale of the long-haired devil-worshiping drug dealer to anyone who would listen. But after almost a year of living next to Eddie, you realized that couldn't be further from the truth.

The first night, Eddie crept up on your front porch when you weren't looking, making himself comfortable on the wooden staircase, offering whatever joint he was nursing—all leather jacket and wild hair with a grin that could warm you to your core if you let yourself admire him for a little too long. Since then, you'd meet Eddie outside once everyone had gone to bed and let his wild D&D stories carry you through the night. The world around you seemed to soften around Eddie, swallowed up by the relentless comfort of his presence. Even when he was gone, one last tiny blaze of warmth and light continuously flickered in your chest for him.

The night air was crisp, making you cling to your blanket that much tighter as you curled up in bed. You nearly jumped when you heard a thump against your bedroom window, a snowball crumbling as another landed against the window pane.

"You're not gonna make me wait out here until I freeze, are you?" Eddie's voice trickled in from outside, making you smile before quickly opening the window and letting him climb in. "It's fucking freezing out there. Hey, sweetheart." Your heart warmed at the nickname as he brushed past you, flopped down on your mattress, and picked up your abandoned book. His hair looked like he'd run his hand through it far too many times today; the snow still crunched as he crossed one boot over another as scattered icicles clung to his jacket's leather and denim patches.

"Well, it's no D&D book, but-." Eddie teased before you cut him off by snatching the book, placing it on your bedside table, and settling beside him. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself for getting to you so quickly.

"So what's new with you, Munson?" You said as you sank next to him, sneaking glances whenever he wasn't looking.

"Same shit, different day. I learned a new Metallica song last week, gonna play it at our gig."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll play it for you sometime." You smiled at that. "Oh shit, I was supposed to call Dustin." Eddie dramatically sat up on your bed and sighed.

"Dustin? Was it important?"

"Yeah, sort of; he's been trying to set me up with this girl. Or was it Steve setting me up? All I know is I went out with her last week, and now I gotta be at Family Video tomorrow at 6 to pick out a movie for whatever the fuck a double date movie night is." Your heart sank. Eddie was being set up; he was dating someone. And it wasn't you. Figures. He would never see you as more than a friend; all you ever did was hang out and talk about D&D; he could do that with any of his other friends. This shouldn't surprise you, but that didn't make it sting any less than it did.

"Hey, you okay?" Eddie noticed your silence amidst his rambling. You were seemingly lost in your thoughts as you toyed with your fingers. Something had shifted; your warm presence from just a minute ago felt frigid and distant.

"Yeah." You wiped the tears welling in your eyes and stood from the bed, suddenly needing to put as much distance between you as possible. "Just tired, I'm just gonna go to bed." The mere thought of Eddie snuggling up on a couch with some girl made your chest feel like it would cave in any second. You quickly turned toward your window to open it, unable to face him without fear of bursting into tears.

"Sweetheart, if I did something to piss you off, I'm sorry."

"You didn't just please…I want to go to bed." Your tone was firmer than Eddie had ever heard from you. He should go, head out through the window, and call it a night. But he couldn't. "Please." Your voice slightly cracked, and with it, a piece of Eddie's heart at the realization. When you managed to turn around, his chest was inches from your face, tenderness filling those big, brown, beautiful eyes darting back at you. His ring-clad hand cupped your cheek, skimming over your skin delicately like you would break under his touch.

Before you knew it, your mouth was on his. Your arms around his neck; he tasted like cigarettes and mint from the gum he anxiously chewed before you came in. It was intoxicating. Chills spread across your skin when his hands slid across your waist, pressing you closer to him. It didn't take long for Eddie's need for you to become apparent with feverish hands pushing you back until the desk bumped against your ass; Eddie tapped your thigh to signal you to sit on the hard surface, standing in between your legs and trailing his lips down to your neck and chest. Your hands tangled in his curls, breathing in as much of him as possible before he pulled away slightly.

"Eddie." You paused, studying his face for a moment; face flushed, hair tussled, and lips swollen and pink from your own; he was perfect. "I'm sorry. I should've told you how I felt, I-. Eddie's lips interrupted you with a searing but brief kiss as he spoke against your lips.

"Don't you dare apologize. I've been waiting so fucking long for this." A smile spread across your face, and relief flooded your chest. You tugged on his vest to draw him back to your lips as his hands began to knead your thighs, core clenching at the feeling. Whimpers escaped you from just his lips on your skin. His mouth worked its way along your neck, lifting your shirt and continuing to work his way down until he was kneeling before you.

"Can I?" You nodded as Eddie's ring-clad fingers hooked onto your shorts, pulling them off and discarding them on the floor along with your underwear. He hooked one leg over his shoulder and kissed the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "God, you have no idea how bad I've needed to taste you." Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue begin expertly working along your folds, then back toward your clit. It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside you, then another. The chill of his rings pressing on your most sensitive spots as he plunged them in and out of you had you arching your back and squeezing your thighs tighter around Eddie. Your chest heaved; every whimper and moan that escaped was like music to his ears. Eddie consumed you like a man starved; it was like the more pleasure he drew from you, the more he wanted. He couldn't get enough. He teased your clit between his lips and began to suck hard. Eddie's movements were relentless. Your eyes screwed shut, and your core tightened until it snapped. Eddie's hand dug into the flesh of your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed against him until you were practically pushing him away. He could see the blissed look on your face as he stood and wrapped your legs around his waist, carrying you over to bed. Once you were settled, Eddie stepped toward the still-open window.

"Don't go," you whispered; a pang of fear hit you. Eddie smirked to himself before shutting the window securely, throwing his jacket on your nightstand, and crawling in beside you.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

[calumfmu]

all in your head, but I want nonfiction.

You knew who you married to at this point, you really couldn't be mad at him for handling his affairs overseas. He was responsible for everything and more you could've wanted. Everything except his time.

You were the woman of the house, responsible for the affairs over here. And the tattooed man lingering in the yard was the perfect thing to start with.

or; Steddie x reader. (business man!Steve, worker!Eddie, stay at home wife!reader) cw: 18+, mdni, pure smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (female and male receiving), fingering, back shots (yes pls), creampie, nipple sucking, threesome, mutual masturbation, slight hair pulling kink, use of the nickname Stevie, brief mentions of alcoholism and drug abuse, (7.7k+ words of pure smut)

It was three months this time, he had been gone. Six total, if you didn't count the two weeks that he was home in between trips. You were really starting to miss your husband, craving his presence, beginning to feel the emptiness of the house you were in.

"Greece is good this time of year," Steve commented, face blurred on the FaceTime call. You hummed, swirling the glass of Cabernet in your hand.

"Yeah, I wouldn't know," you teased, smacking your tongue against your teeth. A quirk of his eyebrow thrown in your direction, the screen lagging slightly as his mouth moved before the words could come out. You often did this, poked fun at the situation, but as of late, the truth has started to leak through the cracks of your words.

"Babe, you know I have to-"

And in that second, the call ended in three abrupt beeps, 'Called Failed' appearing in his place. With a sigh, you threw your phone aside, used to this type of instance occurring. As much money as your husband made, you could barely get the time to speak to him during this time of the year, his service always being the worst or calls being rushed or interruptions always happening.

You knew who you married at this point, you really couldn't be mad at him for handling his affairs overseas. He was responsible for the roof of the mansion over your head, making you a stay at home wife, supplying you with everything you could ever want without even having to voice that. Everything except his time. In the mean time, you’ve buried your time with drinking, book clubs on top of book clubs, expensive dinners alone, and loads of ogling at the men in town you could look at, but not touch.

Seeing your husband, touching your husband only a total of three times in the past half year was an aching feeling, loneliness creeping in at the worst times of the day. Time passed so slowly, it was hard to imagine even seeing him again some days.

You started at the window, gripping the wine glass at your hand as you reached for the decanter perched on the window sill. The sound of the alcohol pouring into the glass filled the room, your wandering eyes searching through the yard for anything to entertain you.

Bingo.

A tall man, curly hair long and pulled back into a bun. Short sleeved, white shirt tight against his frame as he paraded through the grass, boots stopping every now and then as he glanced at the plants in the garden. Your brow furrowed as the confusion set in, wondering who this man was in your yard and yet so interested in learning who he is.

You tapped on the window loudly, knuckles rapping against the pane of the glass as you tried getting his attention.

“Hey!” You called, waving your arm in the air in between knocks.

The man in your yard heard something, his own face turning up as he looked around himself. His eyes searched the grass area before glancing up, settling on your figure displayed through the glass.

“What are you doing?” You shouted, aware that there wasn’t a chance he heard what you were saying. To confirm your suspicions, his hand rose to shield his eyes, the sun glaring down at him as he stared up at you.

He mouthed something, shrugging his shoulders as the two of you held eye contact.

“What are you-” You cut yourself off with a huff, turning on one heel to march downstairs, intent on swearing up a storm, telling him to get off of your property before your husband has something to say about it. And even if the likelihood of getting said husband even on the phone was low, this stranger truly didn’t have to know.

The silk robe you wore flowed in the air as you made yourself way down the stairs, one hand still gripping your wine glass, the other pinching it closed, lounge wear not exactly appropriate for the interaction you were about to have. The four minutes it took you to trek through the house and out the door had you praying he had disappeared, become a figment of your imagination by now.

Double doors swinging open, you stepped out onto the porch, your own hand raising above your eyebrows to block out the UV rays.

To your luck (or despair), he was still there, crouched down as he looked at the array of sprinkler systems.

“What are you doing?” You accused, stepping out further of the house as he shot up in your direction. Surprise was written all over his face, deep lines appearing on his forehead.

“Hi, ma’am, I’m—”

“You have about three seconds to get off of my property,” you tightened the robe around your chest, noticing the way his eyes dipped to explore the expanse of your chest shown.

“Ma’am, I’m—”

“My husband’s going to be home any moment,” A lie. And you both knew it by the way his eyes squinted a little. You doubled down. The wine was starting to take effect. “And he’ll have you arrested. We know the chief.”

An amused smirk passed on his face, smugness oozing from his features. He waited a beat, eyes twinkling with humor.

“Are you finished?”

Your mouth dropped open, shock written all your face. The mocking, you definitely weren’t used to it. You hated to lean into the spoiled stay at home wife trope, but you were used to people folding at you, kissing your ass based on the family that you happened to marry into.

“Excuse m—”

“I’m friends with Steve,” he spit out, smiling even wider at the wide eyes you gave him. “Eddie. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

His hand shot out to shake yours, dropping slowly as you just stared down at it. You could drop the act now, realizing that this man had to have been telling the truth. You hadn’t heard anyone call your husband by his first name in years, ‘Harrington’ being the only calling card.

You took a sip of the dark alcohol in your grasp, glancing away from him as you rested a hand on your hip. His eyes chose to linger over your body, cleavage exposed through your lounge wear. Huffing, you pulled the cover up closed once more, warmth tinging your cheeks.

“And your business here is? If you knew Steve, you would know he doesn’t just invite friends over.”

“Oh, uhm,” Eddie took a step closer to you, standing side to side as he began to point over the yard. You suddenly noticed the clipboard and phone in his other hand. “I’m the new groundsman, taking over the landscaping, plans for the new yard, the whole lot.”

Ah. That did sound somewhat familiar, mentioned somewhere between the bottles of Dom Perignon you and your best friend shared the other week over a FaceTime call with Steve.

He turned towards you again, his eyes wandering for the thousandth time. You couldn’t tell if the heat was making your robe slip a little looser or if the wine was truly getting to you.

“You must be the wife,” Eddie smiled, toothy grin settling over his face as he held eye contact. In the length of this interaction, the sun has began to dip lower in the sky. You got a good look at him, not seeing any obvious similarities on how he would be friends with your husband, in any universe. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Define a lot,” another sip of your wine down the hatch. The double pour was nearly gone by now.

“Woman of the house.” He took a step closer to you, pushing the clipboard down in front of him. “Takes care of things for Stevie over here.” The tone of his voice shifted. “Could get terribly lonely sometimes.”

The concept of looking and not touching was getting a little harder for you. Gasping, you turned towards the house, downing the last of your beverage.

“I’m going to get more.”

You took a few steps towards the house before briefly turning your body to him. He was watching your movements, head tilted to the side slightly as he stared down at the sway of your hips.

“Are you coming or not?”

He was quick on his feet, tracking you on your heels as the two of you made your way up the grand entrance. The coolness of the house, covered in marble and white instantly taming the heat taking over your body. Eddie let out a low whistle, his neck craning up to stare at the high ceilings, chandelier hanging above the entry way. Everything about the place was pristine and huge, money screaming even the gloss of paint covering from the walls.

The sound of his boots were loud following your bare feet, making his way into the kitchen behind you.

“Nice one, Steve,” Eddie laughed to himself, shaking his head. You went over to the wine rack on one end of the kitchen, ripping off a bottle without even glancing at the label. Another crystal glass followed, you placing it in front of the man before you.

His finger was running along the marble countertops, his eyes wide as he studied the detail. Just as you went to pour a glass for him, his hand shot out.

“Oh no, hun. I can’t do wine,” he rushed, a smile on his face. You ignored the nickname, hand paused as the bottle was tilted in the air. Staring up at him, your face was emotionless.

“Sober?”

He opened his mouth to speak, cutting himself off with a laugh. “Not exactly. Just makes me… a little reckless,” he finished, placing the clipboard down on the counter.

A smirk of your own crossed your lips before you poured the glass anyways, sliding it over to him once a hefty serving was in front of you. He shook his head as he reached for it despite his own words, swallowing down a gulp.

The two of you stood in silence, devious looks in your eyes. You let your eyes wander over him, taking in the white shirt he wore, how it hugged him just right. It felt wrong, thinking of your husband’s friend like this. It had been so long since any type of male interaction, you couldn’t help but feel tempted.

“Babe?”

You jumped where you stood, your topped off glass fumbling in your fingertips. Your best friend appearing around the corner, her loafers sounding out through the corridors.

“Robin, Jesus Christ—”

She stopped just as she rounded the corner, eyes darting in between the two of you. The look she gave you made you speechless, her all knowing eyes saying everything she needed to.

“And you are…?”

Eddie put down his glass, a glance thrown in your direction once more before he took a few steps towards Robin. She squared up her shoulders, amusement on her face.

“Leaving,” he smiled, passing her. You and the other girl in the room watched him making his way over to the main corridor. He turned to you one last time before disappearing. “Mrs. Harrington, it was a pleasure, hun.”

He disappeared, a wink thrown in your direction. Your breath caught in your throat at his last move, shaky hands bringing the glass of alcohol to your lips.

“Hun??” Robin questioned once the front door slammed behind him. She came to your side, eyebrows raised behind her wispy bangs. “Hun!”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed the fingers away from you as she pulled on the hem of your robe.

“Rob—please.”

“Uh uh, babe. We’re going to talk about this,” she laughed, taking the glass from your fingertips. She took her own swig, grimacing at the bitter taste.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

A dead pan look covered her. “All I’m saying is Harrington better watch out. He’s got some competition.”

You laughed bitterly at her words, taking a seat at one of the bar chairs. It was cool against your exposed legs, the heat from the moment finally drifting from them.

“Well, Harrington,” you mocked the last name she used, the both of you realizing if anyone had the right to call him Steve, it was her. “Was the one who hired him, new house job or whatever.”

“Consider that a gift,” she shrugged, laughing loudly as you shoved her shoulder. Heat pooled at your cheeks (and between your legs).

“Robin!”

“I’m just saying! He probably put an ad in the paper or something: Lonely Housewife Looking to Fuck.”

You dropped your head in your hands, laughter bubbling out at her words. She couldn’t get more ridiculous than this. A gasp left your mouth, your eyes peaking between the spaces of your fingers as you looked at her.

She was looking at the clipboard he had forgotten, a scrap of paper on top of the various items.

“I’d dust off the cobwebs, babe,” she giggled, sliding over the board to you. You peaked down at what was written, your heart racing at the scribble next to his number.

‘For the lonely wife. We could talk business. xx Eddie.’

It had gotten interesting the last few weeks, the second story window becoming your favorite spot to watch Eddie work in the yard. The sweltering heat was your best friend behind the AC of your home, choosing to enjoy the way Eddie looked in the Indiana heat. Tight tank tops, tattoos exposed, hair pulled to the back of his head with loose curls framing his face.

He barked off orders to his crew, always cracking jokes with them, teeth bared in a grin. He was clearly a joy to be around, spreading humor to even you from yards away.

It was a cat and mouse game you could call it, Eddie clearly showing off his muscles and sex appeal while you played the other side, risking just how little of clothing you could get away with inside the comfort of your own home. You passed in front of windows, dropping the shoulders of your silk robes as you pretended to get distracted, bending over to grab ‘forgotten’ items on the floor.

You knew he knew what you were doing. He was aware of it the entire time, his own smiles thrown in your direction as you began to push your limits of what could be acceptable for looking, and not touching.

The shrill ringing of the FaceTime call brought you out of your observations, Steve’s contact appearing on screen. You slid open the call, smiling brightly when his face appeared, styled hair, button down open, exposing that silver chain and his chest full of hair.

“There’s my handsome boy,” you beamed, blowing a kiss to the screen. Steve smiled brightly, pressing his lips to the camera.

“And my beautiful wife,” he cooed, holding up the camera wide to give you a view of him. He was on a coast somewhere, Mediterranean. The view was beautiful, waves crashing as the sun was nearly gone from the sky.

“What are you up to, my love?”

You glanced out the window at Eddie, noticing his crew was gone. He stood alone in the center of the yard, taking a look at the landscaping design prints.

“Just… relaxing,” you let the camera show you resting against the window seat in your room, lingerie on display. The camera only showed a flash of your cleavage before you brought the camera back up, a shy, yet devious look on your face.

“What do y—oh.”

It was quick, the way Steve moved. Your phone screen showed a blur of Steve’s clothing, the sound of his footsteps, and the sliding of a glass door before he was shown again on the screen, his hair fanning out on a pillow on a bed.

“Tell me more.”

From the angle, you could tell that Steve had began to touch himself at the thought of you. You showed more of yourself, manicured hand beginning to run down your chest, trailing down your stomach to rest on the front of your panties.

It had been months since you last did this over the phone, the timing always so wrong or one of you not in the mood or always something.

“Thinking of you, Steve.”

It couldn’t be a lie if you were omitting part of the truth. He didn’t need to know you were thinking about Eddie as well.

“Fuck.”

The phone dropped against his chest, showing black before he picked it up again, a flushed look on his face. You giggled slightly, spreading your legs against the window bench as you showed more of yourself. Your hand slipped down the front of your underwear, teasing slightly as you ran the pads of your fingertips against your clit.

“Wish I was there with you, baby,” Steve sighed, eyes closed as slick noise began to be heard through the phone. You brushed your clit harder, whimpering as you thought of your husband touching himself to the thought of you.

Glancing out the window, Eddie was still distracted, back turned towards you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you dipped a finger lower, entering yourself.

“I miss you so much, Steve,” a whine left your throat. He let out a shuddered moan.

“You miss me, baby?”

Nodding, you pushed in another finger, the sound of your own slick filling your eyes. Pleasure began to course through you, an ache settling at your core.

“What do you miss the most?”

His tooth was dug into his bottom lip, a fucked out look on his face from his own hand. You could only imagine how he was feeling, achingly hard across the world from his wife who just looked so tempting.

“I miss your—fuck Steve—I miss your cock,” a whimper fell from you, your chest heaving as your fingers crooked against that spot deep inside you. You weren’t going to last long, this feeling had been building inside you for weeks.

“Oh my G—”

Steve’s side of the phone fell once again, a loud groan heard before the call dropped, the dial tone loud in the room. Tears pricked in your eyes as you tossed your phone to the side, leaning your head against the window as you looked down in the yard once more, fingers moving swiftly in and out of your wetness.

You had an audience now.

Eddie was staring up at you, look of shock on his face as he held the plans in his hand. A look from him alone was all you needed before coming, pussy throbbing around your digits, legs squeezing shut.

It was the most intense orgasm you had in a while, your body tensing up with release as pleasure washed over you. It took a moment before you came to, fingers leaving your core as you brushed once, twice more over your clit, riding out the feeling.

You didn’t have the nerve to look outside again, shame washing over you as you realized what had just happened.

Phone ringing once again, your shaky hand reached over the grab it, answering it to see Steve, face flushed and lip bitten red on the other end.

“I’m sorry, baby—This fucking service over here, I’m sorry,” he rushed, eyes apologetic. That puppy dog look you fell for was staring at you, grainy as his phone struggled to keep up. “Did you—”

You barely nodded, eyes hooded while you came down from your high.

“Babe, it’s okay.”

“No, I just—I’m sorry.”

“Steve,” he cut off his rambling as you gave him a stern look. You really did run things around the Harrington home. “I’m okay, really.”

“I love you.”

You smiled, blowing him another kiss. “I love you t-”

A male’s voice called from his end of the phone, immediately distracting both you and your husband. Sighing, you knew what was coming.

His face was sincere as he turned back to you, lips fixed in a pout.

“I gotta—”

You waved him off, sitting up slightly as you closed the silk around your frame. “Yeah, yeah, go handle business, Harrington.”

That’s why he loved you. No matter how much this truly did affect you, and how much you wished you could have more than a 10 minute call, you always were so supportive. He did support the lifestyle that you always dreamed of, even if it did come with certain circumstances that weren’t ideal.

“I love you, baby.” He moved to hang up the phone, pausing before ending the call. “Tell Ed I said hey, by the way.”

You swore your heart stopped beating in that moment as he left.

You had resorted to staying inside, avoiding Eddie and his crew that occupied your lawns during the day hours. The deep insides of your home without windows facing them became your isolation points. It was everything and more for you to avoid him, guilt creeping into the pit of your stomach.

You'd even gone as far as avoiding Robin and her prying eyes. She had known something was going on with you, felt it deep in her soul. That woman knew you like the back of her hand, could recognize every shift of emotion you'd experience, knew something had gone down between the two of you even if touching wasn't necessarily involved.

("Is there something wrong, babe? You've barely touched your Pomerol." The eye roll you gave her could win awards.)

It was like something shifted in the air, grey clouds pulling in and thunder rumbling so hard, you could feel it in your chest. The next time you happened to pass in front of the foyer window you had seen that Eddie and his crew were quickly gone, not expecting the change in weather events.

Relaxation began to sag its relief at your shoulders, no longer feeling like a prisoner in your own home. It was a long time coming, you hadn't felt this much relief in your system since that after that Hargrove heir you briefly dated back in '06.

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts, Robin's image immediately popping up into your mind. It was probably time for her to finally confront you, bring Steve into it somehow and blame the Benzos for acting the way you had been lately. (It had nothing to do with it.)

You threw open the door, the weight of it slightly swinging your body. Your eyes didn't meet the person at first, an infamous eye roll already on the verge, "Rob, I don’t want to t—Oh."

It was Eddie in all his glory, T-shirt glued to his body from the rain that began to pour, curls beginning to hang loosely from the bun he wore, cheeks red and flushed. He breathed heavy upon seeing you, a smile ghosting his lips.

"Hi, hun," his voice was low, a slight hint of something in it.

You didn't know what to say, glancing behind you as if there was anyone to catch you for even thinking terrible thoughts. His eyes followed yours.

"Well, can I come in?"

"Oh." You swung the door a little wider, cringing at the way his work boots tracked in water from outside.

He shook out his hair like a dog, the droplets dampening you from afar. You didn't have the nerve to say anything to him, gobsmacked from the fact he was in front of you like a Greek God, beautiful as ever, but tempting in the worst way possible.

"I got stuck outside... truck wouldn't start," he explained, looking around the house as if it were the first time that he was in here. The realization of the scene in front of you finally caught up, you rushing to action to try and be the welcoming host that you always were.

"I think... here, come, Steve should have something you could change into," you said, beginning to lead him upstairs. You stopped at the base of the spiral staircase, pointing at his boots. "You better not."

He beamed at your words, quirking his eyebrow at you as if you said the funniest thing ever. Toeing them off quietly, he then followed your lead to your upstairs bedroom. He stared at you all while doing it, the tension in the room growing even at the thought of him undressing even slightly.

The track there felt like you were walking the green mile, Eddie close behind you as you lead him to the walk-in closet. He was silent, the only sounds of his breathing giving him away.

Back to him, you opened the panel hiding Steve's lounging clothes, rows of white and creme and pastel materials appearing. You felt his presence behind you, something like a predator creeping on its prey.

"I think he's—what are you, a size f—" Your breath hitched on your throat as you felt his fingers touch your forearms, guiding your hands down from the clothing.

His lips brushed the cartilage of your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Tilting your head to the side, your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of him finally touching you.

His hand trailed up your arm, snaking around your exposed neck, a light kiss being pressed to the skin in front of your ear. You leaned your head back against him, a cut off groan leaving you as you relished in this moment.

"I've been waiting on this, hun," He whispered, reaching one hand down to your waist to pull you flush against him.

You gasped at the feeling of him against your backside, his body just as firm as you expected. The other hand cupped against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head back even further so his lips could press into the junction of your neck.

"You've looked so good," he continued. "So tempting."

Your hands reached up to grab at his arm, your ass pushing even further into him. He walked backwards with you in his grasp, falling against the large ottoman in the center of the closet. It was big enough to seat the two of you, his large frame sprawled in the center of it while you sat petite in his lap, legs on either side of his, back pressed into his chest.

"I can't believe Stevie leaves you here. All alone. So vulnerable."

A whimper left your mouth as he leaned back slightly, pulling you with him. The hand that was once around your waist snaked down to your front, dipping down into the front of your silk sleep shorts.

"Eddie." You whimpered, his name coming out in a choke as he ghosted over your clit.

He was teasing in his movements, bringing you right to the precipice of pleasure. The second he got close to pressing down firm and just right, he would remove his touch, only to ghost down lower to tease your dampening hole.

"What do you need?"

You groaned, spreading your legs further as he continued in his movements. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you wanted to refuse to give in, refuse to have yourself beg for him. But it had been months after all, the only human touch you'd experience was from yourself.

"I need you."

It was a quiet whine into the room, almost inaudible behind the heavy breathing. That one word was all that he needed, his hand fully pressing into your cunt, swirling your clit in a way that had your head spinning.

The choked sob that left your mouth earned a groan of his own, loud and just as wanting as your own. Your head was leaned back against him, your neck exposed, mouth wide open and turned towards the ceiling.

Eddie's mouth was sucking and licking along your neck, his heavy breathing tickling at your spine as he dipped a finger to press into you, thumb circling your clit. The digit stretched you wide, wetness pooling down onto his hand.

"You get this wet just for me?"

Your hips were grinding against his hand, wanting more from him as he finger fucked you.

"Eddie please."

"I know, hun, I know." He removed his hand from you, standing you up and off his lap. You whimpered at the loss of contact, squeezing your legs together as he was sprawled in front of you.

He reached his hands towards you, stopping at the hem of your tank top to pull it up and over you, exposing your naked breasts to him. A glimmer of arousal appeared in his eyes, his teeth dug into his bottom lip as he stared at your chest, hand reaching up to cup at the globes. Leaning up, he took one nipple into his mouth from his seated position, licking and sucking at the hardened nub.

It was like you found yourself in heaven, sudden pleasure finding you all at once. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pulled him into your chest even further, whining at the contact of his mouth on your skin.

He traded onto the other nipple, squeezing the abandoned one between his fingers. He moaned in between the loud sucking, making a show of how much he loved the taste of you.

Pulling away, his fingers found the hem of your shorts. The material pooled down at your feet, your stark nakedness becoming apparent in the giant room against his clothed body.

He drank you in, his eyes roaming your body as you stood in front of him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he groaned, shaking his head in disbelief.

He reached down to his pants, unbuttoning the jeans and sliding down the zipper ever so slowly. It was torture, watching him undress himself, the slide of his jeans down his legs, dropping down to his ankles with his boxers to follow.

He pulled his shirt over his head, spreading his legs wide as he leaned back on the ottoman. His cock was fully free, springing to full attention as he took a hold of it. Dropping your eyes down to ogle at the sheer beauty of it, head dripping wet with precum, long and thick with a vein running down the middle.

Eddie smirked at your fascination, ushering you closer to him with the curve of his finger.

You took a seat on his lap, legs caging him in as you settled over his cock, head pressing at your entrance. As he pressed in slightly, your eyes bulged slightly, realizing that in no way you were not prepared for his size.

His lips pursed into a shushing motion, "Shh, hun, it's okay."

He guided your hips down onto him, pressing deep into you. The feeling of his cock split you wide open, a strained moan pouring out of you. Your fingers wrapped around his neck, gripping at him to ease the stretch you were feeling.

Giving you only a second of breathing time, he gripped at your waist, urging you up and down on his shaft, thrusting into you shallowly.

He hit you deep, hitting every spot you forgot was inside of you, pleasure creeping through your body.

"F-fuck Eddie," your moans were load in the room, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass growing louder as he became more brutal in his movement.

Pulling you against him, he slotted his lips with yours, harshly nipping at the skin, sinking his teeth into your lips, sucking your tongue into his mouth. You were lost in the pleasure, soaking wet around him as he fucked into you.

His fingers were splayed across your hips, dipping onto the curve of your ass as you bounced on his cock. Your orgasm was approaching quick, a lot quicker than you had imagined.

"You wanna cum for me, babe?" He mouthed against you, lips not leaving yours as your vision began to fog.

The curve of his cock hit your spongey wall repeatedly, urging completion suddenly. Your body began to tense up, legs shaking as you approached your high, cock-drunk on this feeling.

"Eds, I'm go—"

Your orgasm washed over you, tensing your spine as he fucked you through it, clit throbbing as it brushed that thatch of hair as the base of his cock. He was quick to follow, pulling out just in time to come over you, painting white over the bottom of your stomach.

It was messy, dripping over the two of you as the come down approached you. You took a moment, breathing deeply as your eyes briefly shut, head falling against his shoulder while you relaxed into him.

He was breathless, wrapping his arms around you to settle into your lap.

"I've been waiting on this a while," he admitted, sighing deep into your neck. You nodded at his words, agreeing, yet speechless for the mind-blowing orgasm you had just experienced.

He leaned back, pressing a small kiss to your mouth before looking into your eyes, head leaning against your own.

"Round two? I could use a shower."

He laughed at your words, shock evident in his eyes at your boldness, but jumping at the opportunity, throwing your body over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

As the dreary weather settled outside, you couldn't be more thankful for the turn of events. There was a long night ahead of you.

The morning light crept through the drawn curtains, your naked body sprawled out against the white sheets. Drawing slowly into consciousness, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, reaching beside you.

The bed was cold, Eddie's figure obviously missing from your side for who knows how long.

Memories of last night came flooding back to you, the positions that he had you in bringing out the soreness in your body. There were visions of you propped up against the shower wall, your legs thrown over his shoulders, pressed to your chest, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, until you couldn't give any more.

Draping the bed sheet around your naked body, you sat up in bed, perking up at the smell of fresh coffee brewing. There was a skip in his step as you heard him coming down the hall, energy coming back to you as you imagined what was to come, breakfast in bed, getting bent in between courses.

Your smile dropped from your face as you saw him, large cup in hand as he made his way into the room. Steve.

His perfectly styled brown hair, that charming smile as he stared at you, raising his eyebrows as he saw you relaxed in bed. Your nakedness seemed like a lot, even in the privacy of your own shared bedroom.

"There's my girl," he smiled, placing the mug down on the bedside table before leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. Your hand subconsciously came up to cover the side of your neck, dark purple bruises had to have been there from the events of last night.

"S-Steve, what are you doing here?"

He fake pouted, a scoff leaving his mouth. "Three months, and that's all you got?"

The sudden realization that your husband was right here hit you, a smile crossing your features as you wrapped your arms around him. He collapsed on top of you, laughing loudly as you attacked him with kisses, your lips covering every inch of skin that you could find.

"Relax, relax," he cackled, pressing his own kisses to you in between attacks.

Pulling away, he took a good look at you, the most loving smile covering his face. Guilt found you, pooling deep in your chest and the pit of your stomach. Your loving husband, being away to support you, only to come home and find his wife in this position, a classic case of infidelity.

"Steve," your voice fell short as you stared into his auburn eyes. His brow furrowed, his thumb coming up to swipe at your eyebrow, smoothing the crinkled skin.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I just—" Cue the dramatics. Tears began to well in your eyes as you processed the situation, he didn't deserve this. There was nothing he could do to calm you down, the hitching of your breath in your throat, the choked sob leaving your mouth as you struggled over the words to say.

"Did you miss me that much?"

You choked even harder at his words, pulling you into his arms as your vision became blurry. It was getting even worse for you.

"Baby..." There was a warning tone in his words, his patience growing thin as you wouldn't let up. You brought yourself together, hiccuping slightly as you stared up into his eyes. Your mouth opened and closed, the words to say leaving you.

You didn't need to say anything as his eyes finally decided to trail lower than your face, noticing the dark bruises forming along the side of your neck. His eyebrows raised slightly as the rest of his face remained emotionless, his thumb tracing over the skin.

"I don't know what to say," you said, hanging your head away from him. You couldn't look him in the eyes as he studied the hickies left behind from Eddie.

"I see you got my present," he whispered, running the pad of his finger over your neck.

Your head shot up to look at him, eyes wide and confused.

"You-what are you...? Steve—what?" You didn't know what to say to him, confused on what was even happening right now. He was so stoic, you couldn't read him. His eyes found yours, humor in his eyes.

"Eddie. My present."

There was a moment of silence as you processed his words, memories of the past few weeks knowing the mentioned man passing through your mind. Realization hit you, knowing that this man in front of you was so calculated, everything had to have been him.

"Why didn't you say anything!" You wanted to kill him, but wanted to kiss him at the same time.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he shrugged, smirking at you as relief crossed over your face. You wiped the hot tears that had streaked your cheeks, embarrassed of the thought you could even betray him.

"How did you even—are you sure this wasn't a test I just failed?"

He laughed at your words, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "I promise, baby."

You sighed in relief as he kissed you, fingers underneath your chin to pull you closer into him. Kissing this man felt like a dream that would've never came true, a surprise of your life time brought to its fullest extent.

His mouth was as soft as you remembered, taste as sweet as the last time. All those months of anticipation were worth the wait, feeling like it was truly nothing.

He leaned over your body, pressing you down into the mattress as the sheet began to fall away from your body. With your fingers pulling open the button down he wore, his chest became exposed, firm muscle rippling underneath your touch.

"You beat me to it, Stevie."

A gasp left you as you pulled away from your husband, head craning towards the door. Eddie stood in the frame, white bath towel draped loosely over his hips, hair dripping wet from a shower. He took in the sight of the two of you tangled on the bed, Steve's shirt hanging half off of him, the sheet gone from your body.

Glancing up at the man above you, you saw the smirk he was giving Eddie, canines exposed. It was like you were looking at someone completely different from the man you've known for years, an evil, sexually driven person in front of you.

"You going to stand there, Munson or...?"

With a smirk of his own, he was headed over to you two, towel dropping from his body. His cock was already hard and heavy between his legs, dripping with anticipation as he threw himself on the bed. Immediately, his hands found your body, headed straight towards your hard nipples with his mouth quick to follow.

A strangled moan escaped you as the shock settled over, Steve leaning up on his knees to get rid of his pants.

The belt was thrown across the room, his eyes not leaving the two of you once as he undressed.

"Wait—" You breathed, pushing Eddie off of you. The two men stared down at you, scared of your next move, that you would end whatever this was right now. You looked towards Steve, eyebrows raised. "Are you okay with this?"

Steve's eyebrows raised as he glanced in between the two of you, his hand pulling his dick out of his boxers, pushed down to his thigh. Your eyes dropped down to take view, mouth watering at the sight.

"Let's just say... we have a history of sharing."

He winked at Eddie before diving between your legs, nose immediately pressed to your cunt. You didn't have time to even think about what he said, figuring that it was a topic to explore at a much later time.

His tongue quickly found your clit, circling the nub before licking up the length of your slit. Your thighs squeezed the side of his head, a whine filling the room as Eddie sat up to stare at the show. His own hand tangled in Steve's mane, pulling him closer to you as he sopped you up. The groan he let out vibrated against your core, urging another wave of wetness out of you.

"F-fuck Ste-"

You couldn't even get the words out as his finger pressed at your hole, pushing in a single digit. It curled against your wall, pressing into your pleasure point. Your head was thrown back into the pillows against the headboard, white hot pleasure tingling at your spine.

Eddie leaned down to lick at your nipple, eyes intently watching Steve suck at your cunt, chin growing more wet from your juices.

"Baby-please-"

He nodded, glancing up to make eye contact with the two of you. Not moving, he inserted another finger into you, moving at a faster pace. You whimpered even louder, spreading your legs wider to get him deeper inside of you.

"You want to share?" Eddie laughed, sitting up to stroke at his hard cock. A pearl of white beaded at the tip, squeezed out by the cuff of his hand.

Steve smirked around your clit, pulling away at the retort as he pulled you up to meet him. Turning you around, you were maneuvered to your hands and knees, ass pressed into the air. He ran the head of his cock against your hole, dragging it up over your ass and back down to your cunt, pressing at the sensitive hole.

Hissing at the feeling, you were still sore from the multiple rounds you went with Eddie the previous night.

"You had her all night, 's my turn, Munson," Steve breathed, pressing to the hilt in a smooth motion. The two of you groaned as he fully pressed into you. He paused in his movements, hand pressed to the small of your back as you both adjusted.

Eddie shrugged, moving in front of you with his legs splayed wide open, hand stroking his shaft.

You knew what to do, leaning down onto your elbows to take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking at it. His hand gripped the back of your head, pushing you down farther than you expected. The gag that left your mouth filled the room, catching Steve off guard as his hips stuttered inside of you.

"Watch it," he hissed, pausing only slightly before pulling out and pressing back in all the way. His cock had a curve in it, damn near pressing into your cervix as he fucked you.

Eddie was smirking, hand still on your head as you began to bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

You were so filled on both ends, you were seeing stars. Both men in your presence were making you feel like you had lost it, the heavy alcohol consumption over the past few months maybe had really gotten to you.

Your hand trailed off of Eddie's dick, dropping down to cup at his balls, rolling them between your fingers. Eddie's head fell against the headboard, his hips stuttering as you took him into your mouth.

With every thrust of Steve's hips, you were rocked into the tattooed man in front of you, choking down further and further. It was all becoming a little too much, both holes being filled beyond your limits.

"Just like that, baby, fuck," Steve moaned, hand inching up your spine to rest at the top of your spine. He leaned over, forcing your legs a little wider so his cock pressed even further into you. His hand found the base of your neck, pushing your head even further onto Eddie.

The motion had Eddie groaning, hips suddenly spilling as he came, warm liquid spurting down your throat. It had you choking, pulling off of him in time for it to spill out of your mouth, dripping back down onto him. The entire moment was so dirty, so filthy, it caused a chain reaction, Steve pressing into you once, twice more before cumming deep.

You pulsed around him, squeezing tight as your own orgasm took over you. For a split moment, you think you passed out, vision blurring, going black briefly before you came to, laying down on your stomach, legs shaking.

Your hand came to wipe at your eyes, tears pooling at the corners from the high you just experienced. There was no way you were coming down from this, the purest form of pleasure you think you'd ever experienced.

Eddie was leaning against the headboard, cock swelling down after his spend, his hand running over your skin as you leaned against his thigh. Steve was half way on you, his own breath catching from the high.

"You okay there, hun?"

Eddie's voice was raspy, his eyes wandering over you and your husband. Nodding, you threw him a shaky thumbs up, not finding the words to even utter a syllable.

Steve laughed, running his hand over your spine. It found the base of your spine, squeezing the globe of your ass.

"I think she will be after a few more rounds."

nothing more. all I have to say on this. hope you guys enjoyed this lengthy piece of pure smut. lol xx

masterlist. <3

[eddies-ashtray]

Falling asleep on Eddie’s bed in the middle of the day and the sweet things that ensue after.

(CW: g!n reader, Eddie calls reader ‘pretty’ once). |0.8k|

♡*♡*♡

Eyes still closed, you smile lazily as you tune into the rattling and whir of the yellowed fan. Basically all it does is push around warm air, but its gentle gust brushing your bare shoulders pleases you nonetheless. Sometime in the early afternoon when you’d first dozed off atop Eddie’s covers it stood, unplugged, on his side of the bed.

You know he’s next to you before you’ve fully woken from your brief slumber. The dip in the mattress, the quiet scratching of a pencil on paper. These signs not only alert you of his presence but encourage you to blink your eyes open as you draw in a deep breath.

Your gaze settles at his hip. The curled edges of Eddie’s cut up band tee rest just below his waist, exposing a sliver of pale skin.

“Mmh,” you grumble, squinting up at him as the sunshine casts a glow across the bed. “What time is it?”

Eddie’s eyes, appearing much lighter as they soak up the glowing rays, crinkle in the corners as they meet yours, a smile playing at his lips. “Hey, sleepy.”

“Dopey,” you greet in jest.

He smiles bigger, squeezing his eyes shut as a quick breath escapes his nose.

“Very original.” Eddie’s deadpan tone does not match the delight kissing his features.

You shrug with some difficulty (only one shoulder lifts as the other is pressed into the bed), as if to say ‘What did you expect? It was right there.’

Rolling over onto your back, you stretch out like a cat, your whole body lengthening as your arms reach above your head, and release an involuntary groan of pleasure feeling as your muscles stretch.

Outside, trees rustle in the breeze and children shout and laugh as they play in the summer sun. They’re such nostalgic sounds they make your heart ache for the briefest of moments, like they’d evoked a sweet childhood memory which melted away before it could fully resurface.

Sensing his eyes on you, you peek back up at Eddie as your right hand comes to rest on your stomach, the left one falling palm-up by your side.

“You look pretty when you first wake up,” he expresses, all warmth and love.

“No way.” No one does. He just loves you.

“Yes way,” He mocks lightly as he stares down at you, his hand coming to settle over your forearm as he rubs his thumb into your skin.

You concede because you know you could both go back and forth like that forever. And because you’re too warm and feel too much like jelly to argue.

Instead, you sigh contentedly before pushing yourself up so you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with Eddie.

Lolling your head onto his shoulder, you whisper, “Time?”

So apparently taken by your slightly puffy face, he’d likely forgotten you’d even asked.

Immediately, he extends his left arm out to you so you can read the watch settled on his wrist.

2:22pm.

Tugging his arm gently to your face, you press a quick kiss to his hand, “Thanks.”

He hums as you place your head back on his shoulder, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. Despite the warmth in the room the sound gives you chills.

“Watcha drawin’?” You sing-song, though you can see his sketchbook from this angle.

“Watcha think?”

You almost jest, say, feet, before you realize, “Are those my hands?”

They must be. You know it not because of how detailed the drawing is. It’s more of a sketch so far. You know it because of the ring on the middle finger.

Eddie had found it while thrifting and gifted it to you one day. It wasn’t a birthday or anniversary or holiday. Just a normal day in March. It was a particularly frigid day, all grey skies and icy window sills. You’d arrived at the trailer after your shift about 20 minutes before Eddie. But when he did arrive, he went straight to you, and he said, I got ya somethin’ with that charming smile of his, all fidgety and excited like he was about to open presents on Christmas day. And then presented you with that beautiful ring he’s so carefully sketching onto your graphite hands.

“Mhm. You’ve got nice ones,” he says, taking hold of one of yours and softly tracing the ridges of your knuckles before thumbing the silver ring. It never comes off.

Your heart aches in the best way. You feel so content being here with him. Napping on his bed and waking up to him drawing you, caring for you, loving you. You squeeze his hand in yours before tilting upwards to press a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Keep drawing, please?”

You can’t believe you get to sit here next to him in the middle of a balmy summer’s day while he presses pencil to paper with that rickety old fan sitting on your side of the bed.

♡*♡*♡

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this please reblog <3 & let me know what you thought!

Blurb masterlist

Main masterlist

[radiosteve]

I Knew You

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have hated each other ever since sixth grade, which made living next door to him all the more miserable. It hadn't always been like that though, shared smiles and loving gestures in secret before popularity went to his head. But now, Steve somehow keeps finding ways to squeeze himself back into your life, making you question if the boy you once knew, the one you might have loved, still lived somewhere within him.

Note: Its been a bit since I last posted, but I had this idea and really wanted to write it. I'm currently drowning with work and school stuff for my masters so my next fic might take a hot minute and will definitely be shorter. This takes place in the fall after season 4 and both Eddie and Max survived with minimal injuries. It’s also partially inspired by Cardigan by Taylor Swift, hence the lyrics as chapter titles. This ended up being way longer than I intended for it to be, but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Baby), smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), enemies to lovers, language, mentions of blood/injuries, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, slowburn.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

The last salt of the summer air lazed its way through the breeze, picking up the fresh fallen leaves with it. There wasn’t enough foliage on the ground to worry about raking them just yet, but it still brought a chill down your spine at the thought of autumn’s rapid approach. You were sitting on the window bench in your room with a book in your hands and your back against the wall as the breeze floated through the open window, making the curtains dance despite being drawn back. It was a moment of quiet, something you desperately needed.

You were lost in words on the page before you, taking them in sentence after sentence, until the loud slam of a door interrupted your trance. The sound of the door was followed by singing, loud and obnoxious singing. More specifically, Steve Harrington’s loud and obnoxious singing. He had just strolled into his room, playing air guitar along to whatever metal song he was bellowing. A metal song that you presumed Eddie had played so many times on the tape player in his van that it somehow ingrained itself into Steve’s pop-hits brain. 

You sighed, shaking your head to try and brush off the noise as if this was a daily occurrence. Well, it almost was, in some form or another. You lived next door to Steve Harrington for as long as you could remember. Your bedroom windows faced each other too, allowing each of you to gain small, often unwelcome, glimpses into the other’s life. Just about every girl in school had come up to you at least once to tell you how lucky you were to have such an easy way to see Steve Harrington. Then they’d always proceed to ask if they could join you for a sleepover at your house, no doubt just to get a chance to spy on the boy in his natural habitat. 

Your eyes flitted back down to the page, stuck on the same sentence ever since your ears were met with the unwelcome disturbance that was Steve Harrington’s singing. He’d moved on from singing to vocalizing the song’s guitar solo, which was somehow even more annoying. Steve’s arms moved wildly up and down his fake guitar as he banged his head up and down. If you weren’t so annoyed you’d honestly be impressed by the amount of endurance Steve’s performance surely required. But you were annoyed. Annoyed enough to finally speak up. 

“Do you constantly have to make so much noise or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voice?” your remark rang out through the open window, trickling through the air to reach Steve’s room. You didn’t look up from your book, doing your best to look unbothered. Steve stopped singing and thrashing about. His heavy breaths evened out slightly before he responded, slowly approaching the window sill.

“Do you constantly have a stick up your ass or do you just like to pretend that you do?” your eyes widened at that, putting your book to the side as you turned to face the window, to face Steve. He had a smirk on his lips, one that you were more than familiar with by now. It was the smirk he flashed each time he said something that he knew would piss you off. Quite frankly, it was the expression you were most familiar with seeing Steve wear at this point in your life. 

“If there’s a stick up my ass then it's only because you put it there,” it was a lame comeback. You knew it. Steve knew it. But they can’t all be winners. You winced as the words fell from your lips, waiting for Steve’s retaliation, which was sure to be unsavory.

“I don’t recall ever doing that. But Baby, if you bend over I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Steve's smirk grew wider. Whether it was the stupid nickname or the sexual nature of his response that caused the flash of his pearly teeth, you didn’t know. However, you did know that you hated it, all of it. You hated that you constantly walked right into his dumb little comebacks. You hated that he seemingly had an endless supply of them just for you. You hated the day that the stupid nickname was ever aimed in your direction and you hated that Steve Harrington was the one to do it. 

It was late September 1978. Summer was still putting up a fight, albeit a weak one, to keep its warmth in the air. It had rained the night before, washing away the fresh fallen leaves to get stuck in the gutters along the roof or in the storm drains beside the narrow streets. School had only started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow, Steve found himself climbing the popularity ranks. It was a big deal for a sixth grader who’d only just begun his journey at Hawkins Middle to be so admired so fast, but Steve was already starting to see people worship the ground he walked on. He liked the idea of it, that he could waltz through the door of some place and up and run it so soon. His dad always said that the Harringtons were winners, and Steve knew he would be nothing if he disappointed his dad. 

Steve was walking to school that morning, Tommy and Carol to his left as a group full of his classmates followed closely behind. It was as if Steve had his very own entourage. They were a few blocks from the school when he saw it, a bike abandoned on the grass next to the sidewalk. There was a backpack beside it too, laying face down as if it had been thrown off in haste. It didn’t take long for Steve to realize why the bike before him looked so familiar. It was the same one he had seen you on almost every day that summer. The bike you rode to the library, to Lover’s Lake, to the movie theater, to the quarry. As long as it was a place with a good story waiting to be watched or read, or a quiet environment to immerse yourself in a good book, someone was sure to find you there with that bike. 

Steve panicked for a moment, preparing himself to run to the police station and report that you had been kidnapped. But then he looked up. You were hunched over the sidewalk a few yards up, picking at something on the surface of the cement. Steve’s legs moved, the others following, and stopped once again, this time only a few feet from where you sat on the sidewalk. Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked down, finally getting a good look at what you were doing. 

You sat there, slowly and gently peeling the dried worms from the sidewalk. Then you parted the grass next to the sidewalk, putting the worm down to get it as close to the soil as possible. Steve watched you curiously as you moved on to the next worm. It was then that the breeze picked up a bit, shifting away the hair that covered your face. Steve saw it, the tear tracks running down your cheeks as you struggled with the worms that Steve was sure were already dead. A few chuckles sounded from the group behind Steve, and suddenly he remembered that it was not just you and him on that sidewalk.

You too had suddenly become aware of your audience then, head snapping up to see the group in front of you. Your eyes landed on Steve. His expression was etched with empathy, an emotion Steve still held onto no matter how much Tommy tried to strip it from him in his sudden rise to king status. At that moment you didn’t care about the others or the tears that still leaked down your soft cheeks. You cared about the poor worms that stuck to the sidewalk. Your gaze landed on Steve, appealing to the boy who lived beside you for so many years.

“The rain,” you sniffled and Steve’s heart ached at the sound. He’d seen you cry before, as he was sure you had seen him cry too, through the cracks in the curtains obscuring bedroom windows. Each time Steve had to stop himself from marching over to your house and wrapping you in a comforting hug. It was an urge that he still had to repress, even here and now. “The rain cools down the sidewalk and the worms like to come out onto it. But it- it’s not raining anymore. It's too hot for them now. They- they’re burning alive,” fresh tears fell, replacing the old ones. They ran races against each other, fighting to be the first to drip off of your chin and onto the cement below. Steve’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by the boy beside him.

“Whatever, worm girl. Just move out of the way so we can get to school,” Tommy’s words rang through the air, the entourage laughing at you from behind him. Steve could picture it now, you’d spend the rest of middle and high school deemed as the worm girl. You’d hide in all of your classes, eat lunch by yourself in the library, and ignore the taunts that echoed throughout the hallway. Worm girl, worm girl, worm girl. You’d leave Hawkins the day after graduation, a car full of boxes, your life packed up and tucked away in each, and you’d never return. You’d start a new life in a new city that only knows you by your real name, not some playground-esque tease that stupid Tommy Hagan awarded you in 6th grade. You’d be happy there, build a place you could call home, find your one true love, and Steve would never see you again. 

Steve had to stop this now. He had to bury the name worm girl in the ground before it could ever fully emerge. And there was only one way that Steve’s prepubescent brain could think how. Your eyes flickered from Tommy before landing back on Steve, willing him to say something, to defend you. Maybe that was too much to ask.

“Damn, that was lame. Worm girl, really? Are we five?” Steve pulled his gaze from yours. He couldn’t bear to see the look of hope that blossomed in your eyes. Not with what he was about to say next. “I mean, if anything, we should call her Baby since she’s crying like one,” small giggles sounded off behind Steve before being overtaken by full-blown giggles and laughs. And there it was. Steve’s master plan had come to fruition. Replace a bad nickname with a not-as-bad nickname. It wasn’t a great plan, he knew that, especially when he saw the scrunch of your brows and the quiver of your bottom lip, but it was the best that Steve’s 11-year-old thoughts could conjure on such short notice. And Baby really wasn’t that bad. It's a term of endearment for Christ's sake. Or at least that’s what Steve would tell himself.

Tommy laughed from beside Steve, throwing an arm over Carol and guiding her to walk around you. The others followed, hurling a few taunting calls of ‘Baby’ at you as they walked by. You looked back down at the ground, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, ignoring the cracks running along the foundations of your heart. Maybe Steve wasn’t the same boy you had grown up with. Maybe his middle school fame had gone to his head more than you thought it would. More than you hoped it would.

You had just freed another dried worm from its place on the sidewalk when you saw it. A pair of Nikes in front of you. Steve Harrington’s pair of Nikes. He hadn’t gone with the others. It was like he was rooted to the spot. You placed the worm into the depths of the grass, tilting your head to look up at the boy towering over you.

“Screw you, Steve,” you spoke harshly, doing your best to let venom lace your words despite the shake in your voice. Steve didn’t say anything back. He just crouched down in front of you, gently picking up the last worm from the sidewalk. He copied what you had done, parting the grass to place the worm close to the damp earth below. Steve stood up then, walking back to the group that had now passed you, heading towards the school. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone. 

Steve rejoined them, sticking to the back of the group to not draw attention to his momentary absence. He looked back at you then, finding you with your head turned over your shoulder, already gazing at him with confusion plastered across your face. He shot you a soft smile, one that he had typically reserved just for you. It only lasted a moment, but for that moment you were more perplexed than before.

In that smile was Steve. The Steve. The one that had plaid wallpaper in his room and hand-drawn pictures of cars taped to the walls (some that you had drawn for him). He was the boy who had a slew of green army men sitting on his window sill, the same ones that he had given you. They sat pointing towards the street out front, and never ever at you. They protected both of your rooms. The soldiers protected them from monsters, wizards, ghosts, and disappointed parents. At that moment, Steve was the boy next door who left messages taped to his window for you to see. The boy who stayed a few paces behind your bike after school to make sure you got home safely. He was the boy who promised to love you always before placing a peck on your lips when you were both five. He was the boy you knew, not the one who humiliated you in front of his friends. 

But the moment ended. The smile dropped from Steve’s face as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back around, putting more and more distance between the two of you. You watched him for a moment longer until you finally managed to tear your gaze from his retreating figure. You moved then, leaning over the grass to see the worm that Steve had placed there, worried that he left it too high up. Most of the worms were dead long before you got there, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from trying to help them. All the worms in the grass were lifeless and unmoving despite your efforts. All except one. It was the worm Steve had placed there.

You jumped into action then, using your fingers to dig a hole in the dirt. As quickly as you could, you placed the worm into the hole, covering it with the fresh soil. Its tail poked out just a bit and you watched with bated breath as it slowly retracted, moving deeper into the ground below. You glanced up at the sidewalk again, expecting to still see Steve in the distance, but he was gone. Over the hill and out of your eye line, just like the worm. 

“Don’t call me that,” you bit through gritted teeth and Steve just laughed. His stupid, obnoxious, loud laugh. The one that warned you that danger was near anytime you heard it in the hallway in high school. 

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Steve pondered dramatically, bringing a finger to his lip and glancing up as if he were trying to remember something. “Maybe worm-” Steve began, a look of anger more prominent on your face now.

“Fuck you, Steve,” you cut him off before he could finish his taunt. He was about to say something else, no doubt another snarky comment that you could definitely afford to miss. It was about to spring from his lips when Steve was met with the sound of your window slamming shut. You locked it too, pulling the curtains closed and retreating to your bed, no longer in the mood to read. Steve stared at the purple curtains now blocking his view of you. Oh, how he hated that specific shade, knowing that they were the only thing keeping him from gazing at you. 

Steve closed his window too, locking it the same as you had. But he kept his curtains open, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of you later. The hand-drawn cars that once lined his walls were replaced by movie posters, ones he had gotten for free from work. He still had the army men littered along the window sill though. Most of them had been knocked over on their sides and Steve never bothered to pick them back up. They pointed at your room now, though Steve never intended for them to do so, unlike you who had purposefully aimed your soldiers at Steve’s window no more than a few days after Wormageddon.

Steve sat back on his bed, laying down and placing his arms under his head. He’d made you mad. Gotten you all riled up, just as he had planned from the second you opened your mouth. So why did he not feel better right now? Why did his stomach hurt and his heart refused to rest? This battle was over. The war waged on but this was still a victory worth noting in the imaginary books. He hadn’t gotten the final word but he still won nonetheless. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was a Harrington after all, and Harringtons were winners. Right? 

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss

The sun crept along the horizon, unwilling to give in to the moon just yet. Orange and pink illuminated your room through the open curtains. You sat at your vanity, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips before smacking them together. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had been watching you through the window. He admired the effort you took while getting ready, although he knew you didn’t need it. Steve would never admit it, he’d repressed it for far too long, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. 

You turned towards your closet, digging through it to find a pair of shoes that matched your outfit. Steve couldn’t help the clawing desire to know what you were getting ready for. There weren’t any parties that he knew of that night. Maybe you were hanging out with Nancy and Robin. He couldn’t imagine why you’d need to get dressed up for that though. Steve wished your window was open. He would lean on his window sill, asking about your plans for the evening. He’d say it in that snarky Steve Harrington way. The way he knew would elicit an eye roll in response. But maybe you’d give in and tell him. Maybe you’d invite him to go with you. Or maybe Steve was letting fantasy mix with reality.

A car horn sounded from outside, pulling Steve from his thoughts with a jump. He didn’t realize he was still standing at his window staring at you. At least he hadn’t until you rushed to your window, trying to get a glimpse of the vehicle out front. Your eyes locked with Steve’s then and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. You brushed it off, refocusing on why you had come to the window in the first place. Parked on the street in front of your house sat a van. A beat-up, rusty, falling apart at the seams, van. Steve’s gaze followed yours, also noticing the van below. A van he was more than familiar with at this point. 

You bent over, pulling on your shoes as quickly as you could before rushing out of your room and down the stairs. Steve jumped into action then, doing the same from within his own house. He burst out the front door just in time to see you grabbing for the handle of the van’s passenger side door. Steve peered through the windshield getting a glance of the unruly curls that rested on Eddie Munson’s head. You hopped into the van and Eddie looked up, seeing Steve cut through his yard and head towards the van. You fastened your seatbelt and looked up, also catching sight of the boy rapidly approaching you.

“Eddie, please drive. Like right now,” you turned to the boy next to you. Your voice came out shaky and desperate. Definitely not the commanding tone you’d hoped for.

“Sorry, princess. Gotta see what the hair is so adamantly chasing us for,” Eddie shrugged and you groaned, throwing your head back. Unfortunately that only made Eddie laugh at you.

“If you leave right now, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of the night,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together to beg.

“As tempting as that sounds, it’s a bit too late,” Eddie points to the window behind you. You turn, seeing Steve standing next to your window, hand raised in a wave. Eddie leaned over, arm reaching across your lap to crank the window down, because he knew damn well that you wouldn’t do it. Not when Steve was standing on the other side at least.

“You’re like a goddamn jumpscare. I hope you know that Harrington,” you spoke, folding your arms over your chest as Eddie retreated back to his side of the van. He could identify the hint of jealousy on Steve’s face all too well. It was the same look Steve wore anytime a guy got too close to you or made you smile a bit wider than normal. Eddie was well aware of Steve’s complicated feelings for you, even though Steve sure as hell wasn’t.

“Whatcha up to? I thought you were staying home tonight?” Steve asked Eddie, resting his hands against the van’s door. He was close to you, too close. You leaned back in your seat, putting more space between the two of you.

“Well, now I’m not,” Eddie shot Steve a cheeky smile and Steve just blinked in response. “Ok fine,” Eddie gave in, unraveling under Steve’s stare. He hated lying to Steve, especially now that they’d gotten closer. “We’re going to see some band play at The Hideout. We’ve had these plans for weeks. I lied about staying home,” Eddie rushed out and your mouth dropped in shock.

“One look into Harrington’s sparkly eyes and you're spilling your guts? Pathetic,” you groaned from your seat. Eddie rolled his eyes, focusing them back onto Steve.

“You think my eyes are sparkly?” Steve quipped, a smirk growing on his lips. You heard Eddie laugh beside you and you couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face.

“Get over yourself, Steve,” you moved your hand over the window crank, threatening to roll up the window, but Steve stopped you.

“Wait! I wanna come with,” he spoke quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Eddie. You couldn’t help the laugh that formed in your throat. “What’s so funny?” Steve glared at you then.

“Well, for one, you hate metal music,” you began and Steve scoffed.

“So do you,” Steve tried to retaliate, but the smirk on your lips told him he was fighting a losing battle.

“Sure, I’m not the biggest metal fan, but I like it enough and I love the energy of the crowd. Plus Eddie and I have been doing this for years. It doesn’t even matter, you’re not coming with us so you might as well give up now,” you spoke, lifting your hand in a sarcastic wave goodbye.

“Good thing it’s not up to you then. It’s Eddie’s van. He gets to decide,” your head snapped in Eddie’s direction then. You glared at him and focused as hard as you could. When you were younger, you and Eddie were convinced that you’d be able to communicate with each other telepathically if you tried hard enough. It never worked of course, but it never hurt to try. Eddie understood you better than anyone. He became your number-one confidant since the day you met. Surely he could pick up on your brain waves begging him to bar Steve from your plans.

Eddie headed towards the band room at Hawkins Middle with his guitar case swinging in his hand. He was early, intending to warm up on his own before the rest of Corroded Coffin got there for band practice. Eddie flicked on the lights, expecting the room to be empty. But it wasn’t. You were there, in the corner of the room, tucked between some music stands. You’d been curled into a ball and looked up when the fluorescent lights came on, illuminating your hidden figure. There were tears streaked across your face after a particularly brutal day of taunts from Tommy and Steve. Eddie set his guitar down and moved towards you slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, hesitantly approaching. You remained silent, rising from your spot on the ground and wiping away your tears with your sweater sleeve. “I’m Eddie,” he spoke again, extending his hand for you to shake when he got close enough. You told him your name but didn’t meet his hand with yours, not yet.

“But everyone calls me Baby,” your voice was hoarse from crying but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He was an eighth grader but even he’d heard about the poor sixth grader that the popular kids had been calling Baby. It had moved beyond just them though. All of your classmates, teachers, and neighbors had adopted the name for you. 

“Well, I won’t call you that, not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Eddie reassured you. He had been victimized plenty by the popular kids. He understood what it felt like, which is why he was shocked when you shook your head. His hand fell back to his side.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve been telling people to call me Baby to help reclaim it, I guess. It took Marissa the librarian forever but she’s finally gotten used to it. My parents still slip up, but that’s to be expected,” you shrugged. What you didn’t tell Eddie was that it still hurt when the name spilled from Steve’s lips. You weren’t sure why it did. But the more you were called Baby by everyone else, the more desensitized you hoped to become to it.

“Reclaim the name?” Eddie asked, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded, suddenly unsure what the boy in front of you thought. “That’s pretty metal,” a smile stretched his lips and his hand shot back up between you, beckoning for yours to join it. “It’s nice to meet you, Baby.”

“You too, Eddie,” you mirrored his smile, finally placing your small hand in his. Eddie’s calloused fingers enclosed around the back of your palm and two became one. You were inseparable. Inseparable in everything except for the reoccurring nightmare scenario that kept popping up in your life. You’d been dragged in early on, being one of the last people to see Barb before she went missing. You’d caught a glimpse of her through your window, sitting on the diving board above Steve’s pool, when suddenly she was gone. You joined Jonathan and Nancy in their quest to find her and kill the thing that took her. It sucked to keep Eddie out of that part of your life, but it was for his own good. Or at least it was until this past spring when Chrissy Cunningham became Vecna’s first victim right before the poor boy’s eyes. Then you told him everything. Your two worlds fully merged, and you and Eddie became totally and fully inseparable.

Your glare bore into Eddie’s and you thought you had gotten through to him. You were wrong.

“Alright Harrington, hop in. Quickly though, I don’t want to miss the opening act,” Eddie conceded, turning to face his gaze towards the road ahead. He could feel you burning holes into him with your eyes. You rolled the window up as Steve opened the van's back door. 

“We’re so working on the telepathy thing again. Evidently, you’re in desperate need of a refresher,” you grumbled and Eddie chuckled at how mad you were at the addition of Steve to your plans. Steve closed the van door, lounging in one of the bean bags Eddie kept in the back. After what felt like the longest ride of being tossed around the back of Eddie’s van, Steve was never more thankful to see The Hideout come into view. The three of you filed out of the van as the sound of metal music filtered through the bar’s closed doors. Much to Eddie’s dismay the opener had already started their set. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette smoke, causing Steve to wrinkle his nose.

“Go get us some drinks from the bar. Baby and I will get us a spot up near the front,” Eddie handed Steve a few dollar bills, enough to cover both your drink and his own. You and Steve might hate each other, but you’d been around each other in enough alcohol-fueled group settings to know each other’s drink orders. Steve beelined towards the bar, yelling over the music to order your Dirty Shirley with extra cherries, Eddie’s Rum and Coke, and his own Long Island iced tea.

He spotted you and Eddie pushing through the crowd. You were in front of Eddie, his forearm thrown across the front of your shoulders to keep you close. The two of you stopped not far from the stage. You leaned up to say something in Eddie’s ear, your back flush with his chest, and Steve felt a rush of jealousy run through him. Eddie had told him countless times that the two of you were just friends. That the kisses he’d once shared with you while high were just meaningless, drug-fueled, pecks on the lips. That was a lie of course, but Eddie definitely wasn’t going to tell Steve about the way you moaned against his lips until the two of you sobered up enough to feel embarrassed and swore to never speak of it again. Sometimes Steve needed to be lied to about certain things, mainly so Eddie wasn’t on the receiving end of Steve’s right hook.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of Steve in exchange for the wad of cash slapped on the counter. Steve grabbed all three glasses and began his trek through the tightly packed crowd. He’d gotten really good at holding a bunch of stuff in his hands at once during his brief stint at Scoops. Steve made it up to you and Eddie, passing the drinks to each of you. The three of you watched the opening band’s set, dancing as much as you could with drinks in your hands and a packed crowd.

By the time the opener’s set was over you had sipped enough of your drink to expose one of the cherries in your glass. Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped as he watched you fish the cherry out with your finger, popping the morsel in your mouth and pulling it from the stem with your teeth. Eddie eyed the boy next to him, amused not only by Steve’s aroused reaction to such a simple thing but also by your complete obliviousness to said reaction. Despite the lack of music coming from the stage as you waited for the headlining band to come on, Eddie still had to shout over the buzz of the crowd.

“Show Stevie the thing,” Eddie gestured towards the cherry stem between your fingers. You shook your head in protest, but Eddie gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you were instantly beat. You rolled your eyes, placed the cherry stem on your tongue, and closed your lips. Eddie brought his arm up, glancing back and forth between you and his watch. Steve was baffled by the coordinated performance that the two of you were putting on in front of him. After a few seconds, your mouth popped back open. You plucked the cherry stem from between your teeth and held it up for Steve to see.

“Seven seconds! That might be your personal best,” Eddie exclaimed while Steve looked closely at the stem. It was tied in a knot. He took it from between your fingers and was about to ask how you did it when the band came on stage. Steve’s hand trailed down to his side, tucking the tied cherry stem into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but throwing it away felt wrong for some reason.

The band was really good, especially the lead singer. He was only a few years older than you and he had gorgeous, blonde hair that flowed down to his shoulders. Steve had scoffed when the singer winked at you during their set, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the music. The three of you had a surprisingly good time together, although it's pretty hard to fight with such loud music blaring throughout the room. Eddie and Steve were tasked with finding a table after the band left the stage and you got stuck with grabbing everyone new drinks. 

“That was actually really fun. How often do you guys do this?” Steve asked, his pants getting stuck to cheap faux leather as he slid into a booth opposite Eddie. 

“Once every month or so. It depends on which bands are playing,” Steve was listening to Eddie or at least he was at first. His eyes had been scanning the bar, trying to find you. When he finally did, his expression hardened. You leaned with your elbow against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back with the drinks, but you weren’t alone. The lead singer of the headlining band was beside you. He was smiling at you, and even worse for Steve, you were smiling back. Eddie noticed the change in Steve’s demeanor, the jealousy that now filled the hazel of his eyes. He tracked Steve’s gaze across the crowded bar, landing on you. 

Eddie was impressed. He’d seen you bag your fair share of hot guys after a show at The Hideout, but never had you managed to get with the lead singer of the headlining band. Steve, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was livid. It didn’t help that the lead singer had just placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. Steve quickly slid out of the booth, stomping his way through the crowd of people, heading towards you. Eddie winced, knowing he should chase after the boy, but slightly curious to see what would happen if he didn’t. Steve pushed through the bodies surrounding him, stopping just in front of where you stood against the bar.

“What's taking you so long with the drinks?” He called out and your head shot up at the sound of his voice. The smile that had grown on your lips quickly faded at the sight of Steve. The singer, Corey, looked up from where he had just started to kiss your neck. He didn’t move his hands from your hips despite Steve’s pointed glances. 

“Hey man, you’re kind of interrupting something right now. If you want a drink then ask the bartender or whatever,” Corey moved to face you again, but Steve wasn’t done.

“Hey man,” Steve mocked Corey’s words. “You need to take your hands off of her right now,” your brow furrowed in anger while Corey filled with confusion.

“Sorry dude, didn’t realize she was your girl,” Corey assumed based on Steve’s comment and began to move his hands, but you stopped him.

“I’m not, I swear. I barely even know that guy,” Steve scoffed at that and you shot him a glare. Corey’s eyes flitted back and forth between you and Steve. He looked more confused than ever, almost painfully so. 

“I’m way too high for this. You have her, man. It's not worth the fight,” Corey held up his hands in defense. Eddie had just worked his way through the sea of people in time to see Corey back away from you, scan the crowd, and head towards some pretty redhead across the room. Steve looked triumphant as he turned his gaze back to you. Eddie thought you looked like you were about to go ballistic. He’d never seen you that mad before in his entire life. You looked even angrier now than you had when Eddie purposefully put gum in your hair and it got stuck so badly that you had to give yourself bangs to get rid of it. Eddie was about two seconds from sprinting out of the building to save himself from being a witness to what was sure to be Steve’s murder when the bartender, Dave, called out from behind you.

“Here’s that Long Island for you, Baby,” you spun around, revealing the Rum and Coke and Dirty Shirley that sat on the counter behind you. You thanked Dave, giving him a good tip, before turning back to Steve. Because even in your fury, you could still be nice to the waitstaff. You picked up the Long Island, marched towards Steve, and slammed the drink directly into his chest. 

“Since you wanted it so fucking bad,” you pushed past him, not caring about the way the liquid sloshed over the lip of the glass, coating your hand and Steve’s shirt. You moved towards the exit, slamming the door open into the moonlit darkness outside. Steve took a second to process what just happened. He placed the remainder of his drink back on the counter before following in your path. Eddie groaned, grabbing his now abandoned drink from the bar and downing it. He grabbed your drink from beside his, knowing you’d need it when this was over, and followed Steve. You had made it to Eddie’s van and tugged on the door handle, cursing the long-haired boy for actually locking it for once.

“What the hell was that?” Steve called out from across the parking lot with his arms held wide. He was stalking towards you at a furious pace. You were so pissed that you didn’t even notice your feet dragging you forward to meet him in the middle.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” you asked in response instead of answering his question. Steve stopped when the tips of his shoes touched yours, scrunched faces mere inches from each other. “First you invite yourself along to Eddie and I’s thing and then you ruin my chances with the very hot lead singer of the band. You did that for what, huh? Shits and giggles? I don’t give a shit who you are Harrington, that’s too fucking far,” you yelled, rage boiling beneath your hot skin. 

“He wasn’t that hot,” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes widened. Eddie, who had just made it out to the parking lot, was surprised there wasn’t steam shooting out of your ears at this point.

“Is that the only thing you fucking heard from what I just said?” you brought your hands to your forehead in exasperation. “You’re such an asshole! I thought it would end when we graduated. Like you’d grow up a bit after graduation day. Hell, Robin said you’d matured, changed, and left the King Steve shtick behind. Eddie is one of your best friends now, the boy you taunted for years. So what is it about me, huh? Why are you suddenly too golden-hearted to bully everyone else but you never stopped fucking with me?” you had gotten close to Steve, not that you noticed through your tunneled vision of anger. Your heavy breaths fanned across Steve’s lips as you awaited his response.

“I-” Steve opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. He didn’t know. Well maybe he did know, somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t something he could say to you now. Not in The Hideout’s parking lot where a crowd had started growing around you. Steve stepped back, creating the space between you that you desperately lacked at the moment.

“That’s what I thought,” you stepped back too, turning to walk towards Eddie. You quickly stopped, facing Steve once more. “Do me a favor, find some other girl to lurk around for a while. It's bad enough that you live next door. I really don’t need you following me wherever I go like some fucking creep,” you spun on your heels again, grabbing the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand and throwing it back like it was fruit juice. 

Eddie unlocked the van and you slid inside, slamming the door behind you. Eddie’s eyes met Steve’s with a grimace. Eddie looked at you in the van and then back to Steve. Steve got the message; Eddie couldn’t take you both home together. Maybe Steve was the one with telepathy instead. Eddie’s remorseful eyes searched Steve from across the lot. Steve conceded, gesturing for Eddie to take you. He was the one that fucked up anyway. If anything he deserved to be the one that had to call a cab. Eddie shot Steve a tight-lipped smile before hopping into his van and driving off. Steve watched the van’s taillights as Eddie rolled through a stop sign, speeding off into the night.

The light in your room was off when the cab finally dropped Steve off at home. He wasn’t surprised, expecting that you’d be at Eddie's trailer, erasing the night from your thoughts with a shared joint. Steve trudged up the stairs, opening and closing his door softly behind him so he didn’t wake his parents. They’d be gone for another business trip in the morning, leaving one less thing for him to worry about tomorrow. Steve’s window was still open from earlier, allowing the cool night air to seep in. He laid back on his bed, thoughts racing in the silence. And that’s when he heard it. A soft sob, then a sniffle. A deep breath, then another sob.

Steve sat up, his gaze aimed in the direction of the sound. His eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor of your darkened room with your back against your bed. Your window was cracked open, the way you normally kept it at night, allowing the birds to wake you with their songs in the morning. Steve stood, moving towards the window. You couldn’t see him from this angle, not that you would have been able to regardless with the tears clouding your vision. Steve frowned. An ache in his chest, the same one he’d felt whenever he heard you cry, flourished within him. He wanted to comfort you. To wrap an arm around you and let cry into his chest. To tell you it would be okay and ask who’s ass he needed to kick. But he couldn’t. You weren’t friends. You hated him. And it’s not like he could kick his own ass. 

He didn’t realize, didn’t even feel it, but a tear slipped down his cheek, matching the flood that crowded yours. Steve lifted his hands to rest on the window, leaning against it as his brows furrowed over the broken look on your face. He pushed down, shutting the window softly, locking it, and closing the curtains. He couldn’t listen to you cry anymore. He remembered what you said, and he didn’t want to linger. The tear rolled off Steve’s chin, drowning a little unsuspecting green soldier on the window sill below. Steve moved away from the window and laid back on his bed. He felt around his pants pocket and fished out the knotted cherry stem. Steve’s eyes roamed over it for too long before he set it aside on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard tried. In the quiet dark of his room, Steve swore he could still hear your muffled cries.    

Drunk under a street light

Black and white flickered from the TV screen, illuminating the dark room that you lounged in. You were lazing on the couch, mindlessly picking at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. The movie playing across the room did nothing to pull your unfocused stare from the coffee table in front of you. It wasn’t until you received a light kick to the thigh that you could finally shifted your eyes away.

“Okay, ouch,” you glared at Robin who was lying across the couch beside you, feet practically draped across your lap. She sat up, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Her perfume scent lingered in the air around you even after she pulled back. It was sweet and light like she had just finished baking a batch of sugar cookies.

“You’ve been begging me to watch Casablanca with you for months and you’re not even paying attention to it now that I actually am,” she lifted her hand towards the screen before bringing her handful of popcorn to her lips. It's true. You had been dying to get someone to watch Casablanca with you for ages. Eddie watched it once and then refused to do it again after he ended up crying at the ending. Rick Blaine’s selfless act of giving up his one true love to give her a better life brought tears to the cold-hearted boy’s eyes. He made you promise not to tell anyone, especially Dustin. 

“Sorry Rob, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you apologized, trying your best to pay attention to the movie again. You’d been zoned out for the entire first half of the movie, not that it mattered. You knew exactly what was happening on screen, given that you’d seen the movie a million times. It got to a point where Steve started keeping a copy under the counter at Family Video so there was always one available when you came in.

“Are you thinking about Steve?” Robin asked, her voice overpowering Ingrid Bergman’s as Ilsa confessed why she left Rick alone in Paris. Your head snapped towards the girl beside you and you could see the faint smirk growing on her lips.

“Why would I be thinking about Steve?” you answered her question with your own. The smirk fell from her lips then and she rolled her eyes. Robin sat up, pressing pause on the remote.

“Because he was totally jealous and caused some huge blowout fight between the two of you. And when I say huge I mean huge. It’s been over a week and you still won’t even acknowledge that he exists,” Robin explained, turning to face you better. You sighed and faced her too. You tried to avoid talking about Steve with Robin. Ever since they became friends it seemed too weird to talk shit about him in front of her.

“First of all, Steve definitely wasn’t jealous. He’s just a menace that loves to torment me,” Robin snorted a laugh but didn’t interrupt, allowing you to continue. “Second, Steve and I aren’t friends so me not talking to him for a week really isn’t that big of a deal,” Robin shrugged at that, seeing your point. “And third, how the hell do you know about all of this?” a guilty look spread across Robin’s face and you quickly realized the answer to your question. “Eddie’s got a big mouth,” Robin nodded in agreement at your words. 

“I would’ve figured it out regardless. Steve’s been moping around for days. He’s really beating himself up over the whole thing,” you chuckled and Robin shot you a confused glare.

“What? I find it hard to believe that Steve Harrington even remotely cares about anything that has to do with me. Well unless it has to do with making my life a living hell,” you leaned back again, digging your hand into the popcorn bowl once more. Robin just stared at you, obviously baffled by something. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somewhere in Steve’s caveman brain all this ‘torment’ is actually his way of expressing that he likes you?” Robin asked and repositioned the blanket that covered her lap. You stopped mid-chew, considering Robin’s words. You swallowed hard, sitting up and placing the popcorn bowl down on the couch between you.

“So what, Steve pulls my pigtails on the playground and it’s all okay just because he likes me? That’s such a toxic ideology, Rob. Not only that, but the suggestion that Steve actually likes me is insane. I mean have you heard the worm story?” you felt defensive, as if you were being attacked even though you weren't. You couldn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop racing at the thought of Steve liking you.

“Of course, I’ve heard the goddamn worm story,” Robin threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn in the process. “And I didn’t say that it was a healthy way of expressing his feelings. It just might be the only way he knows how. It’s not like his parents are great role models in teaching him about love and stuff,” a quiet fell over the room while your head raced at Robin’s words. You’d been so wrapped up in your feud with Steve that you hadn’t taken the time to consider his life outside of you. 

You knew Steve’s parents were pretty absent based on the lack of cars in the driveway. And it was well known across town that Mr. Harrington was an asshole, no need to grow up next door to figure that out. Steve adored his dad when he was younger, and talked about how he wanted to be just like him. But you had heard the fights that seeped through the open windows in the years that followed. The disappointment that filled Mr. Harrington’s face when he entered Steve’s bedroom and saw the movie posters lining the walls. You wondered then what Steve’s parents thought of his decision to forgo college. Whether they argued with his choice, fought with him to take a chance to change his future, or if they just accepted it, not expecting much else from their disappointing son.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Robin studied your face as you spoke. You looked lost, like you were questioning your past with Steve. After a moment the hint of a smile graced your lips and Robin furrowed her brow. “Still doesn’t mean he likes me,” you quirked as Robin sat up, grabbing another handful of popcorn. 

“Oh whatever,” she launched her fistful of popcorn at you, hitting your face with the popped kernels before they fell to your lap. You retaliated, throwing popcorn back at her. The popcorn fight quickly ended when Robin picked up the bowl, dumping the rest of its contents over your head. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter while you tried, and failed, to pick the popcorn kernels from your hair. Eventually, you gave up, resting your head on Robin’s shoulder, the crunch of the popcorn sounding off as you did. Her shoulder was bony, uncomfortably stabbing your cheek with each delicate press against it, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you was very touchy-feely with each other, though you were never sure why, so it was nice to have a rare moment of intimacy. It granted you a deeper understanding of one another and a peak into the mysterious ways that each of your brains worked.

“Go to a party with me tonight?” Robin asked softly, not quite ready to leave the comfortable quiet just yet. You kept your head still on her shoulder and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

“Since when do you actively attend parties?” you questioned and Robin’s shoulder shook beneath you as she let out a gentle laugh. It was a comforting sound, like waves at the beach or rain on the pavement. That’s what Robin was to you. A comfort. Sure, Eddie was your best friend and you’d known him longer, but Robin understood you in a way that he didn’t. She controlled your chaos and balanced it with ease and truth. Robin matched your energy, knew what was best for you, and made you feel heard.

“Since Vickie asked me to go,” Robin winced out the words, anticipating your shift away from her side. Just as Robin thought, you lifted your head, turning to face her.

“So you’re not inviting me to go to a party, you’re inviting me to Third Wheel all night?” you raised your brow, eyes pouring into the girl beside you. Robin winced, shrinking into her spot on the couch. “Alright, I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyway,” Robin cheered triumphantly at your concession, standing to go to your room and start getting ready together. You stopped her, gesturing to the popcorn that littered the couch and floor. She groaned, reluctantly helping you clean up the mess she made.

You’d walked to the party, arriving after everything was already in full swing. The sticky air reeked of weed and cheap booze as you pushed your way through the front door. It was sweltering inside the house. Sweaty bodies pressed themselves closely together on the dance floor, sipping on whatever deadly concoction resided in the punch bowl. Robin made a beeline for Vickie as soon as she walked through the door. There were familiar faces, people you knew from high school and whatnot, but no one you particularly fancied talking to. That is until you saw a mop of brown curls approaching with a black lunch box in his hands.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you called out over the boombox that was blaring music throughout the room. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk along with him. He guided you to the kitchen, stopping in front of a countertop littered with booze. You weighed your drink options, eventually pouring some vodka and Sprite into a solo cup, disappointed at the lack of cherry grenadine. You held up a bottle of rum pointed in Eddie’s direction, but he shook his head.

“Strictly business tonight sweetheart,” Eddie patted the lunchbox in his hands. You nodded in understanding, bringing your cup to your lips. “Where’s Buckley?” he asked, suddenly noticing the missing girl that he was sure dragged you here. You didn’t even have to speak, just pointing your finger to where Robin danced with Vickie across the room. Her hair was already a mess and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. You were about to say something else, keep your conversation with Eddie going, when he received a tap on his shoulder. It was some jock looking to make a deal. Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze in place of goodbye and led the guy to the back of the house.

So there you were, standing alone in a crowded kitchen, regretting your decision to come in the first place. If only Nancy or Jonathan were there to keep you company, too bad they were both off at their respective colleges. Hell, you might even take Steve’s companionship at this point, because the longer you leaned against this countertop, the more boxed in you felt. What you didn’t know was that Steve was there. He thought it would be a good way to get his mind off your fight, but as he stood in the corner of this too-hot house, sipping a lukewarm beer, and listening to his old basketball teammate drone on and on about how they should’ve won the championship game their senior year, Steve realized he was wrong.

It especially didn’t help when his eyes scanned the room and somehow landed on you. You were alone, searching the room, presumably for a familiar face, when he spotted you. Luckily for Steve, you remained oblivious to his watchful gaze, giving him some time to study you since he felt like he hadn’t been able to in ages. He considered going over to you, to keep you company, but before he could even take a step, someone else approached you first. Your face dropped to a scowl at the sight of the freckled boy who now stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong Baby? Not happy to see me?” Tommy asked, a devilish grin hiding his lips. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He wanted to march over to you, drag you away from the douchebag before you, but he couldn’t will his legs to trudge across the congested room. He was never good at standing up for you, especially not to Tommy. 

“Is anyone ever happy to see you?” you asked, crossing your arms and keeping a close grip on your cup. Tommy looked you up and down, hungry eyes boring into your skin. Suddenly you wished you brought a sweater to cover your bare shoulders. Steve still watched you from afar, his stomach turning at the desire that lingered in Tommy’s expression.

“There are plenty of girls around here that love when I show up,” Tommy grinned, leaning in closer. He reminded you of a shark with his teeth bared, waiting for a lowly seal to stumble into his pathway. “I could show you why if you come upstairs with me,” his lips came dangerously close to your ear, muffling the music that rattled the room. 

“I’ll pass,” you grimaced at his offer. Tommy’s grin faltered and you brought your cup to your lips with a shrug, trying not to look too smug at your denial of his advances. That must have been what set Tommy over the edge. He reached up, slapping the cup from your hand, ignoring the liquid that splashed over you both. His face leaned in close as his arms caged you against the counter. 

“Fuck you,” he spat, his face close to yours. “You’re just some weirdo bitch anyway,” you were scared at that point, terrified even, but you remained calm. Showing your fear would be the worst thing to do. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he watched Tommy corner you. He took a step forward, moving in your direction.

“A weirdo bitch that won’t fuck you,” you fired back at Tommy and his face turned red with fury. Maybe poking the bear wasn’t a good idea. Suddenly someone knocked Tommy to the side, freeing you from him. You looked up, seeing a flash of red hair and someone in a striped shirt. Vickie and Robin. 

“Woah man, we were spinning around and kinda lost control. Didn’t even see you there,” Robin leaned down to where Tommy now sat on the floor. She shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking. Vickie offered him a hand, but he brushed her off, standing on his own. He looked around, catching the glances of some of the partygoers, and stomped off, too embarrassed to continue trying to pursue you. Steve had made it about halfway through the crowded living room when Robin and Vickie took down Tommy in some sort of weird spin attack. He stood there now, watching as they checked over you. “You alright?” Robin asked you while Vickie inspected you for any bruises or blemishes from Tommy.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Think I’m just gonna go actually,” you looked down at your shirt, taking inventory of how damp it was from your spilled drink. 

“We’ll go with you,” Vickie spoke up, taking hold of your arm as if she would guide you out. You shook your head, sliding her hand down to yours and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

“No, you guys stay and have fun. I’m gonna try and hitch a ride. I’ve gotta know someone around here that’s planning on leaving soon,” you had no intentions of actually getting a ride from someone. But you knew Robin would never let you go if she knew you were going to walk home alone and you just needed to get out of there. You would ask Eddie, but you knew he needed the money he’d make from selling tonight so you didn’t want to bother him. 

“Okay,” Robin nodded, granting you permission to leave. You gave her and Vickie a two-finger salute and made your way to the door. “No rides home from anyone on the basketball team. Past, present, or future. I swear all of those guys are creeps,” Robin called after you, turning a few heads as she did. You chuckled, continuing on to the door.

Steve still stood in the living room, watching the three of you closely. His eyes followed you as you trekked through the crowd to the door. Once you finally made it outside, his gaze shifted back to Robin only to find that she was already looking at him. She motioned with her head to the door, encouraging him to follow after you. So he did. Steve threw away his half-drunk beer and burst through the door. You were already halfway down the block when he got in his car and pulled up next to you. 

It was cold outside, especially for early September, a chill lacing the breeze with each gust. It definitely didn’t help that your shirt was still soaked through. You saw the headlights of a car approaching behind you, brushing it off as you shivered and pulled your arms close. It took you a moment to realize that the car hadn’t passed you yet. You turned your head, suddenly facing a maroon BMW with its windows rolled down. A groan escaped your lips, but you still bent down to peer through the window. Steve’s car came to a stop, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of your exasperated face.

“You stalking me now, Harrington?” Steve let out a chuckle and a gust of wind picked up, making you shiver again. 

“You wish. Come on, get in and I’ll drive us home,” he studied your face, searching for a sign that you’d agree. He couldn’t find one, your body unmoving from your spot on the sidewalk. 

“I’m perfectly capable of walking. Plus Robin said no rides from anyone on the basketball team,” you shot him a sly smirk and stood up straight, continuing your walk through the neighborhood. You’d expected Steve to drive off then, leaving you to walk in peace. But he didn’t, his car followed alongside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, stopping again to see Steve through the passenger window.

“If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’ll just drive next to you,” Steve shrugged, looking up at you.

“What if I cut through someone’s backyard?” you asked and Steve shrugged again, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Then some people are gonna be really pissed to see tire tracks on their lawn,” he replied and you almost wanted to laugh at his persistence, entertained by Steve’s unwillingness to let you be alone. His smile faltered then. “You and I both know the kind of shit that lurks around Hawkins at night,” any amusement from before had slipped away. None of you mentioned the Upside Down much now, not after finally defeating Vecna. It was final, the battle that ended the war, destroying the Upside Down for good. You couldn’t help the lingering fear that you’d missed something, that one day it would all return. And here, on the sidewalk after some lame party, you realized that Steve shared that fear too. 

“Ok,” you said simply, shocking Steve as you pulled on the passenger door handle and slid into the seat next to him. He waited until you buckled up before rolling up the windows and driving off. It was quiet in the car, the lingering tension of all the unspoken words swirling in the air. Steve heard the sound of your teeth chattering and your hands brushing the goosebumps on your arms. He quickly reached into the back, grabbed an old sweatshirt that sat there, and handed it to you. Normally you would’ve rejected it, your pride too inflated to accept help from Steve in any form. But it was cold, your shirt was wet, and your conversation from earlier with Robin still lingered in the forefront of your mind. 

Steve didn’t expect you to take his sweatshirt so easily, replacing his hand on the wheel when he felt the weight of it lift from his palm. You pulled his sweatshirt on, reveling in the warmth it provided. It smelled like hairspray and lavender, a hint of boy mixed with the two. It smelled like Steve. Silence settled over the two of you again and Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” the words burst from within him, head turning to look at you for a moment. You looked calm and objective like Steve hadn’t even spoken in the first place. “The whole thing at The Hideout was so stupid. I don’t even know why I did that,” you looked at him then, expression still neutral. “I guess I just feel like I need to protect you and I took it too far,” your brow scrunched at that, finally giving Steve an insight into your thoughts.

“Protect me? You and Tommy tormented me for years,” anger rose in your throat. You hadn’t meant to get mad, still considering what Robin said, but Steve’s twisted claim brought it out of you in the way that only he could.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that too. I just- I just wanted to fit in, to be cool. But I realize now that none of that shit ever mattered. I mean, how important was popularity when the one person that I actually cared about couldn’t stand me?” Steve spoke and the tension in your face dropped. The one person Steve cared about? Was he talking about you? You took a deep breath, thinking over your words when the car came to a stop in front of your driveway.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, almost a whisper, like the breeze rattling through the trees. “I can’t just forget about all of it because you’ve abruptly changed. I can’t just decide to be your friend all of a sudden. You hurt me, for a long time. Hell, you still do,” Steve winced, wanting to turn back time to when you were five, when nothing bad had happened to you yet and things were much simpler. 

“I know,” Steve’s head sunk, his chest aching with each passing second.

“I just,” you stopped, jumbled thoughts bouncing around your head. “I just think it’s easier when we keep ourselves apart. It doesn’t hurt as much that way,” the streetlights above reflected the swelling tears in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You hadn’t meant to cry, and you surely didn’t want to. Steve understood your sentiments. Being around you only reminded him of how it could’ve been if he hadn’t tried so hard to fit in. If he hadn’t screwed it all up.

“But maybe we could try. Try to be friends,” the words surprised Steve as they left his lips. They came out far bolder than he felt capable of being at the moment. “Group settings, public places. Baby steps, you know?” Steve tried to stop the hope building in his chest, too worried about the damage it would do if you said no. But you didn’t. 

“Maybe,” you said in a whisper, a tear finally tracking down your cheek. A soft smile slipped over Steve’s lips, the same one he wore around you as a kid. The same smile you saw before he traipsed over the hill, leaving you on the sidewalk with the worms. Your lips twitched upwards for a second before you pulled the door handle and exited the car. 

The feeling of hope now took full form, blossoming in Steve’s chest, filling every crack and crevice between his ribs. He watched you walk up to your front door, still wearing his sweatshirt, slipping inside your house with a small wave in Steve’s direction. Steve put the car back in gear, pulling into his driveway next door. He shut the car off and leaned back in his seat, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. Maybe. He could work with maybe.

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding

Eddie’s van was a mess. Your legs brushed against fast food wrappers while cigarette butts covered the floor, crunching under your sneakers. It smelled like weed and sweat with a hint of the black ice air freshener that you forced him to buy a while ago. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as Eddie made a right turn out of your neighborhood.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, shifting to look at Eddie. He had his hair pulled up into a messy bun that you insisted on doing for him. It was a rare and rather unwelcome hairstyle for the metalhead, but it was well warranted for the occasion. 

“Because Buckley wants to learn how to play basketball and Harrington asked for my help,” Eddie shrugged, approaching a stop sign and making a left. You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air from your chest.

“But you hate basketball,” you groaned, wondering why Robin would even want to learn how to play in the first place. 

“Yes, but they’re my friends and they asked for my help, so my help they shall receive,” normally you would have laughed at Eddie’s goofiness, but the thought of being around Steve loomed over your head. You still hadn’t seen each other since the party, just glimpses through bedroom windows. It was hard to say where either of you stood with each other. Becoming friends seemed like an impossible feat on your part, too stuck in the past to care about the potential future.

“Okay, so why am I included in this? Steve didn’t ask for my help,” you pulled your feet from the trash-covered floor, finally sick enough of how the garbage touched your ankles. Your feet rested on the seat and you hugged your knees close to your chest. Your head sat atop them, watching Eddie closely with narrow eyes, trying to figure out if this was some scheme to get you near Steve.

“Each team needs two players, Baby. Kind of hard to play a two v. two with only three people,” you let out another groan and Eddie smirked in response, knowing you couldn’t refute him anymore. He made a sharp right turn, pulling up to the outdoor basketball courts that sat behind the high school. Eddie turned off the engine and tapped your knee. It was his way of telling you to get out of the car and lock your door behind you. The two of you began your walk over and could just barely make out three figures through the holes in the chain link fence that surrounded the basketball courts.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear athletic shorts before. I might pass out at the sight of your legs,” you said to Eddie as the two of you walked through the gate, entering the basketball court. You barely had time to accentuate your comment with a smirk before Eddie leaned in close.

“Reel it in, Baby. Best not to flirt with me in front of Harrington. Wouldn’t want to risk him getting jealous again,” your face grew hot at Eddie’s comment, the thought of a jealous Steve stirring something deep in the pit of your stomach, something like desire. Eddie donned a stupid smile as you approached Robin, Steve, and Lucas in the middle of the court.

“What’s up with you?” Steve asked, noticing your flustered appearance. Your eyes darted back over to Eddie, who continued to wear the same shit-eating grin as before.

“Nothing, just ready to play some basketball,” you deflected and Steve nodded, covering the basic rules of the game. Lucas was acting as the referee for the match, making it feel much more intense than it should have. That’s probably why you took it so seriously, covering Robin as if your life depended on it. Steve won the tip-off, sending the ball back to Robin. She caught it and began to dribble towards the basket. She looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time as she made her way up the court, nearly smacking the ball away from herself in the process. You used it to your advantage, managing to grab the ball from her, dribbling up the opposite side of the court, and scoring a basket from the three-point line. Steve retaliated after that, shooting his own shot and tying the score. It continued like that for a bit, Eddie and Robin eventually gave up on trying to cover the both of you, which was how you ended up in front of Steve, desperately attempting to block his shot.

“Worried you’re gonna miss?” you taunted as Steve dribbled in front of you, your back to the basket. A cocky smirk overtook his lips then, bringing the ball up to shoot. It would’ve gone in too, if you hadn’t smacked it out of the air, stealing it for yourself. You sprinted down the court towards the other basket with Steve hot on your trail. He managed to get in front of you and you turned your back towards him, protecting the ball in the meantime before you could get a clear shot. “Come on, Harrington. I thought you were the team captain back in high school. Figured you’d be better than this,” you knew it was dangerous, teasing him in such a flirty way, but it was all in good fun, right?

“Oh, I’ll show you, Baby,” Steve practically whispered into your ear, his chest pressing against your back. If you weren’t so focused on beating Steve you would’ve felt the goosebumps that littered your spine. Steve’s arms came up to circle you, so you moved, pivoting to take your shot and knocking Steve out of the way in the process. He lost his balance as the ball left your fingertips. You felt Steve’s hands find your torso as you watched the ball tip into the basket, dragging you down with him as he fell. Your shirt had ridden up when you made your shot, causing Steve’s fingers to brush against your bare skin. It felt like you were falling in slow motion until you finally landed hard on top of Steve, your back flush to his chest. 

Pain shot up your sides as Steve’s fingernails scraped against the semi-healed scars that resided there. You got up quickly, not taking the time to register your pain, lifting your shirt again to see that the wounds had broken open on both sides. It took Steve a second to get up after hitting the ground so hard. The others rushed toward the two of you, but your eyes landed on Steve, his gaze already honed in on the fresh blood pooling on your skin. His hands came down to his own torso, feeling the scarred flesh that matched yours. 

After everything was said and done, the dust settled and Vecna gone for good, there was only the matter of medical care to worry about. Eddie was mostly unscathed, with a few bat bites here and there, but nothing some disinfectant and band-aids couldn’t fix. Lucas was sure to have a swollen eye, cuts, and bruises after fighting Jason. Max was delivered to the hospital where the doctors said she would make a full recovery but might need a pair of glasses. Which just left you and Steve. You had jumped in right after him at Lover’s Lake, fighting your way through the water as he was tugged deeper below. When you popped out of the gate mere seconds after him, the bats swarmed you too. It wasn’t until Nancy appeared, oar in hand, that you managed to escape the feeling of the bat’s teeth sinking into your skin. 

The bats had gotten you good, doing just as much damage to you as they had to Steve. When the fight was over and everyone was safely right-side-up, you refused to get medical care, worried that you’d be poked and prodded while Owens’ doctors tried to study your wounds. Steve refused too, unwilling to be treated unless you were first, not that you knew that.

Robin and Eddie insisted on staying with the two of you to make sure nothing bad happened in the middle of the night. But you said no, pointing out that Eddie needed to stay hidden until his name was cleared. Not to mention that you just wanted to be alone after the strenuousness of the previous few days. You assured Robin and Eddie that your parents would take care of you if anything happened, same with Steve. They reluctantly agreed, dropping you and Steve off in front of your house, leaving the two of you to go your separate ways.

You were about to trudge up the lawn and enter your house, thinking about finally being able to sleep, when you caught sight of Steve’s empty driveway. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that his parents were out of town, and he hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Robin either. Steve had already started walking towards his house when you called his name.

“You didn’t say that your parents weren’t home,” you jogged up to him, wincing at the pain that shot up your side. Steve shrugged, also looking desperate for a decent night of sleep. Steve turned around again, continuing towards his house, leaving you on his lawn. You started following him until he saw you from the corner of his eye and stopped again.

“What are you doing?” the words sounded twisted as they fell from his lips, the same venom you expected from the boy who bullied you for years. Your face grew hot with anger, suddenly wondering if you should just turn back around and retreat to your house.

“You can’t be alone tonight, not when you’re in such bad shape,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to come across firmly in an attempt to discourage Steve from arguing with you. He simply raised a brow in question. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” he moved to turn on his heel again, to scale his front steps and enter the cold empty house before him. But your arm shot out, landing on his arm and stopping him in his tracks. Steve froze, mind racing at the feel of your skin against his. He couldn’t remember the last time you touched him, given that you usually kept your distance whenever he was near.

“Steve, I can’t leave you alone in good conscience. If you bleed out and die, that’s on me,” you spoke the words quietly, almost sounding embarrassed to have to say them at all. Steve studied you, eyes roaming over your face. The walls you kept up around him seemingly fell in that moment as he caught sight of the worry hidden deep in your gaze. He nodded then, giving in and leading you to his front door, trying not to look visibly upset when your hand no longer held him.

The house was just as you remembered from when you were a kid. Clean and organized, everything in its designated place. It always frightened you back then, a house so pristine that it didn’t look like anyone could possibly live there. You followed Steve as he ascended the staircase, both of you winded and clutching your wounds when you got to the top. Steve showered in the bathroom attached to his room, offering you a towel and clean clothes before sending you off to the guest bathroom.

The hot water pulsed down on you, blood and grime swirling around the drain at your feet. The water seared your skin with each drop, but you didn’t mind, hoping the sweltering heat would rid you of the horrors you’d witnessed within the past few days. The sight of Eddie being tackled to the ground by a swarm of bats. The sound of Steve’s screams as his flesh was torn open. Your own wails of pain as the bats did the same to you a few feet away. Max’s broken limbs and unfocused eyes as Lucas held her in his arms on the way to the hospital.

You turned the shower off, unwilling to let your thoughts run rampant anymore. You were careful when drying off, avoiding your wounds to keep blood from soiling Mrs. Harrington’s stark white towels. She’d be sure to have a fit at the sight of a stain. You dressed quickly, pulling Steve’s old shirt and baggy sweatpants on. There wasn’t a first aid kit in the guest bathroom, so you headed back to Steve’s room, holding your shirt away from your body to avoid getting blood on it. You knocked gently on Steve’s bedroom door and it only took a moment for him to open it for you. 

His hair was wet, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as water dripped down his hairy chest. Your eyes lingered there for a moment before trailing to the bandages wrapped around his torso. Steve’s eyes followed yours, landing on the gauze tied tightly to his skin.

“I seem to get the shit beat out of me anytime something like this happens,” he used his towel to gently pat his hair dry. “I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up,” Steve shrugged, hanging the towel on the back of his bathroom door. 

“Can you do mine?” you asked quietly, lifting your shirt to reveal your wounds. Steve’s gaze flickered down to them, blood from each gash threatening to spill down your sides. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of your exposed skin. It was dumb, just your stomach on display, but it took Steve a second to contain himself. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, memories of your bare skin seen on the few occasions that you forgot to close your curtains before changing. Steve always looked away, but the flashes of your skin were seared into his brain. He nodded in response to your question, going into the bathroom with you trailing behind him. He told you to sit on the counter, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet next to your dangling legs. Steve wiped each wound with an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area and sopping up the thin blood that surrounded it. His hands were gentle and soft like he was afraid to touch you, to break you.

“Hold this,” Steve placed a gauze pad on one of the wounds, his fingers guiding your hand to rest over it, holding it in place. He ignored the tingle in his fingers as his skin brushed yours, moving on to place another pad over the other blemish. Your hand came up automatically, holding it in place without Steve having to tell you again. He unraveled the rest of the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your waist, softly brushing your hands away when he no longer needed you to hold the pads in place. Steve circled it around you a few times, finally securing the gauze tightly in place with a swift knot.

“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, his face close to yours. Steve hummed in response, letting his eyes drift to your lips for a moment too long before pulling himself away and packing up the first aid kit. He returned it to the cabinet, his shoulder brushing your leg in the process, sending chills down his spine. 

Steve stood then, opening the linen closet by the door, searching for a blanket to give you in case the guest room got too cold. You were tired, to the point of exhaustion really, longing to lay your head against a soft pillow. But fear came creeping in, the demons in your closet, or the demogorgons rather, holding your mind hostage. The fears controlled you then, in combination with the exhaustion, speaking words from your lips that you otherwise wouldn’t have even considered muttering.

“Can I sleep in here? With you?” when you were first dropped off all you could think about was finally being alone, but as you sat there now, Steve's clothes covering your skin, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Steve froze, and his quest to find a blanket quickly halted. He looked up at you, taking in the heavy bags under your eyes, the weight of the past few days slumping your shoulders forward. He knew under normal circumstances that you never would have asked, and probably couldn’t have even stood being in the same room as him for more than two minutes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. And he would take what he could get.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed,” Steve turned to the linen closet once more, searching for a blanket for himself this time. He heard you slide off the counter, thinking you’d brush past him and get into his bed, but you didn’t. You stopped next to him, pulling Steve’s focus to you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor. What if you bleed out? I’d never know if you were down there. At least not until the morning,” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, ceasing your seemingly endless babble. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring back at Steve with a worried brow.

“Okay,” he agreed, trying to calm himself, the jitters of being so close to you creeping in. “We’ll both sleep in my bed,” his hands fell to his sides and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Steve left the bathroom, turning out the light as he did. You slid into Steve’s bed, the sheets pulled up around you as Steve switched off his lamp. The bed dipped beside you from Steve’s weight. You went to roll over, trying to face him, but you were met with pain, gasping and clutching your side with a hiss. Steve shot up, trying to help you but only injuring himself with his sharp movement in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh as you both settled down onto your backs.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you mumbled and Steve chuckled beside you. The room was dark, filled with the scent of a burned-out candle, Steve's lavender-scented shampoo, dirty laundry, and something else inherently Steve. Your eyes watched the ceiling, lying in silence next to the boy you supposedly hated. He rustled around beside you, trying to get comfortable. In a normal situation, you would’ve snapped at him for moving the bed so much, but right now you found it amusing. After another minute of restless movement, he let out a groan.

“I normally sleep on my stomach, but this shit makes it impossible,” annoyance laced his tone as he referred to the bat bites lining the front of his stomach. Your head turned in his direction, silently taking in his side profile, his sharp nose, and long eyelashes. He almost looked normal if you ignored the angry ring of red flesh lining his neck. 

“I’m a side sleeper,” you spoke softly, Steve’s head turning towards your voice. For some reason, he liked hearing more about you, even if it was just something as silly as how you normally slept. “I’m in the same boat as you, Harrington,” the wounds on your sides making it impossible to lay that way. Steve could just make out the shadows of your face in the dim light. The curve of your lips, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. He thought you looked beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bats from getting you,” your lip quivered then, tears welling in your eyes as you lived up to your crybaby nickname. You weren’t sure where the burst of emotion came from, chalking it up to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon you. Steve lifted his head, his hand coming up to brush away your tears.

“Are you kidding? You jumped in right after me. If you hadn’t been there I would’ve been dead in less than a minute. You distracted some of them. I would’ve been bat food if not for you. If anyone’s sorry it should be me,” you shook your head and Steve’s hand came down to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against it gently as he spoke. Why were you letting him hold you like this? Why did it feel so comforting? You sniffled, trying to stop your tears from falling. “Baby, you saved me. I need you to know that,” you nodded at his reassurance, too choked up still to use your words. Your eyes were heavy by then, the lack of sleep weighing in on you even more. 

“I'm glad I went through that gate then,” you mumbled, words barely audible through your sleep-slurred speech. With the last of your energy, you moved, rolling onto your stomach, the wounds on your sides untouched by the mattress. Steve followed your lead, moving onto his side, and facing you. His arm draped across you, careful to avoid your wounds, and a soft sigh left your lips as your eyes slowly closed. Your breath evened out soon after, slowed inhales and exhales taking over. Steve’s fingers found the bulge of the cotton pads on your side, tracing across them gently, a comforting gesture that you’d never know about. He wished he had superpowers, the ability to heal you with just a touch. But he didn’t, so he’d do this instead, easing your pain with a soft touch while you slept.

When you woke in the morning you had the overwhelming urge to pee. You slid gently from Steve’s embrace, somehow managing to get even closer to him during the night. You tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. The large mirror covering the wall taunted you when you finished, urging you to take a peek beneath the gauze. You caved, hands gently pushing the gauze to the side. The bleeding had stopped and the gashes already started looking better. It was curious how well they had cleared up overnight, but you just shrugged, used to the strangeness of the supernatural by now. You climbed back into bed with Steve after putting the bandages back into place. You wanted another minute of peace, a moment, maybe the last of its kind, when you and Steve didn’t hurt each other. When Steve Harrington was still the boy you knew, not the one you’d grown to loathe.

“Shit Steve, seriously?” You winced as the blood began to trickle down your skin. “It’s a basketball game, not tackle football,” you lost your balance for a moment, Lucas’ arms shooting up to steady you. Steve stood speechless, incapable of fathoming how his hands did so much harm to you. The skin had never quite healed right, you suppose, more fragile than most other places on your body. “Eddie, can you take me home,” you asked, trying to keep your shirt from getting wet with blood, knowing your shorts were a lost cause with scarlet droplets already pooling at the waistband. Eddie nodded quickly, rushing to your side as if he had to carry you to the van.

“I can take you. I mean, I live next door. I’ll clean you up,” Steve suddenly was able to find words, knocked out of his stupor. He moved towards you then, but you raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I asked Eddie,” you spoke with a glare, already walking toward the court’s exit. Eddie shot Steve a sympathetic look before following behind you. Robin lifted her hand to comfortingly pat Steve’s back while his mouth fell slightly agape. You got into the van with a wince and Eddie closed the door for you. Robin, Steve, and Lucas were filing off the court then. Steve’s head was down while he unlocked his car. Eddie turned the keys in the ignition, started the van, and began to pull out of the lot.

It was an accident, you knew that, so why did it frustrate you so much? The same hands that once held yours as children now were the ones to lacerate your skin. Maybe it was the ache you buried deep inside, the one you’d never been able to alleviate, the pain Steve perpetuated for years. The one you hadn’t been able to forgive him for no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you wanted to. He left you, tossed you aside like you were some old sweater discarded beneath his bed, like you were nothing. It seemed never-ending like you’d never escape his harmful grasp. You wanted to be five again when the world seemed so much kinder and you loved Steve Harrington. Maybe the latter was still true, maybe that’s why he scarred you more than the others ever had.

As Eddie drove towards the exit, your gaze drifted up, landing on Steve. Robin and Lucas had already gotten into Steve’s car, but he stood outside of it, arms resting on the crook between the car’s roof and the door. His eyes followed you through the van window as Eddie sped away. A strange look overtook Steve’s face, one you couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a boy that never wanted to hurt you, but somehow constantly did.

I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs

           The sun hid behind the clouds, peaks of light streaming through the cracks in the sky. Tires rolled against the pavement, making their way across town. The radio was low in the car, some Fleetwood Mac song lulling softly through the air. Your car was old, covered in dents and scratches, with windows that only opened halfway and an engine that grumbled with each press to the gas pedal. Even though your parents offered to help you buy a new one, a more reliable form of transportation, you refused. This car held too many memories in its stained cloth seats. Your first kiss in the backseat, jam sessions with Eddie, driving Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the science fair where they finally got first place again. You couldn’t let it go, not yet, not while it still had some life in it. You knew how much it sucked to be abandoned. 

           The tires screeched and squealed as you turned into the Family Video parking lot. You pulled into a space near the front of the store, dim headlights shutting off when you pulled the keys from the ignition. Robin had told you she was working today, but as you looked around you were unable to find her bike in its normal place on the bike rack. You did however spot a maroon BMW parked near the back of the lot. That lying bitch. A sigh fell from your lips, eyes closing at the thought of seeing Steve. It had been two days since the basketball incident and you had been sure to keep your distance. Steve’s sorry eyes peeked through bedroom windows and only made you feel guilty for getting mad at him in the first place. But you couldn’t stall this any longer, the movies were due today and you’d be pissed if you got another late fee. So you grabbed the tapes from the passenger seat, holding them close to your chest as you closed your car door and walked through the entrance to Family Video.

           Steve stood hunched over the counter, the same way he normally did when the store was empty like it was now. His eyes were glued to the magazine that rested on the counter before him. It was a Cosmopolitan. He was ashamed to admit that he was searching its pages for tips on how to get back in your good graces. So far he was coming up short, but he still skimmed through it anyway. The bell rang above the door, signaling to Steve that a customer had entered. 

           “Welcome to Family Video. My name’s Steve. Let me know if you need help with anything,” the words spilled from Steve’s lips automatically, his gaze still glued to the magazine. It took Steve a moment to register the silence he received in response, brushing it off as another inconsiderate customer. At least that’s what he thought until a stack of tapes slammed down on the counter beside him. Steve looked up then, seeing you standing across from him with raised eyebrows. Your eyes trailed down to Steve’s magazine, and his gaze followed yours. In less than a second, Steve had slid the magazine off the counter, quickly tossing behind him. You simply blinked, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as the magazine crashed to the floor. 

           “I want to return some tapes,” you couldn’t help the smirk that remained as you spoke, pushing the stack of video tapes in front of the boy. Steve nodded, picking up the first tape and scanning it back into the system. “What were you reading there, Harrington?” he could hear your smile through your amused tone, refusing to meet your eyes as he continued to scan your tapes. 

           “Sports Illustrated,” Steve lied, ignoring the way your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, clutching your sides as giggles poured from your throat. Your laughter was contagious, causing a few chuckles to spring out of Steve too. 

           “Whatever you say, Harrington,” you composed yourself, finally ceasing your giggles, but the smile remained taut on your lips. Steve handed over your receipt for the returned tapes, expecting you to leave after clutching it in your hands, but you didn’t. Your feet drifted over to the movie-lined aisles and Steve couldn’t help but follow, tripping over his discarded magazine in the process. 

Eventually, you stopped in front of a shelf, Steve watched the way you studied your options. When one finally caught your attention you leaned up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. Your shirt rode up in the process, revealing the large bandages that covered the wounds on your sides. Steve’s heart dropped, the memories of the basketball game, the whole reason he had been reading that stupid magazine in the first place, flooded his mind. Just as your fingers brushed the front of the tape, seconds from getting ahold of it, Steve’s hand lifted it instead, offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you said sincerely, only then noticing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Steve beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away,” Steve’s gaze drifted to the ground, missing the pity that swelled in your eyes. “I’m sorry this shit keeps happening. It’s just that when I’m with you I can’t seem to function like a normal person,” he lifted his head then, catching a glimpse of emotion in your expression. Regret? Or is it that underlying anger you saved just for him?

“It’s fine, Steve,” you assured him, but the boy wasn’t comforted. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you didn’t let him. “Dude, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. It's fine. If anything I should apologize for being such a bitch about it. It was an accident, let’s move on,” Steve eyed you, unsure whether you were messing with him or not. But you were serious, hoping that the old Steve still lived within the boy in front of you, and that one day you could make amends. Maybe this was the first step, and if that meant forgiving him for something he accidentally did, then so be it. “Check me out?” you asked, holding the tape up for Steve to see. He nodded, going back behind the counter. He reached down, grabbing a copy of Casablanca from under the counter and placing it next to the movie you had just picked out, but you shook your head.

“You don’t want it?” Steve asked, suddenly wondering if you had been kidnapped and replaced by a clone. That was the only logical explanation for your behavioral change towards both him and your favorite movie. 

“Kinda bored of complicated romances at the moment. Maybe another day,” Steve slid the movie back under the counter, keeping it there in case you changed your mind. “I heard this one was good though,” you gesture to the copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that you had picked out. 

“Yeah, Robin said that she thinks I’d like it. Haven’t had a chance to watch it yet though,” Steve scanned the tape, fixing his gaze on the computer, where he typed in the code for his employee discount. He did it every time you came in during his shift, thinking he was sly and that you’d never noticed, but you caught on a while ago. It came to light after a rousing argument with Robin about how she had been overcharging you. 

You pulled a few crumpled bills from your purse, handing them over to Steve. He waited, knowing you were now going to dig around your purse until you found some coins, never willing to pay with anything other than exact change. After a few seconds, you pulled the coins out, two quarters, a dime, and three pennies. You placed them gently in Steve’s extended hand. His palm tingled with the brush of your fingers, quickly sorting the coins to alleviate the sensation. He handed you the bag with your tape when he finished putting your change away. With a small smile, you turned, heading back towards the door you entered through. Just as you were about to place your hand on the large handle and push it open, you stopped. Steve, who had been watching as you walked away, felt that dreaded sense of hope again, the one he felt so often when you were near.

“What time do you get done here?” Steve’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by your question. His mouth opened, fumbling for words as he checked his watch.

“Thirty-two minutes. Why?” you chuckled at his sudden nervousness. Maybe he really had come a long way from his days as King Steve. King Steve never would’ve struggled like this when talking to a girl.

“Do you want to watch this with me?” you held up the bag that housed the Ferris Bueller VHS, extending an olive branch. Steve’s response was immediate like he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes,” it was a simple answer, but you just nodded in return, a shy smile creasing the corners of your mouth. “We can watch it at my place. My TV is bigger,” Steve smirked, regaining his charming and flirty tone, the one you’d gotten so familiar with as a result of all the teasing. You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, smile still cresting your lips, and pushed your way through the exit.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you called out behind you, repeating the same words from earlier. Steve laughed, watching your retreating figure, the sway of your hips, and the swell of your ass. He looked at his watch again, still displaying the same time as when he had checked just moments before. Steve groaned into his hands. This was going to be the longest thirty-two minutes of his life. 

You were enveloped in a book, sitting on your window bench when a light tap sounded off next to you. Thinking it was just the old house creaking or something, you ignored it, eyes scanning the next page. That’s when it happened again, and again, and again. You pulled back your curtains and flung open the window only to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face by a pebble.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve swore, his cheeks turning red with guilt and embarrassment. He was standing below your window, pebbles spilling out of his hand. A week or two ago, hell maybe even a few days ago, you would’ve gone off on him, screaming about nearly hurting you and potentially damaging your window. But now, you just smiled, taking in the sight of the boy next door. Only Steve Harrington could make a romantic gesture nearly turn into a trip to the hospital. “I tried to leave you a message, but your curtains were closed,” you glanced over to his window, spotting the piece of loose leaf taped to it with the words ‘come over?’ scrawled in black ink.

“Give me two seconds,” you pulled your head back inside, closing the window behind you. As you did, a few of the army men on your window sill fell on their sides, no longer facing the window across the gap between two houses. Snagging the video tape from your desk, you ran down the steps, stopping in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway. Why did you suddenly care how your hair looked around Steve? Brushing off the thought, you continued, opening the front door to be met by the boy next door. 

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, following as he turned towards his house. You walked closely behind him, catching a whiff of hairspray, lavender, and cologne. Steve led you to the rec room in the basement, which housed the largest television in the Harrington residence. You handed him the tape and he slid it into the VCR before settling on the couch, a good two feet from where you sat. Neither of you mentioned the distance, just watching the movie and laughing at Ferris’ goofy antics.

As the movie progressed a chill ran through you, goosebumps prickling your skin. The Harrington’s seemingly liked to keep their basement ice cold. Steve noticed and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. He laid it on his lap, extending the end of it towards you. You accepted his silent invitation, closing the gap and sitting close with the blanket wrapped around the two of you. The rest of the movie was spent that way, thighs brushing against one another when either of you moved.

When the credits finally ended, with Ferris Bueller in his bathrobe disappearing from the screen one last time, you felt at ease. You hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable with Steve, but it was almost a relief that you managed to get through a whole movie without wanting to kill him.

“That was so good. Robin was totally right, I loved it. I'm basically Ferris Bueller so it makes sense I guess,” Steve shrugged and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bloomed from your lips at his comment. Steve turned to look at you, a brow arched in confusion at your humor. “What?” he asked bluntly, a hint of amusement on his face.

“You would think that you’re Ferris,” you spoke, looking smug. Steve's lips stretched into a daring grin, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Okay, if I’m not Ferris then who am I?” Steve leaned in close and you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.

“It’s so obvious that you’re Cameron. Sure, the people that don’t know you that well might think you’re Ferris, but I know you Steve Harrington, and you’re Cameron fully and completely,” your grin widened with Steve’s look of exasperation. His hand flew to his chest in mock offense.

“What the hell makes me Cameron?” his words still had the air of joviality behind them despite his faux wounded front. The corner of your lips faltered then, suddenly reluctant to divulge more about your characterization of the boy before you. You didn’t want to tell him what he already knew, that he and Cameron shared a strained relationship with their fathers, both all too afraid of disappointing the men who raised them. That up until recently both boys took all the shit that their fathers gave them, too freighted to stand up to them. You didn’t want to say any of it, which was fine because Steve already knew. From the second Cameron appeared on the screen, the voice in the back of Steve’s head pointed out each similarity that they shared. Silence settled over the two of you, smiles fading in the quiet room.

“If it makes you feel better,” you began, voice small and fingers fidgeting on your lap. Steve wanted to reach over and grab them, encase your fingers with his, but he restrained himself. “Cameron was my favorite character in the movie,” you nodded towards the TV screen that now reflected a blank blue shadow over the pair of you. Steve observed your bashful demeanor, thinking about how cute you looked when you got all shy. 

“You would definitely be Jeanie,” Steve asserted, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet. Your jaw dropped at the comparison and the smile returned to Steve’s lips at your reaction.

“Ferris’s bitchy sister?” Steve nodded and you shoved him again. He righted himself, continuing to make his point.

“I mean, come on, it’s so obvious,” Steve repeated your words from earlier and you shook your head. “You’re both a little crazy in a hot way. Not to mention you both go for bad boys,” you glared at Steve, but he could tell you weren’t actually mad.

“I’m not into bad boys, asshole,” you defended and Steve’s smirk grew, his rebuttal already concocted in his head.

“Oh really? So it wasn’t you that hooked up with Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party two years ago?” your jaw dropped again, and Steve’s snickering filled the air. He reached over, pressing your chin up to close your mouth. You brushed his hand off of you in confusion.

“How the hell do you know about that?” you asked, confusion and curiosity coursing through your thoughts. “Did Eddie tell you? I swear to god I’m never telling him anything ever again,” you crossed your arms, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Hargrove used to brag about it to me and try to rub it in my face,” Steve informed you and your face wrinkled, filled with questions. “I guess he thought that it would make me mad since you and I used to be friends or whatever,” Steve shrugged, no longer smiling. He watched you, unsure how you would react to his explanation. 

“Did it?” you questioned, and Steve shrugged again. He didn’t want to tell you that it did, that it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself from punching the blond boy’s stupid face.

“A little,” Steve lied and another silence fell over the room, but it wasn’t as tense this time. Steve waited a moment before speaking again, watching the way you avoided his gaze. “Why’d you even hook up with him? I thought you hated him,” Steve’s voice was quiet, unwilling to break through the low noise barrier that settled between you.

“You stole my copy of Pride and Prejudice,” you let out a sigh, gaze shifting to your hands that rested in your lap again. Steve’s brow furrowed, confused about the correlation between his question and your response. “It was the copy my grandma gave me when I was 11. I had notes in the margins on just about every page. You took it from my bag in homeroom the day before the party and refused to give it back,” Steve knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t remember why he took it, but he knew that he still had it, tucked away in his closet, in a spot that only he could find.

“But what does that have to do with Billy?” Steve still didn’t understand. Your hands ran over your face as you let out a sigh.

“You hated him and he hated you. I figured the enemy of my enemy was my friend, which wasn’t true by the way. I was super pissed about the book and a little tipsy. I needed to blow off some steam, so one thing led to another and we hooked up in his car after the party,” you were ashamed of it, regret filling you the second it was over. “I didn’t know that he was such a douchebag when it happened. If I had known how badly he treated Max and Lucas then I never would’ve done it,” you explained, still unable to meet Steve’s gaze, embarrassed by your past. Steve’s hand extended, tilting your chin with his finger, allowing your eyes to finally meet his.

“I shouldn't have taken your book, Baby,” Steve whispered and you gave him a soft smile in return. The nickname rang through the air and reverberated off the walls. Hearing it didn’t bother you for some reason. For the first time in years, the word didn’t sting as it fell from Steve’s lips. Maybe the tide finally turned, the war nearly over. It gave you a sense of courage, making you brave enough to let your next question out in the open.

“When Billy bragged about it, what did he say?” Steve was taken aback, wondering why you would want to know. Billy’s words were far from nice, if anything they were disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But the way you looked at Steve now told him that you genuinely wanted to know, needed to know.

“It was really depraved stuff, like how your body felt against him,” Steve started and you nodded, motioning with your hands for him to continue. “He said you would start to breathe heavily when he kissed your neck. That you did this thing with your tongue when you kissed that felt insanely good. He said you moaned his name like it was made just for you to say it. That your thighs shook when you…” Steve trailed off, face flushed and unwilling to finish his sentence. He had started speaking slower with each sentence, despite the racing of his heart. The tension floated thick in the air, crowding the room and making it way too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. Steve wasn’t sure when his hand had dropped to your lap, brushing between your legs from over the blanket.

Your eyes were glued to Steve’s, unaware of the distance that disappeared between you with each passing second. His breath mingled with yours, tingling against your skin. Your tongue darted out, bringing moisture to your dry lips. The heat between your thighs ached to be relieved, wishing Steve’s hand would travel higher up your thigh as his jeans tightened at the sight of your gaze alone. The blue from the TV screen that coated the room disappeared as your eyes fluttered shut. Both sets of lips were centimeters from meeting in the middle when the VCR popped out the tape, landing with a loud smack on the ground. Steve had leaned on the remote while moving closer toward you, accidentally pressing the eject button. He knew he needed to fix the VCR, worried about its tendency to spit out tapes rather than the slow half push it was supposed to do, but he’d put it off, too tired after a long day of work. You broke apart at the sound, creating more distance as you moved the blanket from your legs and scrambled back, Steve’s hand falling into the now empty space. Neither of you could look up at the other.

“I wish we stayed friends when we were in middle school,” Steve said after a long span of silence. He never wanted to be your enemy, never wanted to drive you into the arms of an undeserving man. Your eyes met then, his were glassy, which was something you hadn’t expected. 

“Yeah, me too,” your voice was small but sure, words speaking nothing but the truth. You didn’t remind him why you weren’t, something you would’ve done a week ago. Instead, you sat in agreement, pondering how different your life would be.

“I wonder what would've changed,” he spoke. It was soft, almost a whisper, and you longed to be close to him again. To feel his words fan across your lips instead of the empty space beside you. “If I would’ve been friends with Tommy, if I would’ve dated Nancy, if we’d be off at a college somewhere instead of this shithole town,” Steve was louder now, melancholy mixed with underlying anger. Even if you were finally able to be friends now, Steve couldn’t help but think about the time he missed out on with you and all the other lingering what-ifs. 

“We could still get out one day. Leave the teen angst and trauma behind,” you sounded normal again, reassuring to Steve’s overactive thoughts. “Maybe we could go together,” Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest at your words, but he reeled it back in. It was still new, being able to talk without words slicing into the other’s skin. You looked at him with anticipatory eyes, awaiting his response.

“Just give me the signal Baby and we can be out of here before sunrise,” Steve extended his hand, this was a deal to shake on, a long-term agreement that one day you’d run away together. You grinned, accepting his outstretched hand, wondering about where you’d go. Considering if you were in love with Steve Harrington, if you always had been. Dying to know if he was in love with you too.

A friend to all is a friend to none 

           Autumn had officially begun, a chill in the air that persuaded the orange leaves to tumble from the trees. It was your favorite time of year, though you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that swelled in your heart at the thought of leaving the warm summer sun behind. Eddie insisted that you come to visit him at work, his desperation ringing out through the static of the phone. After a few minutes of groveling, you caved and agreed to go, which is how you ended up banished to the backseat of Steve’s car on the way to the record store on main street. Robin had called shotgun, but you didn’t mind, having the entire backseat to yourself and stretching out your legs. Steve’s car smelled like pine trees and leather, hairspray and cologne, as it rolled along the pavement. 

Steve pulled up to a parking spot in front of the record store, placing his hand on the passenger seat headrest as he threw the car in reverse. He turned his head towards the car’s rear, watching carefully as he backed into a spot, shooting you a wink before he faced the front again. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread over your cheeks, feeling like a bumbling schoolgirl with a crush. Ever since your movie night, your almost kiss, things had been different with Steve. Sure, there was still some teasing and the typical dirty innuendos, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. It didn’t evolve into slammed windows and drawn curtains, loud arguments and bruised egos. Something new coursed through your veins, your heart beating just to hear the sound of his voice. It was scary, the rush of feelings that you’d seemingly repressed for years, hidden under what you thought was hate. 

“You coming or what?” Robin leaned back into Steve’s car to face you. The thoughts of Steve had distracted you and you only now noticed that they had already exited the car. You followed suit, unbuckling and sliding across the seat to get out on Steve’s side. He greeted you with an arm slung around your shoulder, purposely messing up your hair in the process. You swatted at him, smoothing your hair back down as you walked through the store’s entrance together. Music wafted down from the speakers that littered the ceiling and you instantly knew that Eddie had picked out whatever metal song was playing. As if he could hear the mention of his name in your thoughts, Eddie appeared in front of you, grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you towards the front counter. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve headed towards the back, searching for some Abba vinyl that Steve had been wanting for ages. The absence of Steve’s arm around your shoulder left you with a chill, the tingle brought on by his touch subsiding, but you brushed it aside following the long-haired boy. 

You went behind the counter with Eddie, hopping up to sit in the space between the cash register and the pile of records stacked to the left. It was a familiar spot for you, somewhere you’d sat a million times, much to Eddie’s manager’s dismay. In this spot, you’d talk about dates that you went on, someone from high school who got knocked up or married, a new song Eddie was working on, and your hatred for Steve Harrington. But this time was different. Eddie remained silent as you perched before him, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at you with knowing eyes. He came to stand in front of you, his stomach brushing against your knees. You glared at him in response, already knowing the words that were about to crest his lips.

“You and Harrington have been awfully close lately,” a smirk danced across his face, arms uncrossing, hands landing to rest on your knees. You narrowed your eyes, placing your hands behind you, and leaning back on them.

“We’re sort of friends now, I guess,” you shrugged and Eddie leaned in even closer, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead as if he was testing your temperature. You smacked his hand away, earning a yelp in response. The grin reappeared on Eddie’s lips as he shook his hand to alleviate the pain caused by your slap. 

“Friends, huh?” you nodded as his question, eyeing Eddie for his next move. Someone entered the store, the chime of the bell over the door alerting the both of you. But the two of you didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare the new customer a glance, too enveloped in your weird standoff staring contest. Instead, Eddie called out his standard greeting, welcoming the person to Rad Records, as his eyes roamed over you, searching for an unspecified answer. “Just friends, nothing more?” Eddie finally continued, needing more evidence to make his case, to find the answer to his unasked question. And you gave it to him, eyes darting away from his and legs beginning to bounce. Eddie’s jaw dropped, a gasp seeping from the open space between his lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Edward,” you rushed out, clamping your hand over his slack jaw. Eddie’s wide eyes trailed from you to Steve and back. His lips moved behind your hand, trying to speak, but you shushed him, refusing to let go until he calmed down. You cringed at the swipe of his tongue against your palm, but still held on tight. After a few seconds, Eddie stopped and you took it as a sign to set him free. Your hand retracted, falling limply onto your lap, where you wiped his saliva onto your jeans.

“Holy shit. You like him. You actually, consciously, like him,” Eddie whisper-yelled at you and it took a considerable amount of effort to not spontaneously combust at his words. It’s one thing to finally admit it to yourself, it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Still, you felt like there was a ritual you had to play along with, like you had to deny the accusation.

“I so do not,” you spoke stubbornly, but Eddie could hear the give in your voice, knowing the truth.

“You totally do. The fact that it’s taken you this long to realize is insane,” Robin spoke up from behind you, startling you with her sudden appearance. You looked beside her, expecting to see Steve, but he wasn’t there. You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved by his absence from the conversation.

“Where is Steve anyway?” you shifted on the counter, making space for Robin to rest her elbows next to you. Robin nodded towards the back of the store. Steve’s figure was obscured by the towering displays that littered the room.

“Some guy that he knew from the basketball team came in and started talking to him. Steve called him Jumpy or something. I dipped out as soon as I could, so Steve’s stuck back there now,” you cringed at the name that fell from Robin’s lips. Jumpy was the dumbass nickname of Allen Peterson, some douchebag that was friends with Tommy.

“Ugh, he and Tommy once broke into the girl’s locker room during gym and stole my clothes. I had to walk around in my gym uniform for the rest of the day. It was humiliating,” a frown bloomed on your lips, one that was echoed by Eddie and Robin. 

“I remember that. They somehow never got caught,” Eddie’s eyes trailed to the back of the store, still unable to spot Steve. “You want me to kick him out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in question, almost begging for the chance to kick someone out of the store. But you shook your head, tapping his shoulder so he’d move out of the way. He did, stepping to the side, allowing you to slide down from the glass counter.

“I want to see if he remembers me. Maybe mess with him a bit,” Eddie and Robin waved you off as you walked towards the back, the top of Steve’s perfectly styled hair coming into view as you got closer. You approached from behind Steve, not able to get a good view of his face. You were still hidden, questioning whether you should continue with your plan or not. Wondering if Allen would do something to upset you, tease you, and make you feel small. But Steve was there, and how could he hurt you when the boy you loved was standing by your side? Just as you were about to take a step out, you heard something, Allen’s voice. 

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with such losers,” Allen’s words elicited a soft scoff from your lips. He peaked in high school but here he was calling you a loser? You wished you could see Steve’s face, to know what was running through his mind, the witty comeback that was sure to leave his lips any second now. But it didn’t. All you heard was the smooth sound of his laugh dancing through the store.

“Come on, man. They’re not that bad,” you brushed off Steve’s weak, delayed defense. At least he stood up for you in some regard, that’s what matters.

“Nah man, that Baby chick is nuts. I remember how weird she was in high school, always crying over something. Sometimes I just wanted to bend her over and give her something to cry about, you know?” Allen mimed thrusting his hips as his words hung in the air. It made you feel dirty and violated, like he had already touched you in the way he said that he wanted to. The boy viewed you as an object, nothing more than something to be used to satisfy his needs. Your eyes bore into the back of Steve’s head, willing him to speak up on your behalf. To defend you, to protect you, to punch this asshole in the face. But Steve was never good at defending you and all he did was laugh again. That irritatingly coy laugh, the one that set off alarm bells whenever you heard it. The laugh that belonged to the reigning king, not the boy you loved.

“Oh yeah, totally. One good screw would straighten her right out,” at that moment you could’ve sworn that the entire town could hear your heart as it shattered. You weren’t really sure when you revealed yourself from your hiding spot behind the bookshelf, but your eyes locked with Allen’s, and his stupid smirk dropped. Steve tracked his gaze, spinning on his heels to see you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forehead creased, and red-hot anger coursing through you. You turned, moving as fast as you could towards the exit at the front of the store. Steve chased behind you, his hand catching your arm right after you passed through the door. Eddie and Robin looked alarmed at the sight of you both stopped before the store’s glass front.

“Let go of me,” you spoke hotly, cursing the strength of Steve’s grip. Steve’s eyes roamed over you, catching the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face before you restored it to its angry glare. 

“I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Steve began, but you quickly cut him off, still trying to wrangle your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t give a shit what you meant, Harrington. I thought you changed. I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. Guess I wrong to think you were capable of being a decent person,” Steve’s eyes watered at your words, hating himself for making you doubt him and how he feels for you.

“I have changed. I don’t know why I said that shit,” Steve pleaded, he wanted you to understand, to give him five minutes to explain himself. But Steve knew this was it, you’d already made your decision, it wouldn’t matter even if he got down on his knees and begged. He’d broken your trust, said shit he didn’t mean, and now he’d lost you again, the same way he did years before, the way he never wanted to again. Steve let go of your arm, giving you the freedom you asked for when you first left the record store with him in tow. Your arm felt numb, empty, without Steve’s hand there, and you cursed your stupid heart for not wanting him to let go.

“I guess old habits die hard, Harrington. Stay the fuck out of my life,” your words spat from deep within you, fire coating each syllable. Steve watched as you turned, making your way down the sidewalk and turning into an alleyway between two stores. Eddie and Robin burst through the record store’s entrance, ignoring the autumn chill that they were greeted with as they did. Steve wiped his eyes, glad to have tears clouding his vision because he was not sure he could stand to see his best friend's face as he recounted the past few minutes to her. Eddie looked to Steve, silently asking where you went, and Steve lifted his hand pointing in your direction. Eddie took off, turning the corner to the alley to find you slumped on the ground, knees to your chest and head in your hands. He approached you slowly, pulling you into him when he finally got close enough. Sobs racked your body, chest heaving against Eddie’s as he held you in a tight hug, knees resting on the cement below. 

“I hate him, Eds. I fucking hate him,” Eddie nodded in understanding, stroking your hair and pulling it from where it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “I should’ve known he’d break my heart again. I should’ve known not to let myself fall in love with him,” your tears soaked Eddie’s shirt and he froze, stuck on the words that fell from your lips. Love. Sure, he’d known you liked Steve, but love was different. Love meant more hurt. It held more weight. It meant that you set aside the past and moved on. It meant you finally gave in to the feelings that gnawed at your heart and your brain each night. It meant that Steve really fucked up.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

           Steve’s car finally peeled away and flew down main street, signaling to Eddie that the coast was clear. He walked you back to the now barren record store, save for his co-worker Terry, who was in the back unpacking a new shipment. Eddie asked Terry to cover for him and when Terry saw your tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes, he agreed, no questions asked. So Eddie put you in the passenger seat of his van and sped off down the road. You didn’t ask where he was going when he passed the street that led to your house, already knowing where he was taking you. 

           Eddie’s van stopped abruptly in front of his trailer. Wayne’s car was gone, signaling that he’d already left for work, leaving the trailer empty. It was getting dark, gloomy clouds blocking the sun as the moon rose in the sky opposite it. The porch lights flickered on, illuminating the shadows of your face through the cracked windshield. You caught sight of Lucas’ bike through the back window. It was lying on its side outside of Max’s trailer, thrown in haste. Normally it would’ve made you laugh, elicit a joke about young lovebirds to fall from your lips, but right now you couldn’t even will the corners of your lips to curl into a faint smile. 

Eddie opened your car door, gently lifting you by your waist and placing you on the ground. You followed him inside, trailing behind him like a lost, heartbroken puppy with nowhere else to go. He led you to his room, indicating for you to sit on his bed, so you did. Eddie placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind a mother gives her child, and lifted your arms. He disrobed you of your heavy knit sweater, your way of protecting yourself from the autumn winds that pierced the air, and replaced it with one of his Black Sabbath shirts. You unclipped your bra through the shirt, pulling it out of your sleeve before tossing it to the floor. The action always amazed Eddie, drawing a laugh from his lips, but this time he remained quiet, too concerned over you to pay attention to much else. Next, Eddie unlaced your shoes, pulling them from your feet. You shimmied from your pants after, throwing them across the room, uncaring where they landed. 

With a shaky breath, you laid down, facing the wall, your back turned to Eddie. Eddie pulled off his leather jacket, shucked off his jeans, and moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you, Eddie’s body now close to yours. He pulled the bed sheets up to cover you both before draping his arm across your torso. You relaxed into him a bit, fingers and legs intertwining with one another. It was a familiar position, one you and Eddie had shared a million times, but his comforting touch wasn’t working quite the same as it normally did. Not when your heart hurt this much.

Eddie wanted to ask what happened, pester you with questions, and uncover the truth, but he refrained, knowing you’d speak up when the time was right. His heart ached at the feel of your body shaking against his, small sobs springing from deep within your chest no matter how much you wanted them to stop. Eddie only held you tighter, his arms practically crushing your ribs as his own tears began to well in his eyes. You stayed like that for a while, long after the sun fully sank beneath the horizon, leaving the room in complete consuming darkness. The wind caused sapling branches to scrape against the window, becoming the only sound to fill the lingering silence. You stopped crying after a while, wishing you could sleep the pain away, but remaining unsuccessful in your attempts. 

Finally, you gave up, shifting to face Eddie, your forehead pressed to his. Breath intermingling, comforting you, letting you know that, yes, your heart may be broken, but you were still alive. Eddie studied you, unsure whether he should be the first to speak or not, but you quickly quelled that thought when you opened your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave Hawkins?” your question threw Eddie off, his brows scrunching in confusion. It’s not what he expected you to say. 

“Not unless the band takes off, and certainly not without Wayne,” Eddie had thought about it before, considered moving to a big city where the lights never dimmed and the gigs would never end. But as much as Hawkins may have hated him, he could never hate it in return. He’d get sick of the city noise and never be able to sleep, craving to hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas instead. So when you asked, he was sure of his answer. But he didn’t echo your question back to you, already knowing that your answer would be a resounding yes. It would be tough for you to leave everyone behind, but you longed for something different, somewhere new to help escape the past and finally look forward to the future. Eddie was lost in thought, still wondering why you asked that when you spoke again.

“He’s exactly who I thought he was,” it was a whisper, one that could easily be lost, left hanging in the air with no one around to hear it echo off the peeling walls. But Eddie heard it, he absorbed your words from the silent room, wanting to know more, so you continued. “I thought he was different now, but it turns out he’s still the same, too wrapped up in caring about what others think,” fresh tears sprang in your eyes, a sob tightening your throat as you spoke. “I’m tired of fighting against his undying need to be liked. I’m tired of losing against it every goddamn time. I’m done,” there was a finality to your tone, one that caused Eddie to lift his head from his pillow, a questioning look on his face.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to talk to him? Figure out what’s running through his head?” Eddie offered, but he knew the gesture would be wasted on you. Once you set your mind to it, it was done. But he wanted you to hear Steve out. He wanted you to find a way to reconcile your differences. For all the pain and confusion that Steve Harrington brought, he also filled you with joy and light. You’d been happier throughout the past few weeks than Eddie had ever seen you, illuminating rooms simply by entering them. Eddie didn’t want that to disappear, to be forever obscured by a compilation of closed curtains and avoidant gazes. But he was met with a furious shake of your head.

“No, Eds. I mean it. No more Steve,” Eddie nodded despite the voice in his head yelling at him to speak up and try to change your mind. It was no use. He rolled onto his back, one arm resting under his head, the other still laid across you. You shifted too, laying with your chest pressed to Eddie’s stomach, head resting just below his. “I wish it was you that I loved. It’d be much simpler that way,” you’re not sure why you said it, maybe the cloud that formed in your head from the day’s events expanded, spilling all of your hazy thoughts through your lips. It was a sad wish, an empty hurt with truth behind it. But Eddie understood, his own thoughts reflecting yours, the telepathy finally working in a way. He wanted to take away your pain in any way he could, but not like this. Not when your heart was beaten black and blue, longing for a simple ceasefire to mend your open wounds. Not when that same heart belonged to another, an echoed call through the woods waiting for the birds in the treetops to sing back with an affirmative answer. Eddie loved you, but not in the way the both of you currently wished for. An irrefutable loyalty that would consciously be limited to platonic fellowship, no romance lingering from either party in the way you held each other close.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s whisper slid through the strands of your hair, a soft kiss placed overtop of it. You’d grown quiet by then, breath evening out as you were finally granted your wish for sleep. Falling deep into a slumber where you were still five and Steve Harrington tucked flowers behind your ears as he whispered to you about love.

Days had passed, an endless stream of the same heartache and emptiness that blended each rise and fall of the sun together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next. Robin called you probably a million times, but you refused to come to the phone. Your parents opted to unplug the phone from the wall for a few days, growing tired of the incessant ringing. You knew she just wanted to talk about Steve, but that was something you couldn’t quite handle yet. You’d only plugged the phone back in to call out of work, letting them know you had a nasty stomach bug, not caring if they believed you or not. The curtains in your room remained closed with the little army men on the window sill replaced in their defensive stance. To you, this was war. 

On the fifth day of refusing to depart from beneath your bed sheets, your mom entered your room, messing with the knick-knacks that covered your dresser as she did. A custom D20 from Dustin, a kazoo Eddie gave you for your birthday one year joking about how you could be Corroded Coffin’s lead kazoo player, a mixtape Robin lent you ages ago, a new pack of colored pencils you’d been meaning to give to Will, and a flower that had been dried and pressed into a glittery bookmark, all littered your dresser’s surface. Your mom grabbed the bookmark, admiring the way the lavender flower retained its shape despite being flattened so many years ago. It was the same lavender that grew from the ground beneath your bedroom window, decorating the grass between the Harrington’s house and your own. You watched closely as she eyed the bookmark, curiosity flooding your thoughts. 

“I remember making this with you,” she spoke softly, a gentle cadence meant to comfort you, and it sort of did. “You came running inside with the flower and insisted that we save it. You said it was too important to let die,” she sat on the edge of your bed, bookmark still glinting in the soft glow of the lamplight. You propped yourself up on your elbows, wondering where she was going with all of this. She handed you the bookmark then, and you took it, confused, examining it as if you’d never seen it before. 

“I don’t remember that,” your voice was hoarse from crying. It didn’t help that you hadn’t properly spoken out loud in days, too congested with the bustling thoughts running laps around your mind.

“You were five. And if I remember correctly a certain boy had been the one to pick the flower for you,” you understood then, she was talking about Steve. Part of you felt betrayed, like your mother was providing aid for the enemy, but the other part of you wanted to know more, why she wanted to talk about this, especially now. “We always assumed the two of you would be friends, lovers even,” she wagged her eyebrows at you and the corners of your lips ticked up at the gesture. “So it was strange to see the distance that grew between you, the pain you caused each other. I’d always hoped you’d resolve your differences, and fall back into the same ease you had as kids, but I know it’s more complicated than that,” her hand reached up, brushing softly against your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you were crying until her fingers swiped over the fallen tears. “I love you, my Baby,” her words were a whisper, gentle lips pressed to your forehead. She patted your leg through your comforter, standing up as she did. On her way to the door, she stopped, turning back to look at you. “Maybe some fresh air might help. A trip to the store?” she suggested and for some reason you nodded, actually thinking that it would be nice to leave your bed for a bit. She smiled, making her way out of your room to grab the grocery list for you. As she rounded the corner, one foot out the door, she couldn’t help but notice the tight grip you kept on the bookmark in your hand. The flower within it that was always in bloom. Something that could never die.

You opted to go to the store alone, wanting to drive with the windows down and the music up, drowning out the overcrowded space in your head. It was nice to leave the house, to be in an open space with autumn in the air. The crisp leaves crunched under your tires as you pulled into the grocery parking lot. You were so concerned about making sure that you had the list your mom gave you that you completely missed the maroon BMW parked on the opposite end of the lot. Once you had the list, you grabbed a cart, its wheels squeaking loudly as you made your way down aisles, grabbing item after item off the shelves.

There was only one thing left on your list, a bag of tortilla chips, which was your dad’s favorite snack food for some odd reason. You almost chuckled to yourself seeing how his scratchy handwriting interrupted your mom’s pristine list. With a squeal of protest from the shopping cart’s wheels, you turned the corner, eyes roaming over the chip options in front of you. You finally found what you were looking for and stood up on your tiptoes, the top shelf being just a bit too high for you to reach. A warmth washed over you as someone leaned into your space, large hands retrieving the bag and offering it to you. Your breath stopped for a moment and you found yourself unable to move.

“I’m just gonna put these in here then,” Steve spoke softly, placing the chip bag into your cart when you froze. He looked tired, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was flat, almost greasy looking, lacking his usual abundance of hairspray and product. Steve watched you, the way you shrunk at the sight of him and he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. He never wanted to hurt you, to make you feel less than what you were. And to Steve, you were everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, an apology sputtering from his lips, but the sight snapped you out of your stupor, suddenly springing to action.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” your voice was firm and cold, nothing like the ease it held back at Family Video the last time he tried to right his wrongs. 

“Just let me explain, please,” he pleaded, eyes soft, a glimmer of familiarity in them. For a moment you almost let him, finding yourself more than willing to listen to the boy speak. You were reminded of the comfort you found in the sound of his voice recently, the swell it brought to your chest. But that vanished when you remembered the way he laughed when talking to Allen, his vile words leaving your glass heart shattered across the record store’s stained carpet. It felt like a slap to the face, a cut on your cheek, a crack in your rib. You meant what you said, you were done with him. The boy before you showed no growth. He was still the same boy who called you names, taunted you in the halls, stole your favorite book, and scared off the boys you liked. 

“No,” it was stony and resolute, an end to the conversation. You pushed your cart away, leaving Steve behind, your shadow cascading over him as you did. You made your way to the register and Steve followed close behind. He got in line behind you, but he stayed quiet, unsure what to say. He only had two things in his basket, which made his checkout go by quickly. By the time he got out to the parking lot, you were still there, placing the hefty grocery bags into your trunk.

“Let me make it up to you,” Steve startled you, appearing at your side out of nowhere. “I swear I've changed, I promise. I care about you, so much,” you slammed your trunk closed, wheeling your cart back to where it belonged. Steve followed you, but you stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his pleas. He stood in front of your car door then, blocking it so you couldn’t get in. “I don’t want to lose you again. Let me show you I care. Let me prove it,” he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Part of you wanted to reach out and hold his face in your hands. The other part wanted to hurt him more, make him feel what you felt. The latter won. 

“You can’t prove shit to me, Harrington. I don’t believe it, any of it. You’re still the same stupid boy you were when we were 11, and I fucking hate you for it,” you spat and Steve’s face hardened. You wanted him to yell back at you, to prove that he felt something for you, something worth fighting for. But he didn’t. He simply stepped aside, a new slump in his posture as he let you go. His gaze followed the battered silhouette of your car as it drove off, a wisp of fallen leaves and Steve’s shredded heart trailing behind it.

When you got home you stormed inside, leaving the groceries in the car for your parents to unload. You fell back into your bed, resuming the same position you held before you went to the grocery store. It took some time, anger encapsulating your every fiber, but eventually, you fell asleep, putting the situation with Steve aside as you escaped to the peace of your dreams. 

You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore. Rolling onto your back, you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye, something that was out of place. Your body groaned as you arose, hesitant steps towards your desk, hands slowly lifting the object. It was a book, but not just any book. It was Pride and Prejudice, the copy that your grandmother gave you years ago, the one that was taken from you. You flipped through the pages, fingers tracing the words you’d penciled in on the margins. Stuck between its pages was a bookmark, your bookmark, with lavender and specks of glitter decorating it. 

You sat back on your bed, wondering why the book was returned so suddenly and out of the blue. Your mom was the one to put it in your room, marking its pages with the bookmark, but Steve had been the one to take it years ago. Why did he keep it? Why give it back now? Was this the end? A bookend in your tumultuous relationship with the boy next door? A post-it note fell from between the book’s pages and you leaned down to grab it. Written in Steve’s messy scrawl was one word. 

“Please.”

And you’d come back to me

           The note was metaphorically stuck in your head, lingering like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. It didn’t help that it was physically stuck to your nightstand, its fluorescent green shade haunting you with each passing glance. But you just couldn’t will yourself to throw it away. It was a life preserver tossed to you after falling overboard, a worm on a hook meant to reel you in, a last attempt to fix what had been broken, to reconcile with Steve. You meant it when you said you were done, but the ache inside you longed to be quelled. And there was only one person that could do that. The least you could do was hear him out. Find closure, nothing more, or so you told yourself. 

A few days had passed since your encounter at the grocery store and you finally felt brave enough to face Steve again. You knew he was home given that his car had scarcely left the driveway in the past few days. Your legs felt wobbly, knees knocking as you marched in the dark through your lawn, crossing over onto the Harrington’s property. It was late, but you knew he’d still be awake, just as plagued with his thoughts as you were. You jabbed the doorbell with your finger, waiting nervously for the door to open, to see the boy that plagued your thoughts. But it didn’t. So you rang it again, and again, and again. Repeatedly pressing the button until the door finally cracked open.

“I don’t want whatever you’re selling, man,” Steve began but stopped when he saw you, straightening his slumped shoulders. He looked worse than he had at the grocery store like he hadn’t slept in days. He let the door hang open as he gaped at you, unable to form words. You took advantage of the open space, slipping inside his house before he could stop you. Steve shut the door, turning to see what you were doing, but you’d already made your way upstairs to his room. 

His room was pretty much the same as it had been the last time you were there, back when the world almost ended. Clothes strewn across the floor, trophies lining small shelves, movie posters galore. You noticed a new poster though, one for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Steve finally caught up to you, his perpetual gloominess temporarily taken over by confusion as to why you were suddenly here in his house. You sat on the edge of his bed and he followed suit, worry filling his entire being. Was this the end? Did you come to say goodbye? Steve’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, panic rising in his throat when you finally spoke.

“You said you wanted to explain, so explain,” your voice was soft and quiet, a tone completely unlike the one you used when you were mad. Steve was baffled, wanting to know what made you decide to hear him out, but he knew better than to waste what very well could be his last chance with you.

“I didn’t mean what I said in the record store. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to beat the shit out of Allen when he said that stuff,” Steve’s hands shook as he spoke, watching your face for any sign of emotion. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wished he could read your mind. But he couldn’t, so he continued. “It’s like every time I’m around someone from high school, I get pushed aside and someone else takes control of what I say. Someone that reminds me a lot of my father,” angry tears welled in Steve’s eyes. He hated that after all these years his dad still had such an impact on him and the way he acted.

“Steve,” you spoke up, still emotionless in your tone. But Steve stopped you, wanting to continue, practically begging you with his glassy eyes to let him. So you did.

“I know it's not an excuse, and it's so so shitty of me. But he’s just there in the back of my head reminding me that Harrington’s are winners,” a tear dripped down his cheek and it took a great deal of restraint from you to not reach out and brush it away. “I hate that I let him win. I hate that I ever betrayed your trust, that I was so mean to you in school, that I let you out of my life. I hate that I let Allen get away with what he said, that I agreed with him instead, because I don’t. I think you’re beyond perfect the way you are. I don’t want to change anything about you,” Steve stopped for a moment unsure if you’d let him continue. Little did he know that your breath had caught in your chest and extinguished any words that might have spilled from your lips.

“I never ever want to hurt you again,” Steve continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise, I won’t. I want to be better, I want to be the boy you trusted when we were kids. I care about you so unbelievably much. I never stopped, not once. Please let me prove it,” he’d moved closer to you and you let him, trying your best to keep your feelings hidden from your expression. You were close to breaking, to giving in, to letting yourself be unequivocally in love with Steve Harrington. But you still had to put up a fight, to prove it was the right choice, not just a never-ending loop of pain.

“I’ve given you so many chances, Steve. How do I know this one would be any different?” you couldn’t look at him, knowing you’d lose all your resolve if you did. So your eyes fell to your lap instead. Steve watched your avoidant gaze, wanting more than anything for you to face him.

“Because I love you,” it was firm and unwavering, a declaration spilled from Steve’s cracked lips. It snapped your attention to him immediately, granting Steve his previous wish. “I always have, even when we were kids. I got confused when popularity came into play, but it was still there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now, and I’ll do anything for you, anything to keep you with me,” Steve grew shy, still unable to tell how you feel. “I want you in any way that you’ll have me. Anything is fine with me as long as I have you back in my life. I just can’t lose you,” Steve finished, leaving his words in the air for you to respond. You took your time to collect your own thoughts, to steady the thump of your heart in your chest.

“Steve,” it was soft, gentle, longing, matching the tone Steve hoped to hear. “I don’t want to lose you either,” the words halted Steve’s heart in his chest. He hoped this was it, that you loved him the way he loved you. “I want to trust you again, but you have to earn it. We can't just keep hurting each other,” you asserted and Steve nodded wildly. You wanted to laugh at the way his hair flopped around on his head as he did it, but you refrained, simply letting a smile crest your lips instead. Steve’s lips matched yours, curling at the edges, and soon you found yourselves incapable of holding back the soft chuckles that rose in your throat.

Steve’s eyes never left you, admiring the smile he’d so dearly missed seeing. He only ever wanted for you to be happy, only wanted you to know you’re loved. And from here on out, he’d make sure that you were. You leaned forward resting your forehead against Steve’s, one last ditch attempt at your silly determination to communicate telepathically. It never worked with Eddie, so why not try it with Steve, the boy you loved since you were five. It would ease the tension, tell Steve what your lips were too scared to say.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, hands coming up to hold Steve’s shoulders in place. His hands wrapped around you, resting on your waist, feeling your scarred skin through the thin material of your shirt. Steve scoured his mind, focusing on you, the soft reflection of light in your eyes, the way your lips were dry and cracked, the curve of your cheekbones. You were more than beautiful to him, you were angelic, bewitching, radiant. You were everything he ever wanted and needed.

“That you like me too?” Steve put on his smug charm, trying to cover up his nervousness. It made you want to laugh, to kiss him, to tell him the truth.

“So close, Stevie. I was thinking more along the lines of love, but if that’s what you’re getting then, sure, we can go with that,” you shrugged jovially, a smile stretched across your cheeks as Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes watched you for any sign of doubt, of mockery, but he couldn’t find any. He knew it then, you loved him too. Steve found your gaze, eyes whispering to him in their own secret language. Kiss me, they said, and who was he to deny them of their wish? Steve pulled you in, grip tightening on your waist as he did. Your chest was suddenly flush with his, your body now resting in his lap, lips only a breath away from meeting. It was a last chance to bow out, to give it up for good, but you didn’t want to. You tilted your chin, finally closing the gap and brushing your lips against Steve’s. The kiss was encompassed by every flower he’d ever picked for you, every peek behind closed curtains, every taunt and tease and fight, every innuendo, every unseen longing gaze, every utterance of the name Baby, all wrapped together. It felt like winning a game of hide-and-seek that had been called off after an hour of unsuccessful searching, a ring of smoke clinging to the air and lingering high only to be dissipated by the summer breeze, a ceasefire on the battlefield for a war that had gone on too long. It felt like Steve, and you couldn’t get enough of it. His lips danced with yours, never wanting to feel anything but the crush of you against him. But eventually, you ran out of air, pulling back enough to breathe, still keeping your forehead pressed to his.

“I think I knew you loved me because I always loved you too,” Steve’s words were breathy, softened with the heave of his chest. Your smile flashed through your heavy breaths and hot cheeks. Steve Harrington loved you, and you loved him too. It would take some getting used to, but you liked the sound of it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning back in to reattach your lips to his. 

A moan mixed in with the kiss, grumbling up from Steve’s throat. His hands shifted down past your waist, landing on your ass with a light squeeze. You laughed at the gesture, keeping your lips pressed against his, and Steve’s heart melted at the sound. But he didn’t have long to linger on the feeling, because your hips rolled against his crotch, catching him off guard. Steve’s mouth opened a bit at the feeling, eliciting a groan from deep within him. You took advantage of the opportunity and slid your tongue against Steve’s. You did the move that you always did, a roll of your tongue against his, and Steve’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.

“Fuck, is that the tongue thing that Hargrove was talking about?” Steve asked, pulling away for just a second before attaching his lips to the column of your neck. 

“I don’t want to talk about Billy right now, okay?” you gasped as Steve’s teeth bit into the sensitive spot on your neck. You felt heat flush straight to your core and a whimper slipped from your lips. Steve was mesmerized, enthralled with the sweet sounds you made and the way your breaths picked up.

“Noted,” Steve spoke against your neck, sending vibrations down your spine. He worked his way back up to your lips, hand trailing under your shirt. You flinched when his hand brushed your scar, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. You always had to lie to your hookups about where the scars came from, but you didn’t need to with Steve. He knew you. He had matching wounds. Steve pulled away, worried about the way you shuddered when he came into contact with the healed skin. But you just lifted your arms above your head, signaling for Steve to remove your shirt. The soft fabric slid from your skin, leaving your chest exposed. You’d foregone a bra that morning, and given the entranced look on Steve’s face at the sight of your bare breasts, you were really glad that you did. His hands gravitated towards your chest, cupping it gently. Steve’s thumbs came to rest on your nipples, brushing back and forth over them, evoking a delicious moan from your lips.

His mouth found yours again, and you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind against his, craving friction to satisfy the heat pooling between your legs. You removed Steve’s shirt then, and instead of resuming his previous position, Steve tilted his head down, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the pleasure that coursed through your veins, grinding harder against Steve’s lap. He was hard beneath his sweatpants, and his length caught against your clit with each movement, only further riling you up. Soft moans fell from both of your lips in harmony until Steve’s mouth departed from your chest, shifting to lay you down with his body hovering over you. His lips were swollen and red, wet with his saliva as he gazed down at you. He looked at you with a hunger that he’d suppressed for far too long as his hands trailed down your stomach, slowly pulling down the sweatpants that rested on your hips. You lifted your bum, making it easier for Steve to take them off. Once your pants were discarded on the floor, Steve’s face shifted down, hovering over your clothed cunt. 

“You don’t have to,” you spoke quietly, suddenly seeming shy and so drastically different from the girl who just rolled her tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“Trust me, Baby, I want to. I want to so fucking bad, have for a long time,” Steve’s eyes found yours, but he didn’t move from his spot between your thighs. His breath fanned over your skin, only adding more heat between your legs. He placed small kisses on your inner thighs and your back arched at the sensation. Steve truly had waited a long time to do this, thought about it late at night while his hand fisted his cock, so he was going to savor every second. His fingers dragged over your panties, drawing little stars over the material. You threw your head back, unable to contain yourself as a result of Steve’s teasing.

“Please Stevie, need you so bad,” you begged, breath coming out ragged and labored. Steve smirked up at you, finally hooking his fingers into the cotton material and yanking them off. He lowered himself further, breath now fanning over your exposed heat. Steve wasted no time, licking into your cunt, flexing his tongue with each flick back and forth through your wet folds. You gasped as he held down your thighs, holding them tightly around his head. His tongue was persistent, like a starved man eating for the first time in days. Steve’s hips rutted against the mattress, so turned on by the noises you made, the way you tasted, how you felt against his tongue. It got to a point where you could hardly keep still, squirming wildly beneath Steve’s steel grip, and he knew you were close.

His mouth came up to your clit, sucking it with enough force to make you whine out his name. He could come at just the sounds you made, but he held back, keeping his focus on your core and the shake that slowly began in your thighs. The coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach snapped, a wave of pleasure flooding through you. Steve lapped at your folds, capturing the last of your arousal on his tongue as you came down from your high, chest heaving and thighs quaking.

“Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shifting up to place a kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, a whimper escaping you in response. Without breaking the kiss, your hands came down, fumbling to rid Steve of his sweatpants, but he stopped you. 

“I wanna return the favor, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good too,” you spoke between kisses and Steve pulled away, hastily shaking his head. 

“You do that now and it’ll be all over. I’d rather come inside you, Baby,” Steve's eyes asked you for permission, wanting more than anything to be buried inside you. You understood what he meant and nodded eagerly, the idea reigniting the heat between your thighs. Steve got up quickly, pulling his pants from his legs. You repositioned yourself, now on your hands and knees, facing away from Steve. He kneeled on the bed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, gently finding its resting place on your waist. His lips placed a quick kiss to your spine as he took his length in his hand. He pumped himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in with a wrecked moan. Your walls stretched around him, squeezing his length as he bottomed out. You couldn’t help the faint pants that fell from your lips at the feel of being so full. 

“Fuck, Steve, so big,” you whined, arms weakly holding you in place. He chuckled behind you, trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. You were so tight, your walls surrounding him perfectly. He slowly started to move, pulling his hips out gently and pushing himself back in. Steve was practically growling at the sensation of your walls clasped so close around him. As you both adjusted, Steve sped up, his hips bouncing quickly off the curve of your ass. It was hot and wet, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping together filled the room. 

“Taking me so good, Baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds. Making ‘em just for me, right?” Steve’s breath was labored, trying hard to hold on as his fingers dug into your hips. You complied with Steve’s request, letting your stifled whimpers echo throughout the room. Steve pulled you up then, your back pressed to his front as your ass bounced off his thighs. He thrusted up into you and his hands came up to fondle your breasts. “Tell me you’re close, Baby. I can’t hold on much longer,” he muttered in your ear, ending his statement with another shaky groan. You nodded, the back of your head moving against his shoulder as you did. He quickened his pace then, using every last ounce of reserve that he had to pound into you, bodies pressing together. Your face scrunched in pleasure and Steve’s followed, both of you toeing the edge of blinding pleasure. 

“Fuck, Stevie. Love you so much,” you moaned through ragged breaths, hand coming behind his head in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. The words you spoke and the crash of your lips against his had Steve coming undone. His hot streams of cum coated the inside of your walls, triggering your own high, cries of Steve’s name muffled by the taste of his swollen lips. You sunk back down onto his lap as he finally ceased his movements, resting on the back of his heels, still buried deep within you. His eyes met your soft gaze and he couldn’t help the uptick of his lips. You loved him and that’s all that mattered to him now.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up, slowly redressing to various degrees. Steve pulled on the boxers that were lost in his sweatpants while you draped your oversized shirt back over your frame. You gave up on trying to find your panties, accepting that they were now lost in the mess of Steve’s cluttered bedroom floor. You fell back into bed with Steve, rolling on your side to face him, the bed sheets draped over you. Steve’s legs brushed against yours, slowly intertwining until one of your legs rested between both of his. You caught sight of a cherry stem resting on his nightstand, one that had been tied in a knot, and held back your teasing remarks about him keeping it. Steve studied you, wanting to memorize this moment, each feature of your face. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to the sight of your soft, pleasant smile as you watched over him in the same way he did to you. Eventually, Steve’s lids grew heavy, fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.

When you woke in the morning, you were still tangled together, radiating heat off one another to fill the otherwise cold morning air. You nestled your head into Steve’s bare chest, a soft groan slipping from him as he awoke. Neither of you wanted to get up, face the morning, and separate after a night together. The only reason you eventually did get up was because Steve had to go to work and you were sure your parents would notice your absence soon.

You went downstairs before him, waiting for him to find his car keys in the mess of his room. You shared a kiss on his doorstep, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as he pulled your hips flush with his. A whine escaped you as he pulled away, leaning down to pluck a daisy from his mom’s well-manicured front garden. Steve tucked the daisy behind your ear, placing one last kiss to your lips before walking over to his car. He opened his car door, stopping for another glimpse of you before he left. You smiled at him, waving him off and watching as he backed out of the driveway. He blew you a kiss before putting the car in drive and pulling away. You held the kiss close to your heart, the heart that now belonged to him, and headed back across his lawn to your own house.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air as you shut the front door behind you. Your parents sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper between them and a cup of coffee each. You drifted into the kitchen, ignoring their questioning looks, and plugged the phone back into the wall. Your parents shared a silent look, a look of relief that the storm was over, that normalcy would soon resume. 

You went upstairs then, entering your bedroom and pulling back the curtains that encompassed your window. You planned to leave a note for Steve stuck to the glass, the same way you used to when you were kids, one for him to find when he got back home from work. But when your eyes drifted to the window across from yours, you were met with confusion.

In place of the army of green men that once sat on the window sill was a pencil with a half sheet of white paper attached to it. A white flag. Steve surrendered, and the war was over. You smiled at the gesture before crafting your own flag to mirror the one across from you. It would be a truce then, breaking even and giving up the fight. The ache in your chest was quelled and replaced by an unfathomable warmth. There were no winners or losers anymore. There was just you and Steve, two lovers that took way too long to figure it out. 

You would call Eddie and Robin later to explain the previous night’s events, but for now, you sat back on your bed, Pride and Prejudice clasped in your hands. You opened the cover, eyes landing on the bookmark between its pages, mind drifting off to the boy that picked you flowers and told you he loved you so long ago. Maybe you knew him all along. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

You put me on and said I was your favorite

The summer sun beat down on Steve’s tanned skin, sweat dripping from his brow, making a trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wishing to escape Hawkins’ summer heat. With a deep breath, Steve leaned down to grab the box at his feet, hoisting it up to hand to you. You stood in the back of a U-Haul, organizing the boxes that were handed to you. Your very sweaty boyfriend flashed you a smile before turning to go back into his house and grab more boxes.

“You guys couldn’t have picked a hotter day to move,” Eddie appeared in front of you, unruly curls stuck to his forehead and neck. You’d offered him a hair tie earlier, but he declined, now stuck suffering in the humid air. His arms were strained with the weight of the box he was carrying, clearly struggling more than Steve had been.

“Sorry, Eds. We can’t control the weather,” you took the box that he had brought out, placing it somewhere behind you in the truck. You brushed away the sweat that had formed above your lip and watched as Eddie shook his head.

“I can’t believe you guys are actually leaving,” a sad smile stretched his lips as he spoke. He knew that it would happen eventually, that you would leave behind this horror story of a town and start anew. You’d suffered more Upside Down related trauma than he had, and he knew the fears that still crept into your mind from time to time. It was a good change, even if it meant leaving the people you loved behind.

“Me too, honestly,” you looked up then, head snapping towards the sound of voices arguing in the distance. Steve and Dustin were on Steve’s front porch loudly talking back and forth about how to move Steve’s dresser from his room. Robin stood next to them, rolling her eyes and dragging Max towards your house to grab the last of your book collection. “I’m glad it's with him though,” you nodded your head towards Steve, who was still deep in his discussion with Dustin, wild hand gestures and all. Steve caught you gazing at him from the corner of his eye, shooting you a look that said ‘this kid is crazy’ before disappearing into the house, Dustin hot on his trail. 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are in love or whatever. We get it,” Mike appeared at Eddie’s side, his slim arms struggling to carry his box. You raised a brow at him, lifting the box from his arms with ease and he faced you with an unamused glare. 

“I think it's sweet,” Will approached behind him, also unloading a box into your arms. He smiled at you sweetly, and suddenly it hit you how much you were going to miss all of them. The bickering and the fights, the tight hugs and reassurances that they would call to let you know they got home safe. The late nights spent overanalyzing every detail of some cheesy movie that you’d forget the plot of by the morning. And in the background of it all was Steve. His forlorn gaze as Nancy walked you down her driveway to your car. His open curtains waiting for your lights to flicker on when you got back from work. His grand gestures as he put himself in harm's way, trying to protect you. You pretended to hate each other, but now you know that you never really did. 

The afternoon dragged on, the heat weighing heavy on everyone as boxes and furniture were piled into the truck. Eventually, you all finished and everything you owned was packed away. Steve grabbed a quick shower, rinsing the sweat from his body to make the long car ride more comfortable. You hugged your parents goodbye, urging them to come visit once everything was unpacked. The others still lingered, waiting to watch as you and Steve drove away. Tears filled their eyes and streamed down sweaty cheeks as you hugged each of the younger kids, promising to return for Thanksgiving. 

Steve began his round of goodbyes, mainly opting for a secret handshake or a ruffling of hair. Robin squeezed you so tightly that you thought she might crack one of your ribs. She sniffled as she pulled away, moving on to give Steve the same crushing embrace. Eddie stood before you, his head tilted towards the ground. You brushed his hair back from his face, catching sight of his tear-stained cheeks. He pulled you close, arms encompassing your frame. 

“You’ll call every week?” he spoke into your hair, burying his face in it to hide his swell of tears. You nodded against him, your own muffled cries slipping from your lips. He pulled back then, and Steve was right behind you.

Steve placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front seat of the U-Haul. He said his goodbye to Eddie before joining you. Steve’s car was hooked up to the back of the truck and your parents planned to bring yours up with them when they came to visit.

You stood on the ledge of the truck admiring the sea of your friends that stood before you. They watched you with tearful eyes as you shot them one last watery smile and slid into your seat. Your gaze was pulled towards the side of your house, your bedroom window that sat across from Steve’s. It was funny to think how close he always was, even when he felt miles away. Steve’s hand brushed yours then, the tingle of skin pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ready to go, Baby?” Steve asked, reaching down to put the truck in gear. His hair was still wet, smelling of his lavender-scented shampoo. You ran your hands through it, brushing the loose strands to the side. Steve caught your hand, placing a small kiss on your palm before you could pull away. 

Sixth grade Steve was right, you were leaving with your things packed into boxes and a new city calling your name. But not because you were the worm girl that was running away. It wasn’t because this town had terrorized and taunted you to the point of no return. You were leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt forced out. And sixth grade Steve was wrong about you finding the love of your life once you left too, because you’d already found him, and for that Steve couldn’t be happier.

“With you?” you questioned, eyebrows raised, hand still encompassed by Steve’s. He nodded, showing you that smile that he reserved just for you. The same one he gave you as you sat on the sidewalk with dried worms newly relocated to the surrounding grass. You mirrored his look, gazing into his hazel eyes with all the love and adoration you had acquired for him over the years. “Always.”

[loveinhawkins]

It’s the last period of the day, and in his peripheral vision, Steve can see Eddie Munson fighting sleep, elbow repeatedly slipping off his desk.

They’re not usually in this class together; a good handful of teachers are on a ‘field trip’—which had been sold to the principal as an educational experience, but was really an excuse for both students and staff to while away the last remaining days of the semester.

So most classes have become an assortment of students who haven’t gone on the trip, odds and ends who usually wouldn’t cross paths.

When Steve had entered, he saw that the room was sparse, people dotted about the place with no regard to a seating plan—he’d headed straight for a desk by the window, hadn’t even noticed that Eddie Munson was in the seat right beside him until he’d already sat down.

And then it turned out he couldn’t even reap the benefits of choosing a seat near said window. The room was stuffy, unbearably so, and Eddie had beaten Steve to it, actually raising his hand and asking, perfectly politely, if he could open the window.

But the substitute teacher had just sneered and replied haughtily, “No, Munson, you cannot.”

Condescending ass, Steve had thought, and he was almost looking forward to one of Eddie Munson’s infamous diatribes.

But Eddie just wilted in his seat and didn’t say another word.

That’s when Steve noticed that he kept looking down at his desk. There was a piece of paper on there, an end of year test—Steve recognised Mrs O’Donnell’s handwriting making comments in the margins. The top right hand corner was folded over in such a way that just made the hiding of the grade all the more obvious: it was clearly an abject fail.

As Eddie stared at the paper, he started to blink rapidly, and for a horrible moment it seemed like he was going to cry, so Steve quickly looked away.

By the time he dared to look back, it was a quarter of the way through the period, and the heat of the room must’ve been getting to Eddie, his eyelids fluttering as he tried not to doze.

And now Steve’s stuck with a teacher who’s clearly immune to every pointed look he shoots his way. He gets to the point where he’s glaring daggers at the dude—seriously, where does he get off, keeping the window closed just to prove some bullshit point about authority?

Every so often, Steve finds himself catching a paper airplane—what are they, five?—that had been heading for Eddie’s face, made by some meathead junior. Steve either swats them away or, if he’s feeling particularly pissy, crumples them up with one hand, throws them back at the junior’s head.

Eddie’s repositioned his elbow so it’s no longer in danger of slipping off the desk—eyes totally closed now, like he’s accepted defeat.

Steve is too late to catch the next paper airplane as it hits the side of Eddie’s head, and when Eddie stirs, blinking blearily at him, he says, defensively, “It wasn’t me.”

“Relax, Harrington,” Eddie says, yawning, “I know.” He unfolds the paper airplane with a tut. “No structural integrity to this thing at all. You’d give me quality.”

Steve doesn’t think of a barbed comment to reply with, because Eddie starts refolding the paper and uses it as a fan—and it’s not even for a bit or anything; Steve can tell that he’s just genuinely suffering.

Movement draws his eyes to the front of the room; he watches as the teacher makes his way to the door and leaves.

“Thank God he’s gone,” Steve mutters. He stands and lifts up the window as far as it will go, hears Eddie’s quiet sigh of relief as the fresh air comes in.

Steve glances over at the door; the paper airplane-throwing junior has gathered a little group, and it looks like they’ve locked the teacher out. There’s no footsteps or furious knocking yet, so Steve figures he’s got a bit of time.

He jumps up onto the window sill to better enjoy the breeze, stretching his legs and idly looking outside.

He just catches Eddie scoffing, the little aside he makes: “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Steve turns his head to him. “What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Just… you,” he says.

And it’s said with a kind of reluctant fondness, almost like they’re friends—which is bizarre, Steve thinks, since this is definitely the longest conversation they’ve ever had.

But maybe the approaching summer break has Eddie all sentimental.

“What about me, Munson?”

Eddie gestures at him, as if to say uh, everything, but it somehow doesn’t come across as an insult.

“Just… the way you do things sometimes. Like you’re in a goddamn movie.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just sitting. Anyone could do this.”

“Nah, Harrington. It’s all in the execution, y’know?”

Steve snorts. “Bull.”

“And not all of us have the hair for it.”

Steve tilts his head, drawls, “Oh, I dunno.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh like he’s been taken by surprise.

Steve turns back to the window. It’s not all that great a view, really, the sun only highlighting the dried unkempt grass around the track. Still, there’s an undefinable something to it that gives Steve pause.

Maybe it’s because graduation is right around the corner. Even just walking down the school corridors feels like a series of goodbyes.

“Hey, Harrington. You heard of mise-en-scène?”

And Steve finds himself grinning at the French accent Eddie slips into.

“Bless you,” he says, just to be annoying, though he has heard of it, remembers it from when they looked at some plays in English. Then overheard it, really, while the aspiring film students fretted over their college applications in the library, and he listened with a jealousy he didn’t care to analyse. “I’m seeing some movie shot stuff here, is all.”Steve looks over again, in time to see Eddie adopt an over-the top trailer voice. “The fallen King—”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“—looks down at what remains of his Kingdom, setting his sights on pastures new.”

A wistful edge creeps into Eddie’s voice, something separate from the theatrics—confirming Steve’s suspicions that he won’t be graduating this year, after all.

“Not exactly pastures new,” Steve says. “I, um, didn’t get into anywhere so.” He shrugs vaguely. “Gotta hold down a summer job and then… I don’t know. Not thought that far ahead yet.”

Eddie seems to consider him. “Nothing wrong with that, Harrington,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Steve replies. Because it’s true; he knows he’ll be far from the first high school graduate staying in Hawkins, working a minimum wage job all summer.

His parents had said as much. But then…

He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s the tone in which they say things rather than the things themselves that sets him on edge. That sometimes just the way they shut doors around him inexplicably prompts a feeling of nausea.

But they’re out of town for the whole summer—already left this morning, thank God. So he’s hardly going to get into all of that with Eddie Munson, of all people. Barely addresses it within himself, honestly.

“It’s just… not really what I pictured,” he says instead. “You know, like…” And maybe Eddie’s theatricality has made him a little bolder, because he looks out at the view, and slips into a brief understated impression with ease: “I'm shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world.”

When he turns back, Eddie’s lips twitch again, and this time the smile wins. “Well okay, George Bailey.”

Steve smiles back. Shrugs once more. “It’s for the best, really. Means I can keep an eye on—”

And he stops himself, realises he was about to say the kids.

Eddie’s eyes light up with interest. “Oh? So you’ve found someone worth staying for.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice when he adds, “S’awfully romantic of you, Harrington.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Not like that. But… yeah, you could say so. They’re all worth it.”

“Huh,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “What happened to you, Steve Harrington?”

Steve laughs. Shakes his head. “Life. And, uh, got a thump to the head.”

Eddie whistles lowly. “Damn. Maybe I should try that.” He glances down at his test, frowning.

“Hey, come on. Everyone loves a comeback kid.”

“Hmm. Not everyone.”

Eddie sighs and stuffs the test into his bag. As he does so, there’s a sudden pounding on the door, and Steve hears some of the students break out into whispers that are so loud they might as well be shouting: discussing their plan to pin the blame on Eddie for locking the teacher out.

Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s soon leaving high school behind that has Steve viewing all of this with a clarity he can’t remember having a few years ago. They’re just mean, he thinks, just plain mean for the sake of it. Jesus Christ, you don’t kick a guy while he’s down.

Eddie’s eyes dart over to the group. He’s clearly overheard them too, but he seems resigned to it, like he’s got no more fight left in him.

A girl unlocks the door, and the teacher storms inside, apoplectic with rage.

And before anyone can get a word in, Steve says, “It was me. I locked the door.”

He can feel Eddie staring at him. He leans more into his lounging on the window sill, pretends to check his nails.

The teacher’s eye twitches. “And may I ask, Harrington,” he seethes, “what would even possess you to—”

“Oh,” Steve says, faux brightly, “that’s easy. I don’t like you.”

Eddie’s hand subtly rises up to cover his mouth. Steve bites back a grin; he knows a hastily stifled laugh when he sees one.

“Out you go, Harrington,” the teacher says, pointing at the door.

Steve stands up, unbothered. He’ll just ditch, head home early before the dick’s had any time to step out into the corridor and scream at him. That mall’s almost done being built; he could finish filling in a job application for one of the stores there before the day’s out.

He makes sure the window’s pushed up so far that it’ll be more of a pain to try and close it compared to just letting it be.

Then he swings his bag over one shoulder, says in a little aside, “See you, Munson. You know, Class of ‘86 has a better ring to it anyway.”

“I’ll, uh, take your word for it, man,” Eddie says, and he sounds a little taken aback.

Steve glances over his shoulder just before the door shuts behind him, and he sees Eddie’s hand raised in an uncertain wave, like he can’t believe he’s even doing it.

And if you ask Steve, that’s a movie shot all of its own.

[fuctacles]

<< 3 | 4 | 5>>

The storm comes to a head late at night in the form of knocking at his front door. It's muffled, but the space is small enough for him to hear. Confused, he closes his book to have a peek at his porch. He doesn't see anyone, but the weird knocking continues, followed by scratching. That eases his worries immediately and he opens up the door without much thought. Sure enough, his dog friend is sitting on the porch.

"What are you doing here this late?" Eddie asks, looking around as if the owner could show up out of the darkness with pitchforks and accusations. He moves to the side. "Come in, I don't think Steve wants to see me anyway. Leave as much hair as you want." Eddie smiles dryly at the dog.

Without a word, well, obviously, it's a dog, but without even a look in his direction, the dog moves towards his bedroom.

"Came in for sleepy cuddles, huh?" Eddie chuckles to himself. He latches back the door and moves towards the kitchen to grab a snack for himself and the dog. He's putting an extra slice of ham on a plate when a voice startles him, coming in from the closed doors to his bedroom.

Unmistakably human. Unmistakably Steve's.

"Uh, Eddie? Can I borrow some pants?"

Eddie's brain reruns a whole passage on mimics from his monster manual. Then on faeries and demons and goes straight into thoughts of Demogorgons. His walkie is in the bedroom.

"Eddie?"

He does the next best thing and grabs the heaviest pan he can find.

"I can hear you man," Steve's voice comes with a sigh when he approaches the door. "I swear it's me and I'm sorry for scaring you, I'll explain everything in a minute." Eddie lowers the pan. "But I'd really like to be wearing pants while I do that."

The request is weird enough to settle his nerves and finally open the door. And sure enough, there is Steve Harrington, butt-naked save for the blanket he wrapped himself in. 

"What the fuck?" Eddie risks speaking up, his grip on the panhandle tightening. He glances towards his window. It's closed and all the trinkets on the sill below remain untouched. "Where's my dog?" he asks next, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Come on, man." Steve's fingers twist in the fabric of the blanket, and his face is a picture of pure distress. 

Eddie decides to show some mercy and, not taking his eyes off the intruder, inches his way to the dresser where he fishes out that one pair of hand-me-down sweats he's never fully grown into. They should be big enough to fit Harrington's ass. If that even was him.

He throws the pants at Steve, who fumbles to catch them while keeping the blanket covering him up. They stare at each other for a long while until Steve raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

"You gonna turn around or...?"

Eddie shakes his head stubbornly. He crosses his arms for good measure, despite the pan making it awkward and uncomfortable.

"I'm only half convinced you're not a mimic. Or a Vecna hallucination. So no, I'm not turning my back on you," he scoffs.

Steve's eyes widen at the mention of their last demonic opponent. He seems to understand Eddie's reservations a little bit better. 

"I swear I'm not," he says softer, looking guilty for scaring his friend even further than he already had. "I'm sorry for freaking you out," he continues, turning around himself. The blanket drops and Eddie never had another butt-ass naked man in his bedroom before. Golden boy Steve, too, among his band posters and trailer trash glory? A truly poetic sight. 

"I just had to come clean."

Steve bends over and the sweats don't get pulled up fast enough for Eddie to miss the twin moles on his right cheek.

He turns back around quickly, scratching his forearm self-consciously.

"Dustin's right, I'm just making it more difficult than it has to be."

Okay, so maybe involving Henderson didn't backfire as badly as Eddie feared. On the other hand, he had half-naked Steve Harrington, squirming uncomfortably at his place, so it was hard to tell. 

"Well, I'm here and listening, so you can go any moment now," Eddie prompts him, leaning against his desk. He observes Steve open and close his mouth hesitantly, and rolls his eyes. "Okay, kitchen," he commands, straightening up. When Steve doesn't move, he points at the door with his pan. "You go first, I don't trust that you're not gonna turn into something else."

Steve has made half a step when his eyes widen.

"You figured it out?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, pan twisting in his grip half-threateningly. 

"So you are a mimic?"

"I don't know what a mimic is!" Steve groans, frustrated. "I just turn into a dog."

At first Eddie's ready to scoff, maybe throw the pan at him, but as he studies Steve's expression, he frowns. Slowly, he connects the dots in his brain.

"You've been the dog all this time?"

Steve nods.

"That's why I never saw you? Because you were right there, turned into a fucking dog?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah," Steve admits, folding in on himself like he wanted to disappear.

Eddie puts the pan aside and starts pulling his rings off, one by one. Steve eyes him warily, and it takes him a moment to speak up.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

Eddie looks him calmly in the eye.

"I'm going to punch you now, and I don't want to cut you up."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble

[sidekick-hero]

I can't stop thinking of Eddie as Cyrano de Bergerac.

He's in the drama club, he's known for his way with words, his ability to bring whole worlds to life with them. Few people know that he also writes poetry, poems about love and loss, society and justice, whatever comes to his mind. Many of them are about a mysterious person with gold-flecked eyes and autumn hair, constellations on his skin, and the sun in his heart.

Eddie guards his notebook full of poems like a dragon guards his hoard of gold. And yet.

And yet Susie Bowers finds it where it fell out of his pocket when that asshole Tommy Hagan pushed him against the lockers. She reads it and realizes how devastatingly beautiful Eddie's words are.

It makes her think… think about her crush on Steve Harrington, the fallen king who is still the most eligible bachelor at Hawkins High. Especially since he refuses to just take girls home to fuck them. No, he wants to date. He wants to fall in love. It's catnip for everyone, but at the same time so frustrating because no girl has managed to catch his eye yet.

Maybe this little notebook is her ticket to a relationship with Steve Harrington.

She approaches Eddie and shows him the notebook, pulling it out of his reach as he attempts to grab it. She offers him a deal: she won't spread copies of all his cute little writings all over the school, exposing his deepest secrets for everyone to see and ridicule. In exchange, Eddie will help her sweet-talk Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees and writes love letters to the boy he's been in love with ever since he found him drunk and depressed on the side of the road after his girlfriend dumped him. He had taken him home, listened to him ramble on about what he had done wrong, why no one would want to love him, and then put Steve to bed and watched him sleep until morning to make sure he was okay.

He left before Steve woke up, and the next time they saw each other at school, Steve didn't even look at him. It had broken his heart and inspired most of his poems, because nothing inspires like heartbreak.

And now Eddie can tell Steve all the things he thinks and feels about him - just to make it seem like it's written by Susie.

It seems to work, because Steve replies to her letters. His replies are simpler, less lyrical, but just as earnest. His words are sweet, and he's funny and thoughtful.

He's everything Eddie knew he was going to be. And Susie couldn't care less, she just wants to go out with him, have him take her home, have everyone know that she's Steve Harrington's girlfriend.

They go out. After a dozen letters, he gives in and asks her out.

Eddie cries himself to sleep that night.

Someone knocks on his bedroom window. Confused and a bit nervous, because he doesn't have only friends in this town, far from it, he goes to open it.

And finds Steve Harrington standing right outside his window.

"What -"

"Did you mean them?" Steve asks and he can't tell from his tone what he's thinking.

"What?"

"Your letters, did you mean what you wrote or did you just write down what you thought I wanted to hear so I'd go out with Susie?"

His tone doesn't really change, but Eddie can see his eyes shining in the dim light coming from his bedroom. He looks upset, and Eddie wants to fix it, but he doesn't know what answer would do that.

So he chooses the truth. "Yes. I meant every single word I wrote in those letters."

"Then why didn't you send them under your own name?" When did Steve get so close? And why is the window sill digging into his stomach?

At Steve's question, Eddie can't help but laugh bitterly. "Did you look at me, Steve? I'm the town freak! A fuckup. Trailer trash. A small-time drug dealer who failed his senior year. Why would anybody - why would you want to get love letters from me?"

Steve nods, not saying a word as he turns and walks away. And okay, he deserves it, he guesses. Hanging his head in defeat, he shuffles away from the window and face plants on his bed, letting fresh tears fall from his eyes.

Until there's another knock, this time at his front door.

He's out of bed in record time, almost breaking his neck in his haste to get to the door. It can't be - it's impossible that this is -

Steve is standing on his front porch, looking devastatingly handsome in his light-washed Levi's and red sweater. His date outfit.

He walks up to him before Eddie can say anything and cups his cheek.

"I've been looking at you, Eddie. All I've done since the night you brought me home and listened to me and took care of me, I've been looking at you. Looking and waiting. Hoping. Wanting you to give me a sign, any sign, that it wasn't just chivalry that made you do this, but the fact that you cared. About me. But you never did."

"Steve," Eddie whispers, but Steve isn't finished.

"And then I get these letters, and all the words, they sound like you. I couldn't be sure, not until I read the line, 'You deserve someone who wants to love you, all of you, the good and the bad and everything in between. I want to be that person. I want to love you.' You're the only one I've ever said that to. I knew it had to be you."

"But why? Why go out with Susie?"

"Because I had to be absolutely sure that it wasn't Susie. And after ten minutes with her, I was. I drove around until I couldn't… I had to talk to you. To see if you mean it. If you want to love me."

Eddie kisses him.

There's nothing else on his mind but the need to finally kiss the boy he's been in love with for almost a year.

Steve kisses him back, soft, tender, then deeper, dirtier.

When they pull apart, both gasping, Eddie leans in closer because his next words are meant for him and Steve and no one else.

"I want to love you long after my body crumbles to dust and my soul finds yours in the afterlife. I want to love you as the ocean does the moon, forever bound, forever following its call, until the end of time."

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.7K] a little oneshot looking into the relationship that follows from ISITTGG. just smut, my dudes 18+

Steve Harrington was throwing gummy bears at your bedroom window. 

It was barely dusk, the sun just setting, that pretty kind of twilight light settling over the town in a blue-pink glow. The grass below your window was still too long, flowers still in bloom despite the way summer was leaving and September had begun. It smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, the air outside was clean like chlorine, like freshly cut grass and the crisp like the beginning of fall. It wasn't as warm as it had been, but when you braced your hand on the sill and looked down to the space between your house and the Harrington’s, your boyfriend was standing there in just a short sleeved t-shirt. 

His jeans had a rip in the knee and his hair was wild, no doubt from driving around town with the car windows rolled right down, Eddie and Jonathan fighting over riding shotgun and the radio station. His cheeks were flushed, like he’d been going too fast, like he’d seen Chief Hopper’s flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror, laughed and gave him a chase.

Or maybe, just maybe, he’d been too eager to get back to you. 

He grinned at the sight of you, head tilted back, the crawling ivy that trailed over the bricks of his house brushing his hair. He had more freckles than ever from the summer passed, a dust of them over his nose, the leftover line from a scratch on his right brow from when Eddie dared him to land an ollie after a keg party.

Steve couldn’t skateboard.

“There she is,” the boy called out. He leaned against the wall, ivy and honeysuckle staining his white t-shirt. “Did you get prettier?”

You snorted, an unattractive noise that only made Steve grin wider. You leaned out the window a little further, pyjama shirt getting pulled by the wind. “You saw me four hours ago, Harrington.”

Steve squinted up at you, a half smile, a half shrug, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek. He looked like trouble, some kind of James Dean daydream. “Point still stands, princess. You gonna let me in?”

You rolled your eyes like it was all too much effort, even though your heart was bursting against your ribcage and the thought of Steve sneaking in through the garden gate to see you, standing in wait at your front door so he could slip up the stairs behind you. He was leaning against the bricks when you met him round the front, cheeks hot when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to one, ‘cause your parents were in the kitchen making pasta and drinking red wine, greeting the boy warmly and throwing half serious threats up the staircase about keeping your bedroom door open.

You ignored them, closing it behind Steve as he wandered into your room, throwing himself onto your bed like he always did. The window was still open, curtains catching in the breeze, the soft static of your record player singing something he didn’t recognise. You watched the boy stretch out across your sheets, sneakers toed off over the edge and hitting the floor with a thud as he grinned at you. Steve had been yours for a month now, best friends for a decade longer but the sight of him against your pillows still made your inside somersault. It was a giddy feeling, when he coaxed you closer, sitting up so you could stand between his legs, denim jeans scratching at the outside of your bare thighs and he hummed when you wound your arms around his shoulders, fingertips playing with the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck. His hands found the backs of your legs, the soft skin just under the curve of your ass and he nosed at your sternum, grinning when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all night,” he murmured softly, lips grazing the cotton of your sleep shirt - his shirt. “Too soft, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the kind that made your feature scrunch up, cheeks warm and aching with that new kind of happiness that you hoped would never get old. “The softest,” you declared. “You were supposed to be having fun with the guys.”

Steve craned his neck back, face tilted up to you and the last of the sunlight that came through the corner of the window. It turned one eye lighter than the other, honey and whisky, his lashes casting shadows over one sunset coloured cheek. “I did, until Eddie tried to start a fight with Carver. Again.” His fingers pinched softly at the fat of your ass, making you squeak. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a kiss, huh?”

You pulled at his hair in retaliation, smirking when he only grunted in response. You ducked down a little to meet him, nose bumping his, loving the way his eyes found your lips, focused on your mouth. “He can ask nicely, for a start.”

You shrieked when you were hauled against the boy, laughter caught in your throat as Steve threw himself and you back onto the mattress, both of you landing clumsily amongst the pillows, on top of each other. He had you pinned before you could get your bearings, legs on either side of your hips as he grinned down at you victorious. He leaned in, crowding you, the smell of his cologne, smoke that you hoped was Eddie’s and not his, all around you. He was part of you now. Steve clung to your bed, he stayed in your sheets, left a part of himself behind on your pillows.

“Please, princess,” he whispered against your lips.

It was easy to give in, easier than trying to pretend you wouldn’t have kissed him without politeness. It was a sticky, soft thing. The sweetest kind of kiss, the kind that came from being so happy that you were finally able to put your lips to his. He tasted like vanilla, like cherry coke and Steve. It was the easiest thing in the world to let him tug you into him , his smile pressed against your own mouth, as he hummed, falling onto the mattress again and pulling you onto his lap. 

You petted at his hair, pushing the mess of it away from his forehead so you could sit some kisses there too, grinning when he squeezed at your waist, the soft of your hips. “You hungry?” You asked quietly, enjoying the warmth of him underneath you, like he’d brought the sun home with him. “Have you had food?”

Steve shook his head, hair brushing your cheek as he tried to tuck his face into the crook of your neck, nosing at the collar of your shirt so he could kiss at your throat. “Had some cereal, at like, ten,” he mumbled. 

“Steven,” you admonished, “s’almost nine at night.”

“Mmm, call me that again, s’hot,” Steve teased. 

You shoved at the boy’s shoulder, rolling your eyes and hiding your smile even though Steve was grinning. You eased off him, lying next to him on the bed instead. Your gaze met his, so close you could count those new freckles. “I could make you somethin’. Grilled cheese? You gotta eat, babe.”

It was lighthearted the way Steve pulled one of your legs over his hip, palm climbing up your bare thigh, so big his fingers were curling round to the inside, close to grazing your cunt. He kissed a line over your jaw, nuzzling into the crook of your neck until you squirmed. His voice was salacious, only half joking when he said:

“Oh my god,” he groaned dramatically. “That sounds better than head right now.”

It wasn’t out of the blue, that kind of talk, not really. Your sex life with Steve was still new, experimental in the best way. It had been almost five weeks of learning about each other in a way that you’d never gotten to before, working out how the other liked to be kissed, touched, teased. There’d been hurried make outs in the back of his car, on your living room sofa before your parents came home, quick touches and messy grinding on his bed before you had to return to your own. 

And when the time allowed it, when Steve got you to himself for hours on end, he kissed you until your jaw ached, until his lips were as pink as yours, working you up with his fingers until he could slide his cock inside of you and press you into the mattress. It was all new, shiny and glittery, warm bodies in the beds you used to make pillow forts out of, his cologne on your sheets, your perfume on his sweaters you stole. You shared bottles of sunscreen, swam in the backyard pools when the day turned to night and it felt like you were floating between stars, leftover barbeque smoke in the air as your legs touched Steve’s under the water.

It was a summer of sex and chlorine on skin, taking late night drives to the seven eleven in the next town over, icee’s for dinner, throwing gummy worms into the boy’s open mouth until he pulled you into his back seat and you could taste the sugar on his tongue. Steve was yours now, and god, your boy was summer incarnate.

But he hadn’t done that. Not yet.

You squirmed, feeling that too hot flush creeping up over your chest and neck. You rolled to the side, lying on your back so you could squint at the ceiling and try to work out how to make a joke out of it. You laughed, a little weakly, half shrugging and refusing to meet his gaze when the boy leaned up on his elbow to look down at you.

“I, uh, I wouldn’t know.”

Steve stared at you, one corner of his lips quirking up like he thought you were telling him a joke. When you didn’t laugh, he wrinkled his brow. “What?”

You didn’t feel embarrassed per say, in fact, you were reminded of a time - years and years ago - when you and the boy were trapped in a cupboard, standing too close to each other in the dark as you whispered about the people you’d kissed, the things you’d been to shy to do.

“What?” you shrugged, unaffected by Steve's bewildered stare. “So no one’s gone down on me, it’s not a big deal.” You tried hard not to sound defensive but Steve must’ve picked up on it anyway. 

“No, no,” Steve reassured, leaning in closer to dot a kiss to your cheek, another on your forehead for extra reassurance. “It’s not a big deal at all, babe. I just, I just thought - I assumed - you know. An ex would’ve offered, or something.”

You took the hem of the boy’s shirt in between your fingers for something to do, your gaze lowered when you shrugged again. “I mean, I don’t think a girl’s pleasure was at the forefront of most seventeen year old boys minds - or eighteen - and then, I don’t know, Chris--”

Steve made a face at the mention of the other boy.

“--he tried once, kind of, I think and, I guess it was okay? He didn’t really do it for long? But maybe I just took--”

“Did you come?”

You snorted, unable to help it and Steve grinned. Any chance to one up Chris Maxwell, no matter how long it had been since he’d had to watch you go on dates with him, Steve would take happily. “No, I didn’t get the chance to enjoy myself. It felt weird, and honestly, he was too busy trying to get a condom out at the same time.”

“What an asshole,” Steve groaned and he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, your jaw. 

“You’ve always thought he was an asshole, Steven.”

“Point still stands,” Steve scoffed and he pulled back, staring down at you with a sudden intensity. He worked his way between your thighs. “You trust me, right?”

You nodded. Of course you trusted Steve. You’d know him longer than you hadn’t. He’d already seen you naked, shit, he’d been inside of you. But there was something so incredibly new about the way he was lying between your legs, your knees by his shoulders as he pressed what was supposed to be a calming kiss to the inside of one. Instead, your heart jumped. It rattled inside of your ribcage, threatening to break the bones there. 

“Can I try?”

You were speechless, blinking at the boy as you tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his mouth on a new part of you. His tongue, his lips, kissing over your cunt. You were suddenly burning. 

“You don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, babe,” Steve murmured, sensing your hesitation. “If you don’t like it, we can stop.” Another kiss, this time a little higher in the inside of your thigh. “But I promise I’ll try to make you feel real good.”

“I know,” you whispered, hands fisting your sheets in anticipation. “I just— you wanna do this, right? Like this isn’t just ‘cause no one’s ever done it to me properly before?” You hated how unsure you sounded and you felt yourself go hot when Steve raised his brows at you. 

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Steve laughed, not meanly, not at you. He moved closer, kissing a line up the inside of your leg until his shoulders were pressed underneath your thighs and god— his face was so close to the soft cotton of your pyjama shorts. “Babe. Baby, you’ve no idea how much I wanna do this. Just, relax for me, yeah?”

You looked down at Steve as he shuffled between your spread legs, curling his arms around the tops of your thighs so he could pull them apart a little further, making more room for himself. He looked up, his hair falling over his forehead, into his brown eyes. “Ready?”

You nodded, whispering a small, shy, excited ‘yeah,’ before Steve grinned up at you. You let yourself fall back onto the mattress. Eyes on the ceiling, body electric.  

You expected your sleep shorts to be rolled down your hips, over your legs and thrown to the floor. But instead, Steve leaned in to kiss over them, the thin cotton not doing much to dull the feel of his mouth over your cunt. You jumped, gasping, head lifting back up and off of the bed to see Steve smile, his pink, full lips pushed into a pout as he kissed over your covered folds. He hummed, nose pushed to you in a way that made the fabric cling to you, damp seeping through already. 

“Good?” Steve asked quietly, hiding his smile at your soft noises of agreement. “You like that?”

It was maddening, the soft lilt of his voice, teasing, gentle, earnest all at once. You wanted to cry out when he let his tongue drag over you, sleep shorts getting more and more wet as they stuck to the lines of you, your cunt almost visible through the damp fabric. Steve pushed his thumbs into the crease of your thighs, soothed you back down a little as he kissed your knee. “Your parents are downstairs, babe, you gotta keep quiet, yeah?”

His words made you spin, too dizzy to comprehend that you did actually need to shut the fuck up. But it hadn’t felt like this when Chris had made an attempt, a thirty second appearance between your thighs in the back of his car before he got too impatient and demanded you ride him. So you whined a little desperately and gasped at Steve’s touch, wondering when your boyfriend was going to put you out of your misery and take your shorts off. 

But Steve ducked back down to kiss over you again, proper, open mouthed kissed against the folds of your pussy, his tongue sneaking out every now and then to bump against your covered clit and you were wriggling in his hands, head thrown back, vision hazy because you forgot to blink, lips parted in a quiet moan. You felt fingers at the band of your shorts then, warm and sure and you lifted your bum up in anticipation. But instead of being pulled down your legs, Steve tugged up. 

Cheeks hot with a strange type of embarrassment, you gasped out, realising that the thin cotton of your tiny shorts were now tucked between your folds, a firm pressure on your clit that had you reeling. You couldn’t fathom what you must’ve looked like, but when you gazed back down at Steve, glassy eyed and panting, Steve was staring at your pussy like a man starved. 

His own eyes were heavy lidded, dark and heated, his lips parting at the sight of you. Steve pulled up again, just slightly, groaning low when the fabric slipped further between your folds. He can see the outline of everything, the soaked patch that’s clinging to your entrance, the bump of your clit under pink cotton. He reaches out to trace it with a fingertip, swearing when you jerk forward, wanting more. He pulls you into him, hands grabbing at your thighs so he can push his face back between them and he licks a flat, slow stripe over your cunt. 

You can’t help but arch up, biting down on the meat of one of your hands while the other finds Steve’s hair, fingers twining through the strands and pulling, hard. The boy moans at that, something you already knew he liked too much but it sends his own hips rocking into the bed, chasing any friction he can get, letting you know he’s enjoying this as much as you are. And once your underwear is soaked through, you’re fuzzy, feeling drunk and ready to beg for him to take them off but Steve is one step ahead of you, tapping your ass so you’ll plant your feet on the mattress and lift your hips for him. 

You do it immediately, muffling a whine as he has to peel your wet underwear from between your folds, dragging them down your legs before settling back between them, kissing over the soft of your stomach as he pushes the hem of your too big shirt up your ribs. “Let me see you, princess, lemme see those pretty tits.”

The breeze from the evening came through the still open window but you were more than sure the goosebumps on your skin came from Steve’s words, his rough, wrecked sounding voice. You obeyed, pulling the fabric of your shirt up until it rested under your chin. “Steve, please, I really need—”

Another kiss, just below your belly button, another, climbing up your ribcage and the boy hushed you. “S’alright, I know, I know.” He swiped two fingers through you, feeling how warm and slick you were for him. “Shit, baby, wanna really feel me, yeah?”

You nodded, a furious movement that made Steve grin. You settled back on your elbows this time, legs open for the boy, eager to watch. “Please, yeah. Fuck, it’s— Steve, please.”

Steve didn’t hesitate, pressing himself down onto the mattress as he spread you with two thumbs, groaning at the way you glistened in the last of the lowlight, your bedroom turning seven shades of blue as evening rolled in. He could hear sprinklers turn on outside, the faint hum of your parents television from downstairs, the way your breathing picked up when he blew over your clit, pink and swollen for him and his touch. 

“So pretty, baby,” he praised, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Don’t tell you that enough, huh?”

You scrunched your face at the praise, cheeks burning, your bare chest rising and falling faster and faster and faster. “You tell me that all the time.”

Steve laughed softly, ducking his head down to kiss you, a chaste peck in the dirtiest of ways, lips sliding over your cunt, still spread for him. You gasped, head falling back for a second, clenching down on nothing and you knew Steve would see, you knew Steve was watching. You heard him exhale roughly. 

“Talkin’ about her, princess.” Steve hummed, licked over his lips to chase your taste and dipped down again to drag his tongue oh so fucking slowly from your entrance to your clit. “Yeah? Talkin’ about how pretty this pussy is.”

The compliment made you pull Steve’s hair harder, hips wiggling as you groaned, eyes falling shut when the boy huffed out a soft laugh and pulled you closer, nose bumping against your clit as he pressed his tongue into you, slick, wet noises filling the room and making your breath hitch. Up and down, up and down, up and down, Steve licked you like a popsicle, humming when your hips twitched, pushing his lips around your clit and sucking gently, teasing it with the tip of his tongue before he went back to kissing all you all over. 

It was messy, wet, Steve’s lips and chin shining with you, his eyes fluttering shut every time he dragged his tongue through your folds, his hips rocking down into the mattress as he tried to ease the pressure in his jeans. He was harder than he’d ever been. 

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice broken and cracking at the pleasure. “Steve, please, I’m so close.”  

The boy murmured softly against your skin, a thing you were sure was supposed to soothe you but you just arched against his mouth instead. He pulled back, just slightly, smiling when you cried out, hushing you with wide eyes. “Princess, hey, hey, baby,” he kissed the crease of your thigh, licked the wet there that made your skin shine, growling at the taste. “You gotta stay quiet, yeah? Keep quiet baby and I’ll make you come, I promise.”

You nodded, doe eyed as you stared down your body at him, barely keeping yourself up on your elbows, legs quivering as Steve pushed them further apart. “Lie back for me, yeah? That’s it, good girl. M’gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, princess, tell me what you need.”

Steve sounded reverent, kissing over your stomach and the small thatch of curls before licking into your folds again, pressing his lips to your clit. “Fingers,” you gasped out, clenching your comforter in each hand. Your knuckles were white. “Please, fingers please.”

Steve didn’t even respond with words, he just sucked his middle and pointer into his mouth and pushed them into you, groaning at how easy they slid in. The feeling of being so suddenly full made your head fall back, huffs of air escaping from your lips and making the ceiling fuzzy, it was glittering. The stars didn’t seem to stay outside anymore. 

“Pull your legs up, baby, c’mon, open up for me,” Steve rasped, pushing your legs up with his shoulders until you got the hint and pressed your knees to your chest, letting them fall open even further until you were sure you were going to die from the way you were so exposed for him. 

But Steve whined, a needy desperate noise and you felt the mattress dip and lift as he jumped himself into the bed, chasing his own release as he gave you yours. “Oh, good girl, baby, that’s so good. That’s it, yeah? Can get my fingers nice ‘n’ deep, huh?” He proved his point by rubbing the tips of his digits in small circles, pressing into the spot you could never reach. 

It made your legs shake, toes curling and you were able to gasp out, “mouth, use your mouth, please,” just as you felt yourself getting pulled into the mattress, a hook in your tummy that was getting warmer and heavier, a buzzing in your ears like white static and Steve’s tongue was almost lazy as it dragged over you clit, soft and slow and languid. You felt every bit of it, cunt fluttering around the base of his fingers, sucking him in until Steve swore into you, lips parting around your pussy in a messy, wet kiss and he sucked hard when your back arched, legs falling, feet hitting the mattress, ass lifting up and into his face. You pushed yourself against his mouth, uninhibited, eyes squeezed shut and your hands fumbling for a pillow, an old stuffed teddy, anything to bite into to stifle your cries. 

“Shit, princess, so fuckin’ hot, Christ, that’s it,” Steve groaned, pupils blow wide as he stared up at you. “Touch those tits for me, baby, play w’them, yeah.”

The boy’s hands grabbed at your thighs as you obeyed, fingertips biting into the soft skin, pulling you into him, groaning almost too loud when you moved against his tongue, hips rolling as you came. You felt it everywhere, a slow roll into an orgasm that shattered, sending you reeling, unwound, undone. There was glitter behind your eyelids, stars, a new planet. 

You bit down into the corner of your cushion, soft, muffled noises caught between your teeth and you felt something wet slip from one eye, a tear that rolled over your cheek and onto the baby blue pillow case. You twitched, whining as you tried to pull away, overstimulated, easing yourself back onto the bed and trying to catch your breath. 

Steve ran his wide hands over your thighs, up and down, up and down, one pressing to the soft of your tummy as he soothed you. “Shh, princess, I know.” He kissed over your clit, cooing when you jerked underneath him. “Sorry, sorry, s’okay, just lemme—” he cut himself off to lick over you, soft, slow drags of his tongue that avoided that overly sensitive bump at the top of your cunt. 

You sighed prettily, soft moans as your eyes closed again, sucking in deep breaths as Steve cleaned you up, licking away everything you gave him, kissing sweetly over your folds before easing your legs from his shoulders. You lay spent, eyes closed and cheeks warm as the boy crawled his way back over you, dotting kisses over your ribs, the curve of your breast, grinning as you whined when he grazed his teeth over a nipple. You clung to Steve as he burrowed into you, nosing at your neck and humming, letting you grab at his hair and drag his mouth to yours. 

This kiss was as  languid and hot as it was when he kissed you elsewhere, his tongue licking over yours, the taste of yourself making you whine. You could feel Steve smiling, lips still pressed to yours, his nose against your cheek. He leaned back, just slightly, one hand pushing your hair from your damp forehead, grinning wide at the sight of your glassy eyes. 

“You okay?” He asked softly, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. 

You mumbled something Steve couldn't make out and clung a little tighter, pulling the boy down until he was pressed against your chest and you could hide your face in his neck.  

“That good?” Steve tried to tease but he couldn’t help but sound sincere, you were still trembling, doing your best to burrow into him. 

“Insane,” you said into the cotton of his shirt, lips pressed to his shoulder. “Stupid good, yeah. Fuck.” You were whimpering a little, voice soft and half asleep sounding and it made Steve beam. You wriggled against him, the breeze from the window seeming cooler now that Steve wasn’t working you up and your thigh brushed against a damp patch against his crotch. “Did you come?”

There was no judgement behind your answer, just quiet awe. You smiled when Steve scoffed, nodding as he leaned in to peck at your lips again. “Uh, ‘course I did. How could I not? You were grinding all over me like some kinda wet dream, princess shit—”

“Steve,” you whined, a little embarrassed as the high wore off, cheeks too hot when Steve laughed. You crawled over him, thighs straddling his lap. Your shirt - Steve’s shirt - fell back down, pooling your waist and covering you back up. Steve pouted, hands diving underneath anyway, fingers spanning over your thighs. You raised a brow. “You still hungry?”

Steve smirked, squeezing at your legs, revelling in the warmth he could still feel from between them. “Oh, she’s got jokes now, huh?”

[luveline]

Can I request an Eddie and roan story where something happens and Eddie is quite vulnerable and upset and roan finds him at the kitchen table so she goes and gets reader to help cheer him up. Hurt comfort

ty for requesting ♡ eddie and roan fem!reader, 1.7k

cw grief

It's a bad idea, but Eddie opens the photo frame on the sill. He moves the small metal holdings aside, peeling away the velvet back to reveal the hidden photograph waiting beneath.

His hands are trembling as he picks it up. The edges are soft but the photo itself is pristine, a perfect polaroid taken from her waist height, angled up as she smiled down. 

Eddie puts it back. Closes the frame, sets the photograph right side up on the sill next to your vase. His hands shake as he stuffs them in his pockets, a hard lump aching in his throat. I shouldn't have looked, he thinks to himself, sitting down at the dining table freshly cleared after dinner. 

He couldn't not look. As he washed the dishes after dinner, he'd found his gaze drifting. The photo framed is a simple close up of Roan at her last birthday, her face painted pink, purple, and white in the shape of a butterfly with silver glitter accents. The secret photograph is stupid to keep secret, he should put in pride of place, he should be a fucking man about it—

If you could hear his thoughts you'd frown. Maybe do that silly sweet thing with your hand on his cheek and your soft eyes imploring as they look into his. God, Eddie would give you anything you asked for when you look at him like that. But he doesn't tell you about the photograph, how could he? It's his. It's the last bit of her. 

He looks down at the wooden grain of the dining room table. Without thinking, he springs to his feet, removes the frames backing, and takes the photograph of his mom into his hand a second time. 

She looks so young. Younger than Eddie is now. He must have been a really little kid when he took the photo, old enough to have worked the camera but young enough that he can't remember the moment. Can't remember what she said, what she was laughing about, how that sounded. He can't remember her smell. 

How could I forget that? he thinks, stricken. 

Eddie ducks his head. He drops back into his chair at the table, pinching the bridge of his nose between a calloused index finger and a softer thumb. Don't, he thinks desperately, even as his thoughts race to a more cruel place. I don't remember her. 

She's beautiful in the photo. Willowy and smiling, crouching ever so slightly with a hand braced on her knee. Her lips are curved up a touch and parted with a laugh, but Eddie theories now that she wasn't laughing. Maybe she was telling him something he doesn't remember anymore. Maybe she was telling him that she loved him— 

"Dad?" 

Eddie hides the photograph without thinking. "Yeah?" 

His voice cracks. Roan stares at him with wide eyes, brown as his own but with longer lashes. She's quicker to smile than he was at her age, though none of that lightness shines at present. 

"I'll get Y/N," she says hurriedly, spinning on her socked heel and hurtling back the way she came. 

"Ro!" he says, clearing his throat. "Fuck. Fuck." He wipes at his wet eyes. Fucking great. 

"Y/N!" he hears Roan shout, her panic a raw thing. He can see the look on your face a floor away. "You have to– we have to go help dad!" 

There's a lapse in shouting. Eddie would put the photograph away, wipe his eyes, and run to set things straight if he could; you don't deal with abrupt circumstances well and he hates to think of how your heart is racing, but he can't stop crying. 

Your footsteps sound and stop at the kitchen doorway. 

"Eds. You okay?" you ask. 

"I'm fine, I'm," —he starts to laugh, but the laugh turns into crying, everything a mess— "okay. Tell Roan it's okay." 

"Okay. Two seconds." Eddie covers his face, trying desperately to get a handle on things as you speak in hushed tones. "It's okay, Ro, alright? How about I put some TV on for you? Would that be good?" 

"I want to stay," she whispers. 

You pause. Eddie loses bits of time and conversation, wiping madly at his eyes, his head heavy as a bowling ball and aching as though it's been hit by one. Roan must agree to watch TV or at the least pretend to, because you return alone, pushing the table away from him to stand skewiff by his legs.

Eddie feels like he's choking on air. "Sorry." 

"Eddie, what's happening, honey?" You touch his shoulder tentatively. "What's wrong?" 

He tries to tell you and it hurts worse. Grief is super weird, it always has been (when it wasn't solely and unsympathetically devastating), and Eddie's grief tends to hide away for long periods of time. Like a brewing storm, pressure builds, and builds, and he knew looking at her photo wouldn't end well but she was just so pretty.

He presses his forehead to balled fists. 

You sigh like he's hurt you, curling protectively over his hunched back. Your cheek to a heaving shoulder, you rub at his tensed spine with your palm spread. "It's okay," you whisper, hugging him gently. "Sweetheart, it's okay. You have to tell me what's wrong so I can fix it." 

"You can't," he says, his voice rough as gravel. 

You kiss his shoulder. 

A handful of seconds and you pull back to look him in the eye. "Let me try?" 

He shakes his head softly, reaching into his lap. He's careful to dry his hands before he picks up his mother's photo, placing it with care on the table. You follow his movements, your lips twitching with understanding as you realise what it is. "That's your mom."

"Yeah, she…" 

"I've never seen this one." 

Eddie doesn't have many, but he has a few that he treasures. One framed on the living room mantle, four or five kept in safe keeping with Wayne. You nudge the corner of the polaroid to shield it from the glare of the kitchen fluorescents. 

"She looks really young." 

"She was younger than we are now. She didn't… it couldn't have been five years before she…" 

You don't condescend, your empathy palpable as you murmur, "Aw, Eddie. I'm so sorry. It's not fair." 

His eyes burn. His nose tickles. He closes his eyes and shoves the brunt of his palm against his socket. "I can't remember what she was trying to say. What kind of son am I?" 

"No, no," you crouch down and place your hands on his thighs, "what do you mean? Is that why you're upset? Babe, I can't remember things you said to me last night, you know that? That's not how memory works." 

"But it was important. I took the photo, I should remember." 

"You were young… I'm sorry, I wish you could remember, but," —you hold the photo up carefully— "with a smile like that, it's not hard to guess, right?" Your voice is smooth and soft as angora silk, though it pills as you continue, "I bet she's just telling you that you're doing a good job. Same way you say it to Ro. You must've gotten it from somewhere." 

A half sob shudders out of him. "I hope so." 

You pat his thigh. "You gonna be okay?" you ask, eyebrows pinched. 

He leans into the chair, the armrests groaning as he tries to breathe. His breath hisses from between his teeth. "Shit, sorry. I'm sorry. I'm alright, just, sometimes I remember she's gone and I realise I lost another little part of her and–" 

"It's okay." You stroke a strand of hair from his face. He relaxes at the simplicity of it, a routine gesture. "She's not lost, Eddie. You're not losing her. Yeah? That's not how it works. She's your mom forever." 

"I guess you never stop wanting your mom, huh?" he asks. His throat burns like nothing he's ever felt. 

"I guess not." 

Eddie's tears peter out eventually, aided by the way you hold his hands as though they're delicately made and the constant steadiness of your presence, your head dipping down intermittently to press kisses to the side of his thumb. He can't shake the feeling of grief and he doubts that he'll feel much better tonight, but the need to cry dissipates. He's drained suddenly, like he's held his breath too long, every inhale an ache. 

Roan comes to investigate the quiet. She tiptoes in, her lips parted in confusion, but her puzzlement doesn't stop her from snaking between his legs and your arms to sit in your lap. He's scared her, he knows, and he can't blame her for the way she wraps her arms around your stomach. Like he said: you never stop wanting your mom. 

Roan twists her neck to look at him. You plant a kiss behind her ear. 

"Are you okay, dad?" she asks. 

"I'm okay." 

"Why were you crying?" 

"I don't know, Ro. I guess I was hurting." 

"Did you cut yourself on the sharp knife?" she asks worriedly. 

Eddie chucks her under the chin. "Not that kind of hurt, babe." 

She frowns as though he's told her off and buries her face in his knees. Eddie folds down onto her like a cheap tent in a hurricane, craving the comfort of his little girl, knowing she's here, and that she's not going anywhere. "Is it okay if I squeeze you?" he asks. 

"Yeah, dad. But only this time. You squeezed me too hard last time." She huffs, chewing over her words even as she hugs her father back ferociously. "You're rough." 

"I said sorry already," he says lightly. His eyes scrunch closed. He has to try hard not to burst into a second round of tears as he smells her hair. "I'm really sorry, I thought you liked being squeezed." 

"I don't mind if it's to make you feel better." 

You laugh through your nose. Eddie clings. "Thank you." He's saying it to you, too. He really hopes that you know that. "I feel way, way better already."