#hawkins indiana

[whateveronfilm]

pov: it’s summer 1985 in Hawkins, Indiana and you’re busy documenting your summer adventures with your friends

[brewsterispunkk]

THE TUTOR

eddie munson x reader

part 1/4

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader, eddie munson x shy!reader (only one use of y/n and I cringed writing it)

rating: 18+ mature! minors be gone!

summary: reader has had a secret crush on Eddie Munson for months, only she has been too scared to tell him. When she’s forced to tutor him, she lets it slip that she feels like she’s missed out on the normal “high school experience.” Eddie aims to change that.

A/N: this has been in my drafts since LAST MAY!!! & i am just now finishing it jfc. this is part one to a series I’m looking to make three parts! I’ll finish it if it’s the last thing I do!

You hated first period. Always had, ever since sophomore year when you’d had AP literature with the juniors and Carol Perkins had made it her life’s work to make your life a living hell.

You didn’t know exactly what you had done to make her hate you so much, but early on in the year, she’d made it abundantly clear that you were going to be her new target. And you, being the only awkward, braces-faced sophomore in the class, had elected to suck it up and take the bullying.

After all, she was telling you everything you already knew; your hair was frizzy, your teeth were crooked, your acne was ugly and awful. The usual things that you, with the same awful self esteem that was characteristic of every knobby-kneed 14-year-old, had already heard and already believed.

Eventually, when your study-buddy and the only other underclassman in the class, Nancy Wheeler, found out about the full extent of the bullying, she’d done something about it. She had just started dating Steve Harrington at that point, and despite his larger than life hair and not so great reputation, he was nice to you by association. He was the one who got Carol to stop.

Still though, you thought that that god-awful year of excruciating first-period classes had ruined them for you for good; conditioned you somehow into expecting the worst from your first class of the day so that now, as a senior, you still dreaded it.

Today was no different.

You tapped your foot distractedly in the back seat of Steve’s car as he pulled out of your neighborhood.

“For the last time, Robin, no you cannot play the new Clash cassette. Put it away—“

“Oh come on, Harrington. It’s good.” Robin sighed exasperated. She’d been your next door neighbor since you were five, and your best friend ever since.

“Oh, oh! Like the new Madonna album?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at Robin in the passenger seat.

“Or the Duran Duran one?” You piped in, biting your nails and looking at her expectantly. Immediately, her head whipped back to you, mouth open in a silent gasp.

“Wha—“ she made a choked sound, looking between you and Steve before bringing her gaze back to you, narrowing her eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

“Uhm, the side of good music.” You countered, playfully sassing your best friend.

“Wow..” she drawled dramatically, interrupting you.

“And right now,” you continued. “Harrington has the better mixtape. Sorry!” You batted her hand away as she reached back to smack your arm.

“Boom!” Steve declared triumphantly, raising his hands from the wheel for a split-second. “Sorry, Robs, we love you but if I have to listen to one more of your mix tapes, I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, yeah! I get it.” Robin was silent for a moment before turning around to glance between the two of you. “You know, every day I remember how it was me that got this little group together, and every day it comes back to bite me in the ass.”

“Oh right,” Steve scoffed. “You’re forgetting, I’ve known y/n since junior year, and I’ve only known you for like, I don’t know, nine months.”

“Okay, but you two weren’t friends.” She gave Steve a pointed look. “It wasn’t until I convinced her to come work with us at Scoops Ahoy that we all started hanging out. So what I should be hearing is ‘thank you Robin.’”

In the rear view, you saw Steve roll his eyes at her antics, a smirk on his face.

“Actually,” you pointed out. “Steve and i hung out almost every day sophomore year.”

“Yeah,” Robin pressed. “But that was because of miss prissy-pants, Nancy Wheeler, not because you two were friends.”

You bristled a bit at your best friend’s name for Nancy. You knew she probably didn’t mean anything by it, but still. She didn’t know Nancy like you did. And Nancy had been nice to you when you didn’t have many friends besides Robin. She’d made it her problem when you were being bullied and did what she could to stop it, when she didn’t have to.

You and Nancy hadn’t really talked much since she and Steve broke up. Even after the whole ordeal last summer, with the mall “fire,” and Russian agents in Hawkins, you two hadn’t really reconnected. But there was no bad blood there. You wished her the best.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve interjected. “I think she gets bragging rights for knowing me longer.”

You laughed at that.

“Oh whatever,” Robin shook her head, leaning her elbow on Steve’s open window, bopping her head to the music pouring through the speakers.

“Good god, I don’t wanna be going back there.” She groaned as Hawkins High came into view. “It’s not too late to skip you know.” She craned her head back to look at you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“I’m highly considering it.” You bounced your knee, trying to relieve some of the tension in your limbs.

“Ugh, no I can’t.” Robin exasperated. “My moms gonna kill me if she finds out I skipped again.”

There goes my chance, you thought, knowing there’s no way you’d skip without her.

“Yeah, I do not miss this place, gotta say.” Steve mused as he pulled into the parking lot. Robin rolled her eyes at him. You chuckled. They fought like an old married couple.

“I have Ms. Taylor first period,” you groaned at the memory of the stern, mean older woman who you had for home room this semester.

“Oh god,” Steve laughed. You smacked his shoulder. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll see you two at 3.”

You and Robin begrudgingly exited Steve’s car, facing the pit of despair known as Hawkins High School.

Thank god this was your last year, you thought to yourself.

As you eyed down the beige brick building, you could’ve sworn you felt a bit of your soul get sucked out. It may sound dramatic, but it was true. You felt yourself retreat into yourself the closer you got.

Something about Hawkins high just did that to people. Made them retreat and put on whatever mask they had to go get through the day. You were no exception.

“Let’s get this over with,” Robin mumbled beside you, beginning to walk toward the doors.

“Let’s.” You sighed back.

- - - - - -

There was one aspect of first period English with Ms. Taylor that you considered a saving grace—not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Eddie Munson.

You weren’t sure why it started, if you were honest with yourself.

In fact, at the beginning of the year, you, like everyone else, were actually a little bit terrified of the lanky, tall metalhead that the rest of the school had dubbed “the freak.”

Before this year, you hadn’t really had many encounters with Eddie Munson. You’d known of him, sure, but never really interacted with him. Besides the few random outbursts he’d have in the cafeteria, and one time when you’d given him a pencil in your art elective freshman year, you’d kept your distance. Most of what you’d heard about him came from the kids; which meant they were lies, at worst, and exaggerations at best. You could tell they admired him from the way they spoke of him—Dustin in particular, who had spoken of Eddie in the way he’d only ever spoken of one person before: Steve. But that was the extent of your knowledge.

Eddie had been two years ahead of you technically, although now he was a senior, same as you, and stuck in the same miserable first period English class with Ms. Taylor.

It had started out innocent enough, you liked to tell yourself. You weren’t always swooning over him and his leather jackets or studded rings. It had just snowballed.

It had begun like this: it was the first day of your senior year, and to add to your nerves at a new dreadful year, Ms. Taylor had given you, and all your classmates, assigned seats.

Great, you’d thought. Just great. Now you had to sit next to a complete stranger while also being a complete ball of anxiety all class.

You were early. Much to your chagrin, Steve had insisted on picking you and Robin up earlier than usual because it was your first day, and what if you have trouble finding your classes. Completely ignoring the fact that you and Robin had gone to Hawkins High for three years and knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, it had gotten you here, 15 minutes early to the first bell, trapped in a room with no one other than Ms. Taylor, and Eddie Munson himself.

“You’ll be right there, beside Mr. Munson.” Ms Taylor had drawled monotonously, eyes focused on a stack of papers on her desk.

You froze, looking over at Eddie, who was scribbling down in a notebook in the second to last row of desks from the back. He looked up at you for a moment before going back to his writing.

“Did you hear me?” Ms Taylor said your last name. You snapped out of it, smiling over at her and gripping the strap to your backpack before making your way to the seat.

“Yeah. Sorry, Ms. Taylor.”

You sat down rigidly, looking anywhere but at Eddie. Ms Taylor left the room to refill her coffee cup in the teacher’s lounge, leaving you and him the only people in the room.

You felt your hands begin to shake at the impending doom of first period rolling around. You knew it was dumb; it’d been two years since the first-period-from-hell, and you still couldn’t shake your fear of home room. You clasped them together, folding your fingers on top of each other on the desk, trying to calm your breathing. Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Look, you can relax, okay,” Eddie’s annoyed voice beside you snapped you out of it. “I won’t bite.”

You looked over at him, his face looked impatient, though if you looked closely, you thought you could detect a little bit of hurt there too. Your eyebrows furrowed, before you realized what he must have been thinking.

He thought you were scared of him.

It made sense, though that was far from what was going through your head.

“No,” you began quietly, before clearing your throat. “That’s not what I—that’s not—that’s not it.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled, eyebrows raised as he continued writing.

That was the day it started. The watching him.

It’d begun as a way of coping; a way to distract yourself from Ms. Taylor’s droning on about Shakespeare, or the whispers of the two mean girls who sat at the front and liked to glance back at you and snicker.

Your therapist had mentioned the method to you a few months before, a way to maybe cope with your anxiety in anticipation with the upcoming school year. It was a method that your shrink had described as a way of ‘hyper-focusing’, or concentrating on one thing until the anxiety wore away.

And in the haze of your first day, you’d focused on Eddie.

But eventually, as the year wore on, it developed into something different.

You began to notice his hair; how it would fall over his face as he frowned in concentration at whatever he was writing in that book. His hands, big and flanked with gaudy silver rings. You began to wonder how they’d feel on your skin, running through your hair, over your stomach.

It was almost a type of game you played with yourself; a form of escapism. On days your anxiety got too much, the days your hands would sweat and your feet couldn’t cease their tapping, you could look beside you and focus on Eddie. And it would all fall away.

You supposed that’s why you kept your little obsession a secret; it was embarrassing.

Not the fact that you were infatuated with him, but the fact that you’d been using practically a complete stranger to talk yourself down from anxiety attacks. You hadn’t even told Robin, the person you shared everything with. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that this wasn’t some little crush or admiration—it was more than that.

But you refused to admit that to yourself, because there was one huge, glaring problem. That being that Eddie Munson hated you. You were sure of it.

It was as if after the awkward encounter you’d shared at the beginning of the year, he avoided you like the plague. Not looking, talking, or even so much as breathing your way once. And the one time when you’d gotten the nerve to ask him a question, he’d barely grunted out a response before the had rung and he was gone.

That had been the first and last time you’d attempted to talk to Eddie Munson. Your crush was doomed, you knew it. Not only were you convinced he couldn’t stand you, you also were almost positive that he still thought you were scared of him, like he did at the beginning of the year.

Which, to be fair, you were. Just not in that way. As far as Eddie was concerned, you were scared of him in the judgy, superficial, ill-intentioned way that the rest of Hawkins was, not in the butterflies, tongue-tied, make-your-hands-sweat way that you truly were.

Besides, even if you were the most confident person in the world (you were far from it), and if Eddie didn’t, for some inexplicable reason, hate you, you were sure that you would have absolutely no chance with him anyway. Because why would Eddie Munson, all crooked smiles and sure steps and kind eyes, be even the least bit interested in you? It was inconceivable. Because you were shy and scared and binary and everything he was not.

So, you’d deduced that you were doomed to wait out this life-ruining crush the same way you’d been doomed to wait out countless other things in your high school life: silently.

- - - - -

Today was no different than the other nearly insufferable first periods you’d endured this school year, aside from the fact that today was Monday, which brought with it a more tired you, and a much, much more irritable Ms Taylor.

She’d assigned two detentions so far this period, to Bradley Green and Doug Mitchell, two boys from the basketball team that had been throwing spitballs and harassing Eddie, who merely smirked at them in response, effectively egging them on.

You glanced at the clock, tapping your foot subconsciously on the off-white tile below your feet.

5 minutes left, you reminded yourself, watching the clock tick down. Your hands started to clam up. Perfect.

You let out a shaky breath. A few rows in front of you, Pam Simpson and Diana Fiorelli glanced back, eyes zeroing in on you, before Pam snickered and leaned over to whisper into Diana’s ear.

This wasn’t new; they always had some off-color remark or an unnecessary eye-roll to throw at you ever since they found out about your close friendship with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.

How two nerds like yourself and Robin Buckley had managed to bag someone as popular as Steve the hair Harrington as a best friend seemed to be beyond them, and they sought everyday to punish you for it.

The truth was: Steve had left all of that behind. From the wake-up call that was his break-up with Nancy, to the whole fighting-monsters-from-another-dimension thing, he didn’t really care about it anymore. He’d found better friends in you guys. The whole Russians-in-Hawkins, and Starcourt “fire” helped too.

It was true what they said about trauma: it brought people together.

You tried to ignore their whispering, like Robin had encouraged you.

She was absolutely livid when she’d found out that Diana had “accidentally,” spilled her yogurt parfait over your new blouse last week. It had taken a whole five minutes of both you and Steve talking her down from her stupor to stop her from marching straight to the gymnasium, interrupting cheer practice, and giving Diana a black eye. After though, when you’d managed to calm your best friend down, she’d gone off—trying to convince you to stick up for yourself, to say something. If not to the mean girls themselves, then to Ms Taylor at the very least.

But that was the difference between you and Robin; where she would act, you would listen. Remain passive. It was a trait that served you well when it came to retaining information or solving upside-down-related issues, in situations like these, it kind of screwed you over.

You turned your head from the front of the classroom, blocking out Ms Taylor’s lecture on T. S. Elliot and instead turning your head to the desk beside yours. Eddie’s desk.

He was hunched over, head on his hands, which were crossed and folded on top of the desk in front of him. His chin rested there, and his dark eyes were focused on the board, squinting, as if trying to make out what it said.

He seemed to be trying to pay attention, a stark contrast to how you usually saw him hunched over around his worm notebook, scribbling or drawing.

He wore dark blue jeans today, instead of his usual black ones, and a Quiet Riot band T-shirt . His leather jacket was draped over the chair behind him, as Ms Taylor’s room was hot today. His hair fell messily over his back and in front of his face. His ringed fingers tapped on the desk—he was evidently as anxious for the class to end as you were.

You knew he had trouble focusing. You’d picked up on as much throughout the school year, watching him try and try and try to stay locked in to whatever Ms Taylor was teaching.

So many of your classmates had written him off: cult leader, satanist, idiot, freak, but you saw something different. The Eddie you knew (well, not really knew, more like observed) was none of those things. He was different, yes. Flamboyant, sure. But he was not an idiot. Nor was he evil or freakish or anything of the sort.

The ringing of the bell snapped you from your thoughts. You jerked your head back to your desk as your classmates began to pack up and bustle out to their next classes, the sound of backpacks zipping and chatter filling the classroom.

Per usual, Eddie was the first out of his seat, already packed and ready, before leaving the classroom with long strides, eyes trained on the floor, narrowly avoiding your gaze.

You shoved your notebook into your bag, bending over to zip it up and run like hell out of the classroom. You hoped to avoid any unnecessary contact with Pam and Diane. Ms Taylor cleared her throat, before saying your name.

“I’d like to see you for a moment, please,” she said monotonously, eyes focused on the grade book in front of her. A shot of anxiety spread through your stomach.

“Yes, Ms Taylor?” You asked quietly, noting that you were the only two people left in the classroom.

“You have one of the top grades in the class, second only to Mr. Levy, did you know that?” She asked, still not looking up. You puzzled. So you weren’t in trouble?

“Uh-I-no, I didn’t, actually.” You mumbled, brows furrowed.

“Indeed,” she hummed. “I also have been made aware that you are lacking an extracurricular for graduation, is that correct?”

Shit, you thought. She was right.

Last summer, you’d been set to take a summer gym elective; the ones that the school offered during the school year were too crowded and made your anxiety act up, so you and Robin had both signed up to take summer gym. However, the upside-down and the Russians’ presence in Hawkins at Starcourt had had other plans, so both you and her had failed the class, due to bad attendance. And while Robin had made sure to complete her gym credit last semester, you’d completely forgotten about the whole debacle until now.

“Yeah,” you breathed, in shock that you’d managed to forget about something so important when graduation was only months away. “I-I forgot—“

“I figured as much,” Ms Taylor cut you off, finally looking up at you. “Well, seeing as it’s too late in the semester to sign you up for any electives, it would seem that you’ll be having to repeat your senior year.”

Your breath left your lungs.

No, you thought, no, no, no. The last thing you could handle was another year stuck here. In this high school, in this city. You felt your breathing stutter at the thought.

“Luckily for you,” Ms Taylor continued, refocusing you on the moment. “I have a solution that may just save you from that.”

You blew out a breath between your lips, looking at her anxiously.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Anything— I completely forgot about—“

“I trust you’re familiar with Mr. Munson?” She interrupted you. Your brows furrowed. What did Eddie have to do with this?

“Yes.”

“Well, then I’m sure you’re aware that this will be his second time repeating his senior year.” Ms Taylor looked up at you now, her beady eyes laser-focused. “If he fails again, the school won’t be giving him another chance. It would seem that this class is one of the only things standing between him and a one-way ticket out of this school.”

“I dont think I follow—“ you began.

“You will tutor Mr Munson.” She clarified, face stoic as ever. “From now until the end of the spring semester. If you do this, and if I see improvement, I will make it count as your extracurricular. You’ll be able to graduate on time, and he will get the hell out of my classroom for good.”

You were stunned—not only by the fact that you’d be forced into proximity Eddie Munson for the rest of the year, but the fact that Ms Taylor would speak so candidly about a student.

“I—I-“ you tried to articulate what to say next, but found you were unable to gather your thoughts.

“I can’t,” you finally managed, dumbly. Ms Taylor raised a thin eyebrow at you.

“Well,” she said. “It seems that unless you want to repeat your senior year, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“But, Ms Taylor, I—“

“Look,” she sighed your name. “You’re a smart girl. Mr Munson may be… a handful, but I promise he’s harmless. You will be fine. You can even meet on the school premises, if you’d feel better about that.”

Dear Lord, you didn’t know how to tell her that the reason why you couldn’t tutor him was not because of his reputation, or that you were scared of him, it was because you could barely form a coherent thought in his presence.

“Are we clear?” She asked, arms crossed. You tried to speak, but your mouth was dry. You just gulped and nodded.

“Good,” she smiled tightly. You sighed, turning to leave, already knowing you’d be late to your next class. She called your name as you began to exit, your hand on the door handle.

“Just know, I will be checking weekly with Mr Munson to see how tutoring is going. So don’t think that if you fail to show up I won’t know.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind you as you left.

Great. No escaping it. What if you embarrassed yourself? What if he really did hate you? What if—

“Hey.”

You jumped, too caught up in your thoughts to even notice the tall, lanky figure leaning up against the lockers next to Ms Taylor’s classroom.

“Jesus, sorry.” Eddie looked at you with wide eyes, an arm coming to steady you on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

When you just stared at him, he cleared his throat, removing his hand from your shoulder. A part of you mourned the loss.

“So, uh,” he began, looking down at his feet as he walked alongside you. You tried not to notice the faint scent of his cologne that sent a thrill through your gut. “So I guess she told you? About the tutoring?”

When his curly head snapped up to meet your eyes, you quickly faced forward, realizing that you’d been ogling his side profile while he was stumbling over his words. You nodded in confirmation.

“Ok,” he said, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Ok,” he repeated, stopping and turning to face you. “I’m just gonna cut the bullshit: I really, really need the help in this class.” His eyes were a bit wild, panicked. Like he thought you were going to run away from him the moment you got a chance. “Like, ‘really,’ as in, if I don’t pass, I don’t graduate. And I know you really don’t wanna do this, and she’s forcing you, and that you hate me, and you’re scared of me, and all that, but if you could please—please— just help me get through this class, I will make it as painless as possible spending all the time with me.”

By the end of his little speech, he looked frantic, like he was pleading—and you suppose he was. And before you could stop yourself, you just nodded, looking at him dumbly, before remembering to speak.

“I’ll help you pass.” Was all you could manage.

He sighed a breath of relief, running a hand down his face.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could’ve sworn it was the most sincere you’d ever heard him. “Thursday after school in the library sound good?”

- - - -

You arrived early, because, of course you did.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement; you were terrified. Mostly of making an even bigger fool of yourself than you had earlier in the week.

You’d spent the better part of the last three days poring over your last interaction with Eddie in the hallway, when he’d begged you to tutor him, and you’d gotten about five words in edgewise.

He’d practically accused you of hating him, and instead of correcting him—like you’d been dying to do for the whole semester—you stood there like an idiot.

You wished you’d told him then and there in that hallway that he was wrong; that you weren’t scared of him, and that you didn’t hate him. That you were just shy and awkward and he unnerved you. So, you decided to do just that.

Last night, while finally talking through the whole situation with Robin, you’d decided that the first words you’d say to him would be: “I’m not scared of you and I don’t hate you.”

It was a bit abrasive and to-the-point, you knew that. But, you also knew that if you let him get a word in before that, you’d lose your nerve. At least this way, you got your point across.

Your eyes ran over the page of your book for what felt like the fiftieth time. You sighed, throwing the worn novel down on the table.

There was no way you’d be able to get any reading done, not with your nerves eating you alive.

The book wasn’t that good anyway. You had no clue what Robin meant when she said Hemingway was ‘profound.’

You sighed again, eyes finding the clock in the library.

He was five minutes late.

You felt something deflate inside you. Maybe he’d been bluffing about the whole thing, or maybe he’d changed his mind and wouldn’t show. Your mind ran with the possibilities.

The library was sparse at this time.

It was just past three, and most students had already rushed out of the building. It was Thursday, which meant that the town was just waking up for the weekend. It wasn’t uncommon for friend groups to have small get-togethers, or even for one of the bigger cliques to throw a party.

In fact, Steve had managed to convince Robin and yourself to attend one later that night. Which was a feat, because you didn’t make a habit of going out.

It was at Darren’s house: one of the few friends from high school that Steve actually kept up with after, y’know, everything.

Robin was hoping Vicky would be there. You were just hoping to let loose a little.

With all this business with Eddie and your impending (maybe) graduation, your nerves had been through the roof. A party was just what you needed to calm down.

“Sorry,” he appeared out of nowhere, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped.

“Sorry!” Eddie rushed out, slumping down in the chair across from you. “Really, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you all the time. Sorry I’m late.”

You stared at him.

God, he was pretty.

His hair was big and frizzy, per usual, and fell around his face as a halo. His brown eyes were wide and almost doe -like, and his cheeks were rosy with exertion.

He must have been running, you thought. But why? He wasn’t that late.

“Were you running?” You blurted before you could think. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I ran into some trouble getting here.”

“What trouble?”

“The usual.” Eddie rubbed his eyes, and for the first time since he’d sat down, you noticed how disheveled he looked.

His white tee shirt was stained on the shoulder with what looked like… fruit?

“Is that… food on your shoulder?”

“Shit,” his gaze snapped to his shoulder. “Yeah, uhm. It’s jello.”

Eddie looked… embarrassed. For the first time in the time you’d known him, he looked sheepish.

“Was it Jason?”

“That obvious?” He laughed mirthlessly. In fact, it was a little menacing.

“He’s a dick.” You said without thinking.

Eddie just nodded, staring down a place on the table.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at you, dark eyes guarded.

He seemed to be sizing you up, eyes following you up and down. But his usual playfulness was gone. Instead, he looked almost… forlorn.

“Uh, yeah.” His lips lifted into a humorless smile. “Just done with this bullshit, I guess.”

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m a freak. I’m tired of not behind able to fucking walk to class in peace, I’m tired of people being fucking,” he slammed his hands on the table in front of you. When you jump, he throws them up. “Scared of me!”

You stay silent for a moment, letting him stew and collect himself. After a few seconds, Eddie sighs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“I’m not scared of you, and I don’t hate you.”

“—mean to—what?”

“I’m not scared of you.” You repeated, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans. “And I don’t hate you, like you said on Monday. I’m Im just,” you stopped to take a breath. “It’s just hard for me sometimes. With… new people.”

“You sure? Because you look scared to me.”

“You aren’t helping.”

Eddie shivered, rubbing at the jello-colored stain on his shoulder.

“Do you… want to change?” You asked shakily.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” you rushed out, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. You just—looked cold. I have an extra sweatshirt.”

“And you think it would fit me?”

“I like to wear them a few sizes too big.” You added lamely.

Eddie contemplated you for a moment, before sighing.

“What the hell,” he said half to himself. “Why not?”

After he pulled the lilac crew neck over his head, he smiled.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. I know it can’t be great for your…image.”

You snorted at that.

“Yeah, my image isn’t exactly suffering.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward, setting his chin on his fists.

God, his forearms. You forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah. Not exactly prom queen here.”

“Eh, prom queen is overrated.”

You laughed, your own crinkling eyes meeting his. You thought you saw his eyes soften as they looked at you. The vision of him there, in front of you, made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, turning to your notes in front of you.

“So,” you straightened your notebook. “Ready to talk about T. S. Elliot?”

- - - -

The party was loud. Mötley Crüe boomed through the speakers that Darren’s rich family had in what seemed like every room.

You silently thanked Darren for having good music taste. The party would have been unbearable otherwise.

You sighed as you walked out the back door of the house. The inside had gotten a bit too stuffy for you, and with Robin trailing after Vickie and Steve reconnecting with one of his old flames, you were flying solo for the time being.

You brushed your jeans with your hands before sitting down on the back step, a lukewarm rum and coke in the solo cup in your hand.

You felt yourself deflate.

As a senior in high school, this was the closest you’d come to actually living.

While Robin had had her fair share of secret flings and parties and Steve had lived a wild four years of high school, you were just… there.

At eighteen years old, you felt like you’d missed out. Been robbed. The Upside Down had something to do with that, you supposed. Fighting for your own and the kids’ lives from Russians and other-worldly demon creatures tends to do that. Still, it didn’t stop your friends from living. You felt like you’d let your teen years pass you by, but mostly, you felt pathetic.

Sure, you had the grades, but rather than that? You had nothing to show for your time at Hawkins High.

“Hey tutor,” the smooth drawl came from the side of the house. You’d know it anywhere.

Eddie rounded the corner of the house, approaching where you were sitting on the back step.

He wore the same black jeans he wore earlier today, but his jello-stained shirt and your lilac crew neck were gone, replaced by a t-shirt with what looked like Judas Priest’s logo. His arms were crossed over his chest, covered by the black leather he wore more often than not.

“Hey,” you offered lamely, rubbing your hands together.

“What ya doing out here all alone?” He came to stop in front of you, his chunky combat boots taking up your line of vision.

“Just…taking a breather.” You smiled up at him, tight-lipped.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Scoot over, then. It’s a little too… preppy for me in there.”

You obliged, scooting over a few feet so he could sit next to you. As he dropped down on the concrete step next to you, he was close enough that you caught his scent.

It was deep, some kind of cologne, mixed with cigarette smoke and a hint of what you knew was weed.

“So…” Eddie bumped his shoulder into yours. “Thought this wasn’t your crowd?”

“It’s not,” you pressed your hands between your knees. “Robin and Steve dragged me here. I thought it would help me… unwind.”

“Robin… she’s in band right?”

You nodded.

“And Steve… I don’t think I know that one.”

You chuckled.

“You definitely do,” you peeked over at him, eager to see his reaction. “Uh, Steve Harrington?”

Eddie looked at you like you grew a second head.

“The hair?” He asked incredulously.

“The very same,” you nodded.

“God, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m beginning to question the company you keep.”

Your heart leapt at what he called you. Sweetheart.

“I know, I know,” you held out your hands. “He was an asshole. But he’s different now.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He is!” You turned to Eddie defensively. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if he was still the way he used to be. He isn’t like…”

“Jason?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at you. “Like Pam and Diana?”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “He’s still… peppy. He just lost all the bad parts.”

“Hmm,” he crossed his arms. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, the only sounds being your breath and the roar of the party inside. Your breaths swirled in the chilly air around you.

“Why are you here?” You spoke finally. “You said this wasn’t your scene.”

“It’s not,” he shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little baggy filled with green substance. “I’m, uh, supplying the party favors.”

You snorted at that.

“These things good business?”

“You have no idea.” He nodded to the inside of the house. “A lot of these kids’ allowance is more than what my uncle makes in a week.”

You hummed, content to just sit in silence.

Eddie tilted his head at you, leaning his chin on his hands again like he did earlier in the library. He tilted his cheek toward you, an easy smile on his lips.

“So, why are you really out here, tutor-girl?” He looked at you curiously. “You look upset.”

You drew a heavy breath, before sighing.

“It’s dumb.” You picked at your nails.

“Try me.”

“I feel like..” you looked up, before turning to Eddie. “I feel like I’ve missed out. I’m a senior, I’m graduating this year, and I have done nothing.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t move to interrupt you. He only leans further toward you, spurring you to continue. The alcohol gave you the rest of the confidence you lacked.

“All my friends have had their little rebellions. Their flings, all of it. And I have done nothing, except drink shitty booze and nearly lose my mind.”

You blew a deep breath once you’d finished. Somehow, you felt even worse—more pathetic—now that you’d vocalized it.

But Eddie didn’t look at you like you were pathetic. Instead, he looked pensive, hand on his chin as he contemplated. It was your instinct to backtrack.

You moved to stand

“Sorry. That was a lot. Nevermind. Let’s just forget I—“

“No, no, don’t apologize.” He grabbed your arm and gently pulled you back to sit beside him. “Especially after what I dumped on you earlier.”

Your cheeks were red, you could tell. Whether that be because of the combination of the alcohol and the confession, you couldn’t tell.

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, still thinking. You snuck a glance over at him and noticed a wry smile on his face. “Let’s fix it then.”

“What?”

“We have til May, don’t we? That’s eight months. Your senior year isn’t over yet.”

You laughed nervously.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that—“

“You’re not! I’m offering. Consider it payback for all the hours you’ll be tutoring me in Taylor’s class.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.” Eddie smiled. “It’s a deal, then .”

[applejaax]

okay hear me out Steve Harrington as a stripper and Eddie as the rockstar that appears at every single one of Steve’s shows because he’s obsessed with the way that man can work a pole. he always sits front and center to watch from the best angle and when Steve catches his eye he always winks, maybe it’s because Eddie is constantly throwing 100s and 1000s or maybe it’s because Steve was attracted to the metal head. Either way, Eddie loved the attention that was only directed towards himself. so much so that he wants to book a private show with the dancer and when he does he’s in for the ride of a lifetime, quite literally if you catch my drift.

[voydhund]

May i present to you

Apocalyptic Hawkins

[dearhargrove]

beat up love

Prompt from @novelbear

◦ All of A's concerns of hiding instantly go away when B gets hurt.

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You and Billy had been secretly dating for 2 months when he comes to school to find you in the middle of Carol and her friends.

𝔱𝔴'𝔰: Angst and fluff, wounds, insults

masterlist

navigation

𝔞/𝔫: this is my first time writing for him (& on Tumblr, so I'm hoping this won't be total catastrophe.. enjoy!)

You inhaled sharply when took a fistful of your hair and forced your head in her direction. “Did you hear me? Stay away from him!" she scoffed when you couldn't answer, too out of it by now.

Her and her friends had always had fun in making you feel bad about anything you said or did. So when they saw you and Billy talk this morning they went after you as quick as possible.

After you had left class, they dragged you behind the school building, where normally no teacher or anyone else would be. While they had always been insulting you, they hadn't been violent until now.

You knew, that if you would try fighting back they would overpower you. After all, they were three while you were alone.

You groaned as she let go of your hair and pushed your head back against the brick wall behind you. "Don't tell anyone about this. Or, do. No one will believe you anyway." she grinned evilly, turning to her friends who were laughing.

She smiled at you in a sickly sweet way while waving, her smile falling off her face as soon as she turned around to leave.

You let out a breath of relief, your ribs hurting with every breath you took. They had gotten you pretty badly this time around.

A sarcastic laugh left your lips as you thought about the reason they harassed you today. Well, you thought, I guess it's a bit too late to stay away from him.

You looked at your watch, seeing it was already well past 4 and you were supposed to have long been home.

"Fuck," you mumbled, hoisting yourself up.

Panting, you righted yourself, one hand holding onto the wall for balance. You didn't hear the fastened footsteps coming closer, nor did you notice your boyfriend turning around the corner.

His eyebrows furrowed as he saw you holding onto the wall and he stepped closer.

"Babe?" you flinched, surprised as you hadn't realized he was there. "Billy?" you coughed, putting on a brave smile. You didn't want him to know what had happened, he would just worry even more about you and blame himself for not protecting you.

You watched his eyes flick over your body and where you were holding your side. "What the fuck happened to you?" he may have sounded angry and harsh to anyone else, but you knew he was either shocked or upset about this situation.

"Uh... nothing..?" while you were a pretty good liar you couldn't lie to him - for he would somehow always know when you were lying.

He raised one eyebrow, huffing before coming closer to you. "I call bullshit, princess," he mumbled, leaning against the wall. You knew he was going to find out one way or the other but you were stubborn.

"No, I just fell in gym class you don't have to worry," he scoffed, licking his lips and leaning closer into your space. Fuck, he knew very well how to get you worked up. "And now the truth?"

You pouted, ribs pulsing in pain. "Why would I lie?" He grinned, mocking your pout in a cute way, "I don't know, why would you?"

He chuckled and you cursed yourself for caving so quick.

"Carol and her minions saw us talking this morning and weren't too happy with that," was your simply explanation as you kicked a pebble away.

His gaze darkened in anger as he huffed. "Why the fuck does she still think she owns me or something?"

You shrugged, straightening up and lifting a hand to his cheek. "Baby I've dealt with worse, yeah? Don't worry I'm fine just a bit worn out." he sighed, relishing in the warmth that you were.

"Not gonna beat 'em up for this because I can't, but I'm definitely gonna speak with them, baby." he decided. You knew that when he had something in mind nothing could stop him from doing it, so you didn't even try talking him out of it.

"But they don't know we're together-" he interrupted you by leaning his forehead against yours and carefully pulling you in by laying on hand on your hip. "We should make it public." that's... a surprise? He was the one who had wanted your relationship to be private, as the situation with his dad was still really bad and he didn't want anyone to talk bad about you.

It didnt bother you, in fact it worked kind of in your favor - you never liked being in the spotlight and always kept in the back and being Billy's girl definitely meant being in the center of attention, well, all the time.

You grin, placing a kiss on his lips. "don't mind that." He chuckles, burying his face in your neck and just hugging you close for a second.

"Alright. Tomorrow you're gonna ride with me." he decided, not like you were against it.

"I still want to know what happened to you, eh?" he said seriously, before effortlessly picking you up. "Oh my God!" you shrieked, startled. "Don't just scare me like that!" you complained, frowning at him.

He just laughed, the wind slightly messing up his blonde locks. "Hm, no. You're cute when you get startled." you ignored the obvious blush high on your cheeks and huffed.

-

"Alright, I'm gonna stay here tonight. Neil's not home." he mumbled the last part, licking his lips and carefully taking of your shoes, jacket etc.

You watched him with a fond smile as he helped you get dressed for bed. He reached out and took the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to raise your arms. "Billy," you whined, flushing red, "you don't need to undress me..."

He smirked, "Hm, but I do it often enough, don't I?" you give him a scandalized look, lightly slapping his hand away and pulling your shirt over your head yourself.

You throw it at the end of the bed, reaching to unclasp your bra. Turning and moving around with your arms hurt and you turned your back to him, waiting for him to help you.

You didn't expect the blank face and sharp inhale at the sight of your back. Confused, you turn to him as best as possible. "They got you pretty bad, beautiful," he explained, sighing.

"You know, you could've very well just called for me-" he starts. You get up and stand in between his legs, looking down at were he sat on your bed. "Don't you start putting the blame on you. You know I hate when you do that."

He frowned, wanting to retort something cocky. "Nope, listen to me," you put a hand under his chin, raising his head so he looked into your eyes. "You really gotta stop thinking everything is your fault, love."

he looks away, having had this conversation with you more than once.

"I can handle shit by myself," you start, a quick nod coming from him, "but that doesn't mean I should always do something. If Carol and her friends feel better telling me to stay away from someone, or whatever, let them. I don't care. I do care about you though, and you shouldn't ruin your reputation through being mean," you make air quotation marks, "to the most popular girls in school. That's going to create unnecessary problems, yeah?"

He leans his head on your stomach, humming. "I know, but I hate seeing you get hurt and not being able to do anything." you just pat his back before stepping back. "Well you better help me with this," you turn your back to him waiting for him to open your bra, "or you're the one getting hurt."

"Bossy." he mumbles, taking the piece of clothing off you.

"Love you too, baby." you grin.

[sofiiel]

He came home.

[mads-weasley]

Without You

Steve Harrington x Reader

⚠️STRANGER THINGS SEASON 4: VOL 1 SPOILERS BELOW⚠️

Masterlist

A/N: I just finished the last season 4 episode that's been released and I'm obsessed! Can we just talk about how hot Steve looked this whole season? Especially him in the Upside Down with Eddie's cutoff jean jacket...thus why I chose this gif. I do not own any of these characters except (y/n)!

Summary: After Steve is dragged into the Upside-Down, his girlfriend doesn't hesitate diving in after him. She's willing to do whatever it takes to get him back home to safety, including hiding her own injuries from the group.

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, injuries, angst with fluff

(y/n) - your name

(y/l/n) - your last name

(y/n/n) - your nickname

(y/h/c) - your hair color

"How long, Wheeler?"

"It's onl-" She started, but was interrupted by (y/n).

"Too long." The (y/h/c) stood up abruptly, taking off her socks and shoes while the others protested.

Robin shifted to keep the boat level. "Just give him a little bit longer! He's probably fine." She turned to Eddie. "He should be fine, right?"

"Well, realistically, he sh-"

"Eddie!" Nancy snapped, annoyed.

"I'm done waiting."

Just as (y/n) was about to jump in, Steve splashed up out of the water, scaring everyone in the boat.

"I found it." He announced, out of breath.

Nancy was the first to speak. "You found it?"

(Y/n) reached down, putting a hand on his that was clutching the boat. "Steve, are you okay?"

He simply smirked up at her. "Did I worry you, (y/l/n)?"

"Shut up. Are you okay? Really." She returned his smile.

"Yes, (y/n/n), I'm fine. It's pretty wild. It's more a snack-sized gate than a mama gate, but still, it's pretty damn big."

Just as the words left his mouth, he was plunged underwater, knuckles white, barely hanging on to the boat. After a second, he came back up with a confused expression.

With worry etching her face, (y/n) reached for him again. "Steve? What was that?"

"I don-" he started but was pulled underwater again, and this time, he didn't come back up. Yelling instantly filled the boat and (y/n) wasted no time in jumping in after him.

"Steve!"

"(Y/n)! Wait!" Nancy tried, but it was too late. She was already swimming downward in the murky lake water. Her legs kicked as fast as they could as she tried not to think about the burning of her lungs and arms. The only thing she could think about was Steve. They had been through so much together and she was not about to lose him when they were so close to figuring everything out.

Memories started to flash in her mind: fighting the Demogorgon at the Byers' house, dancing at the Snow Ball, babysitting the kids, their first date, kiss, and I love you's. She was brought from her thoughts by the glow of the gate. Reaching it, she didn't hesitate and quickly swam through it.

Emerging on the other side, the first thing she noticed was the chill. Then she heard the screams. His screams. Spinning towards them, she saw Steve on the ground with small creatures attacking him. With every cry for help that left her boyfriend's mouth, her heart broke. She ran as fast as she could, careful to avoid the vines, and was only 20 feet away when she felt something dig into her shoulder.

Letting out a yelp, she fell forward as the pain worsened. Looking back the best she could, she saw one of the things that were attacking Steve digging into her flesh. With every bite, she could feel hope withering away. Within a few seconds, another demo-bat attached itself to her left thigh. She was about to give up hope when she heard Steve let out another scream. With a cry of her own, she elbowed the bat on her shoulder and rolled over, effectively getting it off. Yanking on the one on her thigh, it finally detached itself from her leg as she got up and stumbled towards Steve.

Picking up an oar on the way, she slammed the wide part into one of the bats on his stomach, sending it flying. The others joined in and defended the group from the flying devils as she was fighting them off. (Y/n) was trying to free Steve of the bat that had him by the throat with the oar, but he took care of it, biting it and slinging it to the ground. He slung it behind him and spit out a mouthful of black goop.

"Steve!" She yelled, running to him. Her hands hovered over the bloody gashes and chunks missing from his skin. Tears welled in her eyes at the sight.

"Are you okay?" She quickly moved to scan his back for other injuries, gently putting her hand on his bicep. Looking up at her, he noticed the tears threatening to spill and took her hand.

"Babe, I'm okay. They took about a pound of flesh. But other than that, yeah, never better." Still sensing her worry, he leaned down and kissed her softly. As they pulled away, foreheads touching, he whispered.

"I'm okay, you're okay, and we're okay."

"We're okay," she repeated softly.

Running through the forest, waves of pain were coursing through (y/n). The adrenaline had worn off, and her wounds became excruciatingly and started to bleed through her clothes. Luckily for her, she was wearing dark clothes, so you couldn't really tell she was bleeding. The screeching of the bats above them was enough to push her to keep running, even though her thigh cried out in pain with every step. She tried to conceal her limp but was failing. Every few minutes, Steve looked over and asked, "Babe, are you okay?"

Panicking, she quickly came up with a lie as she laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm just tired from all that swimming. Not all of us can be co-captains on the swim team."

With a short chuckle, he kept running. The two of them were leading up the rear, and (y/n) noticed he was starting to struggle too. She said a prayer that they'd be able to stop soon to rest, and it was answered a few minutes later when they reached skull rock.

As they were getting up, Steve fell against the rocks.

"Oh, sh..."

(Y/n) was at his side at an instant, her voice dripping with concern. "Steve?"

"I'm fine, babe. I'm fine."

Looking down at his stomach, her heart began to race at how much blood he was losing.

"No, no, no. You're not. You're losing blood." She helped him slide down the wall, her hands on his shoulders. "Come on, sit. All right?"

Biting back a groan from her leg injury, she squatted in front of him. Steve grunted as he leaned up against the wall, giving her a full view of his injuries. Her eyes once again welled up with tears. Thankfully, Robin kneeled next to her and started rambling about rabies, giving (y/n) a chance to compose herself while tearing the bottom of her skirt to use as a bandage. Zoning back into the conversation, she could hear the pain in Steve's voice.

"Robin. I kinda wanna punch you," he stated with a grunt and slight smile.

She laughed nervously. "Sense of humor's still intact. That's a good sign."

Seeing that (y/n) was ready with the bandage, Robin moved to talk to the others, giving the couple some space. She leaned forward and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Okay. You ready?"

He sat up to her height and put his hands on his head, giving her access to his waist. Normally (y/n) would be swooning over his biceps on display, but nothing about this was normal.

"Yeah. Just do it."

Taking a deep breath, (y/n) leaned forward and wrapped the cloth around his waist, his groans of pain not going unnoticed.

"I'm so sorry." She apologized, fighting the tears threatening to fill her eyes.

"It's okay, (y/n/n)".

Tying it tightly, she looks up to see Steve already staring at her. The dam breaks and the tears start to trickle down her cheeks. His look of adoration quickly changed to one of worry. He cupped her cheeks lovingly, wiping away some of her tears.

"I'm okay. You saved me, sweetheart. I'm going to be fine."

Placing her hands on top of his, she whispered. "I know. I'm just scared."

"I'm scared too, but we have to keep going. I'm going to protect you no matter what, okay."

Nodding, she kissed her cheek before slowly helping him up. This time, she could not hold back the hiss of pain that escaped her. At this, Steve went into overprotective boyfriend mode, asking her a million questions. She used the same excuse from earlier: "My legs are sore from swimming." It wasn't a complete lie anymore. Her whole body had become sore and tired, but she thought it was from all the running they'd done. He didn't seem to believe her but didn't argue.

By the time they'd reached the Wheelers' house, (y/n) could barely stay upright. She'd somehow made it there by some miracle and immediately split off from the group, claiming to look for clues when she was honestly looking for a first aid kit. Thankfully, they had one in their downstairs bathroom. As (y/n) bandaged herself the best she could with the bandaids and tiny bandages she had, Steve knocked on the door. Little did she know that he had noticed the way her face had seemed to lose its color and how she swayed as if trying to stay on her feet

"(Y/n), are you okay, babe?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She replied quickly, haphazardly placing a bandage on her thigh.

"Are you su-" Steve started but was interrupted by the door opening in his face. He didn't move from his position leaning against the doorframe, effectively trapping her. His eyes scanned her up and down.

"I know something's wrong. Please tell me." He pleaded.

She pushed past him, dizziness threatening to topple her. "I'm fine, Steve."

"No, you're not." He caught her wrist gently. "Please tell me wha-"

"Steve! (Y/n)!" Robin called, running down the stairs.

He looked over at (y/n). "We're not done talking about this, (y/l/n)."

"So we've got 7 miles to go, guys. We can do it." Robin stated. "It's not like those 7 miles are filled with demo-bats and a million other creatures that are trying to kill us!"

Sighing, Nancy led the group to the bikes. There were only four bikes, so naturally, Steve and (y/n) were going to share. By this point, (y/n) was struggling to simply stay awake. Since first arriving at the Wheelers' house, lightheadedness had set in to torment her along with the already present dizziness.

"(Y/n/n), you good?" Robin asked, noticing the way she was blankly staring off.

"I'm fine."

Robin glanced at Steve, the two sharing a look of worry.

As they started on the road, (y/n) was seated behind Steve. Making their way to Eddie's trailer, she was able to keep herself awake and alert, despite the pain radiating through her and the symptoms of the blood loss. 'Just a little bit longer,' she told herself, forcing her eyes open. When the group finally arrived at Eddie's, she breathed a sigh of relief knowing they'd be home soon.

The second she felt the bike come to a complete stop, it was like her body gave up on her. White dots pained her vision and on the first step she took off the bike, she fell to the ground. The last thing she heard before everything went dark was the voice of Steve yelling for her to wake up.

"I'm so sorry, (y/n). I should've tried harder for you to tell me what was wrong. This is my fault." Steve cried, holding (y/n)'s limp hand against his lips. "I just need you to wake up now. I can't do this without you."

"Well good thing I'm awake, then." she rasped, voice sore from misuse.

His face lit up at the sound of her voice and he gently pushed the hair from her forehead. "Hey, sweetheart. How ya feeling?"

She recalled his words from earlier when she asked the same question. "They took about a pound of flesh. But other than that, yeah, never better."

A look of hurt flashed in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"

"You were hurt, and I-I just didn't want you to worry about me."

"It doesn't matter if I'm hurt. Shoot, even if I was dead I'd still worry about you, babe. I can't do this without you." He took her hand.

"I know."

He leaned in, closer to her. "I love you. So much."

"I love you, too, Harrington."

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!

[fandomtrashjuice]

✨Accurate Eddie Munson dating head-canons ✨

He most definitely smells like cigs and BO doused in cologne

Would not cancel dnd for you, in fact you would get in a fight if you happened to schedule a date on dnd night

He of course would apologize later by making jokes and trying to lighten the mood. He of course has a hard time directly apologizing but always does something to make up for it

Would probably be an enemies to friends to lovers type situation

Does like to be in the woods with you for a little romantic time

The drugs. Omg the drugs are an issue, he swears he only sells to make some cash but you both know he wouldn’t sell if he didn’t know what exactly he was selling

The daddy issues show. He try’s so hard not to be like his dad that parts slip through the cracks

Emotional little man, yes. Is this demonstrated healthily in a cute way, no. He has little emotional outburst instead.

He is a huge romantic. In his own little way of course. He’d learn a non metal guitar riff just for you

Or secretly like some non metal song you enjoy

Would not make the first move

He’d flirt. Oh he’d flirt, but once he got you to go back to his place, or hang out at all in general he wouldn’t know what to do. He never expected to make it half this far.

So you’d go in for the first kiss, and ultimately you’d be the one to ask him out

…I don’t have any recollection of writing this, enjoy ig. If the Eddie Munson fan base is still alive

[urcuteharrington]

head in the clouds🕊💌

pairing-steve harrington x fem! reader

summary- steve can’t stop thinking of the way you wrap around him…

word count- 1.2k

warnings- p in v, dirty thoughts in public, sub to dom steve, handjob, making out, the usual smut shit

a/n- now this has been in my head all day and i just needed to write it asap. hope you enjoy and hit my inbox id love to chat or take requests!

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

steve's pov

"hey steve can you put these back on the shelves" robin says to me from behind the front counter. "yeah, sure" i say as i start pushing the go backs to the romance section. putting the movies back i notice one that y/n and i rented a few days ago. the memories of that night flood my brain as the image of her riding me plays. her head thrown back and those sweet noises she made, ' fuck' i mutter out as i feel my pants tighten around my erection.

the face she makes when she slides down on me and that fucking gasp. "fuck steve, you're so fucking big" she moaned out when she slide all the way down my dick. feeling her squeeze me as she adjusts to my size, watching her plump lips swollen from the make-out sesh that led to this.

i fix my pants to hide my obvious erection but the images keep playing. her sweet moans as she starts bouncing up and down on me. "oh steve" she says as i thrust into her. y/n breast bouncing up and down with her movements. how soft they are the squeeze and how easily they become hard when i pinch her nipples.

"steve...steve..." i hear her moan out. "steve" robin says as she shakes my shoulder. "what?" i say as i turn to look at her. "i'm going on break can you work the front" she says as she walks to the backroom.

I stand in the front as call y/n, *ring...ring...ring* she picks up. "hey i really need to see you after work, im gonna pick you up so be ready at 7:00" i say quickly. "oh alright i'll see you then" she says and i end the call.

"alright i'm clocking out" i say to robin as i toss her the keys to lock up when shes off. she waves me off and i head straight over to y/n's place.

y/n's pov

i finish up by putting on steve's favorite perfume. the urgent way he spoke over the phone i knew exactly why. i wore his favorite bra and pantie set for nights like these. nights where he couldn't contain himself from the thoughts of us fucking. this happened often so i knew immediately. i hear a honk from outside and start heading out.

walking up the stairs to his room i am immediately pushed to the wall as his lips find mine. my hands find their way to his neck and hair as i deepen the kiss. i wrap my leg around his thigh pushing his body closer to mine. his hard erection pressed up against my inner thigh dangerously close to my cunt.

he runs his hand down my lower back and squeezes my ass making me moan into our kiss. i lower one hand down his chest and make my way to his erection. i palm him softly and he pulls away moaning in my ear. "keep doing that you're gonna make me cum" he says to me as he kisses my neck.

i giggle as i start unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. out lips reconnect and i start giving him a hand job under his underwear. his pre-cum making it easier for me to wank him. "fuck" he says into our kiss as i run my thumb over his soft pink tip.

he pulls away and looks deeply into my eyes, "i need you right now" he says as i walk him to the bed. i push him on and tell him to remove his shirt and pants. "ah ah ah you have to wait a little pretty boy" i say as i start striping for him. "oh fuck" he mumbles as he sees me dressed in his favorite bra and pantie set.

" turn around for me baby" he says as he admires my plump ass in his favorite panties. i turn to face him and climb on top of him. our lips meet and his hands roam my body feeling my bare skin. "i want you in me steve" i say, "..but can you please help me take off my bra" i continue as he quickly unhooks it with one hand. i toss my bra to the side and he places kisses on my breasts.

he licks my nipple and blows softly watching it harden. he squeezes my boobs leaving deep dark hickies across my chest. we lock eyes and i see his lips are swollen from our kissing. "please fuck me steve" i say as i feel my panties soaked with slick.

he kicks off his underwear and i toss mine into the growing pile. i stand on my knees above him and grab his erection. i give it a few pumps before aligning it with my entrance. rubbing his pink tip along my slit to lube him up. his tip kisses my entrance as i lower myself onto him.

i gasp and look into his eyes as he runs his hands through his hair. i feel him stretching me out as our pelvis meet. "fuck, i can see how deep i am." he says as he runs his fingers over my belly bulge. he places his hands on my hips helping me stay steady.

i move my hips in a circle, round and round as i begin bouncing up and down. his tip hitting my cervix every time our hips meet. his throaty moans, my moans, and skin slapping is all that can be heard. "steve you're so deep" i moan out as i throw my head back.

he quickly flips us over and starts fucking me doggystyle. my ass up, back arched, face being fucked into the mattress. "oh fuck" i moan out loud as he slaps my ass hard, leaving a bright red hand print. his thrusts deep and fast as his balls slap my clit.

"you're so fucking tight" he groans out as he hits my g-spot. "right there steve please" i beg him as tears pool around my eyes, smudging my mascara. he abuses that spot making me mumble, "you're taking me so well princess" he says as he slaps my ass again.

"who's makin' you feel this good" he says, "steve" i moan out. "louder" he says as i scream his name repeatedly, "steveee".

he reaches over rubbing my clit in rough circles. "cum for me princess, cum all over my dick" he says as he trusts hard into me making me see stars. i feel that boiling sensation take over as i cum. he thrusts into me a few more time before cumming deep inside me. "fuck, that was amazing" he says as we fall onto the bed side by side.

he cuddles into me kissing my shoulder softly. "let me run you a bath and clean you up" he whispers into my ear as we fall from our high. "i'm sorry if i was rough, i've just been thinkin' about you all day" he says making me laugh.

[wisdomssdaughterr]

there’s just something so tragically satisfying and horrifying about the destruction of hawkins immediately following the majority of the town turning their backs on eddie ‘the freak’ munson and the rest of the hellfire club (and in some way shape and form all of our beloved main characters). 001’s hatred of the small town ideology, their lies, their mundane lives, the overall disgust in the american “dream” vs. the citizens of hawkins and their desperation to be normal and live normal lives in a town that is cursed by the supernatural. it’s the citizens own closed minds that will almost certainly doom the outcome of the protagonists’ fight. the mob that wants to hunt them down may ruin the towns only fighting chance because they can’t control the supernatural elements and the curse on hawkins, but hell will freeze over before they let their suburban dream be ruined by children and teenagers who they can’t shove into a box and seal them with a picket fence

[endlessdreamerxoxo]

I know what and who "But Daddy I Love him," could be about, but I'll pretend that it is only about Hellcheer because it's so Chrissy Cunningham vs. Hawkins about Eddie Munson

[alice-the-brave]

“I guess,” Harrington shrugs, “I just – my parents, you know? They like to have things to brag about. Sports are about the only thing I’m good for.”

He says it like it’s easy, like its fact. Like he’s heard it a million times and it doesn’t bother him.

Billy thinks about him dropping out of the swim team, about the way he loiters about the pool, watching his kids and staying as far from the water as he can. Thinks about that last season he had on the basketball team, lackluster and disappointing. Cut short by a concussion that benched him for the last game of the season. The last game of his high school career.

A concussion that Billy gave him.

He remembers, too, the way he had talked about the kids, the way he said ‘people who care about me’ like he didn’t have anyone else. Like there weren’t any other options. Like they were all he had in the whole world.

            “Well, don’t forget about that pretty face of yours, Harrington,” Billy says, looking away, watching the kids, trying to see them the way Harrington might.

Harrington laughs at that, throwing his head back, and Billy can’t help but turn slightly to watch him.

            “Yeah, well, I guess I’ve got that going for me, huh?”

            “Sure,” Billy agrees, leaning over to pass him a coke bottle, “Popeye’s turning green with envy, man.”

Harrington snorts at that, reaching out to punch lightly at Billy’s shoulder before he takes the offered drink. 

“Listen man, it’s not that bad if I ditch the hat,” he says, leaning back against his seat and twisting off the cap, oblivious to the way Billy can’t help but watch the flex of his bare arms as he does, “It’s company policy, but, c’mon, Robin’s my manager and it’s not like she’s gonna call me out.” 

“She’s definitely gonna call you out,” Billy argues, “She likes to watch you suffer too much to let that slide. Besides, isn’t that unhygienic or something?” 

“Dude. You really think a dog bowl shaped hat is keeping any of our hair out of the ice cream?” 

“Hmm, yeah, maybe you should get a hairnet.” 

“A hairnet?” Harrington says, scandalized. “You want me to wear a hairnet? Seriously?” 

Billy can’t help but laugh at him, at the suburban house-wife outrage on his face. 

“Listen, man, it’s not about what I want, it’s about safe business practices.” 

“Does Scoops Ahoy seem like the kind of chain that cares about ‘safe business practices’ to you? Dude, Ballast Bubblegum is radioactive, I swear on my life. Nothing approved by the FDA should be that pink.” 

“Since when have you known what the FDA is?” 

Harrington’s smile turns a little wry at that and he takes a long sip of his coke, throat bared and bobbing. Billy adjusts his sunglasses just to make sure they’re still hiding him. 

“Been reading up on all those government agencies lately,” Harrington says, glancing at his kids again, eyes watchful behind his shades, smile placid, “Kind of required reading at this point. What’s with all the letters, anyway? Couldn’t they just name them something that wasn’t a pain to say in the first place?” 

“They’ve got to keep the uneducated masses from asking questions somehow,” Billy shrugs, “Making everything a pain in the ass to tell apart helps.” 

Harrington turns to him with raised brows, lowering his shades to look at him, expression delighted and surprised. 

“Billy Hargrove, are you telling me you don’t trust the American government? How unpatriotic.” 

Billy snorts at that, fishes a cigarette out of his shorts and lights up. 

Billy doesn’t trust the government for shit. He’s not stupid. Korea, Vietnam. The crazy shit that’s still coming out from the earlier days of the Cold War. He’d have to be braindead to trust the feds. The whole thing’s rotten from top to bottom, from the three letter pigs to Tweedledee and Tweedledum sitting at the corner shop in their cruiser. 

Neil had some cop friends back in California. They didn’t do shit about anything if it wasn’t a bank robbery or pushing someone around if they looked like ‘trouble’ – the criteria for which changed depending on the day of the week. Neil hadn’t even cleaned up his act around them all that much. More than that he knows the kind of laws they keep, the kind of things they do to people like him. The cops might not have been able to arrest him just for existing since ’76 but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t beat him to death for it if anyone ever found out. 

So, no, he’s not particularly a fan of Big Brother or whatever. 

But Harrington? He’s the kind of upstanding member of society that volunteers at the police station or on election campaigns. With his parents’ money and reputation, it wouldn’t be strange if he grew up to be some kind of small-town politician. 

Hawkins is the kind of place that really buys into the whole American Dream shit. Working husbands with stay at home wives and two kids with a dog kind of stuff. Wholesome, normal, respectable stuff. They trust the government here. Buy into that ‘serve and protect’ crap Billy’s always known better than to believe. 

But Harrington looks delighted by Billy’s casual rejection of it all, looks like he’s been dying for someone to agree with, someone who wouldn’t laugh nervously or call his mother. Someone who isn’t in fucking middle school. 

“I’m patriotic as hell,” Billy says, blowing smoke up to the sky, “I love beer and a hot dog as much as the next guy. Just would prefer if Big Brother wasn’t watching me take a piss.” 

“Yeah, okay, a real Yankee Doodle,” Harrington says, rolling his eyes, “Big Brother? That’s uh, from that book, right? With the eye.” 

“1984.” 

“Uh,” Harrington says, brow furrowing, “No? ’85? June 15th, it’s – it’s a Saturday?” 

Billy stares at him for a long moment, cigarette dangling from his lips, blinking slow. 

“The book, Harrington. It’s called 1984.” 

“Oh.” 

Harrington flushes, turns back to the water, fidgeting with his bottle. He’s got that same blush he had when Billy was bothering him at work, before Kathy ruined it, like he’s embarrassed. But not – not in a bad way. The line between embarrassment and humiliation is thin as a knife’s edge for him, but Harrington seems to walk it effortlessly. He knows how to be embarrassed without being particularly ashamed, knows how to not let it hurt. Not let it slip and cut too deep. 

“It was written in the 40’s or something,” Billy explains, “as a warning. About government overreach and war and shit.” 

“Yeah, well, that guy was on to something,” Harrington says, shrugging. 

“What, the FBI giving you trouble, pretty boy?” 

Harrington pauses, bottle halfway to his mouth, and cuts Billy a look over his still lowered glasses. 

Suddenly Billy remembers himself. Remembers that the FBI probably should be giving Harrington trouble. Billy knows that he’s an accessory to murder, at least. Knows that he didn’t seem too bothered about that. The kind of unbothered that makes Billy wonder if he’s been more than an accessory. 

Just because Billy doesn’t want to know doesn’t mean someone else doesn’t. 

They’d buried Neil in a patch of dirt somewhere up north, closer to Roane than Hawkins proper. The only Catholic cemetery around for a while. There had been a few graves there, fresh, dates ending in ‘83. The year before they moved here. The year Will Byers died and was resurrected, a cornfed Christ figure that no one seemed to rejoice except for his mother and his gang of nerdy apostles. 

Billy hadn’t asked about the strange number of corpses that cropped up that year.  

He doesn’t want to know. 

[banilikesfictionalpeople]

oh to be as smart as dustin henderson, lucas sinclair, mike wheeler and will byers.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Just for anyone wanting to know, I calculated it, and Hawkins is about two hours away from Indianapolis. I like details. According to the Eddie Munson book, anyway.

[byler-com]

Byler makes me want to jump off a cliff and is also simultaneously the only reason I’m alive

[sofiiel]

Eddie refusing to play basketball. No, he's not putting on the gym uniform and probably ranting about how it's not laundry day.