#he feels some kind of way about Eddie thinking he’d cheat

[otteranha]

Eddie’s worrying himself sick over this weird change in Steve, the sudden secretiveness- telling Eddie he was driving Erica and her minions to get ice cream when Lucas told him that Erica was grounded, abandoning their shared hamper and tossing his dirty clothes straight into the washer, and whenever Eddie comes home Steve’s always freshly showered.

Eddie is heartsick but he has to face the truth- Steve is cheating on him. He wants so badly not to believe it but he has to know, he has to know. The next time Steve heads out on one of his bullshit errands while he thinks Eddie has band practice, Eddie follows him.

And that is how he finds out that Steve is going behind his back…. and playing pick up basketball in the park.

[headkiss]

do you think i have forgotten?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you loved steve harrington years ago, and he loved you. now, coming back to hawkins, you find that things may not be so different.

word count: 14.1k

warnings: fluff, smut, a little angst, exes to lovers, very much idiots in love!

a/n: here it is!!! i hope u guys like it!!! it took a while but hopefully it was worth it <3

༄

A ‘welcome home’ banner hangs lopsided on the wall.

The party is smaller than the ones you’d become accustomed to at school. That didn’t matter. What did was that your favorite people were around for this one.

It was meant to be a surprise, but Nancy gave you a heads up. She knows you hate surprises, you just don’t have the heart to tell Robin, who absolutely loves surprise parties. Planning them, to be exact. So, you acted shocked, put on your biggest smile.

It was worth it for the beaming grin on your friend’s face, the tight hug as a hello.

You didn’t realize how much you missed home until now. Until you came back.

Small talk isn’t so tiring when it’s with people you really care about. Eddie and Jonathan, Nancy and Robin, even the kids are there to give you the warmest welcome you could ever have. Hugs from some of them, teasing from all of them.

It’s perfect, but there’s an obvious absence. One you’ve tried and tried not to think about. But here, in this room, with these people, you can tell that without him, there’s a space waiting to be filled.

That space has been left open in your life for years. A gaping hole. Then, when the night’s half over and you’re convinced you won’t see him, you hear one word that has memories rushing back to you. Like a flood.

“Ace.”

There’s only one person in the entire world who calls you that. Steve Harrington.

The nickname isn’t the only thing that gives him away. His voice is engraved in your head, the tone, the way it hits your ears. It’s been years since you last heard it, and still, it feels so, so familiar.

You met in high school. Gym class, actually, and you’d been deemed Ace ever since. By him.

It started with friendship, reluctant at first and then impossibly close. It grew into the kind of undeniable thing that pushed you together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. In love.

He was really, really good to you. So good that you didn’t care about who his friends were or what his reputation was. You didn’t care when things changed and he went from King Steve to the best babysitter around. Over a year, you were together.

Then, he was gone.

When you told him you’d be going away for school, he was supportive, happy for you, even. Then, the day before you were set to move he sat you down and broke your heart. I can't be with you anymore, he said.

Not I don’t want to, or I won’t. Can’t. Like he had no other choice.

To this day, you’re not sure why he did it. You called over and over for weeks when you first got to school. He never picked up. You were only able to check on him through your mutual friends. Robin, Nancy, Eddie, all of them.

One day, he was the greatest thing in your life, the next, he’d completely disappeared from it. Like a ghost.

You pushed yourself through school, tried to let go of him. It got easier, but the pinch in your chest when you thought about him never quite went away. You tried being with other guys again, but nothing stuck. It felt like you were cheating, like you could never fully commit to someone else. Your mind, body, and soul still belonged to him.

It got easier eventually. You can’t remember when it did, but over time, thinking of Steve became less like a stab to the chest, and more of a pinch.

When you spoke to your friends, they’d mention him briefly. In passing, like they didn’t want to hurt you with something as simple as a name. You knew he was working at Family Video with Robin, you knew his parents were around even less than they used to be, and you knew he went on dates. Often.

Steve spent every year of you being away trying to convince himself that he did the right thing.

He missed you constantly, but he felt like he’d be holding you back if he stayed with you. A distraction from your college experience, a boyfriend who couldn’t even make it to college himself. Not enough for you.

Now, seeing you at the welcome home party Robin put together, he feels like the biggest idiot in the world. Universe, even. Because how could he have let go of someone that lights up the room like a ray of fucking sunshine.

It’s pathetic that all he could say to you after all the years was his nickname for you.

You turn around after hearing it, the sight of Steve a punch in the gut. He’s just as pretty, if not more, and though he mostly looks the same, he’s grown in ways you weren’t there to see. He’s almost a stranger now.

“Steve,” you manage. “You’re here.”

“Hi.”

It took a lot of convincing from the gang for him to come. Not because he didn’t want to (he wanted to see you more than anything), but because he didn’t want to do anything to make you upset.

Your haircut is different than before, and you hold yourself in a new way, too. But, as soon as he finds your eyes he feels like he’s in high school again, laying in his bed facing you or laughing at the back of the movie theater.

He thinks of the last time he saw you, the tears leaving trails down your cheeks, the way you didn’t let yourself sob until he walked out. His stomach is in knots.

“Hi,” you hold yourself back from reaching out and poking him to make sure he’s real. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Well, surprise,” he sings the second word and throws up some awkward jazz hands. A glimpse of the dork you remember.

Surprise indeed.

“I can leave,” he offers in your silence. He even turns to do so before you stop him.

“No! No, it’s just- it’s been a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. It’s too late for that, and as much as you want to know what happened, why he ended things and just… vanished, you aren’t so stuck on that anymore. Four years is a long time.

You aren’t mad about it, it just never fully left your head.

“How was school?” He asks. Safe, easy.

“Well, I graduated. So, that’s something.”

A wink of a smile has the corners of his mouth twitching up. You’re different, but you’re also the same girl he knew. It’s nice to see again, to have hope that he didn’t destroy you.

“I knew you would,” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to feeling so awkward around you. “You can write your own essays, after all.”

That one makes you huff a laugh, makes you think back to late nights spent helping him fix up his writing. Red pen doodles and way too many distractions.

“One of my many talents,” you say.

There’s another pause, a stillness that feels so wrong for the both of you. He put the distance there, and he hates himself for it. “I’ll be seeing you around then?”

“Yeah, Steve. I’m home.”

Yes, he thinks. You are home. Hawkins was missing something without you in it. Or maybe that was just him. Missing something without you.

Just as you’re pulled away into a conversation with Robin and Max, Steve grasps your wrist gently. Your skin burns with the familiarity of his touch. Aches with the memory.

“It’s good to see you, Ace.”

Then, in a blink, he lets you go.

When you turn away, Eddie comes up beside Steve, claps a hand on his back. “Nice, man. Not weird at all.”

“Shut it, Munson.”

Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off of you. He searches for you when he hears you laugh, can feel his pulse jump when you throw your head back the way you always have. He lets his eyes linger when he knows he shouldn’t.

You catch him once. You can feel his stare on you like a breeze, tickling the back of your neck. When you turn towards him your eyes lock, just for a moment.

-

Hawkins is mostly the same. The stores on Main Street still have worn awnings, letters faded and colors dimmed. The arcade sign still flickers, Enzo’s is still the best restaurant. The movies where Steve used to take you on dates, his house with his BMW in the driveway.

It’s hard to be back and not let Steve bleed into everything.

At school, it was easy not to think about him. You’d bury yourself in studying and projects. Here, he’s everywhere you look. The town is painted with memories of you and him. He’s written all over the place.

You thought you were over what happened, that you could come home and not let it phase you. You had no idea it’d be like this.

Despite it all, you’re glad to be home. You like waking up to the peacefulness of light wind and leaves rustling. It’s a lot nicer than a dorm building full of students and the constant noise of the city.

You’re tremendously happy to be so close to your friends again, too. There’s no more worrying about whether or not you’ll see them anytime soon, no more sporadic phone calls that just make you miss them more.

But still, there’s that empty space. Steve-shaped.

The next time you see him you’d decided to visit Robin at work. It took you about a week of being home to get yourself to go into Family Video, knowing Steve works there. You have to get used to him again.

Sure enough, when you walked in, there he stood. Green vest and all.

When the bell above the door jingles to signal your entrance, Steve turns to look at you. He sets down the box of stock he’d been holding, and your eyes follow the way his arms flex before you can tell them not to.

“Ace, hi.”

“Hey,” you send a short wave his way, rocking on your feet. “I’m just meeting Robin for lunch.”

He probably knows that, but you say it anyway, trying to fill the void of silence that hums between you.

“Yeah. She’s in the back already,” he says. “I can show you.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He almost places a hand at the small of your back to guide you, just like he used to. It’d be so natural, so simple. Instead, he clenches his fist by his side and shuffles in front of you, nodding his head for you to

follow.

“So, um,” he stops in front of the door to the back, turning to face you. “We still do movie nights. All of

us, like we used to. You should come.”

“Are you sure?”

Movie nights are always at Steve’s, and you don’t want to be there if it’ll cause any problems, as much as you’ve missed the sense of tradition. Routine.

“There’s an open spot on the couch for you anyway. Always has been.”

When you were away, you worried your friends would replace you. Forget about you, even. That clearly wasn’t the case.

“I’d love to go. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“As long as you still don’t mind Eddie talking through the important parts.”

You shake your head, a small, close-mouthed smile on your face.

“Wouldn’t be a movie night without it.”

The bell above the door rings again, and Steve turns to see the customer. “I should get back.”

You nod. You watch him go, watch him greet the woman who walked in with his classic smile.

You just have to get used to him again, that’s all.

-

Walking the steps up to the Harrington’s front door is something you’ve done time and time again. So, it shouldn’t feel so odd, really.

It used to be an almost daily occurrence. Now, it takes you some mental preparation before you can bring yourself to knock on the door. This time, it isn’t Steve who answers, it’s Robin. You’re grateful for it, because stepping into his house again is already a bunch to take in.

“You came!” She says, grinning.

“Of course I did. I missed movie nights a bunch.”

You really, really did.

While you had a couple of friends in Indianapolis, the connections were shallow. Especially compared to what you have here. There, they were friendships formed from convenience. Roommates or project partners. It was a lot lonelier than you let on.

“We missed you, too.” Robin walks you into the living room, where cheers of your name ensue.

“Look who it is,” Eddie speaks from where he sits on the ground in front of the TV, setting things up.

There’s a shift from the loud, giddy greetings when Steve walks into the room, bowl of popcorn in hand. It’s like everyone’s waiting for one of you to burst.

“Hey. You made it,” Steve says. No bursting, just some sort of tension that hasn’t gone away since you saw him at your party.

“Yeah. Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Surprised one of them didn’t beat me to it,” he nods at your friends that are scattered across the couches. Your friends whose eyes are ping-ponging between you both.

It’s almost like you can feel everyone take a breath of relief when you plant yourself by the armrest of the sofa. When you shoot Steve a small, barely-there smile. A peace offering.

Halfway through the movie—broken up by constant Eddie commentary, and various ways of someone telling him to stuff it—Steve notices the way you’re curled up, cardigan pulled tight over your body.

He reaches across Robin to hand you a blanket wordlessly. She nudges his shoulder when you aren’t looking, gives him a look that tells him she knows something, even if he doesn’t.

He’s always been attentive, but you’re surprised when the soft fabric is passed over. You wonder if he realizes it’s the blanket you’d always reach for when you were over. If he realizes he handed you the one you’d cuddled him under countless times.

He doesn’t, you’re sure. Why on earth would he remember those things? Or even care?

After that night, the group slowly becomes whole again. The others stop planning separate things with you or Steve. It’s like they waited for you to get acclimated to being around each other again, tested the waters.

It’s as sweet as it is sad. You never wanted to mess anything up, make anything harder.

Though you see Steve a lot more often, your interactions with him remain short and distant. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to feeling so far away from him.

While you were away, over time, the memories became less vivid, as did the pictures that still sit in your bedroom at home. Sun damaged and faded. Your feelings, though, they never really dimmed, only pushed to the back of your mind and shoved into a box labeled Steve.

That box has been bursting at the seams.

Still, you try to keep it shut, to push it all aside and be friends with him again. Or, friendly, at the very least.

Steve keeps a framed picture of you in a drawer in his bedside table. Maybe that’s weird. It used to sit atop of the table, but he moved it when it got too hard to look at your face without thinking of how it looked when you cried.

Having you around again is hard, but it’s more so a relief. He’s missed you so, so much, and even though things aren’t the same and they might never be again, he’ll take you in his life any way he can have you. And this is a start.

The hardest part, he thinks, is burying all the things he never got to say. I’m sorry, I just wanted what was best for you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s no use now, he knows that, so he swallows the words down. They make his stomach ache.

He needs to distract himself from it all, because it’s too much. Seeing your face almost every day again, not being able to reach out and hold it like he used to.

It’s way too much.

-

You got a job at Enzo’s to keep yourself busy.

While you’d love to stay buried in your bed all day, or walk around aimlessly until you end up at Lover’s Lake, sitting by the water and listening to it move, your parents decided it’d be better for you to do something valuable with your time.

Besides, waitressing isn’t so bad. You mostly work nights, allowing you the sleep-ins you love so much, there’s not so much pressure when you already know most of the people you serve, and the tips are always nice.

It’s mostly a breeze—besides a spill incident—until Steve shows up there on a date. Seated in your section.

Your coworker had warned you, “new table for you. Looks like a date.” And there he was. His hair done like always (does he still use Farrah Fawcett spray?) and his dress shirt a little wrinkled.

When it’s time to head over, you shut your eyes and take a grounding breath, slap on your customer service smile. You introduce yourself like you always do, the ‘I’ll be your waitress for this evening’ spiel.

Steve looks up from the menu as soon as he hears your voice. He’s stunned, eyes wide and mouth ever-so-slightly agape while he looks at you. He tries to recover quickly. If he’d known you were working tonight he never would have brought his date here, never would have subjected you to that on purpose. He feels like shit.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” You say. Waitress persona engaged, praying your face doesn’t look forced.

She orders first. Her voice is sweet, and she’s pretty. Why'd she have to be so pretty?

“Just water for me. Thanks, Ace,” Steve says, letting the nickname slip. It’s like he can’t hold it in around you.

“‘Course.” You turn quickly to get their drinks.

“Ace?” Steve’s date, Becky, asks.

“We’re friends. From school. Just a nickname.”

He simplifies it. There’s no point in telling the whole story. It’s over—he’s had to remind himself of that constantly—and it’s his fault. Not the type of thing he needs to share on a first date, that’s for sure.

“Oh, okay. So, what are you getting?” Somehow, she accepts the answer easily.

You shouldn’t feel so shaken by this. Really, you shouldn’t. You were with Steve ages ago, and it’s been over. You don’t have any sort of claim over him anymore. None.

So why is your stomach twisting every time you catch him smiling at something she says?

All you know is that it won’t do you any good to think about that too much. You busy yourself with getting their drinks instead. You approach the table carefully, not wanting to spill anything.

“For you,” you set her drink down. She thanks you. She’s nice, too. “And, water for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You guys ready to order, or do you need a couple more minutes?”

It’s like you’re on autopilot, repeating the same phrases you do to every single table, hoping that it comes out sounding natural.

“I think we’re good,” Steve says, gesturing for his date to go first.

He almost feels like he should apologize to you. Then again, maybe he’s reading into things too far. As much as he feels like he can tell when you’re uncomfortable, when your smile is forced, he has no idea if your habits are the same as they used to be.

You’re cautious not to let your hands touch when you collect the menu from Steve.

The rest of their dinner is much the same, and you’re grateful any time you can distract yourself with a different table. Your actions are stiff, your words practically robotic.

Still, before he leaves, Steve leaves you a tip and a scrawled note on a crumpled receipt: ‘Thank you. Sorry for the ambush. -Steve.’

You still have notes from him, in that same, charmingly messy handwriting, buried in a shoebox in your closet. Notes you didn’t have time to get rid of in your rush to move. Notes you should probably get rid of.

Not only did he leave you a note, he was outside waiting for you when your shift was over.

He wasn’t going to wait. He was going to leave it at the note and hope that you weren’t bothered as much as he thought you might be. Maybe it was stupid to think you’d be affected by him being with someone else in front of you after all this time, but he couldn’t ignore the instinct he got when he saw the look on your face. The guilt he felt.

He catches you as you walk out the door, startling you a bit, “Ace, wait up.”

“God, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry,” he says, falling into step beside you as you walk to your car. He’d parked two spots over. “Actually, I just wanted to say that. Sorry, I mean.”

“You already said that,” he tilts his head, a question. “On your note.”

“I didn’t want you to think I did that on purpose. I didn’t know you worked at Enzo’s until tonight, actually.”

“I haven’t been for long,” you amend. “I’m not upset with you, Steve.”

The words hold a lot more meaning than you expected. You really aren’t upset with him, not over tonight, and not over what happened years ago. You’re more upset with yourself for letting it get to you even now.

“Good. That’s- I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words are heavy, too. You’re too tired to hold the weight.

“What about your date?” You stop next to your car. He stops, too.

“I drove her home already. Came back after.”

Really, he was halfway home after dropping off Becky, but he couldn’t shake his worry that he’d caused even more strain on your relationship. He turned around without a second thought.

“She seems nice,” you say.

“Yeah,” he looks around the parking lot, stares at the streetlight for a second. “So, we’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” you confirm.

You can’t help but hope that saying it out loud will make things feel better with him. That maybe, you could be some sort of friends again.

He nods, “okay. Sorry again,” he searches for his keys in his pocket, “have a good night, Ace.”

He walks the short distance to his car while you fumble to unlock yours. Climbing in and shutting the door, you let your head fall against the steering wheel, forehead pressed to it.

What a night.

-

Steve’s seen Becky a few times since the date at Enzo’s.

She is nice, and he does like her, but he hasn’t been able to let her kiss him anywhere other than the cheek. So far, she hasn’t said anything, but he knows that he won’t be able to dodge her without question for much longer.

When you were gone, though it took time, he was able to be with other people. It never lasted long, and he rarely went through with things without thinking of you at least once. He can’t even give someone a peck on the mouth.

It’s like as soon as he thinks he can lean in and do it, his mind is all Ace Ace Ace, and he finds he can’t.

He’s trying his best to ignore it, to hope that in getting used to you being back, he’ll get used to not being with you, too. So far, it hasn’t been working very well. He dreams more often than not, and even in sleep, he can’t seem to escape your face.

Instead of digging into whatever mess he’s sure that’ll cause, he’s been seeing Becky.

It’s unfair, he knows it is. To her and to you, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He isn’t thinking straight because you’ve rushed back into his life so quickly he can’t catch up. He’s trying to bury the feelings he has for you by focusing on someone else.

Though, maybe focusing isn’t the right word, because his mind still wanders to you. A bunch.

He’s confused and he’s scared and he misses you. He doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s pushing to the surface once again now that you’re home, and he doesn’t want to because he’s afraid of what it’s sure to become. What might’ve never even left.

He misses you but he can’t do anything about that. So, Becky it is.

-

The breeze tickles your cheeks as you make your way through the trailer park in search of any of your friends.

Somehow, Eddie and his band managed to make their own gig out by the picnic tables, and, of course, he’d invited the group to come watch. When you first became friends with Eddie, he was reluctant to let you all in on his music. Now, though, he lets everyone know there’s a spot for them saved at every performance.

You follow the noise, finding where a small crowd of people has formed by the tables that have been pushed together to serve as a stage. Probably an unsafe one, at that, but it’s Eddie. He cheers when he spots you from where he stands on the middle table.

“She’s here!”

“Can't miss the first show I’m back for, can I?”

“The rockstar would not have that,” Robin says, giving you a quick side hug.

“Thank you for calling me a rockstar,” Eddie replies.

You say your hellos to the others, Nancy, sitting on the bench attached to the table Eddie’s stood on, Jonathan, fiddling with his camera.

“Is Steve not coming?” You ask. Hopefully in a casual way.

“No, he is,” Nancy says.

“Likes to be fashionably late,” is what Robin has to say.

You nod, turning your attention to Eddie, “so, how many of these songs are new?”

“To these fools, none,” he points lazily around the group. “To you, all of them.” He smiles, and it makes you smile, too. You’ve missed being able to support him in person.

“Can’t wait to hear them, then.”

“Dingus!” Robin yells happily.

You know she’s talking about Steve. You turn around to find him. Probably too quickly.

“Hey guys,” he waves. It’s then you notice that he’s not alone. His date that he took to Enzo’s is with him. She waves, too, her arm curled around Steve’s. “This is Becky.”

She’s met with polite greetings. Your mouth, for some reason, stays shut.

Robin comes to stand beside you. She looks at your expression, the shock that you shake your head to clear, the tiniest bit of hurt that lingers in your eyes. You look at her, and she raises her eyebrows at you, are you okay? It’s silent, but you know it’s what she’s asking.

Isn’t that a question. You don’t know why your stomach sinks when you see her with him. Again. Well, maybe you do know, you just don’t want to accept it. The feelings you’d had for Steve were meant to be long, long gone.

Only, since being home, you’ve realized they aren’t.

Even though things with Steve have been far from the same as before, even as when you were friends, he’s still Steve. He’s the kind boy you knew, only older. He still cares about the kids the way an older sibling would, he still puts his friends before anything, and he’s still the greatest person you know.

You simply shrug at Robin.

Then, Becky’s in front of you, “we already met, right?”

“Yeah, um, hi.”

“Hi. It’s nice to at least have a familiar face here.”

God, you want to dislike her so bad, but you really can’t. She’s kind, and she’s clearly making an effort to make a good impression. It’s annoying.

Steve knows he probably shouldn’t have brought her with him, but she’s been asking to meet his friends so frequently and he figured that Eddie’s gig would be as good a time as ever. At least here, there’s a crowd to hide in.

He really does like Becky, just not in the way he’s supposed to. He thinks he might’ve spent all of those feelings on you, and there’s no way he’s getting them back.

Eddie jumps down from the table and pulls Steve aside, “what are you doing?”

“Dunno what you mean.” He does, actually. Only, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Come on, man. You can't tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you,” Eddie’s not talking about Becky. He’s talking about you.

“She doesn’t look at me. Not like that.”

“Sometimes you really are an idiot, you know? She looks at you like you put the fucking moon in the sky, all melty and shit.”

“She used to look at me like that. I fucked it up. That’s gone, okay?”

“Is it gone for you?” Eddie says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says. When he looks at you, however, it feels like it matters. A lot.

“Just saying. Think you might’ve brought the wrong lady.”

Steve already feels bad about what he’s trying to do with Becky. Seeing her to distract himself from you. He hates that even his friends are seeing through it. Is it really that obvious?

Eddie turns away to finish setting up with the band. Steve sees Becky talking to you of all people and he almost smacks himself right there. He’s so, so stupid. He walks over, into the mess he’s created.

“Hey, Ace,” he nods at you quickly, then turns to Becky. “Why don’t we go find a spot to sit?”

“We aren’t watching here?”

Steve looks between you and her quickly. Really, he’s just trying to save you from having to talk to her. He can still tell when you’re itching to get out of a conversation.

“Think the speakers might be too loud for you, babe.”

You miss whatever reply she gives him, stuck on his use of the word babe. The last time you heard it come from his mouth, he was saying it to you. It stings even though it shouldn’t.

It’s over. It’s been over. So why is it so hard to forget about it?

-

You never really got used to seeing Steve with Becky.

He didn’t bring her around often—maybe for your sake—but when he did, you’d find yourself keeping your distance. At least one person between you and them, like a buffer.

It felt like the progress you’d made with Steve, with not feeling so far away around him, was disappearing every time you saw her standing with him. You hated it, how you let things affect you.

A couple of weeks went on that way. Then, you got a phone call.

You’d been sitting on your bed, back against the headboard, doing absolutely nothing. The shrill ringing came from your bedside table, and you leaned over to pick it up mindlessly.

“Hello?”

“Ace.”

It’s Steve. He hasn’t called you since you’ve been back. His utterance of your nickname sounds like a breath of relief.

“Steve? What’s going on?”

“Can I come see you?”

“What?” You’re convinced you misheard him, or that something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, promise,” he pauses. “Well, I broke up with Becky. But I’m good, okay?”

He broke up with Becky? He broke up with Becky and decided to call you. You’re not quite sure what to do with that.

“You- did something happen?”

“No, no. Just- I’ll explain everything. Let me see you.”

It's hard to say no to him, and you can’t help but be worried. You say yes, a quiet word whispered into the phone.

“Thank you,” he says. “See you soon, Ace.”

“Bye.”

You barely get the word out before the sound of his phone being hung up echoes in your ear. It’s only then, in the silence of your room, that you notice your heart pounding, a heavy thump in your chest.

Steve knows it’s selfish to want to see you now, after he’s just broken up with someone. It’s the first actual breakup he’s had since being with you, and yet, he’s not even upset. He just wants to see you.

Sure, he liked Becky, but she could never really erase his thoughts of you. He felt awful about staying with her for the reasons he did. So, he broke it off.

Now, he's knocking on your window.

The tapping wouldn’t be so noticeable if you hadn’t been waiting for it. He never did like using the front door.

You open the window for him, move backwards a couple of steps to give him enough room to stumble inside, hair a little messy, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, devastatingly pretty.

It brings you back to high school. Steve, sneaking through your window at night just to fall asleep with you, his arms a safety net, his steady breathing a lullaby. Steve, peering at you through the glass with that grin of his. Steve.

“You know you can use the door, right?” You say.

“Not my style,” he takes a second to look at you. “Hi, Ace.”

You shift on your feet.

“Hi.”

“I know this is…” He trails off. There’s not really a single word for it. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You mean it. Even after everything, he’s Steve over it all. Your Steve, who was the greatest friend you ever had and, somehow, an even better boyfriend. He’s never been horrible to you; not even close.

Sure, he broke your heart and fell away from your life right after that, but you know him. You know there’s something he hasn’t told you about that, and if letting him in through your window again is a step closer to hearing it, you’re willing to take it.

“Even after what I did?”

“I don’t think you could ever really lose me, Steve.”

That hits him in the gut, a painful twist. Because he thought he did. Yes, he broke up with you (he regretted it very quickly), but he’d fought the urge to pick up the phone and call you at school more times than he can count.

“You’re a good person, Ace.”

He’s tiptoeing around whatever he wants to say to you. You talk softly, “why’d you want to see me?”

“I just needed to make sure you knew something.”

“What is it?”

“Just- I never kissed Becky. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.”

It’s the first time either of you have said it so plainly. There’s a wince on his face when he does. Small, but you catch it all the same.

“Robin said you were dating people, though.”

“Yeah, but I never kissed them. Ever. I couldn't.”

He slept with people—which was still hard—but to him, nothing feels as intimate as a kiss. He could never bring himself to cross that line with someone else. Not after how you would kiss him. The way everything else would melt away.

“I need you to know that. And I broke up with Becky because I couldn’t be with her without thinking of-” he stops, shakes his head, like he can’t get the words out. His eyes are holding onto yours when he says, “-someone else.”

“You climbed through my window just to tell me that?”

“I guess I did.”

He hadn’t thought about what comes next, what to do or say. Hell, he could barely even say what he meant in the first place. He wanted to say he’d been thinking of you, but the word got stuck in his throat. He hopes you can still read him enough to know what he meant.

“So, you were with Becky… why, exactly?”

“I thought- I don’t know. I thought I’d be able to push, um, someone else out of my mind if I was with her. I wasn’t, obviously.”

You’re practically speechless. Never would you have imagined that Steve was still thinking of you in any way, let alone so much so that he couldn’t fully give himself to anyone else.

Then again, you were never able to do that, either.

“I don’t know what to say,” you shrug, shoulder to your cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything, really,” he says, though there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You hate to be the one putting it there. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Steve. We aren’t together, I know that.”

He hasn’t been able to forget about that for a day. It’s like his life without you in it was a permanent winter. The snow never melting, the cold sinking into his bones. He hadn’t even realized it until you came back.

The wind picked up, frostbite ate away at him. Then, just like that, the sun was shining again. He hopes the snow will thaw soon.

He feels like an idiot right now. An idiot who can't spit out the right words and who can't leave you alone even when he knows he should.

“I should go.”

“Steve-”

“No, I’ll go. I’m sorry for dropping all of that on you.”

He’s turning his back to you, opening the window, worrying you all over again.

“You can stay.” Please, stay.

“I’m really sorry, Ace.”

Sorry for letting you go, sorry for disappearing, sorry for being a coward, sorry for fucking things up even now.

By the time you gather your wits enough to walk to the window, he’s crossing your lawn quickly. You watch him go until his figure fades into the night, the wind a low whisper in the air.

-

You do a lot of thinking that night, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. After what might be twenty minutes or two hours, you find you aren’t upset with Steve in the slightest. If anything, you’re worried.

And maybe, selfishly, a little hopeful, too.

It’s not even the breakup itself. It’s the way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered and his frustration seemed to soften just a little when he looked at you. It’s the way he had to make sure you knew he hasn’t kissed anyone since you, that he called and came over just to tell you that.

Maybe you should be angry, but all you feel when you think about Steve is something you’d convinced yourself was long gone. A feeling with wings, fluttering.

You decide that you need to talk to him again.

That decision has you walking through the door of Family Video early the next day, when you’re sure it won’t be busy. You had to double check with Robin that Steve was the one opening (you could practically see her knowing smirk through the phone), and sure enough, he stands behind the counter.

The bell above the door jingles, cutting through the silence of the store. Steve glances up to find you, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure you’re really there.

“Am I dreaming?” He says.

Steve was convinced you’d never want to see his face again after the shit he pulled last night. After dumping information on you that you hadn’t asked for, then leaving as soon as he got scared.

“If you are, so am I.”

“Robin’s not here.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to after…” he trails off, like he’s embarrassed to have to bring it up.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I feel like I should be asking you.”

“Steve.”

His name still sounds the best in your voice, he thinks.

“I’m okay, promise. Last night, I guess I just- I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. While I was gone.” Every single day since I left, I missed you.

You’ve both felt it for a long time, but now’s the first time someone’s been brave enough to say it. The words settle in the air for a moment, hanging between you.

“I’m sorry, Ace. For everything.”

You want to fall into his arms as easily as you used to, to squeeze him and tell him it’s okay, it can be okay, if you try hard enough. The counter standing between you stops you from it, maybe for the better.

“Do you think- do you think maybe we can be friends again?”

I don’t know if I can just be your friend, he thinks. Not after knowing what it’s like to kiss you and wake up beside you, to touch you and love you. If it’s the only way to keep you around, though, he’ll give it all he has.

“I’d like that.”

Your smile is almost shy, but it’s there.

“We used to be better at this. Talking, I mean,” you say, trying to be light.

“We’ll get better again.”

It’s quiet again, save for the murmur of whatever movie Steve chose for the morning playing on the TV.

“I hope you know I haven’t been, like, holding a grudge, or anything. I forgave you a long time ago.”

You had to, even when it still hurt, even when you still wonder why things changed so quickly. He’s a human as much as you are, and letting things fester for years wouldn't do either of you any good.

Still, like any wound, it still bleeds from time to time.

“Doesn’t change that I’m sorry, Ace.”

You shy away from the sincerity in his stare, from the brown in his eyes that could so easily draw you back into him completely.

He bends to catch your eye, though, making sure you know he means it.

-

Letting yourself get close to Steve again is easy, it’s the friendship that’s hard.

He’s a good friend, you see it in his interactions with everyone around you. He’s a good friend and still, you can’t stop thinking about the kind of boyfriend he is. Caring and loving, full of touches to give, a hand on you whenever it could be. You miss the warmth of that hand.

You keep that to yourself , though, because things are better. So much better.

You and Steve don’t avoid each other anymore, the smiles aren’t so forced or small, the words not so careful. The only subject you stay away from is the breakup, and even then, you don’t think about it so much now that he’s around again. You think about everything before that. The good and the in love, sticky and sweet.

Tonight, he’s convinced you to come along and chauffeur the kids to the arcade. In turn, you’ve convinced him to go inside with you.

The various neon lights bathe your skin, blues and oranges, pinks and greens. You can't help but think they glow a little nicer on Steve’s face.

“What’s the first game gonna be?” You turn to look at him over your shoulder as you walk between the rows of games.

“Your choice, Ace. This was your idea.”

“Fine by me,” you shrug a shoulder, grinning.

Falling into conversation with Steve proves to still feel natural. You’ve gotten the chance to spend time with him more since you talked that morning at Family Video, and it’s paid off. Light teasing and check-ins are what they used to be before.

The part that still makes your heart beat faster, almost like it’s trying to find his, is what hangs in the silence. There's knowledge there; the silence used to be comfortable, and now, it’s full of questions and tension. What’s too much? What crosses the line of friendship you’ve had to draw?

If you’re being honest, being Steve’s friend almost makes you miss him more. You had to do it this way, though, if only to protect yourself from losing him ever again.

You’ve been pushing away any thoughts of Steve as a boyfriend as far away as you can.

“Okay,” you stop in front of Pac-Man.

“A classic,” he nods, putting change into the slot. “Ladies first.”

“Scared, Harrington?”

“Of you?” He shakes his head. “Never.”

Of what he feels for you, maybe.

You play well, and Steve watches your hands move as you do. He watches your eyes as they flit about the screen, your tongue poking between your lips in concentration. Watches, still, when you throw your head back and groan when you lose.

“My turn,” he says, bumping you over with his hips.

Despite his confidence, Steve loses really, really fast.

“It’s broken,” he declares.

“It’s not,” you say. “Try again.”

“You just like to see me lose.”

You wiggle your way in front of him so that his arms cage you in, one on either side of you, leaning on the game. “I’ll show you.”

He hopes he isn’t breathing as hard as he thinks he is. He can feel the ghost of your back against his chest, so, so close. He slips another coin into the slot and lets you guide his hands to the controls.

His hands are just as warm as you remember. Solid and softer than they look. You refrain from interlocking your fingers with his and focus on guiding him through the game. It’d be so easy to hold his hand, though. Muscle memory.

This time around, even when the screen tells him ‘game over,’ Steve feels like he’s won something at the slightest bit of contact you’d initiated.

Dustin finds the two of you, still playing Pac-Man, and taps his wrist. Duty calls.

After dropping the kids off, the car much quieter, you let yourself look at Steve as he drives. His side profile, the slope of his nose and line of his jaw, the way he squints at road signs.

“You should be wearing your glasses,” you say. You’re not even sure if he still has them.

“You know I hate those things.”

It’s true, you do know that. He barely even wore them around you when you’d been dating. They made him shy, even though you told him he looks pretty either way, any way.

You find that you still know a lot of things.

You still know him. You know that he owns a pair of reading glasses. You know that he scratches the back of his neck when he’s nervous. You know that he knuckles at his eyes when he doesn’t get enough sleep. You know that he sunburns easiest on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders. You know him. All the small things, some he may not even know himself.

You might’ve missed some stuff, but really, you still know him. You still love him, too.

That realization hits you, a gust of wind strong enough to knock you off-balance if you weren’t sitting. You’ve been trying and trying to keep it all away. Yet, here you are, looking at the strand of hair that falls over Steve's forehead, realizing you love him all over again in the passenger seat of his BMW.

Maybe you never really stopped.

“Ace, did you hear me?”

“Hm?” You blink and suddenly he’s looking at you, too. And the car’s not moving. When did that happen?

“You zoned out on me, I think,” he runs a hand through his hair, pushing that strand you'd been focused on back into place. “We’re here.”

Your house, he means.

“Sorry. Thank you for driving,” you say, reaching for the handle and popping the door open. You bonk your head in your haste to get out.

“Shit! You okay?” He says, his hand reaching for you even though you’re too far to touch.

“Yup! Never better.”

Terrified by the four letter word that hasn’t left your head since it came back in, you can’t help but try to get away from Steve, from the boy who’s drawn the feeling from you in the first place without even trying. You hurry to the door with a rushed ‘bye!’

Steve stares at your front door even after you’ve closed it, eyebrows scrunched and mouth in a confused pout. He wonders what you were thinking about as he tried to grab your attention the whole way home.

-

Steve’s made a habit of visiting you at work.

If you’re working during the day, he’ll drive over on his lunch breaks and be sure to be seated in your section. If you’re working evenings, he’ll make some excuse about not wanting to cook dinner and still, he requests your section.

He‘s been coming so often that the hostesses don’t even wait for him to ask, they just nod and seat him at one of your tables.

You’ve had a lot of time to let your rediscovered love for Steve simmer, but it’s always there, making you smile like an idiot when you see him, making you stop yourself from reaching for his hand whenever it’s close enough.

It was naive of you to think you could limit yourself to friendly feelings for him. You know that now.

Walking out of the back, you find him sitting at what has become his usual table. A small round one, usually for two. The chair across from him empty. You like that better than when Becky was the one sitting in it.

“I’m starting to think you have no kitchen at all,” you say, standing behind the empty seat, leaning a hand on top of it.

“You caught me.”

“Seriously, you know you don’t have to come here to see me.”

“I want to come here to see you.”

Really, at this point, Steve thinks he’d be happy to visit you anywhere. Because of that, he’s definitely spending way too much money at Enzo’s.

“Okay then,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, then grab your notepad to write down his order. “What’ll it be this time?”

As much as Steve wishes you could sit down with him, he knows you have a job to do, so he gives you his order and takes any minute of conversation you can give him.

He watches you tend to the other tables you have, your smile and the way you talk, your mannerisms and the pattern of your steps. Often, he wonders if he’d still be sitting here, watching you with something in his eyes that can only be described as longing, if he never broke up with you that day. He likes to think he would be, only he’d be allowed to kiss you goodbye the way he so often wants to.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking to believe he could get to do that again, one day.

Since he felt your hands over his those weeks ago at the arcade, he’s decided he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back. He’ll wait as long as he needs to, and do his best to prove that he won’t hurt you again.

Steve’s never stopped loving you, not for a second, and seeing your face again only reminded him of that. Being your friend again only amplified it.

Even worse, all of your friends are well aware of this. They never let him hear the end of it.

“Here you go,” you say, putting his food in front of him.

He shoots you a quick smile, “thank you.”

“‘Course. And don’t bother paying this time, it’s on me.”

“Don’t do that, I’m paying.”

“I already did it, okay? Just shut up and let me.”

When you walk away, he shakes his head and smiles at your retreating figure. Classic Ace, he thinks, so insistent on doing nice things. Yeah, he’ll wait years if he has to.

You chat with him when you can, telling him about a customer who’d yelled at you earlier in your shift over something so small, you can’t even remember why they were angry in the first place. He laughed through your story and offered to find the person and beat them up for you.

You reminded him that he usually loses fights.

A stern talking to, then, he’d said.

You giggled. Laughs like that came easy with Steve.

You were busy when he left, but when you went over to clean his table you’d found enough money left behind to pay for his food and give you a tip. You rolled your eyes at that. That’s Steve, always being the one to take care of everyone else. He can’t even let you pay for one damm meal.

He’d also left a note scrawled on a Family Video sticky note.

Thanks for letting me bug you again. Hope you’re not sick of me! -Steve x (and keep your money, please).

You folded it into a neat square and put it in your back pocket. This was a habit of his, too; leaving notes behind after he’d leave. So far, you’ve kept them all, in that same shoebox in your closet from high school.

You’re absolutely hopeless.

-

Steve didn’t have an excuse to call you, he just really wanted to see you. Or, hear your voice, at least.

“Hello?” You picked up after a couple rings.

“Ace. You busy today?”

“Mmm apart from laying down all day, no.”

“You wanna come lay down all day here?”

If he couldn’t hear you then, you would drop your face into your pillow and squeal. Instead, you press your free hand to your cheek and try to suppress your stupid grin.

“I guess I can shuffle some things around.”

“You’re awful,” he says. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep.”

A click and it’s quiet again.

It’s not even half an hour later that you’re knocking on the Harrington’s door. Steve opens up quickly (he’d been standing near the door waiting for you) and moves aside to let you in.

Steve scans your outfit as you walk ahead of him. You’re clad in slouchy sweats. He thinks you look beautiful. He thinks it all of the time, but there’s something about you being comfortable enough with him not to dress up that warms him from the inside out.

It reminds him of how you used to walk around his house, whenever his parents weren’t there, in your underwear and his softest t-shirt.

Baby steps, he thinks.

“Are you hungry?” He asks as you plop down onto his couch.

“I'm okay. A little tired.”

“I did ruin your plans of laying around, didn't I?”

“Ruin’s not the right word,” you say. You’d much rather be in his company than buried in your bed, anyway.

He sits next to you after turning on the TV, letting whatever’s playing stay on. There’s a respectable distance between you, your thighs close, but not touching.

“Are you happy you came back here?” Steve turns his head toward you. Here, as in Hawkins. Here, as in with him.

Your head pivots toward him, cheek on your shoulder. Your eyes find his. “Yes. Really happy.”

“Me too.”

There are a million things you could say, but then, in that moment, it feels like you don’t have to. Something silent is being shared. You look back at the TV and sink into the cushions.

As time goes on, your eyes grow heavier, blinking slowly trying to stay awake. Steve notices when your head falls forward a little and you force it back up.

“You’re tired.”

“Worked the closing shift last night.”

“You can lay down. I meant it when I said you

could do that here.”

“I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s kinda the point.”

You frown at him. “But then you’ll be all alone.”

“Just lay down, Ace.”

You roll your eyes but do it anyway. You’d actually been ready to nap when Steve called, but figured sleep could wait.

He tries not to overthink it when he gently places a hand on the side of your head, urging you to use his lap as your pillow. You go easily and blame it on your sleepy mind.

Instinctively, once you’re settled with your cheek on his thigh, Steve pets your hair from your face. He pulls his hand back, afraid of overstepping, but you miss his touch.

“No, don’t. Feels nice.”

“Okay,” he almost whispers.

Steve’s hand goes back to your hair, pushing it from your face, letting his fingers get tangled in it before pulling them back and doing it again. You fall asleep quickly, surrounded by Steve’s scent.

You nap for about forty minutes. Steve’s hand doesn’t stop at all, afraid that you’d wake up. He hasn’t paid much attention to the TV. Instead, he’s been tracing the details of your face over and over with his eyes.

Your eyelashes kissing the skin of your under eyes, the slope of your nose, the way your lips are slightly parted and pouting. He’s known it for years now, but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

All soft and, by his standard, absolutely perfect.

Self-indulgently, he lets his hand wander from your hair, the back of his index finger tracing a delicate line from your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheek. You stir and he feels guilty.

“Did I wake you?”

You blink your eyes open and squint, turning so you lay on your back rather than your side, looking up at him. “Nuh-uh,” you say, even though he did.

If you were woken up like that every day, well, you’d become a morning person.

“Liar.”

“Am not.” He shakes his head, you yawn. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not long. You feel better?”

“Much,” you nod, even though there’s a kink in your neck from the way you had it perched on his lap. You don’t care, it was the best sleep you’d had for a while.

You sit up and stretch until something cracks.

“Thanks for being my pillow.”

“Steve Harrington, human pillow, at your service.”

You push his shoulder lightly, “dork.”

You both laugh lightly. The sound fades when you realize how close your faces are. You reach up and brush the skin under his eye with your thumb.

“Eyelash,” you explain.

“Make a wish.”

When you were young, you wished on every birthday cake candle, every shooting star, that you’d find your person. Then, in your time with Steve, you wished to keep it. Now, as you blow the lash off your finger, you wish to have it back.

“Done.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“If it ever comes true, I’ll tell you.”

He nods, the tips of your noses brush. You can't stop your eyes from flicking to his mouth with him this close, you can feel his breaths, warm puffs of air against your skin.

Steve’s hand creeps up to cradle the back of your neck so gently you could cry. He uses it to guide you forward until your forehead is pushed against his.

“Steve.”

The whisper of his name is what snaps the rubber band. Steve tips your head up and kisses you.

It’s everything you remembered, and everything you’d forgotten, too. His lips are still soft, they still fit with yours the way puzzle pieces click together. Over time, you forgot how his feelings poured out of him when he’d kiss you. Now, he’s shy with it, slow-moving.

He pulls away, just for a second, to look at you, to check that you’re okay. You chase his mouth and he’s a goner, diving back in and inhaling deep at the feeling.

You can feel yourself melting into him, getting lost in the press of his lips against yours.

It hits you that Steve hasn’t kissed anyone since he was with you. That it’s been years since he’s last done this. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.

This is a big thing. Kissing Steve again is a big and scary thing. His free hand laying itself on your thigh jolts you out of it. You pull away, breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, pulling his hands away. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s just- I shouldn’t have done that.”

You’re supposed to be pushing your feelings aside. You’re supposed to be friends, that’s it. You’re not supposed to let it get to this point again, because you know how it feels when it ends. That can’t happen again.

“No, Ace. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be sorry, okay?” You stand up, almost dizzy. “I’m just gonna go, I think.”

“Hey, come on. Stay. It won’t happen again.”

“I just need to, um, clear my head.”

You hurry to the door, trying to slip your shoes on as fast as possible. Steve catches your wrist loosely as you reach for the door.

“You can talk to me. You don’t have to leave.”

“I need to think, Steve,” you open the door. This time, he lets you. Before you close it you turn to him, “I’m not mad, I promise.”

All he can do is nod slowly and stare at the door long after you’ve closed it.

-

You meant it: you’re not mad. Well, not at Steve. You’re mad at yourself, really, for letting yourself fall for him again, for making yourself remember exactly how it feels to kiss him.

You’re not mad at Steve and yet, you haven’t been alone with him since that day. It’s for your own good, you hope. You don’t want to let yourself be with him again because you know what it feels like to lose him. It hurts and it sucks and you’d rather love him quietly than feel that ever again.

It’s game night at the Wheeler’s now, and so far, you’ve lost pretty much every game. You find it doesn’t bother you all that much when you’re around such good people.

As Nancy shuffles Uno cards, you stand, “skip me this round. I gotta pee.”

“Thank you for announcing that,” Dustin says.

“You’re welcome, Dusty,” you ruffle his hair on your way to the bathroom.

Once you’re washing your hands, you inspect yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s frizzier than you’d like and your mascara’s smudged under your eyes. You use your pinky, wet with tap water, to wipe it away.

You unlock and open the door and find Steve leaning against the wall in the hallway. Not expecting anyone to be there, you jump.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, laughing lightly.

“Why’re you standing there?”

“Waiting for the bathroom.”

You don’t point out that there are more than one bathrooms in the Wheeler’s house. Instead, you move out of the doorway and let him go in. Only, he doesn’t move.

“Okay, I lied,” he confesses. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh. Well, here I am.”

“Yeah,” he looks you over, like he can’t help it. “Will you come home with me? So we can talk about…”

As much as you wish you could just forget about that kiss, you can’t. It hasn’t left your mind for more than five minutes at a time. Often, you find yourself pressing your fingers to your mouth, searching for the ghost of his. Besides, how can you say no to Steve saying the words ‘will you come home with me’?

“Okay,” you say quietly, then, more sure, “okay, sure.”

You walked there, and though you’d usually much prefer the comfort of the BMW, you can’t help but worry about what he wants to say the rest of the night.

Once you’ve said your goodbyes and walk towards Steve’s car, you can almost feel Robin’s knowing smile as she watches you climb into the passenger seat.

The drive feels like a dream in the sense that you blinked and it ended. You suppose time can fly when you’re lost in thought, in what-ifs.

You only realize you’ve made it to Steve’s house when you hear the click of the gearshift and the quiet of the engine shutting off that follows. You follow him inside, watching the way he fiddles with his keys, his hand flicking on the lights inside.

He leads you to his bedroom. He knows he could’ve stopped in the kitchen or the living room, but he’s most comfortable in the only room that feels completely his in the house. He needs to be comfortable for this.

You sit on the edge of his bed, and he leans on the dresser across from you.

There’s an anticipation almost humming in the air. Who will speak first, what will they say.

“So-”

“Listen-”

You speak at the same time.

“You first,” Steve offers.

“I’m sorry for running out like that. I was just overwhelmed, I guess. Had to think.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. I feel like I should be apologizing to you.”

For so much more than just that kiss. Then again, he’s not really sorry for kissing you, he’s only sorry for possibly hurting you with it.

“We were doing so good.” He furrows his brows at you in question. “At just being friends.”

“I don’t think I could ever look at you as just a friend, Ace. Not after knowing what it’s like to have you.”

You want to tell him you feel the same, you want to tell him so bad. The words are stuck in your throat. You’re so afraid, so nervous, for what could happen if you try this again.

“Do you regret kissing me?” You ask instead.

“I know I should, but I can’t regret anything with you.”

“I don’t regret it, either.”

The room seems to shrink, the air thicken. Steve’s hands clench on the edge of the dresser, holding himself back, almost.

You don’t think you want him to hold back. You want to slap yourself for it, but you’ve missed the way his kiss melted you every day since you felt it. Maybe, if you can’t tell him, you can show him how you feel.

“Kiss me again,” you say.

“What?”

He must have heard you wrong. Only, when you repeat yourself, he knows he didn’t.

“You’re sure?” He checks.

All you can do is nod, almost eagerly. He pushes off from the dresser and stands in front of you. Your knees brush against the fabric of his jeans as he moves closer. His hands gently cup your face, tilt it up so you’re looking at him.

His eyes flick between yours, and when you nudge your cheek into his hand, like an encouragement, he bends down to place his lips over yours.

It starts gently, like the last one. Steve’s lips glide over yours slowly, making sure you don’t want to pull away. It feels like high school and sneaking through windows, like popcorn kisses at the movies and the feeling of Skull Rock behind your back. It feels like the past and yet, there’s an emotion there that wasn’t before.

Longing, knowing what it feels like to lose this.

It’s gentle until your hands snake their way under Steve’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the sunshine pouring out of him. That’s when his hold on your face becomes a bit more firm, one of his thumbs pushing on your chin to get you to open it for him.

That’s when the dam seems to break.

Steve kisses you deeper and deeper, pushing himself closer and closer until you’re being laid down on the bed. He pulls away from you, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, to give you space to push yourself up to his pillows.

He tugs his shirt off before climbing over you, his hands digging into the mattress on either side of your head, his brown eyes darkened.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yes,” you nod, “I missed you.”

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him back to you, his mouth finding yours easily. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this with Steve, but the rhythm of it all comes easily. It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve spent so long learning what they like.

He kisses you enough to feel dazed, your head a jumble of SteveSteveSteve and your hips canting towards his unconsciously. He’d been holding his weight off of you before that, but feeling you brush against him had him pushing his hips against yours, pinning you to the bed.

You broke the kiss only to catch your breath, and Steve took the time to push wet kisses down your jawline, to your neck, breathing heavy in between them.

Selfishly, possessively, he tugs the neckline of your shirt down and sucks a hickey into your collarbone, licking over it when he’s done. Your hands have buried themselves in his hair at some point, and you feel his groan against your skin when you tug.

He moves down still, pushing your shirt up to bunch underneath your bra and peck his way across your stomach.

“Steve,” you almost whine.

He peeks up at you, “yeah, baby?”

Baby. He hasn’t called you that in years. The sound of the pet name in his voice is enough to have the dampness in your panties grow.

“You’re teasing me.”

“You used to like that,” he pouts.

“It’s been too long. Please.”

He’s trying to act composed on the outside when really, the word ‘please’ leaving your mouth is enough to have him push his crotch into the mattress.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. His hand pauses on the waistband of your pants, “can I?”

“Yes.”

He unbuttons them and tugs down the zipper, sits up on his knees to pull them down and off your legs, your socks and underwear follow.

Steve can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe you’re there, on his bed, looking so pretty for him. He resists the urge to pinch himself.

You grow shy under his stare, his eyes focused where you’re embarrassingly wet all because of him. You try to shut your legs, but he stops you with a hand on your knee, “you’re beautiful, Ace. You don’t need to hide. It’s just me.”

You’re not sure how to tell him the reason you care so much is because it’s him of all people. Steve who you’ve known for so long, Steve who you used to have, like this. Steve, who you love.

He lays down between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs, thumbs running back and forth soothingly across your skin. He kisses up your thighs and pauses when his breath hits your cunt. He glances up at you for permission.

You nod, a hand finding one of his on your leg and weaving your fingers together.

You try to keep your head up to be able to see him, but as soon as he runs his tongue up your slit it falls back into the pillow, a gasp escaping you. You squeeze his hand in yours.

Steve works you quickly, so much so that it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten a single thing about you.

His tongue runs over you again and again, your slick surely all over his mouth. When it hits the bead of your clit, your free hand is in his hair again. He grunts into you at the pull, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of it all.

When your hand squeezes his even tighter, Steve moves his free hand to your entrance, his mouth hit around your clit. He works a finger in, then a second. He curves them and searches until he finds the spot that makes you whimper out a noise he wants to hear again.

“Steve,” his name a breathy moan.

“Go on, baby. I can feel it. You wanna come?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“I've got you.”

He works his fingers quicker, puts his mouth back on you and flicks his tongue and just like that you’re being pushed over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands holding him even tighter.

He watches as you come down, his cheek against your thigh, “so pretty.”

You manage a lazy smile, taking your hand out of his hair, “sorry. Did that hurt?”

“I liked it. You know that.”

He moves back up until his face is above yours, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him.

Your hands trail down his back, his muscles shifting as he holds himself up. They land on the waistband of his jeans, tracing it around to his stomach, letting your fingers go further, feeling the skin just above his underwear.

You pull back from his mouth to glance down to where your fingers run back and forth over his skin, pausing to undo the button of his jeans.

“Who’s teasing now?” He says, voice low in your ear.

A shrug is your reply, followed by his zipper being pulled down slowly. His head bends to watch your hands work his pants and boxers down enough to free him, his cock hard and pink at the tip, pretty as ever.

You wrap a hand around him, “better?”

“Much.”

You work him slowly, like you’re trying to remember the feeling of him, your hand pausing at the tip to let your thumb run over it.

Steve tried to remember the way your hand felt against him when he was desperate and alone. Now, having you again, he knows his imagination could never do you justice. You’re soft in a way he never could be.

When you squeeze him a bit tighter, moving a bit quicker, he drops his head onto your shoulder, groaning.

“Ace.”

“Uh-huh?”

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come,” he picks his head up, sets his eyes on yours, “I don’t wanna come like this.”

“Feels nice in my hand, though.”

“I can make it feel a whole lot better, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you, Ace.”

“I want you, too.”

He pecks your lips quickly before standing to take his pants off fully. You take your shirt and bra off at the same time. It makes you nervous to be naked in front of him again, and the way he looks at you doesn’t help. It’s a searing gaze, almost burning your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost like he was saying it to himself.

He climbs over you once more when you make hands at him. His skin is warm, mirroring the way you feel all over. Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, trails his hand down your neck, to your chest. He cups you in his palm, squeezing lightly then letting a thumb run over your nipple.

You bite back a whimper.

His mouth gives the tit that isn’t in his hand attention, pecking and sucking and licking.

“Steve,” you push your hips up.

“Sorry, baby. Missed these girls, too.”

You roll your eyes.

He kisses your cheek and takes the hand off your chest to hold himself, running his head up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. When he pauses at your entrance, he looks at you.

“You’re still okay? Still want this?”

You nod, hands running in circles on the back of his shoulders, “yes. I’m ready.”

He’s big, and the stretch of him pushing into you is sharper now that you’re not used to it. He soothes you with sweet words and soft kisses to your neck.

Halfway, he checks in, “good?”

You wrap your legs around his thighs and pull him in the rest of the way, whining when his pelvis is against yours.

“Fuck,” he says into the skin of your neck, just below your ear. “You’re heaven, Ace.”

“Move, Steve,” your hands tighten on his shoulders. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling back slowly only to push in again. You can feel everything, you think. Maybe because it’s been so long or because sex with someone you love is better than any other sex. Maybe it’s just Steve.

He’s all over you. His hair tickling your chin, his mouth open against your neck, breaths hot against your skin. He’s in your mind and in your heart and in you, deeper than anyone else. You feel so full. Of him, of emotion, of memories of nights you used to have just like this one.

Full of him in every way.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says. “There’s nobody like you. No one, Ace.”

“I-” love you, you almost say. “Steve.”

The pitch of your voice tells him to go faster, and he lifts his head to see your face. Mouth agape, soft moans and breaths spilling out, eyebrows scrunched, eyes falling shut when he finds your spot.

“Open your eyes,” he says, softly. “Come on, baby.”

You do, blinking them open and looking up at him. His hair is a mess around his head, sweaty strands falling over his forehead, his cheeks are flushed pink and you’re sure they’d be warm to the touch.

He drops his forehead against yours, your sounds and breaths mingling between your mouths, your noses nudging against each other with every push of his hips.

Your arms go around his neck, one hand tangling itself in the hair at the nape of his neck. You’re getting closer and closer and by the way his movements grow just a bit faster, a bit sloppier, he is, too.

“Ace. Baby, you’re there, yeah? I can feel you squeezing me,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

“So close, Steve.”

He’s holding himself up on one elbow, trailing his free hand down to rub circles over your clit. “Come on.”

You finish with a cry of his name, your eyes squeezing shut. It’s overwhelming, the feelings that blind you. The pleasure and the affection, the heat and the love you really don’t think you could imagine. So much so that tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

He’s not far behind, “shit. Where do you want me?”

In your haze, you can barely manage a reply, “tummy.”

He pulls out and jerks himself until you can feel him coming on your skin. He moans and it’s a beautiful sound. You run your hands over his skin through it all, grounding him and yourself.

Your foreheads are still together, slick with sweat.

“Fuck,” he pecks you once, twice, three times. “You okay?”

“Really good.”

“Will you stay?”

You hadn’t even thought of leaving. You wouldn’t dream of it. Not now, at least, in your post-orgasm daze where fears and worries don’t reach you.

“Mhm,” you hum your agreement.

Steve’s grin splits his cheeks, wide and toothy and infectious enough to make you smile, too.

“I’ll be right back,” he rolls away from you, standing beside the bed. Before walking away, he bends to peck you again. He heads to the bathroom after that.

You note the freckles that dot his back and shoulders as he goes. A constellation you never forgot; burned in your memory. One you used to play connect the dots with in the mornings.

He comes back with a wet cloth, wiping his come from your stomach and then cleaning you up as gently as possible, giving a soft apology when you whimper in sensitivity.

He tosses the cloth aside when he’s done and searches his drawers for a clean pair of boxers. He tugs them on then finds a baggy sleep shirt for you. You watch him the whole time, the way he moves and the way the streetlights seeping in through the window light his skin.

Coming back to you, he tells you to sit up and puts the shirt over your head. He didn’t even have to ask, he knows what you like to sleep in. When you look at the shirt he picked, you find it’s one that used to be your favorite.

You bring the fabric to your nose and hide your grin in it.

Steve pulls the blankets over you, then himself when he lays down beside you. He doesn’t even hesitate before tugging you closer with an arm around your waist.

“I really missed you, Ace.”

“Missed you, Steve,” you reply sleepily.

He kisses your forehead.

You fall asleep easily, Steve’s fingers running back and forth over your skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

-

Steve wakes up before you do.

You’ve both moved in your sleep. Now, you lay on your stomach, face turned towards him and cheek squished into the pillow. He lays on his side, propped up by his elbow, looking at you.

He looks at you, asleep and pretty, and wonders how he could ever give you up.

His free hand tucks your hair behind your ear, away from your face, brushes his knuckles across your cheeks as lightly as possible. He moves to your arm and traces the words ‘I love you’ into your skin.

He draws the words over and over, only pulling his hand away when you rouse.

You breathe in deep before opening your eyes, moving your head on the pillow to look over at Steve properly. His eyes are already set on you, puffy with sleep and full of something you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

“Hi,” his voice is different in the morning, lower.

“Hi.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you stretch your legs and turn onto your side. “You?”

“Better than I have in a while, actually.”

You can tell that there’s something he wants to say, that he’s thinking of the words. It makes you nervous, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. Maybe he regrets it. Almost worse, maybe he doesn’t.

“Can I say something?”

“Steve-”

“No, let me say it. If you hate it, we can forget about it, okay?”

His eyes are soft, pleading. You can tell that whatever it is, it really matters to him and there’s no way you can ignore that.

“Okay.”

“I still love you.”

His words hang in the air, your chests both rise and fall a bit quicker, hearts beating faster in tandem.

You’ve been dreaming of him saying it to you, and yet, hearing it out loud, you can’t help but be terrified. You love him, you know you do, and it scares you. It’ll hurt worse the second time around if you lose him.

“I still love you,” he continues in your silence. “I miss you so much, Ace. I want to do it again. I want to be with you and do it right.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You didn’t. You won’t. I’ve thought of you every day since you left,” his hand finds yours atop the sheets, fingers linking. “I didn’t want to break up with you, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Why did you?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. Squeezes your hand, too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. You were going off to school and I’d be here and I didn’t want to hold you back. I wanted you to go and to do it fully.”

Your heart pinches in your chest. Steve really believed he’d been doing you a favor by letting you go.

“It hurt for a long time, Steve. I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you again, Ace,” he swipes away the tear that falls from your cheek. “Just answer one thing for me?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

It’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Of course I love you, Steve. I would’ve stayed if you asked me to.”

“That’s why I did it,” his thumb runs over your cheek gently. “I couldn't let you give it all up for me. But you’re back now, and I love you and you love me. Let me try again.”

You want to say yes. So badly, you want to be with him. So why can't you just say it? It’s like glue’s been dropped down your throat, sticking all the right words in it so that nothing useful comes out. You try anyway.

“I’m just scared.”

You shut your eyes.

“Will you look at me?” You do, and right then it’s hard to feel scared anymore. He’s looking at you like he’s never been more sure of anything. “You’re my forever. I know you are. Let me show you.”

You focus on his hand in yours, his touch on your face. You focus on the fact that this is Steve. Steve who you love, who you know you want to be with past all the fear and worry.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay? Like, you’ll be my girl again?”

“Yes, yeah.”

His grin spreads wide enough to have his eyes crinkling at the corners. He rushes forward to kiss you, three quick pecks broken by your smiles.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask him, suddenly brave, like his kiss fixed everything.

“Anything.”

“I wished for you. On that eyelash. The day we kissed.”

He kisses you again for that.

༄

thank u for reading! if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought it would mean a bunch <3

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 6

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 6/? 4.6k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Your 30th birthday is nothing like you imagined, but Eddie has a surprise for you.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: drinking, angst

It was quiet in the early morning of your 30th birthday. Still dark outside, as it always was when you rose from bed at 5:10 AM.

You looked in the mirror, at your face still puffy from sleep. The harsh light above your bathroom sink was bringing out the darkness from under your eyes. Leaning closer, you ran your fingers over your pores to feel for imperfections, noting how large some of them seemed to be, especially at this time of day. There were a few raised bumps too. You couldn’t believe you were still getting pimples at this age. 

You brushed your teeth and washed your face. The cool water felt refreshing on your skin still warm from sleep. You rubbed on your favorite skin cream and blotted some concealer over the spots that needed it, blending it out with your finger. You then brushed on your eyeshadow, curled your eyelashes, and flicked your mascara wand over them, bringing your face to life more and more with each step.

Taking in your features, you looked at yourself for a long moment. Your eyes traced over the lines of your jaw, of your nose, and the shape of your eyes, all coming together to form you. A soft smile made the lines of your lips even plusher. 

Timeless.

Assessing your hair, you styled it a bit differently today.

It was casual Friday, a concept which you always thought was kind of hokey but you would take any excuse to wear jeans for a change, something that felt a bit more like you and less like a costume. You had a pair specifically in mind for today — your favorite. The lightwash Levi’s that hugged you in all the right places.   

You wondered for a moment if he’d notice. Shaking your head, you chastised yourself. Here you were, officially 30 years old, and you had spent the last four days thinking about a thumb. It was bold what he did in the parking lot on Monday, even for him. He’d been sending all sorts of signals for the past three weeks since you started tutoring him, but there was no mistaking this one. 

Eddie Munson had a crush on you. If you had any doubts before, his thumb had squashed them.

It was a common thing for students to have crushes on their teachers. Common enough for Van Halen and The Police to write hit songs about it.

But Eddie Munson was 20 years old, and you had a crush on him too. A bigger one than you cared to admit to yourself. In any other context, this wouldn’t be a problem. In the context of your job, it was an enormous one. At the same time, it was hard to remember the last time you looked in the mirror and felt this way. 

You wondered if he woke up in the morning and decided what to wear with you in mind. You wondered what he thought about as he watched you from the back of the classroom every day. Wondered what sort of scenarios the mind of a horny young man could conjure up on a daily basis, what he imagined doing with you, to you.

You shook your head again, feeling a twinge of guilt. What on Earth were you doing?

Then again, you couldn’t get in trouble for your thoughts. So long as you didn’t act on them.

You sighed and gave yourself one final look up and down in the mirror, turning to glance at every angle.

Timeless.

______

“Come on, come on.” You wanted to kick the Xerox machine. It hummed and sputtered, spitting out the top half of a paper, the bottom half crinkled in a jam, as if it had been hungry and thought the tests for your second period sophomore class were a tasty snack. It didn’t help that there was a line forming behind you.

You had been at work for all of ten minutes and it was already going south. Grabbing the paper, you yanked slowly, trying not to rip it as you un-jammed the machine.

“Hey happy birthday!” said Diane, waving a card in front of you with your name on it. “Off to a great start I see.”

You chuckled and took the card. “Yeah, I think it knows.” 

“I hate this thing,” said Diane. “I don’t need to use it nearly as often as you do, I feel lucky for that.”

Tugging on the paper again, you slowly and steadily worked it out of the clutches of the machine. “There we go.”

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she said to the machine. “Give the girl a break, it’s her birthday for crying out loud.”

You chuckled and started the copy job again. “Ok, you better behave now. This is the last warning.” The machine whirred and beeped, thinking a moment before it began to spit out fresh, clean, uneaten copies of your test. “There you go, jeez.” You grabbed your card stepped off to the side running your finger under the top edge to rip the envelope. “Thanks, Diane.”

She smiled, “This one’s from the faculty, you’ll get mine later tonight,” she said with a little wink.

Opening the card, you took in the generic birthday wishes of your coworkers in different handwritings and inks. With a soft smile you tucked it into your leather grading binder.

You wished you could have said the day turned around after that, but the copy machine jam was only the beginning. A student got sick in your first period class and the room smelled for the three periods to follow, even after the janitor came.

There was a food fight during lunch period and you stepped in mashed potatoes as you exited the teacher’s lounge, tracking it all the way back to your classroom before you noticed. It was caked into the bottom of your boot and the tissues you had on your desk did a mediocre job at removing it from the crevices.

Your seventh period class might as well have been sleeping. The walls could have given better answers.

By the time the last bell of the day rang you felt like a frazzled mess. You should have just taken the day off.

You sighed and tidied up your desk, filing away papers and loading up your leather work satchel with folders to take home with you. That was when you heard a knock at the door.

Eddie Munson leaned against the doorframe, rapping his knuckles against it rhythmically. 

Your heart skipped a beat. “Hey Eddie,” you said, looking up from the mess on your desk. 

Eddie walked over to you slowly, his dingy white Reeboks padding softly against the tile floor. “Happy birthday,” he said.

“Oh thank you,” you said with a breathless chuckle. “It’s been a pretty shitty one so far if I’m being honest.”

His strong brows furrowed. “Well, I hope I can make it better,” he said as he extended his hand to reveal two small boxes.

“Oh my god, you didn’t have to get me anything!” you said, coming around the front of your desk to meet him. 

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you took them from him. You turned them over in your hands. They were wrapped in newspaper — the funny section. Your heart swelled as you admired his handiwork before tucking a finger under the tape to break the wrapping.

“Sorry I’m shit at wrapping gifts.”

“Oh hush, you did great,” you reassured, tearing the wrapping off the first box. It was a Black Sabbath tape — Paranoid. 

“I would have gotten you some artists I know you actually like but with these I knew that you didn’t have them already, so…”

“Oh my god, thank you! This is so sweet,” you tore the paper on the other one to reveal Metallica’s Ride the Lightning. 

“I thought that these would be a good introduction to metal, since you said you really hadn’t heard much of it. The Black Sabbath one is their second album, you might recognize a couple songs actually. Dio sings for them now but I figured we’d get you started with the classics and work our way up,” he said with a wink, “And then the Metallica one also has some really good songs on it too.”

You smiled, big and broad. “Thank you so much, this is so thoughtful.” Your arms extended outward before you could even give it a second thought, still holding the tapes in your hand.

In your defense, you would have hugged anyone who surprised you with a gift on your birthday.

His eyes widened as he stepped toward you, bringing his arms around you without hesitation. Not diagonally as you might hug a friend or an acquaintance, but around your waist, guiding your arms over his shoulders. He held you tightly to him.

He wasn’t wearing a jacket or a vest, only his raglan Hellfire shirt since it was a Friday. You could feel him. Feel the shape of his body pressed to yours, of his back as you ran your free hand up and down it reflexively. Feel how solid his shoulders were with the other draped over them. You were worried he could feel your heart pounding through the thin cotton barrier.  

The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, longer than you should have. 

You relaxed into the hug and rested your head against his shoulder, letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. His hair pressed against your cheek, softer than you had imagined. There was that scent again — you were enveloped in it. That warm, intoxicating combination of skin, smoke, and laundry detergent. You wished you could bottle it, spray it on everything.

You didn’t want to pull away. You knew you should but you just couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not for another few seconds that stretched on like a small eternity as you committed the touch to memory.

It was really the kind of hug that you get from a lover. The kind of hug that greets you as you step off of a plane. The sort of hug that molds to you, like two interlocking pieces. You felt him sigh.

His arms where strong and safe, one hand running up and down your back soothingly, the other wrapped tightly around the small of your waist. He pressed his cheek against your head.

Finally you gathered the strength to break away. His hands lingered at your waist as you did. 

Eddie’s eyes caught yours as you separated, they were soft and heavy lidded. His irises were deep and warm like Dutch-processed chocolate. You could have devoured him whole.

You cleared your throat and tucked your hair behind your ear, “Thank you. For the gift.”

He swallowed and nodded, “Sure. Give them a listen and let me know what you think.” He swung his hands back and forth, bringing them together in front of his body. “You uh, doing anything fun later?”

“Oh, not anything big or fancy, just gonna go to Pal Joey’s with a few friends.”

He smiled softly, “Sounds like a good time.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good,” you said, turning back toward your desk to finish packing up your things.

Eddie watched you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more but refrained. “Well, I should probably get going. The guys are all waiting on me, so…”

“Have fun, give ‘em hell,” you said with a little wink as you gathered your papers.

“Oh I will,” he said with a smirk, turning to leave. He paused for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” you said softly. “For everything.”

______

The grey sky hung heavy above the parking lot outside Pal Joey’s as the sun began to set. From your dashboard you could see the warm glow inside the restaurant through the large front window. You watched as the bartender served the two patrons at the bar while Black Sabbath’s “Electric Funeral” rang out full force in the speakers of your small sedan.

You thought about Eddie Munson again. Thought about him listening to this same song, only twice as loud and cruising down a dark road at 80 miles an hour. Thought about him at a concert, in a mosh pit, swaying and bobbing with the crowd. There was a quality about metal that swept you up in it. It was fast and driving, loud and heavy. It was alive and full of energy — much like he was.

You thought about Eddie Munson on a stage. Thought about his quick fingers on the fretboard, how his long mop of hair would shake as he bobbed his head with every strum. You wondered if he sang at all, what his bright voice sounded like in song. You thought about him singing to you — to only you. Thought about him sitting on the couch in your livingroom, an acoustic guitar across his lap, singing your favorite song. 

You thought about how good it felt to be in his arms. How safe you felt in them. There was a part of you that felt guilty about it, greedy about it, but you really would have hugged anyone who surprised you with a gift, student or not. It’s not that it wasn’t allowed either. There were plenty of students of yours in the past who had given you a hug. Some as a farewell on the last day of school. Others who really needed it. It was different with him though, and you knew it. But you had an excuse and the too human part of you that growled in the pit of your stomach wanted to know what it felt like.

There was a shadow in your window that startled you. You turned to lock eyes with the blonde as she waved excitedly. 

“Janet! Hey!” you said, flicking the key to your car to turn it off. You dropped it into your purse and hastily opened the door.

“Happy birthday!” she said as you got out of the car. You could smell her hairspray when she hugged you. “Oh my god, look at you,” she said, taking a step back to admire, “You look amazing.”

“Well thank you, so do you.” 

Janet sighed. “Thanks for being so nice. I’m just going to pretend like this wasn’t the second outfit I picked out after the baby got sick on my first one.”

“No, I mean it. You do look nice!” and she did. The perm was new, not new since you saw her over the summer, but new since you knew her in high school. It had been longer back then, long enough to braid at sleepovers.

Janet gave a weary smile, “Well thanks, I’ll take it.” She folded her arms, a curious look playing on her face, “So, you listen to Black Sabbath now?” 

“What? No — I mean yes. Um, I guess now I do,” you said with a flustered laugh, “One of my students got me a few tapes for my birthday, he’s into metal so he wanted to give me an intro to the genre.”

Janet chuckled, “How thoughtful.”

It was hard to tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. “Yeah, it is. I really like it so far actually.”

“I feel like all I listen to anymore is the Muppet Babies theme song. I’d take just about anything over that at this point.”

You heard quick footsteps against the pavement and turned to see Diane hustling up to you with a cake in a tupperware container. “Sorry I’m late, I had to take the dog out before I left,” she turned to you, “Happy birthday, again,” she said with a little chuckle, then turned to Janet, extending her free hand. “Hi, I’m Diane!”

She shook her hand, “Janet,” she said. “I think I remember you actually, from debate team? You were a few years ahead of me.”

Diane blinked, jogging her memory, “Oh! Yes, wait a minute, Janet… Johnson right?”

“It’s Peters now, but yes.”

“God, it’s been ages! How are you?”

“Happy to be out of the house,” she said with a chuckle. “Let’s grab a seat, we can catch up inside.”

Pal Joey’s was one of those places that never seemed to change. It was like stepping back in time to your summers home from college. They still had the same colored glass light fixtures above the bar. Same old metal beer signs plastered haphazardly along the walls. Same red, threadbare carpet by the pool table in the other room. It still smelled like cigarettes, even in the non-smoking section by the front bar where you were directed by the hostess to sit.

You scooted yourself along the vinyl booth bench after Janet, brushing away the hardened French fry crumbs and gritty salt granules as you followed her. Diane sat on the other side. 

You stared down at the smeared laminated menu. The food hadn’t changed either. It was your typical bar food selection of hot wings and burgers, one in particular called The Beast which there was a contest surrounding. 

You weren’t exactly sure what had imagined your 30th birthday being like, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t here.

“Can I get you ladies started with something to drink?” the hostess asked.

“I’ll have a margarita,” said Diane, “Oh, and hers is on me tonight,” she said gesturing to you.

“Oh thank you, you’re the sweetest. I’ll have the same.”

“Make that three,” said Janet. “Oh, and water!”

“Alright we’ll have those right out for you,” said hostess as she scribbled on her notepad and walked away.

You thought about your friends back in Indianapolis. You wondered what they were doing tonight and if they remembered. You wondered if he remembered.

“I’ve got some pictures to show you, before I forget,” said Janet, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a handful of photographs and laid them out on the table.

You and Diane leaned in to look at them. 

“Ok so this is Michael on his third birthday this summer.”

The little boy was towhead blonde, his hair almost white. Pizza sauce had stained his face orange around his toothy little smile. He was sitting in a high chair with Janet behind him, both their faces glowing in the soft light of the birthday candles. You could see the joy reflected in her eyes.

You glanced up at Diane, you could see the ache reflected in hers. You wondered if you were to hold up a mirror to yourself if your face would look the same way. A strange, soft sadness playing on your lips. A gentle longing in your eyes for something that may never come to be.

“He’s adorable,” Diane said softly.

Janet slid another photo to the center of the table. “This is one of Sarah from a few months ago, she’s eighteen months now, which I can hardly believe,” Janet said with a chuckle, “It feels like she was just born yesterday.”

“She already looks just like you,” you said thoughtfully, “I mean I know she’s just a baby but I can already see it.”

You thought about the wedding you were supposed to have next spring. Thought about the photos that she would surely have by then. 

The waitress approached the table with a tray of drinks and that you had never been so happy to see in your entire life. She took your order, just a classic burger and fries. Diane got the mushroom and swiss burger, and Janet got an order of chicken wings and a side salad.

Janet raised her margarita, “To you, my dear. May your thirties be your best decade yet.”

The three of you clinked your salt rimmed glasses together and a smile found its way back onto your face. You hoped she was right.

You took a generous sip of your drink. It went down easy. The lime was refreshing and the salt woke up your taste buds.

“So,” Janet started, turning to you, “Are you still writing? You were always so creative in school.”

“Oh, not much anymore. I guess I just haven’t been feeling that creative lately. Not really in the past few years actually,” you said. “I’m still a big reader though. You should have seen my dad trying to help with all the boxes this summer. He swore they were full of bricks and not books,” you said with a little chuckle.

“Well, maybe you’ll pick it up again someday,” said Diane. “You’ve been through a lot, give yourself some grace.” 

“You’re right, thank you,” you said, giving Diane a gracious look.

“How are your parents, by the way?” asked Janet. 

“Oh they’re fine, my dad keeps talking about wanting to retire but I don’t think he’s quite there yet, and my mom, well, she’s my mom. You know how she is.”

Janet laughed, “Yes, I do.”

“That was one thing about living in Indianapolis, at least I got some space, you know?”

There was a loud clanking that rang out from the pool table in the other room, causing you to glance over for a moment.

That’s when you saw it, the mop of wavy brown hair swooshing as the one who made the noise stood upright after taking their shot. You couldn’t even see their body over the booths in front of you, only the back of their head, but your heart rate kicked in full force at the site of them. At the possibility.

Is that?

Only when they turned around did you realize it was a woman.

You took a deep exhale, trying to steady your racing pulse.

You felt like a fool. What were you doing?

Here you were, officially 30 years old, pining for a guy who wasn’t even old enough to have a drink at the bar you were at. A guy who also happened to be your student. 

You took another generous sip of your margarita and looked down at the table, thumbing at the dull rubber rim. A numbing buzz washed over you.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but May wasn’t that far away, when you really thought about it. What if you waited and he asked you out after he graduated? He seemed really interested. It wasn’t an impossible scenario.

Janet and Diane carried on the conversation, talking about their parents.

You tried your best to tune in, but all you could think about was Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson who looks at you like he’s going to kiss you, who leans in too closely, who touches your hand because he can’t help it and flashes you signals with his in the parking lot. Eddie Munson who was gentle and kind and would hurt somebody — for you.

Eddie Munson who said you were timeless.

You wondered if he would still mean it by May.

You downed the rest of your drink and set the glass on the table. Only the ice remained.

“Woo, that’s the spirit!” cheered Janet. “Next one’s on me,” she said, giving Diane a wink.

You offered a weak smile. “Thanks, you guys are so sweet.”

You were thankful when the food arrived. It gave you something to do with your mouth other than talk. Something to focus on other than your blaring thoughts.

All three of you were quiet while you ate. You could tell that your friends were equally as hungry, probably wrestling with thoughts of their own.

You sat back and sighed after you ate as much as you could manage of your burger and fries. 

“Save some room for cake,” said Diane with a wink. 

You gave her a wide-eyed look and the three of you laughed.

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot to ask,” started Diane, “How did that dinner go with your mom and that guy?”

“So awkward that my mom didn’t arrange another one,” you said, laughing probably way too loud.

“Yikes.”

“I don’t miss that part about being single,” said Janet. 

Diane swished the liquid around in her glass. “I’ll tell you what, I’d be pretty lonely if it weren’t for Remi. He keeps me busy and gets me some fresh air during our walks twice a day.”

“Maybe I ought to start thinking about getting a pet,” you said, running your finger along the wet condensation on your glass.

“There are some perks to singlehood that I miss. You don’t have to answer to anybody, well, except Remi I guess,” said Janet with a little chuckle.

“Trust me, whoever I end up with won’t be expecting me to answer to them,” said Diane, taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh you know what I mean, like have to come home and do things for people who can’t do anything for themselves, husband included sometimes,” she said with a snort, “I love my family to death but it can be so exhausting.”

Diane nodded, “Your feelings are valid,” said the therapist in her. Though you could tell there were other feelings under the veil of her mature response.

The three of you sat and enjoyed your drinks and each others company for a while longer while you processed dinner. 

Then came the inevitable song. You knew it was coming when three other servers and the bartender showed up at your table. You braced yourself, smiling awkwardly while your friends howled the familiar tune, the margaritas amplifying their voices.

The cake was beautiful, Diane had really outdone herself. It was a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting and sprinkles on top. 

You stared into the glowing candles as they wavered in the air and took a deep breath. Though it seemed childish and unrealistic, like asking for a pony, you knew what you wanted to wish for. You blew out the candles and let the quiet whispers of your heart sing for just one moment, the smoke writing cursive in the air, like a silent prayer wafting toward heaven as it rose.

There was clapping and cheering from the waitstaff and your friends around you.

It wasn’t until after you had taken your first bite of that delicious cake that your server approached you with another drink.

“From the man over there,” she said, gesturing to a young man in a suit with closely cropped hair seated at the bar. “For your birthday.”

He glanced back at you for a moment and you locked eyes with him, feeling your stomach start to turn. You gave him a weak little smile and glanced away quickly, your face turning as red as your cake.

Diane and Janet looked at each other, their mouths gaping in excitement. You wanted to evaporate.

“Go talk to him,” Janet whispered excitedly. 

“If you don’t, I will,” snickered Diane.

It might have been partially the alcohol but you were starting to feel dizzy. “Oh, I don’t know. Go for it, Diane.”

She gave you a deadpan look. “Come on, I mean he bought you the drink after all.”

“I just… I don’t really know if he’s my type, you know?”

“What is your type?” asked Diane curiously.

“Yeah, I always thought it was brooding intellectuals,” Janet said with a laugh.

Apparently it was metalheads with long hair and loud vans, but you weren’t going to admit that out loud. Especially not in front of your coworker. 

“I guess it just depends on the person. It’s never been guys in suits though.”

You stared down at your fresh drink sitting on its pristine napkin and wondered how wise it was to place your heart in such reckless hands.

After all, time moves quickly for young men.

You of all people would know it.

______

A/N: Woof, am I right? We are beginning to ascend the angst portion of this roller coaster and it’s going up and up for the next handful of chapters so strap in. Next chapter is from Eddie’s perspective *rubs hands together*

Once again thanking all of you for your continued support and enthusiasm. It keeps me going every week to see your excitement and reactions so keep them coming, please! I love interacting with you guys, it makes me feel like we’re all on this journey together.

Your reblogs help this story reach a larger audience and mean so much to me! Thank you 🧡

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[xhoneygirlxx]

Woman

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

summary: all the phases of your relationship with Eddie. Based off of the song 'Woman' by Mumford and Sons.

warnings: reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. talks of bad upbringings, bad relationships, reader gets cheated on. swearing, fluff, angst, smut. 18+ MINORS DNI. if there are any grammar errors, no there's not :) the ending feels rushed so lets not talk about it.

a/n: hi guys i'm honey and this is the first time I've written something since I was 15. I'm not new to this fandom but this page is, so I hope to write more things over time. Please be kind to me or else I'll cry.

The golden rays of the sun filter in from the open window, cascading a pretty glow into the bedroom. A gentle breeze flits through the room, carrying the songs from the birds in the trees. Eddie’s not too sure what time it is, how long he’s been awake, or if he even fell asleep, all he knows is he’s been staring at you. He knows how creepy it might be to do so, he just can’t help it. How beautiful you look shimmering in the morning sunlight like some sort of religious being, a true picture of a goddess laid beside him - his own personal Aphrodite. He marvels at you like you’re a painting on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel. His eyes trace over your features, soaking them all up so he can remember you like this for the rest of his life. Everything about you is perfect, a statue carved from marble by Michelangelo himself.

He’s intoxicated by the scent of you, the vanilla soap you used the night before when you took a shower after work, filling his nose with every breath he takes. His fingertips slowly drag along your skin as he maps out the slope of your body. His touch is featherlight, too worried that his calloused fingerprints will ruin the softness of your skin. He always wonders how you manage to be so soft all year round, albeit knowing you always moisturize, he likes to think it’s all you and not some expensive ass lotion.

Your hair is a bit messy from being tossed and turned on all night, and yet it has never looked so perfect to him, he would never mention it to you knowing you’d scoff in disagreement. Every once and a while, your eyebrows pull together or your lips twitch. He likes to think you’re dreaming of him.

Eddie is one hundred percent sure that if it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of your chest and the soft snores falling from your lips anchoring him to the bed, he'd ascend into the clouds above. Eddie Munson is not a religious man, but he thanks whatever God is up above for sending an angel like you to him. He never understood the people who hand out pamphlets about religions, devoting their whole being for their God, but now he does because he’d do it for you. The poor son of a bitch would build churches and museums in your honor, scream from rooftops, move mountains, and ultimately sacrifice himself for you. Even if it’s sacrilegious to pray to a statue of you, he’d do it every day and night, asking for salvation. No, he wasn’t a religious person but for you, he would be.

From the time Eddie was born, the cards that were dealt to him were just unfair. His mom and dad never loved each other, always screaming and fighting every day creating a war zone instead of a household. After his mom left and his dad was shipped off to prison, his Uncle Wayne took him in. Although he and the older man loved one another, they never really said it, only ever showing it by doing little things for each other. Every father’s day he’d save up money from doing odd jobs around the trailer park to get Wayne a new mug. Wayne always picked up new patches for Eddie to sew on to his clothes or guitar strings anytime he had the extra cash. It was unspoken but they knew they loved one another like father and son.

When he got to high school, girls never looked his way and if they did they never wanted to keep him. Doing whatever they could for a deal on some bud and leaving. It became a routine for the metalhead, he’d get off, they’d get cheaper weed, and they’d go their separate ways. Eddie knew he was disposable and that was fine with him. Hell he was used to it by now, his parents didn’t want him, the girls at school and the hideout didn’t want him either, but he had Wayne and his friends. That's all he needed. Until he met you.

It was a shitty September day, the kind of shitty where it’s nothing but gray clouds and no hint of the sun. Leaves had started to die away, slowly falling one by one just to be picked up and whirled around by the wind. The chill of the air started to colder by the time Eddie had left work. If the weather wasn’t miserable enough, the customers he’d dealt with definitely were. One by one they crept into the shop, complaining about popped tires and arguing over wait times. Also, it didn't help that the garage was getting colder with the changing weather. No matter how many layers he wore, it never subdued the throbbing pains in his back and knees. Yeah he had a pretty shitty day but it wasn’t something a new book and a cold one would fix. When he approached the small bookstore on Main Street, he could feel the relief wash over him. Making his way over to the new release section, he picked up what he had been looking for.

He was busy reading the back cover of the book to notice you walking down the aisle. To be fair, you should have been paying more attention to where you were going, but the books in your hands had your attention, stopping you from seeing the cute man that you were close to coming in contact with. With a loud thud, your bodies collide causing you to drop the books you’d been holding. Eddie immediately bent down, picking up what had been dropped, too busy apologizing for being in the way to even see who he was speaking to. Then he heard your voice, so saccharine and smooth it knocked his breath from his chest. Finally moving his gaze to you, he was blinded by the light you had brought in. To this day he jokes about it, telling you how you’re the personification of the sun on a cloudy day. He’s sure he made a fool out of himself with the way he tripped over his words and blushed too hard any time you spoke. It didn’t matter though, because you’d giggle and he’d redden more and more. That day Eddie left the bookstore with his new book and your number clutched in his palm.

September 20th, 1987, that was your first date and that date would be seared into Eddie’s brain for the rest of his life. He called you earlier that week asking if you’d want to get coffee, and you were quick to agree. Never being on time for anything in life, Eddie made sure to arrive twenty minutes before you planned on meeting. To say he was nervous would be an overstatement, he was a god forsaken mess. Knees shaking with every passing second, palms sweating from pure anxiety. Ever the gentleman, he ordered you a coffee, something the barista had whipped up after he told them he didn’t know what you liked. Taking a seat near the window, he instantly regretted guessing your order. God what if she doesn’t like it? What even was it? Cinnamon, caramel, peanut? Oh Jesus, you were probably allergic to nuts. Good going Munson, you just killed your date, he thought to himself.

Before he could throw the drink away, the bell above the door chimed. When he looked up, he swore the gates of heaven opened up. The pretty white dress you wore swayed with the small breeze that followed behind you. You’d look heaven sent. When your eyes met his, you lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree, a big smile etched on your face to prove it. You were so pretty and it made his heart beat out of his chest. He’s sure he looked like a total goof, like a giant puppy excited to see their owner coming home. All the thoughts he had in his brain, the opening line he had thought up to say to you, had all been thrown out the window.

By the time you had made it to him, he had been standing up. Before you could reach for a hug or handshake, his arm shot out with the cup of coffee he had bought you, the same one he was about to throw away twenty seconds ago.

“I um, I got you a coffee.” His cheeks turned pink as he handed you the cup. Then all the thoughts of your possible nut allergy came back. “It’s cinnamon caramel peanut or something. If you don’t like it I can get you a new one.” You laughed and he didn’t care if it was at him or with him, because he would do anything to hear it again.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You smiled again. “It’s a cinnamon dolce latte, by the way.” He tilted his head in confusion, wondering how on earth you knew that. When you turned your cup to show the black sharpie, he dipped his head in pure embarrassment but then you giggled again and he didn’t feel as bad.

The two of you sat in the corner by the window for what felt like hours, talking about anything and everything. Eddie told you about his job at Frank’s garage, about his friends and uncle Wayne. The metalhead turned bashful when he mentioned his D&D group, but he was quickly relieved when you told him how cool you thought it was, always wanting to play yourself as a kid but your brother never wanted to teach you how. He told you about his sweetheart and his band, how he used to think he’d be a rockstar one day. With every little detail he told about himself, you looked at him with such adoration and it made his heart squeeze.

He sat and listened as you told your story about packing up your car and leaving your old life behind. You needed a new start you told him, one where you could truly be happy. Once you’d gotten here, you found a cozy little house on Biel Street. Apparently the man who sold it to you, is the nephew of the woman who runs the floral shop in town. Within a week you’d gotten the job. It was definitely a change up from your old life, switching out pencil skirts and kitten heels for your office job to jeans and sneakers for your new laid back one. City life was definitely different from the small town you’d chosen but it’s what you needed.

You’d recently ended a two year relationship with your shitty ex and even if it didn’t seem rational at the time, you quit your job and moved on. He didn’t push much on the topic of your ex and neither did you but you made sure to reassure him that you were over the whole situation. Eddie learned that you had a brother living in Chicago and your parents had long moved to Florida after they retired. The metal head made sure to make mental notes of every single thing you told him. How you won’t talk in the morning until you have a sip of coffee, how you like to annotate your books even if it’s frowned upon by others, and that you hope to get a cat one day.

He walked you to your car that night, even though it was twelve feet away from his own. The look in your eyes was the same way he felt, neither of you wanted to leave. Trying to drag out the minutes as long as you could, you leaned against your car door fiddling with the sleeves of your cream colored sweater.

“I had a really good time Eddie,” sincerity dripping from your words. You looked so stunning standing there, highlighted by the moon and glow of the street lights.

“I did too,” blush creeping up from his neck to his cheeks, “I hope I’m not being too forward, but would you like to go out again sometime?” He hoped you didn’t hear the nervousness in his words.

“Yeah,” you said sweetly, “I’d really like that.” You beamed up at him and he was a goner.

That night, you kissed him.

No drug could give him the same high the way your lips on his did. On the drive home, his cheeks ached from how much he grinned. When he got into bed that night, he stared up at the ceiling forcing his brain to play out the events over and over again.

“She kissed me.”

__

The heat coming from the Harrington’s fire pit wraps the backyard in a blanket of warmth, beating off the nipping bite of the mid October breeze. The sky above is clear of any clouds to hide the small twinkle of the stars, the moon hanging high above the backyard. The leaves fall from the trees in red, orange, and brown piles. You and Eddie had been seeing each other almost every other day since that first date. It had been a month to be exact, not like Eddie was counting the days or anything.

For the past couple of weeks, you had been the discussion of every conversation he had with his friends. They wanted to know when they’d get to meet you, if you guys were officially dating, what you were like. Honestly, he kicked himself the first time he brought you up because he knew there would be thousands of questions to follow. Eddie knew that it was because they cared for him, wanting to make sure that whoever he had been seeing had their seal of approval.

So when Steve mentioned having a bonfire last weekend, he knew it was a secret ploy to meet you. You talked about wanting to meet his friends, yet he was terrified at the idea of you meeting the gaggle of idiots. Dustin would probably bring up some embarrassing memories, like how he shot coke out of his nose at lunch that one time. It made his head spin with every embarrassing thing that he’s ever done in his life, all the things that would pop in his head at random times that made him full body cringe.

The minute he brought it up to you though, you jumped up and down excited that you’d finally get to meet them. He knew he couldn’t say no to you, especially when you had that look of giddiness. Eyes big with elation, infectious smile, clapping your hands together, kind of excitement. God, he could never say no to you.

Now you’re here and you can’t be any happier. Eddie stands across from you, separated by the dancing flames of the fire. He’s standing with a beer in his hand, the story that Robin and Steve are telling becomes background noise. He’s honed in on you, on the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. Max and El are talking to you about something he can’t hear, whatever it is you’re drinking it right up. Butterflies dance in his stomach at the sight of you. You’re enjoying the people that Eddie enjoys, and it fills him with so much pride. His favorite people are getting along, all in the same space. If his nine year old self could see this backyard right now, he’d be blown away. Everyone here cares for him, and he cares for them, something that he never thought he would have.

“It’s kind of creepy to stare ya know,” Steve’s voice cuts through Eddie’s internal monologue. The long haired man takes a swig of his beer trying to pretend like he didn’t just get caught like a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about man,” he mutters out. Avoiding any eye contact with the people in front of him, taking interest in the sight of his scuffed up reeboks.

“Oh man, Munson’s got it bad,” Robin butts in. Heat from embarrassment creeps up Eddie’s face. He hopes no one notices, ready to blame it on the warmth of the fire beside them.

“Guys stop it,” Nancy chimes in, “I think it’s sweet.” The brunette sends him a small smile. The metal head sends her one back in a small thank you.

“Never thought I’d see Eddie Munson have heart eyes over a girl,” Robin mumbles over her red solo cup. Dustin nods in agreement.

“Yeah it’s kind of gross, to be honest.”

“Shut it, Henderson,” Eddie hissed, “besides, there’s nothing wrong with having heart eyes for my girl.”

He looks over the group and he’s met with silence and wide eyed stares. Raising an eyebrow, he turns to see what’s caused everyone to suddenly shut the hell up. When he turns his body, he goes rigid with the sight of you. When did you get over here, you were just talking to the girls on the side of the fire. He wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. He just called you his girl and you weren’t even boyfriend/girlfriend yet, at least you never officially talked about it. He can’t read you and it’s scaring the ever living shit out of him.

After what feels like an eternity, he sees it. The way your eyes glitter, how you're biting on your lower lip fighting off the impending grin that’s due to break out on your face. Your arms wrap around his body, and you snuggle into him. His heart starts to beat again, this time it feels like it’s beating too fast.

It doesn’t take long for the group to move on to another conversation, slowly forgetting the awkward pause that just happened. Eddie’s mind races, scrambling to find the words to say. It doesn’t matter because you’re speaking before he can.

“I like that,” your voice is soft when you say it, yet he can still hear it. He glances down at you and you’re already craning your neck to meet his brown eyes.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” He’s surprised how cool he’s being for someone who just embarrassed himself in front of a whole group of people.

“Being your girl.”

__

After making it official, Eddie pondered the thought of you meeting Wayne. He knew it needed to happen, he just didn’t know how to go about it. This was all new to Eddie, he never had a girlfriend so he never had to worry about this kind of thing. So for the past week he practiced how to go about asking you, reassuring you it was okay to say no if you thought it was too much too soon. He had the perfect plan, he’d ask you when you were having movie night at your place, casually bring it up over dinner, and go from there. It was a good plan, but Eddie is an idiot and he can’t help but fumble when he’s around you. His palms were sweating and his knee bounced at an obnoxious rate, if you noticed you never mentioned it. He doesn’t even realize he said anything until your chewing stopped, going completely wide-eyed. The first thing he thinks of doing is running, bolting for your front door leaving you in the dust, but then you kiss him. All the anxiety leaves his body the minute it happens.

At first he thought it would be simple, invite his uncle over next weekend and order take out for the three of you. Then you scoffed, telling him you would die before you would have his uncle eating take out when you had a perfectly good stove. That whole week, you’d call him after work asking what his uncle liked and disliked, if he had any allergies or personal preferences. Out of the pair of you, you were more enthusiastic about the whole thing, and it made his worry subside. However, your enthusiasm slowly became overthinking every small detail.

Music blasted on your radio, loud enough he could hear from behind your front door. When you failed to answer the knocking after a minute or two, he let himself in. That’s when he found you standing on tiptoes, feather duster in hand, reaching for the picture frames on the mantle hanging above your tv. Your hair was pulled up into a bun, frizzy and damp from sweat. Your shirt sleeves were rolled up to your elbows and one of the legs of your sweatpants had been awkwardly pulled up higher on your calf than the other. Your usually clean apartment looked even more sterile now, walls looked brighter, and the air smelled even more clean than before. When you had called him earlier to ask if he was still staying the night, you mentioned that you had taken the day off to have a personal day. He thought maybe you’d relax or go shopping, he did not imagine you taking the day off to sit and clean every square inch of your house.

Leaning on the door frame, he took this time to quietly admire you. The way you sang the words of whatever Madonna song was playing, how your hips swing to the music, how you wipe your brow every once and a while when a sweat bead drips down. He can’t help but feel giddy when he watches you, heart growing bigger and bigger, like the grinch, with every second that passes. He wants to pinch himself sometimes because he is so lucky that he has you. You’re so fucking beautiful and you chose him, even though you could have anyone you wanted, you still chose him.

You jump almost ten feet in the air like some cartoon the minute you notice his presence. It makes him laugh and you clutch your heart trying to catch your breath.

“Babe, what the hell? You gave me a heart attack,” you walk over to your stereo, turning it down to an acceptable level. You set your duster down on your coffee table and make your way over to him. Rolling down your sleeves and trying to push down all the frizziness of your hair, he takes notice that you're shy, like he’s not supposed to see you like this.

“Sorry baby, I knocked but you had that god awful music playing,” there’s no real malice behind his statement. He makes his way over to you, making sure to take his shoes off first. He pulls you into a hug, relishing the way his face fits in your neck. “Hi baby,” his voice vibrates off of your skin. You're the first to pull away and he misses your warmth.

“As much as I want to hug you, I’m a disgusting mess,” you complain.

“Ex-cuuuse me, ma’am, but you are no such thing,” he gasps, placing a palm over his heart acting as if you wounded him. His little act pulls a snort from you and it makes him beam.

“What’s all this anyway,” he questions, “Don’t tell me you did all this work when you took the day off.”

You shrug your shoulders, trying your hardest not to look too bashful, “I wanted to clean for Sunday. Ya know, make a good first impression on your uncle.” His chest swells with pride at the thought of you doing all this just because you’re meeting his uncle.

“My sweet girl,” he coos, “You didn’t have to do all this. Your house is already spotless as it is.” Your face rests in his palms, your shoulders dropping with ease at the action.

“I just want it to be perfect,” you whisper and he melts. If he was being honest, he could cry over the whole thing. No one, especially a girl, has ever done something so thoughtful for him. The last time a girl has ever done anything relatively nice for him, was in sixth grade when Stacey Leannski gave him a pencil when he forgot his.

He grins, shaking his wild curls, “Babe, I can assure you that Wayne is going to love you, washed walls or not. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to curl up on that lovely couch of yours and watch Grease for the millionth time,” He jokes, you roll your eyes swatting at him. You agree, but only after you take a quick shower to rid yourself of the sweat and grime of the day. He accepts, telling you he’d order pizza while he waits.

Now showered and pizza devoured, the empty box sitting on your table to prove it, you two sit in the glow of the television in front of you. You’re sitting side by side, head resting on his shoulder, your attention on the movie. He feels overwhelmed by you, you're taking over all of his senses and he’s not sure how to handle it. The scent of whatever you used in the shower floods his nose, the heat of your body burning into his side, the softness of your bare legs on his, it’s all too much and he feels like he’s going to explode.

Eddie isn’t a virgin, far from it, so he knows what it’s like to burn with that desire, leaving your house after heavy makeout sessions, foot to the floorboard racing to get home to take care of the situation in his pants. Albeit not having sex yet, which he was one hundred percent fine with, he definitely felt aroused by you. Christ, you were the face of all his fantasies when he was in the comfort of his own home, hands down his pants, your name falling from his lips in quiet chants. This wasn’t that feeling at all, this was something completely different and it terrifies him.

He’s shaken from his train of thoughts when he notices the weight of your head on his shoulder is gone. He turns his attention to you, you’re all bright smiles watching Frankie Avalon serenade Frenchie. His eyes fall to your lips as you mouth the words, plump and pretty enough for him to kiss you. The illumination from the tv falls around in a halo like way, hair still damp from your shower, your shirt two sizes too big, you look ethereal like this. For a second the world goes quiet, time seems to pause, it feels like it’s just the two of you, and that’s all that matters to him at this very moment. That familiar ache returns, this time it’s stronger. The beat of his heart is erratic, the sound muffled in his ears like there's big clumps of cotton in them. His breath hitches, and his eyes bug out with realization. This isn’t an overwhelming feeling of arousal, oh no, that’s not what this is.

This feeling is you, picking and carving away at his heart, hollowing out a spot for yourself. This is you pouring yourself into his veins, circulating yourself through his bloodstream. This is you squeezing the air out of his lungs, sucking it right out of him for yourself. This feeling is you branding yourself on his soul, leaving your mark on him for the rest of his natural born life.

That night, he didn't get any sleep. He’s too busy with the feeling of your body pressed to him, the warmth of you seeping into his skin. Even with the heaviness of his eyes he can’t seem to shut off his mind, too busy thinking about how in love he is with you. He’s not sure when he’ll tell you this, but he hopes when he does, you feel the same way.

__

Eddie was going to jump into the nearest traffic if he had to spend one more second in the grocery store. The lights were starting to get too bright, the music a little too loud, and he swears it wasn’t as packed in the store when you got here - which was like an hour ago, but who’s counting. He wanted to say something, he really did, but when he gazes over at you he can’t bring himself to burst your bubble. Your bottom lip sits between your teeth while you hold two different cans of vegetables in your hand, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two labels. You looked so adorable standing there, it almost makes him forget about wasting his whole Sunday morning there. Almost.

“Baby,” he coos, “Just pick one, yeah? I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Ringed hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into him as he rests his head on top of your own. You sigh, pulling your body away from his, too soon for his liking.

“I know you said your uncle doesn’t like green beans but I’ve never made a stew with peas before. I mean I know you can use both, I just, I don’t know,” you ramble, pouting your bottom lip out and it takes everything in not to kiss you stupid.

“Wayne is a grown man, he can pick around them,” Eddie reassures you. He spots the look of hesitation on your face. Before you can argue your next point to him, he wraps his arms around your waist once again. “I promise you, he will love it no matter what. Now stop worrying that pretty little head of yours and let's get a show on the road, I have a hot date to get to,” He bops your nose and you blush. “There she is,” he says, “There’s my girl.”

“Okay but,” you put more emphasis on the last word, “If he hates it, I’m blaming you,” You playfully scowl at him. Placing the can into the cart, Eddie grins at you in victory, “That’s okay babe, I can handle the old man for ya.” You roll your eyes at him and he pretends like he doesn’t see the small crack of a smile growing on your face.

Eddie was right, like he knew he would be, Wayne loved your cooking and even better, he loved you. Wasn’t so shocking to be honest, you’re a wonderful person and everyone you meet instantly falls in love with you because of it.

The air of the night is a lot cooler than before, the sky much darker now that the sun had been replaced with the moon. The store bag filled with leftovers you packed for Wayne, rustled in the wind. The two men make their way to the truck, even though Wayne told his nephew multiple times he did not need to be walked out, the younger man ignored him and followed him out anyway. Not much is said between the two, Eddie overthinking what he would say to Wayne. Obviously he knew he needed to thank him, not only for coming, but for not embarrassing him.

“I just wanted to uh, thank you. Ya know, for coming over and stuff. Really ‘ppreciate it.” He fidgets with his rings. Eddie’s not sure why he’s so awkward saying a simple thank you, this was the man who raised him for heaven’s sake.

“ ‘re welcome kid,” Wayne gruffs out. Reaching for the handle on his truck, he places the bag of food on the bench inside. There’s another small pause as he reaches into the pocket of his old scuffed up carhartt jacket, pulling out his pack of reds.

“You love ‘er don’t cha?” He lights the cigarette that sits between his lips, taking a long drag and letting out a small cloud of smoke. The question makes Eddie’s eye’s bulge out of his head. He’s a blubbering mess, tripping over his own words not knowing what to say. His cheeks burn harder when his uncle chuckles.

“I taught ya well son,” Wayne slapped his hand on his shoulder, “treat her right, ya hear? She’s too good of a girl, don’t wanna see you breakin’ her heart.” Eddie nodded dumbly to Wayne's words.

While Eddie makes his way back into your home, he mulls over what the hell just happened, he just got the shovel talk from his own uncle. When he opens the door, he’s met with the sight of you. You’re standing at the sink, that adorable little dress you wear moving with you has you sway back and forth, humming a tune. His uncle's words ring out in his head. There was no way he would ever break your heart, he knows he never could.

__

The colder weather of winter makes its way across Hawkins, leaving trails of snow in its path. As cold seeps into your home, so does Eddie’s things. His shampoo bottles, deodorant, some of his clothes residing in the space in your drawers and closet that you’d left for him. He hadn’t officially moved in, it just seemed easier if he left some clothes over when he’d stay the night.

Your limbs tangle beneath the fortress of blankets that lay on top of you. Hushed voices and quiet laughter fill the room, like two small children sharing secrets at a sleepover. Eddie savors the feeling of your fingertips tracing lines onto his skin.

“Did I ever tell you the full story of why I moved?” You keep your attention to the tattoo that sits on his chest. He answers with a shake of his head, muttering no. Eddie knew the story you told him was a half assed attempt at pushing the subject away and he was never going to push you for the real reason, knowing one day you would do it when you were comfortable enough.

You take a deep breath, readying yourself for what is to come. “Well, as you know I have an older brother. My parents, they were really big with supporting him, ya know? Like they were always going to his baseball games, pouring all the attention on him.” You force yourself not to meet Eddie’s gaze, opting to trace random things on his exposed chest.

“He’s the golden child, the apple of their eyes, and then there’s me. I wasn’t anything special, just kinda there. Anyway, they were never really worried about me because as they said, I always had the option of marrying rich,” a dry laugh escapes your throat, “While my brother, he had something going for him. He was a star baseball player, and they knew he’d make it big. But then he got injured and couldn’t play anymore.”

“When my brother decided to work for an engineering company in Chicago, my parents felt like there was nothing left for them to do, so they retired and packed their shit. They just left me there, and it hurt for a while, I mean I was out of school by that point but still. The idea of them not wanting to stay for me, that shit fucked with me.”

Before he knows it, the light blue pillow case that sits under your head is now stained dark blue with your tears. Eddie’s seen you cry before, just last week you cried while watching The Breakfast Club, but this was not the same thing. Fat, heavy tear drops, rolling down your face, snot leaking from your nose, kind of crying. The sight itself makes his own chest constrict and all he wants to do is wrap you up in the biggest hug.

“I ended up getting a really good job at this company in the city. I was so proud of myself too, I was making a lot of money, and I had my own place. I ended up meeting Paul, my ex, at the bar one night. He was charming, handsome, and dressed well, so I thought he was safe. It was good for a while, really it was but looking back it was so bad, Eds. Like you wouldn’t believe the shit I put up with, but yeah I found out he was using some of the money I had hidden to buy his girlfriend gifts. That was only part of it but that was the straw that broke the camel's back, I guess. Anyway, I found out when I found him fucking her in his bed and the next day, I packed my shit and left. God, I guess you do end up like your parents after all, huh?”

When your eyes meet, the flood you had been holding back finally breaks. Without a second thought, he’s holding onto you as you sob into his neck. You never told him the full story on Paul, but what you did tell him, he wanted to find the guy and beat the piss out of him. The idea of someone, let alone your own parents treating you the way they did breaks his heart. He wishes he could take the pain away from you, he’d carry the weight of it on his own back if he had to.

Eddie’s not sure what to say or if you even want him to say anything, so he doesn’t. His hand pets the top of your head, soothing you, like a mother does to her baby. A flashback pops into his own head, him as a child in his bed, crying because his parents fought again. The memory of his mom coming in and rocking him, the way he’s doing now, easing his tears with a slow song. So he does the same for you.

Slowly, the vice grip you had on him eases up, and your sobs reduce to small hiccups. He doesn’t stop until he hears your breath even out. When he’s sure you're sleeping, he takes a second to appreciate you, for bearing your soul to him, removing the barriers that blocked him out. He vows to himself that night, that he will protect you from anything and everything for as long as you both live.

__

The glow of the Christmas tree lights reflect off of the living room window. Outside, small flurries rain down, coating the ground in layers of white. The scent of hot chocolate and cinnamon fill the small living room. It looked like an elf had thrown up everything jolly in your home, littering every square inch in something holiday themed.

Eddie wasn’t a big holiday kind of guy, never really having a reason to go all out for them when it was just him and Wayne. He thought you were going to have an aneurysm when he told you, with the way your face twisted up. You were quick to tell him that you’d be more than happy to have him over to celebrate, have his uncle join in the morning, and then meet up at Steve’s to have dinner with the group. Eddie wasn’t too thrilled on the idea, not because he didn’t want to spend it with you, but because he knew he wouldn’t be able to afford a bunch of gifts. Albeit you reassured him that you didn’t want anything, he couldn’t help but feel like you were lying to make him feel better. It wasn’t until he realized that you were not doing this just for him but you were doing it for both of the lost childhood you had, he agreed.

The two of you sit across from each other by the tree. Small boxes and bags hid underneath the fake branches, sitting pretty in the light of the colorful bulbs that hang. The uneasy feeling settles in his stomach when he looks at them. The amount of gifts that sit with your name doesn’t hold a candle to all the things that sit underneath for him. It was decided that you’d pick gifts out for each other and open them at the same time. Doubt fills his brain, but it’s quickly shut off when he sees you with the box he placed in your hands. You shake the small box back and forth, tongue poking out in concentration trying to figure out what could be underneath the paper.

Over the next few minutes boxes and bags are passed back and forth, paper ripped to shreds, and piled of gifts surround the both of you.

Beside you sit your pile of opened presents. The Cure’s ‘Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me’ album, a pack of colorful fuzzy socks, your favorite candy, a new mug with a black cat painted on it, Fannie Flags novel ‘Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe’, along with highlighters and new pens for annotating.

Eddie’s pile isn’t as neat as yours, all haphazardly thrown next to him with care. A pack of new socks because he never seems to have one's without holes, a pair of new work boots, a new Metallica band shirt, a sketchbook and pencils for his D&D doodles, a bottle of Calvin Klein’s ‘Obsession for Men’, Anthrax ‘Among the Living’ album, and a pack of guitar picks.

“These are perfect, thank you baby.” A dimpled smile appears on Eddie’s cheeks. Leaning over to reach you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You’re welcome. I love everything you got me. I promise not to finish my book too fast.” You joke. There’s a sense of pride written on your face. He’s not sure why he was so nervous for this, when he’d get to see you like this, truly like a kid on Christmas morning.

He can’t relish in the feeling too long, when he sees you grabbing a hidden present from under the tree. You hand him the small box, the red ribbon mocking him from where it sits in his hands.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me anything else, I thought we said-” before he can finish, you tut his response away, waving your hands for him to stop. “Shush, it’s nothing big I promise. Now open it.” He can’t refuse when you look at him like that, cheshire grin shining brightly at him.

He pulls the ribbon off, letting it slowly fall to the floor. Opening the box, he’s met with a golden shine. A key sitting in a bed of tissue paper, confusion is written on his face when he pulls it from its place, the box falling to the floor with a small thump. When he looks up at you, the once confident look you had is now replaced with a meek expression.

“I just thought, ya know since you’re here all the time it’d make sense for you to have your own. I just want you to have it in case I’m not here or something.” Your statement trails off. Before you know it, he’s tackling you in a hug. Wet sloppy kisses are placed on your face and you swat at him, giggling telling him to stop.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever given me, you know that?” He’s hovering over you. You beam up at him, wrapping your finger around one of his curls.

“You say that, but you still haven’t gotten your last gift.” You tease and he sits up, letting you up from your position on the floor.

Standing up, you hold your hand out to him. As you pull him along to your room, his heart is in his throat. He burns with embarrassment, feeling like an asshole because you’ve gone above and beyond for him and he has nothing for you in return. When you make it to your room, you gently push him on the edge of your bed, making him sit down. You nudge your way in between his legs, craning your neck down to meet his eyes. Before he knows it, the giant sleep shirt you were wearing is now on the floor, leaving you in the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

You stand there, red lace hugging your body, every curve he’s dreamed of seeing, are now in arms reach. He’s sure he looks like an idiot, drool falling from his mouth, Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. You were such a sight to see, standing there, shy as can be, looking like a wet dream.

“You can touch me, Eds.” It takes him a minute to realize what you just said to him. He slowly lets his hand reach out from you, tracing the intricate detailing the lingerie that sits on your body.

Standing to full height, he kisses you, so soft and slow. When you reach your hand down to brush over the front of his groin, it picks up a notch. Gnashing teeth and tongue, he feels like a feral animal and if he doesn’t do something soon, he’s going to bust in his pants like a teenager. He takes his time laying you down on the bed, too scared that you might break if he goes any faster. The clothes he wears are starting to become too suffocating, constricting his every movement. His clothes are off in a flash, sitting next to yours on the hardwood floor.

Eddie thinks he’s lost his goddamn mind, he must be having a realistic wet dream or something, because there is no way on earth this is happening. He’s waited for this moment for the past two months, imagining every single detail, but nothing would prepare him for the real thing. He’s hovering above, looking down at his perfect girl, wrapped in the prettiest dainty ribbon of sorts. Eyes going crazy trying to get every single detail memorized, scars, birthmarks, dimples - he wants to learn it by heart.

“ You‘re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” He doesn’t just say it because you’re half naked underneath him. He says it because you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. No playboy model, no random hook up, no groupie could hold a candle to the beauty you have.

“You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen,” You look up at him through your lashes, puffy red lips stretched into that Colgate smile he loves so much.

He wants to hold those words with him for the rest of his life, lock them away for safekeeping. You have no idea what you do to him, how much you mean to him. You’ve dug your way into his life, flipping it completely upside down, and unlocking a side to him he never knew he had.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, sweetheart.” It’s out there, piercing the air like bullets from a starting pistol. Eddie’s the most vulnerable he’s ever been, giving you his heart on a silver platter. You’ve got him in the palm of your hand, able to crush his soul at any moment.

Reaching your hand up, you cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his cheek. He’s bracing himself for rejection, ready to tuck tail and run, but it never comes.

“Good, because I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson.” His eyes search your face, waiting to hear you tell him it was all a joke. He doesn’t, instead he sees you, just as vulnerable as him. Just two scared people of being hurt, letting their guard down, opening up themselves in the most raw way.

“You’ll still love me in the morning?”

“Always.”

For the first time in his life, he makes love - hands cradled together, foreheads touching, sweet nothings being shared. He doesn’t even notice when he starts crying, not until you wipe away the tears staining his cheek. He would be embarrassed but this is you, the girl who’s stolen his heart and invaded his whole life. When it’s over, you hold him, whispering sweet praises to the metal head.

When the morning light peaks through your curtains, you’re still there, holding onto him like you did when you fell asleep. You didn’t leave, didn’t regret the words that were shared between the two of you. Your promise rings in his head - always.

__

The bitter cold of March couldn’t beat the icy atmosphere in the car. No matter how many times Eddie called your name you refused to answer, turning your body more and more towards the window. Eddie knew something happened, he just didn’t know what. The night started off fine, meeting with friends to get food and drinks, big laughs and stories passed back and forth at the table. At some point something happened and you weren’t laughing anymore. Your big smile and bright eyes are replaced with a look he’s never seen before. He tried to get you to talk, begging you to just say something, only to be met with a scoff and crossed arms.

Pulling up to your house, you didn’t even wait for him to shut off the car to exit the car, slamming the door hard enough to make Eddie flinch in his seat. He wanted to puke, he hated this, he hated that he didn’t know what was making you so angry and he hated that he didn’t know how to fix it. Releasing a big puff of air, he follows you inside where he’s met with more slamming doors.

He doesn’t want to bombard you, so he decides to wait in the kitchen, where he starts to pace back and forth. He feels like he’s eight years old again after the first time he’d ever gotten in trouble at school, sitting outside the principal’s office in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, watching the clock go by as he waits to be called back. Although he’d get used to the feeling over time, he would never forget that first time, the way it felt when his stomach knotted up, shaky hands and trembling legs.

He hears the familiar click of the bathroom door open and he freezes, your figure ascends down the hallway, shuffling your feet along the wooden floors. Your hair you spent hours on styling to perfection is now thrown into a bun, your mascara now leaving black streaks on your face from crying, the outfit you took forever to pick out is now replaced with a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt.

Eddie watches as you reach for a glass from your cabinet, filling it with water from your faucet. At that moment he thinks it’s better if he keeps distance by staying in his corner of the kitchen, not wanting to approach you and scare you off. Screaming and yelling, that’s what he’s used to, standing in the middle of the battle front, dodging bullets left and right. Hurtful words being spat, so sharp and full of toxins, ready to leave scars after all the dust settles.

Silence, that was the real killer. It was the calm before the storm, the thickness in the air that made it harder and harder to breathe. It’d sneak up behind you, wrapping its hands around your throat, and slowly squeezing the oxygen out of your lungs. It was the uneasy feeling you get right before you head into the woods at night. It was able to sweep the rug out from under you, pulling you further and further into the darkness to no point of return.

He wants to say the right thing to you, he wants to mend the damage that’s been done, wrap you up in bandages and make it all better. He wants to pull you into shelter from the storm going on inside your brain, to hold on to you for dear life so that you don’t get sucked up in the twister of your thoughts. It’s written all over your face, the hurt, the anger, it’s all there for him to read - like a clue being left behind for him to find. There’s a war starting up inside of you, he can see the smoke signals from here, calling out for help. He wants to break in and stop it from happening, but he can’t - the brick wall that he worked endlessly at to break, is now back up again. This time it’s harder to tear down.

Although he’s never been the first in the firing line, Eddie’s armed and ready for the first hit. It feels like one of those western movies his uncle Wayne used to watch - two cowboys, guns drawn, ready to fire any second. The biggest showdown known to man is happening right here, in the small yellow kitchen of your home. There would be no shoot out this time, no knife-like words to leave damage, no wounds to heal. This time, you’re the first to put your gun down, wave your white flag in surrender.

You don’t tell him you hate him, you don’t tell him to get out and to never come back, you simply hug him. It throws him for a loop, the ticking time bomb that stood before him, defusing itself right before his very eyes. The rain that clouded over him is now washed out by the chirps of the birds, sun pushing its way to be seen once again. There is no fight to be won anymore, there is no mass destruction left in the wake of battle, left to be cleaned for another day.

He can feel the shaking of your body, vibrating with the cries you muffle in his shirt. The situation might be over, but you are still wounded from before, begging for some kind of mercy.

“Baby, you gotta tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how to fix it.” He can smell the hair spray that sits on your hair, from where his nose rests. His big hand soothing you, rubbing over the cotton shirt that drapes your back. He means the words he says to you, he wants you to let him in again.

Your answer is hard to understand, obscured by the fabric of his shirt where you’ve shoved your face to hide.

“Sweetheart, you gotta speak up so I can hear you,” He coos at you. His sweet tone coaxes you out from your hiding spot. Pulling your face from the comfort of his chest, you peer up at him.

“Please don’t leave me.” It sounds so dejecting when it falls from your lips, like you're begging him with everything in you. It breaks his heart to see you like this.

There’s some parts of your brain that Eddie hasn’t explored yet. The darkest corners of your mind, so dark you’d need a flashlight, decorated in dust and cobwebs. All the secrets you’ve yet to reveal to him, filed away, locked behind a door - the key thrown somewhere for him to find. Eddie knows there’s parts of you that you don’t want him to see, too scared he’d criticize you the way people before him did. That was the thing though, he never would, no matter how scary or fucked up you thought you were.

“Honey, I’m not going to leave you, okay? S’just - I need you to tell me what’s going on, tell me what happened.” He’s pleading with you, trying to pull it out of you. Whether it gets him any further or not, it doesn’t matter, he just wants you to see he’s trying, trying for you.

“Will you still love me in the morning?” You’re retreating, going back behind that big brick wall. As much as Eddie wants to scream and shout for you to stop hiding, he knows that the storm within is at bay, at least for now. So he lets you retreat, lets you rest knowing he’ll be back hammering, no matter how long it takes.

“Always,” It’s hushed, quiet like the small flurries that fall outside of the window. Plump lips meeting the top of your head. Eddie knows he’s not getting any more out of you, both too winded and tired from the events tonight.

Cracks and fractures left behind from the people before him, it’s going to take time, he reminds himself. So many times you had told him it was best if he runs away, there’s too much damage and he deserves someone better. He thinks you’re wrong, you are someone better, you just can’t see it. You don’t see what he sees, the girl he fell in love with, he wishes you could because you’re the best thing that’s ever graced this fucked up planet. He’d plant you in front of the world’s biggest mirror if he had to, but he knows that you’d still only see half of what he does. So for now, he’ll keep reminding you until he’s blue in the face. Always.

[bimbobaggins69]

Don’t be sorry

Ex!Eddie Munson x fem!reader x Eddie’s one night stand (Stacy)

summary: after your boyfriend comes clean about cheating on you, he’ll do anything to get you back. You have other plans in mind; which include meeting up with the other woman and getting her side, but that’s not all you gain.

⚠️warnings: SLIGHT SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, ANGST, pictures are for aesthetic purposes only, cheating, manipulation, controlling behavior, jealous eddie, girl on girl sex, making out, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), reader basically figuring out her sexuality and we love that for her.

A/N: this was purely self indulgent, and extremely cathartic to write <3 also, I never headcanon Eddie as a cheater. I def don’t think he would, but I’ve read a lot of cheating fics and I just thought this would be a cool concept, even if it hurt to write.

Eddie Munson broke your heart, and you weren’t sure if you’d every truly get over it.

Two weeks ago, eddie had called you over to his place to talk, said he had something important he had to tell you. Of course you think nothing of it, as you make your way to forest hills. Maybe, eddie had some news or needed help with something. But, nothing could prepare you for the devastation you were about to face.

“Hey” he said with a pained expression as he opened the door to his trailer, eyes blood shot but not from smoking, this was something different. You noticed how puffy they were, like he’d been crying

“Eddie, baby what happened?” You ask full of concern. That killed him even more.

“Y/n, can you just sit down, please?” He says, tone almost as low as a whisper, as he looks down at his socked feet.

“Uh. Okay sure, but can you tell me what’s going on, you’re starting to scare me” you say, eyes full of worry as you watch Eddie begin pacing in front of you.

“Listen, baby I love you! You know I love you, so much, right?” He says, as his pacing stops and he drops to his knees on the floor in front of you, taking your hands in his.

All you can do is offer a nod, your heart begins to sink. But, no Eddie would never, could never do anything to hurt me, at least that’s what you continue to tell yourself as Eddies eyes begin to water. A single tear sliding down his left cheek

“Baby, I’m so sorry”—“I-I fuck! You know I’d never intentionally hurt you, I would never.”

Your face remains stoic, as he cries into your lap.

“Eddie, just say what you gotta say!” you snap, tired of the theatrics

“L-last week when we played at that new bar the pit, I-I uh I slept with someone else”—“y/n I’m so sorry! I swear it was a mistake a-and I’ll do anything, anything for your forgiveness so we can go back to the way things were, before. It could be like it never even happened, baby. I swear!”

That same day, you heard him in the woods selling to some cheerleader. He was all smiles and sweethearts, flirting and really working up that charm. You confronted him about it and he called you crazy “I would never cheat on you, princess. Come on, you should have more faith in me then that” those were his specific words that day, but you know what you heard. So, you refused to go to his show that night. Not even taking his calls the next day as he blew your phone up, now looking back was most likely out of guilt. God you felt like a complete idiot, but you were kind of having an “I knew it” moment, like you felt it in your heart and gut that something wasn’t right, and now you have the conformation but knowing didn’t make you feel any better.

You couldn’t help but laugh. The whole thing made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn’t contain it.

“Why are you laughing?” Eddie says, as he lifts his head out of your lap and wipes away his tears.

“God, I’m a fucking idiot” you say through your laughter. “I knew it, I knew you were flirting with that cheerleader and you told me I was crazy, and then you promised me you wouldn’t ever cheat on me. Wow Eddie, so congratulations you really are a piece of shit.” You say as you push him off of you and stand up, pulling down the skirt that had been bunched up around your upper thighs

“Baby, please just, please don’t leave. I promise, I will never ever do anything like that again, I swear!” He cries out “just please don’t leave me, y/n.”

You snort out another laugh.

the nerve of this guy!— You think to yourself.

“Eddie, get the fuck off the floor, Jesus!”

“C-can you answer a couple questions? you owe that to me.” you say, as eddie stands from his kneeling position to sit on the couch.

“Sure, go ahead” he says as monotone as ever. You can tell, his attitude has completely changed knowing his manipulation tactics were not gonna work on you.

“Were you flirting with Linda?” You ask as your eyebrows raise

“I-I mean not intentionally, baby. But you know me.” he says, as you notice a quick smirk flash on his lips, before it was gone.

“Stop calling me baby! And it’s a yes or no Eddie, quit with your bullshit” you say, happy at how stern your voice came out regardless of how much you were hurting inside.

“Yes, yes I was flirting, but I wasn’t trying to hook up with her or anything. I was just in a friendly mood.” he scoffs, as if you should understand his logic.

“Who did you fuck?” You ask as your second question

“You wanna know her name?” He says as he raises his eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest

“Yes Eddie, who is she? And how did it happen? All the details, don’t leave anything out.”

His eyes widen at your request

“I can’t do that. I don’t want to hurt you, more”

“Eddie, you’ve already hurt me. You putting your dick in someone else is already hurting me, I need to know, please?” Your voice losing its confidence as your lip wobbles

“Her name is Stacy, she’s one of the bartenders”-

“She uh, offered me a free drink. Said my guitar skills were good and I don’t know, we ended up fucking in the bathroom. It was the biggest mistake Ive ever made! it was fucking awful and I wish I could take it back.” he looks up at you with pleading eyes

“Mm, well maybe the next one will be better” you say, tone laced in sarcasm.

“There won’t be a next time baby, I swear.” he stands up, taking a step toward you as you begin backing away with your hands up, as if to silently tell him not to touch you.

“You’re so fucking right, there won’t be a next time!” You shout, as you turn around and walk out the door.

You make it to your car and jump in, so focused on getting the hell out of there, you don’t even know if he followed you out or not. It doesn’t matter though, you could never take him back after this.

It was a Friday night when you decided to go check out the pit. It was a little outside of Hawkins, closer to the city. You knew Eddie would be busy with hellfire, so there would be no chance you’d run into him. This wasn’t really his scene, unless he was there to play with his band, anyway.

As you walk into the smoke filled bar, red lights illuminating the patrons faces. You felt under dressed in your: black jeans, tank top and sneakers. While everyone else was dressed in leather or lace. You head to the bar to sit and grab a drink, while you wait to talk to this Stacy chick. You weren’t mad at her, it wasn’t her fault your boyfriend ‘ex boyfriend’ couldn’t keep it in his pants. If it wasn’t her it would’ve been someone else, as much as that thought kills you, it’s true. Eddie feeds off of attention, always has. So as much as you want to be surprised at his indiscretion, a part of you feels like you’ve just been waiting for that shoe to drop.

As you look around the bar, you start to feel like maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should just leave it alone, go home and try to find things that’ll take up your time, until you are fully over this heartbreak. As you begin to get up, the bartender comes over and asks if you would like a drink. Your head snaps to her, taking in her face; She was really pretty, brown hair fluffed out to perfection. She looked like one those girls from a heavy metal music video. Leopard print long sleeve adorning her body, cleavage peaking out of the deep v neck. You catch yourself staring and so does she, giving you a smirk that could make you melt. As you continued taking her in, her name tag catches your attention “Stacy” you read to yourself, making your stomach drop to your toes. Seeing her in person was so different than seeing her as the faceless girl in so many of your intrusive thoughts. She was beautiful and captivating. He said it was terrible and didn’t mean anything but looking at her, you know that’s nothing but lies. There was definitely attraction there and somehow that hurts a little bit more.

“I’ll have a beer, please.” you throw her a fake smile, not wanting to let your bitterness be known

“Sure hun, one beer coming up,” she smiles back

“I’ve never seen you around here before. What brings you in?” Tone sweet and curious, it made your breath hitch and your heart speed up.

“Oh, um nothing really, just came to people watch and grab a drink.” you say as you pick up your beer and take a sip

“Well, I’d like to see more of you.” she says with a wink before she turns around to tend to another bar goer.

Your stomach does back flips. You’ve always known you found women attractive, beyond an “Omg she’s so pretty” way, but you’ve never actually been with a girl before, and the new territory makes you a bit, apprehensive.

Am I really thinking about, fucking the girl my ex cheated on me with? What the fuck? Am I in the twilight zone?

You sat there as you watched Stacy make drinks and laugh with other patrons. She was so effortlessly cool. Apart of you held jealousy, but another part of you was enamored by her. You wanted to get to know everything about her. Touch her soft skin, her tits. You snap out of your pervy thoughts as she comes back around to you, leaning against the table top.

“What’s your name?” She questions with a smirk

“Uh, my name?” You stutter out. Men don’t even make you this nervous, what the fuck?

“Yes babe, your name?” She laughs out as your face turns a deep red

“My names y/n” you were internally thanking whatever god there is, that you were able to get that out without another stutter

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Your cheeks bloom a rosy pink, as she looks down at your breasts, nipples peaking through your white tank top.

Before you can stop the word vomit, you spit out;

“Can I actually talk to you about something, maybe when you get off of your shift?” Body closing in on itself at the brazen question.

“Uh, sure yeah I get off in about thirty minutes” she says, as she looks over your face while biting her lip. It’s clear she thinks you’re asking for a different reason.

After your second beer, you see Stacy grab her bag from underneath the bar. Making her way towards you, “let’s go out back?” She says but it’s more of a question. You nod your head and follow her towards the exit, down the dark hallway.

Walking out of the big red door, into the humid night air. Stacy leans up against the black stucco wall and lights a cigarette.

“You want one?” She asks as she blows out a puff of smoke

“Yeah, I’ll take one.” you don’t smoke much but you could use one, to calm your jangled nerves.

Stacy takes another one out of the pack and puts it between your lips, while bringing the hot pink lighter up. The flame illuminating her face while the tip of the cigarette begins to bellow out smoke into the night air. You both stair into each others eyes, cigarette already lit but quickly forgotten about. You take a step back, pulling the cigarette from your mouth, as you cough.

“Sorry.” she says with a sympathetic smile

“It’s okay.” you look off to the side, with pink tinged cheeks.

“So, what’d you want to talk about? Or, was that a ploy to get me all alone?” Stacy says with a flirty smirk

“Well, as much as I wish it was. I actually have a question.” you laugh out, as you put the cigarette back up to your lips.

“Ask away babe,”

“Um, it’s honestly really dumb. But my ex played a show here a couple weeks ago and apparently you and him hooked up in the bathroom.” your heart is hammering out of your chest. Not sure if it’s the confrontation, or the fact that you might hear some things you’re better off, not knowing.

“Oh shit, um. Guitar dude with the hair and dio back patch?” She squints her eyes in remembrance

You bite your lip as you nod your head

this is so stupid and embarrassing, why did you even come here?

“Yeah, we did hook up. Um, but you said your ex? You guys weren’t together, right?” Her whole energy radiated sweetness, you could tell she was genuine. You couldn’t dislike her, even if you tried.

“No, w-we were together. I broke up with him after he told me.” you say as you stub out the cigarette, against the wall.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry! I’m not that kind of girl. If I knew he was spoken for, I would’ve never touched him.”

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t come here to be a bitch or anything, I don’t really know why I came here. I thought maybe for closure, but I think I’d rather not know the details, and you seem really sweet and your beautiful so, I don’t blame him-”

“Hey, don’t do that! You’re beautiful too, it’s his loss. But I am really sorry, I know how much that shit hurts, and this might be weird but I mean, I wouldn’t mind hanging out, ya’know to help get your mind off of him.” she says, taking one last drag of her cigarette.

“I mean yeah, th-that would be cool. I would actually really like that, thank you!” you can’t hold back the beaming smile that takes over your face, maybe this is weird, hanging out with the girl your ex cheated on you with, but you know there’s something special about her, you can feel it in the depths of your stomach. She’s someone you’re meant to know. You’ve never been so drawn to a stranger before, its bewitching.

“Here, let me write down my number. You can call me anytime, okay?” She says as she fishes a red lipliner pencil and receipt out of her black leather bag and jots down the seven digit number.

“Thank you, it was nice meeting you, Stacy.”

“It was nice meeting you too, y/n. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” She says as she rubs her hand against your arm and begins walking away.

Your body must’ve been in shock, because it doesn’t move, even after Stacy has gotten into her brown station wagon and drove off. You definitely did not expect that outcome, but for the first time all day, you’re not thinking about Eddie. You’re thinking about Stacy, and all that may blossom between you two.

After about three days of waiting and not wanting to be too eager. You decide to call the new girl, that has taken over your every thought, since you met her. Eddie no longer at the forefront. Speaking of Eddie, he has blown up your landline, nonstop. Dropped by your house every single day, and has even left red roses and a note on your front porch. The note said everything you were expecting;

‘I’m so sorry, please take me back. It’ll never happen again, blah blah blah.’

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, at the lack of genuine accountability.

After you hang up with Stacy and agree to a movie night at her apartment, your phone rings—you’re so excited to hang with her, that you forgot you were in the business of ignoring a certain someone.

“Hello” you answer enthusiastically

“Y/n?” Eddie says as he sniffles on the other end

“Eddie, what do you want?”

“I just need to hear you voice, please just talk to me. I know I fucked up, trust me I know. But, I want to make it up to you. I really am sorry, y/n.” the crack in his voice tugs at your heart strings, the empath in you wants to forgive and move on. Take him back and pray he never hurts you like this again, but a bigger part of you is telling you that there will be another time, and you just can’t handle that pain, again. You love Eddie and probably always will, but you need to put yourself first, not his feelings. Yours.

“I’m sorry Eddie, but I have nothing to say to you” You slam the phone back down on the receiver, as your heart breaks for a second time.

You and Stacy are knee deep in; cheesy horror movies, deep conversation and flirty exchanges. You’ve never felt so infatuated and intrigued by someone, at least not to this level.

You want to know everything about her, her deepest darkest secrets. The things that scare her, or make her the happiest. You both haven’t even spoken a word of Eddie’s name, the whole night. As if, he doesn’t even exist. As if, his betrayal isn’t what brought you both together, in the first place.

“So, hey. Random question, but do you want to come to the pit this Saturday? Maybe after we can, I don’t know hang out, maybe like a date?” Stacy says, her face so full of hope. You wanted to press your lips against hers, right then and there.

“Um, Saturday? Doesn’t Eddie play on Saturday?” You ask.

Well, you almost went all night without saying his name.

“Who cares? The best way to get someone back, is by showing you’ve moved on. You don’t care about them anymore, even if it’s bullshit! You’ll be there with me, anyway. He can suck it!” She laughs out

You couldn’t help but giggle, cheeks heating up at the- ‘you’ll be there with me, anyway.’

“Yeah, okay that could be fun!” You agree, trying to stay calm to the fact that she asked you to go on a date.

“So a date? Hmm, does that mean you like me?”You say in a teasing but flirty tone, as you get up on your knees and face her, on her velvety mustard couch.

“Well, duh babe! I thought that was obvious.” She teased back

“Yeah, it was. I just had to be sure, before I did this.” You begin to lean into her space, as she closes the gap and presses her lips to yours.

A couple chaste pecks, turn into full on tongue and teeth, making out. It was so different from kissing a guy, so delicate and sensual. She tasted so sweet, you couldn’t get enough. You never wanted to stop.

You move to straddle her waist, the kiss deepening as she moans into your mouth, moving her hands to your ass, rubbing it through the rough fabric of your jean shorts.

Next thing you know; you’re taking each others shirts and bras off, shorts and panties following, after. You both move from the couch to Stacy’s, big comfortable bed. Continuing the kisses and sucks of each others necks and breasts, this was everything you were ever looking for when it came to sex. Sex with Eddie wasn’t bad, he was really good at it, but he wasn’t as good at foreplay like she was, you suppose it’s because you both know what women like, as far as how much pressure and where exactly on the clit feels best. But, if you were being honest after this you could never see yourself going back to being with a man.

Stacy, began moving over your body. Kissing you all the way down to your thighs, licking and sucking sensitive areas, you didn’t even know you had. She grabs the backs of your knees, spreading you out wide for her as she begins kissing your inner thighs and the crease between your thigh and pussy. Finally, after her teasing she begins eating your pussy, like it’s her last supper. She’s fucking incredible at it, too.

Your hands in her hair, as your toes curl and your back arches. Euphoria was beginning to take over your body, as you inched closer and closer to your climax.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum!” You yell out, as Stacy inserts two fingers, finding your g-spot instantly and working it as she lapped at your clit. Making the euphoric wave crash over your entire body, your legs were shaking as you cried out into the candle lit, dimness of her bedroom.

After you came down, Stacy made her way back up to kiss you, sucking on your bottom lip, as you savored the taste of yourself on her lips.

Finally, once your breathing became normal, and your body was now longer shaking. You push her down, as you do your best to repeat everything that was just done to you.

“I’ve never done this before, so just let me know if I do something you don’t like, okay?” You say shyly, with your head between her beautiful plush thighs.

“It’s alright, baby. I’ll talk you through it, okay? Don’t be nervous.” She whispers

You start by doing what you usually enjoy, which seemed to be working with the moans of your name and profanities she was shouting.

Finally, once you knew she was close you do exactly what she did; inserting two fingers as you search around for her spot, she cries out once you’ve found it.

“Mm, there she is.” You laugh out, almost cringing at the words that leave your mouth. Something that Eddie has said to you multiple times, while doing the same exact thing.

You shake your head of the memories. No, you don’t wanna think about him, while you’re with her. She’s far too special.

Once you make her cum, and she’s coming down the same exact way you were, not even 20 minutes ago. You plop right next to her, she turns to you with a smug smirk on her face.

“You sure this was your first time, eating pussy?” She huffs out, in an accusatory tone.

“No, I swear that was my first ti-” you begin, as she cuts you off

“I’m kidding! But holy shit, you’re really good” she says as she scoots her naked body closer to yours, both your breasts touching as she cups your cheek and begins kissing you. When she tastes herself on your lips she moans out, the sound going straight to your pussy. Fuck, you could do this all night long if she’d let you.

After your night with Stacy, you’ve talked to her every single day, and hung out a couple more times.

Today’s Saturday, the day she wants you to go down to the pit. The day Eddie and his band corroded coffin play, and our body is full of jitters and nerves, to say the least.

Apart of you wants to call her and tell her, you can’t make it. You haven’t seen eddie since you left his trailer after his confession and you don’t know how you’ll react to seeing him, again. He’s still been calling and trying everything to get you to talk to him, even crying to your mom about how sorry he is, but as much as she’s grown a fondness for Eddie through your relationship, she was disappointed in the way he hurt you. So of course she let him down gently, by telling him “she’s done, she doesn’t want anything to do with you Eddie. I’m sorry.”

You decide to suck it up, Stacy’s right. It’s best to go and show him you’ve moved on, maybe that way he’ll know you’re serious and that you really want him to leave you alone.

So you head to get ready; putting together the sexiest outfit you could find. A black corset top, black mini skirt and some knee high boots. You almost used a whole can of aqua net on your hair, and did your makeup; cat eyes and red lipstick. You felt so hot, you couldn’t wait for Stacy to see you like this.

You park your car, and make your way into the pit. Already, you were getting a ton of looks and attention. But you ignore it, making your way to the bar, as you notice Eddie and his band setting up for their set. You keep your back turned not wanting to draw his attention towards you. Finally, Stacy comes over with a beautiful bright smile on her face.

“Hey, baby.” She says, her voice sending shivers through your body.

“Hey, can I-uh can I get a beer, please?”

“Of course, anything for you. You look so sexy, by the way.” She says as she send you a wink, before going to grab your beer out of the mini fridge, popping the cap off and handing it to you.

“What’s his face is about to go on. Im almost don’t with my shift, so we can hang out, dance or whatever you want to do, okay?” She says as she’s leaning in closer to your face from behind the bar.

“Okay, that sounds good.” You say back, not wanting to give away how nervous you are, but Stacy has already spotted the shake in your hands.

Suddenly, you hear the sounds of a guitar being strummed and a voice comes through the microphone

“We’re corroded coffin. Let’s go!” Eddie growls

And the sounds of “One. Two. Three. Four.” Being yelled out from behind the drum set. It made you smile, thinking of Gareth. You’d been really good friends throughout high school, but had kind of fallen off once you and Eddie started dating, due to jealousy. Eddie, didn’t like you being so close to Gareth, Jeff and the rest of the guys. Apparently, they all had crushes on you at one point. So, Eddie didn’t feel comfortable with you being as close to them as you use to be. You listened, and backed away like he asked. But now, you regret that more than anything.

As you begin to hear Eddie’s voice ring out, throughout the bar. A new wave of confidence and contentment, came over you. Thinking about all the shit Eddie had told you not to do, everything you blindly followed and obeyed. Meanwhile he fucked someone else, he didn’t have the same respect for you, that you carried for him, and something about that made this easier, made a weight slip off your shoulders. He didn’t deserve you, and you had never even seen it. Until now.

You turn around in your seat, as you stand up. Moving a little closer to the crowd. Stacy begins cleaning up, before she clocks out.

Eddie’s working his guitar and singing into the mic, eyes closed in concentration. You keep your eyes on him, you want him to see you. You want him to know you’re done.

As if on queue, he opens his eyes, scanning the crowd. Until, they stop on you. His eyes widen as he takes you in, your face, your body, your little skirt. He gave you so much shit for dressing like this once to one of his shows, said you were “begging for attention” so you stopped. You started wearing shirts and jeans, nothing that showed cleavage or legs. At the time you just thought he was jealous, it made you feel like he really loved you. But, you know that’s far from the truth now, you were someone for him to control. He no longer had that power over you.

Eddie continues the song, with his eyes on you. His face was a mix of anger and hunger, and it made you feel nothing. For the first time, your thighs weren’t clenching, your heart wasn’t racing, you felt absolutely nothing for him.

Stacy comes up behind you. Gently putting her hands on your waist, as she kisses your neck. That made your thighs clench, that made your heart speed up.

You look back at Eddie, as you hear the band still playing, but nothing being sung. He’s standing there, like a deer in the headlights. He’s stuck. Finally, the band stops, too. He walks off of stage towards you.

“Outside, now.” He says through gritted teeth

You grab Stacy’s hand, and follow.

As you walk out of the red door, Eddie already has a cigarette held up to his lips, he’s pacing back and forth.

“So what the fuck is this?” He spits, motioning between you and Stacy

“You guys trying to get back at me or something?” He asks as his jaw clenches

“Eddie, this has nothing to do with you.” Stacy says

“I’m not talking to you!” He spits

“Don’t talk to her like that!” You shout back as you glare at him.

“What the fuck, y/n? So what are you both together now?” He says as he eyes your intertwined hands

“Yeah, we are.” You say back

He snorts out a laugh, as he shakes his head.

“So what? That’s it? We’re done, for good?” Eddie’s eyes begin to water, as he looks down and wipes them with his ringed fingers.

“Eddie, you cheated on me. I can’t take you back after that. I did everything you asked me to in our relationship. I stopped dressing like this to your shows, I backed away from our friends because you didn’t like how close I was to them, and all the other shit you asked of me. I respected you enough to change so much about myself, and yet you couldn’t even keep it in your pants, after one argument. There’s absolutely no way in hell, I would ever subject myself to that again.” You say as the grip on Stacy’s hand tightens.

She kisses the back of your hand, before pulling you away towards your car. You felt like such a badass in this moment, you held the power and you loved it.

Eddie looked like a kicked puppy, and even though it hurt to leave him like that, finally you were being selfish.

Eddie watched as you both walked into the darkness of the car park, holding hands and giggling.

He couldn’t believe he really lost you, this time.

Thank you for reading! 💗

Comments & reblogs are appreciated

@tlclick73

[dyaz-stories]

there was one prize I’d cheat to win || Eddie Munson x Reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings & tags: pretty heavy make out session, they’re in a public place but no one’s there, reader has major insecurities about being inexperienced, general anxious thoughts, references to past shitty treatment by guys, eddie swears a lot.

a/n: big thanks to the people who liked my previous one-shot on Eddie! this one is technically in the same ‘series’ and has the same OC, but they can be read independently. i hope you enjoy it! will i manage to quote the entirety of willow by taylor in the titles of this series? stay tuned to find out

You should have known exactly how this would turn out when Eddie, deadly bored one evening, as you were desperately to get his attention back to the things you were supposed to be tutoring him on, had seemed to jolt back to life, giving you a piercing look.

“What would you do if I got a C on that exam?”

You’d blinked at him.

“What do you mean, what would I do?”

“What would I get? What’s my reward?”

A silence.

“…the satisfaction of knowing you’ve done a good job and a better chance at graduating this year?”

He shook his head, but, to be fair, you knew that would never work on him. There was a somewhat crazed glint in his eyes when they met yours, and, for some reason, you found yourself holding your breath. It was almost embarrassing how strong your reaction was when he looked at you like that, and yet you understood exactly where it came from. When Eddie looked like that, it felt like everything was possible. Like you’d follow him to the end of the world if he asked. It made it so easy to understand why the people in his group had chosen him to be their leader.

“How about a kiss?”

Your eyes went wide at the suggestion.

“What?” you managed to squeak out, and his grin widened at your reaction.

“C’mon, princess. You gotta up the stakes a little here.”

You could feel your cheeks burning, and you resisted the urge to chew on your lower lip at the suggestion.

It’s fine, you told yourself. He’s not being serious, and even if he was, that’s not going to happen.

“B,” you said.

It took him a second to process it before he lifted an eyebrow, amusement already dancing in his eyes, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

“B minus.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “B minus on your next exam and… Whatever. That.”

Maybe the way he leaned back in his chair with this satisfied, shit-eating grin should have alarmed you, but truth be told, you didn’t think anything of it.

Clearly, that had been your mistake, because when he triumphantly walked over to your little corner in the library, isolated and well hidden behind rows of books, and slammed a piece of paper on the table, all you could do was blink. A big red ‘B-‘ was circled at the top.

“The old bat thinks I cheated and she might not count it,” Eddie said, “but that’s the proof right there.”

“That’s—” you grabbed the paper, eyes quickly scanning the answers, recognizing the subject you’d been trying — and failing — to teach him about. “That’s really good,” you admitted. “Well done, Eddie,” you added, shooting him a bright smile.

For a second, all he did was stare, eyes widening a little, and then he cleared his throat, turning around swiftly enough that you couldn’t see the blush creeping on his face, so you were faced with the symbol of some rock band you didn’t know on the back of his jacket.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I had an incentive.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, and that was when it dawned on you.

The kiss.

He’d been serious about that?

You felt your heart leap in your throat immediately, heart starting to hammer without a warning at the thought of kissing Eddie. You’d been so, so sure he hadn’t meant it.

“Don’t—” you could feel your voice falling into a whisper. “Don’t make fun of me, Eddie.”

It wasn’t not like it would be the first time a guy’s pretended to show interest only to rub in your face how stupid you were for thinking it was sincere later on.

The surprise on Eddie’s face, if anything, was an indication that that kind of cruelty hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“What? I’m not making fun of— I’m the one who asked! What do you even—”

You took a deep breath, and he watched your demeanor carefully, brow furrowed.

“Hey, you know, it’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“No!” you were quick to protest — a little too quick, and you cursed yourself immediately. What if now he thought you were interested? What if he thought it was weird, or gross? What if your interest made you ridiculous in his eyes? You wished the thoughts wouldn’t plague you, but you simply couldn’t help it. Maybe, if anyone had shown you sincere interest at any point, you wouldn’t have such a hard time with it. “No, it’s, uh— I said I’d do it, right?”

“Right, but you don’t look thrilled about it, so if you want to back out, you know that’d be cool with me, right? I wouldn’t force you to do anything, you know?”

Finally, you relaxed a little, enough to give Eddie a small smile.

“I know, sorry, I’m just— I’m a little nervous.”

He shook his head, raising his hands as if to show you he didn’t mean harm.

“Hey, no problem, I’m not asking you to marry me, you know? It won’t mean anything, it’s just for fun.”

Your heart sank so brutally it might as well have dropped out of your chest. Of course. Of course. Why would it mean anything? Why would you have even entertained that thought?

“No, no, I know,” you protested — too quickly once more, “it’s just I don’t, uh, have a ton of experience? So I’m a little nervous.”

That was an interesting understatement, only technically not a lie, but you were not going to tell him that this was your first kiss. You couldn’t. You knew for a fact you were far from the only person in Hawkins High with no experience, and yet you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of shame over it — couldn’t help but tell yourself that no one had ever found you interesting or attractive enough to pursue you, and that it was on you. The fact that you’d be kissing him over some— bet only added to the embarrassment, and after what he’d just said… Well. You didn’t feel like letting him know was even an option.

Thankfully, Eddie wasn’t privy to all the thoughts that were spinning in your mind, and he just grinned at your admission.

“You don’t have to worry about that, princess. I’m a good enough kisser for the two of us. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself and, well, if I have to sacrifice myself for that, I say that’s a pretty good way to go, wouldn’t you say?”

This time, you couldn’t help but letting out a chuckle. Eddie was good at that, releasing tension with jokes. He seemed to easily feel when the people around him needed a laugh, and he wasn’t afraid to let his pride take a hit if it made them feel better.

That was something you really, really liked about him.

“Fine, so, uh…” You got up from your chair somewhat awkwardly. “Should we…?”

He gasped and faked a pearl-clutching motion.

“In the library? My, that goes against all of my principles!”

It was your turn to give him a grin.

“I mean, if you don’t want to…”

His demeanor shifted instantly, and so did his eyes. The way he took you in, eyes quickly traveling down your body and back up almost made you shiver. Your stomach twisted into a knot, your breath quickened, and you realized that this was actually happening. You were about to kiss Eddie Munson. In the library, of all places, fortunately almost completely empty at this time.

He took a step towards you, and you stood in place, leaning back just a little to rest some of your weight on the table. Eddie didn’t stop until he was standing right against you, and you found yourself gripping the table as a desperate attempt of keeping your heart under control. With how loud it was beating, you had a hard time believing he couldn’t tell.

“Oh, I want to,” he said, one of his hands coming to cup your face. It felt rough and calloused against your skin, but you didn’t mind. You held his gaze at first as he studied you, all too aware of how close his chest was, how his hips were almost against yours. You didn’t dare to touch him, unsure of where your hands should go, where they were supposed to go. After a few seconds, though, you could feel yourself grow heated under his touch, and you were sure he could tell.

Averting your eyes, you mumbled “So, are we doing this, or—”

His mouth was on yours immediately, and you gasped. His hand was still on your cheek, thumb coming under your jaw to tilt your head up, and it was all your mind could focus on. He kissed you slowly, lips moving against yours carefully, but with an underlying eagerness that had his body tense as a bowstring as he tried to hold himself back, tried not to scare you away. He’d promised you you would enjoy this, and he would make sure you would. He wasn’t going to— to fucking pounce on you like an animal, when you’d just told him you were nervous.

No matter how much he wanted to.

You didn’t notice him opening and closing his hand near your waist, resisting the urge to pull you closer.

Your eyes were closed, kissing back almost carefully. His body felt hot against yours, but maybe you were the one heating up, you genuinely couldn’t say. Finally, one of your hands came to rest on his arm, and another one moved higher, fingers hesitantly threading through his long hair. You weren’t sure of what you were doing exactly, but you did know you wanted more of— of this.

He pulled away just a second, allowing the two of you to breathe, and he opened his eyes to get a good look at you.

It turned out that that was a mistake if he wanted to keep behaving himself. Seeing you so close, with your eyes focused on him, lips parted and slightly swollen, panting softly— that was a sight that almost drove him crazy.

He leaned forward again, eagerly, kissing you harder, hand gripping the table with everything he had to keep himself in check.

And then, he felt you moaning softly into his mouth, and that was when he finally lost it.

His hand came to grab your waist, pulling you closer, hips now pressed into yours, chest flushed against you. You were just so fucking soft under him, head tilted up towards him. There was so much he wanted to do to you.

You tried to respond in kind to his energy, fingers pulling on his hair a little as if there was a way for your mouths to get closer. You were pressed against the table, body slowly leaning back, your knees threatening to give in underneath you. Finally, you felt his tongue brushing against yours, and you moaned again, which only seemed to make him more eager.

Your elbow had come to rest on the table and you were half laying on it when he stopped abruptly, body half-covering yours. Another uncontrollable, but fortunately quiet, moan escaped you once more, and Eddie had to do his best both to stop himself and to hold back his own groan. How the fuck was he ever supposed to stop if you sounded like that?

This was just— this was just unfair.

Damn, he should have gotten you to his car before cashing in on that kiss, then he wouldn’t have felt so bad, but you’d been standing there looking like such an angel, and then you’d started teasing, and he just— He hadn’t been able to hold back.

But he definitely wasn’t going to fuck you in the library.

Not that he’d have minded, or that he hadn’t gotten handsy in here before, but he— That wasn’t how he wanted things to go, for his first time with you. Even if the way you were looking at him right now, with your beautiful eyes wide and expectant, pupils dilated, half-laying on the table, made you the most tempting thing he’d ever seen.

Truth be told, it terrified him, how you made him feel. The desire, he could take, he could act on, but he knew he’d crumble the second you’d touch him in any other way.

“E-everything okay?” you asked, worried eyes searching his when he didn’t move, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

He was quick to move away, taking that hand in his instead to pull you back on your feet.

“So, what’s your verdict?” he asked with a grin, just as quick to let go of you and to take a step back, the best way to make sure he didn’t do something stupid. “Am I a good kisser or what?”

You hadn’t thought your cheeks could burn even more.

“Um,” you mumbled. “Yes. Good. Was it— Did you, uh, enjoy yourself as well?”

You didn’t manage to read the emotion that passed on his face then, but he swallowed, and then he nodded.

“Yeah, princess. I definitely enjoyed myself.”

The words brought a small smile to your lips that you tried your best to hide. He didn’t add anything, though, and the silence that followed was incredibly awkward.

“So, do you want to work on—”

“It’s going to be weird if I stay,” Eddie interrupted you quickly. “We should just skip the lesson for today.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, right, you’re— you’re probably right about that.”

“But we could do that again later this week.” A silence. “Working together, I mean.”

Why had he said that? He could have just left it hanging, for fuck’s sake, and— He was behaving like a fucking freshman. What the fuck.

“Sure, sure,” you were quick to agree. “So I’ll… see you next time?”

“Right. See you.”

When Eddie fled the scene, you were left wondering what had come over you just minutes ago, and trying to quell the beating of your heart. Your fingers ghosted over your lips, and you found yourself chuckling to yourself without making a sound. You weren’t sure what to make of all of this, but even your anxious mind had to come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t have kissed you like that if he wasn’t at least attracted to you, and that thought was— nice. You could live with that.

If you’d seen the triumphant way Eddie punched the air with his fist when he walked out of the library, it would only barely have added to the little cloud you were sitting on right now.

a/n (bis): thank you so much for reading! i hope you liked this little addition to the ‘series’, it was a lot of fun to write. i don’t know yet when/if i’ll write more, it’ll depend on whether or not i get any ideas, but if you enjoyed it, don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask, reblog or leave a lil comment! they mean the world to us writers and do wonders to keep us writing 😊

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Euclid- E.M.

Okay, I put a rush on this so I could have it out before I leave for my anniversary trip tomorrow, and I need to warn you, it is brutal. You can listen to the song I drew inspiration from here: https://youtu.be/DDdByJYUVeA

It's been months since Eddie cheated on you, and life has been hell as you try to heal. But when the chance comes, are you able to take him back?

Separate Ways (Pt. 1) - Part-Time Lover (Extra)

Masterlist

TW- 18+ Minors DNI, smut, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of drinking, panic attacks, cursing, pining, mutual pining, pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweet girl), oral (f receiving), fingering, pnv, protected sex (Wrap before you tap, besties <3), all around shitshow of feels and lots of crying

Pairings- Eddie X Reader, Bestfriend!Robin X Reader

Word Count- 7,698

The phone rang at least twice a day, but you didn’t pick it up. Not when you knew who would be on the other side. It’s been like this for the past couple months, and your eyes start watering of their own will every time you hear it, wishing so badly you could just throw the phone at the wall and smash it into a million pieces. Why can’t he just give it a rest? Take a hint? He should know by now that you want nothing more to do with him, not after everything he did to you. 

You still wake up smiling every few days, dreams of him on brighter days dancing across the backs of your eyelids fading into the grim reality that he forced you to see just a few months ago as you wake up alone again, and again, and again. You still touch the space in the hollow of your neck, grasping at a necklace that no longer resides there for a comfort you can never seem to find. He broke you. Eddie broke you.  

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be married to him by now. In some parallel universe, you had graduated high school with full honors, and you had been able to make your journey back to Hawkins to spend the rest of your life with the man you loved to the ends of the earth. But not this one. In this one, you laid in agony day after day wishing that the man you loved had loved you enough to wait for you just a little longer before turning into the arms of another.  

“Sweetheart?” A sliver of light breaks through the darkness of your room as your mom opens the door. You wipe your face of stray tears and sniff back the snot threatening to drip from your nose as you sit up to talk to her. “Are you hungry? I was thinking about getting from that place you love over by the movie theater,” Your mom has been so good to you, even after all of the venom you spent on her and your dad when you were forced to move here. Now it was like a little slice of heaven on most days. You never had to worry about seeing Eddie around town. He’d be stupid to show up here, especially unannounced.  

You nod to your mom, your voice hoarse as you respond, “Yeah, that would be great mom. Thank you,” She gives you a soft smile, knowing how hard it is for you on these kinds of days. The days where you can’t seem to get him out of your head.  

“Okay, I’ll be back soon then,” She starts closing the door, but she opens it back up to say something else, “I hate to ask, sweetie, but I’m expecting a call at some point tonight from the carpet people to confirm our appointment for this weekend. Your father should be home soon, but if you hear the phone before he gets here, would you mind grabbing it?” She looks at you apologetically as the pit forms in your stomach, but you nod anyway, giving her a fake smile.  

“Yeah, I can do that, no problem,” Your fingers find dried pieces of skin to pick around one of your thumbs, and you pull one that was too fresh. You can feel the live skin pulling away and you know you’ll bleed.  

“Thank you, honey. I’ll be back soon,” She closes the door then, softly clicking the handle back into place as you’re enveloped in darkness again. You heave a heavy sigh, throwing your head back against your pillow before rubbing your down your face to hopefully wipe off some of the sleepiness from your eyes. You click the light on next to your bed and contemplate getting up. You don’t want to fall back asleep before your mom gets home with the food she kindly offered to get you. 

You sigh again as you decide to at least go to the bathroom and get something to drink, so you heave your legs over the side of your bed and slip them into your house shoes before quietly padding your way down the hallway to the bathroom, then the kitchen for a glass of water. You drink it down and refill it, taking a few more big gulps before setting it to the side and going to get plates out of the cabinet for dinner. 

As you set the table, your blood runs cold when you hear the phone ring shrilly on the opposite wall from you, nearly dropping the forks in your hand as you jolt to attention. It’s a daunting task to walk over, and so you take your time putting the forks down in a heap on the table before trudging over to the dock and gingerly picking it up. You put it to your ear and let out a quiet “Hello?” 

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s dad.” You almost cry in relief when you hear his voice over the receiver.  

“Dad, hey what’s up?” You try to calm the shaking in your voice as the adrenaline seeps from your system, but it’s no use.  

“I’m gonna be a little later getting home than I thought. I need to go by the Xerox place before they close to copy a few things. Just ask your mom to put my dinner in the microwave for me?”  

“Yeah, sure. I can do that,” 

“Okay, thanks lovebug. I’ll see you soon,”  

“Okay, love you, dad.” He hangs up the phone and you go back to your task of setting the table. Just as you finish, the phone rings again, and you walk over a little more confidently this time, your fear having subsided a bit after taking the first call.  

“Hello?” There’s no sound from the other end for a moment, and you’re thinking this might end up being an automated message when you finally hear him. 

“Y/N?” Your stomach falls down to your feet, and you waste no time slamming the phone back into its place, your hands breaking out in a cold sweat. The phone rings again right after, and you panic, torn between answering and letting it ring. But you promised your mom, and so you pick it up again, and, terrified, you hold the phone to your face. 

“Y/N, just give me five minutes, please. That’s all I ask!” Your breath trembles uncontrollably, but you find yourself more angry than sad right now. Enough is enough. 

“Eddie!” His name feels like a sweet, sweet poison falling from your tongue, “All I asked was for you to wait for me, to love me. And you couldn’t do that. So, for the love of God, just leave me the fuck alone!” You slam the phone back down, sobs starting to crack from your burning chest, hot tears spilling over your cheeks. You hide your face in your hands, trying to control your breathing and calm down enough to at least see so you can sit at the kitchen table, but it’s all too much. You let yourself fall to the floor and wrap your arms around your knees as you continue to sob, your mouth hanging open to let all the sounds trapped inside you free while you have time alone.  

Your mom finds you there, still crying loudly as she opens the door from the garage, food bag in hand before she rushes over and sits next to you, pulling your face into her chest to rock you back and forth, smoothing your hair lovingly as you fall to pieces once again. 

That wasn’t the last call from Eddie, but it was the second to last. The next day, you came home from work to a voicemail on the machine. Normally, you would instantly delete it to try to save yourself another breakdown, but this time you listened, wanting to know what he would’ve said to you last night if you had given him the chance. “Y/N, I- I'm sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I’m sorry for not being able to leave you be. I just... You’re like a ghost in my hallway, I can’t sleep without you. I see you in everything, and I can’t get you out of my mind. I love you, so much, and I know that that’s probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever said, but I can’t let you go without telling you that one last time. But if there is some, small, tiny, selfless part of you that could love me again, no, even just forgive me... Call me. Whenever you have the time,” Your finger hovers over the delete button after the machine beeps, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, the sound of his voice is like a shot of heroin, even through the slight slur no doubt due to more than a couple of drinks. 

Without him ringing your phone off the hook every day, it becomes a little easier to start forgetting him. You start to smile more, take more time to enjoy the things you used to, like riding your bike and baking with your mom. You even call Robin, who you haven’t talked to since she so kindly helped you get home after you found Eddie and Chrissy Cunningham together in her car.  

You’ve missed her terribly, and you ache to tell her everything that’s been happening with Eddie calling, and even the voicemail you kept, but you can’t bring yourself to dredge it all up. Instead, you talk about having her over soon, since school is out. You’ve let yourself develop favorite places here, and you’d love to show them to her. She wildly accepts, rapidly talking about dates that would be best for her, and soon you’ve got a trip planned for late July. 

Your calls with Robin get more frequent after, and she fills you in on everything outside of Eddie going on in Hawkins. “Steve’s starting classes at the community college in the fall. He says he’s gonna do a business major like his dad, but I think you and I both know he’s gonna end up switching before the first semester is even over. Oh, and Nancy just got an internship at a major newspaper ever since she wrote that article about those toxic fertilizers being sold all over Indiana...” You smile as she tells you everything, taking it all in as you let yourself really miss Hawkins for the first time in a while. It’s so odd now, thinking about it. You spent the first 18 years of your life there, and now it all almost feels like a dream. 

You get your first college acceptance letter in late June, and another just a couple days later. You were always a good student, but after you left Eddie, things went really downhill those last few weeks of school. You almost didn’t even pass your finals. Thankfully, your GPA was so good that it didn’t do too much to your overall grading, but it still definitely affected your choice of schools. Washington State accepted you with a half ride scholarship, and the University of Utah accepted you with a $3000 grant to help with the tuition. You didn’t get into University of California, Irvine, but it wasn’t your first choice anyway. Your parents celebrate with you with a nice dinner out, and you think about the opportunities you would’ve lost had you gone back to Hawkins and settled for the community college there. You’ve been wanting to go into Nursing since you started high school, and with the scholarship to Washington State, it makes that dream much more real.  

You scream in delight as Robin pulls into your driveway, having been watching out the window for the last hour expecting her arrival. You rush out the door as she parks and embrace her tightly the moment she steps out of her car. “I can’t believe you’re here!” You cry in delight, squeezing her so hard Robin feels like her eyeballs are about to explode from their sockets, not that she cares. She hugs you back with just as much force, so happy to see her best friend again.  

“I know! I’ve missed you so much! How are you?” She asks as you separate. You give a contemplative smile as you think of the right words to say. 

“Up and down, you know. But right now, I am super Up since you’re here!” You laugh, pulling her into another hug, much lighter this time now that you’ve both gotten your initial excitement out of your systems. You help her haul her bags into your house, taking her upstairs to the guest room she’ll be staying in for the next week while she’s here.  

“This is nice! Much bigger than your old house!” Robin comments, looking around the soft blue painted room.  

“Yeah, with my dad’s new job, the company he works for gave him some assistance to buy a new house out here along with the pay raise, so we got a good deal on it after everything was said and done,” You shrug. It is a nice house, you suppose. But something about it just doesn’t feel like home. It never has. 

“That’s awesome! So, what kind of fun stuff do we have planned for this week?” Robin asks as she sits on the bed. You sit next to her, doing an excited wiggle as you tell her everything. 

“So, there’s a festival going on this weekend downtown, so we’re definitely going to that. And we can hit the roller rink, go to the movies, and we have a pretty cool mall here, so we can go hang out there too! And we just got a hot tub last month, so I hope you brought a swimsuit!” Robin’s smile grows wider as you list off all of the fun things you can do, oohing and ahhing at all of the options. 

“Well,” She says, lifting her eyebrow playfully, “I definitely think we should start with the hot tub!” You laugh as she gets up, flipping her suitcase over to dig out her bikini. 

“Okay! Get changed and I’ll go get it ready for us!” You’re practically skipping down the stairs with joy when you gently close the door behind you, just so happy to have one of your favorite people back after so long. 

As the days pass, you and Robin talk nonstop about how your lives are going, usually either walking around the mall, some icy treat in your hands, or lounging in your backyard, soaking up the sun. You’ve been getting a bit curious as to the whereabouts of Eddie and what he’s been up to, but you’re almost afraid to hear the answer. Finally, after it eats right through you, you ask as you and Robin sit on your patio, sharing a plate of watermelon, ice clinking against your glass as you take a sip of sweet tea. “So, what’s Eddie been up to?” You ask casually, trying to veil the nervousness as you bat your lashes innocently at Robin, whose face has fallen. 

“He’s...” Her face contorts, like she’s trying to find a way to put it gently. Your stomach does flips in your abdomen as you wait, as both possible answers are ones you dread. “Are you sure you want to know?” Your façade cracks, but only for a moment before you pull yourself back together and nod. It’s gonna be bad no matter how you slice it. Either he’s doing great and moved on, probably with Chrissy, or he’s doing so badly he’s drowning, just like you have been for the better part of this year. Your voice comes out more serious, and a bit sad as you let your eyes fall from Robin’s sympathetic gaze. 

“Yeah, I think I do.” You hear Robin take a gulp of air, chewing on the answer you wish she’d just spit out. 

“He’s not doing too great,” You look up at her, but she’s not looking at you anymore. She’s fidgeting with her fingers as she thinks of the right words to say. “I don’t really see much of him anymore, but Steve still does, and he says that Eddie’s been kind of wallowing in self-hatred ever since you left that day. All I know is that the last time I saw him, it looked like he hadn’t slept in days...” Your heart pounds loudly in your throat as you hang onto her every word, and your iron grip on your cup almost makes you afraid it’s going to shatter in your hands. 

“When was that? When did you see him last?” You almost sound like you’re pleading for the answer, and Robin’s eyes are soft on yours as she replies. 

“He came in to rent a movie last week.”  

So, he’s been in just as much pain as you have been, and suddenly, it all comes crashing around you. It’s like your chest is full of thick tar, burning white hot up to your throat. You chew the inside of your mouth to keep it all from coming up, and the words he spoke on his last call to you echo in your mind. “But if there is some, small, tiny, selfless part of you that could love me again, no, even just forgive me... Call me. Whenever you have the time,” 

You never told Robin about the gritty details of your Eddie induced depression, but then, it all spills out. You tell her about the incessant calling, all of the breakdowns, panic attacks, second thoughts... All of the hatred and the mind-numbing love you still felt for Eddie. All of it, up to that last call, which you let her listen to on the answering machine. You even admit to her that you listen to it at least once a week, twice if you have a really bad day. You sit with her on the couch in your living room as you let her process it all. 

“Would you ever consider taking him back?” she asks, brows knitted together in confusion. 

“No!” You assert, before your mind starts racing toward the alternative. “Maybe... I don’t know. I don’t know if I could,” Your head falls into your hands as you let out a groan that’s been locked deep inside you. “If he had just not been so fucking stupid, I wouldn’t even have to wonder,” You look back up at Robin as she listens intently to you. “But I dream about him, Robin. Even still, and I wake up so fucking happy until I remember that he’s gone,” You confess. You had even dreamt about him last night, and you remember it so vividly, like you could reach out and feel his warmth right then if you wanted to. 

“Maybe...” Robin begins gently, “Maybe it was just some stupid mistake. Maybe he was drunk when it started, and he just didn’t know how to make it stop,” You give her a look of warning, and she throws her hands up, “I’m not saying it’s a good excuse, but it could just be what happened!” She says, sighing deeply. “Look, all I will say is that I have never seen someone love someone else as much as you two loved each other. I would never tell you that one way or the other is right or wrong, but if it were me, I might have to rethink my decision—especially if it still hurt this much.” She lends a comforting hand to your knee, and you cover it with yours thankfully. “I just want you to be happy, no matter how that happens. You’re my best friend,” A small tear falls from the corner of your eye as you pull her into a tight hug, rocking gently as tears leak onto her sun warmed shoulder.  

As summer turns to fall, your parents start mentioning a trip to Hawkins for Thanksgiving, and your stomach knots around itself every time it’s brought up. You’ve been considering going, but you also don’t know what decision you’ll come to. They would never make you go, of course, but there’s more than one reason to want to go back. Your friends, your family... Eddie.  

You’ve been so close to calling him dozens of times since Robin was there with you, her words and Eddie’s running over and over through your mind like a broken record. You even got halfway through dialing once, before getting too scared and putting the phone back down. You’ve weighed the pros and cons, gone through every possible scenario you can imagine. There’s a chance you wouldn’t even see him, but there’s also the chance that you see him and he’s with someone else now, or he’s not with someone else, but you don’t want him, or maybe you would, or maybe he wouldn’t want you anymore... 

Your mind is madness as the trip nears, and you wish more than ever that you still had the heavy metal ring on the chain around your neck to keep you grounded. You reach for it, only to find the skin bare like every other time you try. It’s like if you wish for it hard enough, one day it’ll appear again, and you’ll have that piece of Eddie back to help you through this.  

Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe the wishing and the brushing of your skin against the base of your throat has been the answer all along. If you’re wishing for Eddie so badly, why don’t you go get him? If nothing else, maybe seeing him again would provide some sort of closure for the both of you.  

Your parents are surprised at your decision to join them, but you don’t let them in on all of the reasons why, out of fear that they’d talk you out of it. You can’t keep living like this, staring at the ceiling and watching the past play over and over of a time when you were truly happy. Of when Eddie was there with you. 

The drive back to Hawkins feels like eternity as you pass through state after state of boring, flat nothingness, but as you start seeing mile signs with the town name on it, the numbers going down as you near your destination, your body starts buzzing with adrenaline. You have to keep your shaking breaths quiet as to not alarm your parents of the turmoil your body and mind are facing as you go over the details of your plan.  

When you pull into the hotel parking lot, you grab your bike out of the trunk first, wanting to have it close by after you haul your bags up to the rooms your parents have booked for the next few days. You told your parents you’re staying with Robin tonight to catch up, which isn’t a lie. You’re planning on going there, after you go to see Eddie.

You contemplated the pros and cons of calling before showing up unannounced, and you decided that if you accidentally caught him with another woman again, you’d probably never recover, and so the week prior, while no one was home but you, you dialed the number you knew by heart, fingers shaking over the numbers. As much as you steeled yourself to hear his voice again, it was like your blood turned to lead when you heard him. 

“Hello?” You took a deep breath, your lungs refusing to calm their trembling. 

“Eddie,” You breathed, trying not to lose your resolve. 

“Y/N?” His voice was hopeful, the pained sting of hearing you after so long was evident.   

“D-do you remember that place in the park we used to meet?” A heat broke out over your face as you waited for him to respond. 

“Yeah, yeah of course, I do,” His voice was just as shaky as yours. It was only a mild comfort as you continued. 

“I’m gonna be in town next week. Meet me there next Wednesday. I think we’ll be getting in around 6 in the evening,” You took another deep breath, closing your eyes to envision the reunion. The best- and worst-case scenarios turning over in your mind like revolving doors. 

“O-okay. I’ll be there. I promise,” His voice thick, almost pleading for you to say more, just so he could hear your voice. 

“Okay. Bye, Eddie,” You hung up before he could say anything else, and you clutched a hand to your chest to try to calm your hammering heart. No backing down, now. You thought.  

You ride your bike hard and fast to the park, scanning with your eyes over the parking lot to find Eddie’s van. You spot it, near the back, and you steel yourself to see him as you hop off before your wheels hit the gravel, walking down the trail at the edge of the tree line and off the path, walking in the memory of the countless times you met Eddie here. As you near the alcove of red, orange, yellow, brown leaves, you see him, and you stop for a moment, not knowing if you can truly bear the weight of seeing him again. But you need this, and you can tell that he does too. His back is turned to you, head in his hands. You can hear him muttering something, but you don’t know what, and so you scan the ground to see if you can find a loose twig to step on to break him out of his inner world. 

Eddie’s head snaps around with the sound of the branch, his eyes red and wet from crying. You approach slowly, and he watches you, his face filled with wonder as he sees you for the first time in 8 months. “Y-Y/N,” He greets you as you stop a few feet away from you, your bicycle still in your hands. He sticks his decorated hands in his pockets, probably to keep himself from pulling you into him, and you take a deep breath, looking everywhere but his face. “What- I mean... How have you been?” The question strikes you deep in your chest. If only he knew.  

“I’m okay, I guess,” You finally muster the strength to look at him, and his eyes say everything. They scan over your face, over your body, remembering every detail like he’s seeing a ghost. “I um, no. That’s a lie. I’m not doing okay,” You feel a thickness in your throat, and you bite it back as you try to keep your composure. “You broke me, Eddie.”  

Eddie looks away from you, then, into the trees, like he’s following the tracks of some scurrying creature in the brush. “I know,” His jaw clenches tightly, and you see his Adam’s Apple bobbing in a swallow that you can tell is pushing down a flurry of words he wishes he could say. 

“What makes it worse, though...” You begin, taking a small step toward him. Eddie’s eyes flick over to you again, his mouth quirking down as he braces himself for the venomous words he undoubtedly deserves. “What makes it worse, is that no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop loving you,” You have to grit your teeth to get the words out clearly, and you clear your throat as you try to keep the tears at bay. Eddie’s face contorts in confusion, his soft, tired brown eyes searching yours for the explanation. 

“What?” He takes a breath, a step, just a few inches closer to you. You still can’t tell if you find it comforting or not, but the magnetism between the two of you is getting stronger. Any closer and you wouldn’t be able to let yourself leave him. “You- you still love me?” Hope fills his features, and it’s like he’s found the fountain of youth. He instantly looks refreshed and rejuvenated, just by hearing the words fall from those perfect lips of yours. 

“But I don’t know if I can forgive you,” You confess, before Eddie can take another step. “Robin told me how hurt you’ve been, and I know that it’s been hell for the both of us, but come on, Eddie! I know you know that whatever pain you’re going through, mine is so much worse. At least you knew what was going on. At least you weren’t blindsided by this- this fucking nuke that fell right on us the minute you decided to take Chrissy home that night!” You’re yelling now, your bike pushed aside into the dirt as tears fall freely from your eyes. You want so badly to step closer to him, to hit him or kiss him or a combination of both, but you keep your distance, needing your mind to stay somewhat clear as you say your piece.  

“I love you, Eddie, but goddamn it, do I fucking hate that I do! Because I remember you and you are like rain in the desert! You are every sunrise and sunset to me, and I can’t even bear to look at them anymore because they remind me of you!” You’re choking your words between sobs now, your knees getting weaker as your breathing grows more erratic. Eddie’s crying too, you can see that through the tears, and his body leans toward you, ready to catch you if you fall.  

“Please, Eddie, please just--” You let out a scream of frustration, not knowing what you want from him, or yourself. You let your knees fall to the soft, leaf covered ground, your arms wrapped around yourself tightly as you sob, tears and snot pouring down your blotchy face, not like you could bring yourself to care. Your eyes are screwed shut so tight you can’t even see the light on the other side of your eyelids, but you can hear the soft crunch of leaves, and Eddie’s warmth as he grabs you, pulling you into him as he rocks the two of you on the ground in the middle of the autumn canopy.  

You push yourself into him, feeling his hands rub your back, his lips pressed hard against the top of your head as he whispers sweet nothings to you as you cry. You can hear him sniffle every once in a while as he cries with you. You finally move so that your arms wrap around him, your face finding its home in the crook of his neck, and you breathe him in. It’s so familiar, so goddamn intoxicating that you don’t ever want to let go. You stay like that for a long time, the tears wetting his t-shirt finally slowing, and then stopping, leaving only trembling limbs and breaths as you cling to each other in the darkening forest. 

“I never stopped loving you,” You hear him whisper into your hair. “Not for a single second. If I could take back every fucking thing I ever did to hurt you, I would in a fucking heartbeat. I would rather die than hurt you again. If you let me, I will spend the rest of my fucking life making sure that you’re happy, Y/N. I miss you every day, every second. I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about you, and when I finally sleep, I dream about you. You’re my everything. You are everything. I will never be able to tell you how fucking sorry I am. Please, baby, please, just give me a chance,” You can feel the warmth of his breath in your hair, his tears like rain gathering in the strands. Your hands clench around his jacket, your head shaking slowly as you try to find the words. 

“I don’t know if I can,” The sound is muffled by his chest, but he hears you, his chest shaking in a choked sob.  

“Just give me tonight, please. Let me love you tonight, and if you never want to see me again, I’ll let you go. I promise, I promise” His voice cracks on the words, repeating the phrase like a mantra, a prayer, a wish for you to say yes.  

You can’t fight the feeling, and you don’t know if you want to, but you lift your head and see Eddie’s face up close for the first time in close to a year. He looks ten years older than the last time you saw him, but he’s still so beautiful. His cheeks and eyes are pink and puffy from all of the emotion of the day, but he’s still there. The Eddie you love. You take a breath and let one of your hands touch his face, sweeping a couple of stray curls from his forehead. His eyes gaze into yours like you’re the key to the whole universe, the meaning of life itself.  

Your fingers trail across his cheekbone, down toward his jaw, across his lips. Your eyes are scanning over wherever you touch, committing every single detail to memory, because this may be the last time you’re this close to him. Your hand comes to cup his jaw, thumb brushing a stray tear from his eyes, and you lean closer, breaths shuddering as your lips gently graze his. Eddie lets you take your time, his eyes fluttering closed as you leave feather light kisses over his lips, just testing the waters. Finally, you slot your mouth against his with a little more weight, and you can feel Eddie’s face contort behind your closed eyes as he holds you even tighter to him. It’s the most dizzying kiss you’ve ever had, filled with every single thing you’ve ever wanted to say to each other. One of Eddie’s hands moves into your hair, carding through the soft strands, and the sound you make is pained and euphoric like nothing you’ve ever heard before. You feel Eddie’s tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and you open your mouth to receive it, relishing in the taste of him as the kiss deepens, the hand not on his face wandering under his shirt to feel the warmth of his abdomen. Eddie suddenly pulls away, his eyes darkened in the fading light of twilight. His hand finds your face as he stares into you. 

“I- I can’t do this here,” He looks around at the darkening forest, crickets starting to chirp in the otherwise still night. “Let me take you home with me,” He whispers, his eyes pleading, his forehead pressing into yours as you feel his sweet breath fan over your face. You give a quick nod, biting your lip as you instantly miss the feeling of his mouth on you. 

“Okay, let’s go home,” Eddie helps you up and grabs your bike, walking it back to his van for you, your arm threaded through the crook of his elbow. It’s quiet, but the air is thick with adrenaline with wanting. When you get back to the gravel parking lot, Eddie’s van is the last vehicle there, standing alone in the new light of the moon overhead like a lighthouse guiding you. 

Eddie hoists your bike into the back of his truck with ease, shutting the double doors with a loud creak before going with you to open your door for you. You don’t let go of him until the last second, and you pull his face to yours in a chaste kiss before you let him close the door for you, running around to the other side to start the car. The chill air is starting to seep into your bones, and you’re thankful when Eddie turns the heat on as he tears out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, both of you dying to get your hands on each other again.  

The door has barely swung back into place when you and Eddie start tearing your clothes off each other, mouths pressed together, tongue and teeth starting to reacquaint themselves. Eddie presses you into the wall, your back breaking out in goosebumps as your skin hits, but they’re quickly soothed by his rough, warm hands wandering up your bare sides. You feel the vibrations as he moans into your mouth, desperate to feel you again, and can’t say you don’t feel the same. You reach for the button on his jeans when he pulls away, one hand going to grab yours as he shakes his head. “No,” He mutters, pressing warm kisses to your shoulder, up your neck, to just under your ear. “Tonight belongs to you,” He bends down, his arms scooping you up under your thighs as you let out a whimper, and he carries you like this to his bedroom, making lazy patterns on the skin of your collarbone with his lips. He practically kicks his door down, hoisting you up to get a better grip on you as he crosses the threshold before laying you down on his bed. He kneels in front of you, pressing kisses to your hips as his hands find the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling down the zipper as you writhe in need beneath him. “So beautiful,” he mutters into the skin, and you’re suddenly hit with the image of this exact scenario, but rather than you, it’s Chrissy. You feel tears threatening to slip from your eyes again at the thought, but you do everything to push them away, just needing to get through this. You need this, as much as Eddie does. Just try. Forgive him, forgive him, forgive him...  

Your underwear comes down with your pants, and you whine pathetically as you feel Eddie press hot kisses into the meat of your cold thighs, thankful to be pulled away from the disgusting thoughts infiltrating your brain. 

“E-Eddie,” You breathe. It’s so much sensation, more than you’ve felt in a long time, and you already know it won’t take you much to get you over the edge, if only the visions of Chrissy stay away. “Please, Eddie, I need you,” You sob. 

“I know baby, I know,” His lips graze over your dripping core, and his tongue takes a tentative lick, up and down, fingers digging into your hips as he lets out a pained sound. A harsh cry flies from your lips and one of your hands seeks his. “I missed this,” He whispers into you, his tongue finding a rhythm between your thighs. “I missed the fucking taste of you,” He hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading you open a bit more as you grab at his hair. Your hips push into his face on their own, like they’re possessed with pure, wanton need. Eddie helps, pulling you closer with the hand not holding yours, his palm spread over your thigh, fingers pressed into the tender flesh to keep you still as he works you over. 

You don’t know how you’ll be able to take his cock, not when you’re already such a mess for him. You’ve always been sensitive, sure, but this is a whole new world. You’ve been longing for the feeling of him ever since the last time you were together, but it feels like the first time all over again, but even better. “I’m gonna let go of your hand, okay?” He glances up at you, eyes soft as you nod, letting his fingers slip from in between yours. The sounds you make come to a new point of needy and desperate as you feel him slip two fingers into your aching hole. You feel the cold metal of his rings hitting the hot skin there as he pumps in and out, fingertips curling so perfectly up into the velvet walls of your core where he knows will make you melt in his hands. You fist the sheets of his bed in your hand, hot tears slipping from the corners of your screwed-shut eyes as you let go, a white-hot bliss exploding all over your body as he sucks your clit. 

You cry Eddie’s name, a loud sob racking your chest in a crude display of raw, overwhelming emotion. You reach for him, needing him closer, needing his lips on yours so bad it hurts. When Eddie realizes, he wastes no time coming and cradling your body against his bare chest, pressing his lips hard against yours. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. I’m not gonna let you go,” He whispers between kisses. Your hands start struggling at the waistband of his pants, trying to push them down as tears continue leaking from the corners of your eyes. One of Eddie’s hands leaves your body only to help you push them down, and he shakes his feet out, kicking them away. “Let’s get comfy, sweet girl, I wanna take good care of you, okay?”  

You nod, still trying to catch your breath from the best orgasm of your life as you scoot back onto the center of the bed. Eddie leaves you for a moment to pull out a foil wrapper from the top drawer of his dresser, the place he always kept them, and another image flashes in your mind of when he did this for Chrissy. How many times was she here in his bed? How many times did Eddie make her cum? How many times did he cum for her?  

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of Eddie’s lips on yours again as he kneels between your open legs. “I love you, so much,” He whimpers, one had resting above your head, the other coming to hold your face as he kisses you. But you can’t say it back, not when these images are flashing through your mind. You push them away, further than before, and try to keep your calm as you feel Eddie push into you, stretching you open as you both moan into each other. It’s been so long since you’ve had sex with anyone that it stings almost like it’s your first time, but Eddie goes slow, and soon, he has you worked open on his cock, pumping in and out of you languidly, both of you wanting to savor this feeling. Eddie gives a breath of a laugh, sweet sounds slipping through his lips as he whispers to you, “I- I don’t think I’m going to last, baby. I haven’t done this in a while. And you feel so fucking good. You’re so fucking perfect for me,”  

You wonder if he ever said that to Chrissy. You wonder, you wonder, you wonder, and soon, you can’t think of anything else. Your tears return, but now it’s not from an overwhelm of bliss, but from despair. You can’t forgive him, no matter how hard you try. You cling to him with new purpose, trying to remember every detail, every curve, every blemish, every freckle as you beg for more, wanting to feel what it’s like to unravel for him just one more time. It takes a bit longer than last time as you fight to keep your mind on the sensation, but soon, with Eddie’s sweet words and sounds filling your senses, you feel your core tensing, then fluttering around his cock, clenching tightly over and over again as you ride out your high. Eddie isn’t far behind, and soon, his hips stutter, and he lets out a whimper of your name as he cums.  

Both of you lay there together to catch your breath for a few minutes before Eddie gently pulls out of you to get you both cleaned up. Everything is white noise outside of your brain as you plan your escape. You can’t bring yourself to say it to his face. You’ll have to take the coward’s way out, even though it kills you. 

It doesn’t take long for Eddie’s breaths to even out with you wrapped in his arms, and you wait for a long time before attempting to get up, being as quiet as you possibly can to gather your clothes. As you search for your bra, you notice a chain sitting on Eddie’s dresser, the one he gave you almost a year ago, the promise ring still swinging from its center as you pick it up gently from the dresser. You can’t help but shove it in your pocket, the last piece of Eddie you’ll ever have, before going on to finish getting dressed. 

You have to inch Eddie’s bedroom door open slowly because you know it creaks, but you manage to slip through without having to open it all the way, bringing it back to gently click closed behind you. You grab your shirt from the ground in the living room, then, and go to the kitchen to find something to write on. You may be running away in the middle of the night, but he at least deserves a note explaining why. 

I’m so sorry, Eddie.  

I tried with everything I have, but I just can’t let myself be yours. Not when I can’t stop thinking about all the pretty words you said to Chrissy when it should’ve been me in your bed. I hope you can be the one to forgive me, now. I love you, and I always will. You brought me heaven tonight, for the last time. Thank you. 

You slip out the door, walking briskly toward Eddie’s truck just in case he wakes up, breath coming out in puffs of vapor, the temperature having dropped significantly since you were last outside. You try to open the back doors of Eddie’s van quietly, but it’s nearly impossible as the rust creaks and groans under the pressure. You settle on just one and struggle to haul your bike out, but you do it as quickly as you can, lip pulled between your teeth as the wheels bounce against the gravel driveway. You close the door as quietly as you opened it, which isn’t very, and you hop onto your bike, dashing away from the trailer under the cloak of night, your cheeks and nose freezing as you flee into the night. 

Eddie keeps his word. You never see him again. 

[spotsandsocks]

Fuck it Friday

Another throw back for Fuck it Friday tagged by the wonderfully lovely @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela cover art for this fic from the talented @ronordmann

Tagging the creative and marvellous talents of @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @loserdiaz @cowboy-buddie @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @elvensorceress @thewolvesof1998 @the-likesofus @like-the-rest-of-la @rogerzsteven @bekkachaos @jobairdxx @thekristen999 @stagefoureddiediaz @heartshapedvows @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @alyxmastershipper @spaceprincessem @canonicallyobserving911 @wildlife4life @princessfbi @housewifebuck @shortsighted-owl @buddierights @megsvstheworld if there is any art fics or edits to share

Like Lovers Do

Chim shrugs an apology as he makes a quick exit from the table and the situation he just created with a casual comment. Buck consoles himself with the fact that at least he looks a little sorry this time, not like the last time he dropped Buck in it over this particular mistake. 

The atmosphere around the table had taken a sharp left turn into awkward when Chimney had  jokingly referenced Buck’s brief and unfortunate liaison with the blonde currently laughing with Hen on the other side of the room. 

Buck silently curses as Eddie stares him down from the opposite side of the table.

Chim’s long gone, he abandoned the situation the second he realised Eddie hadn’t known about the kiss, so now Buck’s all alone with his best friend; usually he likes being alone with Eddie but this is definitely not his idea of a good time. 

Eddie’s looking at him with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised. It’s obvious he has questions about this new piece of information. Buck squirms under the scrutiny. He’d rather be anywhere else right now. 

In a cool voice the questioning starts; “You kissed Lucy? You never told me that.”

That’s true he hadn’t told him. Buck had kind of been hoping Eddie would never have to find out because he’s not proud of that particular moment. 

It was a mistake, such a huge mistake, one he preferred not to think about. He’d never cheated before, had always hated the concept and he knows he never would again. Buck had spent weeks trying to work out why he’d let it happen, why he’d kissed back, then kissed again. Even now he hates thinking about it although at least now he understands the why a bit more than he had then. 

Being back in therapy will do that. Over the last year, longer really  things had gotten pretty mixed up and dark in his head.  He’d hardly noticed the spiral downwards, it had been so slow and steady, it had just become normal for him to feel that way. He hadn’t noticed but Eddie had. 

He’d laugh if it was funny; as Eddie had worked through his issues and found his balance Buck had lost his, but Eddie had seen him, noticed what was happening and been there to steady him when he tripped and stumbled.

When things got really bad, the cumulative effects of so many parts of his life, Eddie had gently suggested Buck start talking to a therapist again. Eddie’s apparently a big fan of therapy these days. 

So he had and now he’s spent a fair number of hours talking about all the things that pull at his heart and twist his thoughts and some of those things definitely contributed to the moment that Eddie’s only just found out about. 

His best friend knows a lot about him but he doesn't know everything, god no, not everything. The kiss is only one of the things he’s been keeping to himself. 

Eddie’s still waiting for details and he doesn’t look very impressed with the delay. Unable to see an escape Buck plunges in with the truth.

“It, it was just a stupid thing I did.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, Buck knows what he’s doing and falls for it anyway, he fills the gap with more words, desperate to avoid the silence.

“I was just embarrassed to tell you, you know, because of all the stupid. It wasn’t like I was deliberately not, not telling you.”

It totally was.

“it just didn’t come up.” 

Eddie frowns “Why’d you do it?”

That’s a big question and the answer is more complicated than he wants to get into with the man opposite him. He goes with half an answer, half the truth, the parts that can safely be shared.

Avoiding Eddie’s eyes he explains the best he can “I was unhappy with Taylor.” 

He doesn’t add the rest - because I wasn’t in love with her, I was just clinging to an illusion. Taylor had been another mistake he made. He knows more about that choice as well now.

“and I was drunk” 

Eddie pulls a face, eyebrows shooting up even higher.

“Neither one is an excuse” he adds quickly “I know that.”

“When?”

He fudges that with “a while ago,” and a quieter,  “when you were at dispatch”.

That’s all he’s going to say because the rest of the answer he needs to keep to himself. Eddie can’t know about all of it. They can’t talk about that. 

Weeks of therapy have let Buck see what else played a part in his monumentally stupid decision that evening and he can hardly tell Eddie what he’s worked out. 

No - he can’t imagine a universe where he drops that particular bombshell on his friend.  As if he could just sit down next to Eddie and casually say, ‘hey, did you know I kissed Lucy once and guess what… I’ve worked out that I did it because I was miserable with Taylor and without you. I did it because you told me to move on and didn’t show up that night, because you left me behind and I didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

And the real kicker; his biggest secret, the root of the problem, the thing that they don’t (can’t?) talk about, the thing that laid the first stone in the path to his poor choices.

Well, how is he supposed to explain that, can he say ‘oh yeah and one more thing; you got shot in front of me and it changed me. I had your blood on my face, on my lips and I can still taste it. 

continue on AO3

[pizzaqueen]

38 for the spotify ficlet :)

This was “Johnny and Mary” by Robert Palmer

I guess I kind of cheated by having them listen to the song, but it was the only idea I came up with! XD

767 words / rated T / Could be read as pre-slash or established relationship

(Send me a number and I’ll write a fic!)

“What do you mean you don’t care about music?”

Steve shrugs. Maybe he should have expected this reaction from Eddie, but he wasn’t even thinking when he said it. It’s kind of funny to see Eddie riled up, though, so he’s glad he did. “Just what I said.”

“But you have to like music!”

“Of course I like music.” Steve folds his arms over his stomach. “I’m just not as into it as you are.”

“But… You have a favorite song, right? Or a favorite band?”

“I don’t know. I’ll listen to whatever.”

And, honest to god, Eddie looks crushed. And completely fucking baffled. Steve almost feels bad, but it’s cute. “I don’t…” Eddie Munson, at a loss for words—not something Steve thought he’d ever see. “But…”

Eddie looks around the room, and then his eyes light up. He tumbles off Steve’s bed and grabs one of the cassettes sitting on the dresser. He waves it around and says, “But you buy albums!”

“Yeah, you got me!” Steve holds up his hands. “I’ve been known to buy an album or two.”

“So, you do have favorite bands.”

Steve rubs his eyebrow. “I guess…” He huffs. “Why is me having a favorite band so important?”

“It just is.” Eddie starts stalking around the room, scanning this way and that.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you have something to play this on?”

“You wanna listen to Robert Palmer?”

“No.” Eddie’s face screws up and he looks at the cassette he’s holding, like he’s looking at it for the first time. He falters for a moment, then adds, “I want to listen to your favorite band. Singer, whatever.”

“He’s not…” Steve trails off. This is obviously important to Eddie, and Steve can admit that Eddie’s important to him, so he pushes himself off the bed and goes over to Eddie. “Gimme that.” He swipes the cassette and puts it in the player sitting on his desk. The opening of “Looking for Clues” starts, filling Steve’s room with drums and synth.

“Is this your favorite song?”

“Sure.”

“Steve.”

Steve sighs, leaning back against his desk. He wasn’t lying when he said he doesn’t care that much about music, but there’s something about Eddie wanting to listen to what Steve likes, to want to know about Steve—because that’s what this is really about—that makes Steve feel good. Important. Seen. So, he presses fast forward, stops, presses play too early, fast forwards again until he gets to “Johnny and Mary”.

Eddie raises his brows expectantly, perched on the end of Steve’s bed.

“Yeah, this is my favorite song on this album.” And that’s not a lie either. It’s been a while since he listened to this album, but he always liked this song.

“What do you like about it?”

“If I knew there was going to be a quiz, I wouldn’t have put this on.” Steve shakes his head and says, “I guess I like the beat. You know…” He imitates the rhythm of the song with a string of do-do-do’s.

Eddie nods.

“And it makes me feel…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s stupid.” Steve’s suddenly embarrassed, which isn’t something he feels around Eddie often.

“I wanna know.”

Steve presses his lips together. He looks at Eddie, who’s waiting mostly patiently for his answer, and says, “I guess it makes me feel kinda sad.”

“And you like that?”

“Told you it was stupid,” Steve murmurs.

“No way.” Eddie shakes his head. “It sounds like a pretty good reason to like a song to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean… I used to avoid some of the slower songs by bands I like. Like I never really got Sabbath’s Changes! But, now… Listening to it feels different.” A furrow appears in Eddie’s brow; he tilts his head. “It does make me feel kinda sad. And I like that.”

The way Eddie’s saying it, it’s like he’s only realizing it now. And it’s kind of cool to make Eddie realize something about himself.

“Huh.” Steve looks at Eddie, heart skipping a beat; he might not be as into music as Eddie is, but sharing this with him is nice. He feels closer to him. It’s good. And he hopes that this is what Eddie wanted. He thinks it is.

“You know,” Steve says, “we’ve talked through most of the song. Wanna start it again?”

Eddie makes a face and Steve bites back a laugh—it might feel nice to share it, but he honestly, really doesn’t give a shit if Eddie likes the same songs he does—but Eddie nods, so Steve starts the song over.

[certifiedtrashmouth]

#27 for your Spotify list 🤠

TRACK 27 - ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by del water gap (eddie munson x fem!reader, steve harrington x fem!reader mention)

a/n: alright. let’s spice this up. please be kind i don’t write smut often unless i feel so inclined lol 

warnings: angst, cheating, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v, implied unprotected as there’s no mention of protection). Aka… mdni. :)

“and it may not mean much to you - but your plates are in his sink, your sweater’s on his bed. won’t you text me when you’re home? my baby, spare me all the rest.”

You’re not his to keep. He knows this, you know this - it doesn’t stop whatever’s happening between the two of you. 

Eddie Munson had been your best friend since freshman year. The two of you were always a package deal; when you joined the theater club, Eddie joined the theater club. When Eddie started Hellfire Club, you were his co-founding member. When you volunteered to help decorate for the Spring Fling dance in ‘84, Eddie was begrudgingly by your side. When Eddie was invited to deal at parties, you were there in the shadows keeping him company. 

Wherever one went, the other followed.

All of the relationships you had gone through had simply had to deal with it. It was a deal-breaker. Either they accepted that Eddie was a permanent fixture in your life, or they could get lost. And it was always fine, because he was the harmless best friend. Sure, he was a bit flirtier than necessary. And sure, his touches lingered longer than necessary. But he was your best friend - nothing more, nothing less, and surely nothing to worry about. 

Steve Harrington had been surprisingly accepting of this. That had been his first mistake.

His second was not paying closer attention.

Because maybe, if he had a more watchful eye on you, if he had seen the signs, you wouldn’t be in bed with your best friend right now. 

“Fuck,” you sigh as Eddie places open-mouthed kisses down your neck and over your collarbones, “Please.” 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs as his mouth begins to travel carefully over your breasts. He’s taking his time, stopping and sucking harsh marks sporadically. You have no clue how you’ll explain the blooming bruises to Steve - that is, of course, if he even notices them before they begin to fade. 

You’re only here because lately, Steve hadn’t been paying attention to you. He’d gotten too busy, he’d grown too comfortable. You had been slipping right through his fingers for quite some time now, and he hadn’t even noticed. 

When Eddie bites down on one of your nipples, you gasp, your hands reaching up and threading through the curls at the base of his neck. He’s quick to lathe his tongue over it, soothing the sting he’d created and earning a pitiful whine from you. Your back is arching, aching for more. 

His hands are quick to find your hips, harshly pinning your body down into his mattress to prevent any more wiggling as he continues his way down your body. He has it memorized at this point - every curve, every dip, every scar. He’d had the last four months to grow intimate with the crevices. 

You’ve only been dating Steve for a year. For a third of the relationship, you’ve come to Eddie for solace. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he praises as his lips graze over your navel, “So beautiful. And all mine. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

You can barely muster out a response of, “All yours.” 

For a brief moment in time, it’s true. When you’re here, underneath him and in his sheets, you are Eddie’s. He doesn’t have to beg and barter for pieces of you shared with Steve. Every time you show up at his trailer late at night, that look in your eyes, he knows that you’re going to belong to him and only him for the next several hours. It doesn’t matter that you’ll be going back home to Steve at the end of it. The two of you don’t think that far ahead in times like these.

He finally stops teasing you as he settles between your thighs, sitting a knee comfortably over each of his shoulders. Some nights, he would take his time with it. He’d nip and whisper kisses along your inner thighs until you were a wrecked mess, begging and pleading with him to end his torture of teasing. He’d take his time stripping you of your panties, puckering his lips and blowing cool air over your center until you were spasming beneath his fingertips. 

Tonight is not one of those nights. 

He dives right in, quick to latch his lips around your clit once he’s pushed your panties to the side. You weren’t expecting the sudden sensation, hips bucking without your consent as a moan leaves your lips. The sound is so pretty, it drives him insane. It urges him on. 

His mouth becomes a mess as he laps at you, spit and your wetness drips down his chin as he keeps an arm draped over your hips to keep you as still as possible. But you still writhe beneath him with every flick of his tongue. You’re still coming completely apart beneath him, and you both know it’s only because of him. Not Steve. But Eddie. 

“Just like that,” you whine, hands fisting his sheets so tightly that your knuckles have gone ghostly white, “Fuck, right there.” 

When you reach up to throw an arm across your mouth, trying to muffle some of the curses and gasps spilling from your throat, he pauses. 

“Nuh uh,” he insists, bringing his free hand up to tug your arm down, “Let me hear those pretty sounds, baby. I want to hear you.” 

With those big brown eyes looking up at you, it’s impossible to not listen. Your hand finds home in his curls again and the filth spills out into the otherwise silent air of his room. 

“Oh my God, Eddie. Fuck. F-Fuck, please. So good, so good.” 

He brings a finger to your entrance, circling it around to get it wet before he presses it in. You’re hardly awarded a moment to adjust before he’s adding a second, curling them until the pads of his fingers have found the spot that makes your toes curl. It’s a place within you he’s familiar with - he’s unraveled you countless times in his bed, fingers curled into that very spot, whispering every dirty thought that came to mind into your ears night after night. 

“I’m close,” you warn when you feel the knot building in your lower stomach, thighs instinctively squeezing around his head. If you weren’t so out of your mind, you’d be worried about suffocating him, but neither of you particularly care at this moment. To die here, between your legs with his fingers buried in your cunt, would be a heavenly way to die in Eddie Munson’s humble opinion.

But the moment he feels your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers, he’s quick to pull away, making you gasp before sighing out in frustration. 

“What the hell, Eddie?” you begin to lift yourself up onto your elbows to look down at the frazzled boy going down on you, but he’s already lifting himself up along your body as he sucks his fingers clean, grin wild before he’s hovering over you. 

“Aw, sweetheart, you didn’t think I was going to let you cum without me inside you, did you?” he teases gently. 

You don’t reply, instead wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as you pull his swollen lips to yours. Somewhere between the rough and desperate kisses, you find yourselves kicking your underwear off. Your panties are wrangled down to your ankles before being kicked somewhere off onto his floor, and his boxers are quick to follow. The moment the last few articles of clothing have been discarded, you’re lifting your hips against his in anticipation. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as his cock begins to slide between your folds, “Who’s got you all hot and bothered like this, huh?” 

“You,” you whimper, “It’s you.”

“Me? You sure? Not Steve, your loving boyfriend, but me, sweetheart?” 

When you don’t respond, he reaches down between the two of you, pumping himself a few times before he guides himself properly through your slick. His head bumps your clit, and you let out another whine.

“Tell me that nobody else touches you like I do.” 

“Nobody,” your hips thrust up again, growing further impatient and trying to end the suspense, “Nobody else. Only you. Only ever you, Eddie.” 

He finally gives in, letting his hips roll forward slowly as you stretch around him. It takes you a moment to adjust to his girth, but the few seconds are immediate heaven for both of you. His eyes roll back just as he catches the whites of your own eyes. 

He knows it’s just words. Empty promises.

But as he thrusts into you, hips snapping to meet yours repeatedly, leaving you a blubbering mess, it’s an unspoken agreement that playing pretend works for now. Each time he pulls backwards, nearly completely falling out of you, only to surge back forward and bottom out once more, neither of you care about the little white lies. 

He knows that when it ends, you’ll go home to Steve, and he’ll resume the role of the harmless best friend. He knows that Steve will continue to live in the bubble that he’s the only one that has laid hands on his girlfriend, that has seen you like this. He knows the fantasy will resume as if you’d only ever called out Steve’s name as hot pleasure rolls through you, making you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, as if you’d never chanted Eddie’s name like a prayer. 

But for right now, it’s only him. It’s only Eddie who touches you like this, and it’s only Eddie who can completely unravel you, reducing you to a teary-eyed mess of mascara and smeared lipstick. 

Only Eddie who touches you like this.

Maybe one day Steve will keep a closer eye on his girlfriend, but Eddie is thankful that today’s not that day.

[hwknshellfire]

jason doesn't know - eddie munson x reader

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

summary: you're seeing eddie behind jason's back and he doesn't know. yet (based on scotty doesn't know)

length: 3.1k (i got really into this omg)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI! repeated mentions of cheating, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), lots of sex references, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs, cursing

a.n: seriously guys this whole thing is about cheating so be warned, lots of angst, smut, pining and fluff though. also i dont think jason is this much of an asshole irl but this is just for plot. and i highly recommend listening to scotty doesn't know by lustra for this! (set during ep 1 of s4 - the hellfire club)

Scotty doesn't know that Fiona and me do it in my van every Sunday//She tells him she's in church but she doesn't go//Still she's on her knees and Scotty doesn't know…

This was the third week in a row you’d been late to meet Jason. It was Sunday and he had just finished basketball practice with his friends ready for the upcoming game. It had happened slowly. You started forgetting what time you were meant to meet up, or showing up looking thoroughly dishevelled which pissed Jason off to no end. Now, you’d simply not shown up.

He glances around the empty parking lot of school, his friends shrugging at him when he asks, “Has anyone seen Y/N?”

“I dunno, man,” one of them says noncommittally. “It’s Sunday, maybe she’s in church?”

Jason hums. Your family were religious, that was true. And sometimes you tagged along to keep up appearances, but he knew you didn’t really enjoy it too much. But you did it for your family, because you loved them. So maybe you did just forget about today and went with them to church instead. Jason chooses to believe that and decides to catch up with you tomorrow at school. He knows there’ll be a rational explanation.

You pant, breathless, as Eddie removes his fingers from your aching core. His brown eyes are blown wide with longing and he grinned at how fucked out you look already. “That good, huh?” he teases you and you roll your eyes, sitting up in the back of his van.

This was common practice. You knew it was wrong, cheating on Jason, but it had happened accidentally. You’d bumped into Eddie at a party where he was dealing and Jason was off talking to some girl or doing a keg stand. You’d been bored out of your mind, waiting for Jason to pay some attention to you, when you had physically fallen for Eddie Munson. Well, into, but he still made the joke, smiling at you earnestly. In truth, he’d had a crush on you for years and the way you looked in those high waisted shorts and tank top that left little to the imagination, well—it was only a matter of time before he was leading you out to his van.

Where you met up every Sunday when you told Jason you’d be in church.

“Your turn,” you say to Eddie, nudging his legs until he’s sat up, you on your knees in front of him.

“Lucky me,” he sighs, watching you contentedly. You were his dream girl and he couldn’t believe his luck. Still, you had asked him to keep it quiet until school ended and you could end things with Jason without him being too much of an asshole. He was leaving for college, you were staying here. You could cut ties with him forever and keep Eddie safe from the basketball idiots Jason hung around with.

But neither of you could keep your hands of each other. It was a different kind of love to what you had once felt with Jason. When you first met, Jason made you feel like you were in a fairytale, showering you with gifts and taking you out everywhere, showing you off to the world. But then it turned sour and you realised you were more like a trophy than supposedly the love of his life. He didn’t listen to what you had to say, expecting you to sit back and be a good little house wife.

And Eddie was the opposite. He was entranced by the way you could speak for hours about a topic that interested you. He made you feel like the only person in the world that mattered, making sure you were okay above all else. He wanted to keep you safe, but never once in a possessive way. And the sex—

“Yeah,” you smirk. “Lucky you.”

He groans as you tie your hair up the way he likes, knowing he’ll be holding onto it soon. His eyes roll into the back of his head as you start to blow him, knowing all the ways to make him squirm until he’s forcing your head down and making you gag. This was the only place, in the confines of his van (or sometimes your bedroom and his trailer) that he could be in charge. And you would let him, enjoying every single second of Eddie making you his.

You just wish you could shout it to the whole of Hawkins.

Fiona says she's out shopping//But she's under me and I'm not stopping…

“How long does it take to shop?” Jason mutters, checking his watch. He was with his friends (again) and the film was starting in ten minutes. He’d arranged a big date between the team and their girlfriends, expecting you to be there as Hawkins High’s It Couple. You’d agreed immediately and called him this morning telling him that he didn’t need to pick you up since you were going shopping with Robin to find an outfit that would make everyone jealous that you two were together. You’d meet him at the theatre.

Yet here he was, waiting and watching his friends with their girlfriends file into the cinema to take their seats and he’s left waiting by the doors. He glances around. It’s dark—maybe you got lost? You didn’t drive, claiming that you preferred it when Jason drove you around and he loved it too, so maybe you took a wrong turn in the dark. But then your mom normally drives you when he’s not around—so where were you?

Five minutes to the movie. If he doesn’t go now, he’ll miss the movie. He shakes his head, not even thinking for a minute that you were somewhere else, with someone else. He just chalks it down to you being forgetful or busy. Lately, you’d been spending a lot of your time studying or daydreaming, your mind elsewhere. Your finals were coming up and you were preoccupied. He got that. He just wish it didn’t look so bad on him when you stand him up.

He walks into the theatre alone.

Your fingernails scratch down Eddie’s back and his eyelids flutter closed at the sensation of it as he pounds into you. His pick necklace falls onto your bare chest and he loves the sight of it, the sight of you naked underneath him, writhing in pleasure.

“God, princess, you’re gonna make me cum just looking this pretty,” he moans into your neck as he peppers you with kisses.

“Eddie,” you breathe, butterflies fluttering in your stomach—from the compliment or the way his cock was repeatedly slamming in and out of you, you don’t know. Either way, you know that this feeling here, this pure bliss, is the only way you want to feel for the rest of your life. You could happily spend all your days sharing a joint with Eddie and going at it all day long.

And it’s not just about the sex. It’s him in general that you love. Some days you just come over to his trailer to hang out and watch a movie together. You could never watch a horror movie with Jason, but Eddie loves them and insists on showing you all the cult classics that he’s adamant you’ll love too. He lays in bed with you in his arms sometimes and reads to you, Stephen King or Tolkien or even just his newest D&D campaign, wanting your approval.

For five weeks, you’ve been keeping this part of yourself a secret from everybody. Robin was the only person who knew (and probably Steve, by extension) and she covered for you when you asked, without question. She knew the difficult position you were in. Robin didn’t judge—she was in between a rock and a hard place herself.

But all of you just wants to be free now, to spend your time with Eddie without guilt gnawing at you.

“Hey, princess,” Eddie’s voices brings you back to the moment. You blink and smile up at him. He’s stopped moving, concern written all over his face. “You alright, baby?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Perfect, Eds,” you tell him honestly, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in even deeper causing you both to groan. “Just fuck me. Please?”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

I can't believe he's so trusting//While I'm right behind you thrusting…

You cancel your date, telling Jason you had to help out your friend Steve at work. You were at Family Video, alright, only in the stockroom, with Eddie fucking you from behind, his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet. Thank god for friends like Robin, you had thought as she ushered you into the back without her manager knowing.

Fiona's got him on the phone//And she's trying not to moan//It's a three-way call and he knows nothing…

“That sounds g-great, babe!” you tell Jason down the phone enthusiastically. “I’m so happy for you.”

He’d called you when he knew you’d be home from school, telling you all about practice today. You knew he was waiting for an invitation over, but…

Eddie’s head was between your thighs, occasionally grinning at you as you bit your lip to stop from moaning. He was palming himself through his jeans at how risky this was, going down on you while you were on the phone to your boyfriend. But he couldn’t help teasing you and you sure seem to be loving it as he feels you clench around his fingers. Instead of hanging up, you keep the game going, loving it as much as Eddie is.

But god, this was dangerous.

The parkin' lot, why not? It's so cool when you're on top…

You grind down into Eddie’s lap, your fingers tangled in his hair. His lips are so soft and you just want to feel them all over you—your mouth, your jaw, your neck, your chest. You can’t get enough of him. And in the two months you’ve been seeing Eddie, the game has become riskier. Hellfire Club finally knew and you’d sworn them all to secrecy at the end of tonight’s meeting—choosing tactfully to keep Lucas in the dark. You couldn’t risk him telling Jason. Not yet.

It was almost Spring Break. Maybe you’d move your schedule up a bit and tell him then. By summer, you and Eddie would be free.

But for now, it was this. It was riding him in his van in the parking lot, knowing that Jason was around for basketball. But Eddie had been so animated in Hellfire that you couldn’t wait until you guys were home—you had to have him there and then. And he certainly wasn’t complaining as he came hard inside of you, loving the filthy idea of his cum being inside Jason Carver’s girlfriend. Because you weren’t Jason’s at all—you were his.

I did her on his birthday…

Jason threw a huge party for his birthday, inviting the whole school.

“Please come, Eddie!” you begged, turning over in his bed to look at him. He was gorgeous in every way. His eyes were huge and emotive, his hair was wild and soft. He made you feel safe, especially in moments like this when you both napped off the hot spring in his bed together after helping him study for a test. Jason was all muscle and hard edges and clean cut. Eddie was raw and real and he knew you more than you could ever expected.

“I don’t know, princess,” Eddie says warily. “You sure you wanna be around me and the freaks on pretty boy’s birthday?”

You roll your eyes. “Eds, it’ll be like the first party when we hooked up. He’ll be busy with the boys and the girls, and I’ll be able to sneak you into the bathroom and make hot, wild love to you.” You smile at him innocently.

He coughs, laughing lightly. “Fuck, sweetheart, you can’t say shit like that. Gonna make me fall in love with you.” More than I already have, he thinks.

“Well, if you come, maybe I’ll fall in love with you.” More than I already have, you think.

It takes him a second and then he concedes, “Fine. But I’m gonna sell while I’m there.”

You snort, a sound he loves. “Fine by me.”

And you’d kept your promise, your legs wrapped around Eddie as he lifted you up against the bathroom wall, taking you hard and fast with only the loud music of Madonna to cover your desperate pants and moans as you came together.

Scotty will know//Scotty doesn't know//Scotty's gotta know…

You stay at Jason’s that night, lying beside him. He passed out immediately, nowhere near sober enough to even try anything with you, which you were grateful for. You lay awake, watching him sleep. He has a lipstick mark on his shirt and you wonder which girl gave him that. Was it innocent? You bet it was Chrissy Cunningham. You knew he’d had a crush on her before deciding he wanted you instead.

Good, you think. Maybe when you finally leave him, he can find solace in her. Maybe find someone who can love him like you can’t. The way you love Eddie.

I'm gonna tell Scotty Gonna tell him myself.

It takes three months for you to finally tell Jason.

It’s a school day and Eddie had kept you up all night with good weed and good music and now you were a zombie. It was the championship game tonight and you were expected to be there, to support Jason. But Eddie had told you all about the end of his ‘Cult of Vecna’ campaign and you wanted nothing more than to tag along and watch the whole thing.

Your leg bounces beneath the table, anxious. It’s too much now. You can’t hold it in. The secret is slowly killing you, keeping you from sleeping, from breathing. You can’t do it anymore. And you know it’s not fair on Jason, bad as your relationship is.

“What is that freak up to now?” Jason mutters as he sets down his lunch tray. You look up, your eyes falling on Eddie climbing onto his table across the cafeteria. Oh, god.

“Probably nothing,” you say causally. “Tell me about the game plan.”

You try to distract Jason from Eddie, but it doesn’t work as Eddie shouts, “But as long as you're into band or science or—” he sneers “—parties. Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!” His eyes fall onto your table, where Jason stands up ready to fight. He watches you bite your lip, worried for him and his heart throbs. God, he loves you so much. He just needs you to leave that asshole and you could be his, officially.

Jason catches you watching him and his girlfriend. “You want something freak?”

Y/N, he almost says. He catches himself, your eyes wide, and he pulls a face at Jason instead, turning around so he can’t see him anymore. Anything to get that idiot of his head. Anything to stop him going over there and taking you in front of everyone.

Jason sits down and spits out, “What a freak, I feel like he just cursed me.” His friends all laugh, boosting Jason’s ego, but you press your lips together. Jason notices you not laughing and nudges you. “Y/N? I said he probably just cursed me.” He waits for you to laugh, but you don’t.

You swallow. “I don’t think it was that funny.” You say and you feel everyone’s eyes on you. Jason turns on the bench until he’s facing you.

“Y/N, what the hell?” Jason asks, his voice low. He doesn’t want to make a scene in front of his friends. To them, you have the perfect relationship. Top Jock and Good Girl, both from good families, both socially acceptable, both popular and attractive. Your eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who has no money, no big house in the suburbs, no perfect GPA, no popularity. Eddie who likes metal and horror and has a band and plays D&D. Eddie, who’s branded a freak for being different.

You suddenly feel like you can’t breath.

“Y/N? Jason presses. “What the hell is wrong with you lately?” You look up, his eyes meeting yours. So he’s noticed your absence, finally, it seems. And now he’s had enough. Well, so have you as he begins to lecture you. “You’re hardly around anymore, you don’t come to games, you show up looking like trash, you don’t listen to me at all. Who are you?”

“You know what,” you say, loud enough for people around the cafeteria to notice. You’re causing a scene now, good girl be damned. You’re not going to sit still and look pretty for Jason Carver anymore. “Fuck this.” You stand up from the table, swinging your bag onto your shoulder. From across the room, Eddie and his club look up. Now everyone’s attention is on you.

“What?” Jason stands up, eyes wide.

“Fuck this,” you repeat, taking a deep breath. “And fuck you, Jason.”

You move to walk past him but he grabs your arm and turns you back to face him. “Don’t do this to me, Y.N,” he says dangerously. He’s embarrassed and angry and you can feel it. If you sit down and apologise, everything will go back to normal. You can still save this relationship. “Don’t make me look bad.”

You laugh bitterly. “There is is,” you say, shaking your arm free of his grip. “I don’t care if you look bad.”

“I swear to fucking god, Y/N—” he begins but you wave an arm.

“Save it. You don’t wanna look bad? You don’t wanna be embarrassed?” Your voices raises and Eddie stands from his table slowly. Everyone is staring. Everyone is waiting, shocking. You look around and then finally at Jason again, pointing to Eddie at his table. “I’ve been fucking Eddie Munson behind your back for three months, Jason. And guess what—I love him. I love him, do you hear me? So you can get fucked.”

Several people gasped. Jason’s mouth fell open and his friends lose it. You don’t wait for Jason’s reaction as you turn your back on him for good and walk over to Eddie’s table. He grins at you and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Well, that was certainly dramatic,” he says by way of greeting, pulling a chair up so you can sit next to him.

“You should join Hellfire,” Dustin says immediately, impressed by your balls as you sit down.

You laugh. “Maybe that’s enough dramatics for the time being,” you say and the cafeteria falls back into its same old routine. Only now you don’t have to hide when Eddie’s hand finds yours on the table and squeezes three times, making your heart soar:

I love you.

masterlist // requests

[youmakemyhearthowl]

Punk Princess

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 (Next Part)

One of Steve’s favorite things to do on the weekends is what El has deemed “Punk Princess” time. 

Hopper works a lot as the Chief of police, so Steve and El have had plenty of time to figure out what exactly they like to do together and how to make things fun. And it’s not like Hopper is an absent father for El by any means, but after everything that happened with El going missing when she went to look for her mom, Steve did get a little firm with Hopper about being more present in his daughter's life. Because being a parent isn’t something you can call yourself in name only. You have to be there for your kid. Love them, notice when they go missing. 

Steve had been beside himself when he’d gotten home from school and she wasn’t there, trying to get ahold of Hopper and getting no answer. He was frankly a mess that she’d gone missing and apparently so had Hop, and then the Billy of it all and tunnels happened and El had shown back up and Steve had just scooped her up into his arms burying his face in her neck to hide the tears. 

When the evening was done, and Steve was laid up on the couch so Hop could keep a better eye on him through the concussion, Steve had laid into him. Hopper hadn’t even gotten angry at Steve for the harsh words he threw at him at the time. Simply pulling an angry, crying Steve to his chest and hugging him stating “You’re right kid, I’ll do better” 

But sometimes Hopper still has to work those long weekend hours and that’s when it was Steve and El’s ‘Punk Princess’ time. 

She’d originally coined the name as ‘Bitchin Punk time’ but after she heard Eddie call Steve Princess one time, she got stuck on calling it ‘Punk Princess time’ and the rest was history. 

The day usually consists of El scouring half of Steve’s wardrobe for exactly what she wants to wear, topping it off with the jacket her sister Kali gave her, before asking Steve to do her hair and make up to make her look Bitchin’ and then wrestling Steve into whatever outfit she picks for him and doing his makeup for him in turn. 

Steve fucking cherishes these moments. 

They usually spend the afternoon with El making demands for Steve to play whatever song she wants to hear on his guitar and to sing for her, holding concerts till their throats hurt. 

And Steve teaches El how to fight. 

He’s not an expert in it by any means and he started off teaching her some of the basics Cam had taught him over the summer, before incorporating more as he learned it in his own jujitsu classes he had started taking. 

El was way too good at fighting, although Steve’s pretty sure she cheats, using her powers sometimes to enhance a move. But he’s never going to tell her to stop. 

Usually when she does though he always makes sure to offer up some advice he thinks could be important one day.

“Knowing how to do this and incorporate it with your powers is wonderful, it’s a great way to learn new kinds of control over it, but you have to practice it without them too, just as you, no super powers. Because you never know if somethings going to happen where you don’t have access to them, but you’re still going to need to protect yourself.” she always gets her super serious face on when he offers her advice, nodding along and absorbing it like a sponge. 

This weekend Steve changes up their routine a bit. 

“Hey bug, how do you feel about a shopping trip?” Els's entire face lights up. “ I figured after we get all dresses and punked out, we can head out to the diner for breakfast, and then go to the Mall in the next town over since the one here isn’t open yet, get you some clothes that feel more like you.” She’s absolutely beaming at him, and Steve would quite literally do anything to get her to smile like that all the time

“Dad says I’m not supposed to go out too much though.” 

“Eh, Hops a grumpy old man. He’s done worse than sneaking out to go shopping when he was closer to our age. Besides, you’re gonna look so bitchin’ no one’s gonna notice that you're Eleven. They’re just gonna think you're a super awesome Punk Princess.” She giggles 

“Would it be okay if Max comes?” 

“Hell yea Bug, give her a call while I hop in the shower and we can get this show on the road.” 

Sometimes Steve feels bad, that he spends so much of his free time with El, and not a ton of it with Dustin, Lucas and Mike and even Max, and he brought it up to Dustin once, asking him if there was anything he could do to be better towards them as well and Dustin had just laughed his fully belly laugh and hugged Steve, stating simply and matter of factly ‘ Steve you literally dedicated all your time to all of us, you live with El, you’re bound to feel like you see her more. But trust me when I tell you, you do more than enough for all of us and we love you for it, even if you couldn’t spend as much time with us. You do just about everything for us and even though you complain way too loudly about it when you do, we know what we mean to you. Just like you know what you mean to us.” and that was that. Steve did notice for a while after that, the rest of the party would show up randomly at his house to spend time with him now. It felt like it was more for him then for them, but he really wasn’t about to start complaining because those kids meant the world to him.

As Steve busies himself putting on the clothes El left for him outside the bathroom door, his mind wanders to Eddie. 

Eddie who spent practically the entirety of Friday doting on Steve between classes and during free period. It’s like after their talk a whole new door had opened and made whatever they had before that much stronger. It was hard for him that entire day to not just kiss Eddie every chance he got. But they weren’t even dating and whatever long game they were playing didn’t currently include kissing, except for the wrist and jaw. 

God Steve’s entire body gets warm every time Eddie places a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist, the raw intimacy of it, attached to the promise behind it has him practically swooning every time it happens.

“Steve, you are taking to long, I have the makeup ready.” El’s voice calls through the door and he chuckles to himself, looking over the outfit she’d picked out for him. He’s wearing tight black pants, that are probably too small for him, but hug him nicely in the legs, making it easier to pull on and wear the thigh harnesses she’d also chosen, which means she's probably wearing the matching ones he’d bought her last week. She’d chosen his lavender sweater with the black hearts on it for him to wear under his jacket and vest as well as a choker with spikes on it.

He really should have her just pick out his outfits for him everyday. The entire ensemble was honestly one of the better outfits he’s worn.

“Alright alright, how do I look?” He smiles twirling around for her to take in the whole outfit.

“Bitchin’”

“You’re damn right. And look at you! You were made to dress punk El, that jacket with those cargo pants? I don’t know how you do it but you come up with the coolest outfits, Bug.” She preens under the complement, patting the stool in front of her for him to get situated so she can start applying his makeup. He’s settling in just as Max bounds through the front door, plopping down on the couch next to El to examine the makeup laying around her on the coffee table. 

“This is gonna be so fun.” Max’s snickers picking up one of the brushes, El smiles at her, handing her the lavender eyeshadow palette and telling her to wait until El’s finished the eyeliner to smoke it around his eyes. He smiles at them, warmth tickling his lungs at the fact that El just gets to be a kid in moments like these. He hopes he can hang onto them and give her more. Be everything for her he never got growing up. 

After his makeups done and he does El’s and her slicked back hair look she loves, he adds a softer look to Max that still keeps her feeling bad ass and their off. Stopping at the diner to grab their breakfast to go because the trip to the Mall is about an hour drive and they are bound and determined to get there as soon as possible. 

Steve smiles softly at their quiet giggles in the back seat as they eat, drinking his coffee and humming along to Iron Maiden. He’d pulled Max to the side when El had run into the diner to go to the bathroom and enlisted her on his mission to make this the best outing they could, so that El could experience life as a 14 year old girl like she was meant to, and Max had lit up and explained that any Mall outing needed a movie montage worthy clothing extravaganza, and Steve wholeheartedly agreed. 

Steve had not been prepared at how much energy Max and El would have as they ran through the mall. Stopping at every store and trying on at least one thing in each one. Steve's wallet was crying at how much he’d bought both girls, but the thankful way they’d thrown their arms around him more then made up for it. 

“Steve, Steve can we get Ice cream before we leave?” El comes running up to him, having changed into one of her new jumpers she’d bought with a flurry of colorful butterflies on it. She’s not even waiting for an answer before both her and Max have ahold of each of his hands and is dragging him to Scoops Ahoy and ordering the most obnoxious sounding banana boat. He really hopes they don’t open one of these in the mall being built in Hawkins. The whole thing is just tacky .

Over all, Steve thinks the day was a massive success, Max and El still bouncing around the house when they get home. Going on and on about everything they’ve seen that day. Steve’s laying on the couch where he collapsed when he got home and didn’t move from when he hears Max laugh so loud she snorts and the girls come running into the living room.

“This is what you used to look like?” Max asks through wheezes. Holding up a polaroid of Steve from his freshman year Tommy had taken. He’s got a god awful gray polo that was a size to big on, and his hairs parted down the middle in an attempt to look suave, the photo taken about two days before he’s figured out the signature King Steve hair floof he’d done every day after. 

“Yuck it up Mayfield. Ladies dug the look.” She snorts loudly, flipping the photo around to look at it again.

“This look? Ladies dug this look? Steve, you look like a square!” She’s yelling in her laughter and not for the first time that day Steve's heart swells with happiness at El’s equally loud laughter next to her best friend. 

“If I was any shape it was a hexagon cause I was sexy Mayfield. You’re just jealous of all my swag.” 

“Swag!” She yells the word before falling over into El, clutching her stomach and wheezing through her laughter, El giggling happily while leaning back into her.

Yea the day was definitely a success. 

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 (Next Part)

[ladydorian05]

A Home for Broken Hearts ~ Chapter 6

Co-written with and headder by @made-ofmemories

So... I took an involuntarly break, by this I mean that I just couldn't bring myself to proof read for the tenth time and actually post the chapter until today.

Anyways, sorry for the wait.

Masterpost

AO3

Chapter 6: In shades of grey with specks of light

“We should get back to work,” Eddie lets out a child-like whine at Steve’s suggestion. 

They’re lounging on the couch they bought at the antique store the previous weekend. Steve is sitting with his legs sprawled, if Robin were here she’d no doubt chastise him for ‘man-spreading’. Eddie, on the other hand, is pressed into the corner with both of his legs draped over one of Steve’s thighs. Steve’s hand rests on Eddie’s leg, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns against the bare skin of his knee. He’s starting to wonder if Eddie owns a single pair of pants without holes in them, if he does he’s sure he’s never seen them.

“We’ve been working all morning,” Eddie complains, “Plus, my bar means my rules and I say we deserve a longer break.”

Eddie lets his head roll to the side, resting against his shoulder as he looks away from his phone and over to Steve with a pout and honestly, how is he ever meant to argue when Eddie is looking at him like that?

“Alright, fine you win,” Steve says, not putting up much of a fight and settling into his seat. He didn’t really want to move anyway.

The place was starting to come together, it was almost unrecognizable from the construction site Steve had walked in on that first night Eddie had brought him here. Most of the heavy construction work is done, Eddie is hoping they can get whatever is left done without the need for contractors so the place has been quieter than usual for the past few days. Currently it’s just Eddie and Steve, Chrissy and Robin having announced they were going to grab some coffee a few minutes ago.

“Hey look.” Eddie turns his phone towards Steve, dragging him from his thoughts. It’s an instagram page, the instagram page for the ‘broken hearts gallery’ to be precise, “10,000 followers.”

“Holy shit.” 

“Yeah holy shit,” He has his nose buried in his phone again as he resumes scrolling, “And to think it all started with a scrunchie.”

“She texted me, you know.” That grabs Eddie’s attention, phone locked and dropped onto his chest as his focus shifts to Steve, “Heidi, I mean,” He clarifies.

“What did she want?”

“She broke up with Mr. McDreamy, again.” 

“Oh.” Eddie’s face drops and a conflicted expression takes over his features, as if he’s trying to appear unbothered but can’t quite hide the disappointment.

“I blocked her number.” Eddie’s features relax again, “The way she spoke to me that day in the bookstore… it kind of reminded me of my mom. I don’t know how I never saw it before.”

“That’s…”

“Pathetic?”

“Not the word I was looking for.” Eddie gives him a soft smile, “I don’t think you’re pathetic. I do think your mom sounds like an asshole though, no offense.”

Steve huffs a laugh, always straight to the point.

“None taken, but if you think that’s bad wait until you hear about my dad.”

“Ah parental trauma, we’re getting into the real shit now,” Eddie says, tone lighter than the subject matter would suggest, “Tell me about them.”

“They weren’t really around much for most of my childhood or teenage years, business trips mostly. My dad was a cheating asshole and  my mom didn’t trust him enough to let him go anywhere on his own. I don’t know why she put up with him honestly.” 

He remembers feeling so lonely more than anything. Something all the nannies when he was a little kid and parties he’d throw as a teenager could never fill, “He wanted me to run the family business. I never wanted that, I didn’t know what I wanted at that point but I knew I wanted to do something that made me happy instead of following their expectations. My highschool grades were average at best and the thought of me attending community college, well, they didn’t like that very much either. They kicked me out in the end.”

He doesn’t talk about his parents much, never feels the need to. Aside from Robin there’s only a handful of people who even know anything beyond the fact he no longer has contact with them. But he trusts Eddie and sharing these things feels so natural.

“I’m glad you didn’t listen to them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You deserve to be happy.” The sentiment makes his heart swell. For all his goofing around and occasionally brash personality, Eddie had a sweeter side that Steve was starting to notice would creep to the surface every now and again. He liked it.

“They’re kind of the reason I started collecting stuff. We had this huge house, but it always felt so empty,” The words flow out like water from a tap and Steve doesn’t think he could do much to stop them even if he tried. 

He takes a glance at Eddie, wondering if he’s still paying attention. He’s leaning forward, twisting one of his chunky rings around his finger, and hanging off Steve’s every word.

“There were never any photos, or knick-knacks, or little mementos from family vacations. It felt like living in a show house. So, I started collecting things from people I cared about and then when I got older, relationships. I Kept them hidden in a box under my bed because I knew my dad would make me throw them out if he found them.”

Eddie is looking right at him with that intense gaze of his. Steve has been on the receiving end of that particular look an increasing amount lately, the kind that makes him feel as though Eddie is staring right into the depths of his soul. It still makes him want to squirm just as much as the first time, though it’s not an entirely unpleasant sensation.

“And here we all thought you were just some crazy hoarder,” Eddie jokes, breaking the tension in the air.

“Well, Robin says I have attachment issues, so.” Steve snorts. “What are your parents like?” He’s cautious, not wanting to push despite his curiosity. He knows Eddie lived with his uncle for a while and he’s never mentioned his parents so he isn’t expecting a happy story.

“My mom died when I was a kid. My dad, well, while all the other dads were teaching their kids how to play baseball he was teaching me to hotwire cars and pick locks.” He chuckles dryly, no amusement behind it, “He’s in jail now. Shocker.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been with Wayne since I was 11, he’s my real family.” He shrugs with a smile, the same fond smile he always has when he talks about his uncle.

“I get it. I have someone- well several someones- like that too.”

“The kids?”

Steve nods, “Partly, remember El and Will?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Will has an older brother, Jonathan. We weren’t close at the time, it’s uh, a long story.” Understatement of the century, “But, he found out about my parents kicking me out and it turned out he’s a better person than I ever gave him credit for. He convinced his parents to take me in for a while. They helped me out until me and Robs could get a place of our own. They’re better parents to me than my biological ones ever were.”

He shifts in his seat, careful not to jostle Eddie too much. The weight of his legs over his is nice, grounding almost.

“Whoever said you can’t choose your family was a liar.” 

Steve hums in agreement. The kids, Joyce, Hopper and hell, even Jonathad had been the ones to fill his monotonous gray life with light.

He should call Joyce, it’s been a while since he heard her voice, Hopper’s too. A pang of guilt hits him at the thought, though he knows they’d never get mad at him for it. His gaze wanders along with his thoughts, lingering on the corner behind Eddie dedicated to all of Steve’s donations.

“Are you really not going to donate anything?” 

“Hmph?” 

“The gallery, are you going to make a donation?” Steve repeats as Eddie tucks his phone into his pocket, “You’re the only one left. I have, Chrissy has, even Robin has.” 

“I told you, I don’t really keep stuff from my relationships.” Eddie shrugs.

“I don’t believe you. You must have kept something.”

“Well, actually.” There’s a moment of realization and then a strange smirk appears on his face, one that screams pure mischief and Steve’s suddenly a little concerned about what he’s just let himself in for, “there is this one thing. ”

“I knew it!” Steve twists his body to better see Eddie, “Will you donate it?”

“Sure, I’ll bring it by later after you’ve picked up Dustin and Max from the airport.”

“Shit, what time is it?” They’d never let him live it down if he was late. He’d lost track of time after they decided to take their break, he has no idea how long they’ve been sitting there.

Eddie looks down to the watch on his wrist then back to Steve, “Nearly 12.”

Steve lets out a groan and worms his way out from under Eddie’s legs, “I gotta go.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” He says when he sees Eddie’s expression. He’s pretty sure Eddie would spend the entire day lounging on that couch with him if he could, Steve doesn’t think that would be such a bad way to spend a day either, “I won’t be long. I’ll bring Dustin and Max with me when I come back, okay?”

The airport is busy, even outside where Steve is waiting next to his parked car. It’s Max’s fiery red braids weaving through the crowds that he notices first, one hanging over each shoulder and a pair of sunglasses perched atop her head. 

“STEVE!” Dustin’s shout is the only warning he gets before he launches himself in Steve’s direction, tackling him with so much force he stumbles back a few steps, if it wasn’t for his back hitting the car Steve is sure they’d both be flat on their asses.

“Henderson!” Steve chuckles, wrapping one arm around him and using the other to scrub his knuckles across the top of his head which is protected by a cap, “How was your flight, kiddo?”

“The inflight entertainment system didn’t even have Star Wars, can you believe it? What is this?, The 80’s? There’s digital copies everywhere!” He sounds deeply offended, Max just rolls her eyes. It’s good to see that they haven’t changed.

Max steps up to give him a much calmer hug once Dustin has finally let him go. She looks tired when she pulls away, it’s not even 1pm but he has no doubt it’s already been a long day. Travelling has always taken its toll on her whether it was a car journey or a 4 hour flight, he can’t even begin to count how many times she had fallen asleep on the back seat of his car, head resting on Lucas’ shoulder.

They’ve both flown in from LA, their first stop before heading home to their parents for summer break. Max had been itching to get back to California ever since her shitty step father had moved them halfway across the country when she was barely a teen. She’d gotten into UCLA majoring in marine biology and hadn’t looked back since. Dustin made it into Caltech, an offer he couldn’t refuse. 

Steve had never been prouder, of all of them, but it had hurt seeing all of his kids scattered across the country. He and Robin had moved to Chicago shortly after, there was nothing left for either of them in their small hometown once the kids were gone.

“Alright, come on shit-heads help me with this stuff we need to get going.” He pops open the trunk and throws in one of the duffle bags from the small pile of luggage that has been dumped on the tarmac. 

He isn’t sure who the bag belongs to until Dustin screeches, “Hey be careful with that!”

“Well come help me then!”

The apartment is empty when they get there to drop off Dustin and Max’s belongings. Dustin will be sleeping in Steve’s room and Robin is sharing her room with Max. Steve had drawn the short straw and ended up agreeing to crash on the couch for the week, not wanting to deal with Dustin's snoring, he’s sure his back won’t thank him for it- Christ, he’s getting old.

“Where’s Robin?” Max calls from her room.

“She’s probably still at Hellfire. She left to get coffee with Chrissy before I went to pick you guys up,” Steve calls back from his room where he’s dumping one of Dustin’s bags onto the bed, apparently not carefully enough judging by the wide eyed ‘really?’ expression he gets in return. He shrugs in response.

“Can we go there?” Dustin is trailing after Steve, close on his heels as they head for the living room where Max meets them. 

“Sure, do you guys want a minute to settle in first? I know you had a long fli-”

“We can go now,” Max interrupts and Dustin nods enthusiastically. 

They’re outside before Steve has even stepped out of the elevator. He shakes his head with a fond smile and follows them.

“What’re you doing?” Dustin is asking Max when he catches up.

“Uh, getting into the car, what does it look like I’m doing?” She replies with a familiar disinterested tone.

“That’s my seat.”

“You sat shotgun on the way here, it’s my turn.”

“Steve, tell her!” 

“She’s right.” He shrugs, still smiling. He really has missed them, petty arguments and all, “You can sit up front on the way back.”

Dustin huffs about the seating arrangement a little at first but for the most part it's peaceful on the short drive to Hellfire, the sound of the radio drowned out by the overlapping chatter and bombardment of questions directed at Steve. Will Eddie be there? What’s he like? Is he as cool as you said he is? Have you told him about us? What did you tell him about us?

Eddie has, surprisingly, moved from the couch when the three of them walk into Hellfire; it's instead occupied by Robin and Chrissy sipping on little paper cups of coffee and sharing a box of pastries that sits on the cushion between them. Robin stands, putting her coffee down in such a rush that some of it spills into the rim of the plastic lid when she sees them. 

Dustin tackles her similarly to how he had done Steve earlier and Max wraps her arms around the both of them when Robin beckons her over to join in the hug.

“I missed you both so much!” She has her face pressed into Max’s hair and she’s squeezing them both so tight Steve’s not sure how either of them are breathing.

“Where’s Eds?” Steve asks Chrissy, she’s still on the couch watching the reunion with a soft smile and he speaks quietly so as not to disturb them. 

“Eds?” Max breaks away from the hug and turns on Steve with an expression that can only mean trouble. ‘Quietly’ was not quiet enough as it seems. Dustin seems unphased, his attention focused on Robin and the animated conversation they’re having.

Right on cue Eddie appears from wherever it is he has been hiding and Steve breathes a sigh of relief, he’ll escape her grilling and most likely teasing for a little while yet. She won’t forget though, Steve knows that much, he may be free for now but he’s just delaying the inevitable. 

“You must be Max.” Eddie is wearing a 1000 watt smile and Steve has to admit it’s endearing to see how excited he is about meeting Steve’s kids, “I’m Eddie, Steve’s told me a lot about you.”

“Nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to shake and Eddie accepts, she glares at him the whole time as if she’s looking right through him. She’s testing him, sizing him up. Steve’s seen her do it a thousand times before. He relaxes just a little bit when they break the hand shake and Max’s expression softens with a nod, not quite a smile, but something close to approval. 

“And that leaves, Dustin, right?” 

Dustin whips around at the mention of his name, he’s had his back turned to the three of them up until now, catching up with Robin and not paying a lot of attention to whatever it was the rest of the group were up to.

“No fucking way.” 

“Dustin!” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, that was not how he was hoping that particular interaction would begin.

“I knew your voice sounded familiar!”  He yells, completely ignoring Steve and vibrating with excitement, jumping up and down on the spot. “I heard you talking in the background when I called Steve sometimes, but I could never figure out why I felt like I knew you.” Dustin’s eyes are so wide Steve’s surprised they haven’t fallen right out of their sockets.

“My- wait. Is your last name Henderson by any chance?”

“Holy shit,” Dustin says and Steve has given up at this point. He’s completely lost and by the looks on the faces of the others he’s not alone, “Eddie, Supreme-DM, Eddie?!”

“The one and only Sir. Dalastor Henderghton.” He bows low and with a flourish of the hand as if he’s introducing himself to royalty. 

“Ok, I’m confused,” Robin announces, interrupting whatever it is Eddie and Dustin have going on, “Would one of you like to share with the group? What the hell is happening right now?”

“Do you two know each other?” Chrissy adds with a quizzical tilt of her head.

“We play D&D together online,” Dustin explains, then turns to Steve for backup, “Steve, I told you about him right?”

“Yeah- yeah you told me but I- my Eddie is your Eddie?” Dustin gives a sideways glance at the implication but he doesn’t comment. Steve is sure it’ll be added to whatever teasing he’ll have to endure from Max later over ‘Eds’.

“It’s a small world,” Eddie brings a hand up to pat Dustin’s shoulder before it settles there as if they’re old friends, Steve supposes they are in a way.

“I don’t understand, you’ve seen photos of Dustin before, how did you not recognise him?” Steve’s brow is furrowed, his mind working to keep up as he connects all of the dots.

None of the kids have ever seen photos of Eddie, but Eddie has seen Dustin countless times before, in the photograph on Steve’s dresser and in the countless pictures Steve has on his phone. Granted, a lot of the pictures were from back when they were still teenagers but they hadn’t changed that much, certainly not to the point of being unrecognizable. 

“I’ve only ever heard his voice, some of our party members don’t activate their cameras.”

“My laptop doesn’t have a camera.” Dustin smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. Caltech whizz-kid, smartest person Steve knows and he doesn’t own a laptop with a camera, figures.

“I can’t believe I got to meet the person who inspired your character before we even met face to face,” Eddie looks to Dustin and Steve follows his gaze with a single raised eyebrow. Dustin is very pointedly avoiding eye contact with both of them.

“Not cool, man!” Dustin says in a hushed tone, “That was said in confidence and away from the party’s ears for a reason!”

“No one here is part of the party.” Eddie points out. Dustin sighs and covers his face with one hand, rubbing at the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Are you guys sticking around for a while?” Chrissy interrupts before the conversation can turn into bickering.

Steve looks to Robin who gives a tiny raise of her shoulders, he turns to look between Dustin and Max instead, “It’s up to you guys.”

“Yeah,” Max answers on behalf of both of them, “We can stay.”

“Good, there’s plenty to be done.” Chrissy is smiling, that warm welcoming smile that could convince anyone to go along with anything and Max trails after her without question when she heads towards the meticulously laid out tables and chairs she had been sanding and varnishing earlier. Most of their furniture is second hand, they look for the cheaper beaten up stuff then Chrissy works her magic. ‘Upcycling’ she had called it once.

Eddie leaves with Robin, whispering conspiratorially between themselves as they go. Steve expects Dustin to follow, but he’s just standing there staring at him with a borderline creepy smile on his face.

“Alright, out with it. Let’s get this over with.”

“Your Eddie huh?”

“So, you made a character based on me, huh?” Steve bites back, trying not to sound as smug as he feels. Or as flattered.

He finds the whole thing quite endearing really, and he’s fairly certain he’ll start to tear up if he thinks about it too hard, so he jokes about it instead. A very unhealthy technique for dealing with his emotions that he’s sure he picked up from Robin.

“Shut up.”

“I won’t talk if you don’t.” 

“Deal,” Dustin agrees.

“Alright, come on.” He bats the brim of Dustin’s cap as he passes, pushing it down over his eyes. 

Eddie and Robin are over by the stage, leaning into each other and giggling like a couple of school girls and he wants to know what has them so amused. They immediately change their tone when they see Steve approaching, Eddie is hiding something behind his back and they’re standing up straighter and trying their best to school their expressions into something more neutral but they’re both terrible at it.

“What are you two up to?” Steve asks, already resigned to whatever shenanigans he’s about to willingly let himself be dragged into.

“Well,” Eddie starts, the word drawn out and dramatic, “remember when I said I had a donation for the gallery?” Steve nods, “I went back to my apartment while you were picking the hobbits up and-”

There’s a pair of handcuffs dangling in front of Steve’s face. Not the cheap kind lined with fluffy faux fur that Steve has seen in the past, no these are made of what seems to be a high quality leather with a chunky buckle on each cuff and a thick silver chain joining them together. They look expensive.

He’s staring, he knows he is and he knows he needs to say something but he can’t seem to find a single word to force out of his clenched jaw. His cheeks are burning, his face is no doubt glowing an embarrassing shade of red. He forgets about Dustin standing by his side until he hears his barely contained snicker and then his eyes are widening, darting between Dustin and Eddie while the panic sets in. The way he sees it he has two options, covering Dustin’s eyes or snatching the cuffs from Eddie… maybe both. Yeah, both. Both is good.

“Dude, you know I’m like twenty now right?” Dustin asks, clearly witnessing the internal struggle Steve is going through and deciding to spare him. 

It still feels strange hearing it. Sometimes it’s easy to forget they’re young adults now, no longer the little 14 year old trouble makers he remembers. Hell, Mike is as tall as if not a little taller than him now, most of them have part time jobs and their own apartments. 

Steve splutters, still not quite able to find his words, this time it’s Robin who comes to his aid, “Come on, Chrissy is calling for us.”

“What no she-” Dustin screws up his face as if she’s started speaking in another language, he quickly cuts himself off when she gives him a pointed glare, “Oh- actually I think I can hear her now, yeah, see you in a bit Steve we’ll be-” He gestures vaguely in the direction of Chrissy and Max on the other side of the room, ushered along by Robin who throws a wink in Steve’s direction before they go.

“What’s wrong, not into kinky stuff, Harrington?” Eddie asks with a smirk once Robin and Dustin are gone.

“No, no it’s not that,” He says in a rush, “I just didn’t peg you for the type.” He realizes too late his choice of words and Eddie’s face lights up with amusement.

“Oh I’m full of surprises,” It’s barely more than a whisper. Steve isn’t sure when they got so close, but he can feel Eddie’s breath on his cheek as he speaks. He’s gone just as quickly as he appeared, the distance between them growing despite Steve wanting the opposite, “Where should we put them?”

“Are you sure you want to get rid of them?”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I have others and my ex bought these ones.”

Others. Steve gulps, trying not to let his mind wander. It’s ok. He can be normal about this. But all he can think about are the mental images of those leather cuffs wrapped around Eddie’s wrists, or maybe how they’d feel against his own skin and- yeah he is so far beyond being normal about this. God, someone needs to just put him out of his misery before he does something really stupid and messes this whole thing up.

“Right,” He squeaks. 

They decide to hang them on the wall in the end, next to the purple scrunchie Steve donated. Robin gives him a knowing look when they join the others and Steve has no doubts that she’s going to want all of the details once they get back to the apartment. He’s not sure he’s ready for that conversation yet.

Eddie only writes ‘He wasn’t the one.’ with no duration of the relationship beside the handcuffs. Steve briefly wonders what it would mean to be his one.

<Chapter 5 ~ Master post ~ Chapter 7>

[margosfairyeye]

paper cut

(rated T, idiots to lovers, hurt/comfort)

you can also read it on ao3

“Shit!”

Eddie looks over as Steve doubles over, clutching his hand.

“You all right, Harrington?” Eddie asks carefully.

They’re sitting side by side on Eddie’s couch (a new and improved version of the old beat to hell one they’d had in the old trailer, provided by the government along with the new trailer itself) while Eddie tries to study for finals and Steve leafs through his papers, providing such helpful commentary as “Wow, you really fucked this one up, huh?” and, “Don’t you think books should have a list of themes at the end, like a cheat sheet?”

Steve whimpers and Eddie jolts into action, grabbing the old first aid kit from the bathroom and sprinting back to the couch.

Eddie throws himself down next to Steve, not bothering to worry about how close he’s sitting during what clearly is some kind of emergency. His stomach churns, panic rising as he thinks about all the things that could possibly be wrong, batshit monsters included. “Shit, is it your bat wounds? Is there something here? Come on, man, you’ve got to at least reassure me you’re not about to keel over.”

Steve’s still curled into himself, which is a bad fucking sign. Eddie’s pretty sure that he got lucky with the murder charges getting dropped, what with the government interference and all, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to talk his way out of a second inconvenient supernatural death in his trailer with him present.

Plus, there’s the fact that Eddie is completely, depressingly, overwhelmingly in love with Steve. It would utterly devastate him if Steve decided to die on his ugly living room carpet.

Eddie has been kind of under the impression that Steve is secretly a superhero, just without the spandex (shit, he could pull off the spandex, though). How else could he explain Steve walking around with bleeding abdominal wounds and pretending to be totally fine, or (apparently) getting beaten bloody and tortured while still slinging zippy one-liners? Steve’s like, Hollywood action hero levels of badass. So if he’s fucking whimpering on Eddie’s couch, Steve must be really hurt.

But fuck if Eddie’s going to let Steve go without putting up one hell of a fight. Even if it means fighting Vecna, second edition.

Eddie puts his hand gently but insistently on Steve’s shoulder, forcing bravado into his voice. “Okay, Harrington, let’s see the damage.”

Wincing, Steve uncurls himself, offering his left hand (which had been cradled in his right) to Eddie. Eddie takes Steve’s hand in his own, dimly aware of every inch of their skin that touches as he examines it, looking for a gash, a stab wound, a broken bone—hell, even a fucking leech or something.

But there’s just a little cut on the tip of Steve’s thumb, bright red but not actively bleeding.

Without thinking about it, Eddie smooths his own thumb over the tiny cut.

Steve cringes, trying ineffectively to pull his hand from Eddie’s grasp. “Ow! Munson, what the fuck?!”

“Is this it?” Eddie asks skeptically. “A paper cut? That’s…are you also being psychically tortured or something, like, in addition to the paper cut?”

Steve looks at him, eyes narrow, pain drawn in lines across his forehead. He looks like he might be about to deck Eddie, which Eddie might kind of deserve because he feels like he’s about to start laughing. “No? Shut the fuck up, it’s deep. Cuts like this always get infected, too, and people die from that. You can’t underestimate this shit.”

It’s not funny, really. Steve is clearly in a lot of pain, but…this is the guy who Dustin said was the most fearless guy he knew? This is the guy who faced down Vecna without breaking more than a sweat, laid low by a paper cut?

Steve taps his knee against Eddie’s. “Come on, man, pour something antiseptic on it or something, before it gets worse.”

And despite it all, this is the guy Eddie is head over fucking heels for.

Steve looks at Eddie pleadingly (hopefully). And shit, there’s literally nothing Eddie wouldn’t do when Steve gives him that look, including acting like a paper cut is a lethal wound.

Eddie flips open the first aid kit with his free hand to reveal…not much. A couple of bandaids, some butterfly bandages, and some packets of barbecue sauce. Not an antiseptic wipe to be seen.

“Uh,” Eddie shows him the sparse first aid kit, holds up a bandaid. “Will this help?”

Steve looks unimpressed. “Do you have any alcohol we could just pour over it?”

Eddie knows he means like, hard liquor, but the thing is that shit isn’t cheap. Uncle Wayne probably wouldn’t give a shit if they took shots of his good whiskey, but pouring it out…

“Like, beer?” Eddie asks hopefully.

Steve shakes his head, groaning. “Too sticky.”

Which, yeah, obviously. Eddie weighs the pros and cons of trying to just convince Steve that his cut is going to be fine, or possibly getting in the van and driving to the pharmacy for new first aid supplies that he can’t afford and isn’t sure Steve can either. Maybe they could steal them, that might be a fun bonding activity, or maybe Eddie can trade the pharmacist some off-label pharmaceuticals for some hydrogen peroxide or something.

“Saliva,” Steve says suddenly, looking Eddie dead in the eye. Shit, his eyes are pretty, and this close Eddie can see the little flecks of gold and green in his eyes.

Then the word actually catches up to him. “What?”

“Spit, I think it’s supposed to help with shit not getting infected.”

Eddie blinks at him. “So do you want to spit on your thumb and then put a bandaid on it?”

Steve huffs in frustration. “I don’t think it can be your own spit, man.”

“Oh.” Eddie feels a little frustrated himself, since he’s almost entirely sure this is all bullshit— Steve doesn’t fucking need anything but soap and a bandaid and maybe a night of good sleep—and Eddie is supposed to be studying for fucks sake, and…and he’s the only other one here. Steve said it can’t be his own spit and Eddie is the only other one here. Oh.

Eddie’s still holding Steve's hand in his palm, and he runs his finger along the side of Steve’s thumb. Steve doesn’t flinch this time, just looks at him expectantly, that hopeful look that Eddie really can’t say no to.

It’s a bad idea. Eddie is going to get way more out of putting his mouth on Steve’s finger than Steve will—he's going to be on a different fucking planet than Steve, who’s just looking for a quick fix for a papercut and isn’t having trouble with his jeans suddenly feeling way too tight.

It’s a bad fucking idea but Eddie nods.

“Yeah, okay. Sure, uh, I can…yeah, I can do that.”

Eddie slowly lifts Steve’s hand towards his mouth. His mouth suddenly feels incredibly fucking dry, and he can feel himself tensing up, ready to run in case it was just a joke, in case he gives himself away somehow and this ends in disgust. He’s half expecting Steve to laugh and say it was all a setup, joke's on him. He’s half expecting Steve to flinch away, to see Eddie’s feelings clearly visible in his eyes.

Steve doesn’t do shit, though. Just watches Eddie with wide eyes, his lips slightly parted. Eddie has his thumb pressed against Steve’s pulse point, and Steve’s pulse jumps, slipping into a fast gallop that Eddie can only assume is due to stress.

His own pulse pounding in his ears, Eddie puts Steve’s thumb in his mouth. He realizes, after he’s already done it, that there were other ways of accomplishing this. He could have spit on his own hand and like, rubbed it on Steve’s thumb or something. He could have licked Steve’s cut, quick and dirty, but like…quick.

But Eddie’s brain power is slowly draining down towards his groin, and he sucks the whole damn finger into his mouth, rolling his tongue over Steve’s little paper cut like he’s fucking fellating the finger.

Steve’s mouth drops open, a little puff of air blown out into the space between them, then bites his lip. His eyes are dark, watching Eddie, but it still looks like he could be in pain. Eddie softens the pressure of his mouth, sucking gently, just like, trying to make sure he’s done a good enough job that Steve can relax.

He’s holding Steve’s hand, still, his fingers gently curled around Steve’s, and it feels, all of a sudden, incredibly intimate. Eddie should take Steve’s thumb out of his mouth—Jesus Christ, should he—but the intense eye contact and the way Steve is biting his lip red and the way his thumb feels against Eddie’s tongue, a good kind of pressure, is all adding up to this moment that Eddie wants to live in. For a second, he can pretend this isn’t some inane injury thing, can pretend that Steve’s as into him as he’s into Steve, that Steve wants Eddie and Eddie is just teasing the shit out of his thumb.

And then Steve clears his throat and his eyes slip down to Eddie’s lips. “I think, uh, I think that’s good, maybe?”

Shit, yeah, of course. Eddie parts his lips, moves Steve’s thumb away from his mouth, although he does it slowly enough that the pad of Steve’s thumb drags along his lip a bit, and fuck if that isn’t a turn on as well.

“Yeah, right. Is that—is it better?”

It’s fucking awkward, is what it is. Eddie feels hot all over, can tell he’s probably flushed, and his jeans are way too damn tight in a way that’s probably really obvious. And Steve’s thumb—shit, it’s shiny and wet and way too suggestive for Eddie’s current state, and the paper cut still looks completely fine.

Steve’s eyes slip briefly away from Eddie—from where he was staring at Eddie’s fucking mouth—and down to his thumb, his hand still cradled in Eddie’s. Steve licks his lips, considering his thumb. Eddie is waiting for the other shoe to drop still—for Steve’s expression to shift to disgust, or for him to just casually ask for a bandaid (not like it will stick now), like this is a normal thing friends do for each other for minor injuries.

He’s not expecting Steve to suddenly lunge forward, pushing Eddie back against the back of the couch, and press his own lips against Eddie’s. It takes Eddie a moment to even catch up to what’s happening, his brain stalling out at the unexpected kiss. Because that’s what’s happening, Steve fucking Harrington is kissing him, and once Eddie realizes that, he jumps into action, kissing back hard. His fingers clutch at Steve’s hand, at his spit-soaked thumb, his other hand wrapping around Steve’s back, and Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie’s startled enough by that to part his lips, and Steve immediately deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into Eddie’s mouth. He presses his free hand to Eddie’s neck, cradling his jaw. It’s sweet and hot and fucking unexpected, and Eddie feels like he must have fallen asleep, must be dreaming this entire scenario. Except Steve is basically on his lap now, and he feels warm and solid and he’s kissing Eddie better than Eddie’s ever been kissed in his entire life, and it’s all too real to be anything else.

After a long moment, Steve pulls back, leaning away but not moving off of Eddie’s lap. Which Eddie isn’t complaining about, although he’s sure Steve can feel how hard he is.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though.

“Finally,” Steve murmurs, leaning back in for another quick kiss, more of a peck. A kiss that’s more fond than passion. Eddie’s had even fewer kisses like that in his life. Steve is good at the deep tongue kissing, and he’s good at the cute chaste kissing, apparently. He’s a goddamn force. “I thought you were never going to kiss me.”

“Technically,” Eddie says, and his voice is strained and hoarse, embarrassingly so, since Steve still sounds suave and like, in control of his tone, “you kissed me.”

“You just sucked on my thumb,” Steve grins. “That totally counts. It’s lip to skin contact.”

Eddie has to admit, that kind of sounds like it does count. Plus, he’ll totally take the personal clout that comes with making the first move on Steve Harrington. Even if he did it without thinking, just acting on the want coursing through him every time they’re together. Except, now that he’s thinking about it, Steve totally walked him to that action, and now he’s looking gleeful and happy, and not surprised in the least.

“Was that—” Eddie presses his palm against his forehead. “Was that a move? Did I just fall for a paper cut move?”

Steve grins. “Kind of? I mean I threw out the pitch but you hit it over the fence.” Eddie must look confused, because Steve rolls his eyes. "I wasn’t expecting you to fucking suck on my finger, but damn. ”

Steve runs his hand through his hair, mussing it a little, and Eddie wonders if he’s allowed to muss it now, too. Eddie tentatively reaches up, curls his fingers into the strands of Steve’s hair, just holding on for now, and Steve gives another quiet moan. Steve’s eyes are dark and he looks almost as turned on as Eddie feels, and a wave of pride washes over Eddie.

“Guess the Munson moves are almost as good as the Harrington moves, huh?”

Steve shrugs noncommittally. “Yeah, they’re okay.” But he leans down and kisses Eddie again, so Eddie’s counting it as a win. Maybe not an entirely intentional win, sports metaphors aside, but still.

“So,” Eddie says when they break apart again, panting, Steve’s lips shiny and bruised red, “was all of that an act? You’re not really that upset about a paper cut?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, it hurts like a bitch, but I saw an opening and I went for it.” His smile turns devious. “In fact, I think there might be some other injuries you should check, on more uh, sensitive spots. Now that I know you’re so good at tending to my wounds.”

He gives Eddie a meaningful look, and Eddie doesn’t need to be asked twice. He jumps off the couch, pulling Steve with him, hand still clutching his barely injured finger. He pauses in the hallway, just outside of his bedroom, a place they haven’t really been together, because there wasn’t an excuse, because it felt like a Thing before.

“Put my mouth to work,” Eddie says quietly, raising his eyebrow, and laughs as Steve all but pushes him through the door.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Preview: GD Vol. II | Part Five

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I see the look on his face as soon as the door opens, Eddie’s hair wild from what I’m assuming was a nap before I interrupted it, until he opens the door a little wider to reveal his guitar. 

He looked at me as if he was witnessing a car accident and couldn’t look away. My hair was completely unkept, I had dried baby vomit on my already stained t-shirt, I was still in pajama shorts and my bedroom slippers and my eyes were nearly swollen shut from crying.

Crying over a screaming baby, crying over feeling alone, and crying because my husband had apparently contacted his mistress and didn’t tell me about it.

I probably looked like a Martian compared to how he’d been used to seeing me before going out with Valerie, or at events.

I could see the temptation to shut the door in my face, but he wasn’t that kind of guy.

“Viv?” He asks me, glancing around outside before adding, “Umm, Val’s not home. Were you supposed to hangout or…?”

“No, no – I just…I wanted to talk to you, actually…um…” It’s awkward as I wait for him to invite me inside, but then remember maybe it’s best that we talk out here to avoid anybody getting the wrong idea. 

“Oh, okay.” He closes the door a second to go put his instrument down before he’s back out in his t-shirt and jeans, sitting down on one of the little cream-colored wicker chairs on the porch.

I opt to stay standing to keep some distance between us – again, voiding any prying eyes of making it into something it’s not – and cross my arms nervously while he obviously waits for me to tell him what it is I wanted to talk about. 

“Valerie told me what happened with you two, you know.” I confess it, and he looks as if he knows this, raising his brows slightly as I continue, “And she told me she cheated first.” 

“Yeah.” It looks uncomfortable coming from him, perhaps a blatant indication that I’m crossing a line, but knowing him, if I were crossing a line, he’d let me know rather quickly. 

“Do you think she loved him more than she loved you?” It’s the only thing that can come to my mind, only because that’s the question that torments me more and more despite Nikki’s affair being further and further into the past. 

Immediately, he shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t. I think…” He takes a moment to really gather his words, chewing at the inside of his lips before explaining, “...I think I was getting more and more busy, and kinda got absent…and she felt alone. He was there, and she liked that.” 

He was there, and she liked that, I repeat it in my head, secretly understanding that notion completely being I myself have felt that same feeling.

“What if you found out she recently contacted him to have some closure for the relationship? What would you do?”

“Has she?” His face twists.

“No, no, she hasn’t. But, just theoretically, what if she did?” 

“I wouldn’t like it but…closure exists as a way of indefinitely closing a chapter, right?” He asks softly, scratching at the back of his elbow.

“Yeah.”

He gives a shrug and a breath out and says, “Then why get angry or hurt she’s officially being rid of it?” 

It’s clear now that he knows a little bit of what’s going on, or why I’m here asking him very personal questions, because he then asks, “If he loved her, he would’ve left you for her.” 

“If he loved me he wouldn’t have gone to her in the first place.” It slips from me.

“I thought that, too, at first. Then, I fucked up, too.” He mumbles. “And I know I damn sure love her, but I still did it. Some things just aren’t black and white. You gotta know that by now.” He points out with a small smirk, his signature grin that pulls a smile of my own. “Did you love him?”

It’s asked as I’m about to thank him for his time and bid him “goodbye,” and I’m taken back by it.

It’s not prying or nosy — he legitimately looks curious. He let me overstep, so I suppose I can let him, now, too.

“I still do.” I admit it to him out loud, the only one I’ve really admitted it to. “But I love Nikki more.” 

[thepalegoldmoon]

I haven’t posted on here in practically literal years. And this is my first time ever positing fanfiction related content. I’m nervous but hopeful this is interesting to someone out there. Please let me know your thoughts and if you’re interested at all. I’ll post updates to this tumblr and my twitter so please feel free to like if it’s something you’re interested in and follow for the updates as I work on the fic. And please be kind and keep in mind, this is a rough and first draft after all. So, here’s opening to a fanfiction I’m planning for A03! lemme know what you think and if it seems interesting enough to read!~

“Steve is a sweet caring guy doing his best and taking care of his friend. the more preassure and stress he's under the more he talks in his sleep. Something he’s struggled with for years. Embarrassingly having to explain away the mumbles and weird one sided conversations the next day, trying to recover from whatever had been heard the night before. He constantly hopped the person telling him it had happened, was telling him the truth. Constantly hoping he could trust himself that he didn’t say anything embarrassing or offensive personally confidential he wasn’t ready to talk about with anyone yet socially. Worried something he’d subconsciously suppressed might come out like who he had a crush on in middle school or dumb stuff people could be weirdly judged about as a popular kid. Thankfully most don’t know, or try to exploit it. Well, besides ex lovers or those he had sleep overs with in middle school. Those that do know, are aware it would get worse when his parents were away or were home and in fights, particularly over Steve’s fathers actions while at work. Despite a divorce being the better option Steve mother and father stayed together. Steve’s father constantly going on business trips and his mother never letting him be on his own for suspicion of him cheating on here. While she in fact would cheat on him at the same time. Steve had mistakenly given that away at an early age and after the first slip up, remembered to never get into either of his parents love lives, and who they brought home, since then. When your ass practically gets handed to you on a silver platter by both parents, constantly being used as a reason for one to throw the other on the bus almost every week, for practically a full year straight. This occurring when everyone was finally all home together, meant to be in enjoying their time as a family not playing a game of toss up between them and their only child. It was not the greatest way to learn a lesson you should’ve never had to learn but c’est la vie as Steve would come to learn was one of his mottos. Later in life when his parents were on his ass, to figure out collage, work, keeping his grades up, and being left by himself at home, Nannieless now that he was old enough. If school was becoming stressful, or his dad would be coming home from a trip looking for a new reason to grill into Steve for something. His sleep stat would just start rambling once he hit a dream stay in his sleep cycle.

Being the outcast observationalist, Eddie just wants to help the man who he’d never thought would ever be the one to save and drag his sorry ass out of some eldritch horror dimension, and who's been practically doting on him since they got him stablized in Hopper's cabin hideaway. Never in a million years would he think this was real if you had told him before the fact. The thoughts of someone explaining to Eddie he’d be friends with Steve Harrington, a Harrington. Thrown into a interdenominational world, and almost dying to otherworldly demon bats. He’d think you need some serious professional help, nothing the kind of fixes he could provide for anyone. Besides just surviving the upside down, he’s been helped so much while on the run by Steve and his little nuggets. After finally coming to a couple days after his inter dimensional concert and the sacrifice of his life. It seemed like everything is practically fine, aside from the gaping trenches left after Venca’s so called defeat, the craters left at each of the gate sites meaning he’d lost his home to this hellish turn of events. Aside from it all seeming fine, like they’d won this round. Eddie cant help but feel something's off, there's something he's missing it's gotta be something important. He’s just not picking up on it, he’s too distracted by his pain, recovery and longing to help Steve. Maybe in the end it’s just regular paranoia after all this week he’d, been forced to watch his peer get her life ripped away before him, hunted for a crime he didn’t commit, and almost lost his own life, in a dimension he before hand was blissfully unaware of. That’s it paranoia that’s all it was. He was just being paranoid, after all he has a whole new slew of trauma and life changing events to process. Especially after waking up a dead man to the town of Hawkins no longer a prime suspect in the hot seat.”