#honestly eddie you are SO LUCKY

[robbie-verse]

eddie sees stevie accidentally trying on girl clothes + doing her make up and trying different names/she/her pronouns for herself in front of the mirror, he doesnt interrupt just silently backs away not wanting to intrude in her little exploration but from then on he's so !! excited !!!!! every time stevie tells him she needs to talk to him about something eddie is like 'omgomgomg this is it !!!! she's going to come out to me and she'll be my gf !!' but it's stevie telling him to go get x pasta shape next time or something

just eddie rlly fcking ready to hype up her gf whenever she decides to come out to him !!!!!!

[corrodedcoughin]

Thinking about steddie future where they're both just average guys. No rockstars, no basketball players just two Normal men living a normal life because honestly? they deserve it. They deserve soft domesticity and happiness.

They both have jobs they like but don't love and they're happy with that. Eddie maybe becomes an electrician, working for someone else's company. His coworkers are chill, he gets to get out and work with his hands and that's more than he could have asked for. Steve is a physical therapist, or a manager in some business. He likes his team and the steady hours. He's not working for his dad which is a plus.

They buy a house together, that's not a mansion but it's not a trailer either. Steve does a lot of the dishes because Eddie hates it, hates the feeling of old food on the plates and cutlery. So Eddie will kiss Steve on the cheek and does the laundry because Steve fucking hates laundry. And sitting on the floor watching TV while he folds clothes is honestly sort of relaxing?? Love is doing the chores your partner hates.

Steve and Robin go out for brunch at least once a month, where they catch up and gossip for hours and hours and Steve comes home lighter with updates on Robin and Vickie. Eddie will have nightly phone calls with Wayne, where they talk and laugh and Eddie will eventually hand the phone over to Steve so he and Wayne can talk sports together. When he's in town Dustin will come over and stay in their spare room and they laugh and joke so much it's just like old times. They go over to Jeff's house for dinner on a semi regular basis, and it's nice having normal friends.

They adopt a very annoying cat who will climb all over them in bed and meow in their faces when they don't wake up to feed it breakfast in time. Steve will go for jogs on a Saturday morning, coming home to Eddie reading in bed. Some old western book Wayne recommended to him. There's a steaming cup of coffee waiting on their bedside tables that Eddie's prepared.

They take time off of work and go on a week long vacation because they can do that now. They do dorky touristy things and Eddie buys a mug to send to Wayne. Steve takes a lot of dorky photos of the two of them.

Idk they deserve to be normal and alive and happy with no upside down anymore <3

Oh I love this! I had actually been thinking about tradesman Eddie for a little bit I am so, so glad you’ve come up with this!

I can so completely see him learning a trade and just getting employed and put through his time by a small local employer! He has to go through his exams and that part of it worries him when he first gets the job but his team end up being really supportive and Steve stays up late with him, practicing circuits and wiring and quizzing him on currents and volts. Eddie returning the favour, letting Steve mark up his muscles and be a living anatomy dummy. Sure it gets a little sexy from time to time but more often than not it’s just them testing each other as Steve identifies bones and Eddie talks about parallel circuits.

The monthly brunches mentally and physically revive Steve after working extended hours with patients that he really does want the best for but a jobs a job and it can get pretty tiring. They joke that they rebalance each others chakras but they really do feel realigned after their meet ups. Eddie can see it to, sometimes he’ll come pick them up when it’s been a boozy brunch and delights in seeing them happy and light, clambering over each other to tell Eddie something about one of the waiters or an especially good dish they ordered. When he drops Robin home Steve sits in the front and looks at peace and Eddie feels the same way.

Their weekends are for them, sometimes that means staying home and cleaning the whole place between ordering food in and sometimes that means going on a day trip and taking Wayne around all the antique spots around the county and seeing what horrors they can uncover. Top spot currently sits with Wayne’s find of a doll whose limbs had been replaced with horse legs and had the head of a fish. Of course they bought it.

Every time they go on a holiday they make sure to send postcards to everyone, including themselves, seeing if they’ll get home before the postcard does. Steve keeps them in a photo album, each with a Polaroid of them next to it. Sometimes taken by a stranger, sometimes just a close up of their faces squashed together. It’s Eddie’s favourite thing to go through on their anniversary, or any day really, just loves being reminded that this is the life they get to have.

It’s mundane, dare say even normal, but they love it. Steve comes home every night, happy to put his scrubs in the washing machine next to Eddie’s uniform, happy to be where he feels loved.

[iidsch]

now that i've completed all the character episodes and fought with or against all characters i can finally make a tier list with my opinion on everyone ✌

[munsonsmixtapes]

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

summary: You and Eddie think that your feelings for each other aren't reciprocated but you both couldn't be more wrong

cw: hurt/comfort

This is part two to Flattery Works With Me

You sat in the front seat of Eddie’s van picking at the skin around your finger nails as a metal song played from the speakers loudly. You had been in his van many times since he always gave you rides to the DnD sessions, but this was different. He was going to come into your house. He was going to see your room, and that terrified you. You knew he would never make fun of you for anything, but you were still embarrassed considering that you still had some things left from your childhood, like some boy band posters and stuffed animals that you couldn’t get yourself to get rid of. 

Eddie, though, was looking forward to seeing where you lived. The place always looked cozy when he drove up to it and now he was going to see if it actually was. He was looking forward to seeing your room, wondering if it was as sweet as you, if it was what he had been imagining. He was looking forward to helping you with your homework, honestly anything that meant he got to spend time with you. Alone. Those twenty minute car rides were the highlight every week and now he was going to hang out with you as long as you would have had him. 

“You okay over there?” Eddie asked, drumming on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was playing. He then reached over and turned the volume dial, making the music a bit lower so he could hear you when you spoke.

You slowly turned to him just in time to see his warm smile before he turned back to face the road. You thought about his question, wondering how you should have answered it, trying to figure how to word it without spilling the entire truth. That you had a huge crush on him and were nervous to be hanging out with him alone because you were concerned that you were going to tell him the truth and he was going to reject you. 

And you couldn’t have that, you just couldn’t. He was the best friend you ever had and there was no way that you were going to bring feelings into the mix. Everything was great and you weren’t going to ruin it by telling him that you liked him romantically. So, you swallowed the confession down like a large pill then turned to him, plastering on the best smile you could muster even though your heart was breaking a little. 

“I’m good,” you nodded. Eddie wasn’t buying it, but he was going to press you on it. If you had something that was bothering you, you’d tell him. At least, he hoped that you would. 

“Alright,” he replied as he turned into your driveway and your heart rate picked up. “Good.” He got out of the van then rounded the front of it before opening the door for you and helping you out of your seat. You led him to the front door, very aware that you were still holding hands, but you wouldn’t dare let go. His was soft and rough and there was something about it that made you instantly feel comforted. 

You let go of his hand and reached for your backpack, opening the smallest pocket and pulling out your keys. Eddie watched you, wondering why he was falling in love with you as you were doing something so mundane as unlocking your door. But there he was, looking at you like you had hung the moon, feeling like he was going to throw up from how overwhelmed with the feeling he was. He wanted to tell you the truth, but he didn’t think it was right. He didn’t think there was any way that you’d be interested in a freak like him. He was lucky enough to have you as a friend and he sure as hell wasn’t going to push it by telling you that he was totally and completely head over heels for you. 

The door opened and Eddie followed you inside, kicking off his shoes as he watched you do the same thing. He followed you into the kitchen like a lost puppy, getting distracted by all of the decorations that lined the walls. He was about to enter the kitchen when he spotted a framed photo that was hanging by the entrance. It was a photo of you from when you were about seven. You were reading a book, facing your palm towards the camera as if you didn’t want to have your photo taken. He shook his head with a chuckle since seemingly nothing had changed. 

“Do you want some orange juice?” You asked and Eddie stepped into the kitchen, seeing that you already had two glasses out along with the carton. He wasn’t really a big fan of the beverage, but there was no way in hell he was saying no to you. 

“I’d love some,” he smiled and you poured him a glass before handing it to him. Your fingers brushed his and your were beginning to panic at the way your hands were touching, deciding that you needed to move away as soon as possible. 

You watched him bring the glass up to his lips, wondering what they would have felt like slotted between yours, if they were as soft as they looked. He finished off half the glass then set it down on the counter and you couldn’t help but notice that some of the juice had dribbled down his chin. You stared at him, wanting to wipe away from him, but not quite having the confidence to do so.

“What?” He asked with a chuckle. “Do I have something on my face?” You pointed to the spot on your own chin and he stepped closer pointing his towards you, wanting you to get rid of it for him. 

You reached up and wiped the juice away from his chin with your thumb and your hand was removed from his skin before he was ready. He wanted you to pull him towards you and press your lips to his. He wanted to taste your lip gloss, desperate to know what the flavor was. If there was one. 

His gaze dropped to your lips and they parted, your eyes widening ever so slightly.. Just when he was about to make the move, you stepped away, smoothing out your dress to distract yourself. You then looked back up at him, clearing your throat as you did so. 

“Homework?” You asked, the volume of your voice even lower than it usually was. 

“Sure, doll,” he nodded. “Homework.”

Eddie grabbed your backpack from where you left it leaning up against the island then let you pass him, leading him out of the kitchen and to the stairs. He slung a strap of your backpack over his shoulder as you ascended the stairs, feeling very out of place considering that the only reason why ever went to a girl’s room was to sleep with them. And you weren’t going to sleep with him. That wasn’t the kind of girl you were, not that it would have mattered if it was. 

And you were also shameless about your friendship with Eddie. All of his hookups made him sneak in through their window and make him leave the same way because they were ashamed. They just wanted to have a fun time with Eddie “the freak” Munson and then make him swear to not tell anyone. He always said he didn’t mind, but that kind of treatment does something to a person. Not that Eddie would have admitted that his feelings were hurt by it. 

You got to the door of your bedroom and opened it, heading inside with Eddie hot on your heels. You stood in the center of the room awkwardly as he took it in, deciding that it was exactly what he was expecting. He set your backpack down by your desk then pulled out your desk chair, planting himself in it, making himself at home the only way Eddie knew how to do. 

He opened up your backpack and pulled out your book, splaying them out of your desk before turning to you, resting his hands on his lap. He patted the spot, inviting you to take a seat and you hesitantly made your way towards him. You turned your back to him and gingerly sat in his lap before he turned the chair back around to face the desk. 

“So what’s first?” He asked as he rested his chin on your shoulder, looking down at your assignments that were on the desk in front of the both of you. You usually liked doing your homework, but this time, you had no interest in it. 

You wanted to lie next to him in your bed, to have him pressed against you while you stared into his eyes as you played with his hair. You then wanted to kiss him. Nothing crazy, just a little peck. And then he’d chase your lips, deciding that he needed more. And then the two of you would make out for hours, your homework completely forgotten. 

“Sweetheart?” He asked, his hands moving up and down your waist gently, trying to get your attention. Mission accomplished. 

“Hm?” You asked, avoiding his eye contact, knowing that if you looked at him you’d do something that you knew you shouldn’t have. That would have changed your friendship forever and you couldn’t risk losing him because you couldn’t keep your hormones in check.

“I was wondering what you wanted to do first.” His hands were still rubbing against your hips and your mind was reeling of all the things he could have done with those hands. His rough fingers gliding up your soft thighs as he kissed you senseless, but stopping there since he knew that you weren’t comfortable with going any farther. 

“Um,” now your brain was short circuiting. There was no way you could focus on anything being that close to him. Feeling his breath on your skin, smelling his cologne that was mixed with the cigarette smoke that lingered on all of his clothing. It was absolutely intoxicating and driving you mad. 

You pushed away from the desk to free yourself then stood up, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. He had to go and right then. Your feelings for him were getting overwhelming now that you were alone with him and you were starting to feel sick to your stomach, seeing the worried look on his face. 

You turned to face your window, not wanting him to see you like that. It was all too embarrassing. That you had fallen for the boy who you thought was out of your league. The one who definitely only saw you as a friend and now you were mistaking his niceness for attraction and there was no way in hell that was what was going on between the two of you. 

“Y/n?” Eddie asked softly as he approached you gently, as if he was trying to show a spooked animal that he wasn’t a threat. He was blaming himself for your sudden mood change. He had gone too far by asking you to sit in his lap and now he had made you uncomfortable. 

His hand gently rested on your shoulder and you whipped around, putting your hands out as if to tell him to back up. He put his hands up in defense and did what he assumed you were silently asking. 

“Stay back,” you commanded, your voice the loudest he had ever heard and now he knew that he had fucked up. God, he was always screwing up and now he was sure that you were going to kick him out and never invite him back. You’d tell him that he didn’t need to pick you up anymore and you’d stop coming to the DnD sessions. And you’d stop sitting with him and the others at lunch, finding another group to sit with. And it’d be easy for you because you were so likable and a sweetheart.

“What’s going on?” He asked, his voice now getting small. “What did I do?” 

You had no idea why he was asking that. He hadn’t done anything wrong. You were the problem and now you felt even worse for allowing him to believe that it was his fault. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “I-I just need you to leave, okay?”

“Y/n, what-” he tried to speak, but you were making a beeline for him, pushing him towards the door. So this really was the beginning of the end. Your friendship really was. 

“What are you doing? Why are you kicking me out?” Eddie sounded so hurt that you had to tune him out, not wanting your heart to break any more than it already had. 

“Because you have to go. I can’t have you here.”

“Why?” You made the mistake of looking into his eyes and could have sworn that you could hear your heart crack as you saw the sadness take over the pretty brown color, the absolutely heartbroken look on his face. Why did he have to make it even harder to say goodbye? 

But you still opened the door and pushed him into the hallway, watching dejection take over his features. You couldn’t stand to look at him anymore and it was getting frustrating that he wouldn’t just leave. 

“Because I can’t look at you without wondering what your lips would feel like against mine. I can’t stop wondering what it’s like to be cuddled up with you on the couch as we watch a horror movie, knowing that you’ll let me bury my head into your neck when they get too scary. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you reciprocated my feelings, but you don’t so you have to go.” 

With that, you slammed the door in his face and waited for him to come back. To tell you that you were wrong and that he did love you. But he didn’t. You just stared at the closed door, feeling tears well up in your eyes as the seconds passed, further proving that he wasn’t coming. 

You turned away from the door and stared out your window, watching the leaves fall from the trees, wondering why you had to go and fuck everything up. If you hadn’t said a word and just pushed down your feelings, Eddie would have still been there. Your friendship would have still been intact and you wouldn’t have been crying because you had fucked up. 

The door was ripped open and Eddie made a beeline for you, grabbing you by the wrist and turning you around to face him. Before you could even process what was happening, his lips were slotting between yours in a passionate kiss. You gasped into his mouth, but quickly melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his went to your waist. 

Your lips slotted together like two puzzle pieces and his were a little chapped, but still as soft as you had imagined. You honestly couldn’t believe it was happening. That after months of pining for him, he had actually reciprocated your feelings. That you were both standing in your room, kissing, and it was everything you had dreamed it would be. 

“Please don’t kick me out again,” he whispered against your lips. “I love you so much that I can't stand being away from you.” 

“I won’t,” you whispered. “Stay as long as you like.”

Eddie’s lips found yours again and this time, his tongue swiped along the seam of your lips and you quickly opened up, letting him inside as you pulled him towards you even more so that your bodies were touching, wanting to leave absolutely no space between the two of you.

“Strawberry,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“What?” You asked through a breath, having no idea what he was talking about. 

“Your lip gloss,” he replied, reaching up and pushing some hair behind your ear. “It tastes like strawberry.” 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Want another taste?”

“Of course,” he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips and you pouted at how short it was. “Already can’t get enough of me, hm?” He chuckled. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m going to need to kiss you all the time now.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled again, resting his hands against your cheeks. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” With that, he pressed another kiss to your lips, that being your third of many of the night. And even though there were plenty more where that came from, he still felt the need to savor them, wanting to go as slow as he could just so he had more time. Now that he had a little taste, he just knew that he was going to be kissing you any chance he got.

[lovebugism]

omggg im craving a halloween themed , rockstar!eddie x shy!reader at a halloween party , matching costumes and everything & he sees a ton of guys hitting on her & is like ???? my baby?

here you go lovie! hope you like it! — eddie takes his girl to a bar on halloween and gets jealous when guys hit on you like you're not already his (shy!reader, rockstar!eddie, established relationship, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The world didn’t know you before today.

You’ve been just Eddie Spaghetti’s girlfriend for so long — but now you’re Eddie Munson, up-and-coming rockstar and lead of Corroded Coffin’s girlfriend. The title carries a certain weight with it. You wear it with pride, but it weighs you down just the same. 

What’s weird about tonight, though, is you’re not sharing Eddie with the rest of the world like you thought you would. He’s having to share you, because everyone and their goddamn brother’s been all over you all night. 

Apparently, your coquettish rendition of The Bride of Frankenstein is making everyone else as crazy as it’s making him.

“God, go save your girlfriend, Munson,” Gareth jokes across the booth, laughing into his drink as he watches yet another guy stop you at the bar. “At least one of these assholes is gonna steal her from you.”

“She’s not property, dude. She can’t get stolen,” Jeff scolds from beside him, then flashes Eddie a sheepish glance. “But, yeah, the odds aren’t in your favor, Eds.”

Eddie pays no mind to his friends’ teasing — or the anger swirling like fire in the pit of his stomach. 

“Nah. She’s alright…” he mumbles into the rim of his glass. The whiskey burns his throat going down. It doesn’t match the flame rising in his chest at the sight of his precious girl talking to some douchebag dressed like Elvis Presley.

He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t think you weren’t a hundred percent fine. These bozos aren’t trying anything with you — hell, they can barely make conversation with you. You’re just entertaining it because you’re the sweetest thing on the earth.

It’s laughable more than anything.

He’s humored by it all. Not jealous. Definitely not jealous.

“Yeah, who’s the famous one here, again?” Jeff’s girlfriend jokes. She’d left to go to the bathroom with you but came back alone when you got stuck with dollar-store Elvis. She points to the rest of them with a long, manicured finger. “It’s you guys, right? Because I can’t really tell.”

“Fuck off…” Eddie grouses, forcing a grin while the rest of them laugh.

You return then, with a drink in hand and a frown on your face at the sight of your suddenly grumpy boyfriend. “You okay?” you wonder quietly, smoothing down your skirt when you slide into the booth.

The boy moves over to make room for you. “‘M fine,” he answers with a mumble that makes you assume otherwise. 

You reach a hand to his face, smoothing fluffy curls behind his ear. His cheek is warm against your palm. His faded seafoam Frankenstein paint job smears on your wrist.

“‘M sorry for taking so long. Some guy stopped me on the way over. I didn’t wanna be rude.”

Eddie shakes his head. Not a single part of him blamed you.

“It’s okay, babe. Not your fault.” 

He’s full-on beaming now. Just because you called that asshole “some guy.” It feels good to hear you say that, to know that that’s all he is to you — just some fuckin’ guy. You won’t remember him later, if you still do even now.

Honestly, you’ll be lucky to remember your own name at the end of tonight.

“He get that drink for you?” Eddie asks, nodding to the frosted glass in your fist.

You shrug. “Yeah. He bought it, but I watched the bartender make it, so it’s fine.”

He nods, proud and sparkling with it. “Good.”

“What is it?” Gareth wonders, squinting across the table.

“An Old-Fashioned.”

“You hate whiskey,” Eddie laughs, licking the alcohol from the plush of his bottom lip.

“Well, yeah, but he asked what I liked, and I didn’t know what to say, so I just told him your favorite drink,” you ramble, all mousy, as you drag the falling sleeve of your corset back up your shoulder. 

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention.

Eddie’s grinning something fierce beside you. His chest swells with so much pride he thinks he might burst.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest fuckin’ thing?” he singsongs with a rosy grin, wrapping the ripped sleeve of his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. 

Then he kisses you. Like, really kisses you. 

It’s deep and intimate and sloppy. He opens your mouth with his and slithers his tongue inside. He tastes like bitter-sweet alcohol. You get drunk on him accordingly. 

The rest of the table gags.

Your lips click audibly when Eddie pulls away. His smile glistens with a mixture of your saliva, lips a deeper shade of pink and slightly swollen. You wipe your chin with the back of your mouth — some of Eddie’s face paint comes with it.

“Where’s he now?” the boy asks with a mischievous squint in his deep chocolate eyes.

You shrug, totally uncaring and just wanting to be kissed. “I dunno.”

“Still at the bar,” Gareth answers for you, snickering to himself. “Giving your girl the sex eyes.”

Your face screws up in disgust. “Sex eyes?” you repeat, nose scrunched.

The group laughs.

“Think you can get him to buy you a round? You know, for the table?” Eddie asks you. His fingers trace shapes on your bare shoulder. You have to fight back a shiver.

“You want me to go talk to him?” you gape, like you must’ve heard him wrong.

“I want you to go get us drinks, sweet thing. Work your magic, you know?”

He’s not in the most right headspace right now. You know this. He’s still high on the post-show adrenaline and mellow on the alcohol.  He’s jealous and in love with you and aflame with hatred for bootleg Elvis Presley. He gets rash when he’s raging, risky and unpredictable — a deadly concoction.

“Eds…” you hum quietly, brows scrunched like the idea pains you. “I don’t wanna make you mad…”

“You won’t make me mad, sweet thing,” Eddie assures, squeezing your shoulder. He presses a sanguine peck to your waiting mouth, then his voice gets all low. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll reward you after.”

He smacks one last kiss to your buzzing lips.

You blink at him until your senses return to you. You slide out from the booth and saunter back to Some Guy, who’s seemingly been waiting on your return this whole time. 

There’s a sudden sway to your hips now, but it’s not for him. 

It’s for Eddie.

The boy with the wild hair back at the booth, missing splotches of his face paint and wearing your lipstick knows this too.

[lavenderstobins]

Eddie’s in danger.

He knows he’s in danger because there is a four year old beelining for him, trying very hard to appear like she’s not rapidly advancing towards him.

When Josie finally stops, she’s right in front of him.

He has no idea what might’ve spurred this. Best to play it safe. “Hey, kiddo.”

Josie blinks innocently at him. “You broked Steve’s mug.”

Shit. The mug. It had been an accident—he’d balanced it too precariously when he’d been doing the dishes and it had slipped. They have plenty of mugs so it shouldn’t have been an issue, except… it was Steve’s lucky mug.

Steve loves that mug. He always drinks out of it if he needs the good luck that day and swears that it never fails him. If he sees it has broken, he’d take it as a sign of, like, the worst luck ever, and that would be the end of that.

The break had been clean, at least. The pieces are currently hidden away in a shoebox until he has time to get the glue to fix it. It’ll be an easy enough fix, so Steve should be none-the-wiser.

Except.

“The luck mug,” Josie continues, presumably trying to raise an eyebrow but instead raising both of her eyebrows high up her forehead. It takes everything inside him not to snort at the sight.

“I’m fixing it,” he replies. Maybe this can be a lesson about white lies, or doing good, or something. There’s probably a lesson here, right? “Steve won’t know it ever broke.”

Josie blinks up at him again. “Be shame if he did.”

Eddie’s smile fades. “What?”

“Be shame if Steve knew you broked his mug,” she repeats, fixing him with a stare that’s oddly reminiscent of Erica.

Is he… is he being blackmailed by a child?

“Josie,” he starts, leaning forward so that they’re eye-to-eye and taking on a desperate tone. “You can’t tell Steve, okay? Nobody can know about the broken mug.”

She sighs heavily. It would be comical if not for the way his heartbeat has increased.

“I know,” she says, shaking her head. “But maybe I not know.”

“Don’t know,” he corrects, then squints. “What do you mean?”

“I know you broked his mug, Deedee.” Her tone is serious. “For Baby Sapphire, I not know. Baby Sapphire make it go—” She mimes an explosion with her hands, puffing out her cheeks. “Bye-bye.”

“Baby— What?”

Josie pulls out a crumpled catalogue page out of her pocket and holds it out. On it, in the corner, is a small, bug-eyed, blue plastic horse labelled Baby Sapphire. It’s the ugliest thing he’s ever seen. The nose isn’t even long enough for the horse to breathe. It’s like the pug of ponies.

Eddie looks up, meeting Josie’s pointed stare. It’s a battle he knows he’s already lost.

“Not a word,” he instructs, tucking the paper into his pocket. Josie brightens, beaming up at him, then skips away, merry as ever.

This is his life now. Blackmailed by a preschooler.

—

“Did you know Josie’s resorted to blackmail now?” Eddie says offhandedly. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter as Steve chops carrots, watching Josie play with her new toy from his view of the living room doorway.

“Earlier than I expected, honestly,” Steve says, not looking up. “What did she have on you?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, not on me.” Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “I watched her extort Mike earlier.”

Steve glances at him, frowning. “Mike’s been out of Hawkins for two days.”

Fuck.

“I think Robin’s calling for me, actually.” Eddie slides off the counter, backing away as Steve’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “I’d love to continue this conversation, but, duty calls.”

“Robin’s out with Max!” Steve calls as Eddie makes a hasty retreat to the living room. “You’re fooling nobody, babe!”

Josie looks up as Eddie closes the door behind him, ugly horse in hand. Moments later, Steve opens the door again, one hand on his hip.

“What did you do?” He swivels from Eddie to Josie. “Josie, sweetie, what did Deedee do?”

Eddie stares at Josie, practically feeling the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Josie shrugs, still playing. “I no know.”

He’s filled with relief. Steve doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure?” he presses. “It’s important to tell the truth, Josie.”

She stops, then, squinting up at him. “Always?”

“Always,” Steve confirms.

“Like when you said Bel eated Mama’s food but it was you?”

Steve falters, mouth falling open. A huge grin spreads across Eddie’s face.

“You what?” Eddie asks delightedly. “Stevie, you didn’t blame our cat for eating Robin’s leftovers!”

“Okay, you know what?” Steve holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back. “Keep your secrets. Let’s not ask questions anymore.”

Eddie’s already laughing, though. “Steve, Rob almost took Bel to the vet because she thought she’d eaten fried rice.”

“I know!”

“And you offered to drive her there!”

“I know!”

—

[now on ao3]

[corroded-hellfire]

My gorgeous soulmate. The love of my life. I can’t stop thinking about Reader waiting for a ride and accidentally overhearing Eddie talking to the Hellfire guys about some beautiful girl and how he’s afraid to ask her out. Reader assumes it’s someone else and leaves because she’s upset and doesn’t want him to see her. Bonus points for wingman Dusty Bun, but not necessary. Okay love you byeeeeee xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Hello, my darling dearest. I hope you enjoy this and I love you too! 💕

Words: 1.5k

Band practice ran late, but that didn’t matter one bit. Your older brother was always running behind to pick you up, leaving you the lone person sitting outside the school, waiting. Usually, you had a book with you, but you’d finished your last one and hadn’t gotten a chance to check a new one out of the library today. Honestly, the fierce autumn wind may have prevented you from reading anyway; the pages would be obeying Mother Nature, not you. The wind whistles and whips so viciously that you slide off of the brick wall you’re sitting on top of and seat yourself on the cold sidewalk, pressing as close to the wall as you can to avoid the harsh blowing.

Luckily, the gust eases up and you only end up having four leaves stuck to your clothing. As you’re picking them from your gray sweater, you hear the telltale squeak of the main doors of the school opening. Your brow creases in confusion because you didn’t realize anyone else was here this late. The dark evening has your mind floating back to the dozens of slasher movies you’ve seen that started with this very scenario. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you tuck your legs up against your body as you hug your backpack to your chest.

“Damn Eddie, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Nancy’s brother maybe? Right! He’s in Hellfire with Eddie Munson, who must be the Eddie he’s speaking to. An involuntary smile curls on your lips at the boy you’re head over heels for being just a few feet away. The closer they get, the easier it is for you to hear the thunk of the metalhead’s boots coming down the sidewalk. 

“Ugh, I know,” Eddie says, a hint of a whine in his happy-go-lucky voice. “But she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach sour, churning at hearing Eddie talk this way about some girl. He’s not doing anything wrong, and logically you know that. He doesn’t owe you anything. But irritation bubbles up in you as a defense from the heartbreak you’re desperately trying to run away from. Your fingers dig into your backpack as you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from leaking out.

“Ask her out!” That voice was Jeff’s—from your history class.

Eddie scoffs and you can just picture him shaking his head, his frizzy curls swaying back and forth. The thought of Eddie asking a girl out forces the hot tears to leak down your face, despite how tightly you’ve been keeping them closed. 

“Like she would want to go out with me,” he says. 

Now your heart also breaks for Eddie. Who could be so stupid as to not want to go out with him?

“Aww, I think you’re scared,” another voice goads. Probably the curly-haired boy that’s friends with the Wheeler boy. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says. “I’m just…afraid.”

“That’s the same thing!” Wheeler says before you hear a thump and the boy mutters an, “Ow!”

“Shut it, Wheeler. I don’t want to hear shit from you or Henderson on girls. Both of your girls live far away. Huh, kind of convenient, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “They’re probably as real as the damn hair on top of Higgin’s head.”

“Hey!” Wheeler shouts.

“That’s bullshit!” the boy who must be Henderson shouts at the same time.

“You guys are letting him change the subject,” Jeff says. “When are you going to ask her out?”

Instead of giving an answer, you can hear Eddie grumbling under his breath the closer they get to you. It won’t be long now before they’ll walk past the wall and see you sitting on the ground. Waiting for a ride is easy enough to explain, but the tear tracks running down your face are a different matter. 

Before the group of guys can get any closer, you carefully push yourself onto your knees. Balancing yourself against the wall with one hand, you seek out somewhere you can hide. The corner of the wall is pretty far away, you’d never be able to crawl there fast enough. If you stand up though, you could walk that distance. Realizing crouching down so far is going to kill your back, you push up to your feet and keep your torso and head low as you speedwalk to the corner of the wall. 

Luckily, it’s just a grassy lawn on the other side of the wall, so you throw yourself down on it and catch your breath. Unluckily, you hear the piercing whine of your brother’s car pulling up towards Hawkins High. Fuck. Of course he comes now. 

You peek out from your safe space around the wall and see that Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang are climbing into Eddie’s van. A rush of breath leaves your lungs and you’re sure your adrenaline is about to come crashing down.

Your brother pulls up to the curb and you push yourself off of the grass and quickly slide into the passenger’s seat. 

“Uh, you okay?” your brother asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you huff. “Just go.”

Like the piece of gum you’d stepped in last week, the sharp pains in your heart stay with you much longer than you’d like. The next day, right before last period, you’re at your locker, switching out your books and hoping your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel.

“Uh, hey.”

The voice makes you jump and drop your biology book. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is; you’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just never been so close to your ear before.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says as he bends down to pick up your book. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you manage to say as you turn around to face him. “Thank you,” you say as he gives you your science book back. 

Eddie clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before looking back at you—or rather, your shoes. Curious, you follow the line of sight where Eddie had just looked, and you see the curly-haired boy from Hellfire peeking around the corner. Henderson. As soon as he notices you looking, he pops back out of sight. 

“I, uh,” Eddie says as he finds the courage to meet your eye. “Hey.”

“You said that,” you say with a shy smile. “But then I freaked out, so…hi.”

The smile Eddie gives you isn’t his biggest by far, but it still makes your knees go wobbly. 

“You’re in band, right?” Eddie asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. 

“I am.”

“Yeah. So, I was wondering if maybe after the game this Friday you might want to grab a bite to eat? With, um, me?”

The world freezes around you, time completely stopping. Your body is locked in place as you stare at Eddie with wide eyes. He just asked me out, you think. Why would he ask me out? He thinks that other girl is beauti—holy shit. I’m the beautiful girl he was talking about? This defies all that you thought you knew in the world. Is this a parallel universe where guys actually like you back? You realize you’ve just been staring at him since you spoke.

“Yeah. T-That sounds nice,” you say.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes light up and your heart comes to a halt inside your chest.

“Yes,” you say with a small chuckle.

“Wow. Awesome. Okay, wow.” His disbelief shocks you. How in the hell was he afraid to ask you out? You’re just…you. He gives you a wider grin now before tugging up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” You grab a pen from your locker and write down your number on Eddie’s pale skin, right below a colony of inked bats. 

“Great,” Eddie says as he pulls his sleeve back down. “Um, I’ll wait in the gym after the game?”

“Sure. It’ll only take me a few minutes to change and get everything put away.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says again, and seeing him acting this nervous just tickles you pink. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him say “awesome” before and now he’s said it twice within the last minute. “I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Eddie, wait. You’re going to go to the game?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Oh. Well, I do,” he says with a chuckle. “Easier to take you out after the game if I’m there, though. And, uh, you know, Sinclair’s been bugging me to come see him play.”

“Right,” you say. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light red as he gives you a bashful smile. 

“See you later, beautiful,” he says. He doesn’t give you time to even react to his words before he’s heading down the hall. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. “I make Eddie nervous?”

A jovial giggle slips past your lips as you close your locker. You feel like you owe the Hellfire guys a thank you. 

[munsonluhvr]

ohhhh and i honestly need more professor!eddie x student!reader

imagine he’s her professor. he’s like 39 and she’s 19. and just a hot secret affair ahhh.. where she’s the one to intend this relationship first like seducing him and all and getting fucked on the desk all the time!! he sometimes has to hold her mouth shut because she’s so loud!!

SCHOOL GIRL CRUSH

a/n: thank u so much for another amazing request. I hope u like it! I loved writing this sm, im tempted to write a part two in the future.

synopsis: professor!eddie munson x student!reader. unable to resist your professor munson, you begin seducing him, making every visit to his office hours productive. lucky for you, all your efforts pay off in the end. word count - 4.7k warnings: 18+, explicit content // age gap relationship, throat fucking, p in v, cum eating, fingering, finger sucking.

Your ears are numb to the sound of your classmates engaging with Professor Munson, answering his questions eagerly to please the young and handsome teacher. You’re trapped in your own mind as you imagine Professor Munson bending you over his desk, his ungraded essays cluttered underneath your upper body. You imagine your thighs shivering and growing goosebumps as his fingertips graze your legs, hooking his pointer fingers onto your panties and pulling your undergarment down as slow as possible… 

“Are you listening, y/n?” Professor Munson asks as he leans against his long wooden desk, his legs crossed in front of him. You sit in the front row, of course, to be able to gain his attention. Your legs are outstretched in front of you and Professor Munson taps your foot with his. “Care to share what you’re day dreaming about with the rest of the class?” 

You blush, shaking your head quickly. “I wasn’t daydreaming, I was listening.” You lean forward on your desk, resting your elbow on the tabletop, your hand cupping your chin. Bending at the waist, you push your chest forward, allowing Professor Munson to get a front-row view of your breasts that are supported by your bra. 

Professor Munson, or Eddie which is what he allows you to call him in his office hours, lets his eyes dip to your exposed chest but he catches himself quickly, coughing into a close fist. “I see; let’s switch to talking about the book we read last week that we didn’t get to talk about.” He says to the class.

 You sit in the small classroom, your other classmates scattered about the room; there’s only about fifth teen of you, the classroom big enough to fit at least thirty students. Above the chalkboard is a clock that ticks rhythmically, and you watch for the next ten minutes as the class talks amongst themselves. Today was the day you’d go for the kill, feeling as if you and Professor Munson were playing a cat and mouse game since the beginning of the semester. 

Professor Munson was young, probably in his mid to late thirties, and incredibly attractive. Though he was physical attractive, an angelic face with soft features that combine to create a beautiful face, Professor Munson also had a ‘swagger’ about himself, a confidence that you could sense from a mile away. He never dressed, nor acted, like any of your other professors, he wore black ripped jeans, various metal band t-shirts and utilized an informal teaching style.  Nonetheless you enjoyed Professor Munson’s class, though you had to admit, you had an agenda. You wanted to fuck him. 

It all started in the beginning of the semester when you first walked into the classroom. You were automatically enamored by Eddie, easily charmed by his charisma and good looks. It was then and there where you began developing a plan, each week bringing you a step closer to today. 

Over the first two months of the semester, you had frequented his office hours, finding that even though the other girls in the class giggled about how cute he was, nobody went to his office hours leaving you hours to occupy his time. Professor Munson welcomed it happily: at first he quizzed you about the class readings, forcing you to engage with the conversations that happened during class. Though as the weeks went on, your meetings became more personal, and he started to ask you about your background, where you’re from, what your family is like. You were able to get some answers out of Eddie as well; it was fair game after all.

For a while you weren’t able to figure out if Eddie was understanding your motives, or if he found you as attractive as you found him. If he did, he kept it well hidden as a university Professor should. However, the last few meetings you had gave you no doubt in your mind that now was the time to try, to attempt to discover uncharted territory of what is Eddie’s body.  

Two weeks ago, you had visited office hours in hopes of getting your midterm essay edited with suggestions from Eddie; why not try to improve your grade while trying to get fucked? You were planning on making it a quick visit, meant to leave Eddie with dirty thoughts about you. You had worn your shortest skirt, barely covering the paisley patterned panties you wore, a long-sleeved t-shirt with the three buttons at the top completely unbuttoned. With ease, and all the casualty in the world, you brought your paper, printed and paperclipped together, to Eddie’s office, coming around the side of his desk to drop it in front of him. 

“Thank you so much for looking at my paper before the deadline, I just want to make sure I get it right,” you had said, your eyes soft and doe eyed. 

Eddie nodded slightly, his eyes drifting from your face down to your completely bare thighs. “O-Of course, Miss y/n. I’m happy to though I’m sure there’s not much to be corrected.”  You spied his hands resting on his desk, and you took the opportunity to make skin on skin contact. 

You placed your hand on top of his, feeling the coolness of his silver rings that were scattered across his long fingers. You laugh softly, the reverberation causing your breasts to jiggle on your chest. “You’re so kind to me, Professor Munson.” Your fingers curled around his soft hand, and you let it rest there, taunting Eddie to almost say ‘See? You could have all this. Come find out.’ There’s no doubt in your mind, standing in his office, all alone, barely clothed, that he wanted to jump you, lifting that tiny skirt you wore to bunch up at your midsection.

Eddie’s eyes flickered to where your hands rested together and he coughed, rolling his chair under his desk to hide his lower half. You bit your lip, hoping that a boner was what he was attempting to conceal as he pushed his bottom half under his desk. You lift your hand off of his, stepping away from the side of your desk. “I’ll come to your office hours next week to see what you thought of my research?” 

Eddie nods, his eyes no longer looking to make contact with yours. “See you then.” 

The following week you had done what you said you would, making an appearance in his office hours for the thousandth time. You had begun to grow a confidence that was reassuring, probably contributing to your delusions: a professor could never let himself fuck a student, right? Not in your world. You played innocent, pretending as if you didn’t know what you were doing as leaned across Eddie’s cluttered desk to grasp your paperclipped essay with his suggestions scribbled across it, your breasts on full display. You pretended to not know Eddie was watching as you ‘accidently’ dropped your paper on the way out of his office, making of a show of bending down to show your ass that was fitted in a lace thong – and also pretended not to understand why Eddie gasped, then coughed, as you took a moment to pick up your papers that were scattered across the entrance of his office. When you were away from his office, sauntering down the hallway, you just had to pat yourself on the back for the show you just put on. ‘Damn, I’m good at this.’ You thought to yourself, a smug smile playing across your mouth. Eddie was beginning to be just where you wanted him. 

“Well, I think we’ll leave it there for this week. Make sure to follow the syllabus and read what’s required for next week,” Professor Munson said, continuing to lean against his desk. “I’ll wait around if anyone has any questions.” 

You were slow to gather your things, tucking them all away into your backpack. You peeked around you to watch the last of your classmates filter out into the busy hallway. At last, it was just you and Eddie. 

“Professor Munson, I have a question.” You say, standing up from your seat. Oddly, you were nervous, your fingers trembling, your voice wavering. Perhaps you are afraid of rejection. 

Eddie hums, his eyes flickering to where you stand. “What can I do for you, y/n?” 

‘So much’ you think. “Well, I just feel like I’m not following the discussion in class. As if reading all the material isn’t enough to understand what we’re talking about. Perhaps I need a more hands-on approach?” You say, stepping forward to where Eddie rests against his desk. 

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Eddie says, his arms uncrossing from in front of his chest to holding him up against the desk. “A hands-on approach?” 

You bite your lip, nodding as you step closer to him again, continuing to close the gap that exists between you and your professor. “Something more.. intimate, perhaps?” You let your backpack drop to the ground, freeing your hands. You wear a zip up hoodie that’s cropped at the waist, though underneath it your skin becomes slick with sweat and nervousness. You make a show of unzipping it slowly, the sound echoing through the classroom. Outside, students shout and chatter as they walk to their next class and for a moment you’re afraid of someone walking in. 

Eddie’s eyes watch closely as your fingers work to unzip your hoodie, then shrug it off, dropping it on top of where your backpack lays across the linoleum floor. “A-Are you referring to when I called you out for daydreaming because, of course, our minds can’t stay occupied on a single topic for a long time; studies have proven that.” Eddie says, beginning to ramble. His adams apple bobs at the front of his throat, his voice quivering. 

You smile, cocking your head to the side. Crossing your arms in front of you, you take the hem of your shirt into your fingers, lifting up and off with ease. “I’m not talking about that. I think I just need some lessons; you know?” Confidence courses through your veins, pushing the disbelief that you were stripping your clothes off for your college professor into the back of your mind. 

Eddie says nothing, his eyes watching every movement you make. His mouth gapes open slightly, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He knows he shouldn’t be sitting against his desk watching, he should be stopping you, but he can’t move, his mind in a trance watching you, his student, bare yourself in front of him. 

You watch closely, analyzing Eddie’s facial expressions. You interpret his face as shocked, bewildered. You decide to take it another step further, reaching behind you with both hands to unclip your bra, freeing your breasts that you’ve been taunting him with. Left in only your skirt and tennis shoes, you step once more to Eddie, finally close enough to reach out and touch him. 

Your fingers play against his face, your fingertips beginning to trace his features. To your surprise, his hands reach out to grip your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your skirt. Eddie maneuvers you between his legs, bringing you almost nose to nose with him. The sensation of Eddie holding on to you makes your core begin to tighten, knowing he’s finally beginning to lean into game you’ve been playing. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Eddie says, his brown eyes watching as the pad of your thumb brushes against his bottom lip. You lean forward, letting your lips hover over his. “Oh, but you know you want to, Professor Munson. I know I want to,” You say, your nose nudging into his as you let your lips get closer and closer to his. 

Eddie swallows, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue creating a tender, painful boner to form against the tightness of his jeans. He wants to so bad, ever since you walked into office hours for the first time. So, innocent you were, though Eddie was no fool – he knew it was all an act. The way you were just barely an adult, only nineteen, his young pupil, yet you had the confidence and sexual charm of a grown woman. He had fallen right into your trap, a willing victim. 

Without hesitation, you let your lips gently intertwine with Eddie’s, each movement soft and delicate. Eddie hesitates at first, your lips moving against his as his mouth remains stiff though he isn’t able to refrain for long, the feeling of your soft lips against his, the sweetness of your mouth flowing into his forced him to give in. Eddie’s hands begin to move lower down your body, his hands finding their way underneath your skirt. Before he pulls your panties down, letting the drop to your ankles, he lets his fingertips drag against your cunt, feeling the way your pulsing clit is pressed against the fabric of your undergarments. To you, the feeling makes your eyes roll back, the pressure of Eddie’s fingers pressing against your most sensitive parts making your knees weak. You whine against his mouth, letting your arms wrap around his shoulders to press your bare front into his. 

It takes everything in Eddie to refrain from pulling your panties down abruptly, flipping you face down onto his desk when you whine against his mouth. Slow and steady; Eddie wants to relish every minute he’s under your spell.  Instead, Eddie pushes the fabric of your panties to the side, letting your moistness to be revealed. You drip around his fingers, your body preparing itself for his arrival. Eddie’s breath hitches when he feels how slick your cunt is, how turned on you are from merely his presence, just from a minute or so of kissing. Eddie’s stomach twists with guilt, knowing his interaction with you goes against every university code of conduct, though he couldn’t care less. With a swift movement, he lets his pointer and middle finger plunge into you, your wet core swallowing his digits whole. 

This time, the feeling of Eddie pushing his fingers inside of you causes you to moan loudly, throwing your head back, eyebrows knitted together with building frustration. Eddie takes the opportunity, now that your lips are detached, to leave a trail of gentle kisses down your chest, centering right between your breasts. With his free hand, Eddie cups your breast, letting his mouth envelop your hardened nipple.  You hand grips Eddie’s upper arm tightly as the tip of his tongue flicks across your nipple, sending a spark across your chest, your eyes pinching shut with pleasure. In a rhythmic motion, Eddie’s fingers move in and out of your cunt, your wetness from arousal beginning to drip down your inner thighs, and down the back of Eddie’s hand, down his forearm. 

Your thighs began to tremble against Eddie’s movements, his long fingers fluttering inside you, immediately attracted to the weakest spot inside of you. You feel pressure beginning to build inside your lower abdomen, the aching feeling of needing Eddie’s cock inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut; your body overwhelmed with the feeling of pleasure caused by Eddie’s thick fingers. 

You’re caught off guard when you’re moved quickly, now the one sitting against the hardwood desk, Eddie standing above you. You frown at the feeling of emptiness in your cunt, Eddie’s fingers going missing. Through your eyelashes at Eddie, your lips in a small pout. Eddie lingers above you, his tall stature seeming even taller as you sit at the edge of his desk, the hard edge digging into the softness of your ass. 

Eddie’s eyes gaze at you admiringly, his hand reaching out to touch your face in the manor you had touched his, his fingertips attending to all your soft yet beautiful features. The world around you slows to a vibrant hum, the hallways no empty, all the other students off to their next classes. You stare back at Eddie, feeling tension hang in the air similar to how humidity hangs in the air on a hot summer day. Thick and heavy. Slowly, his fingers come to a stop, his eyes never leaving your face. The pad of his thumb brushes the bottom of your lip then pushes between your lips. You part your lips, eyes wide as Eddie places his thumb on your tongue, your lips puckering around his finger. Your eyes flutter closed again, his finger moving in and out of your mouth as you suck gently on his digit, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin. 

“Such a good girl,” Eddie whispers, his voice shuddering as he feels your mouth enclose around his finger. “Such a bright student.” 

You can’t help but smile, the sound of Eddie complimenting you causing heat to creep up your neck to the apples of your cheeks. You sigh against his finger, letting your tongue cradle his thumb. Your clit begins to pulse, the anticipation beginning to kill you softly. Your eyes flutter open, letting your hands reach out to grasp his lower half, your fingers working to unbuckle his black, leather belt. Next, you pull down his fly, revealing a few inches of dark grey boxers, the outline of his cock growing more evident by the second. You let your fingers creep across the band of his jeans, using your upper arm strength to begin to tug downwards. 

Eddie pulls his thumb out of your mouth, stepping back to allow you the space to pull his pants and boxers down. You push yourself off the edge of the desk, kneeling down on the floor, in front of Eddie, to pull his pants down to his calves. Satisfyingly, Eddie’s thick cock bounces free from the confines of his jeans, his pink tip at your eye-level. With no hesitation, nor second thoughts, you take his cock into your hand, your mouth opening to welcome him down your throat. Eddie’s member bulges as you guide him gently down the canal of your throat, your lips puckering in a way that that’s you engulf him. You feel him shudder underneath your touch, his eyes pinching shut, his hand finding its way into the thickness of your hair. His fingers intertwine in your hair, allowing Eddie a good grip to guide you how he pleases. 

Eddie is only the second person you’ve ever fucked, though your positive the first time barely counts. And he’s certainly the biggest cock you’ve ever dealt with, surely ever seen. Your eyes begin to water as your throat expands to fit him inside, your throat walls beginning to ache at the work it has to do to fit him. Nonetheless, you move back and forth, tears beginning to threaten to spill over onto your cheeks, Eddie moving seamlessly in your mouth. Eddie begins to thrust gently into your mouth, his body moving in autopilot as he responds to the pleasure you provide by giving him head. You whimper and moan as he utilizes your throat in just the way he likes, Eddie deciding what temp you move at, as you hold onto his thighs for balance. 

Eddie feels himself getting nearly close, though he has no intention of finishing now. He wants his time with you to last even longer. Eddie backs his hips away from your mouth, letting his cock slip out of your mouth, a single spit string attached at the tip of his cock to your mouth. He leans forward, gripping his hand tightly around your upper arm and lifting you off the ground. With authority, he spins to around, pushing you towards the wooden desk again. Placing a hand on the middle of your back, he pushes you forward, legs pressed against the front of the desk, upper torso bent across the classroom desk. Your eyes and fists squeeze together tightly, the anticipation of feeling Eddie pushed inside of you leaving you on the very edge. You’ve waited for this moment for months. All your wildest fantasies coming true. 

Eddie gently kicks your ankles, spreading your legs apart further, gathering both of your wrists into his hands, behind your back. He leans forward, hovering near your ear. “You’re so beautiful, y/n.” Eddie says, his voice low. “I knew you were special when you walked into my classroom at the beginning of the semester – so perky, so eager to please.” 

You nod against the desk, feeling the muscles in your shoulder begin to burn from Eddie holding your wrists behind your back. “I wanted to be a good student, Professor Munson. The best one you ever had.” 

You hear the sound of Eddie moving behind you, feel the softness of his skin as he presses himself against you, his throbbing cock getting closer to your cunt. With his hand, Eddie guides his tip against your entrance. “How do you want it?” 

Truthfully, you wanted it every and any way. “Hard, rough. I want you so bad, I’ve been thinking about this for so long, Professor Munson. Please, I just want to be fucked.” 

Eddie can’t help it anymore, the sound of you practically begging for him, the way your voice contorts into a whine. It’s the hottest sound he believes he’ll ever hear. He lines himself up with you, his tip grazing your cunt. You sigh loudly, the feeling of him teasing your throbbing cunt makes your legs shiver and become weak. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, feeling like he could come all over your bare ass, the sight of you bending forward across his desk just enough to do the trick. But he refrains. With one hand, he spreads your ass cheeks apart, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Eddie’s heart beats against his chest, his fingers trembling with anticipation as he eases himself into you. Your slick cunt envelopes Eddie’s cock, tightening around him as he begins to thrust into you. His eyes roll back into his head, the feeling of you causing him to lose his breath. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, a whine escaping your lips. Your arms extend from behind your back out to the side, gripping onto the desk. “Oh fuck, Eddie.” You mumble, sighing as you speak. Your body goes from tense to slack, the feeling of Eddie rutting into you bringing you pure pleasure. “Keep going, don’t stop.” 

Eddie nods, though he knows you can’t see him. His body moves into you rhythmically, his cock driving entirely into you. Eddie watches for a moment, the way his cock moves into you slowly, your cunt swallowing him whole, and how when he pulls back, his cock is drenched in your arousal. He can’t help but moan in disbelief. 

As Eddie takes you from behind, his motions are slow and even, though your body begins to crave more as the seconds pass. You feel Eddie’s long fingers drip your hip bones; his fingernails blunt against your skin. Needing the feeling of Eddie moving through you at a faster pace, you begin to roll your hips against him, essentially using his cock to fuck yourself. Eddie’s eyes widen, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip, as he watches you move against him. “Such a good girl, y/n.” Eddie says, leaning over to brush your hair that has gathered in front of your face. He watches as your face softens; your lips parting as little breaths escape your mouth. “Yes, Professor Munson,” you mumble, your cheeks flushing with a soft pink. 

Your back arches, your bottom lifting higher into the air. You squirm underneath Eddie’s grip, his stance holding you in place as he takes over thrusting into you. Eddie feels his knees becoming weak, the sensation of his core tightening in his lower abdomen causing him to flinch. Eddie would love nothing to more than to come into you, thick ropes of his cum filling your cunt, giving him the opportunity to watch it drip out of you. He chooses to refrain, knowing that getting a student pregnant would be worse than fucking a student. As Eddie fantasizes about all the places he wants to come on you, he senses your legs tremble underneath him, your arms extending reaching out across the table, gripping the edge. “Yes,” your voice coos. “Right there.” You clench around Eddie’s cock, your core burning as if you’ve touched the sun, legs trembling as you reach a peak, an intense wave bringing your orgasm through your body, straight down to your toes. 

Eddie watches mystified, the way your body shudders underneath his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, soft sighs and whines echoing across the empty classroom. Just you and him. Eddie is sure your orgasming, all because of his touch, is the most beautiful sight, pretty enough to be a historical painting, hung in the Louvre. 

After a moment, your body relaxes again, becoming limp as sweat collects across your body and in your hairline. Eddie pulls himself out of you, reaching to grab your forearm. With his strength, he pulls you across the desk, bringing you to your knees in front of him. For the first time in several moments, and he gets a look at your weathered face. Your lips are red and puckered, dried spit across your cheek. Your eyes are glassy, red rimming your eyes, black mascara smudged under your eyes. Your cheeks are flushed, pieces of your hair clinging to your face. You look tired, exhausted, yet you’re still so eager to please, your hands beginning to move towards Eddie’s cock that rests at your eye level. You lick your lips, missing the flavor of him inside your mouth. 

Eddie lets his fingers intertwine in your hair again, bringing you underneath his cock. You crouch down, looking up at Eddie through your eyelashes. You watch, arousal still collecting in your cunt, as Eddie strokes himself above you, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. “Come for me, Professor Munson. Let me find out how you taste.” 

Eddie’s eyes open, his eyes finding yours. Just then, ropes of cum dribble out of the tip of his cock, splashing onto your cheeks, across your nose. You lean up, resting your tongue just underneath his tip. In a slow flow, Eddie’s come dribbles onto your tongue, the sweet, yet salty, flavor causing your tastebuds to flair. You sigh, satisfaction playing across your face as you swallow Eddie’s load, more of his semen splattering your face as you do so. 

Once Eddie is finished, he’s out of breath, sweat causing dark spots across his ‘Metallica’ t-shirt. Eddie pulls his boxers and jeans up, glancing at you as he rights himself, zipping his fly and re-buckling his belt. You're slower to put your clothes on, liking the way it feels to have Eddie’s gaze on your naked body, his eyes taking in every curve of yours.  

Once you put your clothes back on, bending over to pick up your zip up hoodie and beginning to put your arms in the sleeve, Eddie coughs, standing awkwardly off to the side. “This can never happen again, y/n. This was a lapse in my judgment.” 

You pout, tossing him a glance. You bend over once more, picking your backpack up by one of the straps. “Professor Munson, please” you say, shaking your head. You run a hand through your hair, attempting to make it look as if you just didn’t get railed, by your professor, in a classroom. “We both know this is going to happen again, and again. Should I come to office hours next week?” 

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. Eddie knows it’s wrong to have relations with a student, likely to get him fired if anyone were to ever find out. But you were so enticing, irresistible. For a moment, Eddie wonders how many people you’ve been with. Where did you learn to be so appealing, to move your hips in such a way, pouting your lips and batting your lashes to draw in any man you please? Regardless, Eddie wants to know more about you, learn what else you want to do with him. “Yes, come to my office hours next week.” 

[radiosteve]

I Knew You

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

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

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

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drunk under a street light

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A friend to all is a friend to none 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

And you’d come back to me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You put me on and said I was your favorite

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[m0llygunn]

the alligator and the weirdo (eddie munson x fem!reader)

eddie shares some of his imaginative thoughts that he has during intimate moments

cw: 18+! mature language, smut, oral (f receiving), eddie being an absolute weirdo (affectionate) an: i was reading comments on an ig post months ago and there were so many guys who were talking about the alligator thing so yeah thanks random instagram guys for this idea wc: 2.2k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Wanna hear something that you’ll hate?” 

Turning your head, you look at Eddie laying the short distance away from you in the bed. The rubix cube that was keeping him busy has been tossed to the side and he smiles toothily at you, brows wiggling as he awaits your answer. Bad news— abort immediately.  

“No,” you answer flatly. You move your book to block his view of you but he quickly tugs it away, tucking it under his arm. 

“Well, apple of my eye, love of my life,” he starts, smiling wider than ever. You don't even bother trying to get your book back, you know it's no use. Mawkishly corny, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it and you know whatever he's about to say is going to be awful with the way he's working up to it. He looks up at you, “Today is your lucky day, because I’m going to tell you anyway,” he finishes. 

“Is it actually something I’m going to hate?” you sigh.

“Yes,” he smiles, thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand that he continues to hold, keeping it hostage in his grip.

You pause, desperately trying to read him. He doesn’t give much away, just that he’s up to no good. 

Unsure and honestly afraid, you tilt your head, “but is it going to piss me off?” you ask, needing a sincere answer. 

“You won’t be angry, per se” he replies, voice pitching up with his dramatics.

“Then why would I hate it?” you retort. 

He shrugs so boyishly you almost forget to keep up your attitude. “You’re just going to hate it,” he sings matter of factly. 

“Eddie,” you whine. He squeezes your hand to his chest, rolling his eyes at you playfully. 

Tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night, he promised you that. It was supposed to be quiet and chill– you were going to read, and he was going to… do something? Anything that he could do quietly. Obviously, he's changed his mind and has now resorted to teasing you. 

“Fine, fine, you got me— I’ll tell you,” he huffs as if you’ve threatened him. Dramatic, dramatic, dramatic.  

Speaking of dramatic, you swat him lightly for his antics, smacking your free hand to his chest and he overreacts, throwing his head back into the pillow with a pained howl. His face, scrunched up in faux pain, quickly changes to a desperate plea, eyes wide and brows turning up. 

“No! Please, I already said I’d tell you. Please, no need for violence— I’ll tell you!” he rushes out, putting his hands together in a prayer to you. With a shake of your head, disapproving his boisterous behaviour, you hold back your smile by biting your lip. 

“I’m going home,” you threaten. With your hand free from his grasp seeing as he has resorted to pleaing prayers, you move to roll over him to get off the bed. 

“No, you can’t!” he reacts quickly, grabbing both your wrists and pulling them to his chest, keeping you pulled taut against him. “You can’t go, I haven’t told you yet.”

“So spit it out,” you whine. 

“Fine,” he huffs with a played up annoyance. He rolls his eyes and you purse your lips in disbelief. Disbelief for the moment, disbelief for the mood he's in. 

“Just sit here, and I’ll tell you, okay?” he smirks, dropping his grasp on your wrists but quickly grabbing your legs, pulling at you until your knees bracket his hips and you’re straddling him. You don't resist, figuring that if it truly is something you hate, you'll have the extra leverage to throw yourself off the bed and book it out of his room. 

Shooting him a quick warning look, he finally gets to telling you his oh-so-anticipated thought. 

“So,” he begins. “You know when I’m eating you out?”

Blinking your eyes slowly, you resist throwing yourself off the bed already. Definitely not the direction you thought this was going in.

Eddie smiles up at you, waiting for your answer. 

“Yes, I think I’m quite familiar with that, thank you,” you respond, keeping your voice purposefully flat. 

“Well, you know when I’m eating you out and I’m just doing such a good job that you can’t stay still?”

“Eddie,” you laugh. He raises his brows, awaiting your answer yet again to continue. “Yes. Yes, I am also quite familiar with that.”

“And when you can’t stay still, I hold your hips?”

“Eddie, I swear to god you better spit it out,” you huff, trying to hold back your laugh as you smack a flat palm to his chest again. He grins at you, eyes excited and filled with amusement. 

“So, I’m eating you out, holding your hips, and then you’re still squirming around everywhere so I’m like, wrestling you?”

“You’re not wrestling me,” you laugh.

“But I am,” he smiles, raising a brow at you. 

“You’re not… you’re just holding me,” you offer abashedly. He shakes his head with verve, and you nod your own head contradictingly. With a small wave of his hand, he continues. 

“Well, just wait for the next part,” he smiles. “So I’m wrestling you, and then your legs start closing around my head—”

“Okay.” you interrupt. “I think that’s enough,” you say, feeling your cheeks start to heat up from his brashness. Obviously you know how the whole event goes, you don't need him to break it down for you in a play by play. 

“No, I’m finally getting to it!” he laughs, hands squeezing at your hips. 

You flash him a forced annoyed glare, prompting him to continue with a lift of your brows. He dips his head in a nod, smirking, and he finally delivers his punchline, words dripped in glee and an air of proudness. 

“Whenever your legs start squeezing my head, sometimes I pretend I’m holding open the jaws of an alligator.”

“What?” you scoff, eyes narrowing in confusion. Surely you heard him wrong. 

“It’s true,” he nods matter-of-factly. “I imagine a big ol’ alligator trying to clamp my head in it’s jaw, and I’m fighting for my life, trying to hold its mouth open,” he repeats, holding his arms out wide, energetically miming the struggle of keeping an alligator's jaw open. 

So you didn't hear him wrong?

That’s what he’s thinking about when he’s giving you head? 

Mortifying. Shocking. Not surprising— it is Eddie after all. 

He finds your right hand, laying it down flat to his chest, pressing it firmly with both his hands overtop of it. Grounding you to him— nope— making sure you don’t leave is more like it.

“You’re strong, you know that?” he says with wide eyes. “You prance around here, needing me to open jars, and carry your bags, but I swear to god you’re stronger than me. Super-strength,” he says with a wiggle of his brows. 

“You… you are so…” You’re at a loss of words. All you can do is shake your head, and feel your mouth go dry as you stare at him, astonished that this is what he decided to tell you. Never in a million years would you have guessed that’s what he’s thinking.

He opens his mouth and it only gets worse. “Sometimes I pretend it’s a bear trap too,” he adds.

“Stop.”

“Or it’s like Excalibur. You know Excalibur don't you? Its like I’m King Arthur and keeping your legs open is like I’m pulling the sword from the stone—”

“Stop,” you say with a more bewildered urgency, pressing your palm to his mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile, crows feet deepening as he looks at you, eyes squinting with his amusement. 

He mumbles something under your hand but you can’t make it out— you don’t want to make it out. 

“Weird. You’re weird. You’re so weird.” you finally spit out through your shock. He licks your palm and you pull away with a repulsed squeal, wiping the dampness onto his shirt. 

“I make you cum, don’t I?” he asks, smug as ever. 

“But why are you thinking of that while you’re doing it?” you ask, riddled with mystified shock. 

“I don’t know… just kind of thought of it one day and went with it,” he shrugs. “It’s kind of good though– distracts me from blowing my load before I’ve even got it in.”

With heavy blinks, you give yourself a minute to absorb what he’s just told you. Closing your gaping mouth, you swallow back your bafflement. This was supposed to be a relaxing night– not Eddie baring his weird soul night. 

“Well… you were right, I hate it.”

“You love it,” he grins. 

“Hate it,” you emphasize. 

“Oh, but you love me, don’t you?” he retorts with his un-wipeable grin.

“We’re getting divorced.”

“Is this you saying you wanna get married? ‘cause we gotta get married first if you want a divorce,” he smirks, grabbing at your sides, tickling you. Taking his hands in your grasp, you stop him before he can really get started with the tickling, pushing his hands away and returning them to his chest with your so-called ‘super-strength’.

“I’m giving you two choices Munson– you take me home right now, or we stop talking about this,” you say with the best sternness you can muster. Oh to be reading your book peacefully, cuddling in the quietness of the room that was once promised to you. 

He doesn't like your ultimatum, you can tell right away with the way his face drops. 

“But you were gonna stay the night,” he pouts, purposefully over-jetting out his lower lip.

“Yeah and I want to stay the night,” you respond, tilting your head at him. 

“So stay the night,” he nearly whines. Like a punishment, you let him sit in his pout for an extra moment. You could hope that he's thinking over where this all went wrong, but you know he's not. Under all that pout he's still smug as hell, it's in his nature. 

“Are you going to keep talking about your weirdo imagination?” you finally break the silence.

“I thought you liked my imagination?” he says, lower lip pushing out even further, trembling slightly as he continues his overdramatic pouting, his eyes round with an innocence that he could never possess.  

“I do,” you promise. “But not when it’s working overtime while you're going down on me. I’m not an alligator or a bear trap… or some magical sword and stone— Eddie literally who thinks of that?” you can’t help but smile, shaking your head with a regrettable mirth. 

“See, I’m funny. You’re laughing.” Smug.

“You’re weird.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Later that night…

His tongue flits back and forth, sending shock waves of pleasure through your system. 

“You like that?” he hums against you. 

“G-good. Really good,” you reply through huffed breaths. Your stomach tenses, breaths staggering as you feel your impending orgasm approaching. 

You stayed the night, no surprise to you or Eddie. One thing led to another, and hours later, your earlier conversation long forgotten, Eddie was between your thighs, racking pleasure throughout your whole body with his tongue on your clit.

His fingers pushed deep inside of you, massage upwards, stroking against your walls, rubbing perfectly at that euphoria inducing spot— you can’t take it, it feels too good, too much. 

Your hands, weaved into his hair, resort to an odd combination of pushing him away and pulling him forward. Running from the pleasure but chasing it at the same time. 

His lips seal over your clit, sucking, mimicking the throb that trembles through your body. You go ridgid, sliding over your tipping point. Your legs tense, closing inwards as your body gives in to instinct, not having a single thought in your brain at the moment. Every muscle tenses harshly before your spasm begins, limbs shaking and moving all at their own accord.

Hips stuttering, jolting back and forth with your release, a heavy hand closes around your thigh, pinning it to the bed.

“The alligator! She’s back,” Eddie exclaims but you have less than a microbe of steady consciousness to parse his words properly. His fingers continue wiggling inside of you, thumb moving itself to your clit as he continues busying his mouth with his ramblings that you’re too foggy headed to understand. You think for a moment there might have been a pirate impression with an argh, but that can't be right. 

A deep, sputtering inhale, your lungs fill, clearing your lust filled brain. His movements slow, and your body relaxes little by little, melding into the mattress until you’re just a puddle of a person. 

“And that’s another win for me,” Eddie announces smugly.

“Hm?” you hum, still in a daze.

“I defeated the alligator— yet again.” he says boisterously.

You blink your eyes open to see Eddie smirking from cheek to arousal glistening cheek. At first, what he said doesn’t make sense, but then it all clicks.

An absolute loss of words. You’ve never been so dumbfounded to not have a single word— not even earlier when he first brought up his colorful, unusual thoughts. Never. 

Eddie recognizes this because he lets himself fall to your side, pulling you into him, maneuvering you like a rag doll until you're halfways on his chest, face to face, wrapping his arm around your waist.  

“You know I’m funny,” he teases, stealing a kiss from you. He pulls back, looking beyond pleased with himself. “You love me,” he sings with a cheesy grin, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Full of mortification and disconcertment, your love for him is undeniable. You love him through and through, and unfortunately that includes his inopportune imagination. 

“I’m in love with an absolute weirdo,” you confess. 

──────────── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ty for reading!

[littlexdeaths]

pushing up daisies - e.m.

kas eddie munson x fem reader

treat me bad like i’m no one's daughter,

body bag, baby, i’m a goner…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: ANGSTTTTT, mentions of eddie’s death and the upside down, canon divergent (reader is chosen as vecna’s last victim instead of max), established relationship, soft!dom eddie, biting/blood drinking, lil bit of jealous eddie, public sex, unprotected piv sex, cream pie

based on love is a… by pvris

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this is honestly something i am so incredibly proud of, so i hope you all enjoy it. a big thank you to my babes @undead-supernova @strangerstilinski and @lokis-army-77 for helping me with parts of this fic, i love you all so much 💕

The sky was dark, storm clouds rolling in as you trudged through the rusted gates of Hawkin’s memorial cemetery.

Only the booming sounds of thunder and your labored breathing filled the morning air. Rain droplets poured steadily onto your head, dripping down the collar of your rain jacket. The clothing seemingly useless as the heavy rain soaked you to the bone.

The wild daisies clutched in your fist were beginning to wilt as your eyes scanned over the sea of headstones. Your throat tightens once you find his, now wishing that Dustin had been lying to you.

The words BURN IN HELL FREAK were still visible, despite the male’s best effort to clean them off the previous day. It had been less than a week since the funeral, but that was plenty of time for someone to vandalize his headstone. You hated this town.

Reaching the now desecrated grave you sigh, gently running your fingers along the top of the headstone. The rough edges scraped against your fingertips as you knelt down in front of it. Letting your hand fall into your lap, glancing down at the sad excuse of a bouquet in the other.

He deserved more than this… he deserved more than anything this shitty town had to offer.

“Hey Eds,” you whisper, despite the desolation surrounding you.

You carefully set the daisies onto the ground, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill past your waterline. The white of the flowers contrasted sharply against the dirt, which was quickly turning to mud beneath your knees. But you didn’t mind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral,” guilt laces your shaky voice as you tug your lower lip between your teeth. “I just… I couldn’t see you like that.”

Despite the feeble attempts that Dustin and Robin made to coax you out of bed that day, nothing was going to change your mind. You didn’t want to remember him that way, as you were already grappling with the image of him dying in Dustin’s arms.

A memory that haunts your dreams every night.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you mumble, reaching into your pocket to pull out his lucky set of dice. A sad smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you begin to place them along his headstone, “I brought a peace offering.”

A loud crack has your eyes flicking up, body jolting in surprise as a bolt of lightning strikes a tree in the distance. The impact splits the trunk down the middle, the wind picking up speed and taking your flowers with it.

The torn petals spread across the unkempt ground, the gesture now ruined. Just like everything else you touched.

You blame yourself for his death, knowing he would still be here if Vecna hadn't chosen you. You would live through a thousand years in a prison of your own mind, let that monster drain you of your entire existence— if it meant Eddie would have lived.

“It’s all my fault,” you don’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks, staring intently at the stone in front of you.

Edward Lee Munson, now at peace.

Those bold words stare back at you, mirroring the stone that sat just a few feet besides his. One you had become very familiar with over the years.

Elizabeth Ann Munson.

Beloved wife and mother, may she rest in peace.

While hers were more faded, they still brought you a small sense of comfort. Knowing that Eddie was with her now, he was safe. But that comfort wouldn’t heal the hole that had been punched through your chest.

“I miss you,” you hiccup, your tears steadily flowing now, the moisture beginning to blur your vision. “It w-wasn’t supposed to b-be you.”

Your soft cries soon morphed into pained sobbing, your shoulders hunched over as you dug your fists into the earth. You were grateful that Steve had let you come alone, not wanting anyone to see you like this.

In the short time that Eddie had been gone, you felt suffocated. With Vecna still alive and plotting, you were constantly being watched. Your friends not knowing if the demon, creature, whatever he was— would come back to claim you for good.

Part of you hoped for it, mentally pleaded to be taken away too. Because a life without Eddie, wasn’t a life you wanted to live.

A loud scream pierces the air, and it takes you a moment to realize the sound has come from you. Your chest heaves from the force of it, allowing your head to tilt back as your eyes slip shut. Enjoying how the rain soaks into your pores, washing away any trace of your tears.

You sit like that for a while, as the storm continues to wage on around you. Silently wishing that the rain would wash you away too. Dirt is caked under your fingernails, mud coated your shins and the hem of your skirt. You knew you couldn’t sit out here much longer, as your teeth started to chatter from the cold.

Your head falls forward, allowing yourself one last look at his headstone. The red paint has stained it horribly, tainting the last thing he had left in this world.

“I’ll come back tomorrow and clean this shit up, I promise.” You say, lifting up your pinky towards the block of stone. You hold it there for a moment before your hand falls back to your side.

“I love you, Eddie,” you sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you start to stand. Turning around as you begin to wipe the dirt from your knees.

As you take a step forward your shoe begins to sink into the wet soil, almost swallowing your foot whole. An annoyed huff leaves your lips as you try to pull it back out. But any attempt is stopped short as a cold hand wraps around your other ankle. A deep groan echoes in your ears as your eyes widen in fear.

This was it… Vecna’s come back for you.

While everything inside you begs you to run, your body remains frozen. Hyperventilating as the ground beneath you begins to shift, your feet sinking in deeper as another body fights its way out from the earth. A strained grunt of your name snaps you out of your petrified state, recognizing the voice immediately.

This was a cruel joke, knowing he was taking on Eddie’s form just to hurt you more. So you decided you wouldn’t stick around to witness it.

If you were going to die, it would be by his own hands.

“No!” You shout, yanking your ankle out of that icy grip as you make a break for it.

You don’t make it very far though, only reaching the edge of his grave before you lose your footing. The tip of your shoe catches on a tree root, sending your body tumbling forward onto the wet ground. The impact knocks the wind out of you as you struggle to take a breath in. Your nails dig into the grass for purchase as you try to crawl away.

The feeling of two hands wrapping around each ankle has you screaming, thrashing about as you're dragged back towards the grave. The male flips you around, unable to hear his broken pleas over the sound of your own shrieks. You keep your eyes focused on the storm clouds above your heads, desperate for some kind of distraction. You wouldn’t look at him, you couldn’t.

This wasn’t your Eddie.

A dirty hand grips onto your chin, tilting your head down as he wedges his body between your thighs. Forcing you to face him, his dark eyes ablaze with fury— a sharp contrast to the way he gently cradles your jaw.

“I’m not in the mood for games… just get on with it,” you snap, letting your eyes slip shut as you wait for that familiar pain to shoot up your spine and through your skull.

But nothing happens.

You crack an eye open only to find the brunette staring back down at you, confusion coating his features.

“… get on with what, sweetheart?” His voice cracks, the look on his face mirroring his tone.

“Killing me,” you state, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

There’s a moment of silence between you before he starts laughing, the booming sound instantly melts your insides. It was something you thought you would never hear again.

“I guess my entrance was very Night of the Living Dead, huh?” He teases with a wide grin as his head dips lower— his drenched curls sticking to your cheek.

When you feel Eddie’s lips connect with the base of your throat, your breath hitches. Heat pools in your middle as he inhales, groaning deeply. The sound vibrates against your skin, sending shockwaves through your system.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he hums, his hands running down the length of your sides. The male grips onto the soaked fabric of your dress, slowly inching it up until his palms are splayed across the tops of your thighs.

“You’re so warm,” he continues, his nose grazing along your collarbone as you grip onto the shoulders of his oversized suit jacket.

“H-How are you here?” You question with a small whine as he lightly nips at your throat, chuckling deeply.

“You brought me here, sweetheart.” His words are spoken reassuringly, but they don’t offer you any comfort.

“So, this is a dream,” there’s no question in your voice, only a trace of melancholy.

But Eddie notices it immediately, his head lifting from the crook of your neck. His dark eyes met yours for a moment, a look of determination flashing through his irises.

“Does this feel like a dream to you, baby?”

Before you can reply, his lips brush against yours. Any worries that this wasn’t real melt away with each press of his mouth on yours. Silencing the fear that this will all disappear the moment you pull apart. The storm rages on as he kisses you with an electricity that rivals the lightning above you.

“Definitely not a dream,” you mumble, earning a soft chuckle from him.

You swallow the sound as you kiss him deeper, his ringed fingers gliding further up your thighs and under your dress. Your own slip underneath the collar of his jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders. Letting the rain soak into his white dress shirt, the fabric clinging to the muscles in his back.

Your hands quickly rake through his hair, tugging on the drenched curls as his mouth trails along your jaw. Continuing lower as he sucks harshly on your skin, enjoying the way your body responds to each press of his lips. A breathy whine spills past your own as his fingers reach the elastic band of your panties.

The tension between you continues to mount as you eagerly drag his mouth back to yours. Eddie’s fingers curl under the waistband, snapping the lace against your skin. You barely register the tearing of that same fabric, too preoccupied with his lips on yours. The clinking of his belt soon follows, aiding him in pushing his slacks down his thighs.

“Please,” you plead, lifting your hips against his. Not wanting to waste another second to have him buried inside you.

The brunette gently shushes you, pulling back for a moment as he rubs the tip of cock through your drenched folds. His pupils dilate as he takes in the way your lips part under his thumb. A shaky breath escapes them as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he coos, caressing your cheek as he guides his hips forward. Slowly slipping into your awaiting heat with a strangled groan, “I’ll take care of you.”

His actions are gentle, as your bodies become reacquainted with each other. Eddie guides your hands above your head, fingers lacing together in the dirt. Your thighs are snug around his hips, desperate to keep him as close as humanly possible.

He rocks his hips into yours at a deep but leisurely pace, letting him savor every moment he spends inside you. As neither of you know what will happen after this is all over, it’s not something you want to think about.

Being here, in this moment, with him is the only thing that mattered to you.

The ferocity of the storm drowns out the cries that leave your lips, much different from the agonized ones you had let out earlier. Everything feels heightened, pleasure coursing through your veins with each stroke of his cock.

There’s a sudden shift in his demeanor as his eyes glaze over with an almost dangerous glint. Similar to that of a predator who had locked eyes on his prey. Your heart rate increases as a deep growl permeates the air. His fingers slip out of yours, instead digging into the soil beside you as his body goes rigid.

The brown of his irises disappear from view as he squeezes them shut, worry beginning to fill your chest. Your hands reach up to cradle his face, feeling how tightly his jaw was clenched underneath your fingertips.

“Eds,” you call softly, but the male remains frozen above you— a statue of Adonis.

He was losing control, ready to slip through your fingers. But you had already lost him once, and you weren't about to let it happen again.

“Stay with me,” you implore, softly pressing your lips against the furrow between his eyes. Brushing the dirt from his cheeks as you continue to trail tender kisses across his face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally speaks as your lips hover over his, your breath mingling together.

“You won’t,” you promise as your nose nudges against his.

Eddie seems reluctant as he opens his eyes, crimson beginning to bleed into his irises. “But there’s something different…” he trails off, searching for any trace of fear reflecting in your eyes. “I’m different.”

“I don’t care,” you don’t miss a beat, capturing his lips with yours once more.

He moans into your mouth, hands encircling your waist as you lift your hips, encouraging him to thrust deeper inside you. Your tongue slips past his lips, gliding along his front teeth. Coming to a sudden realization as you feel the pointed edge of his canines.

Logically you should feel frightened, but it seems to have the opposite effect on you. Your kisses become frantic as your walls flutter around his shaft, the sensation causing him to moan out your name. The pace of his hips quickens as your nails dig into the drenched dress shirt covering his back.

Your lips separate as you gasp, his cock hitting that spot that has you seeing stars. The both of you falling closer to that precipice with each thrust of his hips. But it’s not quite enough, needing to connect with him on a new level.

Eddie peers down at you in awe as your head falls back, baring your throat to him. “Do it,” you insist, guiding his mouth towards your neck.

You can sense his hesitation, his lips ghosting over your skin instead.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, his groan vibrating against your throat. “I want you to.”

The sincerity in your tone squashes any doubts still lingering in his head. Allowing his teeth to graze against your tender flesh, testing his resolve.

“I trust you,” is what he needs to hear before he sinks his teeth into your neck.

Your body arches into his chest, trembling as that familiar wave of euphoria crashes over you— pulling you under completely. Eddie drinks from you greedily, continuing to work you through your high as his own steadily approaches.

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he moans as his teeth detach themselves from your throat.

His tongue darts out, lapping up the blood that begins to trickle down the curve of your neck. The sight of his mark on you is almost enough to send him over the edge. But your pretty whines are the final nail in his coffin, hips stuttering as he fills you with his warmth.

“I love you.”

Those three little words are whispered against your collarbone as the male collapses onto you. A content smile spreads across your face as your fingers card themselves through his curls. The both of you soaking up this moment of bliss for as long as you can.

The rain above your heads has finally slowed to a drizzle, the pitter patter of the droplets matching your heartbeat. You don’t know how long you laid there like this, bodies intertwined on his grave.

But it didn’t matter, as long as it was him you were entangled with.

“I love you too,” you reply a while later, the male humming as he lifts his face from the crook of your neck, crimson smeared across his lips.

A fond look falls over his features as he leans down to kiss you again, the metallic taste of you lingering on his mouth. A thought suddenly occurs to you, causing you to giggle against his lips.

“What’s so funny, sweetness?” He muses, pulling away from you with a raised brow. You tuck a loose curl behind his ear, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Just trying to think of how to explain this to Steve.” You watch in amusement as a scowl appears on his face.

“Poor thing is gonna think I was mauled by a wild animal,” you tease, gesturing to the bite mark on your neck.

You see a flash of jealousy in his eyes, a low growl rumbles through his chest as his lips reattach themselves to your throat— causing you to squeal.

“Harrington’s just gonna have to deal with it,” he answered smugly, hugging your body closer to his.

The both of you completely unaware of the looming figure watching you from the tree line.

tagging some lovelies: @xxbimbobunnyxx @munsonhoneybaby @rowanswriting @voyeurmunson @nailbatanddungeon @vecslut @likedovesinthewnd @lofaewrites

[msgexymunson]

Treasure

Description: watching the latest Mad Max film has you discovering something new about Eddie and his kinks 

A/N: just a smutty blurb I came up with when I watched that film last night! Ignore the timeline, just pretend Fury Road came out in the 80s. Please reblog if you like my work, I'll love you forever, promise.

Warnings: AFAB reader, NSFW, minors DNI, subby Eddie, breeding kink, p in v unprotected sex (reader on b/c) 

2k words

Masterlist 

The new Mad Max film blares its opening titles, echoing off of the tinny walls of the trailer. The lights are all off; darkness had fallen outside some time ago, so the only light came from the flickering blue glare of the TV. 

There was barely enough room to sit side by side on the narrow bed, so you sat between Eddie's spread legs, your back flush with his chest, cuddled in a swaddling embrace. You'd only been seeing each other for a couple of months, but the comfort of having his arms around you in such a natural way made you feel safe. 

"I've been looking forward to watching this, took a lot not to watch it before you came around." He admits, hand reaching up to stroke your face briefly. 

"Well, aren't I lucky." 

"Damn straight." 

You laugh, grabbing his hand and wrapping it back around your torso, settling down to watch the movie. 

Losing yourself in the film, you focus on the characters, the chases, the struggles. Then you notice Eddie's hand has drifted to your thigh. Your eyes roll upwards, he's usually handsy with you when you're trying to watch TV so this is not surprising. What is surprising is the nature of his movements. They seem compulsive, thumb rubbing back and forth as if he's not aware he's doing it. Staring at his hand, you see it's trembling slightly. 

You cup his hand with yours and he stops immediately. 

"You alright there baby? Are the girls that hot?" You quip, amusement in your voice. 

"Oh, no, not at all!" He shakes his head, a few strands grazing your cheek. "They're pretty, sure, not a patch on you." He responds, kissing your temple. The reply is so forthright and honest, like everything else he says to you. It's definitely the truth. Honestly, you wouldn't even be jealous if it was the girls that got him worked up. You know he's yours.

Settling back down, you continue watching, but curiosity is chewing on your brain. It's fuelled even further by a very familiar bulge that's now digging into the small of your back. 

It's only when you hear the character on screen saying 'his treasures, his prize breeders' and Eddie's hand grips your thigh hard, that you put two and two together. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but the damage is done. 

You tilt your head back a little so you can take in his profile. For once, Eddie looks nervous. His cheeks are flushed, eyes as wide as a bush baby, nibbling on his lip neurotically. He's never looked so flustered. 

The devil on your shoulder is whispering an idea in your brain that you can't ignore. Seeing him so worked up is doing something to you, blood travelling in between your legs. 

Softly, so he barely notices at first, you run your hands up and down his thighs. Gentle caresses, back and forth, until you feel him hum in his chest, melting slightly. He's relaxing beneath you. Your nails join in, dragging across the soft fabric of his sweatpants. 

"Eddie, am I your treasure?" You ask sweetly, voice as innocent as you can muster. 

"Of- of course, baby." He responds, a quiver in his voice, tensing up again at your words. 

"Is that what you want? For me to be your treasure?" You ask, pressing your back against him harder, beginning to gently grind on his bulge. 

"Wha-what do you m-mean?"

He staggers it out, his usual cadence gone. It's high pitched, almost whiny. This is going well out of your usual territory; it wasn't uncommon for Eddie to be pulling whimpers out of you, not the other way around.

You have to say it, to take the leap. 

Leaning to whisper right in his ear, you decide to just come out with it. 

"Do you want to breed me Eddie?" 

His eyes widen even further, mouth falling open. You continue to grind against him, your hands tracing higher up his thighs. 

"Is that it baby? You wanna fuck me raw, fill me up?" 

The noise he makes is alien to you. It's high, quivering and desperate. His breathing has quickened, hands coming to rest shakily on yours. 

Pulling them off you gently, you reach for the remote and pause the movie. Then, you swivel around so you can straddle him, throbbing heat pressed against his rock hard length. 

"Eddie, answer me." You say quietly, but firmly. His hands rest on your hips, anxiously rubbing the skin under your shirt. His shirt, the old one you'd stolen weeks ago. 

"I- I, erm, yeah, I mean, fuck" He stutters, losing control as you massage his length with each roll of your hips, only your panties and his sweats in the way of absolute pleasure. 

You grasp his chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing his gaze to meet yours. 

"Eddie. Words." 

"I mean, yeah." His voice is smaller than you've ever heard. Then, it all rushes out of his mouth in a jumble. 

"But I, I don't mean I want to like, have kids right now or something it's just-" 

"You like the fantasy." 

He nods so hard and fast it's almost comical. The puppy dog look he's giving you is so soft and you don't want to hurt his feelings, so you swallow your laugh. 

"You know, I was gonna mention earlier…" you start as you run a hand through the front of his hair, nails dragging on his scalp slightly, his eyes rolling back at the gesture.

"What sweetheart?" He all but whispers, his head rolling in tandem with your ministrations. 

"I'm on the pill now." 

His eyes snap back open, bugging out of his head almost. A laugh escapes then, you can't help it. It's a girlish giggle, which turns into a dirty smirk. 

Grinding against him harder, hand coming to rest on his chest, a moan sounds low inside you, echoing from deep within. The friction is good, making you wet, but it's not enough. 

You need him. Now. 

"So, you wanna fill me up? You can cum inside me, as many times as you want." 

"You'll let me?" He looks shocked.

"Oh please, sweets, please." 

His grip on your hips is harder now, fingers tight on your flesh. 

He all but sulks when you climb off him, pouting his bottom lip like a child. It's not for long though, as you shimmy out of your panties, discarding them somewhere on the floor. You pull his sweats off and away swiftly, to join the mire of mess on his carpet. 

Hovering back over him, you circle the tip of his leaking cock. It's teasing, you know, but he looks so flustered and sweaty and desperate. 

"Can I take this off?" He asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt, "please?" 

The question takes you back. You're not used to being in control, the thrill of it tingles through your nerves. You pull the top off very slowly, finally releasing your breasts. Eddie groans in his throat at the sight. 

As you sink down on him, you press your mouth on his, collecting his moans in your throat. Your pussy swallows him up, sucking him in greedily. You do the same with your tongue, fervently licking into him, heating up your mouth, your skin, your cunt. 

The room is soon filled with the sound of your slapping skin, your nails leaving red crescents into his shoulders. 

"Fuck, you feel so amazing. Go- go a bit slower, please." You comply, rocking into him, his swollen length jotting against your g spot with each pass. 

Leaning towards him, you let your lips brush against his ear, hot breath fanning against the shell of it. 

"This what you wanted baby, hmm? To feel everything…" Letting the word linger, you push against him harder, fingers winding into his hair. 

"Yeah, oh yes- fuck" 

"Yeah? You wanna cum inside me? Stuff me full of your cum? You want little Munsons running around the place, hmm?" 

He whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers. 

You pull on the lock of hair you've twisted in your grip, making his noises even more strangled. 

"Baby, oh my God, please, can I get on top?" 

"Of course, your treasure will do anything for you" you smirk. 

"Fuck!" 

He pushes you down then, flipping you onto the mattress as he fucks into you intensely, hand coming to your clit to rub tight circles. Even in his state he still wants you to come first. 

The coil in your stomach that has been tightening slowly speeds up at his touch, warming through your body, tingles reaching right to your fingers and toes. The heat is outstanding, buzzing between you both. Your insides are fluttering as you dig heels into his bare ass, forcing him as close as he can get, needing more, more. 

"Please come, Jesus Christ, I need it, I need it. Come so I can, please!" 

Its babble, spewing from his lips in urgent bubbles of sound. The subby neediness of it is what pushes you over that edge, clenching hard around his thick member, squeezing him to within an inch of his life. You scream out your release, throaty and rough, gripping his biceps tightly. 

"Oh my God sweets, fuck!" 

The feeling must be just as intense for him. You push him further, knowing he wants it. 

"Eddie, please cum inside me, I need your cum, I wanna feel it, fuckin' breed me Eddie." 

That was it, that pushed him over the edge; the word 'breed'. He releases deep inside, crying out your name so loudly you're sure the neighbours are going to complain. He's throbbing inside, still coming, and coming. Finally, it stops and he goes limp, slipping out of you. You accept his weight, holding him to you closely. 

A cold, wet feeling on your chest takes you by surprise. Looking down you see that Eddie is crying. Not hard, just little, hiccupping sobs that make your heart swell. 

"Shh, it's OK baby, it's OK." Attempting to placate him, your fingers run through his hair trying to soothe him. 

The whimpering stops and he looks at you, eyes almost shameful. 

"I'm so sorry that was pathetic, honestly-" 

"Baby, I ain't judging." Flashing him a soft smile. 

"I just never came that hard. Ever." 

Your chest swells with pride but you jolt as you feel his fingers on your soaking heat. 

"Baby what are you doing?" 

"Keeping my cum inside you." 

Giggles explode out of you, slapping his arm. He doesn't stop, fingers hard against your cunt.

"That was really fucking hot. I should let you take charge more often." 

"Let me? Seems I took charge all on my own." 

"And I thank you for it." He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. 

He hesitates, fingers still harsh on your cunt. 

"Did you mean it?" 

"Mean what?" You stare down at him, confused. 

His voice drops down an octave, eyes flashing menace. 

"That I can cum in you, as much as I want?" 

Biting your lip, you nod. 

"Fill me up Eddie." 

"Fuuuck" He huffs, biting down on the soft skin of your breast, "give me five minutes and I'm gonna rock your world." 

Giggles are replaced by moans when he shoves two fingers inside your soaking cunt. 

Seems you've unlocked a new kink of his. You smile, happy to be his treasure. 

Taglist (I'm just tagging some likely candidates ;)

@munson-blurbs @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @emsgoodthinkin @names-were-taken @joejoequinnquinn @zestychili @lunatictardis @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @tlclick73 @corrodedcoffincumslut @unfocused81 @liminalpebble @truffleshuffle12 @bookshelf-dust

[theemporium]

Can I request a smut Berry daiquiri with eddie munson and steve harrington.

With the prompt: “i’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head.”

Thank you!!😍😘

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

6. “I am going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head.” 

.

In your defence, you didn’t think a bit of harmless flirting would piss them off this much.

You hadn’t even flirted back, if you were being completely honest. The man was just a shameless customer who seemed more interested in chatting you up rather than picking up whatever movie he had entered Family Video for. It was sloppy work, something that would hardly woo you. 

If anything, you thought it was funny.

But the boys didn’t seem to hold the same sentiment. 

Steve stood behind the counter, the clock ticking closer to the end of his shift and his patience ticking closer to being nonexistent as he watched the customer shamelessly check you out when you turned around to grab a movie for him. Eddie was no better, sitting on the counter and watching the whole interaction with his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened into a glare.

The man had eventually realised he wasn’t getting lucky, grabbing whatever movie he had shown up for and bringing it to the counter. He was lucky that Steve had enough self-restraint to not smack him over the head with it. Or reach over the counter to do something stupid. Like try to fight him.

But their bad mood was clear as the three of you piled into Eddie’s van, you stuck between both boys as the three of you silently drove to Steve’s house. Honestly, you assumed they were upset. And you did feel bad, your apology ready and on the tip of your tongue as the three of you climbed out and headed into the house. 

You hadn’t expected them to be jealous. 

And you hadn’t expected them to be absolutely relentless in reminding you just who you belong to.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” Eddie mused, something dark and promising in his voice as he ran his fingers through your hair, pushing your hair away from your face as you gasped and choked with every thrust. “Tell us what he said. Tell us what made you giggle and bat your eyelashes like a lil’ attention whore.”

“I–” You whined as you nuzzled your face into his hand, the air leaving your lungs with Steve’s relentless pace behind you. You could barely remember your name at the moment, let alone whatever the fuck the man had said to you in the store. “Fuck.”

“Hm, that doesn’t seem right, does it, Steve?” Eddie commented with a mocking pout, his words patronising and mean and, fuck, if it didn’t make you squeeze around Steve’s dick deep inside you. “Pretty sure he said more than that.” 

You whined, your head dropping to Eddie’s thigh as you nosed the bulge in his boxers. 

Eddie only grinned in delight at the sight of you already so needy and fucked out for them. 

“Oh, look at her,” Steve groaned as he crowded over you, his cock deep inside you and his body covering yours as he lightly squeezed your cheeks to turn your head towards him. “I am going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head. Maybe then you’ll have enough room to beg for Eddie’s cock, hm?” 

You could only whimper in response, already halfway there and so ready for both their cocks.

.

[moonstruckme]

hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: aftermath of panic attack

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.” 

You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?” 

This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.” 

You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously. 

“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.” 

He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.” 

“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn’t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?” 

You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours. 

“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits. 

“Sorry.”

“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.” 

“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.” 

“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?” 

“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative. 

“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?” 

“Bed,” you answer immediately. 

“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?” 

You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?” 

A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.” 

[livwritesstuff]

It’s uncharacteristically warm outside for late-winter in Hawkins, Indiana.

It’s 2004, and the whole entire Party is back in Hawkins to celebrate Jim and Joyce’s fifteenth wedding anniversary (it’s actually closer to their sixteenth by now, but they’ve all well and truly entered that phase of adulthood where planning things is next to impossible), and it’s the first time they’ve all been in one room since…honestly, Steve doesn’t even know when. Since Lucas’s wedding in ‘99, maybe.

Everyone is inside unwinding after dinner. Steve can hear them from where he’s sitting outside on the front deck gently rocking the porch swing Hop had installed years ago with one foot, a now-empty bottle resting on the unfinished pine floor by the other.

The front door of Jim and Joyce’s house quietly opens and Steve looks over as El steps onto the porch, closing the door behind her as soft as she’d opened it.

She pauses, her eyes turning wary as they slide off of him and onto the baby girl drifting asleep in his arms (his and Eddie’s littlest baby, Robbie – the older baby, Moe, who’s nearly three so not really a baby anymore, is inside still probably being doted on by all her aunts and uncles).

Even in her early thirties there are so many ways El is still just like the little kid Steve met back in 1984. At the same time though, she’s completely changed.

“Doin’ okay, Ellie?” he asks gently.

She nods.

“It’s getting loud,” El tells him, “Someone put on Jeopardy.” 

Yeah, that’ll do it these days – older and wiser they may all be, but any kind of trivia is still a vice for pretty much the entire Party.

“Well, you’re welcome to join us out here for as long as you like,” Steve replies.

He knows El is a little apprehensive around babies still, same as she is with cats and puppies – really anything small and vulnerable that might have been used against her many years ago, so he half-expects her to go back inside.

But she comes over and sits down next to him on the porch swing anyway and for a while, both of them are quiet.

Robbie exhales a satisfied snuffling noise that tells Steve she’s well and truly asleep.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees El’s hand twitch, like she was going to raise it but then stopped herself.

“Can I?” she asks tentatively.

“‘Course,” Steve tells her, and he watches as El runs the tips of her fingers over the wisps of soft hair on Robbie’s head.

“How old is she now?”

“Three months,” he replies, “Four in a week or so.”

“And she’s…she’s doing…good?” she asks, and there’s something so El in her tone, the same tone she always uses when she’s tip-toeing her way through something that, to her, is foreign territory.

“Mm-hm. She’s good.”

El nods.

“Your daughters are lucky,” she says, her brown eyes trained wistfully on Robbie even as she pulls her hand away. 

Steve thinks he knows what she’s getting at, but before he can ask, she keeps going.

“She’s gonna live her whole life never having to wonder if she’s loved or if she matters,” El says, “She won’t have to wonder because it’s always true. That’s special. I love Hop, and everything I have that is good is because of him, but…I still wish I could have had what you and Eddie are giving her too.”

And Steve knows exactly what she means because he feels the same way, because he thinks about it all the time, every time he thinks about his daughters and the way they are his entire world like he should have been to his own parents and yet never was, every time he thinks about himself and his father and his father’s father and knows it ends with him.

He’s not sure how to put any of that into words.

It’s El though, and he’s never really had to put those kinds of things into words with El, so he decides to just nod and settle back into the porch swing with his friend at his side and his daughter asleep in his arms and the faint noise of the people he loves most carried over them on the breeze of a warm winter evening.

[wormdebut]

WALK HIM LIKE A DOG

@hellion-child you did this. Inspired by this legendary post.

‘It’s not illegal to go to the dog park, just to hear hot dads say Good Girl.’

Rating: M CW: overusage of the term daddy and Eddie just being a horny bastard.

——

“You know, this is fucking insane, right?” Chrissy laughs while Eddie lounges on the park bench.

Yes. He’s aware.

He and Chrissy don’t even have a dog and yet—

“Chris. Look at all of these great pet parents, taking care of these little doggies. Look at em. Wonderful. Stunning, very normal.”

Chrissy levels him with a glare. Being on the wrong side of a Chrissy glare is a scary thing, but alas his dog park visits are worth it.

“No. Look, listen. You’ve got all of these doggy daddies taking their lovely pups out for runs and walks and what not and then daddy wraps up his run and takes the precious ones to this here dog park. Woof.”

It really was worth it to Eddie, alright? There is nothing wrong with going to a public dog park to maybe hear a hot sweaty man coo at his dog.

‘Good Boy’

‘Precious Girl’

Bark bark bark or whatever.

Would Eddie ever talk to any of them? Absolutely the fuck not, but a man could dream.

He was bummed though because none of the hot guys were out, today.

Damn.

He is busy scanning the area to see if he missed anyone, Chrissy yapping on and on about how they could just get a dog when someone slows their run to chat.

“Hi!” She says. This woman is tall, short hair messed up from running, she’s got a bright ass orange jacket on, and she is most certainly Chrissy’s type. Thats not fucking fair at all, now is it?

Chrissy’s complaining tapers off. “Hey.”

They smile at each other, and this is truly unfair, Eddie thinks. This whole dog park thing was for him and yet.

“I hope you don’t mind, but me and my best friend just moved to the area and honestly, I think you’re pretty so—I just thought I would say hi.” She hardly makes eye contact with Eddie. So it’s clear who she’s talking to.

Like recognizes like, he supposes.

He can respect the straight forwardness of it all. Chrissy is just kinda staring at her so he speaks up. “Well, I’m Eddie and this is Chrissy, and I can confidently say that she also thinks you’re pretty.”

Both woman turn to stare and him, Chrissy with big eyes and the other woman with a smirk. She speaks, “Well, it must be my lucky day.” She turns back to Chrissy, “I’m Robin.”

The two get talking and Eddie is happy for his best friend, he really is, but where are all the hot men?

He’s about ready to call it quits when he sees a fucking god, running with a ridiculously stunning dog.

Hot people own hot dogs, he supposes.

This guy is—fuck. He’s sweaty from running, and his hair is fucking gorgeous, even after activities. Thats a green flag. Eddie is just shocked.

This is the dog daddy of all dog daddies. He’s wearing tiny fucking red shorts that expose thighs for days and—

“Jesus fuckin’—see?” Eddie doesn’t even care that he is interrupting the girls conversation cause this guys is—god damn. “He could slap a collar on me and walk me like a dog.”

Chrissy balks. “Eddie. We are in the company of a new friend. Robin doesn’t deserves this.”

Eddie simply shrugs and Robin laughs, “No. I think it’s hilarious which guy caught your eye?”

Oh, he likes Robin. “I like her. Get her number—“ He smiles big at Chrissy, before gesturing towards the fucking Adonis in tiny little running shorts. “Anywhozle. That one, look at him. On my knees in a second.”

He ignores Chrissy’s eye roll, and watches as Robin takes in the guy, before busting out in a laugh. “Oh my god—Steve?”

Oh shit.

“I—do you—“ Abort mission. Abort abort.

“Oh yeah, remember that best friend I was telling you guys about?”

She is still laughing, and Chrissy joins her before handing Robin her phone.

Eddie feels like he just got bamboozled.

“Chrissy, babe, I’ll text you. Eddie? I’ll see what I can do.” She smiles at them both before running over to ‘Steve’ and his—their?— gorgeous dog.

“No wait I—“ Eddie tries but she’s already over with Steve who is listening intently to what Robin has to say.

Oh god, oh no. Oh god.

Chrissy is just laughing softly into her hand, which turns into full laughter quick because Steve turns to look at them, smiles and winks.