#ex Eddie Munson

[eddiesguitarskills]

When We Were Young

part 2

Older Ex Eddie Munson x reader

Other parts 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Intro: 5 years have past since you packed up and left behind Hawkins. Well not all of it, as the people you met there are still a huge part of your life. But it's been 5 years since you had set a foot in the small town, 5 years since you left him. And now after all that time you were back.

Warning: angst, language, mentions of suicide, miscarriages, self harm, mental health Arguments. Mentions of break ups. Female identity reader. Panic attacks. Y/n used

Bold parts are flashbacks

Word count: 2.8k

A/n: please only read if you are in a good place, I wouldn't want this story to trigger or hurt anyone. I’m dyslexic so if some bits don’t make sense I’m sorry. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next part. Sorry it took me so long to write this

You were so anxious and aggregated you needed something to do with your hands. There were pots and pans ready to be loaded into the dishwasher. So instead you scrubbed them in the sink. You were rigorous with it making things shine that hadn’t in a while. You could hear mutters in the other room, but all you could hear was him. He had haunted your dreams for years and now he was here. You scrubbed and hummed hoping to block out any sounds. The noise felt worse than nails on a chalkboard.

He couldn’t believe were humming, as it all was merry. As if Eddie's world wasn’t crumbling right in front of him. He moved his eyes towards the kitchen glaring, starting to walk towards the room. Anger moved his body. Steve put a hand on his chest stopping him from “calm down”. Eddie shoves him off, getting closer to the man. “Calm down?!” There is a knock on the door, which is ignored by the men at the bottom of the stairs in a stare-down.

Eddie had barely managed to survive the upside down. Even with Hopper helping to legally clear his name. He was the same, life wasn't the same. He tried his best to appreciate everything that he had, new friends, his uncle, and you, but whenever he heard the mutter of the townsfolk, he sometimes wondered if it would have been better to be dead. He was struggling big time with PTSD but he didn't know that. And he definitely wasn't going to burden you with his problems. He felt so alone, that no one would understand what he was going through. Not that he gave anyone a chance to understand. You had noticed he was down so you suggested his favourite horror film. This made him snap, he shouted at you, “How dumb can you be! Why would I want to watch that!?”. Not bothering to explain why he didn't want to watch it. Not telling you he was scared that it would make the thoughts of Chrissy’s bones breaking worse.

There’s another knock. Nancy comes tumbling down the stairs “Steve aren’t you gonna get that?” Her eyes go wide upon seeing Eddie. Shit. No this could cause you to spiral, you were doing so good you didn’t need this setback. All three of them stood frozen, not sure what to do or say. The only sound now was the tapping of Munson’s foot, and your humming from the kitchen. Another knock.

The noise pulls you from your thoughts. After the fourth knock, you realise no one is getting it. You breathe in and straighten your back. Look forward don’t look at him. Keep a smile on your face. You walk over to the door ignoring the scene at the side of you. Everyone’s face turns to you. You open the door and try to ignore the burning stares in the back of your head. “Y/n!” Dustin runs into your arms pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you”. He murmurs into your chest. You rub his head “you too kid”. Max pushes him out of the way, “give her some air dude”.

“Sup y/n” she tries to act cool, but you notice the tears in her eyes. You don’t mention it, but you understand how she feels. So you pull her into a hug. “I missed you too” you whisper in her ear. You then pulled away and Lucas awkwardly side-hugged you, the smile on his face showing how much he's missed you. Even if his cool persona wouldn’t tell you so. Robin in typical Robin fashion was running late, probably busy with her ‘not’ girlfriend. It was obvious to everyone they were dating but they were trying to keep it lowkey.

Unfortunately, El, Mike, Will and Jonathan couldn't make it, something about family commitments. You wish they were here not just because you missed them but because the more people here the least likely you would have to talk to him. That him that you were still trying to avoid looking at, which was hard with his eyes burning into you. Dustin was also avoiding the dungeon master's eyes. He felt like he was to blame for the frosty atmosphere, maybe having something to do, like eating, would help. “Nanc when’s food ready? I’m starving”. The sound of the younger boy broke her trance, food, she had completely forgotten. God, she hoped it wasn’t burning. She wanted this night to be perfect, it seemed like fate had another ideas. “You all go and sit down, me and y/n will dish up”. You nodded and left for the kitchen with Nancy.

Eddie didn’t know what to do with himself, no one ever spoke about you so he just assumed you left everyone behind turns out it was just him. He couldn’t pinpoint one feeling for the way he felt, betrayed, angry, heartbroken, curious. The worst part of it all is you were still just as beautiful maybe more so. He hated you for that. He hated you for a lot of things.

You put on the oven gloves taking the casserole out of the oven minutes before it started to go from brown to black. However, maybe burnt food would distract Nancy from the interview she was about to conduct. “I didn’t know he was coming,” she says in hushed tones, you hum agreeing not wanting to get into it. You place the food down, glancing away from Nancy. You weren’t sure what your face looked like, but it probably seemed worried. You were trying to remember all the techniques you had learned to stop you from having a panic attack, counting, listing, and breathing techniques. You were currently counting how many ducks were on the oven gloves you were wearing. 1,2,3,4 “are you okay?” You nod, going back to counting 5, 6, 7. “Should I get him to leave?”. You shake your head.

“No,” you say unconvincingly, you knew everyone else was still friends with him, why should you get in the way of that? It was so long ago, you should probably get over it. Does he even remember what happened? You wonder if he ever regretted it. Should you hate him? You got so caught up in your thoughts that you completely lost count. You were trying to stop your thoughts and you’ve done the complete opposite. It’s okay you could just start again 1,2,3.

“I understand it’s hard seeing him if you wanna talk -�� she hesitates she wants you to feel like you can go to her because you can. But she knows it’s always been you and Steve against the world. She never really fit in. She wasn’t jealous of you, like that anyways. She knew Steve loved her and any feelings you two held were platonic. But she couldn’t help but feel a little left out from the bond you two had. Everyone here had a shared trauma, from their experience of the upside down. Some are worse than others. She could handle that, she knew what to say. How to help. But only you and Steve had experienced that night. She never heard the full story only that it had happened.

She wasn’t there in the aftermath, she wasn’t even there when you left. She wanted to help, she needed to help. She didn’t want to see you in pain ever again, but she felt useless. Steve seemed to be the only person you found comfort in with anything bad. Nancy only got to know happy you, she never got to see the other side. She loved you so much, she wanted to be let completely in. She wanted you to feel like you could come to her with anything and she would help. But there she was in the kitchen trying to show you she was here, she was ready to listen to be a shoulder and you were shutting her out again. She was glad you also couldn’t see her face so you didn’t see the defeated look. “Shall we plate up?” You nod.

You could hear a beeping sound in your ear, which might be the most annoying sound you could ever hear. It felt like it was piercing through your ear drums. You had to open you eyes to get rid of that awful sound. You tried but they felt heavy, you could feel the light seeping through but you couldn’t open them. The last thing you remember is the water starting to turn red. Had you actually done it, was this the end? Was this was the afterlife was? The beeping got louder again, god I must be in hell. Another noise came through over the bleeping.

“Y/n!”. You weren’t dead yet, you had so much you regretted. God Steve you didn’t want to leave him, you didn’t want to put him through this. He was the only thing you had left now. You just couldn’t cope. It was all too much, and the love of your life didn’t want you. But what about if Steve blamed himself? You needed to tell him it wasn’t his fault. Wait what if you regret it? Is it too late? Can you change your mind? All of a sudden you feel a squeeze of your hand. It was so warm, it felt like it was breaking the ice on your body that made it frozen. It was home. You had to get your eyes open, you used all your force, it hurt your head, but you could do it. You saw a blurred silhouette, all you could make out was a blur of brown hair. Omg was it, Eddie, did he save you? Did he still love you? The figure reached forward running a hand through your hair. “You had me worried there”. It wasn’t Eddie but it was your best friend.

Dinner was edible, maybe Steve was right Nancy had got better at cooking. God, she was perfect. You wish you could be more normal like her instead of the mess you were. No, you were doing good, you graduated from university, you have a new job, a new house. You had all of these amazing people who cared about you. You looked around the table and smiled. Until you saw your ex-boyfriend, it’s like the sight of him made you forget how far you’ve come. You were suddenly thrown back to four years ago.

You wish you were just thinking about the bad times, but looking at his face, (god why was he still hot) you couldn’t help but remember the good too. “So why are you back in town?” Eddie didn’t even try to sound nice when asking this. Okay, scratch that now you definitely weren’t thinking of the good times. Be nice y/n, and show him how good you’re doing. “I got scouted for a job at the school” he smirks “I wouldn’t go back there even if they paid me a million dollars”. You plaster a smile on your face, despite the anger that you were starting to feel. “What do you do then?”.

You were both all smiles but anyone in this room knew this wasn’t a friendly chat this was more like a western shootout, of who would win the breakup. “I didn’t sellout, I followed my dream, I own a rock bar” one point to Eddie. “I don’t remember the word bar in your dream. But it was so long ago I can’t remember much from then” point to you. “Yeah it was long ago, it’s like we were different people. We’ve grown up so much. I’ve even got a girlfriend now” this is a complete lie but the smile on your face threatening to fade was enough to show he had won another point. “god I wish I had time for things like dating I’ve been far too busy, getting a degree, but good for you that you have the time for things like that”. Point to you. “ you know I heard people who go to school to study theatre are the only ones who aren’t talented enough to get hired, but I’m sure that’s not true for you. I’m sure you’re just becoming a teacher because you’re good with kids”. Point to him.

Steve had watched enough of this, he had let you both have your little spat but now it was enough, it was going too far. “Who wants dessert?” The seat dragged out behind Eddie, “I’m gonna go for a smoke”. Dustin wanted to say something, he knew his friend was trying to quit, but he was already in the dog house. So he thought it was better to sit there quietly, letting him leave. You slump into your chair, trying to keep the smile up but it becomes harder as the minute pass. You could feel a lump in your throat either tears would soon follow, or you would be sick. “Maybe later, I’m just gonna go to the toilet” you avoid Steve’s eyes peering towards you trying to gauge how you are feeling. You weren’t the only one feeling sick, Steve was starting to worry. Hopefully, this didn’t set you over the edge.

You sink onto the tiled cold floor, leaning against the door not bothering to lock it, your breathing is harsh it’s becoming harder and harder to be calm. Counting helped before maybe you could do that again, this time with tiles. 1, 2,3, 4, 5 the door to the bathroom was pushed open. Sending you flying forward. “sorry I d- oh” Jesus the two of you couldn’t be away from each other for more than a few minutes. You were a magnet to your biggest heartbreak. That was such a cruel fate. You don’t even bother looking at him, you already have given yourself enough material to fill your thoughts for the next couple of months. Torturing yourself with his good looks, signature smirk and the image of what his girlfriend might look like.

He had been trying to get hold of you for a month since originally trying to apologise. At first, he was worried, but now he was annoyed, you didn’t get to abandon him like everyone else. He was gonna fix this. He knew the one person who would know where you were - Steve, which is why he was now here banging on his door. Steve answered, his posture was off, he had lost weight, and bags under his eyes, his nightmares were the worse they had been and now they weren’t just about the monsters. “Where is she?”. His words came out harsher than he meant to. His anger wasn’t meant for Steve but for you, maybe even himself.

Steve used all his energy in his next exchange, he stood up straight to slightly hovering over Eddie to show dominance. “Leave her alone, I mean it”. There was no way Steve would betray you. No one knew what happened and he was going to keep it that way. He was especially going to keep it from Eddie, whom he wish he didn’t but he blamed it on. Even if it wasn’t completely his fault.

Eddie felt like he was back in high school being looked down on by a jock. Which is why he reacted how he did next. “She’s my girlfriend, not yours” he spat. Hoping to prove this meant he knew you better than your best friend. But these were just words. Unfortunately know Eddie wouldn’t recognise the person you had became. Steve wanted to laugh but he was too weak for that. “You lost that title a while ago asshole” he shamed the door. Tears filled Eddie’s eyes, his hands shook. He was maybe the angriest he had ever felt, you couldn’t even break up with him in person. Those 2 years meant nothing.

“I thought you were going for a smoke” he stepped over you and started rummaging through the cabinet under the sink, in search of Steve’s stash he hides from Nancy. The silence is deafening. “What are you looking for?” He huffs, you can’t believe him. “Childish much”. He spots the red label of Marlboro behind a conditioner and pulls it out. He turns around and stares at you, his gaze makes you uncomfortable so you wrap your arms around yourself hoping to disappear. “You know I always imagined what it would feel like the next time I saw you, what I’d say? Would I still think you’re pretty?”. He looks you up and down, “turns out I didn’t have to worry. Because I look at you and feel nothing.” The words leaving his mouth left a bitter taste, but that’s what was needed to officially win the breakup.

After that, he left the bathroom. Not hearing your breathing becoming intense and a panic attack starting to begin. All he could think about was how he needed to get home. He couldn’t keep up this façade for much longer. Pretending to hate you when he still loved you despite the hurt. He need to go out before he did something stupid and apologised for what he said. Even if he did, what would that help, you didn’t care about him. Overwise you wouldn’t have left all those years ago and come back acting as if nothing had happened. The only solace he could have is he won. He hurt you like he’s been hurting for years. He would spend tonight, drowning in whiskey, tears and thoughts of you. Knowing you had already won the break-up the moment you left.

Tag list

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[madelynraemunson]

ex-husband!eddie headcannons

inspired by this universe (18+)

• ex-husband!eddie who flips you the bird via doorbell camera… before gently placing your mother’s day flowers on the porch 💐

• ex-husband!eddie who calls you out on things whenever you piss him off. “you love me though,” you joke snarkily, almost angelically. “i do,” is what he replies. he means it every time.

•ex-husband!eddie who refers to himself as “eddie the banished” bc you were the one to kick him out 💀

• ex-husband!eddie whose lap you're perched on at the family function. your kids send pictures to their friends and caption it, "they're divorced by the way". your kids and their friends are rooting for y'all.

• ex-husband!eddie who can never keep a girlfriend because every time the two of you pose for a family photo, they end up thinking you're better for him and dump him.

• ex-husband!eddie who still changes your oil and rotates your tires (free of charge of course)

• ex-husband!eddie who is the first person on speed dial, because no matter what, and no matter where you two stand, if you need him — he’s there.

ex-husband eddie 🥺🫶🏼

@joshlmbrt cherry this is for you! 🍒 also tagging some peeps who may have wanted a part 2 hehe (except this time it took an angsty turn)

🏷️ : @eddiesxangel @mediocredreams @nailbatanddungeon @potatobeans99

[pinkrelish]

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬.

ex-con!linecook!eddie x fem!reader

✶Steve messed up. He assured you over and over again that you could have the spare bedroom in his apartment, but while you took your time mulling over his offer, someone else moved in: his down-and-out best friend who needed a place to stay. When you show up at Steve's door with little warning due to your job relocating you, he suggests you and Eddie share the bedroom. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Besides the fact Eddie hated you, and in turn, you hated Eddie.✶

NSFW — smut, masturbation, eddie watches porn, dry humping, cumming in pants, reader flashes her bra & wears a pencil skirt, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, there was only one bed(room)

↳ teaser oneshot | [wc: 9.3k] | series tba!

⋅line cook hc from @bewilderedbunny⋅

Steve was a nice guy. Really.

He was your pen pal since meeting at summer camp when you were both eight-years-old. He was sweet, and wrote you back within a week, without fail. He was your first kiss one sweltering afternoon on the dock over the lake; a quick peck when the counselors weren’t looking. He was one of your first contacts in your flip phone, and his picture occupied the first circle when you got a smartphone, after pestering him to meet up with you in Indianapolis, snapping the pic at a crosswalk; a day where your conversations spanned nothing and everything. What was there to talk about when you talked via pencil, pen, markers, emojis, and photos for years, and suddenly forgot the past decade when you encircled your arms around each other?

He was a nice guy throughout all of college. He’d text you during class. You’d text him from states away, falling asleep at your dormroom desk. He worked at his father’s business. You started as an unpaid intern collecting coffee orders, and pulling all-nighters doing spreadsheet grunt work your superiors didn’t deem worthy of their time.

Stevie 🌞: just quit your job and live with me!

Stevie 🌞: I still have that spare bedroom

Stevie 🌞: rent free

Year after year, you always declined. Climbing the ranks at your job was important to you; and one day it paid off. They were relocating you to the Chicago, and if you didn’t take their pitiful relocation package, you’d get a decent advance on your next paycheck (which was dire considering your salary was roughly the same, despite the ever increasing cost of living); and knowing Steve always had that spare furnished bedroom, and most of your belongings could fit into your car (as long as you didn’t need to see out the rear window), it seemed like a done deal.

Until you surprised him.

You: hey! can i move in w you? my jobs relocating me to chicago and i might already be two hours out. sorry i didn’t text sooner. i had to leave my apartment asap. fuck paying for the damage cindy’s doberman did to that place 😬

Stevie 🌞: Lets talk when you get here

Stevie 🌞: I’ll meet you for coffee

Let’s talk? Never a good sign, even when he was smiling at you from over his latte.

————

“My friend needed the spare room, but he’s a good guy, I swear,” he told you.

“He’s just a little rough around the edges,” he told you.

“He’s understanding; I’m sure you two will get along,” he told you.

“He can make space in the closet for your stuff, and one of you can sleep on the couch,” he told you. “Maybe you can alternate! Bed, couch. It's not like I’m charging him rent, so he should be cool with you living with us until you can afford to move out, or whatever. No big deal. I don’t really care when, you know that. No rush.”

Right. Just share the room.

You weren’t present for the conversation; Steve and Eddie were in the bedroom while you stood awkwardly in the living room, but the result of the exchange made quite the first impression.

“I dunno,” Steve’s voice carried, “maybe you could work something out like you get the room Monday through Wednesday, and she gets it Thursday through Saturday. Sunday’s up in the air?”

“Oh, just share the room like I used to, huh?” Eddie asked, alluding to the life he lived several months ago. “Finally got some privacy to breathe around here, and now you’ve invited some chick to live with us without telling me? Actually–no–you invited her to live here. In my room. No heads up.”

Steve’s wince was audible in his heavy sigh. “You work weird hours, you probably won’t even have to interact with her. C’mon, man. She’s been my friend since we were kids, and it’s just until she finds her own place. She’s cool. She’ll sleep on the couch, or whatever if it really bothers you; just like, let her keep her clothes and shit in here, and let her use the computer for work.”

“Whatever, man.”

“Eddie, wait!”

Thunderous footsteps and a seething, “Fuck this,” followed the heightened emotions, and before you could straighten your spine, you were introduced to your new roommate.

His pace faltered, not expecting you to be standing there. The fine wrinkles in the outer corner of his eyes pinched tighter, and his long hair flowed around a faded black snake tattoo on his throat, stretching across the strained tendons it was inked over, reaching the twitching muscle in his jaw from his clenched teeth. It took him a narrow-eyed glance to sum you and your pink luggage up, and place you firmly in the ‘I don’t like you’ category in his mind, and he continued his march.

“Hi! I’m–”

Your outstretched hand went ignored as he passed you.

He shoved on his boots, and slammed the front door behind him, rattling every piece of metal in the apartment. You stared at where he was just standing, vision marked with a black silhouette of the good guy you’d be sharing intimate space with for the next.. however long, and still with your hand out, you swiveled to Steve. “Yeah, he seems nice.”

————

Eddie Munson glared at your very existence. He wore a permanent crease between his brows when you were in his vicinity. Apprehension tensed his muscles when your soft gaze slid from Steve, to him. There was distaste in his frown. He rolled his eyes when you laughed too loud at the TV. His voice was vitriol, words clipped when he had to speak to you. His shoulders hiked to his ears when you entered the kitchen for a glass of water and caught him mid-chew on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich after he got home from work. When it was your turn to sleep in the bed, he made it a point to come home as loud as possible–yanking open the drawers on the dresser, waking the computer to blazing home screen, and leaving the light on when he went to shower across the hallway, pretending he didn’t hear you grumble at him to turn it off.

You wore a sleep mask to bed after that.

And when you slept on the couch, it was the only time he cooked for himself. Scraping pans across the burners, clinking silverware, gathering his hair off his neck and twisting it between his laced fingers, creating a cradle for him to drop his head back and sigh at the ceiling, just loud enough to stir you from your sleep.

You wore earplugs to bed after that.

Eddie Munson made it known you were not welcomed in his territory, and saw your accidental warm smile thrown vaguely in his direction as a threat to his well being.

But as much as he ensured misery every second you had the fortune of spending in his presence, you weren’t so innocent of terrorizing his every waking moment either..

Soon, Monday through Wednesday, and Thursday through Saturday, and a chance at a lazy Sunday were not enough.

————

When Steve was home, he acted as the mediator when it came to you two being at each other’s throats after another vicious stare-off. Currently, Eddie was standing with his arms crossed, leaned against the counter with his cheeks darkened to a fleshy red, and you were pacing the kitchen, wrapped in a bath towel, stating your case to Steve. You argued since most of the hair clogging the drain belonged to Eddie, he should be the one to clean it. And Steve, not knowing how to interpret Eddie’s steely focus on the fridge as if you didn’t exist, nor the fact a woman was dripping wet and yelling at him, he put his hands up in defense.

He edged away from your ire until he was at the cabinet housing a toothpick dispenser, and depressed the mechanism for one to roll out. He snapped it, put his hands behind his back, and shuffled the two ends into his palm, and had you choose one. Eddie kept his gaze averted, but grasped the other.

You held the long end of the toothpick above your head with a smile to rival the kitchen’s daylight bulbs searing into your retinas. You were the winner, and Eddie was the loser who had to clean the bathroom.

This worked swell when Steve was around to mitigate the tension. But when he was on a business trip, or out on a date, the Bed Schedule was a formality at best, and largely ignored at worst.

Meaning, the bets, deals, and favors began.

They started small: Rock, paper, scissors; winner gets dibs on those just-washed sheets. Flip a coin and see who has to rough it in the living room for the next two nights. Draw the shorter toothpick and try not to stab it in Eddie’s eye when he smirked.

But those were childish games. It was the deals and favors that proved more interesting.

“Can you help me punch holes in these?” you asked, voice high and urgent as you rushed to grab your color coded pie charts from the printer and clip them into a presentation binder.

He scoffed from the bedroom doorway, smelling of fryer oil and bacon grease. “What makes you think I want to help you after cooking for assholes all night?”

“Because you’re nice, and you love me.”

“I despise you,” he corrected, crossing his arms tight over his chest. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while you organized the pages, resisting the bait to give him what he wants, but you knew in your heart it was the only way to not be late for work this morning.

“Fine. You can have the bed tonight.”

He stayed put. “Nope. You know I’m working the overnight shift until Thursday.” That way, he slept while you were at work, and you slept while he was at work.

You glanced at the blue dawn creeping in from the window, then red the time on your watch. “Okay, fine, whatever! Have it all next week. I don’t give a fuck, just help me!”

Reveling in his victory, his plush lips stretched into a wide grin, showing too much teeth. He sauntered at his leisure, closing his eyes half-way, and gazing at you down the long slope of his nose. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he mocked.

You wanted to strangle him.

–And another time–

“Shut the fuck up for an entire day, and you can have to whole fucking closet,” Eddie snapped after your fifth instance of complaining about your professional office clothes not having available hangers due to him taking them for his old, ratty band tees.

Centering yourself, you brushed the dust off your favorite pants after finding them wadded up on the floor, and whispered, “I hope a rogue knife finds its way into your thumb again tomorrow.”

You swore you saw his hand flex out the corner of your eye, reacting to your curse.

–And the week after that–

You: come help me bring up these groceries

You: elevators broken

You: we can race up the stairs

You: loser washes dishes and takes out the trash

😒dumb: as long as the loser doesn’t cry about it when she sleeps on the couch

You: whatever

😒dumb: i’ll even give you a head start to make it fair

Struck with being that person grinning down at your phone in the stuffy underground parking garage, you gilded your thumbs over the keyboard in a fluttery tease.

You: you just want an excuse to stare at my ass

It took Eddie longer to reply, fumbling with his phone to find the emoji keyboard, only to send–

😒dumb: 🙄

–And the week after that–

“Get a life, you fucking loser,” you yelled from within the metal cylinder of the dryer, bent over on your hands and knees to wrestle your silk blouse free from where it was tangled in a rope of bedsheets, after you told him–explicitly–to never wash it because he’d do it wrong.

He merely watched you struggle from the sidelines, informing you, “You’re the one who asked me to do laundry. Don’t toss your precious, delicate shirts on the bathroom floor if you don’t want them thrown in with everything else. And by the way, I did my part of the deal, so the room is still mine tonight.” As a bonus, he added as he walked away, “Suck my dick, sweetheart.”

Your gums ached from how hard you clenched your teeth. You didn’t leave your blouse on the floor. He did, when he went hunting for his wallet he left in his jeans, and dumped all the clothes out of both baskets, mixing your work clothes with his.

That night, you locked him out of the bedroom. Fuck him.

————

After tireless days of the same back and forth, the juvenile deals and favors were losing their significance. Someone needed to up the ante. And a certain line you two skirted taunted you both, but remained uncrossed until..

————

The hallway leading to your apartment was stale with inactivity. Most people had been home for hours, or were back from bars and crashed on the couch, drooling on their girlfriend’s favorite decorative pillow–the kind with the pom poms. You thought of them with envy. Snoring, dreaming of some blissful shit like sheep hopping a pasture fence. But not you. Your 9 to 5 extended far past those numbers on the clock. It skipped right over them, just like you were skipped over in meetings, being told the extra burden you were taking on was good for the company, and the programs you were learning would be paid in experience. Bullshit. You were tired, and the last thing you needed was some long haired man stubbing his toe on the coffee table to wake you up–morning or night.

But perhaps you were blessed.

You opened the door to near-darkness. Not a lamp, or TV on inside to show someone was home. Not a groan, sigh, or blast of music funneling from a set of oversized headphones. Not a creak of movement from the hallway, or bathroom; surrendering your heartbeat as the loudest feedback.

It appeared you were alone. What a wonderful thing.

The muffled thud of the low pile rug under your heels gave way to silky sweeps of plush carpet welcoming your aching pantyhose-covered feet. Moving further into the apartment, you knew the shapes to avoid in the dim light coming from above the stove, casting the coffee table and scattered stools at the breakfast bar in shadow.

Groggy from exhaustion, you blinked at the spice cabinet door Eddie left open before leaving for his shift. During a conversation with Steve, you let it slip that people who leave the cabinet doors open annoy you, so of course he began leaving one open as a greeting when you came home.

You closed it with your right hand, swinging your laptop bag wildly, and before you could react, the strap caught the top of the glass sugar jar and knocked it over in a wincing crash. Luckily, after peeping one eye open, you assessed nothing broke, but now there was a streak of glittery white dust on the countertop you definitely weren’t going to clean up.

Maybe you could strike a deal with Eddie to wipe it up for you. It was–in a way–his fault, since he left the cabinet door open. If you didn’t need to close it, none of this would’ve happened..

You made a gagging sound.

Since when did your immediate thought process swing to him, and how do you get it to stop? It was bad enough you peeked around the corner into the hallway, praying, praying, praying the bedroom light was off, and feeling your body slump with utter relief when it was. Being on the same planet as him was hell, you didn’t need your private thoughts to linger on him, too.

Mentally dismissing Eddie Munson from your brainspace, you invited yourself into the bedroom. You sought the cushy mattress to cradle your weary body after a long day, and the nest of cozy fleece blankets to swaddle you as you drifted to sleep. Unfortunately, the idiot’s pillow smelled far too much like him; cigarettes and cheap vanilla cologne combined with his hair products, burning your nose like toasted sugar. Despicable. Just the worst. You should exchange it with your own pillow, but you forgot it on the couch, and the couch was so very, very far away..

~~~

Eddie sat crouched in the alleyway outside of Benny’s Diner with a stubby cigarette balanced between his lips, blowing the smoke out in a slow exhale like a roll of fog on a misty morning. Cold emanated from the bricks pricking the expanse of his shoulders, and the night air chilled his damp shirt to his sticky skin, erupting goosebumps along his forearms. Standing around him were the other cooks on break. He didn’t share a common language with them outside of gestures, curse words, and kitchen lingo, but they gathered in a semi-circle as if to include him.

His shift was over. He’d technically clocked out, but he loitered until their vices were stomped under their shoes, and he snuffed his glowing ash on the wall behind him, and followed them inside.

Washing his hands first, he dried them on the towel tucked under the string of his apron tied around his waist, and set up a space on the flat top for him to occupy since the dinner rush had long since died, and the only patrons on the floor were drunks wandering in for greasy hashbrowns. He grabbed the four quart Cambro from the fridge beneath the prep area, and ladled enough batter for two large pancakes. Borrowing a station, he sliced up a ripe banana from the walk-in, and dropped it into a hot pan with a bit of butter, caramelizing them on the range while he waited for the pancakes to be flipped.

The guys behind him read off the few tickets, and carried their conversation from earlier. Eddie caught some of it, learning a few words here or there, but regardless of the language barrier, he knew they were talking about him. They were snickering with their heads together, pointing at the pancakes he was making despite being clocked out.

Eddie spoke with a sneaky grin, “If I make them for her, she’ll leave me the fuck alone on my day off.”

The guys may not have understood entirely what he meant, but his sunny disposition juxtaposed by his wry gaze communicated a universal plight: girls.

One of their hands landed hard between Eddie’s shoulder blades when they doubled over in a belly laugh, and the other one made whip-cracking sounds, calling him the same slang word he called the married cooks. It wasn’t worth it to attempt to correct them that these pancakes were not for his girl, but for his future migraine, so he hummed along with them, and flipped the pancakes with his right hand while tossing the bananas with a swift jerk of his left.

After their gossip, they went back to work, and Eddie grabbed a to-go container, loading it with the two pancakes and sliding the caramelized bananas on top. He brought it to the prep area to drizzle with chocolate sauce, and finished it off with heart-shaped strawberries, a dusting of powdered sugar, and a sprig of mint. He didn’t cut the strawberries that way with ulterior motives, it was just something he did when he had spare time in the morning. Cutting a wedge out of the stemmed top, and slicing them vertical. The customers liked it. It was cute, supposedly. There were no hidden intentions to him taking his time to place them just so around the box; it was merely him taking pride in how he plated his dish.

Clamping the container shut, he untied his apron, changed his shoes, and left out the back entrance, kicking pebbles under the crescent moon, and walking through the front door of the next building over. Gray concrete, a faulty elevator, ugly rugs to feign elegance, and high rise as far as ‘high rise when you live next a bunch of squatty buildings’ went. It was home, and it was blissfully dark inside.

Eddie worked his feet out of his tied-once-and-never-untied street shoes, and dropped his non-slip clogs next to them in a loud clatter.

He breathed. Inhaled deep. Sighed through his nose.

Quiet. Peaceful respite behind his eyelids.

The adrenaline ebbed. The hours of shouting and being shouted at, metal on metal clangs, timer beeps, and mechanical whirr of a ticket being printed out would never cease haunting his mind, but he should stop flinching from the imaginary sounds after a few hours. The pain stretching the length of his back should ease under a hot shower. The throbbing ache in his knees should lessen once he sleeps. The fatigue, like needles driven into his bones, should heal so he could be on his feet for thirteen more hours tomorrow.

Warmth worked its way beyond the calluses creating a barrier in his palm supporting the styrofoam container. Syrupy sweet hot sugar invaded his nostrils from the pancake bribe, battling the stench of his dried sweat and body odor baked into his t-shirt. The tiled entryway beneath his feet woke him out of his daze, and he slid his heavy-lidded gaze to the vacant couch; the comforter was folded, and the pillow was propped up, unslept on.

Briefly he wondered if you went out with your friends after work. But as he approached the kitchen, his dreams were crushed by a single closed cabinet door.

You were home.

You were home, and you weren’t on the couch, nor in the shower.

Eddie allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he hung his head back. In that position, he rolled the disappointment out of his shoulders, and braced them with something new.

Irritation.

Tamping the frustration in the pit of his stomach from bubbling up, he exhaled another calming breath, and opened the fridge, placing the pancakes exactly front and center amongst the fresh produce he was sometimes excited to create with, and sometimes slammed to the bottom of the trash when he was too exhausted and uninspired to do anything with their rotten corpses.

He prepared his expression into one of unbudging indifference. Flat, and unwilling to back down.

And yet, his nose scrunched when he pushed open the bedroom door, and there you were, as predicted, lounging amongst your hideous blankets spilling out from under you as if you were an opulent pearl nestled within an oyster shell.

The resentment built as he assessed your form delicately painted in a red glow from the ugly neon sign in the shape of a lipstick kiss tacked alongside his favorite band posters. He’d only lived with Steve long enough to feel comfortable decorating the blank walls, and you ruined the Rob Halford flow three days into your invasion. Your face was highlighted by the dim blue light of your laptop resting on your stomach, rising and falling with each gentle breath, and you were haloed by the Himalayan salt lamp crowding the nightstand. It’s trendy, you explained.

With vehemence, he flickered the light switch.

You cringed from the bright assault, and clacked your fingers on the keyboard, pretending you weren’t dozing off a second ago. “Can you go away?”

“What’re you doing in here?”

Unimpressed by his tone, you glazed your response in insolence. “What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m minding my own business.” At that, your attitude was solidified, along with how this interaction would go.

Eddie stared at you for a long minute. Not once did you acknowledge him. He watched your eyes dart across the screen, probably watching one of those Youtube videos where girls walked around exciting cities with a camera way too close to their face, and he dragged his gaze downwards, noticing you were still in your work clothes; though, your blouse and skirt were disheveled, and your pantyhose were discarded on the floor, still holding the vague shape of your legs, resembling a flattened rotisserie chicken.

He focused on your eyes again. Bloodshot, rimmed in red with a suggestion of water clinging to the outer corners where your eyelashes met, and sporting a hefty burden of bags beneath them.

“It’s Wednesday,” he reminded you, voice heavy in his chest, but sounding scratchy, and hollow. His throat was shot.

“Mm,” you hummed and glanced at the clock in the corner of your screen, “it’s Thursday, actually.”

White hot anger boiled in his veins, striking his skin like a leather lash. It simmered, popped, sizzled, boiled over. The yelling, the timers, the cacophonous clanging. The ticket machine, the keyboard, the stinging cut on his thumb. Smug fucking brat laying in his bed on his night to have it. It was sudden, it was stark, and it was hatred.

“Make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“A fucking deal,” he repeated. “You know, like we’ve been making?” He stopped himself short of calling you a dirty name, but you must’ve gathered it from his tongue’s hesitation, because you turned your head a few degrees to challenge his temper.

“Oh, lucky for you, there was a two-for-one deal at the store.”

You waved two middle fingers at him, showing a bit of teeth with your crooked grin.

The hatred festered, but not as vicious. The anger was there–oh, the anger was there–but the energy to keep this going hit its peak, and fizzled. There was no sense in reasoning with you. The pancakes in the fridge were for a different occasion, he couldn’t waste them on this, and he was too tired to come up with his own bet, deal, or favor. “Just think of something so we can get this over with,” he nearly begged.

After some consideration, you held your fist out for rock, paper, scissors.

“Where’s the option for a gun in my mouth?”

“Harsh,” you pouted. Instead, you pointed at the 20 sided die on the desk. He inclined his head, shaking it with a slow sort of intention, eyes wide to express his warning to knock it off, and give him a true answer, something to make this worthwhile.

Finding the whole ordeal dull, you returned your attention to your laptop, pressing the white earbud into your ear before unpausing the video.

It took seconds off his life, but you finally spoke again.

“How long were you in prison? Six years? Bet it’s been a while since you’ve seen one of these in the flesh.” Due to your satin cream blouse being unbuttoned at the neck, you dipped your thumb under the collar, and traced the vibrant temptation of your red bra strap in a long, deliberate stroke. You hooked the soft pad of your thumb under the luxury, and brought it out for his viewing pleasure. A moment later, you snapped it to your skin, and went back to typing, not once breaking concentration with your video.

Eddie’s fascination, however, was trained on the dainty crimson gift slipping under the shimmery cream, sliding against the soft slope of your shoulder.

Heat thrummed in his chest. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, sloshing his blood like viscous tidal waves, muting the clacky sound of your keyboard. Anger mixed with something more, something worse. It warmed his cheeks, and reignited the cold sweat prickling his back. It honed his curiosity, sinking every detail of the second tortoiseshell button on your blouse into his mind. Memorizing how the fabric around it went taut, and glinted honey at the height of your breath. Noticing how the bottom of your shirt was wrinkled and pulled slack, but still tucked into your pencil skirt. Remembering how the tight material hugged your thighs when you traipsed around the apartment. Although, the navy blue number was less defined now, fitting looser around your hips.

He didn’t know how long he was fixated by your clothing, until you sighed.

“Not enough for you?”

You asked it with forced casualness, he could tell. Your voice was too even, tone too polite, eyebrows too raised in mock indifference. You were introducing a line that had yet to be crossed. A door which, when opened, would give access to more possibilities than the usual bets, deals, and favors. An enticing offer, and he didn’t deny the nervous flutter of intrigue arousing his blood elsewhere.

But past the line was dangerous territory. Right? That’s where things got muddied, and feelings got involved.

Or maybe not. Because, above all else, he hated you, and you hated him.

This was a deal like any other.

“Maybe this’ll help,” you said, never breaking eyesight from the screen, its colors reflecting in your pupils.

You were the epitome of cool pinching the blouse between your fingers and slotting the buttons through the holes one after the other. Down, down, down to your navel, tugging either side of the shirt open, letting the elegant cream frame the aggressive scarlet.

Eddie was taken off guard.

The bra was more akin to lingerie than he expected. Its cups contained you like a poorly kept secret. Curves of red peonies covered your nipples–hard bud pressing against the center of the flower from the thrill of exploring a new end to your daily arguments. Your areolas peeked from between the petals, where the intricate lacework went see through, granting him a preview to the smooth flesh beneath.

Click clack, click clack, space bar, space bar, space bar, he swore you pressed your arms together to make your breasts rounder. Actually, he didn’t need to second guess. He saw the cusp of cleavage squish before his very eyes.

“Satisfied?” you inquired.

No, he ached.

The voice in his head was so automatic, so sure, he didn’t question it, either.

When he refused to verbalize the things which made him nauseous, his opulent pearl rolled onto her shoulder and lifted the laptop the pillow, turning over onto her stomach to engage with it solely, circling a manicured fingernail over the trackpad, and clicking.

To his surprise, the video on screen wasn’t of the vapid people you watched, but of a troubleshooting guide to the program your company was having you learn in order to teach it to the higher ups next week. (Or so he heard when you told Steve yesterday.) You tabbed out of the video, fixed a property in a column, checked the statistic it was evaluating, and added in an aesthetically pleasing green color before tabbing back.

He couldn’t parse how he felt about you having to do more thankless tasks off the clock, especially when you were clearly tired, but something else stole the last of his fiery anger, and doused his willpower to resist a glance.

Your habit of unzipping your skirt as soon as you walked into the apartment proved evident when you rolled over. The silky polyester lining slipped against your skin, shifting the long zipper from your hip to your backside. The halves parted, showing the end of the cream blouse, and a peek of skin. You adjusted how you laid, rocking your hips back and forth until you sank into the plush blankets, and propped your chin in your palm when you weren’t typing. Small movements working the skirt higher, and higher, bunching the fabric around the fat of your ass. Squirming, and stretching, tugging on your blouse, pulling, pulling, blouse, skirt, blouse, skirt, and then he saw it..

Red.

Delicate, feminine.

Tucked, hidden from anyone’s view but his, were the matching red panties to your bra. Trapped in a valley between thighs and ass, and stretching over the swell of your heat, embellishing the mouth watering desire in opaque lace strained firm against the outline of his treasure.

Eddie swallowed.

“Why’re you still in here?” you asked with a bite of annoyance. “You got to see a girl’s bra for the first time ever, probably. You should be celebrating, throwing yourself a party. In the living room. On the couch.”

The anger had returned like a slap of reality across his cheek. He narrowed his eyes at the back of your head, remembering why he loathed you with every fiber of his being. “I’ve seen a bra before.”

“Pictures don’t count.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Your body jolted with a snort, and he flung open the door hard enough for it to bounce off the door stop. He heard your infuriating inhale, and slapped the lightswitch off, shutting the door behind him with excessive force before you could ask more demands of him. Gladly, he closed himself out of his own bedroom. The physical barrier under his trembling fist had never felt better, still gripping the knob as if he’d go back in there.

He wouldn’t.

He let go of the chilled metal and stalked down the hall, curbing himself from stomping out his frustration, only to throw himself onto the couch. Stomach burning with hunger, hatred. Chest heaving with rage. Pulse rising in his throat, beating against the ball chain necklace he wore. Breathing so hard, sounding as if he’d ran laps before collapsing onto his bed for the night, crossing his arms to squeeze his biceps, massaging his fingers down the muscle. Occupying himself. Distracting himself.

It wasn’t working.

He was mad.

Furious.

Draping his hand over his eyes, he gave himself a moment to make a decision, and pushed his bangs off his forehead. They stayed in their gravity defying position due to the oil. He needed to shower. He needed to clean himself of this day, and go to sleep. But he couldn’t.

The fever in his veins was too distracting. He needed to take care of it. Get rid of it.

Sitting up, he unfolded the comforter from the end of the couch, and propped the pillow against the armrest to angle his head slightly up, where he could see the hallway.

From his front pocket, he collected his phone and laid it on his stomach while he unbuttoned his pants, pinching the waistband together and pulling the zipper down, sighing through his nose at the relief of the lines he was crossing.

He grasped his phone and brought it close to his face. Cupped in one palm, and using the other hand to tap it twice. A streak of perspiration was left on the screen where he swiped in his passcode, using his index finger to open a private browser and type in a porn site. Any porn site. Whichever variation of the word porn + noun he thought of first. It didn’t matter much to him; that’s not where his preferences lie.

office worker

co-worker

secretary

office worker tight skirt

office worker pov skirt grinding

His brain went stupid for synonyms trying to narrow down his search. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew the ultra HD, professionally lit, fakey acting wasn’t it. He scrolled, and scrolled. Narrowed his search again. Ticked off boxes on the side. Tried broader genres. Went back to the results he was on, and traveled down the rabbit hole a few more pages until, at last, he found what suited him.

The thumbnail appeared promising. Dimly lit, sorta bad quality, and clearly shot at home with a woman whose body type wasn’t far off from what he was hoping for. He even appreciated the visual similarities in the amateur actress’ navy blue skirt, and off-white blouse. As long as he scrolled down a tad to crop out her face, it was perfect. Plus, it was easier to insert himself into the scene that way.

He clicked it, and– ”Jesus Christ,” he turned down the volume as quickly as he could, accidentally pressing down the two buttons on the side that took a screenshot and saved it to his gallery.

The video started a little further into the act than he anticipated.

Such a fucking idiot, Eddie, Jesus Christ. Sitting in thick silence, he waited to see if you’d heard, and once his face calmed of the embarrassed flush stinging his cheeks, he moved on.

Eddie worked his right hand under the comforter, but heeded his boxers as a layer of separation. At the first contact with the parts of him he denied aching for the bane of his existence, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Gently, he raked his fingernails down the base of his shaft, and over his balls. He cupped them. Felt their heft. Cradled them and dragged them softly upwards, letting them fall and stretch before repeating the motion, enjoying the tickly sensation of being the first thing he touched. His most sensitive, most susceptible part of himself. Meanly ignoring the other part of him twitching, throbbing, begging to be catered to.

He kept some fraction of his brain alert to the hallway, senses sharpened by the spike of adrenaline, listening out for any sound of you exiting the room. But most of him was focused on hitting the play button, sticking to his decision that he couldn’t wait to do this in the shower. He needed it now.

It started with the woman already in motion. Shot from the guy’s point of view laying on the bed, his obvious hardon pressing through his slacks into her pussy grinding down on him. Her skirt lifted with each motion, showing her black underwear. Not that he was complaining they weren’t red, but he didn’t concentrate on them.

He switched from playing with his balls to gripping his cock. Finally. It buzzed with the rush of pleasure, harder than it had ever been, even in his youth. His fingers hardly met through his boxers, but he encircled them the best he could, and started with fast, desperate, stunted strokes, getting himself to where the guy in the video was in a matter of pent-up seconds, clenching his ass to buck his hips up. Heart pounding. Inhales shaky from the speed at which he took care of his problem, exhales interrupted by muted huffs.

Maybe he should be embarrassed, but it didn’t take him long to feel that encouragement to keep going, keep going, keep going. Where each frantic pump along his length was better than the last. Where each accidental graze of his fingers over the lipped edge of his tip sprinted towards his bliss.

In the video, the woman dipped a finger between her lips and moved her panties aside.

There was a low hum in the back of his throat, engrossed by the wet warmth opposed to his dry fist.

Metal knob turning–door creaking–carpet groaning, step, step, step–

It was a fucking miracle he managed to close out of the window in his panic. His thumb missed it the first two times as fear coated him in a cold sweat, and the phone fell out of his palm, smacking him in the chin as you rounded the corner.

You didn’t spare him the time of day as you walked into the kitchen and got a glass from the cabinet. Didn’t bother looking at him as you stood at the fridge with your hip cocked out, holding the cup under the outer dispenser and depressing the button for ice.

The fridge made a mechanical whirr, and filled your glass. Ker-chunk, ker-chunk, ker-chunk, the ice cubes tinked into the cup for the longest seconds of his life. His hand was frozen mid-tug on his dick, and you were wearing an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else. Truly, it hardly covered your ass. It clung to your hips, brushed the height of your thighs, and suddenly, he was checking how obvious the bulk of the comforter was over his lap, and if it creased when he moved his hand upwards.

Nothing. Not a fold out of place. He could keep it up. Stroke, by stroke, brushing his fingers over the head only, testing his limits to keep discreet while you switched to the other spout on the fridge for water.

Even when you turned to him, he massaged himself over his boxers, soaking the sticky slick beads of precum into the fabric.

“What?”

Your tone didn’t deter him from tracing the underside of his swollen head, caressing the glans with the same sort of sentiment he experienced in the homemade porn between a real couple–all gentle and nice.

He mustered enough brain cells to respond, “What? I’m already sleeping on the couch. Can’t you leave me alone for one night? Or are you that desperate for attention?”

None the wiser, you took a sip from your glass, and folded your other arm across your stomach, making it obvious from the natural sway that you weren’t wearing a bra. Probably weren’t wearing panties either..

Swallowing the ice cold water with a satisfied ‘ah’, you went on your merry way. “Just came to gawk at the bridge troll, is all. Night night!” Your annoying farewell was followed by the creak of the door, and the faint click of it closing.

What a fucking irritating person.

The anger bristled again. Definitely anger. It was there, lurking, when he rubbed at the sore spot on his chin and picked up his phone, unlocking it to stare at the homescreen.

There was no patience within him to find the video. Besides, the sanitized professional thumbnails on the homepage were enough to have him dropping his phone to the cushion crevices beside him, surrendering himself to his imagination. Nothing lived up to the scenarios in his head, anyway.

Before getting ahead of himself, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic waistband, and gripped himself wholly. There was no sense in denying what he wanted: the raw desire of his hand wrapped firmly around his cock, not caring about creating a mess. It could be cleaned up later. He needed this. Now.

He immersed himself in the fantasy.

The visuals took place minutes ago, if he hadn’t backed down. It was based on you refusing to give him the bed, and instead of walking away from your bratty attitude, he lifted his chin, and broadened his chest with a confidence he didn’t possess. Fantasy Eddie had the courage to kneel on the mattress like he belonged there. Your body would dip, rock towards his imposing knees straddling either side of your calves, and in his strongest dreams, he acted out what should’ve happened.

If he had his way, he would begin with your hips. A single strong palm on the curve would have you hiking them up to greet him, and he was a gentleman. As soon as you presented him with the opportunity, he was scrambling to spread your legs so he could dip between them, eager to please. He wanted to know the sensation of coarse red lace scratching across his tongue; it would be a novelty only he would know. His hands would be on your upper thighs, bringing you closer, closer, to where his mouth awaited you. Persuading your face to the sheets. Putting a wicked arch in your back, granting him permission.

He’d angle his mouth to your clothed clit and collect spit to his bottom lip, parting, and lapping his tongue over the pretty thing, suckling it through the fabric. His nose would be to your cunt, inhaling the musky pheromones. Didn’t matter how long you’d been at work, proving yourself to people who would never appreciate you like he did. He cherished every bit of you so much. The heady scent intoxicated him like a drug, the dimples when he smashed the fat of your ass around his face, your silly whine when he pressed kisses up your pretty pussy. The anger was gone. Like that, he adored you. After all, you craved him. And it’d been a long time since he was wanted. It felt nice to not be rejected.

Eddie, Fantasy You gasped when the wet sound of him sucking your clit through your panties grew in fervor. He was drunk on you. Trying hard. Giving more. Licking at the dark patch he created. God, he loved it. He loved the evidence. He could suckle, moan, flatten his tongue like torture and just breathe on you until he fell asleep, waking up to nudge his teeth over the sensitive areas you presented to him. Spending hours getting you to your peak, over and over.

But in reality, he was approaching his end rather quickly.

My turn, sweetheart, he regretfully informed you.

Getting to his knees, he positioned himself behind you. His cock slotted so nicely against you; red lace meeting unzipped gray uniform pants, and he wasted no time stoking the flames from where he left off.

He clapped your cheeks around the hard outline of his cock. His black boxers stretched to their limits to contain him. There was a dark patch at the tip peeking out between your ass, growing with each slow, assertive grind he committed to, fucking himself into the curve of your cunt with ragged breaths. Losing himself. Mouth agape, and eyebrows pinched as his needy head was swallowed when he rocked his hips back, and reappeared with a rough thrust.

Again, it didn’t take long until he needed a break to make himself last longer.

He draped his weight over you as he slid his rough, calloused palms up the backs of your thighs, creating goosebumps along the sensitive flesh on his way to your sorry excuse for skirt. He bunched the pitiful thing to your waist, and reached for the hem of your shirt.

You hummed in approval, pressing against his lap.

It was hard to balance, but you supported him as he yanked your blouse up–sucking in a sharp breath when you moaned, and rutted yourself on his length–and he brushed his fingers along your soft skin in search for the bra clasp, and when he found it, he pulled the band tight. The latch gave. He caught sudden heft in his palm, cupping you and the bra together, massaging lightly until your nipple slotted between the base of two of his fingers, and he applied the gentlest pressure.

Oh fuck, you whined so nicely for him.

They’re extra sensitive after being caged all day, you explained.

Yeah? Does it feel good?

You nodded, cheek smashed against the wrinkled sheets.

He pinched harder.

Saliva gathered at the corner of your lips, spilling in a sticky string as you dragged your head in another nod, heavy-lidded eyes just visible through your lashes, open mouth panting for him.

True satisfaction spread like weightlessness from the pit of anger in his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to be making you feel good, not the person ruining the one place he found peace after six years of paranoia, but here he was, wishing the taste of your pussy lasted longer in his mouth. Here he was, anchoring his forearm alongside yours, gripping the same sheet you gripped while he beared his weight down on you, and pressed kisses to your clothed shoulders.

His other hand was trapped between you and the bed, but each pulse around your nipple was another long stroke on his cock.

The scene had been set. The build up and story line were crafted. Now, he could play.

He worked kisses under your collar, tasting the sheen of sweat at your hairline, leaving trails of spit to cool as he lolled his head on top of yours, resting his forehead amongst your hair, and he put his lips to the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver beneath him.

Do you think you can treat me that way, and get away with it? Fantasy Him asked. Think you can boss me around whenever you want? He punctuated his question with a hard, unexpected thrust, earning a gasp from your pretty mouth.

Turn over. He didn’t command it verbally, but when he took away his hand to smack the side of your ass, and sat back, you were aware of his unstated switch in position.

You laid on your back, legs spread for him. Skirt bunched around your hips, blouse fallen open, except for the one button remaining. He grasped his cock, and stroked himself through his boxers for you. His brows were drawn together in a gentle question, gaze locked onto yours. This was supposed to be about him, but he still asked, Is this okay? Is this what you want?

The source of his anger, his rage, his frustration–all the blame, burdens, and negativity he attributed to a single woman–opened her arms to him, and nodded.

He passed over your pussy to praise kisses to your stomach. Deft fingers working to undo the last button on your blouse, and explore upwards. Wet smacks of his sloppy gifts arched your back the higher he traveled, molding his large hands to your body. Brushing his rough fingers to the junction of your inner thigh and hip, and spreading you open so your pussy swallowed the fabric, wedging the red lace tight to your clit for later. Up, up, his kisses covered you, until he nosed at the underwire of your bra, and lifted it out of the way.

Fuck, Eddie.

You pushed his hair out of his face. The shorter curls fell from the low bun at his nape, and you tucked them behind his ear so you could watch his tongue lap and swirl at your nipple. Your fluttery moans were heaven, as were your tits being shoved in his mouth. You squirmed for him, clamored for him. You wanted him, needed him. Did you care that his hair was greasy? Did you care that dried salt crystals from sweat scratched your fingers when you cradled his jaw? Did you care about his smell from thirteen hours of being in a hot kitchen when you cupped him under the armpits, encouraging him with a buck of your hips to get back to business?

He supposed not, since it was his fantasy.

But just like reality, you were trying to boss him around.

Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?

You could hardly meet his gaze, eyes so heavy with lust you couldn’t keep them open long enough to beg.

He aligned himself, nudging the tip of his cock to your clit, and he savored the experience of watching the bliss wash over you. It took him a beat to realize, but he moaned in response to your moan. Watching you react from where he picked up his head from your chest, memorizing the fake vision of your face losing the usual harsh distaste for him. Your lips were better this way–lush, and making an effort to sound out his name as he drew his hips back–not sneering because you had the displeasure of asking him a question.

Still, he drove forward with haste. Cotton on lace. Layers of separation. Anything else was too intimate for how he wanted to fuck you, rough and fast, caring only about himself and not about your poor neglected clit, swollen and pleading for his soft tongue, only to get rough, unmeasured thrusts. Messy, and unintentional, and denying. Until you made them work for you.

You used the meat of his shoulders as leverage. Digging your fingers in, holding tight as you rocked with him and raised your legs, wrapping them around his ass. The squeeze of your thighs, and pressure built from your locked ankles tipped you into a better position, and now, his entire length was flush to your clit, not simply passing over the top of it.

All of him was touching you, touching you, touching you. Trapping his cock between your stomachs, damp with reignited sweat. Back to rutting against one another at a desperate pace, chasing the tension, the high. The snap of his hips. Your stuttered groans for more. The anger, the hatred. Festering under the surface, bubbling in your insolence. Present in his teeth grazing your throat, nipping at the pulse, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting.

You’re gonna make me cum. Even Fantasy You said it in a lower register, reaching where the molten resentment laid dormant.

He found the same gravelly animosity and warned you, “I’m too close, I’m too close.”

You cradled him tighter, burying your heads in each other’s embrace. Muscles quivering from effort, burning with each grind, tensing under curious hands finding new places to cling to, curves to admire. Until they stayed put.

Nails bit flesh. Strong fingers dug painfully at bone. Mouths fell open. Eyes closed. Writhing flesh on fabric, and flesh, you trembled under him.

I’m–mm, Eddie–I’m cumming–

His thrusts faltered, jerking into short bursts, and his gracious moans went high and tight in his throat, spilling out as he panted, “You make me feel so good, baby. Fucked you so good. I can’t–I’m cumming–fuck–”

Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–

–”Fuck,” he babbled aloud.

The climax took him to the dark apartment. The overwhelming shadows of sleeping in the lonely living room on the flat couch under an extra blanket not yet broken of its factory starch, scratchy on the skin. His muscles were still tensed into him curling in on himself, lifting his aching neck and shoulders off the pillow for a few more pumps of his hand sliding over his slick shaft, spreading the warmth oozing towards his hip, no doubt tangling the curly thatch of hair above the base. In lip-biting silence, he stroked himself, not daring to breathe after he knew he said something out loud from his imagination. He listened. Eyes straining to see the hallway.

His bangs stuck to the heavy sweat on his forehead.

His entire body was heated beyond belief.

Anticipation sat heavy on his tongue.

But as he came down from his peak, nothing happened. He stayed lonely. His heartbeat pounded against the guitar pick sticking to his chest, and that was it. Now his head was cleared of distractions, and he could sleep. The fantasy was a fantasy, and in this reality, he wouldn’t do this again. It was too weird to muddy the multitude of negative feelings he had for you with.. whatever this was.

A release, that’s what this was.

Kicking the blanket off, he swung his legs to the side to sit up, socked feet softened by the plush carpet. He pressed his palm over the sticky substance dripping downward, and soaked it up to the best of his ability. And as his cum hit the fresh air, and his inhale was cut short as he smelled his shirt, he thought about the shower he needed. And he thought about the dark patch on his boxers. And he thought about his clothes in the dresser in the bedroom.

Looking down, he inspected his gray pants, and groaned.

They were ruined.

So, so ruined and obvious as to what he was doing.

There was no way he could go into there and grab new clothes for a shower. The thought of facing you after this, and you seeing him in this pathetic state–and God, if you knew it was because of you, and because he couldn’t control himself–he’d rather die than admit you did this to him.

Fuck.

Couldn’t even go to his own room for some fucking clothes so he could shower after working all day.

Yeah, that confirmed it. He fucking hated you.

Hated you even more when he thought about you sleeping on his mattress, wrapped snug in his bedsheets wearing only a t-shirt with nothing else to cover you, and his dick twitched again for that red lace he knew was discarded in the laundry basket.

“Fuck my life.”

[steviesbicrisis]

If Steve Harrington was a shirt:

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2

He has no right to be here.

He knows that.

He does.

Eddie watches as people pile into the church, all of them dressed to the nines. It's a Harrington affair through and through, and the sight of all these people that he knows Steve hates makes him feel sicker than he already is.

If he wasn't on the edge of crying he would have laughed at himself, like he had any right to judge anyone here. He's the one who dumped Steve. Perfect, wonderful, lovely Steve who just needed a few more years. He just needed to make sure the kids were safe until they graduated. But Eddie couldn't do it. He needed to leave, and Steve needed to stay.

So he ended it. Just like that. He ended it.

He hasn't seen him for three years. By all appearances, it was a good choice, the best thing he could have done for himself. Because against all fucking odds Eddie Munson ends up as a success. He's a star, a famous musician discovered in a shitty little bar. He somehow managed to actually live the dream he used to fantasize about.

He lives it up. He parties, he drinks, he fucks, he spends his early twenties being young and dumb like he always wanted.

And it's horrible. It's so horrible that it becomes hilarious to him. Because he knows why it's so bad. Of course he knows. But it's better this way, really. Because Steve deserved better than him anyway. He deserved someone he didn't run away, full of flimsy excuses of wanting to be out of the shitty town that made him. When the truth was he was scared. He was terrified about how much he loved him. Because what was he going to do when the day came when Steve realized he could do better?

Eddie wouldn't have been able to surivie it. So he left instead. Like the coward he was. He left so he could be miserable and famous but at least Steve could finally find someone who deserved him.

So it really was all for the best. That's what he tells himself, because if he doesn't he'd go insane wondering about what could have been. He has himself convinced that he made the right choice. Maybe not for himself, but at least for Steve.

He doesn't realize how bullshit all of that was until Dustin lets it slip. They're doing the normal routine. Dustin visits, Eddie spoils the shit out of him, and on the last day he asks about Steve. He always tries to keep it casual. Tries to never let his desperation to know what's happening shine through. But it always does, bad enough that Dustin can't help the pity in his eyes when he tells him.

Steve's getting married.

Eddie wasn't aware just how much words could hurt him until that moment. He'd been called every bad name under the sun, a queer, a freak, a fag, you name it and it's been said. But this is the first time someone else's words make him feel like he's dying.

He wasn't invited to the wedding. Why would he be? But he still found it. Because he's a glutton for self-punishment. He hadn't seen Steve for three fucking years, and he chooses to wait till his wedding day?

But it's too late for regret, he's already here. His eyes keep scanning the room, just waiting for him to show up. He probably looks like a creep, dressed in all black and fucking sunglasses, sitting right by the door. He's basically in a fucking disguise, mostly to stop Robin from finding him and kicking his ass.

Speaking of, his eyes widen at the sight of her. She's slipping out of a door to the side, quickly wiping at her eyes before joining the crowd of people. His eyes drift back to the door.

Eddie's on his feet before he knows what he's doing. It's stupid, maybe the stupidest thing he's ever done, but where Robin is, Steve is sure to follow.

And he's right. It leads to a small dressing room. And there he is. Just like that Eddie's in front of the only man he'll ever love. Or at least, behind him. They were alone, and Steve hadn't even noticed him yet, too busy adjusting his hair in the mirror.

He still has time to leave. Besides, he didn't come here to ruin everything. He didn't, really.

But he doesn't turn around. Instead, Eddie locks the door behind him. He takes off his stupid sunglasses and clears his throat to speak, but is immediately rendered speechless when Steve turns to look at him.

He's just as gorgeous as he remembered.

His eyes widened at the sight of him, mouth opening and closing like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Why would he? Eddie never reached out. He ignored the times that Steve did, always too ashamed of himself to face his own mistakes.

Eddie always expected Steve to lash out when he saw him, if he saw him. Lord knows he deserved it. But he doesn't. He just looks...sad. And those basset hound eyes are almost enough to bring Eddie to tears himself.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, voice quiet.

Eddie hadn't actually prepared anything to say. His plan was to watch the love of his life marry someone else than drink himself into a stupor at his hotel. He...he hadn't expected to end up here. But there are a million things he wants to say to him.

I'm here to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a coward. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough and I made it your problem. I haven't stopped thinking about you. Ever. There hasn't been a day that goes by when I don't regret leaving. And I thought, maybe, just maybe if I saw you move on with my own eyes I could let you go.

But none of that is what comes out of his mouth.

"Run away with me."

If Steve didn't look shocked to see him before he sure did now, "W-What?"

"Run away with me," He repeats. Because it's what he wants. It's what he needs. It's been three years of hell without him and Eddie can't do it anymore. He can't.

He hates that he's the cause of the tears springing up in Steve's eyes, but he can't take it back. He won't.

Steve looks away, eyes trained on the floor, "You can't do this to me Eddie. You can't."

But he is.

Eddie's made his choice. He was a fool to think he was capable of coming here without trying to steal him away. Of course this is where he'd end up. And he'll say anything to get him back. He doesn't care that he's too late. He doesn't care that this whole thing makes him a bigger piece of shit than he already was.

He'll be underhanded, he'll be dirty, he'll do anything to get Steve to leave with him, he doesn't fucking care. Because Steve Harrington is not going to get married today.

He waltzes right up to him. He grabs his chin and forces him to meet his eyes. He probably looks crazy, he feels crazy, "You don't love her like you love me."

He's never met her. He doesn't need to. The way Steve freezes up is all he needs to know that he's right.

He doesn't deny it, but he deflects, "Why are you doing this? You left me. Did you forget that part? I didn't end it. You did! A-And now what? We're just going to ride off into the sunset together? Like you weren't the one to just cut me out of your life-"

"Yes," Eddie interrupts. He feels calm, eerily so as he speaks, "We're riding off into the sunset together. Even though I don't deserve it. I never deserved you. And I was so fucking scared of when you would realize that. I let it eat away at me. So I left. Before you could do it to me. And I was wrong."

"Stop," Steve tries to step back, but Eddie won't let him. He wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close.

He can't stop talking, even if he wanted to, "I was so wrong Steve. And I've been miserable ever since. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I'll never stop thinking about you. Even if you tell me to go to hell and get hitched I'll just wait for a divorce. Because you are the only one for me. And it took me too long to say that out loud. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Stevie."

Steve weakly tried to push him away, but his heart wasn't in it, "Please stop."

But he can't, "I love you."

Steve's eyes are closed, a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay, but his voice comes out strong, "Eddie, I-I can't do this again. I can't. If you left me again I...I just can't."

Eddie can't help but wipe a few of the tears away for him, "Angel, look at me."

He waits for Steve to open his eyes. He looks so fucking beautiful that it hurts, especially since this may really be the last time he sees him again.

But he has one more trick up his sleeve, "Tell me you're not mine and I'll leave."

"W-what?"

"Tell me you're not mine. Say the words out loud and I'll let you go."

Steve stares at him. He's mad, beyond pissed that Eddie has the audacity to throw that in his face, but he's desperate. It was the last thing he said to him, murmured through the driver's side window of the van, seconds before he drove away.

I'm still yours, even if you don't want me anymore.

Eddie had cried the entire ride there after hearing that. And then a few days after for good measure. And here he is, completely ruthless at what he's willing to pull out, "You're mine Steve. You know you're mine."

It's such a fucked up thing to say, but it's true. But it's not the whole truth, "And I'm yours. I've always been yours. Tell me that's not true and I'll leave."

But Steve can't. He can't do it, just like Eddie had known he wouldn't. But what he hadn't expected was for him to surge up and kiss him.

It feels like he fell in love all over again, just from one simple kiss. Because it felt like magic was real and it decided to take on the form of Steve Harrington's lips. It was everything he had missed. Everything he had dreamed about. Eddie tangled a hand into his hair, helpless to do anything but kiss him back, harder and deeper. He wanted to be burned into Steve's memory for all eternity. He wanted him to always remember the moment that they came back to each other.

Because that's what this is. Eddie's certain, Steve was his, and he would never let him go again.

They only stop when there is a knock at the door, a muffled question asked that they can't hear over the sounds of their own breathing. It's enough to have them pulling away from each other, but they ignore it nonetheless.

Steve searches his face, one last test. Eddie can only guess how he looks right now, probably just as desperate and terribly hopeful as he felt. Whatever he's looking for, he finds it eventually.

Steve sighs, glancing toward the back of the room, "There's a window we can probably fit through. Because I'm sure as hell not going out there."

Now it's Eddie's turn to cry. Despite all of his confidence, the certainty that they were supposed to be together, he hadn't really expected it to work. But here they were, giggling with each other as they scurried out of a first-floor window, making a run for Eddie's car.

Eddie can't help but kiss him again before they get in, muttering against his mouth, "I love you so fucking much Stevie. I'm not going to fuck this up again. You won't regret it, I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

Steve grinned into the kiss, "You better."

There was still so much to talk about. Too much. And they'll fight and they'll scream and everything will get worse before it gets better. And Eddie's so fucking grateful to get the chance.

And for the first time in three years, he feels alive again.

[mattmaesonnatural]

Season 4: Chapter Six — The Dive

[farfaras]

First part to this prompt I posted the other day. This is gonna be eventual steddie (sorry, stonathan) and I’m really excited. Title from the song ‘nonsense’ by Sabrina Carpenter.

I think I got an ex but I forgot him

Part 1. (You’re here)

Part 2.

-

If he heard the words: Robin and in love, in the same sentence, with the melodious voice of one Dustin Henderson, one more time. Steve was sure he was gonna lose it.

Listen, he understands where he’s coming from. The kid just wants him to be happy. But he is! Dustin just doesn’t seem to get that. Happiness doesn’t only come in the form of a relationship. His teenage brain can’t comprehend that fact just yet. He wishes he did though, because he’s absolutely insufferable about getting Steve and Robin together.

No excuse or explanation he gives is good enough. Dustin still insists that he needs to try, that this is his chance at true love. Robin is kind of the love of his life, sure, but the platonic love of his life. His best friend, his soulmate, sister from another mister. All that jazz. Dustin doesn’t buy it though.

And Steve’s tried everything! He even told Dustin about that time in starcourt when they were high off his asses. Told him that he confessed his crush to Robin but that she rejected him, and that they were best friends now and nothing else. He obviously left out the part where Robin came out to him. He’s never gonna reveal Robin’s secret to anyone. The only answer he got was that “It doesn’t even matter now! Things could’ve changed! You never know.” Steve knew. He knew that he would never be into his best friend like that, and she would never be into him. Apparently they were the only ones who knew that.

Because of all the fuss Dustin was constantly making, other people started giving their input. Thanks Dustin. They didn’t get it either, didn’t believe they were just Platonic with a capital P. They made sure they knew it too, the whole party, Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie. Not Argyle, he said that the energy between Steve and Robin was intense but completely friendly, almost like they were twins. Steve liked Argyle. Of course he had to be miles away.

Most of their friends dropped the subject after the second time Steve or Robin explained the nature of their relationship. Even if they weren’t convinced, they didn’t push. Except for one person. Yep. Dustin.

Who was currently harassing Steve at his job. He didn’t know what else to tell him. If family video wasn’t empty he would just ignore him to do his job but there was nothing to do. He couldn’t even sweep or anything because everything was already done.

“Okay well! There must be a good reason why you guys haven’t gotten together!” Dustin exclaimed. He is so fucking stubborn.

“I already told you, Henderson. We’re. Just. Friends.” He knew it wasn’t gonna do anything. It was just a routine at this point.

Dustin’s expression changed to determination. “Nuh uh. There’s a reason there. And I’m gonna find out!” Shit. Could Dustin figure out Robin? He doesn’t think so. But he’s starting to panic. What if he finds out? Robin doesn’t deserve that. He’d feel like it was his fault, and everything would go to shit.

“Okay! Okay! There is a reason.”

“I knew it! You have to tell me.” Dustin demanded. Well, Steve hasn’t thought that much ahead. He needs to come up with something and he needs to do it fast if Dustin is gonna believe it.

“Look, I haven’t told anyone this before.” Building suspense, nice.

Then, an idea popped into his head and it seemed like the perfect response to all of this. Or maybe it’s the only thing he could think of in such short notice. “I’m gay.” He blurts out. It made sense in his head, really. Robin doesn’t get outed, but she can still look at the reaction she might get when she comes out. (It doesn’t hold any kind of truth at all. Not one Steve can see right now at least.)

Dustin is just staring at him. “What? I don’t, you’re not, since when?”

“Since I was born?” It sounds like a question. Steve didn’t prepare for follow up questions to the reply he literally just crafted.

“There’s no way you’re gay.” At least he didn’t seem disgusted or upset? Is this a good or bad reaction?

“Are you not okay with it?” Steve dared to ask.

“What?! Of course I’m okay with it, I’m just. I don’t care, but you don’t really seem gay. It’s hard to believe.” At least he’s okay with it. He’s still being stubborn.

“Way to stereotype, Henderson.”

Dustin sputters. “Wha- can you even blame me? Who could believe you?”

The next words that came out of Steve’s mouth didn’t actually ask for permission to be said. “My boyfriend can believe it.” He said it so matter of fact that he surprised himself a little. The way he usually took the route of action before thinking was gonna bite him in the ass some day. Would that be today?

“Boyfriend?!! And you didn’t tell me? You don’t have a boyfriend!” He accused Steve. “Who is it?”

Oh. Shoot. Quick, brain. Who could be his boyfriend? Someone his age, that was single, and could be believed to be in a gay relationship.

“It’s Jonathan.” Why did he say that? He just broke up with Nancy, that would just seem like a messy situation. Also is he literally just doing what he scolded Dustin for and stereotyping?

“But he just broke up with Nancy.” Hmm. Did Dustin read his mind or something.

“It’s new. That’s why I haven’t told anyone.”

“Not even Robin?” Oh, crap. Is he gonna have to tell this to people? Well, he should probably tell Jonathan first that he is apparently in a relationship with him now.

“Not even Robin.” Dustin beamed at this.

“You know, even if you and Jonathan are kind of a weird sounding couple, and this is surprising… if you’re happy then I’m happy for you, Steve.” That was weirdly sweet of Dustin.

“Thanks, bud.”

After that and renting a movie, Dustin was on his way. He gave Steve a hug goodbye and hopped on his bike to go home.

Steve had a lot of things to get done now. And he hoped that the first one went well because he didn’t really have a plan B if it didn’t. What had he gotten himself into?

First things first. Asking Jonathan to be his fake boyfriend.

At least for a while.

What could go wrong?

-

Step 1. Get Jonathan to be his fake boyfriend.

Step 2. Probably get Robin in on it?

He’s not sure about that one. This situation was kind of embarrassing, he’d rather just share his embarrassment with the one person who is absolutely necessary. Also Robin doesn’t seem like the type to lie to their friends. Even if it was harmless.

Step 2. Probably get Robin in on it?

Step 2. Make a game plan.

They’d probably need to talk about how this was gonna go. Get all their facts straight in case there were any questions, which there were going to be. Plan how long this was gonna be for. He was getting a bit ahead of himself, but there was no plan B.

Step 3. Hope it’s believable.

He was already outside of the Hopper-Byers home. This shouldn’t be hard, Jonathan is a pretty understanding guy. He wouldn’t judge Steve, or make fun of him. At least that’s what Steve hoped. They’ve been developing a friendship for a while. Which has been going surprisingly well. Fuck. Was this gonna mess it up?

He got out of his car and walked to the door, knocking. El answered the door, she gave him a smile and let him in.

“Is Jonathan home?” Him asking for Jonathan wasn’t a rare occurrence nowadays, so El just nodded and pointed to his room.

He knocked to make his presence known. “Hey, Jon?” He opened the door and stepped inside the room.

“Hiya. What’s up, Harrington?” Jonathan grinned at Steve. Ah. Shit. He didn’t look completely sober. Must’ve smoked something earlier.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you. I’d rather wait until you sober up though.” Jonathan just gave him a thumbs up.

“Happy to have company.” Steve knew Jonathan was having trouble dealing with the break up. They had been together for a while and he thought that those two were gonna beat all the odds and marry each other or something. Maybe they still could find their way back to each other someday. Right now though, it probably sucked.

Nancy was off to college, Jonathan stayed here in Hawkins doing community college. There was no way of knowing how Nancy was taking it, she barely called and when she did it was kinda cut and dry. Although Steve supposed that was a way of telling she wasn’t doing so good either.

They hung out, doing nothing in particular. Just talking, listening to music and Steve sobering him up.

“Did you say you wanted to talk about something?” Jon asked. He looked sober now. Or as sober as his perpetual stoner face could look.

“Yeah… I kinda did something stupid.”

“Don’t we all.” Cute. Was he trying to make him feel better? It would’ve worked if what he did wasn’t as stupid as it was.

“No, seriously. I think this is the dumbest thing I have done.” Understatement.

“It can’t be that bad.” Jon’s words weren’t aligned with his face because it looked like he was starting to worry.

“It has something to do with you too.” With those words, Steve definitely made Jonathan start to worry. “Hear me out first!”

Retelling the events from earlier was excruciating. Steve has never felt this embarrassed before. It sounded so dumb saying it out loud.

“You really couldn’t come up with anything else? Like oh I don’t know. Saying you don’t like Robin like that?” It was like he wasn’t even listening.

“I tried that thousands of times! He wouldn’t buy it!”

“Why haven’t you just dated anyone else? To prove that you’re not hung up on her?” Interesting line of questioning. Honestly, it’s been a long time since someone has made him feel anything at all. No girl caught his attention like before. Has the upside down messed him up so bad that he can’t form romantic connections anymore?

“I just, I don’t really. Taking a break from dating sounded good to me.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Jon didn’t believe him, whatever.

“Look I just panicked, spoke without thinking.”

“You know, I actually thought that Dustin was right about you and Robin before. But if you’re so determined to prove you’re not, to even come up with something like that.” Steve hated this. Was Jonathan getting a kick out of this?

“Are you amused? I’m kinda suffering here.” Steve lamented. “Can you just please help me?

“Oh god, what do you expect me to do? Pretend to date you to get Dustin off your back?” Yes. Please.

“Look! I only ask for a few weeks! It doesn’t have to be for long. Just, a few weeks of fake dating and then just say it didn’t work out and we decided to stay friends. All that cheesy stuff.” God, he was not being convincing at all.

Jonathan still looked skeptical. But at least he was considering it now. “I’ll owe you, big time. Whatever favor you want.” Steve offered.

Jon looked resigned now. He huffed out a breath. “I never thought my first boyfriend was gonna be Steve Harrington.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I always pictured a nerd or maybe a stoner.” He was confused now. Was Jonathan? “Yes, Steve. You should probably know if we’re gonna do this. I also like guys. And I’m assuming you’re okay with it, considering what you just asked.”

“Of course! Thanks for telling me. I’m glad you could trust me.” He was being genuine. Even if Steve was a little surprised, and now felt even more guilty about words he used in the past to insult Jonathan. All the past apologies seemed insufficient. Even so, he was happy that their friendship could develop into this.

“So? How is this gonna work? You really owe me now, you know.”

“Trust me, I know.”

So their friendship wasn’t ruined. Who knows? Maybe this could make it stronger.

[taintedcigs]

dancing with our hands tied part II — s.h

you can find part I here

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!, ANGST, making out, swearing, drinking, alcohol mention, JEALOUSY!!! eddie's a bit of an asshole i am sorry, but so is steve sometimes!! and so is reader? idk!

summary: in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex. (wc: 8k+)

a/n: this is part 2 of this fic here !! pls make sure to read it before this!! anddd, im sorry for how confusing the first part was, BUT HERE'S THE HIDEOUT INCIDENT!! and i didn't use POVs this time and i kinda gave up on dates ugrhh. also i have a little bonus content at the end even tho its so a lil silly!!! also did not proof-read this, pls ignore any mistakes or ill scream n d*e

Friday, February 7, 1986 || The Hideout.

Steve stole a glance in your direction, and immediately realized the mistake he had made. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why did you have to be so fucking perfect? Why did you have to have the most contagious laugh that immediately brought a warm smile to his lips? 

Steve leaned against the bar as he watched you further, reveling at the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you gave Robin a giggle, nose scrunching as you mimicked whatever story you were telling, drawing him in without even having a clue on the effect you had on him.

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, his heart pounded inside of his ribcage when you looked at him like that, as if your eyes were smiling at him. He held your gaze, giving you a subtle nod. 

God, if Steve didn’t tell you how he felt about you soon, he was sure he was going to explode.  

He turned back to the bar, head filled with the idea of opening up to you, he had to do it soon or else—

“Harrington!” Eddie beamed, interrupting his thoughts as he grabbed onto Steve’s shoulders, “You mind helpin’ me out?” He grinned, causing Steve’s brows to furrow. 

“Can you put in a good word for me?” Eddie muttered, hand pointing toward the booth, “What are you talking about?” Steve muttered, his eyes following him.

“Y/N.” Steve hoped to God that Eddie didn’t notice the shock in his eyes, blinking quickly as he tried to control the jealousy building within him. 

“I swear I’ve had the biggest crush on her,” Eddie exclaimed. Steve couldn’t help the way his face fell; he wondered if Eddie could notice it, but by the way he grinned at you, Eddie probably had no fucking clue about his feelings for you. 

“Since when?” Steve sounded bitter, chewing at the inside of his mouth to stop himself, “Uh, since forever, dude,” Eddie said, chuckling.

“Put in a little good word for me, yea? I know you guys are close and shit,” Eddie gushed as he squeezed Steve’s shoulders again, and Steve was tense now, his entire body almost burning with rage and resentment. 

Maybe it was wrong for Steve to be petty about this; maybe it wasn’t fair to you that he spent the rest of the night ignoring you; maybe it wasn’t right for him to act this way, but Steve had been on this rodeo before. 

He was always the second choice, and he knew that he was never going to be someone’s priority. Because of that, his reaction was warranted; at least that’s what he believed. Ignoring you completely while he bitterly watched Eddie make moves on you was the only way he could cope with it. 

And it was driving him crazy, knowing that Eddie was getting under your skin with the advice he got from Steve and learning everything about you from him. 

At first, it was all just some passive aggressiveness, until it turned into something bigger, until you finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

Because there stood Steve, across from the gang’s booth, leaning over the wall as he whispered something into Tammy’s ear—Steve’s ex.

With her shiny blonde hair and her big eyes, she threw him a hearty giggle, sticking to his side, while Steve barely blinked, allowing her to drool all over him.

You had no right to be jealous, not when Steve had no clue about your feelings, not when Steve didn’t owe you a thing, but you couldn’t help the frown on your face as he ignored you all night and was fine with stupid Tammy Thompson being all over him.

Your throat burned with the number of shots you took, you could never handle your tequila, but the numbness was exactly what you needed. Your mind was getting dizzier with Steve being pushed back into your thoughts.

You could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with each sip, gaze barely holding over Steve’s direction anymore when Eddie had been keeping you company the whole night.

To think Steve was supposed to be your close friend felt like a joke now. The more he was with the blondie, the more you felt your stomach churning, gaze drifting toward Eddie to keep yourself from looking in his direction.

You felt desperate.

Steve probably saw you as the girl who was wrapped around his finger, the girl who followed him around like a puppy. Maybe that’s why he was ignoring you, trying to keep you from clinging to him.

You fidgeted in your seat; not being able to get up and tear her off of him was killing you, and  your head was pounding because of the amount alcohol in your system.

It was getting harder to ignore the jealousy that gnawed at your insides. 

Eddie didn’t seem to notice anything, but Steve did.

With each shot you took, with each step you took closer to Eddie, Steve couldn’t help the sharp pain he felt in his chest, the same rage of jealousy gnawing at him as well. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it, too, so he buried it deeper and deeper until he could make sure those feelings for you were impossible to reach.

You were going to be dating Eddie, and Steve needed to get over you as fast as he could.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t mind the attention coming from his ex.

By the time Steve arrived back at the booth, Nancy and Jonathan were already gone, you were in the bathroom—possibly puking your guts out, and Robin was getting ready to leave.

“What the fuck happened here?” He asked, concern washing over his face. “She drank a bit too much,” Robin mumbled, knowing how much Steve cared about you.

“You should maybe check on her, yea?” She gave Steve an all-knowing look, causing him to shrug.

“I can’t—” Robin interrupted him with a death glare.

“I would, but I have to go or my mom will actually kill me this time,” She groaned, saying her goodbyes before leaving in a hurry. 

“Dude, I gotta bail too,” Eddie puffed his cheeks as he put on his leather jacket. “What?” Steve asked, baffled.

“She’s wasted!” He exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up quickly, causing Eddie to shrug, “She’s probably puking her guts out right now, she needs you.” Steve’s eyes narrowed; he couldn’t believe that Eddie would even think about leaving you alone in a condition like this. 

“Gross, dude,” Eddie said, making a face as he cringed, causing Steve to roll his eyes. 

“Real fuckin’ mature, Munson.”

“You drop her home, man, I’m too fuckin’ hammered for all of this.” He gave Steve’s shoulder another tight squeeze; this time Steve was sure his blood was boiling, his eyes darkening with each word Eddie spoke.

This asshole had the audacity to use him to try to date you, and he couldn’t even fucking treat you, right? Steve shook off his thoughts before he could do something he knew he would regret.

Eddie was his best friend, and he could never let his feelings for you get in the way of you actually being happy.

“Are you going to get a cab?” Steve asked, “Yeah,” Eddie muttered mindlessly.

“Then give me your jacket.” Steve’s tone was now cold, almost demanding, and his demeanor changing within seconds was throwing Eddie off, 

“No fuckin’ way,” Eddie chuckled mockingly, he didn’t notice the serious gaze Steve holds.

“Dude, your house is five minutes away, you’ll be fine, just give me your jacket,” He demanded again.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Eddie spat.

“Because you asshole, it’s the middle of February and Y/N is wearing a fucking dress, it’s the least you could do for leaving her like that.”

“Why don’t you give her yours?” Steve didn’t know how to control the rage coursing through his veins.

“Do you see me wearing a fucking jacket?” Eddie was sure he had never seen Steve like this, with those veins in his forehead visible as he could feel his fists clench. Eddie’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Steve’s bizarre behavior.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie mumbled before taking off the jacket with a few huffs escaping from his lips.

“There, you happy, man?” Eddie hissed, almost tossing the jacket toward Steve, “Fucking ecstatic,” Steve replied with an angry smirk.

Steve sighed before he made his way to the bathroom. Not knowing what was waiting for him inside, he knocked on the door hesitantly and asked, “Y–you okay?” The shakiness in his voice was exposing him.

A faint ‘Yeah’ was all he heard before you unlocked the door.

And there you laid on the dirty bathroom tiles, your hair disheveled, make-up smudged, and you could barely get your head up from the toilet seat.

Steve’s heart sank, guilt settling in his insides again like an old friend. He knew he couldn’t always take care of you, and he knew that you’d be with Eddie soon, but he couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of guilt when all of this could’ve been avoided if he was just there for you. 

And his mind was still reeling about the fact that Eddie dared to leave you like this.

Would the fucker even be able to treat you right?

“Want me to help you?” He asked, hands itching to reach out and hold you, but you dismissed him like it was nothing, like he didn’t mean anything to you anymore, and it had only been an hour since Steve had learned that Eddie was into you. 

“No,” Even when you were this messed up, you held onto your grudge, shutting out any feelings of understanding or empathy toward Steve, even though he was only trying to help you out.

“I can help, to, you know—hold your hair and stuff,” He stuttered, he had never been this nervous around you.

You flushed the toilet as you attempted to get up, “I’m not—I didn’t throw up,” Your words were slurred.

“If you… if you feel like throwing up, I can—”

“No!” You exclaimed a bit too loudly, throwing him a cold stare. “I’m just trying to help you, Y/N.” His tone sounded disappointed, but you could care less when he had acted like a jerk most of the night.

“I don’t need your help,” You snapped while flushing the toilet, trying to stand still, your head growing dizzier each time you moved.

Steve breathed a heavy sigh and said, “Here.” He ignored your protests as he helped you up, warm hands were tight around your waist. If you weren’t this embarrassingly drunk and a huge mess, you would’ve started getting your hopes up.

But not after today, not after he ignored you to be with Tammy Thompson all fucking night.

“I got it!” You spat, trying to free yourself from his hold. “Let me help, please.” This was the most genuine he had been tonight, his voice almost pleading as he threw you that pitiful look, and you hated it.

You hated being the one Steve pitied and not the one he pined after, but you swallowed your pride when you realized you couldn’t even walk properly.

You barely questioned everyone’s absence when your mind was filled with Steve. 

And once he dragged you out of the bar, you couldn’t help the petty words that escaped your lips; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

“You can get back to your girlfriend now,” You muttered bitterly, your voice clear. There was venom in your tone, and your grudge was poison with the way it seeped into your words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve sighed, and you lightly pushed him off of you as you stood still on your own.

“Does the name Tammy Thompson ring a bell?” You narrowed your eyes. You wish you could tape your mouth right now and stop yourself from spilling so much of your feelings to Steve.

“What does that have to do with anything, Y/N?” His tone remained cold now; your heart was in his hands, and he was squeezing it each time he distanced himself from you. 

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Each time you dismissed him, you unknowingly tore open the old wound in his heart, keeping it fresh. 

“If—if you wanted to take care of me so badly, then why did you ignore me all fuckin’ night?” Your face heated with anger, and your tone was tinged with frustration. 

“Should go back to fuckin’ blondie over there,” You muttered under your breath, avoiding eye contact with him, unable to conceal the bitterness you were holding onto. 

“Oh my god,” The realization dawned on Steve at a crawl.

You were jealous of him.

“You are jealous,” Steve couldn’t help the annoying smile on his lips, much to your dismay. You were jealous of him, and as selfish as it was, it was amusing to him. 

“What?” You snapped, eyes narrowing, “I’m not jealous—” The look Steve threw at you was enough to break you. “Jerk,” You mumbled under your breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, it dooooeees,” He said, dragging his words out to annoy you further, as he took a step closer to you, almost closing the distance that he had been keen on protecting the entire night. 

He was frustrating, so fucking frustrating, spinning your head faster than all the booze in your system. You couldn’t help the way your eyes grew mellow when he looked at you like that, you wanted to take all of him in. 

This entire day was beginning to grow tiring, from Eddie’s sudden interest in you to Steve’s emotional whiplash, and now, since you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for one goddamn second, he was aware of your unnecessary jealousy. 

“I’m not doin’ this with you,” You slurred again, hands wrapping around yourself almost as an attempt to conceal yourself from him, he could see right through you, and it was making you feel things you were not ready for. 

“W—where is Eddie?” Those were the worst three words that could come out of your mouth. Just when Steve was basking in the glory and the hope that you were jealous of him, you decided to bring up Eddie, and with just his name rolling off your lips, you were re-opening his wounds.

Why not him?

Why was it never Steve?

Steve gulped; physically, he wasn’t sure what step to take would be better, to put a distance between you and him or to put a distance between him and Eddie. 

And even though he knew he would regret doing this like there’s no tomorrow, even though Eddie doesn’t fucking deserve this decency, or you, Steve decided that he can’t do this to his friend. 

“At least he’ll take me home!” You exclaimed so confidently that Steve couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped his lips. 

“Yeah, I’m sure he would.” Steve quipped, grinning. He was mocking you again, unaware of your growing frustrations.

“What the hell is your problem?” You narrowed your eyes. “Unlike you, he didn’t ignore me all night to be with his ex, and he gave me his jacket.” Steve chuckled at that, again, frustrating you more and more, each time he opened his mouth. 

With an irritated frown, you shot a sharp glance at him and asked, “Is everything a fucking joke to you?” 

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” You crossed your arms against your chest, “You don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself!” You snapped, not even knowing know why you uttered those words, you knew better than anyone that Steve wasn’t selfish; he never once put himself in front of his friends, but you were aiming to hurt him, and he was ready to bite back now. 

“You are so fucking ridiculous, I—I can’t do this with you,” You murmured dejectedly, not being able to help it when your voice cracked; he was so embedded in your brain that you couldn’t form coherent words with the space he took up in your mind.

“You have no idea what you’re even talking about,” He whispered, shaking his head. If only you knew.

“Did you actually stop to think about how shitty it makes me feel when you give me these stupid emotional whiplashes?” You asked, and if you dared to get closer to him, you might’ve lost the purpose of the argument, your gaze drooping down to his lips every few seconds.

Steve stared at you blankly; you were unable to make anything out of his expressions, he looked at you as if you never existed to him, on a fucking whim.

Your lips tremble, a telltale sign that you would break soon.

His no response spoke volumes to you, “Of course you didn't.” You gave him a dry chuckle, filled with bitterness, and turned on your heel to walk away from him.

The slight breeze of February air hit you harder than Steve’s words.

He sighed a heavy breath when he heard you gasp at the coldness, hand reaching out to your arm before he spun you to meet his gaze again,

“Watch it, Y/N.” The words slipped past his lips forcefully, his chest puffing down with each breath he took. He was so fucking close that one move from you would change everything.

The tension was palpable; unspoken words and emotions hung in the space between the two of you.

And there it was.

There were his emotions again, filling his gaze quicker than you realized. If you weren’t this shitfaced, you could possibly do something about the ever so slightly distance between you, your foreheads almost touching. But your mind was spinning with endless possibilities. “Or what?” You teased; maybe it wasn’t the right time to do so, but you wanted to push him, make him break, the same way he did to you.

How far was he willing to take it?

His grip on your arm tightened; it wasn’t harsh, but tight enough to send shivers down your spine. And you couldn’t determine a single thing he was thinking again, eyes locked with each other without a single word being spoken.

You could sense his mind wandering off to find you a proper answer, trying to pick his words carefully, but you didn’t want that.

You wanted to know what he was thinking—what was going through his mind when he looked at you like you meant something to him, like he was ready to risk it all.

It was momentarily, but you could see it all—the sudden flint of confidence that didn’t waver enough to be convincing.

It wasn’t long until he returned to the cold demeanor he had been reserving just for you. “No, you’re not fucking worth it,” He muttered, taking a step back before he bit the inside of his cheek—hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded his senses, but he could care less; if he hadn’t done it, he would’ve poured his heart out.

He would’ve risked it all just to see those sparks in your eyes, but with five words, he had managed to kill it, slitting all the possibilities with the sharpest knife he could find.

“W–what?” Your voice cracked, and you fucking hated it. You hated being this weak in front of him, with tears ready to spill every time you had an argument, even over the smallest things.

“Just–Fuck! Look at you,” He didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to burn this bridge with you, but he knew he had to for his own sake and for you to be happy with Eddie.

“You—you’re all over the place, always relying on others to take care of you, just one fucking night I didn’t baby you…” He shook his head. “And you act like I’m fuckin’ insane for doing that!” His voice was calm and collected, and that was what was throwing you off. How could he relay your insecurities in front of you, crush your heart to pieces, and pretend as if what he was saying was okay?

You couldn’t help it when tears flooded your vision. You tried not to let them get to you, but the alcohol in your system was far too dizzying and hormonal to stop your emotions from flowing. You didn’t know why he decided to utter those words, but it hurt.

Each of the gazes you shared and each word that transpired, deepened the wound in your insides that you didn’t even know existed, your feelings were at the surface, and you were vulnerable at his expense.

But Steve didn’t care. 

“I—I can’t believe you’d say that,” You whispered, blinking the tears away when you took a step back, the hurt subsiding when it transformed into rage. “Fuck you,” You spat, your words weren’t slurred this time, but your vision was blurry again, barely taking another look at him when you started to walk away.

And he didn’t call out after you; he didn’t even flinch. 

You were all alone.

You let your emotions overtake you as you started sobbing, sniffling every once in a while as you tried to comfort yourself. 

Eddie could drop you home, you tried to reassure yourself, you knew there was a payphone close to The Hideout, if you could just walk a few more minutes, you could just call him—but holy fuck, did your feet hurt. You cursed yourself for not listening to Nancy when she told you to wear more comfortable shoes.

You were wobbly now, tears pouring down your cheeks, your smudged mascara distorting your view further, and it was dark out, so fucking dark that it started to scare you.

Your mind reeled more and more, and your chest felt trapped with each shallow breath you took. Eddie would’ve never uttered those words to you, your angry mind decided, Eddie wouldn’t flirt with girls—his exes—in front of you.

Eddie would never give you this sort of emotional whiplash.

And most importantly, Eddie would never leave you like this.

You felt so tired, just wanting to sleep, but you knew you couldn’t turn back now. Your feet were aching, but you’d rather they blistered than see Steve again.

You sat on the ground, relief washing over you when you got rid of your shoes, and the dirty, cold concrete ground felt so comforting that you nuzzled into the leather jacket, arms wrapped around yourself to provide more warmth as you sniffled into it.

You’re not sure if you can ever be with Steve anymore.

Sure, you could still be friends because you did have many big, stupid fights—granted, none of them were like this; this was different. 

This was the first big fight you had with him since you realized your feelings for him, and it hurt.

Steve was not who you thought he was.

He was never going to love you.

He only saw you as his friend, and right now, even that was questionable.

And there you were, pathetically pining after him while he was drooling all over other girls, chasing him down and making a mess of yourself just for him to leave you like this.

You sniffled again; Eddie would never, and he actually was interested in you.

God, how you wished he could find you now, take you home, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he tried to mend what Steve broke.

You knew it was selfish, but it was the only way.

Maybe if Eddie could make you forget him completely, he could remind you that you weren’t a mess and that you were perfect.

Your vision blurred again, hot tears were stinging your eyes, but the ground was so comfortable.

Steve was right, you were a mess, you were a huge fucking mess, and you were pathetic, but you didn’t care as you hugged yourself further, head falling into your lap as you let yourself fall more and more into the deep pit of despair.

And that’s the last thing you remembered.

You didn’t remember Steve running after you as he realized how much he fucked up; you don’t remember Steve seeing you curled up into a ball, almost falling asleep.

You don’t remember Steve lifting you up and carrying you before anything bad happened to you.

You don’t remember the apologies Steve muttered into your ear on the ride home, how he checked every few seconds to make sure you were okay, his hands never leaving yours as he wanted to punch himself for even putting you in a position like this.

You don’t remember Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ear when he tucks you in, and you don’t remember him almost staying till the morning to make sure you were okay and didn’t get sick. 

The last thing you remember was the fight. 

You woke up the next morning with a groan, and you were sure no painkiller was going to help the pounding in your head. 

You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked in the mirror, your hair was an absolute mess, the top that adorned your neck was covered with alcohol stains, your make-up was smudged, and you only had one earring.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You sighed, taking off the dirty clothes as you put on a comfy shirt, your room was as messy as you were, bag on the floor while its contents spilled out, and… a leather jacket?

Slowly but surely, last night’s events came to you in a blur. The last thing you remembered was the fight you had with Steve. 

Both of you spewed some hurtful things at one another, and that’s the clearest you could remember it.

You examined the leather jacket sprawled over the floor, and your brows knitted together, Steve didn’t even have a jacket on last night; you remembered because Robin made fun of him for not bringing a jacket in February when Steve whined about being cold.

You read the tagline; E.M. 

Oh god.

Was it… Eddie? Did he drop you off when you were embarrassingly drunk?

Was Eddie the one who took care of you the whole night while Steve threw you away like a piece of paper?

You remembered the hurtful things he said to you; your mind was too jumbled up to even recall the nice things he said to you afterward.

You knew you have to talk to him, mend your friendship, but all you could think about now was Eddie, how he took care of you, and how he was there for you. 

That day you called him, and he told you in detail how wasted you were and how he had to carry you home. You made up with Steve afterward too, both of you muttering apologies to each other as you promised not to let stupid things get out of hand. 

And that day, Eddie took you on your first date with him. 

NOW

“Buckley, you mind ringing these up for me?” You beamed, throwing her an innocent smile, your eyes wandering off to Steve’s absence next to her.

You gave her the ‘Evil Dead II’ and ‘Dirty Dancing’ VHS tapes nonchalantly, waiting to ask her about Steve.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up, “What kind of a double-feature is this supposed to be, huh?”

“A very fun one,” You said with a slight smirk, handing her a couple of bills.

You scanned the store, he was nowhere to be seen, of fucking course. “Harrington running from me again?” You almost cursed yourself for saying that out loud, but you couldn’t help it, something snarky would’ve slipped out eventually.

You saw Robin almost freeze, her mouth hanging open as her brain short-circuited to find a quick answer.

“I—It’s fine,” You mumbled. “Just tell him I would really like to talk to him. Once his weird tantrum is over?” You commented; it was snarky again, but he deserved it.

Five days had passed since the party, and Steve had been avoiding you like the plague, not returning your phone calls, and sneaking out the back each time you visited Family Video, and it was driving you crazy.

Determined to talk to him, you spent the last few days re-evaluating everything. You wanted to ask him what the fuck he meant—was everything that led to you dating Eddie a lie?

And did Steve never think to tell you this, even once the two of you broke up? His audacity was pissing you off, more than ever now that he was avoiding you.

Then small things started coming back to you in a flash, like the drunken confession you made to him last week.

But you were still clueless about The Hideout. You racked your brain away, but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. Even the fight with Steve was so vaguely burned into the back of your brain, you simply didn’t want to remember it, or the hurtful words he uttered to you that night.

You had decided to forgive and forget, had no intention of going back to that head space, until recently, when Steve decided to blurt out that he was the one in Hideout, leaving without explaining anything further.

You tried to fish it out of Robin, but she acted clueless, and you tried everything you could do to reach out to Steve, but it was useless.

So that only left you with one thing.

Eddie.

Eddie had told you the day after The Hideout incident that it was he who took you home, detailing everything that happened that night.

You were basically breathless by the time you made it to Eddie’s trailer, knocking on the door, until it hit you.

What the fuck were you doing? Knocking on Eddie’s door when he had no fucking clue what was happening, when he had no idea you and Steve had kissed.

When he had no idea that you knew.

You shook your head in embarrassment as you turned around, about to leave, coincidentally and to your dumb luck, that’s when Eddie had decided to open the door.

He stood speechless when he saw you, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “Y/N?” He asked, tone barely audible.

“Hi.” You muttered, accepting Eddie’s invitation as he stood aside for you to enter, and you squeezed by him with a quick ‘thank you’

“Look, I know you’re wondering why the fuck your ex showed up at your door but—”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He interrupted

“I do have an idea,” He smirked slightly, causing you to throw him a confused look, you were about to open your mouth, ask a million questions, but he didn’t let you.

“I know everything,” He muttered, and you couldn’t decide his facial expressions. “Steve told me about all of it.”

“And I already told him there was no bad blood between me and you and that it was fine that you guys kissed—”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“What?!?” You exclaimed, not expecting Steve to babble about it to Eddie when he had been avoiding you.

“Look, honey, Steve was all blabbering and shit when he came to see me, tellin’ me all this shit about how much he liked you and how sorry he was,” Eddie said with a concerned look.

“And I told him it was all fine, Christ—when did we even date, like 2 years ago?” You didn’t answer him and he sighed. 

“I always knew the two of you had something for each other, I mean, why’d you think I got so jealous anytime you guys hung out together alone? He was definitely—“” He rambled for what felt like minutes, and you were quick to interrupt it, eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to process what the fuck was going on.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, “That’s… uhm– good to know, but not what I came in here for,” You muttered, eyes wandering to the ground.

He threw you a quizzed look, brows knitted up together, “I–I wanted to ask you about something,” You gulped.

“Well, spill it out, sweetheart, you’re makin’ me all nervous and shit.” He gave you a dry chuckle.

“What–what exactly happened that day?” You knew he was going to ask what the fuck you were talking about, so you cut him off before he got a chance to speak.

“At The Hideout… Two years ago.” You could see Eddie almost panic visibly, he didn’t expect it, and did it really matter now, after everything?

“Shit… why won’t you ask Steve about all this?” He scratched his head, it was all awkward, you coming here, asking him something that was two years ago, Steve telling Eddie about the kiss while refusing to acknowledge you… 

It was embarrassing, really, and with each passing minute, a rage fueled inside of you. Sick of the hiding, and the lies. You just wanted the truth, and for Steve to not run at the first inconvenience.

“I would, if he didn’t avoid me like a fucking child,” You spat under your breath, causing Eddie to chuckle. He shook his head again.

“Right, so… I’m assuming since it was two years ago, you won’t be mad at me, right?” He asked, an innocent look spreading over his face, almost fearing as he saw how angry you were at Steve.

You almost rolled your eyes, these two idiots were making your blood boil. “Just want the truth, Munson, then I’ll be gone, I promise.”

“Right!” He chuckled nervously before telling you everything that happened that night.

You called Eddie right after you found his jacket, blabbering like an idiot as you thanked him a million times. While Eddie had no fuckin’ clue what had happened, he was still trying to get over his own hangover, but he wasn’t going to completely shut you down, not when he wanted you this badly, not when you were in the grasp of his hands.

As soon as you hung up, promising him a date, he called Steve, and he didn’t even have to beg him to play along; Steve was just... okay with it.

Steve knew the moment Eddie told him about his little crush that the two of you had no chance and that Steve would only be a little thought in the back of your mind, while Eddie would be the first choice, because why wouldn’t he?

Why would you choose him over Eddie?

And with all the sudden information flooding your mind, you weren’t sure how to react, how to vent all these emotions running through your veins, so you did it the only way you knew how; anger.

You checked the clock; 10.08

Steve’s shift should’ve ended long ago by now, you barely mumbled a goodbye to Eddie when you left, mind focused on one thing.

Steve.

You arrived at his door with your lips tightening and your jaw clenching, you weren’t going to give up now; you were going to talk to him. Now or never.

You knocked on the door so hard that you were sure your knuckles were bruising, and Steve was baffled when he opened the door, mouth almost agape as he looked at the sight in front of him.

“You know what you are? A fucking coward,” You mumbled, not giving him a second to process anything as you shook your head. 

“You are a selfish fucking coward! Do you think you can make decisions for other people? You think you can just take their choices away and pretend like everything is fucking fine!” Steve didn’t utter a word when you let it all out, your words meshing with each other, and you could feel your blood boiling each time you spoke, but it was… weirdly relieving.

All that pent up anger was finally coming out.

“And you told Eddie?!? You fucking talked to him but didn’t have the guts to even face me! Five days, five fucking days, I followed you around, you fucking jerk!” You spat, your eyes flashed with anger as your face came closer to him, he didn’t even flinch, eyeing you curiously, those deep honey glazed eyes were warming the more he looked at you.

And Oh God, was his gaze inviting, so warm, but you couldn’t soften up… not when you still had so much to say.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for me? No—no… Fuck that! I don’t even give a fuck if it's embarrassing, I’ve been–I’ve been living a lie and you–it’s your fault…” You mumbled the last part, chest heaving, when your fiery gaze met his, he was itching to talk, and you could tell.

“That—that’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He muttered, causing your eyes to narrow, “Look why don’t we just go inside and have an adult conversation? No need for these tantrums—” And that hit a nerve. 

“Don’t,” You muttered, closing your eyes, the rage bubbling up to the surface again, gnawing at your skin, waiting to welcome you.

“Don’t you fucking dare to tell me to have an ‘adult conversation’ when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague!” You exclaimed angrily, face heating with anger, Steve nodded, understandingly. He didn’t mean to sound like a jerk, he just wanted to talk to you. He had been debating what to do these last five days, and shutting you out during that was obviously stupid, but that’s how he handled everything, wallowing it all until he chewed his emotions, keeping them hidden.

“What was I supposed to do?” He asked, almost defeated, and it made you want to chuckle, he was sending you over the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” It wasn’t a question; it was stupid for Steve to even attempt to open his mouth.

“You could have talked to me!” You took a deep breath; your anger wasn’t going to help, and if you didn’t talk to Steve as soon as possible, your head might have exploded.

You sighed as Steve stood aside, leading you to the living room, and your anger subsided with each step you took. The familiarity of the house was engulfing you, and you wanted to scream. 

What if Steve had told you this would change nothing?

What if this was it for the two of you?

Your head was swirling, and it hurt, both physically and emotionally. It was taking a toll on you and Steve could sense it.

“What—what really happened… that day?” You asked, voice barely audible as you avoided his gaze.

Steve sighed as he took a seat next to you on the couch, hand itching to lay on your thigh, squeeze it to make you feel comfortable, just so you would look at him, but he resisted it, hand flexing as he placed it between the two of you.

“You–you remember our fight?” He mumbled, causing you to nod. “We both said some stupid shit to each other—”

“Well, you started it—” You gazed up at him, and this time he threw you a look, causing you to close your mouth as if to signal him to continue.

“And—and you left… and the second you did, I just felt this horrible fucking pit in my stomach, I could never—I could never leave you like that,” His voice was shaking, hands flexing again as he inched closer to you.

“I found you on the street, Y/N, almost passed out, and I lost my goddamn mind for leaving you alone—even for a second, I ca—I can’t fucking imagine what I would even do if anything happened to one–one fucking strand of your hair—just the thought makes me sick to my stomach—Jesus.” He muttered, face still toward you as you could trace it now, the worried lines etched onto his forehead, a frown taking upon his usual plump lips, voice cracking as you could sense it, the utter worry and desperation in his voice. 

You couldn’t open your mouth, words failing you as you opted out to hold his hand instead, a small gesture, but one that made Steve’s entire stiffness disappear. One touch from you warming him up immediately.

“I took you home as fast as I could—I tucked you in, made sure you didn’t get sick, and then I left.” 

“Why?” You asked, meekly.

“Why did you let me believe it was him? Why did you ignore me that night?”

“It–it doesn’t matter now,” He mumbled, and your brows furrowed again, fury still locked up inside of you.

“It fucking does!” You snarled, insides burning with anticipation and anger.

“Stop being a fucking coward,” You yelled, you didn’t want to scream at his face, but he left you with no choice. If you wanted to talk to him, you had to get some things out of him, no matter how much it angered you.

“Just tell me, Steve, full transparency, I want it all out.”

Steve’s silence caused a groan out of you, “If you don’t, I’m gonna leave… for good,” You whispered. 

You were bluffing; you weren’t going to go anywhere without getting some closure, but Steve didn’t know that, and he had never seen you this riled up, so he sighed when you got up.

“I didn’t want to lose you!” He got up after you, staring at your back for a full minute until you turned around to meet him, a quizzed look overtaking your features.

“What?”

“God! I wanted to—Shit. I wanted to tell you about how I felt, but then Eddie came and he told me all about how he had feelings for you, and, uh, I just panicked— so fucking hard. I knew you would have chosen him, and I had that rejection one too many fuckin’ times, and I—I knew I couldn’t handle it from you!” He exclaimed, breath ragged as his brown orbs looked at you with such sympathy that you wanted to drop everything and kiss him, tell him that he would always be your first choice.

“I knew you would choose him and—” 

“I didn’t want to be a second choice again, Y/N, I was so fucking scared—” You shook your head.

“Steve you—god, you have no fucking clue about anything,” You chuckled dryly, interrupting him.

“When you ignored me for Tammy that night, when you told me that I wasn’t ‘worth it’ that’s when I decided to contain my feelings for you, I knew you didn’t like me for anything more than friends—I always thought we had a ‘will they won’t they’ kind of relationship but that night, confirmed it for me,” You looked away, almost ashamed, face burning up.

“I felt so fucking desperate—like you wanted to push me away like I was an idiot girl who was clinging onto you, and now everything is just so confusing that I don’t even know what is going on.” Your hands ran through your hair.

“But you were and will always be my first choice,” You didn’t mean to smile, but it just appeared, anger washing away. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You muttered, and Steve’s entire demeanor changed, his body relaxing as he realized how much of an idiot he had been.

“What?” He asked, baffled, a small smile overtaking his lips before you could say another word. 

“Yeah,” You murmured, taking a step closer to him, 

“So… we’re both idiots, huh?” He asked, basking in the way you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes as your warm aura engulfed him.

“Hmmm… I’d say it’s more you than me,” You mumbled, scrunching your nose, as Steve huffed playfully, inching closer and closer to you. You didn’t know where this took the two of you, but your mind was so busy when he was standing this close to you.

One strand of his hair fell onto his forehead, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through them, kiss every inch of his face, run your lips along his soft ones, feel his calloused hands on your curves, grabbing desperately, meek grunts leaving his lips, both of you breathless.

And that’s exactly what you did—without a care, you closed the distance between the two of you with an annoyed huff, fingers running through his shiny hair. 

His hands were quick to land on your hips, grabbing them like he was afraid of you slipping away, once again. And it all felt so easy and familiar that you could feel your head spinning.

His lips brushed against yours softly. You didn’t want this moment to be over, wanting to cling to him forever. Everything he did made you feel foolish and insane, and you understood why being in love felt like losing your mind, again.

Steve groaned into your lips, kissing you harder, once, twice, his lips never fully letting go of you, and you didn’t know if it would ever be enough for you, utterly craving nothing but him.

Your mind was jelly at this point, everything was tangled together while the question of ‘What’s going to happen now?’ lingered in your mind. Did he still want you? Did he still want to be together? Why didn’t he just come to you after talking to Eddie? 

You tried to shake them off, tried to focus on the way Steve’s hands stuck to your body, like they belonged there, and the way his lips moved along yours, like it had always been this way.

You wanted to continue, wanted so badly to not let this moment go, but the bickering voices in your head were too much, and you pulled away slowly. Steve almost groaned when he felt the absence of your lips. He blinked once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.” He unintentionally let out, gaze filled with lust as his pupils were blown wide, and a small giggle left your lips. “You are an idiot,” You whispered, your gaze settling on him. 

Was everything going to be okay?

How were you even going to manage to make this work? 

And with that, your expression soured, “Steve,” You said seriously, causing him to look up at you with concern all over his face. “I don’t want to get hurt again.” You murmured, forehead touching his.

“I won’t hurt you, ever.” His gaze was intense, and it made you feel giddy, worries washing away in seconds. You don’t know how he fucking did it, but it worked. 

And you trusted him like no one else. 

You couldn’t help it when your lips twitched into a smile. “You promise?” You gushed.

“With all my heart, honey.” He whispered, taking a deep breath. 

“You have no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, dreaming about this...”

“I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” He muttered, his hands tucking the strand of hair that was blocking him from placing messy kisses all over your face. 

“I couldn’t handle losing you, not again,” He murmured before leaning in to press more kisses all over your soft lips.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bonus scene: just for shits n giggles idk

“What movies did you get today?” He asked with a childish grin on his lips.

“If you weren’t avoiding me, you would’ve known, pretty boy.” You exclaimed dramatically, crossing your arms against your chest.

Pretty boy.

The only thing that stuck in Steve’s brain was that he was your pretty boy.

And this giddy feeling inside of him was never going to go away, he decided.

He huffed playfully before he grabbed your bag, causing you to gasp. “Let’s see…” He murmured as he tried to find the VHS tapes.

“Aha!” He exclaimed as he grabbed the two of them, turning the cover to see what movies you rented. 

“Oh my god,” He murmured. “A double-feature? For us?” He couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a smile, so warm that you wanted to bathe in the glory of making him this happy.

“Mhmm… First, Evil Dead II for me, and once Stevie gets scared, we’ll put on Dirty Dancing.” You give him a wink.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” He groaned. “You are so fucking perfect, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

another a/n: so this is a bit messy bc i had too many ideas and this is the best i could do to fit them all in, i hope this doesn't feel that disconnected from the first!! work has been kicking my ass lately so my mind is all mushed lmao!! feel free to leave ur feedback and pls comment, like or reblog to support me ily <33

[morganbritton132]

Eddie posts a Tiktok, talking about how Steve isn’t a big texter - he’s something worse, a caller - but when he does text Eddie, half the time it’s incomprehensible. The background of the video is a screenshot of a text conversation that starts with Steve sending Eddie a mermaid emoji. Eddie responds like, what does that mean???

Eddie gestures to where he blacked out the picture Steve sent him, “This is a picture of him in the bath. He wanted me to join him. How was I supposed to get that from a mermaid??”

Dustin stitches the video with a screenshot of a conversation he and Steve had a few weeks ago. Steve sent him a picture of a lizard one of his students found and asked, “Who is this?”

Dustin says in text and in the video that it’s ridiculous that Steve just assumes he knows the names of all the types of lizards out there. It’s also annoying because *Dustin moves to reveal the part of the conversation where he tells Steve that it’s an Eastern Fence Lizard* “I did actually know what kind of lizard it was.”

Dustin ignores the part of the conversation where Steve asks if it’d eat a cat.

Robin wordlessly stitches a screenshot of Steve asking, “What does it mean if a student called me based? Is that good?”

Mike stitches Eddie’s original video with a screenshot of his last text conversation with Steve where Steve says that he can’t do movie night. He’s having a Michael. Mike responded to this unprovoked attack like, “…Did you serious name your migraine after me?”

Will stitches his video and tells them to stop. Steve doesn’t have Tiktok and can’t defend himself. Meanwhile, his background is a screenshot of a text where Steve sent him one of those ‘I’m in your walls’ memes and says “You in 83. Lol.” He sends another text five minutes after saying, “Sorry if you’re still sensitive about that.”

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

[corrodedbisexual]

Steve & Eddie & that purely heterosexual conversation

[xspeter]

soon :)

[steveshairychest]

I'm confiscating Steve Harrington away from the duffel bags. They don't know what's best for him anymore. He needs to kiss a man, wear his tiny little shorts and maybe have a nice nap.

[queenimmadolla]

Baby Blurbs 💛

can i request eddie & tequila with a genre of your choice ✨

𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩, 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐝 (are you guys okay???)

Eddie stared out of the window of the van, cigarette held to his lips as he took a deep drag, ash, crumbling down onto his pants.

He was parked outside of The Hideout. Had been for a couple of minutes now. There were only four other cars in the makeshift dirt parking lot, one of which was yours.

You were the reason why he was here in the first place. Had been running away from him the whole day, not that he’d been chasing you. Eddie had been avoiding you, too.

Until you’d walked into the diner, earlier tonight, and seen him with his friends and another band. You’d immediately walked out and while he hadn’t gone after you then, Eddie knew a talk was needed.

You hadn’t been at your house, hadn’t been with your friends and he just so happened to pass by the bar when he spotted your car.

Exhaling the nicotine cloud out the window, Eddie rolled it up and stepped out of the van, dropping the cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his shoe as he stared at the neon sign flashing in front of the entrance.

Eddie had a bad feeling about this but he couldn’t say he’d had a whole lot of good ones in the last couple of months.

He trudged forward, pushing the heavy wooden door open. There were hardly any occupants, a band of teenagers he didn’t recognize playing on the stage, reminding him of Corroded Coffin’s earlier days.

There was a couple in a corner booth, a few stragglers in the tables near the stage and Eddie found you at the bar, perched on a stool with your chin in your hands and a shot glass in front of you.

He swallowed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket for the short walk towards you. 

You didn’t stir when he sat next to you, didn’t even glance up at him. Your big eyes housed a sadness that made something in him ache, the corners of your lips just slightly turned down.

He shifted in his seat, prying his hands out of his pockets to rap his knuckles against the bar top, rifling through his brain to come up with something, anything to say.

“What’s your poison?” he finally asked, jutting his chin towards the full shot glass in front of you.

You didn’t respond, still staring at all the bottles lining the back of the wall, but not really taking them in. Acted like he wasn’t there.

So, Eddie reached forward and took your glass, bringing it up to his nose for a whiff, “Tequila. Nice choice, your stomach is─”

“I think we should take a break.”

You whispered it so quietly that Eddie almost hadn’t heard you. Almost.

He was shocked, mouth parted slightly as he felt his blood run cold.

You finally looked at him, head barely turning and the pain in your gaze was enough to hurt Eddie, have tears lining his own eyes.

Your eyes were red, having already cried your heart out while you drove mindlessly around town after you’d walked into your favorite diner to see Eddie with his other life, his bandmates you were familiar with, other people you weren’t and his arm around a girl who wasn’t you.

Bleach blonde with deep blue eye who fit his aesthetic, looked like she belonged with him. 

The realization hit you hard, not because you hadn't seen it coming, but because it had always been just a couple of paces behind you since Eddie had committed to music.

He’d started touring around the area, then out of state. It wasn’t so bad at first, he’d call and he was still your mushy boyfriend, then suddenly the calls became less frequent, until you barely got them. 

And the drugs. Eddie started using more, relying on them. When he did come home, he was usually passed out,  if he wasn’t hanging out with anyone who wasn’t you.

You fought a lot. Not just arguments, it was yelling and screaming and tears and doors slamming with feelings hurt.

Having him home didn’t feel like you thought it would. You were lonelier and sadder than ever and he was just on the other side of the bed.

What you’d seen today was just the topping on the shitty cake.

“I’m so sad, Eddie.” You stated, a hot tear trailing down your cheek and slipping under your chin. You didn’t bother wiping it, not when you knew more would come, “I’m so sad because I miss you so much and you’re right here.”

“We can work on it, baby. I love─” He tried, breath hitching but you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your lips together to try to keep from full on bawling again because you needed to say this.

“I know, Eddie. I know you love me. And I love you. I love you so much. I want to marry you, I want to have your babies, I want to be with you all the time. But we’re not good for each other right now, Eds. I love you so much it hurts. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, not like this.”

Eddie was upset, too. While his tears had yet to leak, they flooded his eyes and you were surprised his waterline could even keep them at bay. He looked like he was in agony.

“No, baby, we can fix this. We can—therapy. We can do therapy. I’m sorry I made you feel like this but we can─”

“It’s not just you, Eddie. I know I don’t make you happy.” It killed you to say it outloud, your worst fear and something he’d reassured you would never be possible. That had been when the two of you were younger and naive enough to think love could save anything, that love was enough. If that  was true, the world would be a much better place.

But it wasn’t. Because love isn't enough. Love couldn’t save your relationship with Eddie. 

Maybe you could.

“That’s not true─”

“Eddie,” Your eyes pleaded with him not to lie to you to save your already wounded heart and he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers rubbing at them and smearing the wetness around his eyelashes.

It’d be easy to paint Eddie as the villain, the downfall, but it’d be a lie. You didn’t make him happy anymore, just like he didn’t make you happy. You couldn’t imagine how annoying all your pestering was, the equivalent of a boyfriend blowing up the phone of some club you were at while out on the town with your girls, having the time of your life.

Eddie couldn’t enjoy the fast life and wild nights with his friends because you were constantly worried, constantly leaving messages for him at hotels and when you were with him, you were so in your head that you also weren’t present with him. Not fully enjoying any of his concerts or the after parties he’d take you to, and you picked fights just as much as he did. 

Eddie was entitled, and had earned the right to enjoy the scene he’d clawed his way into. You were upset because you didn’t fit into it, just like he didn’t seem to fit into your life anymore. You knew nothing was going on with that girl you’d seen him have his arm around at the diner, she was probably a part of the other band he was with. Should he have put himself in that situation? Probably not. Should you have let the man who bought you that shot talk you up? Probably not. Probably shouldn’t have flirted back with him because you were vulnerable, regardless of how coy and innocent it had seemingly been. Eddie was vulnerable, too.

You were both just unfortunate victims to circumstance. 

“I know I don’t make you happy anymore. It’s okay. I call you all the time when you’re away, even when I know you’re not up to anything because I’m lonely. We don’t even really talk when I do. And I’m lonely when you’re with me, too. Now, we don’t talk when you’re away or here. And sometimes that makes me feel happy, relieved. I know you feel the same way, Eddie. It’s okay.”

Eddie put his face in his hands, silently weeping against his palms because you were right. All the two of you did lately was fight, be it passive aggressively or not, and avoid each other. Couldn’t fight if you weren’t talking, it was a relief to know neither of you was actively hurting each other with harsh words and accusations. Eddie never wanted to hurt you. He loved you.

“So, let’s just take a break, okay? See what it is we really want. I know this sucks, but I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at this. It’s life and it sucks, but there’s not much else we can do unless we want to keep forcing this until we hate each other. I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to hate us.”

“I love you,” he croaked out, pulling his face from his hands to reveal red eyes with tear trails staining his cheeks, “I love you so much, I want to marry you, too, and I want you to have my babies and I want to wake up to you every day of my life.”

Your smile was a watery one and you knew if you stayed any longer, you’d stay. And you and Eddie would have a ticking clock over your heads, a deadline, a guaranteed end to your relationship in a big, fiery ball of resentment and hatred.

So, you wiped your face, gathered your bag and stood up. You took Eddie’s face in your hands and pressed the most tender kiss to his wet cheek, allowing your lips to linger as your heart begged you to stay, to feed into each other’s misery, let it all fall apart and watch if it meant you still got to be Eddie’s girl.

Another tear fell from your eye, though it landed on Eddie’s skin instead of yours.

“I love you, Eddie. I hope someday it’ll be enough. It’s just not right now, baby.”

You pressed your forehead against his, the two of you crying together for a moment before you pulled away, “Take care of yourself, Eds, okay?” 

Your thumb wiped some of his tears away and you gave him one last smile before you went for the door.

Eddie watched you until you were gone, and he stared at the door long after.

It was only when the bartender made a last call announcement that he stirred, downing your shot before he crept out of the bar, fully intent on grieving for the rest of the night, the rest of his life.

[afewproblems]

Season Two Halloween AU Part Ten (Final Part)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

Thank you to Jess @strangersteddierthings for your encouragement and kind words, and to all of you that have been following along with this story. Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy the final installment!

***

It doesn't take much to get Dustin on board, especially given the little shits ego.

Nancy and Eddie manage to catch him outside during lunch period the following day, next to the bike racks. With Hawkins Middle just a block away from the highschool, it's easy to make their way over.

"Called it, I totally called it," Dustin preens with a wide grin, Eddie holds back the urge to roll his eyes.

Nancy levels Dustin with an unimpressed glare as she crosses her arms.

"It's not too late, we could make this work without him," Nancy says dryly, and Eddie has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the way Dustin's mouth drops open as he looks between Nancy and Eddie with a stricken expression.

"No, wait!" Dustin says, his voice pitched high with panic, "I want to help!" 

"Steve is a good guy, he helped my mom with the groceries last week because she had to work late," the kid continues, his voice softer now.

"I can tell he's sad, when he thinks you aren't looking at him, mom had the same thing after my dad left". 

Dustin looks up at Eddie now, a wary suspicion in his eyes, "he's been like that since the last time I covered for you," he throws long exaggerated finger quotes around the word, 'covered' as he openly glares at Eddie.

"What did you say to him before the tunnels?" Dustin demands fiercely, and even Nancy turns to look at Eddie with a questioning tilt to her head.

Frustration courses through his chest now, hot and bubbling, he has to take a deep breath to keep from yelling. 

As if Eddie hasn't been asking himself that very question, as if he hasn't been turning that moment over and over in his mind, trying to find the moment, the words, responsible for Steve's distance.

"Dustin," Nancy says sharply, "this is not the time--"

"What are you talking about," Dustin turns to Nancy, gesturing at Eddie who bristles, "we're making a plan and that should include what not to say this time."

"This was a stupid idea," Eddie bites out, turning on his heel, his ears are warm under his hair and he can feel the angry flush slowly make its way down his neck, he takes three steps before a hand catches his elbow, halting his path.

"Okay Dustin knock it off," Nancy says quietly, her head on a swivel, watching for any lunchtime stragglers lingering around them or teachers on supervision. 

Satisfied that no one seems to be watching their conversation, she turns back to Eddie and squeezes his elbow one last time before letting her hand drop away, "and you, calm down, we're all here because we want the same thing".

"Well, some of us more than others," Dustin pipes up, wiggling his eyebrows at Eddie who wants to sink into the concrete. 

"Dustin," Nancy bites out between her teeth, "Mike said the Snowball is in two days, think you could get Steve to take you?"

Dustin scrunches his nose as he looks at Nancy, "are you kidding," he scoffs, "all I have to do is tell my mom Steve offered to take me and she'll call him to thank him, he'll have no choice but to agree like it was his idea". 

Nancy blinks once at Dustin and Eddie can't help but stare at the little monster's face as he grins up at the two of them. It's honestly a good plan given what Eddie knows of Steve, and even Nancy begins to nod slowly.

"Okay, then your job," Nancy turns to Eddie now, "is to surprise him here when he arrives at the dance, Dustin's right".

Nancy doesn't look at the little twerp as she says it but nearly rolls her eyes at the triumphant laugh that bursts forth from the kid.

"An ambush is probably the best way to catch him, and Eddie," Nancy turns to fully face him and reaches out to squeeze his arm with small hands, "just…be gentle with Steve, as much as you can".

"Are we all clear on the plan then?" She asks, taking a step back towards the sidewalk path leading back to the school. 

"Yes mom," Eddie huffs, shooting Dustin a matching grin as Nancy sighs loudly.

"Just be here for seven," she says tightly before turning in her heel and stalking off towards the highschool.

"She's pretty intense hey?" Eddie says, turning back to the kid, he trails off at the scowl Dustin gives him in response.

"Nance is cool and has a gun, I wouldn't mess with her and I wouldn't mess with Steve if I were you," Dustin scoffs, taking a step closer.

Eddie swallows roughly at the sudden proximity, looking around the school yard for any stragglers making their way back to class. 

"Keep your voice down you little shit," he hisses, reaching out to pull Dustin farther away from the bike rack and the double front doors. He tries not to let the news of Nancy's weapon cache fluster him but Dustin must see something in Eddie's expression if the sudden smug grin is anything to go by.

"I'm just saying, you're new to the party and we protect each other, so if you're just looking to mess with him--"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, bringing his hands up to his eyes. He presses his fingers in until his vision explodes in a kaleidoscope of stars and counts to five, breathing deeply through his nose.

"I'm only going to say this one more time, so tell your little party because I ain't doing another shovel talk from someone whose voice hasn't even dropped".

Eddie ignores the squawk Dustin makes as he lowers his hands, "I just want to talk to Steve and see where this goes, I am not getting my hopes up that this is all gonna be 'Happily Ever After' or some shit, and you shouldn't either".

Eddie watches as Dustin frowns skeptically and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from rolling his eyes.

"But I swear, I'm not messing with him, okay?" 

Dustin stares at Eddie for what feels like an age, saying nothing. His gaze is anything but warm, it feels like he's being analyzed and he wishes that Nancy were still here to absorb some of the strange attention the kid has focused on him.

Eddie is about to tell him to forget it, to storm off back to the highschool when Dustin finally utters a simple, "okay". 

It throws Eddie off for a moment, he stands in the patchy November worn grass, shivering in the harsh wind, mouth opening and closing in surprise.

"That's it?" He asks faintly, watching as Dustin swings his backpack off his shoulder and unzips it. He reaches in and pulls out a bright yellow walkie talkie and holds it out to Eddie expectantly.

"The party frequency is 467.5625," Dustin says as Eddie takes the device. 

He looks from the walkie in his hands to Dustin and scoffs, "you expect me to remem--"

"Channel eight then, Jesus," the kid huffs out, "don't make me take it back, this is a big deal Munson, you're one of us now". 

Eddie holds back a smile but it's a near thing. 

It feels strange, the warmth in his chest at the words. It shouldn’t feel as big as it does, but the heavy walkie in his hands feels like acceptance, something Eddie has always insisted that he never needed. He had Wayne, he had Hellfire, and Corroded Coffin, what did it matter if the other teens gave him a wide berth in the halls, or if teachers assumed the worst of him without evidence. 

But as Eddie taps the walkie onto the palm of his left hand, that feeling of warmth grows until it travels up his throat into a sudden lump that chokes his words. 

Fuck. 

Eddie blinks away the burning sting in his eyes once, twice, before lowering himself into a bow to hide the moisture he knows is just a split second from becoming a very evident problem. 

Dustin steps back in surprise as Eddie coughs to hide the waver in his voice.

"I uh, humbly accept your invitation and will endeavor to assist with all future quests, even upon pain of death or dismemberment oh noble bard".

Eddie lets a small laugh loose as he stands back up to his full height, grinning at the delighted giggle Dustin makes, even as the kid loudly insists that he's actually an Artificer, duh.

"Could've fooled me with that inspired speech dude," Eddie shakes his head and begins making his way back towards the highschool, letting gravity take him down the small hill towards the trees with heavy steps. He feels lighter now than he has in a while.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong.

"Wait!"

The sound of quick steps and crunching dead leaves announces Dustin before Eddie can even turn to face Hawkins Middle.

He skids to a stop at the bottom of the hill, breathing heavily with a wild grin on his small face.

"I know we have a plan already, but I think I have an even better idea," he breathes out, nearly vibrating in excitement.

"Better than Wheelers?" Eddie says, raising his eyebrow and slowly crossing his arms over his chest, careful not to drop the walkie in the grass.

"It's genius," Dustin insists, "trust me".

***

It was not genius.

It is in fact the stupidest thing that Eddie has ever done.

Including the time he skipped school to climb the tallest tree in Mirkwood on a dare and ended up breaking his collarbone after falling ten feet.

But, Eddie supposes, this is exactly what happens when one listens to a thirteen year old.

Maybe this was how all urban legends started, as unsolicited advice from snarky little pre-teens with more confidence than common sense.

All of a sudden, you end up stowed away in the back of a car trying your damnedest to keep quiet so as not to tip off the driver.

Who you happen to be eavesdropping on. Again.

Fourth time's the charm after all.

Eddie tries to stay as still as he can, crouched down in the back of Steve's Beemer. How the hell did those Urban Legend serial killers make this seem so easy, Eddie thinks as they manage to hit yet another pothole, jostling his position behind Dustin's seat. Eddie's heart beat feels incredibly loud in his ears as he holds his breath between his teeth.

He wonders belatedly just what Hopper would do if he drove past them now and tries to swallow the sudden anxiety that clings to his throat.

"Remember," Steve interrupts Eddie's thoughts with his insistent tone, "you don't care, you're as cool as a cucumber, you let everything roll off your back," Steve says as the sound of the turn signal begins, the rhythmic tick tock keeping pace with his words.

"Like a duck?" Dustin asks from the passenger seat and Eddie has to fight to keep the snort that threatens to break free from his nose.

"Uh, I guess, just, look," Steve sighs as they slow down for a light if the red glow is any indication, "you don't want to come on too strong, what happens when you come on too strong?"

"It blows up in your face," Dustin says quietly as Steve speaks in unison with him, slapping the steering wheel once with the flat of his palm, making Eddie flinch in the back. 

God. Is that what Steve thinks he did?

"Exactly, Henderson, you got it! So what are you?"

"Cool as a cucumber," Dustin repeats, this time with more conviction in his voice and Eddie hopes the kid is a better actor than he thought because that is not the lesson he wants him taking away from this evening.

"Because you don't care," Steve says again, tapping the steering wheel with each word for emphasis and Eddie can hear the grin in his voice as he shifts in the driver's seat. 

"I don't care," Dustin repeats again, though in a much colder voice than before, and suddenly Eddie knows if Dustin could see him now, he'd be staring daggers at him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, he's not going to take the blame for every single word and feeling coming out of Steve's mouth and it isn't fair of Dustin to heap all of it on Eddie.

"You look like a million bucks, go get em tiger," Steve says gently as the car comes to a gentle halt. There's a fondness in his voice that Eddie hasn't heard before. 

He's never had a sibling either, but Eddie imagines that this is exactly how it would feel, witnessing their firsts, cheering them on as they head into the unknown. Being their protector from the things that go bump in the night, even if that thing was as small as a first heartbreak. 

God. King Steve just had to be a secret sweetheart didn't he?

Not that it was really much of a secret, Eddie thinks as Dustin opens the passenger door and hops out of the car--

Oh shit. 

Oh shit.

He had been so engrossed in the conversation he'd been eavesdropping on, yet again, that Eddie had forgotten to sneak out.

He had even kept the back passenger door open, ever so slightly, to avoid the sound of it alerting Steve when he made his escape at the same time as Dustin. Then all they had to do was line up their doors closing at the exact same time and Steve would be none the wiser.

Oh God, he really did it, Eddie really listened to a thirteen year old and expected the plan to work.

And what's worse, he's the one that had fucked it up and now, he's trapped.

Eddie takes a deep breath through his nose and releases it as slowly as he can through his mouth. It feels as though an elephant is seated on his chest and his lungs can't quite keep up with the weight as his ribcage slowly begins to cave in. 

He has to get out, he has to run, he has to get out, he can't be caught in here, he can't ruin this again.

He starts at a sudden tapping on the window and holds his breath as Steve leans over from the driver's side towards his passenger door.

"Dustin?" Steve huffs as he moves back into place, his arm stops to rest on the passenger door just above Eddie's legs hidden in the darkness of the back seat.

"Steve! I, uh, forgot something, in the back," Dustin's voice is slightly strangled as he stumbles through the explanation for his sudden reappearance, "uh, my backpack!"s in days with their plan in place.

"Okay," Steve says slowly, drawing out the second syllable as he drops his hand from the passenger seat, "let me look--"

"No!" Dustin barks out, leaning further into the vehicle, from the new angle Eddie can see the panic on his young face. 

"Dustin? What--" Steve huffs as the kid climbs back into the front seat, grabbing Steve's arms and forcing him to continue facing forward.

And perhaps it's the absolute ridiculousness of the situation that makes Eddie laugh, the look on Dustin's face, or the confusion in Steve's voice, but he can't help but contain the loud snort that bursts forth from the back seat. 

Shit.

Eddie's heart drops into the floor of the vehicle beneath him as Steve and Dustin both freeze. 

It's like time stands still for an eternity, though snow begins to slowly fall outside the Beemer and the far off buzzing of music and laughter continues to emanate from the school gymnasium. 

Eddie moves first, lifting his hands to cover his face as he slowly sits up. He presses his fingers harshly into his eyes until a kaleidoscope of stars and fireworks appear in the darkness, before lifting them slightly to move into his hair and pulling at the roots. Eddie keeps his eyes closed as he hears a sharp intake of breath and movement from the driver's seat. 

"Eds? Dustin, what is going on, what are you doing here?" Steve says, his voice growing louder with each word until Eddie opens his eyes. 

Steve is staring at him, his large hazel eyes are wide and his brows have pinched in the middle, cutting creases across his forehead. He looks at Dustin before turning back to Eddie again, the frown on his face slowly morphing into a sneer. 

"Figures," Steve breathes out before turning to Dustin once more, "you two planned this?"

Dustin has the decency to at least wince at the accusation, "it's not like that--"

"Just," Steve cuts the kid off, the word harsh, almost a snarl before Steve deflates, sinking back into the driver's seat and letting his head drop back onto the headrest. 

He breathes out long and slow through his nose before continuing in a much softer, tired voice, "go to the dance Henderson". 

Dustin opens his mouth to rail against the dismissal, to stop whatever train of thought has run through Steve's mind, but Eddie beats him to it.

"Dustin," Eddie sighs, dropping his hands away from his hair to his lap, "let me take my lumps man, go".

Dustin makes a noise that seems to be a cross between a curse and a growl, his expression venomous, before he steps back and closes the passenger door with a loud metalic bang.

Eddie vaguely remembers Dustin and Nancy's threat and the guns she supposedly owns and suppresses a shudder. 

One problem at a time.

Eddie hauls himself into the back seat and groans at the rush of pins and needles dotting along his arms as he moves into a normal position once more. He rubs his hands along his arms and legs, wincing at how loud he is in the absolute silence of the car.

Steve isn't looking at him, his face pressed in between his hands at 11 and 1 on the steering wheel. 

"So," Steve mutters after a beat, startling Eddie as he sits back up from the wheel, "you were listening to me. Spying. Again." 

"Steve," Eddie starts, only for the other man to continue on as though he hasn't heard him.

"The only thing I can't figure out is why?"

Steve turns in his seat to look at Eddie, his face carefully blank now but for the slight downward pull at the left corner of his mouth. The bruises from Billy's recent beatings have faded to a sallow yellow and even the collection of cuts from the shattered ashtray have begun to scab over. 

The sight makes Eddie ache.

"Did Tommy put you up to this?" Steve interrupts Eddie's thoughts, his stare unwavering.

"What?" Eddie whispers, horrified, "what are you talking about?"

"You, you keep," Steve's voice rises slightly, a hysterical edge begins to creep in as his breathing quickens, "inserting yourself into my shit, you--I told you that I," Steve swallows heavily and blinks, his hazel eyes shine in the glow of the streetlight.

"Tommy is the only one who knows about me, so--so whatever he's got you doing," Steve sucks in another short breath, it's wet at the edges and Eddie feels his chest tighten as Steve's voice wavers.

"Steve--"

"You know what," Steve hisses as he reaches down to tug the keys out of the ignition, his breathing still slightly erratic, "just don't".

Eddie watches, frozen, as Steve wrenches the driver's door open and throws himself out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him.

Eddie sits in silent shock for a moment, as though his limbs have filled up with sand, holding him in place, before he manages to scramble towards his own door.

"Steve!" He shouts, wincing as he slams the car door behind him, prompting several kids and parents walking into the middle school behind them to look in curiosity.

He catches a glimpse of a maroon sweater darting into the trees. 

Gotcha. 

Eddie hurries after him, cursing Dustin's insistence that, 'with this plan you won't need a coat, there's no waiting outside at all!'

He tamps down the hot feeling of irritation creeping up his chest and into his throat. It's a ridiculous night, first spent crouched into the back of a car and now traipsing through the woods to what? 

Chase after someone who clearly wants nothing to do with him? Who has been purposefully avoiding him since that night in the tunnels. 

Nancy and Dustin had it wrong, this was stupid. 

What was he thinking going along with their batshit plan --not that Nancy deserved credit for the car thing, that was all Henderson. 

Eddie pushes a branch out of his path and steps over a snow covered log, cursing the fact that he can feel the chill creeping into his toes through the thin canvas of his converse sneakers. The shoes also have little traction in the fresh snow that seems to be coming down even harder now as the night goes on.

As if to prove a point Eddie slips on a wet patch of leaves and swears at the sudden pain in his back as he struggles to keep upright.

He's breathing hard, puffs of frozen breath billow out and away from him in the cool night air

'Be gentle with him,' Nancy had said, as if she knew this would happen. As if she knew Steve would run the first chance he could and Eddie would follow.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, letting it in and out, allowing the frustration and anger from the last few days flow out with each breath.

"Steve," Eddie shouts as he finally catches a glimpse of maroon and tawny hair through the thicket, "just stop, man!"

Steve halts, halfway over a fallen log, but doesn't turn around.

Eddie ducks under another branch and into the small break in the trees that Steve is in. He can see the way the other man's shoulders rise and fall rapidly in the meager moonlight but whether from panic or exertion, Eddie can't tell.

"Steve," Eddie says as he takes another wary step forward, as though approaching a wild animal.

"You promised we'd talk," Eddie tries to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat, "was that a lie?" 

Steve says nothing still, though he turns his face just enough that Eddie can make out his profile in the low light.

Eddie sighs heavily, sliding a shaking hand through his hair, "what would Tommy want with the town freak anyway, he'd be more likely to put sugar in my gas tank than talk to me about anything, Steve".

"So," Eddie breathes out slowly, feeling his heart rate begin to climb as he prepares to take the leap, "rewind a bit, and catch me up on just what is going on in that head of yours sweetheart".

He sees the moment the words register in the way Steve stiffens, the way he slowly turns towards Eddie, his face pale and his eyes wide.

"You…you've called me that before, in the car," Steve says slowly, in fits and starts, "I thought it was a dream". 

Eddie takes another step closer, watches as Steve traces his movement with wary eyes.

"I think that was the most scared I have ever been in my life Steve, I thought you were dead, and it made me realize something," he swallows heavily, it feels like glass all the way down. 

"I was an idiot," Eddie whispers, his breath floats away in the cold November air as he shivers, "and didn't understand what you were trying to tell me at the Byers".

Steve winces slightly and nods, he opens his mouth to say something but Eddie beats him to it.

"IthinkyourNonnawasontosomethingSteve," the words tumble out in a long nearly unintelligible string, "I want to be in your life, whatever that means, however you'll have me," his lungs stutter slightly as Eddie takes a deep steadying breath.

Steve's head tilts slightly to the left as he regards Eddie with a infuriating black expression, his eyes searching Eddie's own.

"As friends?" Steve says slowly. There's a leading note to his voice that Eddie tries not to wince at.

He can't quite help the way his shoulders drop at the words though. Of course, of course he'd been right the first time. Steve was straight and, despite his better judgment, Eddie had gone ahead and gotten his hopes up for nothing.

"If that's what you want," Eddie agrees, forcing a wane smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

Steve's expression betrays nothing still as he moves through the thicket in two steps, his gaze never wavering from Eddie's own as he crosses his arms over his chest, still guarded despite how close they are.

"And if I wanted something else?" Steve speaks softly now, the words travel in between them through gentle puffs of frozen breath.

They're nearly the same height, Eddie might be a half inch taller or so, but from this close it doesn't matter. 

Eddie can see the flecks of green in his eyes, the collection of freckles and moles across his nose and cheeks; if Steve is an Autumnal King in a sunset, he's absolutely otherworldly in the moonlight. The pale snow falling around them almost makes it seem like he's glowing.

"Glowing huh?" 

Fuck.

Steve's face splits into a soft smile, his eyes crinkle at the corners, pulling at the yellow bruised skin. He breathes out something resembling a laugh through his nose as he says, "well, you're not so bad yourself Munson".

Eddie takes another step closer, his heart racing at a mile a minute, "s'that right?" he asks, lifting his hands to grip at Steve's arms.

He lets his ungloved hands run up and down, reveling at how soft and warm the sweater Steve's wearing is before settling at his elbow.

Steve's eyes slowly trace over Eddie's face, before his expression morphs into the determined one that Eddie recognizes from that horrible night in the tunnels.

"I'm sorry," Steve swallows roughly before clearing his throat. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head as Eddie opens his mouth to speak, "please, just let me explain first, and then you can," he bites at the inside of his cheek as his hazel eyes move beyond Eddie's gaze into the trees. 

"You can, make your decision or whatever".

Eddie hesitates for just a moment, squeezing Steve's arms once more before he lets go. 

Steve gives Eddie a tight smile, before closing his eyes, "I've known Tommy since we were like six, sandbox kids right?"

"Our dads were friends, they worked together, so it just made sense, and we were close, we did everything together," Steve opens his eyes but doesn’t look at Eddie, "Tommy knows a lot about me, stuff I've never told anyone, not even Nance".

Steve sighs, kicking roughly at a cluster of leaves and snow on the ground, "not that she hasn't figured a bunch of it out, she's smart like that". 

"I remember talking about girls for the first time when we were Dustin's age, Tommy had a crush on Linda Holloway, he liked her red hair," Steve smiles faintly, but it quickly disappears as he finally meets Eddie's eyes once more, "and I didn't think anything of it at the time, I just thought we were sharing who we thought was cute so I--"

He stops speaking, his breath stutters for a moment as he shakes his head once and curls his arms even more tightly around himself.

"Steve--" Eddie tries, reaching out once again with one hand before he curls his fingers away as though afraid to touch him. 

Eddie wants to tell Steve that he doesn't need to continue, that he understands, but Steve has regained his voice, soft and unwavering.

"I told him about Mary McKinney, she let me borrow her pencil whenever I needed it and always wore her hair in braids," Steve licks his lips, his eyes flitting between Eddie now and the ground, "and, about Brian Donovan, he was on our little league team and he had the best dimples I'd ever seen".

Steve's lips twist into a shy smile this time as he looks at Eddie, "maybe second best now".

Heat rises in Eddie's cheeks, his heart thrums in his chest and he can't stop the pleased grin from taking over his face at the words. 

God, he's so fucked.

Steve continues on, if he notices Eddie's blush in the low twilight he doesn't mention it.

"Tommy said that was weird to think of boys like that, the same way I thought about Mary, and not to talk about it again. That didn't stop him from bringing it up after that," Steve sighs heavily now, "I couldn't so much as make eye contact with another guy at school without Tommy telling me off". 

Anger ignites in Eddie's chest, spreading up his throat and curling around his hands which suddenly long to meet Tommy Hagans stupid face. 

He'd never cared for the guy. Too far up his own ass over the years with a mean streak a mile wide. Add to that a penchant for making other kids' lives absolutely miserable and you have a recipe for a douchebag that Eddie based nearly half of the Munson Doctrine on. 

The other half, well, that had also been influenced by Steve, but if Eddie was being honest, he had no clue who the real Steve Harrington was. 

No one did. 

Hopefully, in time, Eddie could change that. 

"I'm sorry for not trusting you," Steve whispers, his face tipped down to the ground, "I think I've had his voice in my head for so long that I couldn't stop myself from listening to it".

"You want to know the worst part?" Steve asks quietly, he scoffs, not bothering to wait for Eddie to reply, "he acted like he was doing me a fucking favour, like he was protecting me". 

He shakes his head, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as his voice wavers suddenly, "maybe he was, in his own way--"

"Nope," Eddie barks out, startling them both with the sudden volume filling the trees, "that rat was trying to save his own skin by trying to control you, you owe Tommy nothing". 

Steve looks at Eddie with wide shocked eyes. He's standing so still that Eddie wonders if he's stopped breathing.

"Maybe he thought he was doing you a favour," Eddie laughs, it's a cold bitter thing that hangs low amongst the tree roots and plant litter, "and in public sure, I get it, but honestly if he could only be friends with this version of you, then he wasn't really ever your friend, Steve". 

"If someone doesn't like you just as you are, then they aren't worth it".

Steve is still staring, he hasn't blinked the entire time that Eddie has been speaking…it's a little unnerving.

"So," Steve asks, hesitantly, halting Eddie's train of thought, "what about you?" 

He's even closer now and, when the hell did that happen.

"Me?" Eddie says faintly, his eyes drop once to Steve's lips, they're slightly chapped but have never looked so God Damn kissable.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and smiles softly as he lifts his hands to grip Steve's elbows once again, squeezing gently before sliding them down to take his hands. 

They're large and warm in his own, callused along the palms from where the nail bat had sat in his hands. Eddie lets his thumbs run along his knuckles, lingering on the healing scabs from his fight with Billy.

"You weren't what I was expecting," Eddie says, watching as Steve's head tilts again at the nonsequiteur, "especially after the party when I tried to give you back your sunglasses".

"You care, about the kids --even when they are being self destructive little shits, about Nancy even though she broke your heart," he traces his thumbs over the tops of Steves hands when his fingers twitch, "and you care about me, enough to put yourself out there even though you had no idea if I felt the same". 

"You are brave, crazy brave to the point where I'm a little worried about why you're so quick to just throw yourself in front of danger, but," Eddie shakes his head as Steve bristles this time, ducking his face away from Eddie's watchful eyes, "we'll unpack that another day". 

He takes a deep breath and slowly lets go of one of Steve's hands, shaking as he reaches up to cup Steve's jaw, tipping his face up until his eyes are level with Eddie's once more.

Steve's hazel eyes trace over Eddie's face, wide and glassy in the moonlight. They are close enough that Eddie can feel the shallow puffs of air against his lips as Steve's breathing quickens.

"Did the doctor say anything about your face," Eddie asks, gesturing at his own with his one free hand, "recovery time?"

Steve shakes his head with a confused frown.

"Good," Eddie takes a deep breath, allowing a wide lecherous grin to bloom, "because I like you, Steve Harrington, exactly as you are, and I'm going to kiss you," he lifts his other hand now to cup the other side of Steve's face, "but I only make it hurt if you want me to, big boy".

Eddie freezes as the words he just said register. 

Oh Fuck.

Who pulls out Big Boy like five seconds after confessing their feelings? 

Eddie groans lowly and shuts his eyes for a beat, only opening them at the tentative sound of Steve's voice.

"Eds," Steve laughs, his face flushed a deep scarlet, giving Eddie a sly smile of his own, "that was really bad, like really bad".

Eddie sighs, embarrassment beginning to curl, hot and heavy, in his chest as he removes his hands from Steve's face, "I know…"

He startles at the feeling of warm fingers wrapping around his own, drawing his hands back to where they had been on Steve's face, "it's a good thing I like you, so you can get more practice".

"Yeah?" Eddie whispers, his voice hoarse as though he can scarcely breathe. He watches as Steve smiles, counting the crinkles at the edges of his eyes and the way his scarlet flush has faded to a soft pink.

He wants to freeze this moment, burn it into his memory so he'll never forget the soft happiness in Steve's eyes.

"Yeah, Eds," Steve breathes against his lips as their noses brush, "exactly as you are".

Eddie's not sure which of them moves first, it's only the faint brush of chapped lips against his own that sets off an unhinged chorus of, 'Kisskissingkisswhatthefuckyou'rekissingSteveHarrington'.

Eddie's fingers tighten against Steve's face before his hands begin to move on their own, one along his jaw until it has wrapped around the back of his head, burying his fingers in thick soft hair. His other hand shifts slightly lower, his thumb presses into Steve's jaw until his head tips back. 

The noise Steve makes against his lips as Eddie moves him sends a thrill down his spine. He feels two hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck as Steve presses himself even closer. Eddie's fingers tighten in Steve's hair, almost involuntarily, as the pulse under his thumb climbs even higher. Eddie hums contentedly and smiles into the kiss.

It's…God.

Kissing Steve is everything he's ever wanted. He tastes like peppermint, like the candy canes Dustin had brought Steve as a thank you for the ride to the dance, and Eddie can't help but wonder if the little shit had done so with this in mind? 

No, nope. Definitely not thinking about that right now.

He tugs his mind away from the thought and opens his lips more to brush against Steve's with purpose, pulling a sweet moan from the other as he nips at his bottom lip.

He pulls back begrudgingly after another moment, relishing the heat, the softness of Steve pressed against him. They're still standing in the middle of the ravine just a few steps from the middle school and it would probably be best to continue this sort of thing in private. 

Eddie shifts away just enough to run the tip of his nose down Steve's own, his heart fit to burst at the soft sigh Steve releases at the touch. His eyes are closed, but from the new blush that has spread from Steve's cheeks, to his ears and all the way down his neck, as well as the soft grin that pulls at his lips, Eddie can tell the feeling is mutual.

Eddie wonders just how many different shades of pink he could make Steve turn? 

A thought for another day, Eddie thinks with a mischievous smirk, brushing his thumb along the crest of Steve's cheek. 

"We should probably get back sweetheart," Eddie murmurs as he reluctantly removes his hands from Steve's face, "I can think of somewhere warmer we can go to talk". 

Steve nods with a snort, knocking his shoulder into Eddie, "talk huh?" 

"Is that not what the kids call it these days?"

Eddie drapes his arm around Steve's neck, tugging the other man closer. He comes all too willingly with a pleased grin stretched across his face.

"Besides," Eddie hums as they begin to make their way back the way they came, "my Uncle Wayne's been asking about when he can meet you --well after he weaseled it out of me, what was making me mope so much these last few weeks, he's already making Thanksgiving plans--"

They jerk to a halt, half slipping in the leaves and snow, he turns to Steve to meet his wide fearful eyes.

"You--your uncle knows, about me, about you?" Steve asks, the words stopping and starting as he speaks. 

Eddie reaches out only for Steve to take a step back into the trees, "why would you tell him--"

"He doesn't know about you specifically, Steve, I would never do that," Eddie insists, he keeps his voice level now with how close they are to the school again, he can hear the sounds of teens yelling and laughing in the short distance.

"Okay, but he, he doesn't care about…"

Steve trails off, his teeth closing down on his bottom lip and though chewing on what he wants to ask.

Your uncle doesn't care about you being gay, being different?

Eddie sighs, resisting the urge to lift his hands and press his fingers into his eyes, "Uncle Wayne took me in a few years ago when my parents kicked me out for that so, no, it's pretty safe to say he doesn't".

"Oh," Steve says faintly. His arms come up around his chest as he begins to hunch in on himself yet again.

Well shit. 

Now, Eddie isn't a hundred percent certain, but based on things that Steve has said, the warning that Nancy gave him, and what happened at the hospital, he knows that the Harrington house hasn't been the happy home he had assumed it to be.

And now, given the stricken look on Steve's face and the pinch in his gut, the doubts are fading even further away. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, stepping onto the tightrope between them, he'll have to be careful about how he plays this, or Steve could bolt again. He's seen Steve run track at school, he knows the other man could easily outrun him.

Best not to give him a reason to.

"You know, not all parents, um, deserve to be parents sweetheart," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching Steve's face as he speaks, "especially if they're never around".

He feels the rope between them wobble as he takes a step closer, holding out his hand.

"Especially if they don't love us for who we are Stevie," Eddie whispers, watching as Steve looks away sharply, his shoulders tense.

Eddie takes another deep breath before taking the leap, hoping that his feet will meet the ground beneath them.

"Wayne isn't like that, he's safe, and he wants to meet the person I've been mooning over for weeks now, if you're up for it". 

Steve swallows once, twice, his jaw moves as though grinding what he wants to say between his teeth, his nose begins to redden as his eyes grow damp at the edges.

"Yeah," he manages to choke out, his voice cracks down the center as he draws one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "maybe not, right, right now but --fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know why this keeps happening".

Eddie takes the last step and pulls Steve into his arms again; he stiffens at first before finally relaxing, almost boneless, against Eddie's chest. He feels Steve release a long hitching breath and squeezes him gently, rubbing his cheek against the slight stubble on Steve's own.

"Probably because it's been a really hard couple of weeks sweetheart," Eddie pulls back enough to look into Steve's eyes, they're red rimmed now and his lashes have begun to clump together, but even like this Steve still looks beautiful.

"Yeah," Steve says, he sniffs, wincing at the sound of his stuffy nose, "I think I could use a proper…talk, and a rest, if you're still up for it?"

Eddie feels a smile pulling at his lips as incandescent happiness glows in his chest. He pulls Steve closer once more, relishing the feeling of being able to hold Steve again, without the scent of blood and terror in the air. 

"Lead the way then sweetheart," Eddie says softly, knowing he'll follow Steve wherever he goes. There's a lot more for them to talk about, but for now, he'll be there for Steve as his person, for as long as he can. 

Forever if he can swing it. 

Tag List:

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @steveshairspray @hellfireone @eddielives1986 @sunswathe  @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff  @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @lingeringmirth @honorarybrit81 @bookbinderbitch @finntheehumaneater  @lololol-1234 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @monsterloverforhire @gaydrieeen @starlight-archer @homosexual-having-tea @devondespresso @rennnnon @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @carlprocastinator1000 @0o-queendean-o0 @emly03 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @louismeds @fruitmix

@lizzicleromance @fairy-princette @eddiethehunted

And a few people I think may be intersted!

@steddierthings @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads @bramble-berries @flowercrowngods

[joshlmbrt]

ex-husband!eddie inspired by the lovely @madelynraemunson. legitimately could not get him out of my head - thank you. (this isn’t as good as maddie’s, but it had been infiltrating my thoughts).

the oven beeps and eddie sighs, leaning his head on the tattered flannel couch as his eyes glance over to the dim kitchen.

dino nuggets, again.

not that he disliked the meal or detested it, he was grateful he had more left but he’s honestly just throwing himself a pity party.

he could go out to a nice dinner, find a nice girl, eat okay food.

reoccurring word; nice. it wouldn’t satisfy his needs. that he selfishly relived in his mind over and over, even after the separation.

no word could explain how he felt for you - still - and what might’ve happened if he would’ve just tried a little harder instead of just giving up quickly, finding a ‘quick way out of something’. agreeing with you rather than fighting.

fighting for another chance to prove himself to you. to his kids.

to himself.

that he could be someone you can lean on, that his son and daughter could lean on with no hesitation. he never knew what that felt like, and he never wanted his kids to feel like they had to hesitate with him, and recently, he believes they have been hesitant.

he sniffs and catches a smell of something that was burning.

“oh sh-” scrambling from his own little world, a pity party, he hops over the small coffee table and almost trips but catches himself on the chair.

he grabs a rag and opens the oven reaching in and grabs the sizzling pan. he hisses, teeth bared and drops the pan on top of the oven with a loud clatter.

shaking out his hand, palm red from the pan, he tosses the rag over on the counter and stares at the pan that lacks foil and has seven burnt dino nuggets.

now he has no dino nuggets either.

[voyeurmunson]

Having thoughts about…. Ex boyfriend Eddie taunting you in front of your new boyfriend, knowing damn well that you’ll be begging to be on his cock as soon as your boyfriend goes home. 🫠

You go to grab a drink while your boyfriend sits on the couch chatting with friends. Eddie pops up behind you, his deep voice in your ear immediately making your body shiver. “Him? Really?” he chuckles, his breath hot against your ear.

“He’s nice, Eddie. Fuck off.” you hiss through your teeth trying to ignore the quickening of your heartbeat.

“Mm.. I bet he is. And how does he fuck you, sweetheart?” he presses his hips into you from behind.

“What?”

“Does he fuck you good? Does he fuck you like I do?” he murmurs, allowing his lips to lightly ghost your neck.

“I-”

“Tell me.”

“N-No one fucks me like you, Eds.” you admit softly, knowing you were feeding his ego even more but it didn’t matter. You needed him. You always needed him.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

I can’t get him out of my headddd