#oh brother

[l393ndjean]

what's that? You want to hear about my max-centric madwheeler stepsiblings wip?

Well, there ya go!

(More from this universe @byler-makemewanttobelieveitsokay )

[byler-makemewanttobelieveitsokay]

MMWtBiO Playlists

The Main AU

Will's Playlist

Mike's Playlist

El's Playlist

Max's Playlist

Dustin's Playlist

I'm still working on Lucas's Playlist, but I'll post it here when I'm finished. If you have any questions about the song choices, or the au in general, my ask box is always open!

[lazer-meme]

transfem steve and transmasc max looking at each other and going ‘…wanna switch?’ and from then on it’s steve’s little brother and max’s big sister

[unclewaynemunson]

After Eddie and Max were brought into the hospital, the waiting room was packed with people. But as time passed by, it got quieter. One by one, worried parents came by to pick up their kids.

“Are you sure you don't wanna come with me?” Robin asked Steve when her mother arrived.

Steve nodded. “Go home, Rob, it's okay. Just wanna make sure Max's mom and Eddie's uncle get here.”

She shot him a worried look, but she knew him well enough to recognize when she wouldn't be able to persuade him – and Steve in turn knew that there was no way Mrs. Buckley would leave the hospital without Robin, after all that had happened that night.

So Steve stayed and waited with Lucas in Max's room for Mrs. Mayfield. When she arrived, he decided to give them some privacy and wandered over to Eddie's room a couple of doors down the hall.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if Eddie would already have returned from the operation room – and if so, if it would be good or bad news waiting for him on the other side of the door.

He swallowed. Waiting motionlessly in the corridor wouldn't change what he'd find. So he raised his hand and slowly pushed the door open.

Eddie was inside, leaning against a pillow in his bed. He was as white as the sheets around him and he had large stitches in one of his cheeks, but other than that, he looked – alive.

“Eddie,” Steve breathed out while an overwhelming wave of relief washed over him.

It was only then that he noticed the other people in the room and stopped in his tracks.

Eddie's uncle was sitting at his bedside, wearing sweatpants and only an undershirt underneath his denim jacket. He looked exhausted, but just as relieved as Steve felt.

But that wasn't what had sparked Steve's surprise. No, the thing that Steve couldn't make sense of, was the man who was sat in the chair next to Wayne Munson. It was Steve's old middle school science teacher, Scott Clarke. He was dressed in a plaid flannel that seemed more Mr. Munson's style than his own, buttoned askew on top of a pair of striped pajama pants.

“Mr. Clarke? What are you doing here?” The question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Who are you?” Mr. Munson asked Steve before Mr. Clarke could say anything. It sounded defensive on the verge of being aggressive, but Steve couldn't really blame him for that, considering what the majority of Hawkins currently thought about Eddie.

“Steve Harrington,” he said, holding out his hand.

The lines on Mr. Munson's forehead deepened.

“He's my friend,” Eddie said. His voice sounded hoarse and weak, but Steve still felt a rush of warmth course through his whole body because of the words he said. “He saved my life.”

“Oh.” Mr. Munson's eyes widened slightly and he finally took Steve's hand. “Wayne Munson. Eddie's uncle. Pleased meetin' ya.”

“It's good to see you again, Steve,” Mr. Clarke remarked. “You've grown a lot since the last time I saw you.”

“I didn't expect to see you here, Mr. Clarke,” Steve noted, still trying to make sense of what exactly his old science teacher was doing in this room.

“Uncle Scott is also my uncle,” Eddie explained.

Steve looked back and forth between Mr. Munson and Mr. Clarke, trying to find any kind of resemblance between the two of them.

“You're brothers?” he couldn't help but ask, unable to keep the astonishment out of his voice. He would never have guessed that those two men were related to each other.

“Steve, no...” Eddie's voice was almost a whisper and had an undertone of something that sounded an awful lot like exasperation. Steve knew that tone all too well; he had never been good at restraining himself from asking stupid questions, after all.

He noticed how the two men exchanged some kind of meaningful glance with each other.

“Um, I think we should go get some coffee, Wayne,” Mr. Clarke said. “Leave the boys to catch up.”

Mr. Munson nodded, but before he got up, he looked at Eddie. "You'll be alright?" he asked, a worried frown on his face.

Eddie nodded. "It's fine, Uncle Wayne." He said it softly, like he was trying to reassure his uncle, and only after Eddie gave him another emphatic nod, Mr. Munson started following Mr. Clarke out of the room.

Just when Steve realized Mr. Clarke must be Eddie's uncle from his mom's side while Mr. Munson had to be his dad's brother, Wayne let his hand linger on the small of Mr. Clarke's back. It was a tiny moment, that only lasted a second right before they went through the door, easy to miss if one weren't paying close attention. But it was still enough for Steve to understand the exasperation in Eddie's voice and the unease on his uncles' faces. That one touch told Steve all he needed to know: there was this casual, easy kind of intimacy behind it that only long-term partners shared. He had seen his parents act like that, and Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair...

“No fucking way,” he breathed out at the moment the door quietly shut behind Mr. Munson. He turned back to Eddie with wide eyes and his jaw dropped.

“Your uncle is – and he's with Scott Clarke?”

Eddie's jaw clenched. “You got a problem with that?”

In his pure astonishment, Steve barely even registered Eddie's question.

“That's impossible!” he all but exclaimed. “Here – in Hawkins? How?!”

Eddie looked slightly past Steve's face, to the bare white wall behind him. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” he said. “You've seen dozens of hell monsters and walked through an alternate dimension to fight an evil sorcerer, and this is what you decide is impossible?”

“Well, it is,” Steve stubbornly said.

He remembered how he once felt about his teammate Thomas, back in his freshman year, remembered the ache in his chest exactly because of how impossible it was. He remembered Robin talking about Tammy Thompson in that bathroom stall filled with the scent of their puke. But Tammy Thompson is a girl, he had said, in his instinctive and perhaps naive confusion - not because he deemed it impossible for Robin to feel that way about a girl, but because up until that point, he had deemed it irrelevant. He knew better than anyone that those kind of feelings would flare up from time to time around certain people, but as far as he was concerned, it didn't matter. There was no way to act on it, no point in lingering on something that was impossible to have anyway.

“They've been together for over a decade,” Eddie said. His voice suddenly lacked its usual warmth; a warmth that Steve had gotten used to over the past few days; a warmth that left a weird feeling of loss behind in Steve's chest now that it wasn't there. “They make each other happy. They don't hurt anyone with it. So don't fucking tell me it's impossible, man. They love each other, and if you're gonna be a dick about that, I'm gonna have to kindly ask you to fuck the hell off.”

“Woah, woah, woah, wait,” Steve hurriedly sputtered. “I'm not – I didn't-” The words got stuck in his throat, somehow. He didn't quite know how to explain the storm that was raging inside of him, the many emotions he felt upon discovering that there were two men happily sharing their lives together, who lived in the same town as he did. Two men who were just like him, who had figured out a way to not hide away, who had somehow found their way to each other, and who had fallen in love without it being something they needed to repress.

“I didn't know – that it could be like that,” he finally managed to stutter. “I never even imagined a future like that for myself. I didn't know – I thought we were just supposed to pretend like those parts of ourselves don't exist and marry a woman. I never met anyone who did it differently.”

Finally, Eddie averted his gaze to look at him again. His eyes were a little bit wider and he was staring at him so intensely that Steve felt something stir deep in his stomach.

“Stevie,” he said, his voice quiet and so much warmer than before in a way that sent a shiver down Steve's spine. “Jesus, I'm sorry, I had no idea. I thought you were saying..." He cut himself off and inhaled deeply, slightly shaking his head. "Listen, man, there's always a choice. I'm not saying it's easy; my uncles have to hide a lot of what they mean to each other when they're in public. They're risking Scott's job, and maybe even a whole lot more if the wrong people find out about them... But there is always a choice. They're much happier together than they would've been if they had chosen to hide and marry a woman, or if they'd spent their whole lives alone.”

Steve had to take a moment to let Eddie's words sink in. Eddie merely kept looking at him, not making a single sound, patiently waiting for him to get his thoughts straight again.

“Are there more people like them, here in Hawkins?” Steve finally asked.

“Not many,” Eddie answered. “Most people who are different move to the bigger cities, where you're a bit more free to be yourself. But they're friends with this lesbian couple who lives a few streets over. And they know some people in Indy, but Wayne refuses to move there. He's too much of a small town boy, he says.” Eddie rolled his eyes at that last part, as if he could in no way comprehend the thought of preferring Hawkins over a big city like Indianapolis.

But Steve did comprehend it. Hawkins was his home. Even after everything that happened to him here, it was where he belonged. It was where everyone he cared about was. He wasn't naive, he knew that that was bound to change at some point, but he had never dared to dream about going someplace else himself. He had never even dared to dream about being someone else. Yet here he was, sitting at the bedside of a boy whose eyes he hadn't stopped thinking about for days.

Maybe it was about time to change his perception of what was possible and what wasn't.

“I know one person who's like – like me,” he admitted. He wanted to tell Eddie about Robin. He knew that there was nothing to worry about – but he also knew it wasn't up to him to share her secret. “I don't know if this is a weird idea," he continued, "but maybe we could all, like, get together sometime. Your uncle, mister Clarke, their lesbian friends...” The idea of it made him feel weirdly excited. He couldn't really imagine what it would be like, to spend a whole evening surrounded by people he had this one thing in common with.

“Not a weird idea,” Eddie told him, that soft look still shining in his big brown eyes. “Sounds awesome, actually.”

“If we do something like that...” Steve hesitated for a moment. “Would you be there too?”

Despite the stitches in his cheek, Eddie managed to smile, dimples and all. He raised a pale hand and pulled a strand of his hair across his face, like he was trying to hide something written on the skin around his lips. “I thought that was obvious,” he said with a chuckle.

Steve chuckled as well. “Just needed to be sure,” he admitted.

He stretched out his hand and put it on top of Eddie's, where it was resting on top of the sheets. It only took a few seconds: he gently squeezed Eddie's hand, then pulled back again, still nervous and not quite knowing what exactly they were headed towards. But no matter how short, the touch still sent sparks through his whole body.

“I'm glad you're alive,” he said, softly.

Eddie's smile became just a little bit wider, and a faint blush colored his pale cheeks. “Me too, big boy. Believe me, me too.”

(I wrote this bc this post by @boldlyvoid refused to leave my brain for literal months)

[louloulemons-posts]

Secret Kisses

Steve Harrington X Fem!Henderson!Reader

Summary : You and Steve are secretly dating, here are 3 times you were almost caught and the 1 time you were.

Word Count : 1.2k

Warnings : Not proofread, 3am writing, swears, pet names, FLUFFY, kisses, suggestive at parts, fem reader, no use of Y/N, Steve and reader just want to make out lol.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- First time : Driving you home and nobody’s in

You’d been hanging out at Eddies trailer, watching some horror movies and smoking a bit with your friends.

Giving the metal head a hug and waving goodbye Steve drove you and Robin home.

“See you guy’s tomorrow,” she said, kissing your cheek from the backseat and climbing out.

“Let’s get you home,” Steve smiled, taking your hand in his. “Thank you for driving me.”

“Couldn’t leave my girl stranded could I? Or worse, Eddie could’ve drove you home in his death trap!”

“Eddie can drive,” you laughed.

“Sure, doesn’t mean the vans safe.”

“You worry too much,” you sighed, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“Just want you to be safe.” The drive was quick and quiet, one of your favourite tapes of Steve’s playing. Steve pulled up to your house, no lights on inside.

“Tonight was fun,” you spoke, smiling.

“It was, we do need a proper date night though. Maybe the movies?” he asked.

“That sounds good, I’ll trust your taste in movies.” He leaned over the console to kiss you, leaning in softly.

You lips almost touched when you heard a foggy voice, “Are you coming in or not?” Dustin.

Pulling away from Steve you sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y-yeah, goodnight.”

“Night,” you smiled, climbing out the car and headed over to your brother.

“Have you been smoking?!” he exclaimed.

“Shut up!” you slammed your hand over his mouth, shoving him in the house. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” Waving at Steve before heading in yourself.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- Second time : Movie dates, sat in the dark, perfect right?

Sat in the movie theatre side by side, fingers linked, waiting for the lights to dim. You’d decided to see The Breakfast Club, after Nancy had said it was really good.

“You’re going to run out of popcorn and the movie hasn’t even started yet,” you chuckled at Steve. “It’s good!” he defended.

“Lies, but either way you’ll be grumpy 15 minutes in because you have nothing to snack on.”

“That’s why I got you snacks my love.”

“What so you can steal them?”

“Exactly that.”

“And what if I said no?”

“Well I’m sure I could persuade you..”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned closer to you, lips touching, “Yeah.” He softly pressed his lips to yours when familiar voices came.

“Okay so G6 and G7 El,” Max Mayfield spoke. “Shit,” Steve whined. The seats right in front of you. “Shit,” you repeated.

Walking down to their seats El spotted you, smiling, “Hi guys!”

“Hey,” you smiled back, nudging Steve.

“Hi,” he let out a pained grin.

“Just you two?” Max asked.

“Oh yeah, had to drag Steve with me. Nobody else would come with,” you shrugged.

“Hm, seems like Robins type of film. Eddie thought … not so much,” the redhead hummed. “Yeah exactly.”

“Should have come with us,” El said softly.

“If I’d have know you wanted to see it I would’ve, could’ve made a girls night out of it,” you smiled at her. Always having had a special place in your heart for that girl.

The lights dimmed, “Well we’ll see you after the movie,” Steve said. The pair sat down facing forward. “Guess we can’t make out now,” he sighed.

“You’re literally a horny teen.”

“Well I’m a teen and you’re hot so … I’m always horny.”

“Shush,” you laughed, punching him lightly.

“Maybe you can stay at my place?”

“Hm, if you’re lucky.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- Third time : Lunch breaks aren’t easy either.

It was Steve’s lunch break, just him on today as it was a slow Monday. He shut the door and turned the sign to close, smiling at you who’d brought him food.

Pushing you into the back room, hands on your waist, your own tangling in his hair. Lipgloss transferring onto his own lips, “Stevie,” you giggled into his mouth.

“Missed you … so much,” he spoke between kisses. “Saw me yesterday.”

“Not enough!” Pulling you as close as he could, your legs wrapped around his waist and he lifted you into a filing cabinet.

“So. Fucking. Perfect,” he kissed and kissed and kissed. His hands played with the bottom of your skirt, pulling away. Lips swollen and hair messy.

“We’ve got 20 minutes Stevie.”

“That’s plenty of time to do what I need to do to you,” he smirked, lowering himself.

The bell on the door jingled, “Steve!”

“I’m gonna kill your brother.”

“Oh I’ll help.” Tidying himself up he left the back room, you jumping down from the cabinet.

“Henderson, thought you were smart enough to know what the word closed means.”

“Ha you’re real funny. I was just wondering if you’ve seen my sister?”

Steve’s heart went to his throat and you panicked trying to keep your breathing quiet. “Nope, why?”

“Well I saw her car outside and I thought maybe we could head home together,” he explained, “She might be getting some groceries though.”

“Mhm, maybe. If she stops by I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

“Great, thanks man.” You heard the bell ring again, signalling his exit.

Walking out of the back room you sighed. “Your brothers looking for you,” he teased.

“Oh you don’t say?” Kissing the boys cheek, “I should probably go.”

He whined, “Steve if he catches us-“

“I know I know. Okay go, but next time something like that happens I’m not stopping.”

“I’ll take your word for that.” Pecking his mouth you headed out the door to find you shit head of a brother.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- The time you’re found out

You heard soft knock on your window. Not wanting to turn the light on in fear your headache would get worse, you walked over.

Pulling back the curtains, you saw a familiar face. You pulled up the window and stepped back, “What are you doing here?” you asked.

Steve climbed in (fell in) to your room, “Robin told me you weren’t very well, couldn’t really call cause you know,” he motioned to the door.

“Thought I’d come check on my girl, brought you some gatorade and snacks.”

“You, Steve Harrington, are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.” Pecking his nose, you walked back to your bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Migraine.”

“Oh baby I’m sorry. Have you taken anything?”

“Took some more tablets not too long ago, they should kick in soon.”

He sat down next to you, stoking hair gently. “Do you want me to go, leave you in peace?”

“Could you stay?”

“Course. No place I’d rather be.”

Taking off his shoes, jacket and jeans he climbed in beside you. “Come lay on me baby,” he whispered. Resting your head on his chest, you hummed, his warmth was so nice.

Running his fingers up and down your back you were quickly lulled to sleep.

Stirring awake to a knocking sound, “Yeah?” you said voice croaking, thick with sleep. Steve also woke up, giving you a sleepy smile.

“Mom said do you want breakfast, she’s made waffles,” Dustin spoke.

“Oh yeah sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Does Steve want any?” He asked through the door.

You looked at the boy, both of you wide eyed. “Hello? Does he want any?” your brother repeated.

“Oh um sure if she’s got any spare,” Steve said. Hearing you brother grumble as he walked away, you put your head back on his chest.

“Well he knows.”

“Yeah.”

“I can do this now then,” Steve smirked, kissing you square on the mouth.

“Hm, yes Mr Harrington you can.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : I wanted to do some fics with other characters soon, they don’t have to just be Stranger Things characters, I’m part of many many fandoms. So if there’s any other characters you’d like to see, let me know! 🤍

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[artiststarme]

Dead or Alive

After Spring Break, no one could find Eddie Munson dead or alive. His Uncle Wayne, the angry mob, even the police couldn’t locate him so everyone assumed he was dead. Some grieved his loss but most celebrated his apparent demise believing it to be what he deserved after killing Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Jason and hurting poor Max Mayfield.

Once the town recovered enough, Wayne bought a headstone for an empty grave and dutifully washed off the new graffiti that appeared each day. The kids of the Party mourned the loss of their idealistic Dungeon Master and disbanded Hellfire Club out of respect to him. And Robin and Steve disappeared to Steve’s empty house to grieve the loss of a friend (or so it seemed).

Because while everyone thought they were grieving and finding support in each other, they were actually caring for Eddie’s wounds and watching gay movies on Steve’s couch. They are junk food, cuddled in front of the TV, and appreciated being alive.

Steve couldn’t be around the party because he was supposed to be broken-hearted but it was the opposite. While he left the Upside Down the most recent time with more scars, both mental and physical, it also gave him everything he’d ever wanted. It took him away from the job he hated, gave him more time to spend with Robin, and it gave him a prospective boyfriend.

He felt bad keeping Eddie a secret away from the kids and his uncle but he had no other choice. Until he and Robin could brainstorm a logical explanation for his innocence and return from the dead, it’d be the three of them in hiding. Which to him, wasn’t a bad thing. Between the love of Robin and Eddie, his house felt less like a crypt and more like a home.

After a few weeks, they’d all gotten used to their solitary. Imagine their surprise when someone walks in on the three of them watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show right on the scene of Rocky showing off his fishnet clad calves. Imagine Officer Phil Callahan’s horror when his eyes landed on an injured homicidal maniac sitting half on his brother’s lap while drooling over Tim Curry. And imagine Steve’s mortification when his brother stood unmoving in the doorway of the living room with one hand on his hip and the other held over his open mouth in shock.

“WHAT IN THE FUCK IS EDWARD MUNSON DOING IN OUR PARENT’S LIVING ROOM?!” Phil shrieked, his face going red in barely concealed rage.

Steve, Eddie, and Robin all spoke at once.

“Is he? Oh my goodness, I didn’t notice. Steve, Eddie is in your house!”

“It’s just Eddie, you piece of shit.”

“Ok technically, I can explain.”

Phil just looked at them like all three of them were insane. “HE’S A KILLER!”

“No he’s not. He’s just a metalhead, Phil.”

“What is that supposed to do with anything, Steve?! I don’t care that he’s a metalhead, I care that he murdered at least three people in a week!”

Steve shot up from his seat so he was nearly eye-level with Phil. “Woah, he did not! I was with him the entire week and neither of us killed anyone.”

Phil just shook his head in confused exhaustion. “Is he dangerous?”

Steve looked him directly in the eye, “no! He didn’t do anything and he’s one of my best friends now.”

“Fine. I’m not dealing with this shit tonight. You,” he pointed at Eddie, “don’t kill anyone. And Steve, do not wake me up before ten AM unless someone is getting killed. Jesus Christ.”

He stomped up the stairs, grumbling under his breath the entire way. Meanwhile, Steve sat back down next to Eddie and gave him a small smile. “Well, that went better than expected.”

Eddie looked at him in disbelief, “did it Steve? Did it?”

(It, in fact, did not. The next morning, Steve had to tackle Phil away from the phone when he tried to call the chief and then had to hold him down while Robin rambled the entire story in an impressive four minutes. He only gave up once Steve threatened to disappear himself and Eddie (and Robin) forever without ever contacting Phil again.)

Should I make this into a longer fic? Let me know in the comments please!

[aphrogeneias]

no more tears — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's halloween night, 1986. you want to celebrate your favorite holiday after the year you and your friends just had, but after being dumped by your, now ex, boyfriend a week before puts a damp on your plans. eddie munson, however, has a different plan for you.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of a past bad relationship, petty vengeance, protective!eddie, eddie being a sweetheart. eddie in a corset, eddie in leather pants (those are worthy warnings). drinking, smoking. implied smut towards the end.

author's note: happy, very early, halloween <3 i started writing this last year and originally, it was supposed to be a four-part series, and it became this one-shot. because of that, i'm sorry if it seems rushed, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Hawkins' suburban streets were a dull blur of white picket fences and houses that looked all the same, passing through the open windows of your car, despite the cold autumn wind blowing in. Even on Halloween night, where the air was full of childlike wonder and mischief, those same houses lit up with the same old seasonal decorations, the children going trick-or-treating, your school friends going out with the best of worst intentions. It all still felt dull to you. 

Perhaps because you felt that dullness deep inside of you, dead to the world around you. Fitting for such a morbid holiday — your favorite holiday, completely ruined by someone else's decisions.

Your self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the curly-haired freshman who was currently inspecting the tapes piled in your glove compartment. You watched with interest from the corner of your eye as Dustin clicks the radio to a stop, without asking, and inserts your Blizzard of Ozz tape in the cassette player.

As the first chords of I Don't Know started echoing through the car, you teased, "Since when do you like these?"

"Since when do you care about what I listen to?"

Most days, you could deal with the kid's presumption, it was quite endearing, actually. That night, though, all you managed was to sigh as dramatically as you could.

"You've been hanging out with Munson a little too much." You pointed, "What's next? You're gonna grow out your hair like Mike is doing?"

"Mike isn't growing his hair out because of… Oh."

"You used to be more observant, Dusty."

You smiled at his silly expression, blue eyes wide with realization. It was the first time they could bring out a smile from you that evening, and you could tell that the teens in the backseat could feel the tension lift a little bit. 

The accidental mention of the metalhead made your mind wander once more. You wondered if you'd see him tonight, even if just for a moment, and if you'd be able to look and, perhaps, melt at one of his lazy smiles and cute dimples without feeling guilty for the first time since you met him. 

If being able to reciprocate Eddie Munson's lingering stares was the reward you got after being suddenly broken up with a week before Halloween, then you could start seeing an end to your current misery.

You didn't let yourself hang on to false hope, though. You were still nursing a broken heart and delusion wasn't going to help with it — but going home to a warm blanket, cheap wine and a bunch of horror movie VHS tapes that your Family Video friends had graciously delivered to your house after a very persuasive phone call.

After years of friendship, Steve Harrington still couldn't resist your pouting, even from a distance.

"Don't be mean. You're being awfully mean today, did you know that? Loosen up a little." Dustin snapped, but with little bite to his words.

You turned to him again, "Can you blame me?"

"Leave her alone, butthead." From her place in the backseat, Erica Sinclair, in her meticulously pink Barbie costume, interjects. "She's already doing us a favor and you're trying to be a smartass?"

Her older brother and Max Mayfield completely ignored Erica and Dustin's following little back and forth, stuck in their own little teenage love affair — and if, for only a moment, you were jealous of the easy, uncomplicated way they talked and held hands in the small space between their bodies, you shook it off just as quickly — as you winked at the youngest Sinclair from the rearview mirror.

You'd never tell anyone, but Erica had always been your favorite.

Their conversation was once again forgotten, overshadowed by your racing thoughts and eagerness to get home as soon as you could, until you parked in front of Steve's house, where your younger friends would enjoy their official party of their High School years. There had been a long time without any ragers at Harringtons', not since Steve became one of the losers, but after the events of last Spring, he thought we could all use some innocent (probably not that innocent on his side, god only knows that boy needed to get laid), spooky fun.

You'd thoroughly agreed before your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, put an end to all of your plans.

"Listen," you started, shutting the door of the driver's side of your car a little too violently while the kids gathered up outside, "if you get in any kind of trouble, call me. If you're gonna drink, or do any kind of drugs…" You're interrupted by groans and whines of 'really?' and 'we're not going to!', "don't do it alone, okay? And drink lots of water! Better safe than sorry, babies."

Most of that advice was just to mess with them, you knew they weren't anything like you when you were their age, but you cared too much about those miscreants to pretend that monsters and secret government organizations were the only obstacles they'd have to face in their teen years.

It's all a flurry of rolling eyes and quiet mumblings of "okay, whatever, we weren't gonna do any of that anyway" before they leave across the street to find the host of the party that was slowly, but surely, starting to fill in, groups of people coming into the house from both sides of the street, music echoing through the walls and into the evening air. Your heart clenched, heavy in your chest, wishing you could let go of the ache that was pulling you down and allow yourself to feel alive again, maybe just for one night.

You just about missed the pair of warm, brown eyes that watched you slouch back into your car and drive away.

On the other side of the street, Eddie Munson stood on the pristine front yard of the Harringtons' house, taking a long hit of his cigarette and rubbing the back of his hand over the eyeshadow spread on his eye, cursing and coughing when he realized the black stain it left behind on his skin.

He was uncomfortable and bored, listening to the deep bass line of Blondie's rapture coming from the house behind him, Debbie Harry's soft voice lulling him into a steady rhythm. He knew he was pushing it, coming to a place full of people, of people who half hated him at worst, half mistrusted him at best, even after his name was cleared. Worst of all, none of them understood his costume, which, to him, was the biggest insult of all.

Not knowing who Alice Cooper was supposed to be was one of the biggest treasons in his own, personal, Munson doctrine.

Now, he stood there, regretting every decision he had made that night, his leather pants pulling a little too tight on his legs and feeling a little too tempted to scrub the black eyeshadow from his face, thinking about a way to let his friends down gently when he bails on them.

His discomfort lasted until he saw your car pull up, and suddenly, leaving felt like a very, very bad idea.

Eddie was used to admiring you from a distance. From when he saw you for the first time, that fateful night at Reefer Rick's boathouse, it was all he could do without making a fool of himself. He didn't know how to carry himself around you, too caught up on your beauty, on your wit, or on how absolutely unattainable you were, to actually become close to you.

He watched you as one would watch the midday sun, high in the sky, with a hand in front of his eyes, protecting himself from being fully consumed by your light.

When you exited the car — Henderson, Mayfield and the Sinclairs following close behind — he noticed two things: your lack of a costume (or, rather, the fact that you were wearing something that was probably your pajamas, and looked incredible while at it), and the lack of a douchebag boyfriend beside you. 

Before he could walk over, perhaps use the kids as an excuse to talk to you, you left. Eddie was left halfway through the yard, a hand limp to his side as his cigarette laid long forgotten, and what must have been a ridiculous, confused expression on his face.

It didn't take long until Dustin and Erica found him, while Lucas and Max entered the house. 

"Hey, uh… where's Y/L/N going? Is she not… Is she not staying?" He swore he tried to act casual, but he knew from the expression on both his friends' faces that he wasn't doing a great job.

"Does it look like she's staying?" Erica crossed her arms, looking as intimidating as a little girl in all pink and glitter could look like. All he did was raise an eyebrow, and got one eyebrow raised right back at him.

Dustin was more understanding, in his Luke Skywalker costume, orange pilot suit and all. "She's not feeling well, man. Steve asked her if she could drive us because Nancy was already driving Mike and the Byers, but she went home."

"Oh." Again, he tried, to no avail, to hide the disappointment in his voice. Eddie Munson was, by no means, a good actor. "Do you know what happened?"

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but Erica beat him to the punch. "You know, I think she could really use some company tonight. No one wants to be alone on Halloween night, don't you think?"

She pulled Dustin away and towards the front door, eyes wise beyond her years giving him one final look before disappearing inside. 

Eddie knew she couldn't hear him as he screamed "I owe you one, Sinclair!" and rushed to the end of the street where his old van was parked, a sliver of hope and renewed excitement rushing through him like a live wire.

Scratch about what he said about regretting leaving his house that night, he had forgotten all about that as he sped to your place, a heavy guitar riff thundering hot on his trail.

You heard him before you saw him.

There was a horror film playing in your television, a blonde teenager running from a serial killer rolling on the screen, her terrified shrieks and the crescendo of the soundtrack filling the living room — not that you've been paying attention, you haven't been paying attention since a little after the beginning of the movie. You were too busy drinking your usual, cheap red wine straight from the bottle and stuck in your own thoughts, lying on the couch with only a blanket and your cat for company.

It approached slowly, the sound of his van's stereo. Then, it grew and grew, Quiet Riot's "Metal Health" seeming to echo through the entire neighborhood. It made you tumble out of the couch, feeling the effects of the alcohol rush to your head all at once, and running to the nearest window. You're still a tiny bit dizzy when you see him, after he stopped the engine and the music stopped, skipping out of the van and towards your front door.

You'd barely caught a glimpse of Eddie before you ran from the window, afraid to get caught. A million questions surged in that moment, the seconds between recollecting yourself and answering the loud ring of your doorbell, knowing who was waiting for you outside. How did he know you were home? Wasn't he busy tonight? What made him want to come to your place of all places?

All thoughts were cut short when you opened the door and saw him.

Under your front porch light, stood Eddie Munson, looking like every wet dream you had ever had.

Dressed in a tight, black tank top, a latex corset wrapped around his slim wait, and even tighter leather pants. Pale chest bare, it was the first time you were seeing his tattoos after visiting him at the hospital, months ago. He leaned in your doorway as soon as you opened it, a gentle smile in his full lips, brown eyes lined with a smudged layer of dark eyeshadow. Your legs might have given out if you didn't hold on to the wall. 

"Hey, Eddie." A greeting comes out as a gasp, letting out the breath that was stuck inside your throat. You hoped he couldn't tell how flustered you were, but if he did, you would blame the wine. "Is everything okay? Are the kids okay?"

It dawned on you that that must have been the reason he came all the way over to your house. You tried to bury down the wave of sudden anxiety when you watched his face fall slightly, before he replied “No, no, everything is fine. Uh… I just wanted to check on you, actually.”

The expression on your face — eyebrows pinched together in confusion — must have said it all, because then, he explained himself. “The littlest Sinclair said you might be needing some company tonight, but didn’t say why. I figured that if none of them were staying with you, then I might, if that’s okay.”

Eddie’s demeanor was uncharacteristically shy. He avoided your gaze, looking at the floor while speaking, but that only made you fonder — even then, he was still as sincere as always. Your heart did a little flip in your chest, warming you from the inside out, as you opened the door enough to let him pass, silently welcoming him in.

“Erica said that?”

“Yeah. Got me worried there for a second.” He eyed you with mirth from under his wild bangs while he toed off his combat boots and left them beside the other shoes on the floor near the door. That sweet, domestic sight didn’t go unnoticed but you had other things occupying your mind, such as a reminder to thank Erica for meddling in your Halloween night plans.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Just not in the mood to party, that’s all.”

“See, that doesn’t sound like you, Y/N.”

“How do you know that?”

“I guess I just know more about you than you’d think.”

You were still both standing in the small hallway that led to your living room, now staring at each other. Eddie felt out of place, next to the cream and beige shades of the wallpaper your mom chose when you moved there, in his all black ensemble, all leather and spikes and wild hair, but at the same time, you felt like he could belong there, if he stayed long enough.

You wished he would.

“I don’t know about that,” you sighed, “but if you want to stay and watch some movies, that would be more than okay.”

He smiled and leaned back, looking taller and impossibly handsome, dark eyes shimmering. You almost melted on your spot, but again, you wanted to blame it on the wine. 

“Lead the way, babe.”

At some point during the night, between one gruesome film and another, and a couple of bottles of wine being passed back and forth, you had scooted closer and closer together on your couch, until you were almost pressed flush against each other. Eddie was afraid to move and break whatever spell you seemed to be under, because he hadn't felt comfortable like that in a long time.

It was easy being around you. It hadn't been easy for Eddie to be around a lot of people, not since Spring Break, but with you, it took absolutely no effort to just be. To let go, to let his mind rest, to just focus on how warm the skin of your thigh was under your sweatpants, almost touching his, to make you laugh with his witty commentary of the awful movies you'd chosen to watch, to watch how beautiful you looked under the blue light of the television whenever you looked away from him.

He had it bad, that much he knew. Been smitten for a long time, enamored with the girl just out of his reach, but close enough to admire without guilt, but he wasn't about to let his feelings be known quite yet. Not when you were so close, so perfect, so… approachable, for the first time ever.

Eddie had never liked your boyfriend, from the first time he met him — just another Hawkins rich boy, swim team star, on his way to some fancy college out of state, and worst of all, he got to call you his. Unlike Steve Harrington, who managed to sway his usually unshakable opinion, Andrew just proved him right every time he had the unfortunate opportunity to meet him.

The first time he saw him was right after the dust had settled. He had just walked out of the hospital as a free man, mysteriously forgiven by the law enforcement that just a few days earlier was set on kicking him while he was down, and was received by his friends back at his trailer, a small committee complete with a handmade "welcome back!" sign and a cake baked by you. 

You, who welcomed him back with open arms and never stopped fighting for him, even if you'd only officially met a week before.

You'd spent that afternoon in his bedroom, along with his friends and his uncle, all sitting around his bed and reminiscing, happy to be there, happy to be alive. Still recovering from your wounds, seen and unseen, leaning on each other like a lifeline. He remember holding your hand that day, acutely aware of the ring on your finger, but doing it anyway — your hold never faltered, instead, you ran your thumb across the skin of his hand and smiled.

Was that what bliss felt like?

Later that day, you were the first to leave. Andrew came to pick you up, Dustin announced as he was the one to answer the door. A frown made its way to your face, if only for a second, and that was enough to make Eddie decide he didn't like the guy. Not only that but he insisted on walking you to the door, ignoring the protests coming from all around the room.

Walking slowly, as much as his still fresh bite wounds would allow, he let you lead him to his front door, a gentle hand on his back, guiding him. He didn't let himself feel bad for using his battered state to let you touch him without guilt, he could do that later, after the comforting warmth of your touch had stopped branding his skin. 

When you opened the door, that's when Eddie saw him. He knew Andrew hadn't been there during Spring Break, away with his family to some tropical destination, far from the horror they, you, had to endure. Eddie could tell he didn't care much either, letting you tend to your also still fresh wounds, both physical and mental, by yourself most of the time after he got back, only calling you when he needed something.

Eddie tells himself he would never let you out of his sight, if you were his girl, but there's also a lot of other things he likes to think about when he considers that scenario.

He watched you say goodbye, squeezing his shoulder before leaving and descending his trailer's stairs, down to your boyfriend's nice car and cold arms, leading you away from him, but not before leering him down at his own doorway, a condenscending, degrading look Eddie knew a little too well by now.

Not a word was spoken between the two, but there was no need, Eddie already made hating him into a new hobby.

With that sudden rememberance, your soft giggles bringing him back to the present, Eddie couldn't help but ask.

"What happened to your boyfriend?"

Without missing a beat, you chuckled, and responded without looking at him. "He dumped me."

"He what?" His question sounded a lot louder and high-pitched than he had intended. Eddie thought it would be easier for you to have dumped him other than the opposite.

Who would be stupid enough to let you go like that?

With a long sigh, you clicked the remote to pause the movie, and turned around to face him fully. He tried not to show how disappointed he was to lose the physical contact you had at that moment, but his hand clenched almost involuntarily, eager to reach out and pull you back. Where you belonged, his traitorous mind added.

"Dumped me, yeah." You sat with your legs crossed and he did the same, turning to hear you. "Last week. Unceremoniously, might I add, through the phone, even. I heard through the grapevine he's already dating someone else, but that might be just rumors, or maybe not, honestly I expect anything from him at this point."

Eddie's mind was reeling. "Was that why you didn't want to go out tonight?"

"That's part of the reason." You nod. "I just really don't wanna risk seeing him and Halloween is my favorite holiday, I don't want it more ruined than it already is."

The urge to punch the guy in the face was strong, stronger than it was when he was still recovering, when you were still together. It made him restless, fidgeting in his seat. The hand that lied limp at his side finally reached out, sitting on your knee and squeezing it only slightly. "I'm sorry. I know that it's not worth much, but I really am. You deserve better."

A weak smile formed on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes. Eddie desperately wanted to make your face light up again. A brief idea struck him, then.

"Do you know where he might be tonight?"

"Benny's, probably. I don't know. I don't want to know." Despite your distress, you looked adorable with your nose scrunched and your head down, picking on your already chipped nail polish. Unable to help himself, Eddie finally reached out, his first unmistakably purposeful display of affection towards you — a little unsure, a little clumsy, but it still felt right — bringing his curled index finger below your chin, gently tipping your head up, making you meet his eyes.

"You might wanna know about what I'm thinking."

His voice was soft, but his dark eyes were full of mischief.

It was late when you got to Benny's. Not that anyone there would mind, the music inside was blasting loud enough that it could be heard for miles, and the people who were outside were all too intoxicated to mind your presence.

The basketball team, and seemingly every other jock affiliation at school, had a different party happening on Halloween night. They must have not gotten their big suburban house for themselves this year, Eddie thought. He would usually try to crash these parties, make some money out of the only few times these jocks didn't abhor his mere presence to his advantage, but things had changed for him, and for all it's worth, he had better things to do tonight.

Getting your ex-boyfriends back from what he did to you was his first priority. The second was making you forget all about him.

You and Eddie must have looked like quite a pair. He was still in his full costume, standing out from the more boring looking costumes the popular crowd opted for that evening, and you had put on the first outfit you saw after he'd told you his plan and whisked you away in his van. An old black sweater and ripped jeans, he saw your mismatched socks before you put on your boots, the ones that were already near the door. 

To him, you looked perfect, but he could tell how uncomfortable you were with all the people around you. Your ex's friends, he assumed. Eddie wondered if you were ever at these parties, and if Andrew even cared about how you felt about them. He doesn't want to think too much about it or he could feel himself get mad again.

"Hey," he brought a hand to your back, moving it up and down in a soothing manner, "we'll be in and out of here, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I know." Your smile was small, but Eddie was relieved to see it anyway. He promised himself he'd make convincing you to leave your house worth it, and he'll keep his promise.

"So… which one is his car?"

He watched you point to a tan-colored Jeep towards the end of the improvised parking lot. Silently, he grabbed your hand and led the way towards it. It wasn't a very well thought out plan, the one came up with whilst he seethed thinking about an asshole like that dumping a girl like you. It demanded serious action, in his humble opinion.

Property damage, more like it.

Eddie had been trying to stay out of trouble since the events of last March. He'd been officially cleared of all charges, something to do with the reappearance of Chief Hopper and his connections with the government. The details were foggy, he barely remembered signing all of those documents, still in his hospital bed and hazy from the medication. Wayne probably knew more than he did, but Eddie never asked too many questions.

He tried to go on as normally as he could, working odd jobs here and there as his body recovered, doing his best to heal his mind too. He stopped selling, graduated in May, spent more time with his new found friends — his new found family — and his old ones. Started dreaming about a girl who belonged to someone else, foolishly hoping that someday she would be his.

Not so foolish now, those dreams seemed.

Keeping out of trouble was surprisingly easy after you'd barely escaped life in prison, or worse — Eddie discovered there were far worse things than getting locked up, or living up to his family name. After all that, a minor misdemeanor was worth it if it was going to make you smile, at least in his eyes.

When you approached the Jeep, he could tell there was something going on in there. If he noticed, you noticed it as well, inching closer to it, slowly, trying to not get caught. The car was not empty, there were two people in front seats, making out — your ex and a girl Eddie did not recognize.

The first thing he felt was your grip on his hand tighten, and when he turned his body around to look at you, you looked away. Heartbroken, a dejected look on your pretty face, lips turned into a frown. It was almost like you didn't want to be seen at that moment, trying to hide, but Eddie couldn't let you. His own heart breaking for you, but willing to do whatever it took to mend it.

He took your face in both of his hands, urging you to look at him. "You don't need to get any closer, all right? Let me handle it, it was my idea. We won't spend more than five minutes here, I promise. Then I'll take you home, or we can go wherever you want. Far away from him, okay?"

"Okay. It's okay. I trust you, Eddie." 

The chill he's been feeling having foregone his jacket is readily forgotten as he takes in how sweet your eyes look in the low light of the street. He runs his thumb over your cheek just briefly before letting you go, going over to Andrew's car.

Thankfully for the height of the car, it was easy for Eddie to crouch and quickly grab the butterfly knife he usually kept on the inside pocket of his jacket — for safety measures, especially after being almost eaten alive, he didn't feel well without a weapon within close proximity. Call him crazy, but maybe there's always demobats to be fought, or asshole ex-boyfriends to screw over.

He cringed as he noticed the car starting to shake slightly, and prayed that you'd kept looking away. Eddie made a quick job of it — light on his feet, he slashed each of the four tires, and as he watched them slowly deflate, he ran towards you. You looked at him, covering your mouth to hide your nervous laughter, and he put his finger to his mouth, signaling you to keep quiet.

Together, you ran. Eddie didn't know who grabbed whose hand first, but when he came to himself you were running in the direction of his van, and you were giggling openly, making him smile until his cheeks hurt in turn. When you stopped, panting and still laughing, none of you let go.

"I can't believe we did that."

"I did that. You just watched, sweetheart."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled him a little closer by the hand you were holding. "Still, you're my hero, Eddie Munson."

"Couldn't stand thinking about what that dick did to you. He never deserved you in the first place."

He thought he'd said something wrong when you didn't say anything right away, but he was pleasantly surprised when you finished closing the distance between you, capturing his bottom lip between yours in a delicate kiss. He stood there, shocked for a second, before bringing his hands to your waist, drawing you to his chest.

Your arms around his neck, his traveling to your back, the sound of the deep bass coming from the inside of Benny's drowning everything around you. You were all he could feel, your soft lips melding with his, taking in all the little noises you made when he touched you just right. Feeling you under his touch was kind of surreal, like he couldn't believe it was happening just yet.

He swallowed the sigh you let out, just before drawing away, looking for air. "What was that?"

"Just a thank you, for now." You pointed with another peck to his lips.

"For now? What's for later?"

"Take me home like you promised and you'll find out."

"Baby, you don't need to…," not even he expected the pet name, or what followed, "you know, thank me like that. Or at all! I wasn't expecting anything from you…"

Before he could say anymore, you silenced him with another kiss, this time sucking on his bottom lip and letting him deepen it, taking the opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth, getting lost in the taste of you. Eddie walked you back until you hit the side of his van, his hand covering the back of your head, softening the impact.

He couldn't bear to hold himself back any longer, and you didn't seem to want him to slow down either, pulling him impossibly closer by his hair, making him moan into your mouth.

"I know you weren't, but I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head, running his hands under your sweater, feeling your warm skin under your shirt, "Not longer than me, I'm sure."

"Wanna bet?"

The rest of the night was a blur. When Eddie woke up the next morning, naked on your bed, all he could remember was spending through the streets, dividing his already thin attention between kissing you and the steering wheel, drinking wine on your couch until you started taking your clothes off, and stumbling up the stairs while he removed his.

You slept peacefully beside him, your hair like a halo around your head, faint purple hickies on your neck. Though his mind was foggy, and his head ached with a hangover he was sure to blame your cheap wine, he didn't regret a thing he did the night before.

Later, when you woke up, after he spent looking at your ceiling and wondering how did he get so lucky, you got under the sheets and thanked him some more.

[scentedpepper]

Attempted Vehicular Manslaughter

BILLY HARGROVE X MALE READER

Summary: Max Mayfield hosts a pool party.

Content Warnings: Use of the F-slur, Use of Queer in a derogatory manner, Injuries, Verbal Abuse, Abusive Household Dynamics, Reader makes a 'if I wanna kms' joke

Other Pairings: Nancy Wheeler x Male Reader, Jonathan Byers x Male Reader, Max Mayfeild x Male Reader, Mike Wheeler x Male Reader

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Oh brother we got a chatterbox

Had a dream about this ya'll

Readers a little sassy

Reader has a little brother

Reader has a bit of savior complex

Readers also kinda impulsive?

It's 3 am

_________________________________________

The grass was rough and patchy in the backyard, filled to the brim with wilted daisies and weeds crawling through the sprinklers. It was hardly worth a note of much consideration, as there had been nothing of great importance to discuss. There were many trees boarding the house. Pine or oak, maybe. And one dying cherry tree that was a stand alone in the yard. That was about the extent of anything substantial past the old silver fence that matched your shoes.

Nearest the house, under the shade, were several lawn chairs designated for the so-called "chaperones". The older brothers and sisters of the tweens. But really, it was nothing more than a cover-up.

Something to appease the parents' of the Hargrove house because Max knew it was odd to be friends with a group of kids the same age as her brother. Even her mother, who'd tried to remain impartial to any situation, narrowed her eyes and shifted her purse tighter when the suggestion of more than a couple 17 year old's parading around her house came.

Your mom was just happy you got along, let alone made some real friends outside the books, and encouraged the notion. More parental control, she reasoned. Less chances you were off with someone who intended on trouble.

Of course, all the shit about fighting monsters and being on the brink of death with these same friends wasn't factored in.

But no one besides them and the sheriff's deputy needed to know that.

The first time you had met the kids was, admittedly, what one would refer to as a kerfuffle. Riled up and trying to be dominant. Of course, because Billy was there, it spiraled even farther, and someone's head nearly got bashed into a rock.

That someone being you of obviously, after you'd been goaded into the fight and decided to step up. And boy, did Billy hate to lose. Hated being talked down to by a smaller kid who barely had pimples left on his face, let alone bulk.

You put up a good fight. You had a mean hit, especially the lick you gifted to Billy's chest, knocking the wind out of him when it connected. There was a bruise on his ribcage for days after and all the satisfaction he could possibly imagine at knowing it was from you.

But then he nearly killed you so, things turned sour rather quickly.

Which led to a rather impromptu welcome into the group of misfits, the lot of them. Unannounced and unexpected, you marched into the party after your small break down. Ready to be let in and accepted.

Finding out about the Upside Down was a mere accident.

You hadn't gone out of your way to befriend a group of children. Hadn't expected much in regards to friendship period even after getting your ass kicked by Billy Hargrove. Let alone a lifetime, one built from the shared experience of the horrors that lurk just underneath town, attached to one particular boy of the group.

But here you were. Standing in the backyard of Max's home like an idiot with the sun bearing down at your back. The late summer day nearly reached over 100 degrees as the clock neared the noon hour. Something you might have missed otherwise if it wasn't for the black analog watching you closely every time you renetered the house for a drink.

The main gaggle of kids swam and screamed every few seconds, trying to drag you into a half-baked game of Marco Polo that had the older Hawkins teens eyeing each other with concern.

You tapped the top of your can to ease the anxiety, looking around the edge of the yard again, past Max's mother, who waved awkwardly and would come around every so often, offering drinks or food to you, Nancy, and Jonathan.

"Nervous?" Jonathan prodded in his way, looking up from the half eaten sandwhich Will had taken two large bites from, making sure he had gotten his fill and packing it away when he received two big thumbs up from his little brother before he rentered the pool.

"Ah. " You leaned against the lawn chair, rolling your neck before looking over. "Expecting Billy to jump out from one of these corners, " you gesture towards the many hiding places you have spotted in the yard. "cause a scene. "

Nancy shifted uncomfortably, twisting her skirt slightly. "Not yet, at least. " She added while fidgeting with the button over the waist. "I thought he'd show up at least half-way through this thing. "

"Yeah, " you agreed, "thats why I'm–"

"On edge?" Jonathan filled in for you, a soft smile gracing his lips as Will looked over.

"Ready, he means. " Mike piped up, his hand was fully plunged into the cooler chest, blindly shifting around the ice as he looked over at the three.

Something in the tension held firm in the pit of your stomach, because the only times that this happened was whenever a confrontation was supposed to take place.

And judging from all the past events that had occurred, however mundane or fantastical they may be, this was probably going to end badly in more than just a couple of ways.

You'd managed to keep pretty calm in the past concerning Billy. Kept a level head about whatever shit he'd decided to cause that week. But something felt wrong today. That air in your gut had been hard to shake.

And the fact he had yet to make an appearance so far, did very little in easing you. And apparently everyone else involved.

"Don't know what his fucking problem is. " You curse, sitting up in the chair, "Never waits long to start shit."

In fact, you can almost pinpoint the time he entered the premises, an excuse to blame him for the sudden tightening in your gut and the goosebumps on your skin. Yet, he hadn't entered the backyard once since he got home. He stayed holed up in his room the entire day and that much was evident every time you, or Nancy, or Jonathan or one of the kids entered the house and heard the rock music blasting from his bedroom.

He hadn't even made a shadow to have showed his face.

For hours you waited.

Hours of worry and unease ate away at your gut while the rest of the party commenced unhindered.

And yet, it seemed all but for nothing in the grand scheme of things. Because as the sun started to lower from its zenith, you and the rest grew more tired and eventually, the temperature started to cool to a point where splashing around in the pool was no longer appropriate.

The kids came clamoring out, dripping in more chemicals than water, screaming and laughing in the process. It was getting near the five hour mark by then.

Your mind was heavy when you stood up to go inside, nearly tripping when your eyes clashed with the eldest person in the home, the both of you freezing awkwardly in the middle of the walk.

Both you and Max's mother were silent in each others presence. Stoic if there was ever a word for it.

Neil always seemed to be staring off into nothing, zoned out to some far away place only those who drowned themselves in alcohol and other momentary pleasures existed. They didn't interact, besides maybe the occasional conversation starter, or nod in passing whenever a person came too close for an inch of comfort. Not unusual in your opinion of strained marriages.

You began to speak, went to get yourself out of this weird positioning you've seemed to found yourself in. But Susan beat you to it.

"Can you do me a favor?" She beckoned before turning around and trotting off into the kitchen. Already assuming you would listen. You usually did. There weren't any hidden agendas for her actions and nothing against you personally.

She held some power that you wished wasn't. You would take just about any job that required you to be away from the current obstacles of your personal life. But as she turned back to look at you with that indescribable air and knowing nod, she had beaten you.

"Whats up?" You replied, voice more gravely then you meant it to be as you walked up behind her. She was sticking something into the microwave.

"Bye, Y/N/N. " Nancy had emerged from the Hargrove bathroom when she stood on her toes to place a friendly kiss on your cheek before joining Jonathan.

"See ya, Nance. " You say as the dark haired girl glided away, passing a wave to Jonathan and then they were out the front door.

The house was mostly empty now with nearly all the kids back home, and Dustin and Max tucked away in her room, waiting for Dustin's mother. There was enough silence now that you were itching to leave. The house had settled quiet, but you couldn't describe it as comfortable. There was a ribbed blanket across the couch that had obviously been sat on by its dishelved look.

The TV was on but the volume had been lowered so much that you were better off listening to Billy's faint music from down the hall for entertainment.

Water rushed from somewhere on the other side of the house and the distinct slam of a door being pulled shut gave you the visual to what you were hearing. Your little brother, most likely. You'd seen him dip down the hallway like he was about to shit himself the moment Nancy exited the bathroom.

You shifted around, placing your backside agaisnt the counter as you found new things to look at. Languidly, you watched, senses picking out different things around the house to latch on to. The light green walls, the ugly brown patterns on the carpet, the hum of the refrigerator that, strangely enough, harbored no family photos, just magnets with various corny sayings.

Your eyes lingered on the fridge.

Everything here was simple. Blank like a fresh canvas of dry paint. Apart from the dishes left in the sink and the few items of clothing to be picked up off the ground, it felt oddly wrong for an occupied residence.

"Y/N?"

A shift in the environment rippled over your skin and something felt charged but not in a fearful sort of way. You're pulled from your small internal worry by the same woman from before.

"Billy hasn't come from his room all day, mind taking this to him?"

Susan's got a glass plate in her hand, slightly extended our towards you. It's filled at every turn with food she'd transfered from the tupperware after the ding of the microwave you hadn't quite heard.

That same gut feeling crawled up your insides again, but you blamed the way your throat tightened on the anxiety. Why it was something now and not earlier, you can't be sure.

But, if there's one thing you learned from movies and popular tv shows, it's never to interrupt the motherfucker when he's listening to rock. But, here's your excuse. So, with a small nod and the plate in your hand, you try to shake it all away.

Because the worst that could happen is you get your ass beat again.

Stepping up to the wood slated door gave your lungs a run for their money. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the atmosphere and the pressure collapsed the walls around you. Only breathing through your nose you shook the fear away with a raised fist to the door, clenched the plate in your opposite hand.

Bass rattled through the floor and past the wooden door, you're graced with the faint sounds of the guitar on the stereo. There were bits of vocals in the background, a baritone voice that spoke. And perhaps that was part of the appeal. Your fingers danced on the metal that resided at the entrance. It felt cool on your skin.

You knocked again after a few seconds. Nothing sounded on the other side of the door but you were still unsure if Billy could hear you above the music. Maybe he'd turn it down once his father returned from whatever place he'd ventured off to in the night. But you didn't exactly have that time to be waiting around, despite your own fathers late tendencies.

You took a moment to think if you should just leave the plate on the floor, let him pick it up, and try to call a ride. You exhaled quickly, shifting your balance onto your other hip.

Before you even touched the doorknob with a single digit, the music turned down significantly and suddenly the atmosphere was more intense than you'd anticipated.

Which, was the new normal.

But, still.

Things felt off. The pressure in your bones caused your limbs to rise upward, to defend yourself, to at least put yourself in some position that wouldn't leave you open to attack.

For what?

You didn't know.

Because all Billy did was peer up at you from the crack in his door. Nothing significant yet his stare was nothing less than striking. Those blue things could put the oceans to shame, rivaling even the sky in its vivid colors. They were a mirror.

They shifted to the food, briefly. Then immediately returned back to you as the speaker could barely emit its sound.

You watched as the boy straightened, sighed and then opened the door wider, leaving the frame unguarded as he trailed off into his room.

The door held open but his gaze disappeared into the space on his mattress, and the music lowered a touch, no longer loud enough to break the door from its hinges but loud enough that Billy had to raise his voice over it to be properly heard.

You took a cautious step forward after staring at the boys backside, his attire didn't leave much to imagination but his half nude state was the least of your discernment seeing as one, you were fashioned the same way and two, Billy Hargrove was wordlessly inviting you into his room.

You thought maybe this was some kind of trick, a ploy to get you cornered, so your eyes danced over him in brief, consistent glances as you proceeded forward.

He was sitting by his window, a cigarette stuck between his two fingers as he silently stared off into the the darkness the world outside offered.

It was strange. Seemingly off guard as he propped the knee of one leg against the window, giving a free range to his left to lean. Hair swept over the shoulder to show part of his sharp jawline, which dimmed only with each intake of the deadly nicotine.

The room was bland save for a few posters, white walls, brown dresser pressed against a corner and a night stand tucked at the opposite. Clothes were tossed about, either on the floor or hung up half assed on something that you could only guess as a proper hanger.

His nightstand was covered in trash and empty beer cans and you thought of shoving them away before deciding to place the plate on his bed instead.

You spared him a last glance after the action, perplexed by the fact he was just so— quiet. Which, was certainly odd to everyone at least within half a mile from here. Usually the moment you entered his space, his bubble, he erupted like an animal defending its territory.

You decided not to push your luck. Because right now, it felt like the deadly cat across the African plains simply hadn't noticed you. And so your steps were as carefully placed as they had been when you entered. It was almost relaxing despite the looming feeling from the boys demeanor.

Billy felt a wave, a sort of ripple through the air as the presence of another remained in the room. He didn't bother to speak, only raised the unlit cigarette to his lips in a curious manner and took an unsteady puff, letting the wind carry the smoke out the screen. There was a storm, one he had sensed earlier but was hard to make out amongst the many things that had clouded his mind with anger.

Luckily, the only thing he could blame his outburst on earlier this morning was exhaustion, a clear sign of his lack of sleep from the night before which would easily explain his half dead posture and irritability that had pissed off nearly everyone around him.

Another explanation for his hideout in his room but one you couldn't quite understand.

You neared the exit when the floorboards creaked just as they had before and you almost wanted to freeze in your place. Like the cat would come pouncing now, mauling you to death.

"Not gonna make a show of it?" Came Billy's voice, it was low and calm but you caught the slight strain of it. As if he needed a clear of his throat to even be fully heard.

"A show of what?" You cast a glance over your shoulder, brows knit.

The blonde gestured with his lips, the subtle shift in his elbow drawing attention to the stick of tobacco. "I was waiting for some goddamn spectacle, L/N. "

"I don't know what you're talking about, Billy. " You sounded exasperated already and you stepped over a black shirt with a design you couldn't quite decipher from its crumpled up state. You made sure not to add anymore scratches to the ground and turned around, placing your back firmly against the door frame.

Billy's muscles became tense with the new body turned on him and he felt the wave again, the stirring of new energy entering the atmosphere.

But you had simply done so so that your back wasn't uncomfortably to him when you left.

"Whatever. " Was all Billy seemed to say before shutting you out, shoving that fucking piece of shit plate away from him. And in the split second your brain focused on how fast food was supposed to get cooled and not nearly three seconds after swallowing his cancer stick Billy must've caught the attention of the devil himself.

There was no denying the jagged yell, the shuffling in his voice like someone was gripping his head and holding it under water. You jumped away, eyes as wide as saucers as Billy's bedroom door flung open, smacking the adjacent wall with a loud slam that nearly cracked the plaster from the force.

And yet, his voice was a lot less louder than his grand entrance. "Hey, shit face. Why don't you make yourself useful instead of sitting around all day, having our guests, " he gestured to you, "bring you your own fucking food. "

You moved a step back, almost tripping on your own footing from your struggle to balance yourself without the solid sense of feeling. Your eyes darted frantically between the two people within your viewing distance, and you could barely make out Susan a few feet away who had her hand clasped on Max's shoulder.

She was ushering her daughter to their bedroom but Max refused, and the red head stood beside the door with a wary look.

"Get up. And give him a ride home. " Another gesture to you and when you looked towards the entrance of Billy's room again Neil was taking up the entire frame.

"That's really not–" You began but stopped as both of the parents turned to look at you with an appalled look. It was nothing personal but you doubted Billy even knew where you lived and the only time you ever rode with him was pervious to when he'd beat your ass.

"My dad–" You tried again.

"He won't answer the phone, much less pick you up. " Susan jumped in, though the hesitation on her voice made you doubt if that was her plan all along. "Your brother got a ride with the Henderson's. "

"Put on a shirt, stop acting like a balless queer, and go. " Again Neil thrust a drawn out, mocking tone, like his son couldn't comprehend basic sentences and he stepped out of the way to make room for your departure.

Billy's got a storm brewing in his expression and there was one moment where his eyes met yours and you were sure you'd drown in all the hate there was.

You didn't get a chance to argue about the amount of time it would take to get there and about how you would manage on your own. In fact, something in Max's eyes told you it'd be better not to. So you pressed your lips against each other as Billy grabbed his keys and pushed past you.

You watched Billy stalk past everyone, a gruff 'Yes, Sir' leaving his lips that you almost hadn't heard as he passed his father.

You exited the room shortly after, not sparing Susan or Neil a goodbye as you gingerly took your shirt from Max's hands.

She made a comment, something quietly spoken that not even your heightened hearing could make out over Billy's obnoxious slamming of the front door that he knew he would pay for later. You watched the young girl as she returned to her room.

Silence welcomed you when you first stepped into the driveway, stretching across the cement with a sense of uncomfortablity that didn't seem to fade as you entered the car and were met with a chilling quiet.

Billy didnt look at you as his ignition roared to life, nor did he speak to you as he pulled out the drive way. He stared ahead, chin down as he leaned just slightly forward, supporting an arm on the side door, palm rubbing soothing circles into his temple.

He was going 20 above the speed limit. You assumed you two were trying to get as far away from the house as you could. But, the further into the neighborhood you went, the lower the numbers on the radio dropped and the more the car filled with quiet music.

Hargrove was completely out of it, lost in some other space where you weren't welcome. And the car had filled with a tension you doubted he'd meant to cause, but given his current mood, you didn't think he could avoid it either.

Despite this, you chose to press yourself against the door with a turned head, the muscles in your body growing taut with discomfort the more you tried to make it seem as if you weren't even of existence in the passenger seat.

You wanted out of the car.

That much you could draw from your mind when you found that the speedometer was at 55 and increasing.

"Billy. " You tore your gaze from the meter, flickering over the silent boy who was intent on looking only at the road ahead.

No answer. His jaw was tightened and set. There were lines buried in the skin.

"Billy. " Your voice held a certain firmness that he didn't quite like.

Silence still and he tightened his grip on the leather, knuckles turning white. The streetlights were getting ready to cast those obnoxious eyes and like a perfect chain of events the little hairs of a certain song burst from the speakers.

His hand, fast with anger, whipped across the volume dial, ceasing the tune and replacing it with the rumble of the engine.

An inhale, then a single word. "What. "

Somehow you think that's the opposite of an answer. It's barely a question. With the tone of voice he held he shouldn't have phrased it that way because he clearly didn't want to know what you had to say, what you thought.

"Stop the car. I'll walk. " It was simple enough and on any normal occasion Billy might've done just that rather than wasting his gas on you. But tonight was different, and Billy, seemingly fueled by his own agitation, just blew past the stop sign and sent the speed at which the Camaro rolled up with you at dangerous levels.

The car vibrated lightly beneath you, air whistling as you tore through the neighborhood at an alarming rate.

"Oh for fucks sake. " It was a mutter to yourself because you hadn't exactly expected the boy to be cooperative but you didn't think you'd be forced to jump out of a moving car again. Yet, here you were; gripping the handle, poised like a god damn animal, eyeing the road as you built up your goddamned gallantry.

You didn't catch the surprise on Billy's face when he noticed you push the door open against the harsh winds.

Fuck it.

You fell with ease and with a soft oof! your limbs were somehow able to stand the blow rather than becoming mangled chunks of meat against the pavement. You could hear the car skidding to a stop five houses down as you took a moment to roll around in your own pain.

Your shirt had rode up on your torso, back pressed against the heated road as your skin made contact with the tar. You had a few scrapes along your spine, one over the delicate hip bone. And you were pretty sure the road had peeled the skin on your forearm all the way down to the elbow but hey, at least it wasn't your fucking face.

A few drops of blood gathered on a pebble directly to your right. Your nose gave a sharp twinge of pain.

"Dick. " You said that in regards to him, for every aspect of his personality. Because Billy Hargrove was what others considered a giant dick.

If you hadn't suspected it before you were sure when you heard the wheels start to turn again, the shift of a gear springing the Camaro back to life. And then footsteps, louder than the car itself, were slapping against the asphalt.

"Are you out of your fucking mind!?" You raised your head, eyes coming to focus on Billy's very fucking pissed form towering above you. Arms crossed defensively, face twisted with irritation as he glared down at you with something close to— well it looked a lot like anger but Billy only knew one of three emotions and that was definitely not concern.

"Fuck you. " You managed through a puddle of blood in your mouth that you promptly spit out, only having realized it was there the moment it began forming bubbles when you tried to speak.

Billy's voice stuttered in reply. "What the fuck is your problem? Do you want to fucking kill yourself or something?! "

"Better than death by fucking vehicular manslaughter on the account of Billy fucking Hargrove. " You muttered, hands pressing into the road to give you leverage when you attempt to stand up. Your body immediately yells a no to this action and you lay right back down on the road.

"What?" Billy is completely distraught in the sense that his brain has seemed to burst due the sheer incomprability of your actions.

"Oh I don't know, Billy, maybe the next time I feel like killing myself I'll call you and we'll go a hundred miles an hour off the fucking side of a cliff. "

The boys eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline as he stared at you.

"Watch me die like an old school movie where they're surrounded by bubbles and colors and shit. "

You spit the last remnants of blood from your mouth and Hargroves face ran red and blue. "Can you fucking shut the fuck up and get up already before anyone sees you. " He demanded, practically dancing around your form. Arms stretched out with a stance that reminded you very much of a gymnast.

"No. No. I think I'll lay here for a sec. " You roll onto your backside, a groan in your voice, arms folding over your body, posed like a corpse.

Billy stops in his antics and stares at you incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Very serious, yes. " Your voice almost comes out like a sigh.

Billy reels, and if it wasn't for the fact your eyes were sealed shut now, you'd be able to see the absolute bewilderment of the teen as he stood there in the middle of the empty street. Arms half poised over you but not touching your form. As if he didn't know what do with you.

"...Get up. " He demands, standing straight again, his hands on his waist. This time he's not commanding you in that cold manner. There's a little rise to his voice like he's beginning to lose his patience, his forehead furrowing with anger.

You take another few moments to enjoy the silence. You swear you hear a cicada or something squeak from a window sill nearby and the air felt cooler than it has in weeks. Until it all becomes overbearing and your chest burns from a lack of oxygen. You didn't even realize you were holding your breath.

You open an eye to test the waters.

Billy's scowling now, a hand on his hip and the other resting across his forehead in disbelief. At you or the situation, you weren't entirely sure. Both you imagined. But there was a certain look on his face like he was ready to pull some kind of theatric, a reaction, throw a punch to knock some sense into you but ultimately decided against it.

"Where do you live?" He asked the question in such a manner that you couldn't help but be wary of his intentions.

"...Why?" You asked, the caution obvious in your voice. As he loomed over you like that... it wasn't doing a whole lot of trust building.

You almost hear the growl of frustration from his throat as he began rocking on the balls of his feet, hands swinging like he wasn't able to grab hold of something. "So we can fucking go. Before someone calls the fucking cops. "

You still hesitated.

"Before I fuck you up so hard they'll have to identify you by your fucking sperm. " Okay there were his threats. But they lacked the substance of his normal demeanor. He didn't seem overly angry like he typically did but still, his body gave some kind of look as though he couldn't quite will himself to control the way it trembled with adrenaline.

"Nice one, but you're not my type. " Another bite and a second of Billy looking absolutely befuddled as he tried to keep his voice down. His glare had weakened but only because he was taken off guard, and his cocky expression fell to a tight line.

You watched as he took a moment to look around the empty street. The lights weren't too bright so you couldn't make out that typical, telltale flush of his skin that you've grown accustomed to in his anger.

Your eyes flickered across his face, scanning every inch like a beacon. Curiously, you looked at him the same way he always did. Maybe you'd find some sort of answer hidden somewhere behind his icy blues.

The look on his face was strange. Pensive.

"Get up, Y/N. " An even voice this time. Calming maybe. And to think, all it took was a slightly gay comment in order to simmer the violent bastard.

You half wondered where the fag-bashing erratic moron went. Maybe he'd packed his bags and runaway. You could hope.

You did more than that infact, you put that right there on your bucket list, and with a frown, more for yourself than anything else, you looked away from the boy above you.

"Fine. Alright. " Your movements were stiff with pain as you moved to push yourself up by the palms of your hand, your arms trembling beneath the weight. The skin on your hand and forearm burned with a stinging sensation.

Billy watched at your pathetic attempts, a sneer or two on his face but he didn't seem to offer much help until it'd all get too pathetic and he had to reach out and aid you.

"Idiot. " His lip curled as his palm met yours, his fingers holding onto the back of your hand tight as possible.

You stumbled slightly upon becoming fully upright, teetering against Billy for a moment as you took a minute to regain your ground.

"Yeah, well whose fucking fault is that. " You've developed a lovely habit of hissing through your teeth with an unnecessary amount of spite. You're surprised Billy hasn't knocked you on your ass and left you for dead by now.

He scoffs, trying to put as much distance between the two of you while still having your arm linked through his, helping you along. To the ignorant eye, you suppose this would look platonic enough but anyone that knew the two of you well would certainly think otherwise.

Billy's all rigid limbs and stunted movements. Even when you'd finally started to walk on your own and your grip on his arm began to slack, he held firm with a grip like a vise.

And by the time you're at the passenger's side, he's shoving you into the seat and you nearly knock your head on the top of car.

You didn't bother giving a remark when he practically seethed through his teeth, slamming the door in your face. He strode around the car like a man on a mission.

"If you go more than 5 over the speed limit—" You felt the warning die on your tongue when you saw the look of pure anger etched onto Billy's face.

"You'll jump out. Yeah. " His hand came down on the shifter. "Got it. "

There was a part of your brain that you didn't recognize that was screaming in terror, completely and totally convinced you were going to die tonight at the hands of the ever brooding Billy Hargrove.

But much to your surprise, Billy maintains that 5 mile leway the entire drive home even when there's barely a car in the streets. He hadn't muttered a single word since throwing his angry body in the driver's seat.

Instead, he'd cranked up the music all the way as if it'd some how compensate for the lack of speed and conversation, not that there would be much to say anyway.

You hadn't bothered looking at him. He hadn't bothered looking at you. But somehow, in one way or another, the feeling as if you were watching each other was even more abundant in the silence.

Whatever hostility had remained from Billy's mood in the first half of the night had receded back into his depths for later. Though the occasional frown on his face never quite leaves no matter what, his eyes are softer now.

And by the time he's pulling into the dirt driveway of your home, the soft beams of amber and yellow from the streetlights dimly hitting half his face, there's no sign of anger or any real semblance of emotion. It's oddly quiet, and the only thing to really speak up was the steady rumble of the engine.

"Thanks. " You beckon quickly and with reluctantance as you awkwardly grabbed at the door handle, trying to turn as quickly as you could while still maintaining balance. Anything just to get out of his car and away from the guy.

"Y/N. " He voices and the moment you pull at the handle you come to find it's resistance. A dull tingle shoots up your spine and the hair on the back of your neck raises with tension.

You turn, facing the teen who kept an unconcerned façade. He was a calm still pond with blue eyes flickering like small waves in the face of a strong wind, and although most times they were ice and snow that held such a cold, unforgiving passion of arrogance, there were times they were the ripples of a breeze.

Now was one of those times.

"Don't go around pulling fucking stunts like that. "

That was definitely closer to a warning than anything else that had come from his lips the entirety of the night.

"This is coming from the guy who beat my ass into the concrete two months ago. " And at this point, you were too exhausted to be filled with spite for the boy.

His posture falters and not just figuratively. There's a shift to the way he's sitting but the flicker of his eyes remains. Even with you half turned, his stare remained. In fact, it seems to have gotten all the more intense.

"What's it to you anyway? " The way he tilted his head might have been endearing in another life. Now, it seemed to hold meaning, the way a predator stalks its prey with such observant behavior before sinking its teeth into its jugular.

His gaze on you could have bored into your brain, much like a drill for how quick your defenses seemed to start dissolving.

He'd always looked at you like this. Whether or not you caught his eyes on you was by chance.

In class, in the halls, it was all the same to him. He'd get one look and that was about all it took. He'd stare with the attention like an interrogation, as if trying to decode some secret behind your stature, trying to pick you apart bit by bit with those watchful baby blue's of his. And if there was no easy route to doing that he'd dig his little meat hooks into you until there was.

You were all he'd focus on. Not you in particular. More so the idea of you.

Whatever that meant.

Of course the only instance Billy looked at you without fail, hard looked at you like the blue was about to spill out of his eyes and swallow you up like a tsunami, was when he was a little tipsy or riled up with heat and fury. But like most of Billy's emotions, they were very intense. Too intense for something as simple as just a fucking stare. It almost gave you the illusion of a dangerous threat that made your skin buzz with goosebumps, your nerves rattling in their sockets.

He was doing the same now, except, the only difference was that he wasn't pissed faced or smoldering with alcohol this time. In the confines of his car, beneath the yellow white shine of the nearby street lights, he couldn't tear his gaze away even if you begged.

Billy was the sort of thing to stop you mid thought when you glance and feel your limbs freeze, suddenly petrified with all this uneasiness and sudden confusion as to why there was only one sort of definition to put on why you felt such things whenever his presence was met with a hundred paces of distance.

"I..." He starts but his voice falls flat. Something beyond frustration, something between anger and concern. The sort of look that told you he was working something out in his mind. Or he just couldn't find the proper word choice that didn't end in an f-bomb at the end of his sentence.

He's still staring, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, like a candle wick in the night. Wavering. Stuttering. Inconsistent uncertainty.

Like he's just asking for guidance to fill his barren vocabulary, the words never existing like an undiscovered civilization in his brain, unable to conjure up the sort of speech that would get him what he wanted.

An abrupt sense of panic washed over you. You inhaled sharply and you didn't let the breath go until your next move was placed in front of you like a chess piece on the board and you couldn't take the time to think out any future moves on your part.

All of your attention was pulled to him, focused entirely. The way he moved, the way he breathed, it left a tingling feeling trailing behind him like some faint breeze of emotion.

Everything stilled, it was him and you. Him. And you.

And he's just looking at you like that. Mouth halfway opened and the noise of shallow heavy breaths were the only sounds falling from his lips while he's looking at you all wide-eyed, like some fresh-faced virgin whose never seen one in person before.

You cursed yourself. Cursed the wind. Cursed the ground. Cursed Billy and his stupid face. And every corner of his stupid car and everything else about him. You can curse the sun but that'd probably be a step too far. Especially the moment you met those watchful pools of sea foam.

Fucking Billy Hargrove and his stupid, fucking car and his even more stupid...

Lips.

Lips and teeth.

Teeth, pale pink lips.

Blue eyes, long lashes.

Stupid fucking curly hair.

The sort of curly where it always managed to get you by the tips, tangling its brambles in your fingers and refusing to let go.

Which is why the second Billy made a small noise– not even really a noise, it's a breath. A single exhale that hits your nose, hits you the way nothing has before, and it causes a wave of heat to wash over you, overtaking your senses.

You grab those curls, your fingers entwine them and his breath is alot heavier, alot hotter as his hands grip tightly onto your shirt, like he's a frightened child.

His lips are wet.

He's messy.

Sloppy.

Like he's never kissed before in his life. Lips that keep moving, and his tongue is too sensitive, too eager.

Every sharp inhale of breath reeks of sweat and chlorine.

There's no time to stop and make sense of the situation.

He's scrambling over the middle console, desperate hands gripping on your collar and in any other scenario, this would've been the step before he plummeted his fist into your face. But there's hardly anything suggesting that. At least not without the time to see the tiny trail of tears lining Billy's eyes, glossing his cheeks.

He tastes as he looks. Like liquid gold with his tongue rubbing against yours in a hot mass of burning motion. And any semblance of a rational train of thought was chucked out the window.

There was enough room in the front seat for a teenage boy and then some. Billy Hargrove was not such a teenage boy. There was barely enough room to shift and breathe and wriggle around in this half straddle.

You can faintly hear a heavy car pass over a mound in the road, an off balance tire or perhaps someone forgot to inflate it and the uneven troll on the road, not entirely deafening, but it's there. And Billy hears it and he jumps from you, leg grazing the shifter, head knocking into the top of the roof.

His ears are steaming red as he all but falls into the driver's seat, face flustered and hair slightly disheveled.

He's looking around like a wild animal caught in a trap and he can't escape, eyes flickering back and forth; from the gearshift all the way to the rear view mirror and then to your face.

Pupils shot open, dark and wide, and a hand coming up to press on his forehead, eyes squinting.

"Billy‐ " It's a start, but it doesn't stay long enough to be deemed a full sentence, not with his name lingering on your lips while you try to swallow down the heat in the pit of your stomach. Billy's looking at you, breathing heavy.

"Get out. " He mutters forcefully, the lock clicks open and when his hand comes up to rub across his face, it's shaking.

"Billy. " More insistent this time.

He looks a few shades redder than when he was before, his head snaps back to meet your stare, hair curling beneath his ears in a gentle mess, curls threatening to fall into his face.

"Get out!" His voice pitches, breaks into something close to a sob and Billy swings his arm wildly, fist connecting with the steering wheel and there's a loud honk as a warning before he shouts again. "Get the fuck out, you fucking faggot!" His voice reverberates across the entire neighborhood, shattering your ear drums in the process.

There's dogs barking from far away, probably due to the horn.

You hesitated but only for a moment before swinging the door open, just barely missing the opportunity to knock the shit out of your leg by the time Billy decided to slam down his foot on the pedal. The door shuts fast. The car speeds off before it has the chance.

You watched him drive away, with just as much intensity as the boy inside the car watched you in the rearview.

As your house began to shrink away into the distance, and the glare of the car grew smaller and smaller. You could hardly see those searing blue eyes the way you did in class. Though this time, instead of a look of hatred or scorn, it was one of fear and dread.

And maybe, just maybe, if there were more light shining on his face, it would reflect a thousand scenarios playing on his cheeks. Not that you would've been able to tell from all the way out here.

"Fuck. "

[voidpacifist]

I have a new brainworm about steve harrington that I need (NEED!!) to share

imagine this for me: it's 1983. nothing eventful happens, at least in the supernatural sense. steve and nancy still date, he still drops his terrible friends when he realizes they're not gonna support him if it doesn't fit their agenda, he still accidentally becomes close to a bunch of seventh graders when nance asks him if he can babysit--

(not that he'd ever say no to her, but it's not what he envisioned the summer of '84 to be like, okay?)

--and overall, things are relatively normal for him. his parents continue to be absent, but they still get excited for him when they learn he has a girlfriend or won a new award at the end of the school year for something sporty or what have you. they're not bad people, they just don't know how to be good parents. and they're always, always away.

but the thing about 1983, is that his final interaction with tommy before he "broke up" their friendship by dating someone kind and sweet and "perfect" like nancy, was him getting absolutely wailed on. enough that he went to the hospital with a severe concussion and some damage to his optic nerve. the doctors told him he already has something going on with his vision to begin with, probably a genetic disease passed down from one of his folks, that increase his chances of going blind earlier in life. meaning, if push came to shove, his vision could go entirely if he got into any more scruples with ex-friends or people who just generally disliked him.

and then lucas sinclair asks him for dating advice, because he likes max mayfield, the new girl in his class, and ultimately it lands steve being the chauffeur for their first date just days after halloween in 1984. by now, he and nancy have broken up — they weren't emotionally available in the ways they needed to be with one another, and steve knows his dream of the future is different from her own. this time, there's no speech about bullshit or faking it. they simply both know that their expiration is upon them and call it quits.

(it still hurts, but he told lucas to shoot his shot, because if there's anything he's learned by dating nancy wheeler, it's that projecting his heartbreak and hurt onto others is a gateway to toxicity in the water; and by god he is not sabotaging this kids emotional maturity, okay? okay)

so he takes the kids to bennys burgers, because lucas insists it's "cool enough" for this girl, and he doesn't want to overdo it by going somewhere too fancy. but when steve returns to pick them up, there's a hiccup in the plan.

billy, maxs step-brother and steve's most recent bother at school, is there, gearing up to try and scare lucas off, or do something worse. steve, anointed babysitter and generally protective friend, steps in without hesitation. the fight that results makes the local news. steve lands in the hospital again.

his vision doesn't go completely, but it goes enough. enough that he can't drive, enough that he'll have to find large print books or simply relearn to read altogether in braille. enough that he's advised to get a cane or a guide dog. enough that, when all is said and done, his old life has been completely upended.

jonathan--

(the same jonathan who has now swept nancy off her feet the way steve used to)

--surprisingly, is the one who ends up getting close to steve after this. he tells steve about what it was like when will was found after being missing for a week, about how he knows it isn't the same, but that he relates to the feeling of oh god, everythings different and nothing I used to have is coming back. he doesn't divulge on the details, but steve knows he's serious about understanding the feeling.

even more surprising is nancy, who commands him every day that god dammit steve, your life is not coming back unless you take it back yourself and then reassures him in the same breath that he's not weak for needing help doing so.

and then the kids join in too. and steve harrington isnt a king anymore of anything, but he's the king of his own life, he's the king of himself. he starts going back to school even when he feels embarrassed to be there, like he's an imposter or ill equipped. he starts going to public places just to meet poorly concealed whispers with something friendly and witty in return. he starts taking his power back in a way that never needs to hurt anyone, that never needs to hurt himself.

he also discovers he loves bright colors — neons and pinks and reds especially. he takes a trip with nancy and barb one day to indy on some sort of girls trip (they've long since made up since the first house party, and barb latches onto steve as a best friend shockingly fast in the wake of his and tommy's split), and it's there that he meets someone punk for the first time. he develops a fixation on the colored hair, the leather and spikes and denim with safety pins in it. he badgers the girls about teaching him how to wear eyeliner.

it's his gateway into punk style, which is then a further path into the subculture itself, into colored laces and battle vests and the politics and social aspects. steve takes to it like a fish to water.

the name steve harrington used to mean something entirely different. even though he calls his parents every day since the incident, even though they've been back to see him multiple times, even though they've tried to be present in their strange, semi-absent way, they still haven't seen him since his transformation from local jock to local punk.

needless to say, he spends a lot more time educating them about his "waywardness" and a lot less time actually excitedly telling them about the next color of his hair. but the harringtons aren't unaware — they can see how while this may be a creative way for steve to begin expressing and discovering himself, it's also an armor. no one really wants to fuck with someone who will trip you with his cane if you're being an asshole, someone who wears a lot of spikes and other sharp objects on their body for fun.

so they let it be. and they stay a little longer, this time.

this shift doesn't go unnoticed by the local gossips, but it also doesn't go unnoticed by the "freaks and geeks" at school. he develops, quite by accident, a reputation that rivals that of the king of freaks at hawkins. eddie munson wears the title proudly, clings to it with every antic and every quip that feeds into the rumors about him. but he respects what it took for steve to get here.

so he invites him along to a hellfire session. which turns into two. which turns into steve becoming a party member, which turns into him excitedly telling the kids he babysits that he gets it now, that yes, they can absolutely host their games at his house as long as they have rides back home.

but as he and eddie get closer as friends, eddie notices that as well as steve has done accepting himself as he is, he still misses the things he used to do without thinking much about needing sight to do it. contact sports and movies and other very visually inclined things. and listen, eddie's happy that steve has renounced the toxic social scene of jockdom, he really is, but he also recognizes a guy who misses pieces of his old life.

(he finds himself missing his old life, the life before wayne, all the time, just for the parts that didn't hurt him)

so eddie, much to steves surprise, suggests he try joining the swim team for the final quarter of his senior year. and hey, fuck it, what can it hurt? he's already a nerd now as well as a punk as well as disabled — he can go for one more oddball, not-quite-jock occupation. the coach has several stipulations, all of which steve takes in stride.

he's granted a tryout. he doesn't make it on.

eddie, in his wildest nightmares, doesn't touch sports. he's already athletic in other regards, naturally good at sprinting and lifting heavy things from taking equipment to and from band practice. he doesn't think he actually needs sports, but he's willing to go with steve to lake jordan to keep practicing. he's seen how stubborn harrington is, and he's not about to stop it.

eventually, they do these laps across the lake and back (it's a pretty small lake) just to get high once they're done. and fuck, if steve can swim the length of the lake, he can get a job at the new starcourt mall. and he does. he's there at scoops ahoy the bare minimum of hours they're required to give him to technically say he's employed, but at least he has work. his friends visit him there after their own jobs are done for the day, and eddie consistently shows up just to bug him.

robin, his coworker, is impressed and startled by this version of steve. she'd say she doesn't trust it, but there's nothing to trust really, about the shock of bright green hair or the way his eyes aren't actually that focused looking, or about the way he casually tells stories about getting high and swimming the length of lake jordan. not to mention, the chemistry he can't physically or metaphorically see between him and eddie is laughable to her, and entirely too obvious.

she ends up with one bad trip from the wrong dealer, and steve stays with her through the comedown, and she realizes she would probably die for him, because he sits there and listens to her buzzed ramble about tammy thompson and his bagel crumbs and other dumb shit from when he was still in high school. he's the first person she's ever come out to, and she's the first person he's ever thought could be a soulmate, the kind he'd never give his body but would marry in a heartbeat if she asked him.

he tells her about billy. she tells him about her mother. they tell each other a lot of secrets, more than he's ever told jonathan and nancy, or barb, or even eddie.

and then their workplace gets set on fire from a gas leak after hours. they pack up and go to family video, because they're a package deal. it's barb being on the crew that convinces keith to let steve take the job, and he has a new shtick joking about being a blind guy who likes movies.

then eddie probably takes him to one or two or maybe five. then they maybe make out after one of their swims. then steve starts going to eddies shows at the hideout, starts going with him damn near everywhere, and this was the kind of companionship he needed from the get go but didn't have. the kind where they support each other's interests without changing themselves for it, the kind where there is love born from fierce and unwavering friendship, the kind where loyalty is unquestionable but agreeing all the time is optional. and god.

steve harrington has been blind for a year. and he wears metal in his face and color in his hair. and he and his friends gather for movies just for the enjoyment of it. and he swims the lakes of hawkins with his boyfriend. and he plays dungeons and dragons with the kids who haven't let go of him just yet. and his parents aren't who he needs them to be yet, but they're trying. everyones trying. and eveyrone is enough.

and he's enough, at the end of the day.

[reareaotaku]

Max Mayfield Headcanons

TW: Lesbians/Sapphic [Women loving Women]

She's really outgoing and approached you first

She was straight to the point with what she wanted [Or at least she tried]; To be your friend

The first time she saw you was at the arcade. She wanted to approach you then, to maybe start up a conversation, but you were surrounded by a group of people. You were about to beat the top score of a game that hadn't been passed before. People were cheering you on and that's how she found out your name was Y/n

After the people finally leave and you go to a table, drinking a coke, she approaches you. Her hands are close together and she has this weird feeling in her stomach. What if you don't like her? Oh god, she's starting to think this is a bad idea, but before she could back out, you look over to her having felt her presence

"Um... Hi?"

She awkwardly waves and slowly walks over to you. She gestures towards the game you were just at, "I saw your game"

You awkwardly chuckle, gesturing for her to sit next to you. "Yeah, I've been trying to beat that stupid game for months. Hi, I'm Y/n. Are you new to town? I've never seen you before."

She then tells you how she is new and gives you her name and you quickly become friends

You hit it off really well, because you both share many of the same interest

She was ecstatic when seeing you in her class

She's very protective of you

If anyone ever talks bad about you, she's quick to defend you

Definitely starts fights that you have to drag her away from

She prefers your house over hers, because of her brother [And mom]

She hates when Billy talks to you, because everything he says is rude and offensive. Billy does NOT like you. Mainly because he hates Max being happy

When the mall opens up, you both go together a lot [with Eleven third wheeling]

Cute little ice-cream dates and Movie dates

She loves looking at you and listening to you talk

You don't hate Mike, but you will listen to her complain about him

And BOY does she complain

You'd think he was the devil himself with the way she talks about him

Speaking of her talking about people, whenever she talks about you to other people, she doesn't shut up. She goes on and on and smiles while she talks about you

You're an important part of her life and the guidance counselor, Kelly, knows about you. You're the only thing keeping Max sane

You're the only person Max trusts after her brother's death. She can't lose you and that becomes her biggest fear

[trashmouth-richie]

prequel to Honey I’m Home

master list

summary: a peek into the lives of our love birds back in 1985

w/c: 4k

tw: no minors, underage drinking, drug use, party behavior. hinted at: rape

Engine roaring hot with the early dog days of summer, Eddie’s van skids to a stop sliding against black asphalt of Piney Wood Lane.

“Eddie! What the fuck?!” A church mouse voice that resembled nails on a chalkboard shrieks when the van halts to a stop. Peach colored lipstick is smeared in a wavy line across her pale skin, Chrissy glares icy blue daggers into the curly haired metal head.

Stoned and nearly asleep, Eddie forced his tired lips into a grin, pearly whites gleaming against the backdrop of the setting sun through the dirty windshield. “Oh babe you’re so pretty, here let me help.” Grabbing the tube of lipstick Eddie draws a matching line across her other cheek, “all better,” he yawns as she snatches the lipstick tube back and shoves the lid back on slamming it into her purse. Using a dirty t-shirt by her feet that she knew was used to wipe Eddie’s cum off her stomach some time last week after one of his shows, she rotates it to a cleanish spot and works the black cloth gently across her face, muttering to herself.

“Where are these little shits anyway?” She grumbles as she avoids Eddie’s lips on her neck, shoving him away with the heel of her hand.

“Fuck Chris, relax,” Eddie says, arms up in a surrender and lowering slightly to light a cigarette and blowing the smoke into the open warm air through his window, “little Tooty said they have to sneak out of the basement window.”

It had been a full year since Eyeball had left town and graduated without Eddie. His best friend was always smarter than he was, never having to repeat senior year, he left Eddie’s trailer park ass in the dust— never to be heard from again.

A scoff breaks from Chrissy’s pastel pink lips as she swipes more powder blue eyeshadow on her lids in the mirror. “I don’t know what my brother sees in her.”

The high encompassing Eddie falters for a split second. Chad Cunningham? What the fuck would Tooty want to do with him?

“Damn, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes and inhaling from his cigarette, “don’t hold back.”

Chrissy flips the visor up with a thud and crosses her arms, her lips twisted in a sneer, she opens her mouth to speak but Eddie shushes her when five moving figures run across the neatly mowed lawn of the Wheeler’s.

Opening the sliding door is a pimple-faced Mike Wheeler, accompanied by Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, and you.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Eddie says holding his hands up in protest, “watch the carpet yeah? Won’t be a shaggin’ wagon if the carpet is stomped all to hell you little gremlins.”

“Fuck dude,” Dustin speaks, sliding next to Mike on the floor, “you gonna give us upholstery lessons or are we going to this party?”

Mike and Lucas laugh as Eddie takes off before the door is even shut. Screaming into the night like a bat out of hell. Passing out cigarettes from a crumbled pack you kept in the breast pocket of the same ratty flannel you wore almost daily, everyone leans forward to catch the flame at the same time. Inhaling deep and choking back smoke against baby pink lungs.

Eddie wasn’t your favorite person but if he was one thing: it was reliable. He’d show up in his van, rolling up on the last remnants of weed whenever you called him. Day or night, rain or shine wherever you were— he’d drop whatever he was doing to pick you up.

Like the time Mike had left you at Benny’s after falling asleep in the red cracked booth following a late night movie premiere of Cujo. A quick dial to the Munson trailer, with a worried Benny behind you, after a couple of monotonous dial tones an out of breath Eddie answered grumpily reassuring you he’d be there soon.

Ten minutes later the blaring tunes of DIO were heard faintly as his van roared down the street, foregoing stop signs and swerving all over the place.

Benny raised an eyebrow and gave Eddie a pointed finger grunting: get her home safe.

Eddie greeted you with a stupid smile and deep dimples, threatening Mike’s life and his Hellfire spot for leaving you behind.

“Don’t make this a habit,” he scolded lightly, eyes red and higher than a kite, his boots were untied and his hair was sticking out in every direction, “Eyeball will skin me alive.”

You roll your eyes and put your feet on the dash, “Kev doesn’t even know I’m gone.”

Tapping the brakes Eddie laughs deep when you lunge forward, millimeters from almost smacking your head on your knees. “You know my rule, feet down little T.”

The night was young and you were filled with a naivety that coursed through your veins. With Eyeball at college your parents were rarely home, and you spent every waking minute you could with the boys, Max and El. A group of unruly teens, knobby knees and bad haircuts. The summer was barely at its peak, and you couldn’t wait to live it.

“Alright you little brats,” Eddie joked, pulling into Rick’s driveway, “no humping, no grinding, don’t take anything if you aren’t sure of what it is, and you all owe me $5 for the ride here and supplying you little degenerates with the best weed and warm beer in all of Hawkins.” He goads with a warm smile and jumps out of the van, leaving Chrissy to readjust her hair and makeup for the tenth time in the fifteen minute drive to get out to Lover’s Lake.

Filing out of the van one at a time, everyone slaps an Abe Lincoln into Eddie’s upturned palm. When it’s your turn he quickly closes his hand and you give him an annoyed look.

A look of concern colors his brow as he peers into your face, “Are you seriously dating Chrissy’s brother?”

Turning your lip up in defense, you scowl at the accusation, “so what if I was?” You gonna run and tell Kev about it?”

Eddie didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Eyeball’s fury, having seen for himself how Eyeball could fight the biggest of assholes at the Hideout, and he damn sure as hell didn’t want to see you on that end either. “Nah,” he chides, pocketing the bills into his chain wallet and standing with his hands on his hips, chest out, “what the hell do you think I am some shithead narc? I just didn’t think that you’re old enough to date.”

Snarling a grin and pushing his shoulder you answer sarcastically, “Are you my mother? Stop smoking Munson, you’re turning into a softie.” Traipsing past him you quickly run inside to find your friends, feet crunching on the gravel.

What the hell got into him?

—

The party is buzzing and so are you, two drinks in and a hit from Jonathan’s blunt and you’re dancing with Max, El and Will around the living room.

Tears flood Will’s eyes but he won’t say what’s wrong. Lately when he drank, he always seemed to get a little gloomy and dark. Whatever was bothering you he’d never tell, just going on about how it’s not fair. Only for the next day to claim he didn’t remember.

In a blurring spin from El’s outstretched hand, you can make out Steve Harrington. His tongue was wrapped around some blonde girl’s throat. Hands cupping her ass like she might float away. He wore his sunglasses in the house pretending like he really was fit to be “King”.

King Douche of Hairspray Island

Nancy and Jonathan are whispering close together slow dancing to a song no one can hear but them. Her stylish hair and clothes always fit her like she was straight from a Gap catalog.

Eyeing you, she waves and blows you a kiss. One you pocket and blow back. You’ve come to know Nancy quite well this last school year. Being one of your best friend's older sister’s she was cool and grown up.

Showing Max, El and yourself the proper way to wear makeup without looking like a cheap tramp.

“I don’t care if it is popular, blue is not a shade for anyone’s eyes.” Her makeup lessons earned an eye roll from Max, but you and El took special interest in it.

Collapsing onto the couch after Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ended; Will, Max and El all fall into a fit of giggles, you are breathless and your legs feel like freeze pops before they’re frozen. Being drunk and spinning around wasn’t the best of combinations but it was a blast.

A wayward glance towards the makeshift poker table in the small kitchen has Will wiping his eyes, rushing to the bathroom, excusing himself with a rushed “gotta pee.”

Finishing the last swallows of a lone beer sitting atop the barely standing coffee table, Max tosses the empty can behind her and leans forward, turning her head towards your direction, her eyes squinting into a serious glare, “you really gonna date that weasel dick Chad Cunningham?”

El’s face lights with devilish delight and you roll your eyes. Chad Cunningham was in your grade, and more popular than anyone you hung out with. Exceptionally good at sports and school, he was a dreamboat for any girl to set sail with. A future of wealth and riches lying at your feet. And he had been laying on his advances thick.

Plucking a cigarette from the crumbled pack in your shirt pocket, you offer the redhead a drag after taking a long inhale.

“Jesus,” you breathe through a cloud of smoke, “I swear I’m gonna kill Lucas.”

Max only laughs, poking your ribs with a slight jab of her unpainted fingernail, red from a picked stubborn hangnail, “Lucas couldn’t keep a secret if someone paid him too.”

Lucas and Chad played on the same baseball team, and it was he who said he would put in a good word to you for Chad. Apparently they were talking about more than just batting averages at practice.

Stealing the cigarette from your mouth, Max slots it between her own chapped lips, inhaling and blowing the smoke upwards as she falls back into the couch.

Lighting another cigarette, you listen to Max’s scoffing noises as Eddie runs through the living room, shirt off wearing cutoff denim shorts and boots, a screaming Chrissy over his shoulder as he trots towards the dock. Her high pitched whines are faint as there are two splashes into the lake, one after another.

“We’ve talked on the phone once, maybe twice,” you offer the small information as a gift, waiting for your two best friends to pull the pink satin bow and open it revealing the secret surprise. “Just lucky my mom didn’t get to the phone before I did.”

“No shit,” El hums around a can of Pabst, a wicked smile evident on her lips, “so what did he say?!”

The three of you dive into a giggly drunk conversation about boys, laughing at how awkward they were, how dumb they could be, ending the conversation still unsure whether or not you would give in to Chad’s charm. He was cute after all.

He wasn’t like you, while your family wasn’t poor, Chad’s family was extremely wealthy. They were all matching outfits for family pictures and lately your parents were gone more than they were home. Hushed whispers and teary eyes from your mother.

You didn’t know what was going on, maybe they would be getting a divorce? Maybe you’d be like Max and live in the trailer park after whichever parent decided to stay in Hawkins. Between the choice of living with your mom or dad, you’d rather sleep in a dog kennel.

Of all the girls in the school, Chad had chosen you. The sleepless nights on the phone were nothing but sweet talk. Telling you how pretty you were, calling you honey bun, how he couldn’t get you out of his head. Teasing him and telling him he was crazy, his flirting only deepened. Creating a pocket of desire and questions of what if? burrowed deep into your skin. Warming your heart with each peel of his words cozying inside of it.

He even left flowers on your window sill in the middle of the night so you could wake up to the smell of wildflowers drying in the growing sun of the dewy morning.

He was a charmer. And he’d charmed you right to a fit of heated cheeks and butterfly stomach aches.

When you saw Chrissy’s blonde hair in Eddie’s van you almost expected to see him in the back. Stomach sinking when he wasn’t stuffed into the grungy van.

Last night he made you promise to call when you were done hanging out with your friends. A promise you weren’t sure if you would keep or not.

El slinked from the couch and joined Mike and the rest of the boys playing their drunken hands at poker. Losing every cent of allowance and weeks worth of mowing yards in Hawkins to Steve and a piss drunk Tommy.

Max and Lucas were wrestling on the floor now, his deep skin turning a violent shade of purple only seen on plums from Max having him in a headlock, making him swear to stop calling her Pippy due to her choice of hairstyle.

The scent of murky lake water infused with green algae and harsh whiskey fogged your brain, tiny droplets of water slid down your cheeks, making you question how many beers you actually had. Putting your head on the cushion and looking back revealed Eddie, standing behind you in all his stupidity and brainless head banging to Heaven and Hell. One hand clutched around a bottle of Jack Daniels by the neck, his rings clacking loudly around the glass, the other pinched a fat joint. One wet boot on the back of the couch.

“Trailer Park run out of water again?” you spit, making a show of wiping your face with the back of your hand and sitting farther away from the metal head menace. Kev’s friend or not, Eddie was a special kind of jackass. Loud, ruthless, a real mother fucker, but come hell or high water, he was loyal to his friends. But shit, even an old porch dog is.

Eddie made a voice and chuckled deep, taking a large inhale from the joint, the paper crinkling against the orange burnt end. Blowing big O’s around your face, he merely grins, “you’re too kind to me little T,” he gathers his hair and wrings it out over your head, leaping over the back of the couch landing next to you with a sopping squelch sound of wet denim slapping against polyester, “better ease up on that sweetness or someone might think you’re not made of piss and vinegar.”

Kicking him away from you he only laughs harder ow stop you’re hurting me ow, he breaks out through choked laughs at your attempt to throw him off the couch.

When you have him pinned against the arm rest, your dirty white converse pressed into the slab of graffitied alabaster that makes up his back, he gently grabs your ankle and tosses your feet off of him in a swift throw.

Crossing your arms in a stubborn fashion you deliver one more kick into his side before retreating your legs in a pretzel beneath you, taking the joint from his outstretched hand as a peace offering. Hard to deliver kicks when your feet felt like they were stuck in brownie batter thick mud.

After a few hits, droopy eyes, and Eddie’s dripping curls down his back and onto the woven beige fabric of Rick’s couch, Eddie lets out a loud sigh, taking a pull from the whiskey bottle he still was nursing.

“Thought Eyeball was supposed to come home this summer?”

The question is more of a statement from Eddie as you lazily shrug your shoulders and find intense concentration on the frayed edges of your shorts. Fingers rolling the edges until the fabric is warm and sweaty.

“Dunno, precious Kev hasn’t said much since he went out East, nobody has.”

“Ohh c’mon,” Eddies velvet voice hums deep through his high, eyes barely open, “your rents aren’t that bad.”

Blowing hot breath through your lips you mimic a balloon, giggling at the way your lips feel with each wiggly vibration against your them. “Next. I’m not talking about my feelings with you when you’re higher than Willie fuckin’ Nelson.”

“Rocky Mountain High,” Eddie grins, tipping the neck or the Jack Daniel’s bottle to his lips.

Heckling him you correct, “That’s… John Denver …dumbass— ,” a yawn escapes your mouth, brain functioning on low as the high creeps into your brain, an unannounced nap knocking on your eyelids.

The couch dips with Eddie’s weight as he reaches for a blanket and tosses it to you, “Kid, I don’t know how you and Eyeball are related,” he presses, laughing at the way your eyes heavily blink back at him, “you can’t hang.”

The slowest fuck you rolls of your tongue, the living room fading in your vision you can almost taste the insult rolling around your mouth.

His idle smile falls into a frown, eyebrows pulled inward, eyes looking over your head you train your eyes to follow his gaze.

The noise of Chrissy’s bubbly giggle as she emerges from Rick’s bedroom, catches your attention. She’s wearing a pair of his boxers and a worn heather gray shirt, faded kelly green writing reading, Hawkins Athletic Dept 1980. Her eyes are twinkling with each murmur from Rick’s slack mouth, bent low to her ear, neither of them seeing Eddie sitting on the couch.

Stepping into the low hanging lights in the living room, Rick quickly gestures to Chrissy’s nose and she hastily wipes at it with the back of her hand.

You knew very little of Chrissy other than her family lived on the golf course in a lavish house with a perfectly manicured yard. One boy, one girl, perfect cookie cutter JC Penney catalog assholes.

Last year, you, Dustin and Mike threw three dozen perfectly shaped, white eggs at their front door on Halloween. While Will and Lucas rang the doorbell and Max lit the brown papered sack filled to the brim of Forest Hills Trailer Park’s finest dog shit.

There were wanted ads in the Hawkins Post for weeks about any known whereabouts of the “hoodlums” who defaced private property.

And Joyce Byers stood her ground on not knowing anything when Chief Hopper begrudgingly stomped his way from his police cruiser to the lonely woman’s door. Nevermind her receipt from Bradley’s Big Buys that was identical to what was used in the Halloween crimes of 1984.

It truly was a mystery.

Chrissy didn’t talk to you or any of your friends when you all hung out with Eddie and that was perfectly fine with you, she seemed on edge and would scowl anytime Eddie wasn’t paying her attention or waiting on her hand and foot. At the very least she looked to be in desperate need to fucking relax.

Her wide pupils scan the living room and stop on Eddie. The innocence of Bambi struck the blues in her eyes.

The couch shifts as Eddie stands on firm boots and makes his way to Rick and Chrissy. And before you can crane your neck to hear the conversation, Dustin throws himself down beside you, grabbing the blanket in a yank.

“Pretty sure I’ve figured out the physics of the beer bong,” he says as he flips your legs on his lap.

Before long your eyelids have taken the shape of sandbags and you’re fast asleep. Left on the couch after Dustin’s lengthy explanation of the correct number of breaths taken before the beer bong rendered you to a peaceful dream state.

When you wake by being lightly shaken by a sober-looking Eddie, his warm dark eyes swim with anger and look too wet, and his smile doesn’t match his eyes, “let’s go, kid,” he looks around wildly, on edge, “you’re drunker than a skunk— it’s time to go.”

You’re incoherent as you try to stand, a dizzy spell capturing you in a wave and you feel like you're underwater. Looking around you don’t recognize anyone but Eddie. Rick’s is packed with faces you don’t know.

Not wanting to be there for another second, Eddie grabs your wrist, squats low in front of you and throws your arms around his neck. He wraps the smooth crook of his elbows into the back of your knees, wearing you like a drunk backpack.

A piggy back ride that left your face in the curly, tangled tufts of his drying hair, the tang of weed and lake water stinging your nose as you bury your chin into his shoulder.

A cool blanket is on you when you open your eyes and become a little more alert. You’re in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, a cigarette hangs limply from his lips as he’s muttering something to himself. It’s dark, and no music is playing. An odd thing for him.

A quick glance around and you see that no one else is with you. A street lamp shines through the windows and you can see Eddie’s knuckles are painted with a deepened glossy red substance.

“Eddie?”

He doesn’t hear you immediately so you repeat his name. His head turns sharp towards you and the blazed look of rage emits from his face. If it were a look from anyone else you’d be terrified. He quickly softens his eyes.

“Everyone’s at Steve’s,” he says quickly, “the kids, Nancy, Jonathan.. we’re heading there—that cool?”

Confused but unable to concentrate a single thought on why the fuck Eddie would be taking you to Steve mop head Harrington’s house, you nod in agreeance. Fighting sleep but losing.

“.. okay okay okay! Explain to me again what the hell happened, I was helping Lucas get Max in my car when it went down.”

“Ouch! Jesus Chr—“

“Sorry!”

“.. they were eyeing her man, all of them! — it was— fuck!”

*glass breaks against a wall*

“Who Chrissy?”

“No, Tooty!”

“Oh my God.. Munson. Who were they?!”

“I don’t know man, I’ve— I’ve never seen them before… fuck this I’m going back there— gonna snap their fucking necks!”

“Stop, this needs to get cleaned or it’ll get infected!”

“Henderson, weren't you sitting by her? Where the hell were you?!.”

“I was Steve! fuck— I just had take a piss, I was gone for like 2 minutes and then I heard the yelling…”

“Christ! Did they touch her?!”

“No,” a tearful voice warbles, “Eddie knocked out that big fucker and the rest of them backed off.”

“I fucking swear to God— Harrington, I will slit their throats if I see them again!”

“I know dude I know, me too.”

“She’s asleep. Max and El are staying with her in the guest room upstairs, I think we should all get some sleep it’s fucking 3 in the morning.”

“Nope, all due respect Wheeler— I can’t.”

“Ed—”

“Fuck! I won’t go back there, alright? But I can’t just lay down and go to bed— not after this..”

The weary eyed stubborn watchdog waits til dawn, aching back from the wall he’s propped up against and bruised knuckles sting with tightness. Flipping the steel end of an old pocket knife open and closed.

Steve stayed up with him for a while, a bat with nails protruding from every which way in a death grip in his fist.

Eddie didn’t think he actually was all that bad, underneath all that hairspray he could tell he’s a genuine person— lost on the surface of money, name brand clothes and expensive cologne.

The two of them made a pact that night that the kids would be protected at all costs, two guardians in the halls for them in high school in the fall. The jock dickheads who crashed Rick’s party amongst them, but the threat behind Eddie’s fist evident in the broken jaw of the football captain behemoth. No longer able to to take the Tigers to a state championship or try to have his way with a younger drunk girl at a party.

Both Eddie and Steve decide that in the morning if you didn’t remember what happened— it would die there, a protective secret amongst new friends.

🧡

see you in volume xi

[dearestdaffodils]

Line Without A Hook

Inspired by Luke and Lorelai from Gilmore Girls

Steve opens a diner in Hawkins that you frequent. Grumpy meets sunshine and romance ensues

Steve Harrington was a quiet and brooding man. He owned (and lived above) the diner in the middle of town. The building had previously housed the Hawkins movie theater but had been sold when the Starcourt Mall opened. Steve was best known from the reputation he had garnered in high school. He was different now, brooding faces and flannels draped over his large frame were a stark change from the Steve you remember from high school.

You quickly became one of Steve’s regulars at the diner, joining the ranks of the Wheeler siblings, the Byers brothers, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, Jane Hopper, Robin Buckley, and occasionally Eddie Munson. The group was there daily, jostling each other for seats at the counter. They talked excitedly with each other, often eliciting a grunt or short sentence in response from Steve as he filled orders. You joined them at the counter on occasion, if someone was missing from the group that day. You enjoyed watching Steve in his element, wrapped in flannel with a rag over his left shoulder and a coffee pot in his right hand.

—————————————————

The bell above the door jingles, signaling your arrival to Steve as you enter the diner and make your way to your usual window table. It was the perfect table in your opinion, with a window to look out and a close proximity to the counter.

A cup of coffee slides into your view, drawing your attention up to Steve as he carefully wipes his hands with a rag before throwing it back over his shoulder.

“We’ve certainly got this down to an art now, huh, Harrington?” You smile, setting your purse on the seat next to you.

Steve offers a soft grunt, nodding his head.

“Feeling extra monosyllabic today, I see.” You rest your elbow on the table, plopping your chin into your palm. A glance at the counter reveals a shocking lack of the group that usually fills the stools. “Where’s everyone today?”

Steve shrugs, reaching up to slide his baseball hat off his head and run a hand through his messy hair. “No clue, they’re usually here beating down my door by six.”

You quickly pick up your purse and coffee, swiftly moving to the closest stool. “Looks like you get me all to yourself today then.”

“Oh joy.” Steve gives you a sarcastic smile, moving behind the counter.

“Don’t act like you don’t love talking to me everyday.” You smile, taking a sip of your coffee. “I know it's the highlight of your day.”

Steve leans back against the wall, folding his arms over his broad chest. “You have no proof.”

“Maybe not but in…” You trail off, checking your watch. “Five minutes, you’ll be asking me about how my day was yesterday.”

“Don’t push your luck, Y/N. I can kick you out at any time.” Steve deadpans.

———————————————————

“I know you’re closing soon…” You fling open the door to the diner, walking inside. “And there’s literally no one here… but I just need a single cup of coffee, preferably with alcohol in it.” You give Steve a pleading look, perching on a stool at the counter. “I’ll even pay extra if I have to.”

“Yeah right, you never have to pay for coffee, you know that.” Steve’s back is turned to you as he pours you a cup. “What’s the reasoning for a cup this late?”

You sigh, folding your arms over the counter. “A date from hell.”

Steve’s grip on the coffee cup tightens, his knuckles white as he hands it to you. “Elaborate?”

You blow a huff of air out through your lips, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth. “Men are just the worst. I mean, not you, obviously. But the men I date are the worst, at least. This one, not triple, but quadruple, booked himself for a date. So I’m sitting in the restaurant, having an okay time and then three other girls show up for the same date.”

Steve moves to wipe down the counter, glancing at you. “Wow.”

You nod, watching him. “That was my reaction too.” You sigh, setting the coffee cup down. “What about you? What’s the dating life of Steve Harrington like these days?”

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Non-existent.”

“Oh come on!” You frown in shock. “You had a new date every day in high school, I’m sure there’s still lots of girls beating down your door for a date.”

He shakes his head, pausing in his cleaning. “Not since we graduated. Went on a number of failed dates before giving up. Besides, I’ve got a business to run.”

You roll your eyes, looking at him. “Running a business should not stop you from dating. What are you looking for these days? I’m sure I could find someone to set you up with, I’m quite the matchmaker these days.”

“That won’t be necessary, I promise.” Steve grimaces, going back to cleaning.

—————————————————————-

“Alright, Harrington! I’ve got the perfect girl for you.” You shout, barging into the diner and marching up to the counter.

“Hello to you too, Y/N.” Dustin chuckles.

“Shush, Henderson.” You huff. “I’m on a mission.”

“I told you not to set me up.” Steve grunts, taking plates to a couple tables.

“I know but I never do what you tell me to do.” You follow after him, standing close. “I found the perfect girl, I swear. She works with me at the inn and I think you’ll really like her.”

“I doubt it.” Steve moves away from you, going back behind the counter. “I don’t really date anymore.”

“That’s cause he likes-!” Max starts to say, turning to look at you.

“Shut it, Mayfield.” Steve grunts, shoving another plate of pie in front of her.

“You like someone?!?” You gasp, leaning up against the counter to look at him. “Tell me!”

“No way.” Steve frowns. “You don’t know me like that yet.”

“Steve, I have been coming here everyday for the last five years, I think I’m qualified to know you like that.” You look at him, doing your best to give him a pleading look.

“Absolutely not.” Steve grunts.

————————————————————

You sigh, lifting the phone to your ear with a shaky hand.

“Hello?” Steve’s gruff voice travels through the speaker.

“Steve?” Your voice comes out small and shaky.

“Y/N?” You can almost hear Steve’s frown through the phone. “It’s late, why are you calling?”

“I… um… I was on my way home from a date and my car broke down so now I’m stuck.” You sigh, pulling your coat tighter around you as you shiver. “Can you come get me?”

“Yeah.” You can hear Steve getting up and moving around his apartment, opening and closing drawers. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” You whisper. “I didn’t really know who else to call.”

“Hey…” Steve’s voice is soothing, softer than you’ve ever heard it. “I’m glad you called me, I’ll always come get you when you need me.”

————————————————————-

“Oh thank god!” You practically sob when you see the lights from Steve’s car, hurrying over to his window.

Steve carefully climbs out of his car, looking at you. “You okay?”

“Just cold.” You nod, shivering.

He nods, gently placing his hand on your lower back. “Get in the car.” He softly instructs, guiding you to the passenger door. “I’ll call a tow truck for your car in the morning.”

“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper, carefully opening the door.

Steve nods, giving you a small smile. “Don’t have to thank me.” He gently taps the passenger door, turning to walk back around to the driver side.

You gently grab his wrist, pulling him back. “Steve.”

He pauses, looking at you. His hair falls in his face without his usual baseball hat, the strands curling at the ends. “Yeah?” He whispers.

“Thank you.” You smile, leaning up to press your lips to his.

Steve’s hands quickly come up, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you into him.

You pull back after a moment, holding onto the car door between you and Steve. “Any chance I could get a cup of coffee and a night at your place?”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. “You can get anything you want, if you keep kissing me like that.”

Tag list: 

@wayfaring----stranger​ @themarvelousbee​ @efvyqrs @10minutesofscreentime​ @allie-mcginn​ @short-potato​ @wh0re4harrington​ @jinxed-jk @byebyebikinisss​ @hellfirebabes @rainbows-dreams​ @vingtetunmars​ @buckysmainhxe​ @tenkomybeloved @whatisitliketobeinlove @mirkwoodshewolf​ @nope-thanks​ @harrys-tittie​ @fandomxreaders @rosie-posie08

[chloe-skywalker]

No Plans - Billy Hargrove (3/3)

Part #3 (3/3)

Billy x Fem!Reader Harrington

Steve x Fel!Sister!Reader

Warnings: Stranger Things, none

Word count: 1,787

Summary: Now that the Christmas Eve at the Mayfield/Hargrove home obligation was fulfilled, it’s time for Billy to experience Christmas at the Harringtons. 

Authors Note: Finale part 3! Here it is everyone! Enjoy! Merry Christmas & Happy Holiday’s!

Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Holiday Masterlist

Part 1 (2021)  ~ Part 2 (2022)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked Billy as he took a pillow and blanket off of her bed and set them up on the floor in a makeshift bed.

“Anyone could walk in-” Billy started to answer, gesturing to the door. Billy normally would sleep in the bed with Y/n. But with how many people were staying in the house he didn’t want to set a bad example for himself to her family. But Y/n stopped him.

“Stop, Billy. You are sleeping in my bed with me. That's finale. Just keep your clothes on and if someone comes in we’ll be good.” Y/n stated picking up the blanket and pillow off the floor shaking them out and placing them back on the bed, before she got undressed to put on her pj’s.

“Just don’t want to make a bad impression.” Billy told her, watching the door apprehensively.

“Billy, why do you care what my family thinks of you so much?” Y/n asked him sitting on her bed watching him change into his own pj’s. Great view Y/n thought in her head.

“I don’t plan on letting you go so it’d be nice if your family liked me.” Billy stated moving onto the bed sitting next to her. He never cared about what parent’s thought of him before now. There was more at stake with y/n in Billys mind.

Y/n hated how he felt the need to get her parents approval. She means sure if he were to act like the Billy around town then they’d probably hate him, but she hated how he felt he needed to be not himself to impress her family.

Y/n sighed reaching out to hold his hands in hers before explaining something she felt was very important for him to hear. “Oh Billy. You don’t have to do that. I don’t care if they like you, because I don't care what they think. I’m glad you're here because it’ll make this holiday bearable. My parents like you Billy and it drives my brother nut’s. Normally our parents are always gone so we celebrate by ourselves Steve and me. Sometimes we invite friends over to celebrate with us. Like the kids Max hangs out with, Nancy, Robin, Johnathan, I could go on. That’s honestly the way I prefer it. Just Steve, me and the people we consider family. Like you.”

The only person Y/n wished liked Billy was her brother, but she knew there were a lot of reasons on both sides why they didn’t get along.

“Why are they here hosting them?” He asked her with an inquisitive look. He was confused if they were never really around. Why were they hosting all their family this christmas?

“It’s their turn this year. Trust me they weren’t happy about it.” Y/n let out a sarcastic laugh remembering how upset her parents were to have to cancel their vacation plans. Y/n snuggled up into Billys side as they repositioned themselves to lay down under her covers getting ready to sleep. “I’m just glad you're here. I couldn’t imagine doing this without you.”

Billy pulled her as close as she could possibly be to him, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not leaving. Promise.”

^     ^     ^

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!” The kids came barging into her bedroom screaming her name. Effectively waking her and Billy out of their peaceful sleep.

“Hmmmm, what?” Y/n asked in a very tired, sleepy voice opening her eyes to look at them.

“Come on, get up! Santa came!” They grabbed her shoulder, shaking her whole body.

“Well, how about you go wake your parent’s up and we’ll meet you there.” Y/n suggested and the kids left to do as Y/n said.

“Are they always that loud?” Billy groaned, turning on his side facing her.

“No, they're just excited.” She shook her head smiling at him.

“Where are you going?” Billy pulled her back down to the bed before she could get up, wrapping her arms tightly around her pulling her back into his chest.

“If we don’t get up they’ll come back.” Y/n laughed, smiling at how sweet his actions were, loving how clingy he always was in the morning.

“They wake you to?” Steve asked from the doorway rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Yup.” Y/n smiled over at her brother, craning her neck to do so.

“Hey, can I have a moment with Hargrove here?” Steve asked once Y/n and Billy had gotten up and were heading out of Y/n’s room. “Uh, sure. I’ll go downstairs. Start helping with breakfast.” Y/n looked between her brother and boyfriend unsure if this was a good idea to leave them alone. But Billy gave her a nod singling it would be okay.

“What do you want, Harrington?” Billy asked once Y/n’s footsteps could be heard going down the stairs.

“Just wanted to say thanks. For taking care of my sister yesterday. Max says that Neil is an ass so. . .” Steve looked to Billy hoping he didn’t want to fight Steve was done fighting with him. And he never won anyways. But he really just wanted to talk.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” Billy clenched and unclenched his fist resisting the urge to punch him for even insinuating that he would let his father lay a hand on Y/n.

“I appreciate that. Look, can we just call a truce? At least for today if not for good. For Y/n.” Steve nodded with an appreciative look, he could see it in the dirty blonde. He truly cared about his sister and that took awhile to sink in. But it had now and Steve didn’t want to cause an eventual rift between him and his sister.

“For Y/n.” Billy agreed to Steve’s idea, it was time they got along for Y/n. BIlly didn’t plan on leaving her so he and Steve needed to bury the hatchet. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Did you just-’

“Not happening ever again so take it and move on.” Billy didn’t apologize often. So Steve needed to just leave it and move on. Take the apology and never mention it again.

The two nodded and headed down stairs to join everyone else.

“Hey, breakfast is ready.” Y/n greeted the boy’s as they entered the kitchen. Y/n had put some bacon on her’s and their plates along with cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon rolls were Steve and y/n’s tradition for breakfast on holiday’s.

“Thanks, sis.” Steve took his plate from her outstretched hand.

“Thanks.” Billy grabbed the other plate from her.

“Everything okay?” Y/n asked as surprisingly of what they could have talked about as they went to sit down.

“Everything's fine. More than.” Billy leaned over and kissed her on the lips before digging into his plate.

After breakfast everyone opened presents after opening present’s everyone slowly got dressed. Y/n and Billy headed up to her room to get dressed themselves.

“Hey, I still have that gift for you.” Billy spoke up once the door was shut to Y/n’s room.

“Billy-”

“You got me gifts. I’m allowed to give you them as well.” Billy really loved the gifts she had gotten and he was excited to see her open his gift.

“Oh, Billy. It’s beautiful.” Y/n was stunned at the gift. It was a matching necklace and ring. On the back of the necklace and inside the ring were her’s and Billy’s entails.

“I figured if you couldn’t wear one you could wear the other.” He explained to her, he knew she didn’t always wear necklaces but she always had a ring on or one or the other.

“I love them. Thank you.” Y/n smiled up at him before turning around to have him help her put on the necklace as she slid the ring on.

“I was hoping you would.” Billy grinned happily and relieved that she loved them.

“Can I ask you something?” Y/n turned to face him.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Why are you and my brother getting along? Hell your acting like friends. I’m not upset by it, I’m actually kind of happy about it, but it’s also kind of freaking me out. You hated each other just yesterday.” Y/n moved to sit back on her bed hoping to get an answer about earlier. It’s making Y/n feel a little crazy watching them get along. She loved it but it was odd.

“We called a truce.” Billy told her with a shrug.

“Why?” Y/n tilted her head confused.

“Why do you think?” He teased asking her with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Me?” She furrowed her brows and her eyes widened. Y/n was confused at their timing if that was the case. “Why now?”

“I think he might have realized I’m not going anywhere and I’m not using you.” Billy told her moving to stand between her legs. He hated that at first y/n and Steve thought he was trying to use her. Sure he flirted with her just to piss Steve off. But he never planned on using Y/n. This was the longest relationship Billy has ever had.

“Thank you.” Y/n smiled at him gratefully knowing it couldn’t have been easy to do that for her.

“Anything for you.” He whispered against her lips before pulling her into a kiss which in the process ended up with them falling back onto her bed, with Billy hovering over her.

“Let’s get dressed and head back down.” Y/n suggest once they broke apart as she ran her hand’s up and down his biceps.

After they got dressed and went back down stairs the day continued and they played games and just hung out with the family. Steve and Billy acted like friends the rest of the day, but if you asked Y/n she watched them actually get along and share things in common. Y/n didn’t think they were doing much acting at all.

The day went by fast and everyone sat down in the family room to eat dinner. After that Billy and Y/n headed up to her room for some quiet time.

“Did you have fun?” Y/n questioned hoping he did, it seemed like he  had.

“Yeah, I did.” Billy smiled a guinea smile at her he reached up to run a hand through her hair.

“It was a fun first Christmas together.’ Y/n hinted hoping he got that she wanted to spend more Christmas’ together.

“One one many to come.” BIlly smirked, enjoying the thought of her words.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 @starkleila @fandom-princess-forevermore @cherriebat @shadowmoonlight0604

[riveatstoes]

the idea of finn wolfhard’s roles being somehow related has been beaten to death already but i do enjoy the concept of richie tozier and mike wheeler being twins separated when they were young, and then being forced to endure their own interdimensional horrors with their groups of Loser Buddies.

i also like the idea of how they’d react to each other’s aforementioned interdimensional horrors. personally i think if richie had to deal with anything remotely upside-down related he’d Flip The Fuck Out and just scream a lot. if he came face to face with a demogorgon he’d try to hit it with a baseball bat or a stick or something, and then max or lucas (or maybe even el) would have to go out of their way to save him from his own dipshit decisions.

alternatively i believe that pennywise would be a cakewalk for mike and the party. mike would simply hit it with the “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls 🙄” and it’d be so confused it would have no choice but to back off. i also am a firm believer that if the losers club had max with them they would’ve fully defeated pennywise in the first movie. she would’ve figured out the “make it small” shit SO FAST.

at her core max mayfield is a Thirteen Year Old Girl and i applaud her for it. i love her.

anyway i’m working on my own twins!richie and mike fanfic so we’ll see how that goes. i don’t want to post it before i have something super solid because i have a tendency to abandon fics if they don’t interest me enough the entire time. we’ll see.

bonus—some stranger things/IT pairings that i want to see more of in crossover fics:

STANLEY AND WILL!!!!!!!!! trust me

bev and el

dustin and richie

if you’re gonna do the bev/max thing i also strongly suggest doing lucas/ben as well because what’s the point of writing the ginger girlbosses without their Stupid Goofy Men?

bill and mike w

idk i just feel like eddie k would just hate eddie munson. crossover where the losers club have to climb through that portal in the munsons’ trailer and eddie k refuses purely because of the state of eddie m’s mattress

i get the feeling that stanley would be the one constantly being stuck with steve and robin and forced into ridiculous tasks. imagine the stranger things 3 russian elevator scene but instead of dustin trying to set up robin and steve it’s just stan uris panic-reciting bird species

stan’s first thought would be “oh she has a bird name :) nice” and then the rest is “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck”

honestly any pairing other than reddie/byler because even though i love those boys to death it’s just so OBVIOUS atp

and also i can appreciate that they’d relate to each other but mike hanlon and lucas is far from the best mike h pairing. for example imagine him being stuck with (throws dart at board of ST character names) murray

erica sinclair and eddie kaspbrak world domination

adding onto the richie/mike twin thing the idea of nancy having to adjust to +1 brother is both funny and interesting to me. i think she’d lose it one way or another

jonathan byers and bill denbrough guilty older brothers bond

also imagine hopper reacting to a Second Mike being in his general vicinity. i think that would force him off the edge, ESPECIALLY after getting to know richie

[gay-little-bitch]

Personal Lies pt 1

Pt2 pt3 pt4 Pt5

Note: To any new readers, the first 4 chapters are pretty bad but I will re-write those at some point and I promise it gets better.

"Steve Harrington was one of the newest indie artists in 2023 who gained some popularity in the genre when he released his first album titled 'The King.' The album was a dedication to someone he had a crush on in high school. He was the school's resident freak who nobody wanted, while Steve was in the popular crowd and he was of course quite the sex symbol.

The first single he released was called 'Personal Lies' which he used to express how he felt when he first fell for this anonymous boy. The order he released the songs showcases how he felt over time and why he was crushing after 'the freak.' This leads to the question 'is this love still there?' Steve will neither confirm nor deny this but revealed he still wishes the boy remembered him.

Will he find this boy? Will crushes bloom?"

-------------------

Steve's Pov:

"Oh my god Robs." Steve scoffs "Are you seeing this shit?!" He turns his phone over to Robin to show her a TikTok page dedicated to finding his mystery boy. She can barely contain the giggle that slips past her lips. "Babes your face is like bright red, you look like a tomato. It's okay~ they're just trying to help." Steve gets up from his seat to aggressively bring his and his roommate's dishes to the sink.

"How did they find all of that out about me though?!" Steve reads the information on the TikTok. "For 20 years Steve lived in a small place in Indiana called Hawkins. Steve went to Hawkins Middle school and Hawkins high. He used to be best friends with a kid named Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who are dating. Steve's new friends consist of Nancy Wheeler (his ex-girlfriend), her brother Mike Wheeler, Will Byers (Mike's boyfriend), and his brother Jonathan Byers. Steve seems to be very close with Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Erica Sinclair, Argyle (last name unknown), Jane Hopper, and his roommate/best friend Robin Buckley."

"Like who told them?!" Steve takes a deep breath and looks at Robin. He seems calm but decides to start rambling. "I just don't understand why I can't just live my lonely single life without people butting in??? Eddie probably doesn't even remember me and even if he did he's probably not even gay or he just hates me. Did you know I was a dick to him in school? I didn't mean to be a dick I just really wanted some. Specifically hi-"

Robin slaps a hand over her best friend's mouth. "Steve...? Stop." He lets out a sad sounding sigh. "If you don't want to find him, we don't have to but I think it would be the perfect idea to make you feel something again. After me and Nance started dating you seemed so sad. You need someone to love Stevie."

"Yeah whatever" Robin mutters something about calling Gareth (Eddie's bestfriend since high school) and without anymore words they continue their movie.

----------------------

2 days later

The smell of eggs and bacon fills the room of a sleeping Steve. His headache has no signs of going away but he regretfully gets out of bed. The first thing he sees when he opens the door is Robin, who has 2 glasses of her hangover cure. "Here Steve!" He hesitates before taking it. Robin usually doesn't let him use her cure and tells him to 'make it himself.' "Is it drugged?" Steve smells the gross looking slurry. It doesn't smell half bad.

"No dumbass it's not drugged. Didn't you see the news?" Steve gives her a questioning look, waiting for her to respond. "You are on the billboard hot 100!"

Steve slams his glass down on the counter hoping it doesn't break. "Holy shit Robs are you fucking serious?!" "Dead."

Steve starts freaking out. "What if Eddie sees and knows it's about him?!" Robin giggles. "He doesn't really listen to your type of music I don't think. I don't think he knows. He's not even on social media as far as I know. You'll be okay Stevie. Why don't you want him to know that it's about him?"

He downs his drink and goes to put it in the sink. "What if he still thinks i'm an asshole and wants nothing to do with me? I don't wanna risk it ya' know?" Robin rolls her eyes at Steve's stupidity and grabs her phone.

Robin's Pov:

Last night Robin decided to text Gareth and see if he's still in contact with Eddie and if he'd heard Steve's new album. Good news, he was still best friends with Eddie. Bad news, Gareth hates Steve and refuses to listen. Robin refuses to give up and she invites him for an early lunch at the coffee shop a few blocks away, and with some negotiation he agrees.

--------------------------

Gareth walks into the shop wearing a ripped mesh shirt, an iron maden shirt, and dark blue baggy jeans. His hair is longer and the ends are colored red. He looks so much different from high school.

"Gareth!!" Robin swings out her arms for a hug. He cautiously accepts and they sit down at the table next to the window. "So why did you invite me here? I know it wasn't just to have a coffee." Robin feels her smile grow. "Did you know Steve has a crush on Eddie?" Gareth freezes and has a confused but amused look on his face.

"Eddie has a crush on Steve... He literally wrote his newest album about his crush in high school." Robin slaps the table and gets looks from the other customers. "Steve did the same thing!! We need to set them up!" Gareth looks intrigued so she keeps going.

"Steve's fans have been trying to figure out who the mystery boy is and I bet your guys' fans are probably doing the same thing. So what if we let them keep guessing for a little while longer and then we hook them up!" His face lights up and he grabs his phone. "I have to go but I just send you my Instagram and the band's Instagram. Let's hope this plan works."

They say their goodbyes and right when Robin gets in her car she checks his Instagram.

Corroded Coffin: 4.5 Million Followers

Eddie Munson: 3.7 Million Followers

"Holy Shit."

Notes: Hope you liked the first part! I'm really happy with the outcome of my post inspiring this&lt;;33333 I used @little-gae-shit idea for the album name "The King" and I used @maya-custodios-dionach idea for the Gareth and Robin thing. Idk how many parts this will be but I'm excited to continue to write. I suck at writing to lets hope this is okay :/

read on ao3

Tags:

@down-sizing-redux , @gay-stranger-things , @satan-is-obsessed , @this-is-moony-lovegood , @impeachy , @maraudersfavoritewhore , @robinbuckleymybeloved

[steveharrington]

all for show and no purpose

the adventures of max mayfield in college, lying for fun!!!! 1.3K words, maybe multichap? we'll see!

But even two truths and a lie is better than the much more average, tepid small talk that for some reason always includes the dreaded question about siblings. Max can’t fathom it. She���s actually never cared if someone has siblings. In her first two classes, she just says no. In her third class, for some reason, the urge to be honest overtakes her and she impulsively admits to a dead brother, then immediately regrets that when she gets the automatic chorus of sympathetic coos. She can’t exactly be like, oh, don’t worry, he was actually evil and I’ve come to accept that it was absolutely vital that he bite it.