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loveinhawkins · 11 months

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The Reid family live in the trailer opposite Eddie and Wayne’s. They’re a pleasant bunch, sure, but more importantly, they always give Eddie a freshly cooked burger on the Fourth of July, which he readily accepts—why would he waste his time on overpriced fair food when he could get it on his own doorstep for free?

Tonight’s burger is more than a little on the charred side.

It’s no big deal to Eddie (that’s how he prefers it, really), and he gets that you really have to keep an eye on some of those portable grills—otherwise you’ll end up with incinerated chunks of meat in the blink of an eye. But even so, it’s not like Matthew Reid to be so distracted.

“Wayne got the night off?” Matthew asks.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder towards his home, almost misses Eddie nodding. He puts another singed burger on a bun, then places it on Eddie’s plate.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “Uh, I’ve got some sparklers kicking around, y’know, if the kid wants to…”

He makes it sound more of a happenstance than it had been: yes, he’s had a decent run of orders from seniors and recent graduates, all wanting to let off some steam at the county fair; money is a damn sight better than it had been.

But the truth is that Eddie had been saving up anyway, would’ve bought the sparklers even if funds were tight.

It’s become a little tradition at this point: making his own annual ‘firework show’ with the Reid’s son.

Eddie’s known Daniel since the kid was six years old—he’s fourteen now, still has a bright-eyed naivety that Eddie hopes Hawkins High doesn’t completely stamp out.

He’s got a shock of blonde curls and a gap tooth, loves swimming so much there’s a running joke in the town that he’s part dolphin, what with the amount of time he spends at the community pool.

When his parents had heard that Eddie was repeating senior year yet again, instead of going for the usual commiserations or ‘helpful advice’ angle, they just quipped that it would be good for their son to see a familiar face at high school.

To be honest, Eddie can’t see Daniel needing a familiar face all that much; he imagines that after the typical first year nerves have come and gone, the kid will settle in quite comfortably, that he’ll be on the swim team by October.

At the mention of sparklers, Matthew’s face falls. He looks back to his trailer again and says, “Ah, m’sorry Eddie, couldn’t get him outta bed. Maybe later?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Eddie leaves him to it—if they were closer, perhaps he could’ve encouraged Daniel outside, made a difference somehow. But he just knows the family with a distant kind of friendliness—a shouted, “Morning!” when he’s running late, or a wave at the end of a long school day, their lives only overlapping briefly.

He goes inside to give Wayne his burger, so when it happens, he almost misses it.

He’s pouring himself a glass of water when he hears Louise Reid shouting indistinctly. She’s not usually one to argue, although Eddie’s noticed that she’s seemed tetchy lately—only yesterday, he’d been woken up by the sound of an almighty row that, as far as he could tell, was just about misplacing a bottle of bleach.

By the time he’s out on his porch, he’s just in time to see the back of Daniel as he heads out of the trailer park. It doesn’t exactly look like he’ll stop for anyone.

Louise is watching him go, her lips a thin line.

“Just let him cool off, darlin’,” Matthew says.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do with him. That’s—that’s not normal, I don’t know what the hell’s going on in his head—”

”He’s a kid, Lou, he’s just acting up, that’s all. He’ll grow out of it.”

Louise sighs exasperatedly. When she shuts the front door, she does it with such force that it just bounces back open again. Neither she nor her husband fix it.

Eddie reckons that he’ll time it: fifteen minutes, give or take, and Daniel will be back. Ten minutes more, and he’ll have made up with his mom, before sheepishly asking Eddie for a sparkler.

Eddie’s left counting for much longer than fifteen minutes.

Matthew walks down the road leading up to the park’s entrance, over and over again. Comes back and shouts into his trailer, maybe a little frantically, that he can’t find Daniel, that maybe he’s gone to one of his friend’s places.

Eddie hears Louise start up a round of phone calls. A knot forms in his stomach as each one ends the same way. Call me if you hear anything.

It gets darker. Wayne heads out to the woods with Matthew, flashlights in hand, and it reminds Eddie of when they’d done the same not all that long ago, when Will Byers went missing.

The knot in his stomach grows. Tightens.

Wayne returns with a shake of the head. Eddie makes coffee just for something to do.

“They reckon he hitched a ride somewhere.”

Eddie scoffs. “Where the hell’s he gonna go, Wayne? Chicago?”

They drink their coffee on the porch. The Reid’s door is still left open, so when the phone rings again, it sounds as loud as a gunshot.

Someone picks up.

A scream.

“Wayne,” Eddie whispers. He feels suddenly desperate.

Wayne’s face is white. “Stay here, Ed.”

And then he’s running over to the Reid’s.

Eddie shouldn’t get closer. Shouldn’t look. But he does.

He tiptoes across the grass, just close enough so he can see…

Louise is on the floor. She’s clinging onto the wall phone, the cord stretched to breaking point, and Wayne’s talking to her, too softly for Eddie to make out; he gets down on his knees and puts an arm around her.

Her scream turns into wailing, then guttural sobs.

Eddie staggers backwards.

A flashlight being dropped on concrete. Matthew running inside.

“Lou? Lou! Jesus, what’s—”

Eddie looks away.

He goes back home, tries to shut out the noise. No matter how loudly he plays music, he can still hear them.

Eventually Wayne returns; he doesn’t say anything, just switches Eddie’s music off and puts on the radio.

There’s names being read out. Daniel is one of them.

Eddie sits out on the roof that night. He lights a sparkler, thinks about writing Daniel’s name in the sky, and then is immediately furious at himself for the thought. The kid should be here to do it himself.

When he eventually falls asleep, it’s to the memory of a sparkler burning the back of his eyelids.

A few days pass in what feels like one slow blink.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself. He ends up just wandering down town—it’s ghostly quiet here, has been so ever since the mall opened.

It’s overcast, as if the tragedy has made summer die quicker. That doesn’t stop Eddie’s skin from itching.

There’s a small diner near where Radio Shack once existed; it’s a hole in the wall, still somehow in business.

Eddie doesn’t know why he goes in. He hasn’t even brought his wallet.

All he knows is that he’s suddenly inside, and the place is absolutely dead, and the only person sat at a booth is—

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes. “What happened to your face?”

Steve Harrington stares back at him, looks decidedly unimpressed. There’s a basket of fries in front of him, and he’s presumably going for the ‘stoic silence’ route, because he picks up a fry, goes to eat it, and immediately winces. No fucking wonder, too; it’s a miracle he can even try and eat anything through that busted lip.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, doubt something hot with salt was the best choice, Harrington, considering uh,” he waves a hand in front of his face, “everything.”

Steve frowns. “I just wanted them,” he says, on the edge of petulant, and Eddie wonders if he also ended up here by chance; if his skin is itching, too.

“Hang on,” Eddie says.

At least he has something to do now.

He asks for a cup of ice at the counter, wraps up some cubes inside a bunch of paper towels. He brings it back to Steve, who’s watching him in faint surprise.

“Uh. Thanks, Munson.”

Eddie shrugs.

Steve takes the bundle of towels, pressing them to his lips with a small hiss. He nods for Eddie to sit opposite him.

It’s a whole lot, up close: one of Steve’s eyes is heavily swollen, and along with the busted lip, his face is a mess of fresh bruises that must ache something fierce.

“You can ask,” Steve says, mumbled from talking behind the ice. He sounds resigned, like he’s one step away from adding everyone else does.

“All right.” Eddie crosses his arms. “What happened?”

“I worked at the mall. Broken down elevator.” Steve slams his hand down on the table. “It dropped.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie mutters.

But his mind is already elsewhere.

Steve’s unaffected eye narrows. Shit. He’s on to him.

“What’s eating you, Munson?”

“It’s just…” Eddie sighs, leans forward. “So a fire broke out. Like, after closing? But people were still inside.”

Steve doesn’t blink. “You ever worked in retail? People just hang around for no reason.”

“Sure, but—but—” Eddie feels a sudden urge to tug on his hair in frustration. “But he wouldn’t do that, he’d…”

Steve sets down the paper towels. “Who wouldn’t?” he says quietly.

Eddie tells him.

Steve listens in silence. He shifts in his seat when Eddie’s done and says, almost gently, “It sounds like he went to—”

“No, he hated the mall,” Eddie says vehemently. “Dragged his feet when his folks took him to the opening. He wouldn’t—he’d—I don’t know! All of it, it’s—”

“Crazy,” Steve finishes. He looks down. “Yeah. I know.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it, man. And, like, that family never fought, but the day before it—his mom was biting his head off over, like, losing some bleach or something stupid like—woah, Jesus, you okay?”

Because Steve suddenly looks like he might be sick. He swallows, breathes in and out cautiously.

“I’m fine.”

Eddie pauses. “Okay,” he says, uncertain. When Steve looks a little less pale, he goes on; he can’t stop himself. “I just—what if—did you, um. Did you see him?”

“No,” Steve says slowly. “But Eddie,” he says, and for some reason, he almost sounds like he’s pleading, “he was there.”

“How do you know? How does anyone—you know, like Will Byers, everyone thought… And then he…”

“It’s not always like that,” Steve says, sounds both sad and bitter. “Some people just stay dead.”

It’s a lousy rebuttal, in Eddie’s opinion, but for some reason it hits him anyway, leaves him abruptly exhausted. He runs a hand over his face.

“Yeah.” He steps out of the booth. “See you around, Harrington.”

“Wait.” Steve gets up too, with slow ginger movements. His fries remain untouched. “If I brought my car, I’d have given you a ride home, but…”

“Don’t think you’re in any condition to be driving,” Eddie says.

Steve gives a tiny shrug with one shoulder. “You wanna get the bus?”

“I didn’t bring any money.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get your ticket. I’m just gonna ride all the stops anyway.”

And it’s an unexpectedly comforting thought, that Steve is also at a loss for what to do.

They go to the back of the bus, sit in silence for the first couple of stops. Steve turns from where he’s been looking out the window and says, “Are you still, y’know, doing your thing?”

Eddie’s used to that being a euphemism for “Are you still selling?” But then he sees that Steve is miming a dice being thrown, and he’s momentarily surprised into a half-smile.

“Yeah. Will be, when school starts up again.”

He’d typically be using the summer as time to work on a new campaign, but that had gone out of his head with… everything.

They’re nearly at Forest Hills when Steve speaks again.

“I… I knew him. Not like you did, but I—I used to be a lifeguard, and his butterfly was phenomenal, I’d get the stopwatch out sometimes. There was a group of us, we worked on rotation, we’d call him part—”

“Dolphin,” Eddie says. “Yeah. That’s right.”

He feels his bottom lip threaten to go. Stupid. He rubs the feeling out with the tips of his fingers, digging in harshly.

It’ll be his stop soon. He stands up to make his way to the front, doesn’t expect Steve to rise with him, but he does. His breathing is suspiciously light; Eddie suspects he’s got some broken ribs to go with the pummelled face.

“Eddie,” he says, and even though he’s keeping his balance perfectly well, his hand brushes Eddie’s wrist anyway.

It’s not enough to chase away the itch in Eddie’s skin. But for a fleeting second, it helps. It helps.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “It sucks to lose someone.”

It’s a platitude, but there’s feeling behind it. Weight.

Eddie wants to say that he didn’t lose anyone, that the thought would be a disservice to Daniel’s parents, but…

It’s like Steve’s words give him permission to feel it. Just for now.

“Thanks,” he says tightly. On the last step before he exits, he turns and says, “Rest up, Harrington.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve says. “I’ll be here for hours.”

It’s said like it’s a joke, but Eddie thinks he means it.

Steve’s halfway back to his seat when the bus turns back onto the road, but he manages to wave just before he disappears from view.

Eddie starts the short walk home.

The Reid’s trailer is dark, a For Sale sign placed in front of it. Eddie hadn’t even known they were leaving, must have missed it in the haze of the last few days.

He gets it; if he were in their shoes, he doesn’t know if he could have stayed either. Everything would be a reminder of their son—the places he’d go, where he should be.

But he almost wishes that they were still here, so he could try and stumble his way through telling them Steve Harrington knew your son. He’ll remember him, too.

He doesn’t know if that would’ve been a comfort or not. He doesn’t know.

People come and go. Steve won’t be on that bus forever—he’ll go home eventually. July will become August will become…

Eddie lets himself in and collapses onto his bed. There’s still a prickle of wrongness in his skin, but he can’t untangle it. There’s nothing to make sense of.

He finds one of his journals. There’s some notes he made for a future campaign only last month. Feels like a lifetime ago.

He ignores the remaining unlit sparklers left in a corner of his room. Starts to write.

He can control this world, at least.

#eddie being just on the periphery of s3 events #eddie munson fic #eddie and wayne munson #pre s4 meetings how I love you #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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feralsteddie · 1 year

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Project Croissant clashed with punk!Steve clashed with a line from Saint Bernard by Lincoln and now I have a whole au in my head.

#instead i have a fucking staff meeting in two hours and a commission i have to do after that because i procrastinate #it's a Steve Robin and Eddie runaway fic #but in the weirdest way possible #it's pre s4 #and they all just happen to be absolutely finished with life at the same time #so far the au includes breaking into pharmacies for multiple reasons. being assumed dead. writing songs to cope with trauma.#they start a band and sleep in Eddie's van and have the queerest adventure #before rolling back up in time for s4

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roosterbox · 5 months

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Had this random thinky thought the other day.

Pre-S4 Steddie are dating. Have been for a decent amount of time. They haven’t told everyone, but a few people know (Robin, Dustin). The thing, though, is that Wayne doesn’t know. Oh, he knows that Eddie has a boyfriend. He’s seen Eddie’s eyes light up like stars when he starts talking about this boy. About how beautiful he is. About how strong he is. And, most often, about how kind he is. After the buildup he’s been given, Wayne is pretty positive there’s no way for this mystery boy to live up to Eddie’s description. Especially with how loveblind his nephew is. But if the way Eddie lights up at the mere thought of him is any indication, he must be something special.

“Invite him over for dinner sometime, son. I’m dyin’ to meet this guy.”

Eddie agrees. And plans are made. But for whatever reason, said plans fall through. And keep falling through.

But then.

The events of S4 happen.

Steve manages to save Eddie, like he should have done in canon (but I digress). They end up in the hospital, and someone gets in touch with Wayne, who shows up almost immediately. And who does he see at his unconscious (severely injured) nephew’s bedside but Steve fucking Harrington.

Now I’m not saying that Wayne assumes the absolute worst upon seeing ‘King Steve’ Harrington in that room (the worst being that Steve has something to do with Eddie’s condition), but he does make his assumptions based on what he knows and remembers about Steve’s parents (especially his dad). Said assumptions are… not great.

He basically kicks Steve out. And Steve just… goes. Robin tries to protest on his behalf, but Steve tells her it’s okay. “Eddie needs him now,” he says.

Eddie doesn’t wake up for several days. Any time Wayne isn’t with him, Steve sneaks in. And gets kicked out again when Wayne comes back. Wayne, for his part, is getting more and more exasperated with his dedication.

But then Eddie wakes up, finally. Wayne and Dustin are there when he does. The latter leaves to give Eddie and Wayne their privacy for a tearful reunion, but he also calls Steve. A little while later, Steve shows up. He and Wayne lock eyes, and Wayne bristles a bit. He’s straightening up, preparing to kick him out yet again, before Eddie turns. And his entire face lights up in a brilliant smile. His eyes sparkle like twin stars.

“Stevie!” He says, imbuing the name with more emotion than Wayne ever expected.

Steve almost trips over his own feet to get to Eddie’s bedside, where he takes Eddie’s hand in his, twining their fingers together. He looks like he might cry.

And Wayne suddenly understands everything.

He lets them talk for a moment. They’ve seemingly forgotten he’s even there. There are soft loving affirmations, sweet names, and maybe even a kiss or two, before he clears his throat. The boys spring apart (Steve springs, at least), but don’t let go of each other’s hands.

“I really wish we could have gotten to meet each other over dinner instead, boys,” he says, gruff as always.

Steve looks nervous, but Eddie’s just embarrassed.

“Uhm,” Steve starts.

Wayne gently cuts him off. “I think you and I might have gotten off on the wrong foot.” And that wrong foot is entirely on me, he thinks.

Eddie looks between the two of them, confused.

“That’s okay,” Steve is quick to say. “You were just-“

Wayne cuts him off again, moving to the other side of the bed, hand outstretched.

“Wayne Munson.”

Steve hesitates, exchanging a glance with Eddie (who’s still terribly confused), before taking Wayne’s hand with his free one, shaking it.

“Steve Harrington,” he says as if Wayne didn’t recognize him on sight a few days prior.

“It’s nice to meet you Steve.” Wayne smiles. “Nice to finally see for myself the kid who makes Eddie smile like that.”

There are further discussions to be had. Eddie is angry (and a little heartbroken) to discover what’s been going on while he slept (“YOU KICKED HIM OUT HOW MANY TIMES???”), but in the end, it all works out. Eddie’s name is cleared. He (and everyone else!) makes a full and complete recovery (plus a few gnarly scars). And Wayne finally, finally, gets to sit down to dinner with his nephew, and his nephew’s boyfriend.

#stranger things #steddie #wayne munson #wayne munson my beloved #Wayne is a saint #but he’s also a bit protective #Steve doesn’t hold it against him #he knows better than anyone the person he used to be #also pre s4 Steddie my beloved

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theysherobinbuckley · 11 months

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a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #max mayfield #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #ej writes #ej posts #ok to rb

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rogueddie · 3 months

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pre-season 1 Steve and Eddie who bump into each other at a party, just drunk enough that when they stumble into a bedroom in the middle of their clumsy fight... well, it only makes sense to have hate sex and get it out their systems.

and maybe Steve, when he bumps into Eddie at school a couple days later, drags him to the bathroom to makeout- but it's totally bc they hate each other. it's just better to make out and fool around than it is to start throwing hands.

sure, they're meeting up every other day and sometimes they don't do anything, they just have dinner or watch a movie, but that's only bc they want to establish a friendship. it doesn't get rid of the thick tension between them anyway so surely it doesn't count.

it's not until s4, when they're both getting jealous of Dustin that they have the slow realization that they're jealous of Dustin bc they want to be the one that spends all that time with the other.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #longficidea

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pillowspace · 2 months

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(Note: this may also include alternate universes or canon divergences based around that time period)

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jmart #teaholding #poll #polls #the magnus protocol #magpod #magnuspod #magnus pod #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jon sims

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dyhayc · 2 years

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A Polaroid Is Worth A Thousand Words

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (Fluff, Humour, Smut)

Summary: It’s summer break! You, your boyfriend, and your friends go on a road trip to meet with the Byers in California. Chaos ensues

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Self-esteem issues/previous negative body image, MDNI 18+, explicit consent, protected sex, innocence kink, corruption kink, praise kink, a little dumbification, a little hand kink, a little oral fixation, a hint of temperature play, a hint of a choking kink, fingering, piv penetration, semi-public sex, virgin!reader, blatant misuse of a popsicle

A/N: I was inspired to write this because I had to pack for my vacation to a beach area. I know this is pretty divergent from my regular stuff. I try to write fluff only (and honestly this is my first time writing anything nsfw) but I’ve been thinking about this specific scenario a lot and I had a long plane ride so… yea. The intrusive horny thoughts won today

Also most of this was written pre-part 2 so I’m just gonna ignore cannon lmao. I actually haven’t watched it yet (I made the mistake of opening Tumblr because I forgot it was July 1st and instantly saw a spoiler, so I’m aware of… things). This can be considered an AU because I know that it doesn’t match up with s4 pt2 at all

The last sentence is a gift for all the people who miss Eddie

Light wash or dark wash? A dilemma that has taken twenty precious minutes from your life. Space in your luggage is limited, and you’re too indecisive to make a choice. Which pair of jeans to bring isn’t the first tough fashion decision you’ve had to make tonight. Over half of your closet is scattered around you. Clothes on hangers struggle to grip onto every ledge available in your room.

Typically, you’d pick the most comfortable clothes from your closet and call it a day, but you and Eddie made a deal. He’d told you that if ‘86 was his year, it would be yours too. At first, you pretended not to know what he was talking about, but he’d just raised his eyebrow, and you knew he knew.

High school had caused a lot of insecurities about your body, mainly because of your “friends” who were catty at best and downright rude at worst. Every day, they’d rate each other’s outfits. However, when it came to you, they always commented about your body rather than your clothes. There had never been a day where you’d felt comfortable in your skin. Getting together with Eddie was one of the best things to happen to you. He helped you to gain your confidence back after years of suppression. He’d always gone out of his way to help you; it was how you’d met.

It was dark that night. The grey storm clouds looming over Hawkins threatened to release a torrent of rain at a moment's notice. They’d been around for days, intimidating but never actually storming. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side. The rain was predicted to pour the night of your graduation.

Even though graduating is a momentous occasion, the ceremony was boring beyond belief. The school had been too cheap to rent a venue, so the entire class of ‘85 and the accompanying families were squeezed into the gym. The speeches were shallow, it smelled like homecoming, Tammy Thompson performed a horrendous rendition of your class song, and to top it all off: you didn’t even get your diploma, just the holder. Everyone had to return with an ID the next day to get the real thing.

Afterward, you were dying to get home, but your friends wanted to attend some grad party. And by “grad party,” they meant going to an abandoned barn and getting shitfaced with half the class. Parties had never been your thing, much less one where everyone would be so fucked up. Maybe you were naive and wanted to believe your friends cared about you, but you didn’t expect them to be so upset that you didn’t want to go.

Thinking you would be hanging out with your friends, your family had left. To make matters worse, it was sprinkling meaning the storm had finally started. If you walked home, the rain would only fall harder, meaning you would get soaked. You asked your friends to drop you off at home, but they said, “The only place we’re going is the party. You’re either coming with, or you’re walking.”

You walked.

Down the jagged streets, you trekked for a few blocks. It was miserable. Your heels hurt your feet, but there was no way you’d walk through the muck and debris barefooted. Your robes were massive, inconvenient, and so thin the wind blew right through you. You were right about the rain. Effectively soaked, you were sure you’d be sick the next day. The disappointment got to you. What was supposed to be a happy day felt impossibly terrible. Sniffling, you weren’t sure if the water on your face was tears or raindrops.

A pair of headlights blinded you, so you raised your arm over your eyes to block the brightness. Brakes screech as the vehicle comes to a stop. Lowering your arm, you see the driver’s side window roll down. Inside is someone you never expected: Eddie Munson.

He seems as confused as you but leans out the window to shout over the wind, “Need a ride?” Considering your options, walk home and potentially get frostbite or ride in a van safe from the rain, you chose the van. Thinking back, it was stupid to trust a man in a van offering to drive you home in the middle of the night, but in the moment, the thought that he may be dangerous hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Running across the street, you open the door and put your soaked cap and holder into the van. Thank goodness they hadn’t given you your actual diploma; it would’ve been ruined in the storm. You unzip the gown, shimmy out of the thin, itchy fabric, and then sit in his passenger seat and shut the door. Embarrassed about the massive wet spot you’re going to leave, you mutter shyly, “Sorry about your seats, Eddie.”

You realize too late you’ve used his name, despite never talking to him before, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he was distracted by the beautiful and, quite frankly, fancy dress you wore underneath your gown. So distracted, he took a second too long to respond, “It’s fine. This van has seen worse.” Unsure of what he means, you don’t reply and buckle your seat belt. He continues, “So, where are you headed? The party is the other way, y’know.”

You wrinkle your nose as tears gather in your eyes again. Vigorously shaking your head, you declare, “I wanna go home.” His eyes soften when you tack on a weak “please,” to your request.

He nods, “Of course. Where do you live?” You notice how his tone becomes gentler, his energy lowering to match your mood. He accommodates you effortlessly, but the thought only hurts your heart, knowing your friends would never do that for you. Hearing your address, he pulls a u-turn and drives toward your house.

You’re both silent, but he keeps glancing at you. Finally, he voices the words he’d been holding back, “Are you okay?” There’s hesitance in his voice as if he doesn’t know whether or not the question will break the relatively calm air of the ride. You genuinely consider ignoring him for a moment before deciding that would be incredibly rude.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you attempt to summarize your night, “I just- Well, after graduating, my friends wanted to go to the party, but I didn’t. I don’t know why they got mad. I guess they didn’t want to drive over to my house cause it’s out of the way. I live far from school, so I kinda get it, I guess.” You couldn’t help but make excuses for them. You didn’t know any better.

Though you couldn’t, Eddie recognized how toxic your friends were and pointed it out, “Sounds like you have shitty friends. A real friend would’ve driven you anywhere you wanted.” You stare at your feet. Deep down, you’ve always known your friends weren’t good for you, but they were comfortable, familiar. He just voices the thoughts you’ve been too scared to acknowledge yourself.

Internally, you rewatch every moment they’d treated you poorly, every time they’d disregarded your feelings, every time they’d been… shitty. “You’re right,” you say softly before laughing in disbelief and repeating louder, “you’re right. They are shitty friends. I can’t believe I didn’t know.” Turning to look at him, you smile, “Thank you.”

He seems baffled at your sudden realization, unsure if you’re being serious, but he still smiles back. “Y’know,” he offers, “Since you’re now friendless, you’re gonna need new friends.” Your eyes widen in alarm. How could you forget? Seeing your panic, he quickly adds, “Maybe I could be your friend?”

Insecurities bubble in your chest, and you question, “But what if you don’t like me? Like, when you get to know me?” Right as you voice your concerns, he pulls up to your house. Parking in front of your home, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns in his seat.

“Why don’t we get to know each other right now? I have nowhere else to be.” Almost six months later, you’d found out that he had somewhere else to be: the party. He was planning on making bank from the drunk graduates who wanted to party hard. The funds he could’ve gotten probably would’ve paid for two or three months’ rent.

You agreed to chat, excited he wanted to talk to you. Both of you had stayed up for hours talking about anything and everything. You’d only left because you got so tired your eyelids wouldn’t stay open. For the next few months, you saw Eddie around a lot. You also met your new best friends, Steve and Robin, during that time. Working at Scoops-Ahoy was a fun, positive experience. It was even more exciting when Eddie would visit you, though Steve and Robin teased you endlessly for it. At least, it was fun until the “mall fire,” when you experienced the horrors of the Upside Down for the first time.

When news spread about the disaster, Eddie spent hours searching for you. When you’d finally been reunited, he’d confessed that the experience made him realize he couldn’t deal with the idea of losing you. At first, you were confused and thought he was trying to break off your friendship, but he realized you didn’t understand and told you point-blank he wanted to be your boyfriend. You were ecstatic and rushed to let your friends know about your new relationship. They had been excited for you, though Robin and Steve told Eddie privately that if he hurt you, he’d be in deep shit.

Your first date had been perfect. He took you to a park for a picnic. His cooking skills were… subpar, but it’s the thought that counts, and he had obviously tried very hard to please you. And, if that wasn’t enough, he gave you a polaroid camera. He said it was because he wanted to capture every beautiful moment with you. Your teasing about his cheesiness was to cover the way your heart swooned at how sweet he was.

Smiling at the memory, you search through your things to get the camera. Finding it in your dresser drawer, you grab a bunch of extra film and some colourful markers to shove in your backpack. Even though you’ve successfully packed a few items, there’s still the wardrobe dilemma left. With a groan, you return to your jeans and begin the internal debate again.

It takes a few hours of sorting and a break to eat dinner, but you’ve finally chosen all the clothes you want to bring. Now, all that’s left is your swimsuits. You grab a one-piece to be conservative, though it’s not your style. Going back in, you pull out a few mismatched high-waisted bottoms and bikini tops. Putting those away, you move to shut your drawer but hesitate.

Last summer, you were heading to work when you saw the cutest bikini set in the window of a store. It had a strawberry print and frilly detailing with ties on the top and bottom to adjust the size. That swimsuit haunted your thoughts your entire shift, so when you headed home for the day, you bought it. You were at the peak of your negative self-image then, so you never wore the bikini out. It was pretty, but it drew attention to insecurities you hadn’t felt comfortable showing in public.

You’re still not sure if you have the confidence to wear it, but your promise to Eddie makes you bring it anyway. If this is supposed to be your year, you want to wear your favourite bikini. And, if you have doubts, you can probably ask Robin what she thinks? She wouldn’t lie to you.

Content with everything in your luggage, you head to bed and mentally prepare to be stuck in a car with Dustin for hours. You love him like a little brother, but he does not do well when he can’t move around.

You slept in a little that morning, getting up at ten. Sitting in a car is oddly tiring, so you’ll definitely need that extra rest. Gathering up your luggage, you move it to your door. Everyone agreed to meet at your house, so you can chill in the kitchen until noon. You know they’re not going to arrive when they said they would.

Though you love him, Eddie is a hot mess who arrives at least fifteen minutes late to every event. He calls it “fashionably late,” and you agree, but for different reasons: he can’t decide what accessories to wear, so he’s never on time. Steve always wakes up late but still insists on doing his perfect hairstyle. Robin is just a disaster who can’t stick to a schedule to save her life. You adore your friends, but you also tell them to come an hour before you expect them to arrive. That way, they’re on time even if they’re running behind (and all of them always are). It doesn’t help that they’re picking up people today, which adds even more time to their arrivals.

It’s 12:26 when you hear Eddie’s favourite band faintly through your walls. Walking to the door to greet him, you lean against the pillar on your porch to watch his van pull up. You can hear Eddie bickering with Lucas and Max from your spot fifteen feet away. The second the van stops, Mike jumps out and walks towards you. “Hey,” you greet, “Fighting already?”

He rolls his eyes and replies ‘yea’ in an annoyed tone but doesn’t elaborate on the issue further. He makes a beeline for your kitchen, leaving you outside alone. Eddie is the next to go, and you watch him slam the car door aggressively before lighting up when he notices you on the porch. He throws his arms up into the air and exclaims, “My angel!” as he comes closer. He moves his outstretched hands to cup your face and whispers, “How did I get so lucky?”

You giggle, flustered, and mumble, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

He shakes his head and responds, “Wrong!” Before you can refute him, he leans in to kiss you. You reciprocate the kiss and wrap your arms around his waist to draw him closer. Both of you are too preoccupied to notice the other two kids, Lucas and Max, getting out of the van too.

Max passes you both without a word, but Lucas wrinkles his nose and makes it a point to comment, “Gross. Get a room,” as he goes into your home.

Eddie pulls away and yells after Lucas, “Be careful what you wish for. She lives here y’know!” Lucas groans, and you can hear him complaining to Mike and Max in your kitchen. You’ve never had sex before, mainly because you wanted to feel more confident in your body before doing something so intimate, but regardless, the threat is meaningless. Though, Lucas doesn’t know that. You laugh at your boyfriend, and he looks at you with his pretty doe eyes, currently filled with mischief, “What?”

Amused, you just shake your head and slip out of his grasp. Walking inside, you remember your luggage and turn around. Moving it all to the doorway, you clasp your hands and give him a little pout, “Will you help me?”

He laughs at your antics and starts grabbing your bags, “You didn’t have to pout to get my help, baby.”

Kissing his cheek, you thank him with a grin. While he’s stuffing your things in the back of his van, Steve pulls up. Robin rolls down the side window when you walk up. You greet them and get a chorus of hellos in return. Leaning your forearms on the car door, you tell Dustin the others are inside, so he runs off to talk to his friends. “Hi, Nance! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Moving her head so she can see you, she smiles and replies, “Yea, it has been a while.” In high school, you ran in parallel social circles. Occasionally, you’d talk, but it wasn’t typical. After everything that happened with the Upside Down, you got closer. Last night, she’d slept over at Robin’s place, where you would’ve been too if you hadn’t procrastinated on packing.

Robin points out, “You’ll be stuck in a car together for a few hours. There’s plenty of time to catch up.”

Dramatically, you sigh and pout, “I wish you could be with us too, Rob.” Reaching into the car, you rest your hand on her shoulder and give Steve puppy eyes.

He cuts in, unamused, “No. I am not gonna be stuck babysitting again.” He points his finger at you, “If you wanna talk to Robin, you’ll have to sit in my car.”

Though you knew he was gonna say that, you still sigh and pat Robin’s shoulder, “Sorry, best friend.” Moving out of their way, they all get out of Steve’s car and disperse. You watch them go inside as Eddie comes up next to you. Grabbing his hand, you tug him towards your house, “C’mon, we gotta call Ms. Byers.”

When planning your trip, you agreed to call Joyce before you left. She wanted to make sure she’d have space ready for all of you to sleep. You’d tried to tell her you’d get rooms at a motel or hotel, but she’d insisted on letting you stay. She’d said it would be too expensive, and, honestly? She was right.

Everyone is in the kitchen area hanging out and chatting, so you go straight to the phone and call your friends in California. Jonathan picks up the line and slurs, “Uh, hello?” It’s obvious he had been asleep moments before. You tell him it’s you, and he responds, “Are you guys heading out now?”

You’re about to reply when Dustin comes up and asks to say something. You tell him it’s not Will on the phone, but all the teens have crowded around, expecting to speak to him. Relinquishing control, you let them do whatever it is they do. You learned early on that it’s best to just get out of the way.

Checking in with the rest of the group, you offer snacks and water if they forgot to pack anything. Everyone seems to be content with their things, though, so you just get water for yourself and Eddie. You know he’ll forget them if you put them on the counter, so you hand him both bottles. He radiates warmth that draws you in, you can’t resist leaning against his side. Glancing up, you see him softly smiling down at you, so you return it in kind.

Mike hangs up the receiver loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “They know we’re coming,” he announces, “We should leave now.” Desperation bleeds through his voice, obviously eager to get to El. You agree and usher everyone out of your kitchen. Heading out to the cars, the group splits into two. Going with Eddie is you, Dustin, and Nancy. Following Steve is Robin, Mike, Lucas, and Max. Ironically, Steve is taking more people even though he has the smaller car, but it had taken a long fight to get to these positions in the first place.

There had been quite a few rules put in place that limited the placements of people:

1. You’re riding with Eddie (that was non-negotiable)

2. Nancy didn’t want to be in the same car as Mike

3. Dustin insisted he be put with you and Eddie

4. Steve threatened not to come if he was put in a car with only younger teens

5. Lucas and Max requested to sit next to each other

The battle had been brutal, taking over two hours. Luckily, you’d been able to make seating arrangements that pleased everyone. People disperse to their respective rides as you slide into Eddie’s passenger seat, putting your backpack between your feet on the floor. The second he turns on the van, you lower the volume. Dustin leans forward with his walkie in hand, “We’re Eagle One. Steve’s car is Eagle Two.”

“When did we decide that?” you ask, confused.

He responds, “In the kitchen,” before turning on the walkie to talk to the other car, “Eagle Two, this is Eagle One, come in.”

Mike’s filtered voice comes through, sounding agitated, “No way. We’re Eagle One, you’re Eagle Two.”

Recognizing the beginning of a fight, you snatch the walkie out of his hand to break it up, “Dustin used Eagle One first, we call dibs.” You turn down the volume and toss it back to Dustin, who leans back in his seat and listens to what Lucas and Mike are saying.

Eddie glances over and chuckles, “Didn’t expect you to side with Henderson, babe.”

You stick your tongue out at him and jokingly say, “I have to throw him a bone sometimes, Eds.” Dustin exclaims indignantly in the background, but you ignore him. Nancy finally makes her way to the van, so you ask, “Everybody here? Are we ready to go?”

Eddie does a head count, though you only have four people, while Dustin calls over to the other car to check they have all their passengers. Confident you won’t leave anyone behind, Eddie pulls out, and Steve follows. Earlier in the week, your friends gathered any relevant maps they had for the trip. You volunteered to be the navigator, so they were all given to you. The route is pretty simple, though. The hardest part of your trip will be finding places to sleep.

The Hawkins scenery passes by for the first fifteen minutes until you merge onto I-80 West. From there, just follow the highway until you arrive in California. The drive should take about 35 hours, split into three to four days, depending on how much driving is done each day.

Watching grass and trees out your window gets old quickly, so you catch up with Nancy. She rests her elbows on the center console while you’re turned in your seat so you can talk closer together. After a while, you’re both gossiping instead, giggling at stupid rumours about Steve. Eddie seems to enjoy them and says he’ll remember to tease Steve about them later.

Both cars need gas, so you take a pit stop. Hopping out, you walk in circles to stretch your legs. Robin joins you and complains about Steve’s music choices. Teasing her, you laugh, “You’re in the loser car. What did you expect?” She glares and jokingly pushes you out of the way to walk inside the store.

Trailing behind Robin, you beg her to buy you an Icee. To your surprise, she does. You thank her endlessly, excited to drink it. Taking it back to the van, you show the slushie off and tell Eddie that Robin bought it for you. He jokes, “Is Robin your sugar mommy now?”

You stick your Icee-stained tongue out at him, and he takes a picture. You’re thrown off for a moment. You didn’t know he took the polaroid camera out of your bag. Huffing, you set down your Icee and try to steal the photo from his hands. He has much longer arms than you, so it doesn’t work out. Sitting back, you whine, “Why do you even want it, Eddie? I brought my camera to take exciting pictures.”

He laughs at your desperation to get the polaroid back and hits your forehead with it, “Every moment with you is exciting, sweetheart.”

The moment is ruined abruptly. “Why are you two being so lovey-dovey?” Mike questions as he settles in where Nancy had been sitting.

You counter, “Why are you being so dumb?” as you snatch the polaroid from Eddie’s hands. The developed picture turned out surprisingly well, so you decide to keep it.

“You’re not the Wheeler I expected,” Eddie comments dryly, also annoyed at the ruined atmosphere. Mike explains that Nancy asked to switch until the next pit stop; you all leave it at that. The last one to arrive, Dustin hops in with a bag of chips, and you’re on the road again.

Instead of listening to Eddie’s mixtapes, you turn on the radio this time. Flipping through channels, you settle on a random choice. There isn’t much of a selection out in rural Indiana. It gets warm in the car, but the breeze feels fantastic when you lower the windows. You all sit in silence as the smell of dry grass and humidity fills your lungs. The wind is so loud it drowns out the radio, but you don’t mind.

A new song starts, and from what you can hear, it sounds familiar. Turning it up, you realize it’s Mamma Mia, and you crank the volume higher. Laughing in delight, you sing along loudly to the lyrics. To your surprise, Eddie sings too. Dustin says something, but you can’t hear it, and you're definitely not gonna stop singing just to hear his most-likely cynical remark.

He gives up trying to convey what he was saying, instead turning up the volume on the walkie. To your surprise, you can hear Robin and Nancy singing along with you from the other car. The song is over, but everyone’s energy is still high. Rolling up your window, you listen to the group singing along with the radio, occasionally joining in when you recognize a song.

The time passes quickly with the new distraction, and soon enough, you’re at the second pit stop. Steve needed to go to the bathroom, so you found the nearest rest stop. Even though it’s going to be quick, you ask Eddie to photograph you underneath a huge tree. He gets one polaroid before Nancy notices and asks if you want her to take a photo of you both. Posing together, she snaps a picture of you and hands back the camera.

When Steve comes out of the restroom, you get an idea and have Eddie ask a stranger to take a photo of your entire group together. Corralling everyone together is a difficult task, only matched by trying to get them to pose for the camera. The end result is worth it, though, the picture is cute, and everyone looks great.

When you return to the cars, Dustin and Mike switch out for Robin and Nancy. Dustin makes it a point for you to be cautious with his walkie as he passes it, claiming, “with great power comes great responsibility.” You promise him you’ll keep it safe as you take it.

Steve is pissed that he’s “stuck babysitting” even though he threatened to ditch if that happened, but Eddie reminds him he’s too far to go back. Aggravated, Steve hisses at the teens to get in the car as he grumbles under his breath. Part of you feels bad, but another part is happy to finally hang out with Robin.

The ensuing conversation is chaotic. Most of your time is spent arguing about stupid things that don’t matter, but you’re grateful because they fill the time. Robin tried to walkie Steve once, wanting to include him in the conversation, but he was still mad, so he ghosted her.

It’s around 9:30 when you stop at a motel for the night. Anyone who has an income helps to pay for the two rooms. Sorting out luggage, Eddie takes both of yours to the room. You two get a bed, Nancy and Robin get the second, and Steve gets the couch. There’s a line for the shower, so you check up on the younger teens. They’re just watching some stupid horror movie, sprawled out randomly on the two beds. Deciding they’re fine, you tease them, “Don’t get nightmares,” before returning to your room.

The water is freezing, so you shower and brush your teeth quickly. You dress in your typical pajamas, one of Eddie’s t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Your movements are sluggish, the tiredness hitting you suddenly. Reaching your bed, you flop down onto the mattress. Eddie’s the last to shower, so you warn him the water’s cold as he walks away. The alarm clock next to the bed glares 10:13 in bright red lettering.

Huffing, you sit up and crawl under the sheets to try and get comfortable. Steve and Robin are already knocked out, but Nancy is still awake. She has the lamp on as she reads a book, but you’re glad for the light. After everything in Hawkins, you have to admit you’re afraid of the dark.

Eddie finishes his shower fast, dumping his towel in a random spot on the floor. You struggle to keep your eyes open as he lies down on his back next to you. Wiggling around, you find a comfortable position resting your face in the crook of his neck. He smells like the cheap bar soap the motel provides, but you still detect a hint of his usual scent underneath. He kisses the side of your head and mumbles, “Good night, sleepyhead,” into your hair. You fumble some words out that vaguely sound like ‘g’night.’

The following two days go relatively the same. The seating arrangements shuffle around slightly, you drive for about three hours, stop at a rest stop, sight-seeing spot, or gas station, take a few pictures, then repeat. When you get bored, you label and decorate your polaroids. You bought a photo album a few weeks ago to hold all the polaroids from the trip.

On the fourth day, you finally make it to the Byers house. It’s almost three am, so everyone just sleeps and agrees to talk tomorrow. You’re the first to wake up, apart from Joyce. The smell of pancakes leads you to the kitchen, where she’s making breakfast. “Good morning,” you say, rubbing your eyes.

She jumps, not realizing you were there, “Oh! Good morning.” Embarrassed, you apologize before asking if there’s anything you can help with. Food is scattered around the counters, and she appears to be having trouble making a meal for so many people. She motions to a cupboard full of pots and pans, “Can you cook some bacon, please? Thank you so much.”

Together, you make bacon, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, pancakes, Eggo waffles (for El), toast, and apple slices. While cooking, the topic of conversation is grim. You’re both recounting your experiences with the Upside Down and all the other terrible shit that happens in Hawkins. You’re grateful for her insight. She has a lot more experience with murderous monsters than you.

The more people that come in, the more chaotic the kitchen becomes. People snatch items from plates and fight to get food first. You’re surprised, but Joyce looks resigned, like she expected it. When El comes down, you give her the dish of Eggos made specifically for her, and she smiles at you. Observing the scramble for food, you decide to wait until everyone’s done before getting some yourself.

“So, what are you guys planning to do today?” Joyce asks, eating some toast. She has to work since it’s Friday, but tomorrow she’ll be able to hang out with you guys too.

“We’re gonna go to the beach for a few hours,” Jonathan informs her.

Lucas admits he’s never been to the beach before, and Max says, “It’s nothing special. Just sand, water, and trash.” That statement sparks an argument about beaches that you’re desperate to get away from. Pulling Robin out of her chair, you bring her to the spare bedroom where everyone’s luggage is. You pull out the bikini, change into it, and ask her if it’s too much.

She laughs in shock and says, “Too much? It’s perfect. Eddie will love it.” Then, she mischievously nudges your side and adds, “It’s sexy. He’ll love it. If you know what I mean.” She raises her eyebrows to emphasize her point and you push her out the door. Her words still give you confidence, so you put a sundress over your bikini and leave the room.

Once everyone gets dressed, you all head to the beach. For convenience, you park next to each other and open the trunks. Grabbing canopies, towels, bags, and coolers, each person brings something down to the sand. You help Steve set up an umbrella so Robin and Eddie can sit with you.

The sun is burning hot on your back so you peel off the sundress and leave it in your bag. Though you don’t notice, Eddie’s eyes are glued to you. His breath hitches at the view of your ass when you bend down. He’s never seen you wear such a revealing bikini before. The simple sight of your exposed skin makes his heart pound.

Jonathan has a cooler of drinks and popsicles that he’s offering to the kids. You ask for a coconut popsicle, and Lucas tosses one to you. Right after you start to eat it, you realize you left your sunscreen in the van. Letting Robin and Steve know where you’re going, you head towards the parking lot.

Eddie showed you a trick to open his van’s door without the key. There’s a dent in the door that will release the lock if hit hard enough. You’re about to attempt it when two hands rest on your hips. Scared, you jump and whip around, only to find Eddie behind you. He laughs as you angrily glare at him. “Sorry baby,” he says softly, kissing your cheek. His hair tickles your nose and you giggle, accepting his apology.

He holds up his keys and opens the door for you. Or at least, that’s what you assumed he was doing. Instead, he reaches inside, himself, and grabs the camera. You know he’s going to ask for a photo, so you whine, “I need my sunscreen, Eddie!” Still, he smoothly talks his way into just one picture.

Resigned, you pose for the camera, holding your popsicle out in front of you. There’s drops of melted ice cream gathering at the bottom, near your hands, but you wait until the camera clicks to do anything about it. Cupping your tongue, you gather the liquid then lick a long stripe up the entire length of the popsicle.

Eddie groans, “Jesus fucking christ,” before placing his free hand on your chest and pushing until your back hits the van. He crowds your space, hand remaining firm on you. His eyes are hooded as he looks into your wide, confused gaze. You hold your popsicle in front of his face and remind him, “it’s gonna melt.”

He pushes the popsicle away using the hand holding your camera. With the other hand, he can feel your heart racing underneath his palm. Your breath comes out in shaky pants as he slowly inches his hand upwards to rest on your neck. Leaning forward, he whispers in your ear, “God, you have no fuckin’ idea, do you?” An involuntary whine slips out, but it’s quickly silenced by a light squeeze to your neck.

“So innocent you can’t even see that I want you, huh? My sweet angel, so good you can’t recognize you’re being bad.” The way he speaks about you is reverant, like he worships the ground under feet. His big brown eyes shine with love and lust. You stare into them until your lips meet, then your eyelids flutter shut.

The kiss is intense, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. He takes the lead and you let him, unsure of what to do. The tip of his tongue runs against the seam of your lips and you gasp, unintentionally letting him in. He explores until you have to part to breathe. A string of saliva connects your lips as you both gasp for air. He grabs your free hand and tugs you into the back of the van.

Shutting the door and setting the camera to the side, he grips your hips and pulls you onto his lap, your back fit snugly to his front. You feel his lips kissing the crook of your neck. “Do you want to continue?” The words are spoken into your skin. You nod, but he doesn’t move, “No, use your words. I need to hear it.”

“Yes, I wanna continue,” you speak quickly, adding, “please.” You can feel his smile on your skin, apparently pleased with your words. He presses wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, starting behind your ear. Sliding his hands up from your hips, he slips them underneath the sides of your bikini cups. He massages your flesh before pinching your nipples. The sudden action makes you jolt. He chuckles at your surprise and moves his hands lower.

Fiddling around with the strings on your bottoms, a harsh tug pulls the ties undone. The light taps on your thigh signal you to lift your hips, and he throws the piece to the side. His right hand splays across your stomach and slowly heads downward. Leading with his middle finger, he continues until his entire hand cups you. His finger swirls around your hole, gathering the wetness there. The movement makes his palm lightly brush against your clit, but any stimulation is enough to send you reeling.

You’ve completely forgotten about your popsicle until he reminds you, “Don’t want it to melt, do you?” Stopping all movement, he waits for you to act. Shakily, you bring it to your lips and take a lick. Pleased, he slides his middle finger inside you with one fluid stroke. Forgetting all about your popsicle again, you let out a loud whine and focus on the feeling of his finger against your walls. He thrusts a few times, before deciding you can handle a second.

He runs the pads of his fingers up and down trying to find the spongy spot that’s guaranteed to make your toes curl. You gasp when his fingers brush against it, so he massages that area, purposefully rubbing the heel of his palm into your clit. You try to breathe, but you can’t. It feels like all the air has left your body, like your lungs have decided to stop working.

The popsicle stick is sliding out of your hand and you don’t even notice it, but Eddie does. Snatching it up with his left hand, he coos, “Do you need help, baby?” Unsure of what he’s gonna do, you nod cautiously. Bringing the popsicle to your lips, he tells you to open up. You obey, and he slowly presses it in until you can feel the freezing tip against the back of your throat. Pulling the popsicle stick back, you whimper at the loss. Confident you can handle it, he pushes it in and out matching the tempo of his hand.

The cold constantly grabs your attention as he thrusts it in all the way, every time. Now in the wet heat of your mouth, the popsicle is melting at an alarming rate. You’re trying to swallow it all, but there’s so much it drips down your chin and spills onto your chest. “So messy,” he teases, but you barely hear him, the pleasure from both ends is entirely too distracting. Attempting to ground yourself, you grip onto his right arm with both hands.

You’re getting close when he pauses to pull the popsicle out of your mouth. There’s only a little left on each side of the stick, so he eats it and throws the wood away. He praises you for being so obedient, “Good girl, you did so well for me.” You clench hard at his words and he mentally notes your response before moving his fingers again. You don’t know how he knows, but he asks, “Does my angel need to cum?”

Nodding, you squeeze your eyes shut, hard. Shaking his head, he continues, “You can, if you ask nicely.”

“Eddie!” you whine when he pushes particularly hard with his palm, “Can I please cum?” He hums in thought, pretending to consider your request. Meanwhile, his fingers are moving even faster than before, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your grip is like iron, now, fingernails digging into his skin.

He concedes, “Well, how can I say no when you ask so nicely? Go ahead.” You see stars behind your closed eyes, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. He presses soothing kisses to your neck and continues his hand motions until you try and squirm away, overstimulated.

You accidentally push back hard against his bulge and you both groan. Helping you off his lap, he gently lays you on your back. Brushing sweat-slicked hair off your forehead, he takes in all the mess on your chest. He licks all the white residue from the popsicle off of you, and you hope silently that he can’t hear your heart pounding hard under his tongue.

“Do you still wanna continue?” he inquires, chin resting on your sternum. You say yes, so he rucks up the top of your bikini. Mischievously, he sucks small marks on the sides of your breasts where the bikini will cover. He notices you watching with impatient eyes and shimmies out of his boxers, sitting on his knees. Lifting up your hips, he rests them over his thighs and gently runs his hands up and down your bare skin.

For a second he appears to be thinking, before he leans over and reaches under one of the seats. You watch, perplexed as he blindly searches, before pulling out a condom. In disbelief, you ask, “Really?”

He shrugs, “You never know when you’re gonna get laid in the back of a van.” You gawk at him, but say nothing more. Watching him put it on is mesmerizing, his hands are so nimble and big. You’re still fascinated as he grips the base of his dick and runs the tip through your folds. “I’m not gonna lie, it might hurt,” he admits, “I’ll go slow, okay?”

You just nod, the anticipation makes you feel afraid to say anything, in fear he’ll turn around and realize this isn’t what he wants. He pushes in entirely in one long movement, kissing your neck because he knows it will help distract you. The stretch burns, you scrunch your eyes at the feeling. Focusing on the crook of your neck, he bites down and sucks to make a mark.

You moan out and clench hard around him. Knowing he’s marking you is so indescribably hot that you can’t control yourself. The rational part of your brain takes over for a few seconds, and you complain, “you’re gonna leave a mark, everyone’s gonna see.”

Eddie laughs, “Well, it feels like you enjoyed it, sweetheart.” Effortlessly, he calls you out on your lie. Flustered, you stutter some lame excuse, but he continues to laugh at you.

Deciding to test the waters, he pulls out partially and pushes back in slowly. When you respond positively, he begins to speed up. The pleasure builds up and you cry out, digging into his shoulders with your nails. “Be a good girl and be quiet for me. Someone might hear you, angel,” he commands, reminding you that you’re in a beach parking lot.

“‘M sorry, I’ll try, promise,” you whimper, wanting to please him. All your energy is dedicated to keeping quiet, but it doesn’t work. With each thrust, you get louder and louder. It’s almost embarrassing how fast your second orgasm builds up, but he just feels so good.

His knuckles brush against your cheek as he coos, “Do you need more help?” You make a noise of agreement, so he slides two fingers into your mouth. They taste slightly like you. Moaning around them, you suck, which makes him groan. He rolls his hips harder, knowing you won’t be able to make noise. Every single time he hits the right spot to make you see stars. Dropping his other hand down, he rubs your clit in tight circles, increasing your bliss. It’s too hard to keep your eyes open now, so you allow them to flutter shut. The loss of sight only adds to the pleasure and you can feel your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

Eddie can feel the way your walls flutter around him. He demands your attention by pushing roughly on your tongue. Your eyes shoot open, and you look at him, vision blurred by tears. “Are you close?” he asks, his tone indicating that he’s expecting something from you. Knowing what he wants, you beg for your release around his fingers. Grinning widely, he commands, “Cum around my cock, I know you can do it. Be a good girl, cum for me.” He says more, but you can’t hear it, all senses consumed by your release. Your orgasm triggers his, and he finishes inside the condom.

Pulling out, he takes off the condom and ties the end, throwing it in the direction of the popsicle stick. You’d chastise him for being so gross if your mind wasn’t so hazy. In a daze, you watch him pick up the camera and take a photo. He takes the nearest marker, a neon pink one, and writes in shaky letters “my angel,” adding a heart to the right.

Finished, he pours some water from a bottle onto his beach towel and wipes the mess off your legs. You flinch when he presses too hard on a sensitive spot. He apologizes, cleaning you with a gentler touch. Eddie pulls your top to its proper place before finding your bikini bottoms and tying them for you. He slips on his swim trunks and nudges your leg, “C’mon, you need to rinse off.” You try to stay on the floor, but he forces you up and takes you to the beach showers outside.

With shaky legs, you struggle to stand so you opt to lean on Eddie, who wraps his arm around your waist. He turns on the water and helps wash the sticky coconut residue off your face and torso. His touch is soothing, and you lean into his hand, closing your eyes. You realize that you’re going to have to go back to the beach, so you mutter, “I don’t think I can walk.”

Turning off the water, he offers a piggyback ride. You perk up, “Really?”

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, “Yes, really.” Kneeling down, he lets you climb onto his back. Before going back to the beach, he stops by the car and hands you his leather jacket, “For the mark,” he says, tapping his neck to show you where your hickey is. You slip it on and wrap your hands around his neck, squeezing tighter and begging him not to drop you when he begins to run. “Special delivery!” he exclaims, setting you down between Steve and Robin.

You instantly drop back, “I’ve never been so glad to be on solid ground.” Dustin calls Eddie away, leaving just the three of you.

Steve has a stupid smirk on his face, which makes you squint at him. After a tense second, he asks, “Yea? You’re not glad about other things?” Realizing he’s pointing to the hickey, you pull the jacket higher on your neck, embarrassed.

Steve laughs, but Robin defends you, “Leave her alone, you knew they were gonna go make out.” She turns to you, “Next time you two are gonna run off somewhere, think of better excuses. Sunscreen and the bathroom are too generic.” You completely forgot about your sunscreen! You groan and drop your head back, covering your face with your hands. At least they think you were only making out.

Continuing the conversation, Steve starts bragging about the craziest places he’s made out. You tune out the conversation in favour of watching Eddie. He looks so genuinely happy here, with his friends, having fun. He catches your eyes and smiles wide. You grin back, content to watch him living happy and healthy.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie smut #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #fluff #humour #humor #smut #my writing

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mochiwrites · 24 days

Text

secret husbands au — master post!

since… that’s a thing I need now, apparently! :D

this is a collection of all of the important bits of the au! scar and grian knew one another pre-hermitcraft! they were married long before scar joined back in season 4. none of the hermits actually know they’re married because they’re oblivious. and they think scar and grian have been pining after each other for years. so they decide to get them together!

there is hermitshipping involved (obviously) so if that’s not your thing, this au isn’t for you!

also this au is like 95% fluff and 5% angst. sorry angst lovers, the fluff enjoyers get well fed with this one

caution: things might get a little suggestive, but that’s it. no real warnings for this au!

- main tag: #secret husbands au

fics/drabbles.

scarian’s first meeting / the cuddle curse / avalanche / scarian’s reunion / scar's birthday /

arts.

secret husbands ; by @nothavinganygoodtimes / drabble ; by @hermitcraft-my-beloved /

hypixel era.

scar backstory / how grian and scar met / rough timeline / the roommate offer / scar job hunt / jellie / scar's nightmare / scar baking cookies / dating? / grian being sick / the proposal: one ; two ; / scarian cooking (or... trying to) / grian goodtimes: one ; two / scar twig to hunk / scar and food / scar being touch starved / from tcd to hypixel /

hermit s4 - evo.

scar joining hermitcraft: one ; two ; / hermits knowing g went missing / scar and grian's sweater / grian losing his wedding ring: one ; two / grian showing scar his watcher form / scar becoming vex / cub and scar / grian not looking for scar /

hermitcraft.

grian joining hermitcraft / closure from evo / grian's reaction to scar vex / bdubs starts it / season 6 thoughts: one ; two ; / season 7 thoughts: one ; two ; / season 8 thoughts: one ; / season 9 thoughts: one ; / season 10 thoughts: one ; / sweater and blanket: one ; two / king ren arc: one ; / mycelium resistance/mayor stuff: one ; two ; three ; four / grian and food / grian and sensory overload /

life series.

potential life series / differences in third life /

lore asks.

how they show affection / the betting pool / vow renewals / martyn voice: scar is tricking a married man! / why no one realizes in s6 / empires knowing / scar and grian's bets / nightmares: one ; two ; / grian playing with scar's hair / grian and nests / "avian" grian: one ; two ; three ; four ; / mcc / vex lore / watcher lore / scar doing art / eating habits / wearing each others clothes / scarian getting their suits / old suits for renewal / scar's bday /

misc.

the initial post / third life thoughts / "why didn't you tell me we were dating?" / who knows vs who doesn't / "I sure hope he does" / secret husbands syndrome / scarian's marriage / "scar loves you" /

#secret husbands au #CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT THIS AU IS ONLY 3 DAYS OLD #AND THERE'S ALREADY SO MUCH UNDER THE LORE ASKS SECTION #JFC JGHFJKHGF /POS #also I will. just say.#that if any art of this au starts circulating it will be added here #I thought it might've been presumptuous to add an art section jkghdfhgfgj

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marvel-ous-m · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson’s Guide for How to Adopt a Jock in Four Easy Steps (2/5)

Part One

Part Three

A.N.: Um... guys, WHAT?! The outpouring of love and support for a blurb I had sitting in my Notes app for the last two months has been absolutely wild. I’ve been writing for the better part of the last day, and this is now a ~7k, five chapter fic that I will be posting to Tumblr as well as my AO3. I can’t thank y’all enough for all of the support, and I hope you like where this is heading!

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

After Steve finished ranting about the middle schoolers he spent time with, Eddie launched into a description of the campaign he was working on for Hellfire. Steve listened intently as Eddie spoke, slowly making his way through Eddie’s sandwich and the bottle of water until both were finished. Eddie kept talking after Steve finished his food, distracting himself by going on a tangent about goblins in D&D. He was pulled from his rant at the sound of a soft thump- which, Eddie realized with surprise, was Steve’s forehead slumping down far enough to hit the tabletop.

Steve sat up almost immediately when his head hit the table, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

Eddie snorted at Steve’s antics, piling his books together. “Damn Stevie, I didn’t realize I was that boring.”

“Stevie?” Steve whispered under his breath, then shook his head, shooting a sheepish smile Eddie’s way. “You didn’t bore me- I liked it, really, I just-”

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie cut Steve off, smirking at him. “You don’t need to make excuses. No offense man, but you kinda look like shit, I can tell you haven’t been sleeping well. Speaking of which- why are you even here? You should probably be at home resting, not zombie-walking your way through a day of classes.”

Steve hummed at that, shrugging and resting his cheek on his palm. “S’better here than it is at home.”

Eddie frowned at that, his brow creasing. Steve had just told him a few minutes ago that his parents hadn’t been home in three months, and all of Hawkins knew he was the only child of the Harringtons. What was so bad about spending the day in a giant mansion that most definitely had central heating? Eddie would kill to spend these winter months in a house like that instead of under approximately fifty blankets (while somehow still freezing his ass off) in the trailer.

Steve breathed out a small puff of air, and Eddie noticed that his eyes had slipped shut in the minute-or-so that Eddie had been distracted by his internal monologue. Shit, Steve was really exhausted. Eddie sighed and stood, quietly loading his books into his backpack. After zipping up his backpack and pulling it onto his shoulder, Eddie gently shook Steve’s shoulder, wincing sympathetically. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Steve up, but Mrs. Boliene would have a fit if she saw Steve like this.

He was definitely not expecting Steve to practically jump out of the chair, or for his breathing to suddenly grow erratic, in response to being woken up. There was something in his eyes- a kind of fear that Eddie could only associate to something he saw in Wayne’s eyes after waking his uncle from a particularly bad nightmare.

Eddie held his hands up, taking a step back from Steve. “Hey- sorry, it’s just- Ms. Boliene can be kinda a bitch about people sleeping in the library. I know a place you can rest for a while if ya want. Let’s be honest, you probably aren’t going to be learning anything if you go to the rest of your classes today.”

Steve clenched his right hand a couple times- Eddie would file that particular coping mechanism away to ask about later- then nodded, his breathing (mostly) back to a normal pace. “Sorry about that. Yeah man, whatever you say.”

Eddie nodded, let his arms drop, then cleared his throat. “Right, just go ahead and follow me, King Steve.”

Steve sighed and stood with a wince, gathering the garbage from his (Eddie’s) lunch before following the other boy out of the library. He tossed the trash in the garbage bin outside the library then took a couple of long strides forward to catch up to Eddie. “Can you um- maybe, like… not call me that?”

“Sure thing, Steve-o. Here, hang a right.” Eddie turned down a hallway and Steve followed, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That’s it?”

Eddie stopped walking when they reached the drama room door, shrugging. “Yeah man, that’s it. You don’t wanna be called something, I’m not gonna call you that. Nicknames are supposed to be fun, dude.”

Steve nodded in understanding, but his brow was furrowed- he was clearly deep in thought. Eddie stood there a moment, waiting for Steve to say something. When it became apparent that the jock was going to keep his thoughts to himself, Eddie smiled tightly and opened the drama room door, walking past the gaggle of students sitting together and eating lunch at the front of the room. He ignored their stares and walked to the back of the room to a set of double doors, which he opened and then led Steve through. “This is where Hellfire meets. You can lay down in the corner over there on the couch cushions and blankets. I set that up last year for my mid-morning, skip-P.E. nap time.”

Steve blinked in surprise, then turned to Eddie with a playful smirk. “Is that why you’re repeating this year? Slept through too much P.E.?”

Eddie chuckled at that. Harrington had some sass to him, huh? “One of the many reasons. What can I say, getting sweaty for some dumbass P.E. teacher just doesn’t agree with me.” ‘There are much better things to get sweaty for’, a distant voice in Eddie’s head whispered. Eddie pushed that thought away, shaking his head at himself. Harrington was not the kind of guy to think those kinds of things around.

Steve giggled to himself- honest to god giggled, it was quite possibly the best sound that Eddie had ever heard- then stepped into the room, taking in the variety of chairs surrounding the giant table and the various decorations on the walls. Suddenly, Steve’s playful smile disappeared, turning to a grimace. “Um, are you sure it’s okay for me to sleep here, Eds? Don’t you have Hellfire here later tonight? I wouldn’t want to intrude-”

“Stevie, I promise it’s fine. You’ll probably be awake by the time we’re in here playing through the campaign anyways. Just don’t worry about it and get some rest, okay?”

Steve nodded, walking to the corner and sitting down on the cushions. Eddie smiled reassuringly at him from his place at the doorway, then waved goodbye to Steve. “I’m off to English and Chem. I’ll be back in about two hours, but I could lock the doors in the meantime?” Eddie pulled a lanyard out of his pocket, grinning. “Perks of being club president. I’m the only one with a key other than the drama teacher, and he never comes in here. I just figured- maybe you would sleep better knowing that no one can get in? You would be able to get out, obviously, but- y’know what? Maybe this is creepy, pretend like I didn’t say anything-”

“-Thank you, Eddie. I… would appreciate that.” Steve cut off Eddie’s (admittedly awkward) rant and punctuated his request with a yawn, scrubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Yeah, yeah of course dude, whatever you need.” Eddie stepped out and locked the door behind himself, then slumped his back against the door. Step One: Get Steve Harrington to Take Care of Himself, complete. Time for Step Two.

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

A.N.- tagging those who requested/insinuated a request, lmk if you’d like to be added/taken off the tag list.

@ellietheasexylibrarian @cuips-not-cute @melodymeddler @i-have-three-feelings @sc00ps-ahoy @singmeyoursimpsong @patchworkgargoyle @spectrum-spectre @devondespresso @thesuninyaface @obsessivlyme @angeldreamsoffanfic @carlyv @nburkhardt @inspirationorinsanity @rebelspykatie @my2amgaythoughts @lavenderagenda @just-a-tiny-void @mamafaithful @breadboi66 @beholdingloser @randomfandomcontent @oftirnanog @yellowdevilkitten @steves-strapcollection @keep-er-steddie

#stranger things #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #1984 steddie meeting au my beloved #stranger things fic #steddie fic #pre s4 #pre s4 meeting

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mirkwoodmunson · 2 years

Text

meltdown

eddie munson x gn!y/n

2k words

sometimes the bullying is too much. sometimes eddie needs you to step in.

contains: aaaangst but then a lil fluff at the end ig so it’s ok, jason carver, hurt!eddie, pre-s4 tw: cursing, physical/verbal bullying, violence, meltdown a/n: companion piece to bad day. eddie's turn to have a rough time! disc: i do not give permission to share my content outside of tumblr; please reblog and do not repost; my content (even sfw) is not meant for minors; i am not responsible for the media you consume online.

“Piss off and juggle some balls,” Eddie snarls out, before abruptly getting slammed back into the side of his van, one of Jason’s basketball goons grabbing him by the vest, fists twisted into the denim and digging into his shoulders as he’s held against the vehicle.

He lets out a wheeze and then growls, attempts lashing out like a cornered animal but it only makes the jock pull him forward to slam him back again — harder — eliciting another gasp from Eddie as the wind is knocked from him a second time.

“You really shouldn’t litter, y’know,” the goon drawls smugly, as Jason Carver himself collects from the ground the pages of campaign material Eddie had dropped after being shoved into this altercation without warning. Material he’d been working on for the past three months.

Eddie’s eyes grow wide and panicked as Jason shuffles through them, the jock’s eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled, face twisted into a sneer to say ‘what the fuck am I looking at, weirdo??’

Eddie’s stomach drops, movement ceasing as he watches carefully.

“H-hey c’mon man, c’mon just drop ‘em, alright? Carver!”

The blond boy snorts, meeting Eddie’s pleading gaze with a careless one of his own.

“Sure, freak. Sure I’ll drop ‘em,” he coos.

Jason smiles, flat and ice-cold, and tears a neat rip right down the middle of the pages, Eddie immediately crying out angrily and squirming, distraught shouts only growing louder with every slow rriiiiippp Jason draws out for his own amusement.

He does eventually drop the pages — the small little squares he’d made out of them — lets them out of his hands slowly to flutter away in the breeze.

It’s gut-wrenching, the way Jason just grins in delight as Eddie furiously tries to break free, tries to thrust himself after Jason, tries to defend himself — but all his efforts earn him is a swift punch to the gut from the goon holding him.

Eddie doubles over with a huff and blinks rapidly as his vision explodes with color, lungs sputtering and stinging as he tries to chase a deep breath of air that they can’t hold with their ache, arms wrapped around his middle as he starts to sink to the ground.

He can hear nimble, quick-paced footsteps, someone running towards the trio, but in his position he doesn’t see you come up right behind Jason with your arms thrown back, hears you but doesn’t see as you cry out in a blind rage and swing your book bag with full might into the side of Jason Carver’s head.

He misses getting to see Jason practically soar to the ground, but he does see him flounder on the pavement, eyes wide in his startled panic, holding his head and trying to place his attacker.

You keep screaming, wildly swinging your heavy bag, taking a defensive stance in front of Eddie who’s still holding his abdomen, curled into himself and coughing.

“FUCK OFF YOU ROTTING PIECES OF DOG-SHIT!! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!! GET — AWAY!! I’LL FUCKING SHOVE MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS, JASON CARVER; SO FAR YOUR OWN MOTHER IS GONNA TASTE THE SOLE!!”

You get a few more good whacks in, making Jason and his goon stumble as the latter helps the former to his feet, trying to keep him steady as they gather themselves and attempt a hasty retreat.

“FUCKING FREAKS!” The goon throws over his shoulder before they both break into a run, Jason stumbling a bit and struggling with his footing.

As soon as they’re focused on high-tailing it out of there you drop your bag and sink to your knees in front of Eddie’s huddled figure, the boy still pulling in deep breaths that squeal with a wheeze in between his coughs.

“Eds?? Eddie baby, lookit me, look here,” you cup his cheeks and gently lift his head, pushing curls away from his face to give him room to breathe and checking for any other injuries; your stomach drops when he slowly looks up with your encouragement, his bottom lip quivering as he tries to keep the tears restrained but a few of them have already fallen down his rosy cheeks. He looks up, but avoids your intense, concerned gaze.

“Oh, Eddie… sweetie, come on, you gotta get up; I got you, c’mon…” you sigh gently and pull one of his arms around your shoulders, carefully lifting him with you. He leans into you and lets out a soft whine, his other arm tightly wrapped against his middle, letting you maneuver him.

“Keep doing those deep breaths, babe, you got it… it’s alright you got it… c’mon, m'gonna take you home, okay? It’s alright…”

Your voice keeps him docile, keeps him calm, keeps him focused and breathing and moving. He wants to hide, wants to be in the quiet dark, wants to crawl away with you so he lets you guide him to the passenger side of his van and into the seat. As soon as you close his door he leans his arms up on the dash and buries his head in them, shoulders heaving.

Your heart sinks to your feet and you breathe out slowly.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that piece of shit…” You spit under your breath, glancing back at the school. You take a few minutes to gather whatever scraps of Eddie's campaign you can find -- whatever hasn't already blown away -- tucking them into your bookbag as you scoop it up along with the rest of Eddie's things. You walk around to the driver's side of the van, hopping up into the seat.

Eddie tries to calm down when he hears you come in, looks away and lifts his shirt to swipe over his face, a quick successions of sniffles. You can see him tremble, errant hairs shivering, the way his hands moved almost frantically, body rigid and vibrating with adrenaline.

You set your bag in the back and then just sit silent for a bit. Letting Eddie have his time to quietly vent the steam while he tries to hide it from you — huddled away and trying to collect himself before you press for info or speak up again.

When he’s down to just heavy breaths, you reach over and slowly stroke his arm, testing the waters. They’re lukewarm and still, and Eddie just sits and lets you comfort him.

“Are you okay, Eds?" 'Silly question,' you think, 'of course he's not okay.'

"Do- …d’you wanna, talk about it?”

Eddie does a big shrug and huffs, looking into his lap while fiddling with his rings absently. He sniffles, swipes a sleeve against his nose, shaking his head a little.

“What’s there to talk about.” His voice is raspy and soft, stating it plainly; he still wheezes softly. You wince and withdraw your hand.

“Same shit as always. Bunch’a fuckin' little shits ganging up on someone bigger to feel tough.”

The quiet settles over you again.

And then you jump in your seat, when Eddie begins punching the dash in front of him, practically screaming,

“SAME FUCKING SHIT!! IT’S THE SAME — FUCKING — SHIT!! EVERY — FUCKING — DAY — OF MY LIIIFE!!”

He’s punching with each word, choking on a sob with every pained breath, and then he’s just shouting at the end, fists digging into his thighs as he strains with the force of his bellowing, face red and wet.

You just freeze and go quiet, eyes glued down onto your hands in your lap, flinching with the punches and closing your eyes when he yells.

He breaks off with a sob and rakes fingers into his tangled hair — you hear strands snap — tugging against the roots as he cries deep from his aching belly, rasping with each breath.

“It doesn’t stop!! It doesn’t stop it doesn’t stop it doesn’t—“

He stomps his foot, pulling his hair — he was so strained just sitting in place, groaning and crying and shifting irritably like he needed to do something, needed to move. Something angry and red and sad and tired was trying to break free, pushing at his seams, and it frustrated him that all he could do was just cry. He felt itchy and tight in his skin.

It wasn’t often, but you had seen him like this a few times before. When it got too be too much for him to hide with a grin and lame joke, too much to tuck away into the attic of his mind.

It was the ones that smiled the easiest, it seemed, that had the most they wanted to hide.

Grin and bear it.

It broke your heart every time. How could it not?

Eddie was such a strong person, his will unmatched and pride hung high — not proud, per se, but very aware of how bright he shone, and more than happy to shed that light. Happy to stand strong and be that person everyone saw him as — that you saw him as — untouchable, unwavering, mighty.

Eddie the Brave.

It broke your heart to see that light flicker and go out, even if only momentarily. Broke your heart to see Eddie — who was always the one to comfort and protect you — need comfort and protection himself.

But every light needs tending to stay lit. The flames may go out but they can be fanned into a roar once more.

Eddie would always help you pick up your pieces, you would always be there to help him pick up his.

He sits rigid in his seat with his palms cupped over his face, muffling the cries and sniffles, hiding the tears that fell freely — hid them till they were trickling down his wrists and dripping from his chin.

“Eddie…sweetheart…” Just the warmth, tenderness, of your voice makes his shoulders slump, quivering with the force of the next few sobs as his muscles struggle to keep taught.

“Baby c’mere,” you soothe, reaching to him and carefully sliding a hand around his wrist. You pull it away, and he lets you guide him towards you slowly. You lift his hand and bring it up and around your shoulder, and Eddie leans in with it and puts his other arm around you as well, now crying freely against your shoulder as he sinks into your awaiting arms and lets the meltdown run its course as you comfort him.

"I'm sick of it, y/n! I'm-I'm fuckin' sick of it!"

You tuck your face into brown curls, let your eyes slide closed as you murmur calming shushes, hand smoothing slow, deep circles into his back, gently grazing with your fingertips; other hand clutching tight to the scruff of his shirt, holding Eddie to you dearly.

"I know. I know, Eds..."

It's all you can say. Nothing would really make it any better right now, he just needed to let it out, just needed a moment to be comforted and told 'yes. you're right, Eddie. It does fucking suck. But you'll be okay.'

After a while he's more responsive -- quieted down -- rubbing your back as well and self-soothingly brushing his cheek against the shoulder of your soft, warm shirt, just under your collarbone. Listening to your heartbeat, letting that ground him.

You press nuzzled kisses into his hair, against his forehead and temple and the bridge of his nose, which makes him smile and crinkle it sweetly.

He leans up slowly in his seat while you keep a hand pressed to his back, watching him orient himself and rub his eyes, trying to physically wipe away the thoughts swarming over the incident. He smooths his palms into his thighs, over and over, a slow and soothing gesture. Breathes deep and exhales, still wheezing a little, still aching, but now mostly just tired.

"...can you, stay over tonight?" Eddie croaks just above a whisper, finally meeting your eye.

You smile and nod, holding up the hand you'd had on his back.

He smiles too, soft and weary, fishes the keys out of his pocket and drops them into your palm.

Your gaze shifts to the little keychain attached to them, a clear plastic heart that holds a tiny cutout picture of the two of you from a photo booth, giggly and excited after seeing The Return of the Living Dead.

“I can help you fix the campaign! You’ve been working so hard on it.”

You start up the van, Eddie squeezes your thigh -- a silent 'thank you,' and you head off towards Forest Hills.

#100th post lets gooo!!!!!!#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson x gn!y/n #stranger things x you #eddie munson fic #mine #1k

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

Text

dio. 🤍

ao3 • writing tag • time travel au tag (stories & snippets) steddie drabbles & microfics ☕️ ko-fi vibes only. mostly steddie, sometimes clarkson.

🌷 WIPs & multi-chaptered stories

➤ i’ll try. i’ll try. (but i couldn’t be better) WIP M | 74k | 12/? | time travel au, angst, steve whump Sent back to 1983, Steve tries to save his friends from everything that's coming and takes on the battle against the Upside Down alone with El by his side.

➤ nice to meet you, where you been? T | 12k | 3/3 | tattoo shop au, pure fluff, trans eddie Chrissy sends Eddie to check out a tattoo shop. Little does he know it belongs to Steve Harrington, or that they’ll both be falling for each other at lightning

➤ untitled knight!Steve / bard!Eddie WIP T | 10k | 2/? | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | ... regency au (freeform), enemies to lovers Eddie is a bard of great renown who returns to Hawkins ready and willing to spite the people who cast him out all his life. He is in search of his muse: the knight Dustin has been writing to him about who has inspired his greatest ballads and poems. Dustin’s Sir Steve is nowhere to be found, but Lord Harrington seems to hold a grudge against Eddie and he wants to find out why.

➤ shattered on the cliff’s edge, trapped by the tides WIP M | 5.8k | 2/7 | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | ... A steddie ghost story. Steve Harrington, disgraced and disowned by his father for moral insanity, has been haunted by eerie dreams of a mysterious lighthouse ever since he was a little boy. His lighthouse quickly turns from recurring night terror to gruesome reality when his superior delegates him to fix the broken light and be the new keeper. But he soon finds out that it is he who is being kept.

➤ tales of blue | who did this to you? WIP M | 13k | 3/4 | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | Eddie POV, pre-s4, injured Steve, hurt/comfort One summer's day in 1985, Eddie finds a very injured Steve in the boathouse, and even though he doesn't want the kind of trouble that this might bring, he can't just leave him there. So, scared though he is, he takes Steve to the one person he trusts to always make everything better.

➤ untitled kas!eddie / steve WIP M | 5.3k | 1/? | tumblr: part 1 | post-canon, hurt/comfort, enemies steddie The extent of his brain injuries and the intensity of his migraines is something Steve has been keeping secret from everyone. When he goes to Kas to let him feed, however, the sudden blood loss gives him a migraine. Kas decides to take care of him.

one shots & ficlets under the cut (ao3) -> ao3 link in the tumblr fic post

🌷 fluff & floaty

floor time fic (ao3) Eddie POV, falling in love, fluff, neurodivergent steddie

eddie likes Good Words (ao3) Steve POV, stablished relationship, neurodivergent steddie, echolalia

rambly Steve in love Eddie POV, established relationship, love confession

soft insomniacs (ao3) Eddie POV, short trans Eddie, soft Steve, bickering, established relationship

3 am phone call (ao3) Steve POV, soft, pre-relationship

car ride in love Eddie POV, floaty, boys in love, Andante, Andante

stargazing Steve POV, floaty & soft, boys in love

sick fic Eddie POV, domestic fluff & silliness, steve is sick, eddie is in love

first kiss Eddie POV, floaty, boys in love

loving eddie munson (is a full body experience) (ao3) Steve POV, floaty, boys in love, introspection, love confessions

floaty steddie date hours Eddie POV, established relationship, date night, marriage proposals, softness, dancing in the rain

sick fic 2 (woollen bat hat) Eddie POV, sick!Steve, soft boyfriends in love, cuddling, Eddie reads Momo to Steve

🌷 yearning

✨yearning hours (a-side) (ao3) Eddie POV, heart-wrenching yearning, light imagery, (mis)communication, vulnerability, first kiss

✨yearning hours (b-side) (ao3) Steve POV, insecurity, trauma, darkness imagery, vulnerability, first kiss

✨yearning hours (bonus track) (ao3) Eddie POV, light imagery, vulnerability, getting together

summer nights were made for steve (ao3) Eddie POV, yearning, getting together, the stars are pretty but steve is prettier

✨yearning hours (hidden track) (ao3) Steve POV, floaty music, getting together, sudden love confession, pining, A Flock of Seagulls

✨ high yearning make-out fic (smutty) (ao3) Eddie POV, recreational drug use, dry humping, coming in pants, so much yearning, so much kissing, spicy six as friends

🌷 hurt/comfort

insomniac eddie & human weighted blanket steve Eddie POV, developing relationship, comfort

Eddie being inexperienced at relationships Eddie POV, established relationship, dramatic eddie, boys in love, cuddles

spiralling writer eddie Eddie POV, established relationship, comfort, emotionally intelligent steve

‘You’d be a great dad’ Eddie POV, established relationship, insecure Eddie, comfort

steve has seizures (ao3) Steve POV, angst, self-isolation, seizures, post-s3, found family, background steddie

nonverbal steve gets a hug (ao3) Steve POV, established steddie, nonverbal steve, caring eddie, touch starved steve

sensory overload steddie Steve POV, soft boys, building relationship, nonverbal steve, touch-averse eddie, floor time as the cure

🌷 angst & hurt/no comfort

spiralling steve Steve POV, traumatised steve, nonverbal steve, established steddie, eventual comfort

breakup Steve POV, steve is not okay, breaking up

My Boy Steve POV, major character death, post-s4, inspired by My Girl funeral scene

memory wipe musings Steve POV, post-canon, established relationship, breakup-ish

post-breakup steddie Steve POV, a follow-up for @steddieas-shegoes prompt-fill | years after breaking up with steve eddie writes him a letter and they talk, mentions of drug abuse and rehab, starting over, 2nd chances (it's hopeful but it's kinda really sad)

knightmærs Eddie POV, prince!steve, traitor!eddie, lovers to enemies who are still lovers but it's intrigue, brainwashing, torture, eddie whump, manipulation, open ending, violence & threats of death

🌷 smut(ish)

steve wants to hear eddie Eddie POV, established relationship, anal sex

sexytimes in a tent Steve POV, trying not to get caught, established relationship, hand jobs

sub!kas eddie (drabble) (tag for more) Steve POV, good boy kas, soft dom steve

school reunion sex Eddie POV, chubby!steve, dom-ish top steve, belly kink, light degradation kink, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, reunion sex, good boy eddie

misc. & gen

steve and nancy finally have A Talk Steve POV, apologies, communicating like adults, making up, platonic stancy

steve and mike coming out to each other (ao3) Steve POV, bisexual lighting, established background steddie, mike & steve sibling relationship

why'd you jump? (ao3) conversation at the quarry, coming out (kinda), working through trauma together, steve & mike sibling relationship, big brother Steve | cw: could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

a study in grief: steve and mike talking about barb (ao3) Steve POV, Barb's death anniversary, Barb was Mike's friend, grief, mourning, big brother Steve, Mike character study

stobin arsonist tendencies (drabble) Steve POV, robin wants to burn down steve's car and house, fucked up platonic besties, neurodivergent swag

🌷 i'll try-verse (time travel au) oneshots

steve takes el to see her first meteor shower

el calls steve magic

eddie finds nonverbal steve

tina's party steddie hug

steve meets wayne

clarkson fics

meet-sweet | kids duty (ao3) clarkson origin post with @unclewaynemunson. Wayne POV, first meeting, slow burn, pre-relationship, soft

coursework, caffeine and cuddles (ao3) teacher student!steve, domestic fluff, established clarkson & steddie, found family

if i fell in love with you (ao3) Scott POV, soft, established relationship, domestic fluff, If I Fell

home. (ao3) Scott POV, comfort, floaty, established relationship, after-school car ride, domesticity

quiet. (ao3) Scott POV, hurt/comfort, domesticity, established relationship, wayne doesn’t like how quiet scott’s house gets

don’t let go (i won’t) (ao3) Scott POV, hurt/comfort, found family, post-s4, shared trauma, steddie, established relationship, wayne gets a bad flashback and scott calls steddie for help

ronance fics

snow angels for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six winter fic challenge, Nancy POV, pining, first kiss, getting together

yearning hours (ao3) Nancy POV, pining, yearning, realisations, pre-relationship, semi-floaty

#steddie #clarkson #flowercrowngods masterlist #masterlist #all my fics are just vibes tbh #there are some misc ficlets in the writing tag still but eh these are the ones i think are okay

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kennahjune · 5 months

Text

OOOOO

Hello Hi Yes

I’ve only seen this done once before but I seriously wanna put my own twist on it.

Steve, Tommy, Eddie and Billy who all get stuck in the school post s3 pre s4 after being cornered by a demogorgan and not having anywhere else to go.

But like— the twist; there’s no Billy (he’s dead, sorry) and it’s Corroded Coffin instead. Yes Tommy’s still there because I crave Stommy friendship.

So they’re all caught up at the high school after school for one thing or another, and they all end up meeting in front of the front office while trying to leave but then Tommy and Eddie get into an argument over something dumb and then a demogorgan hits and Steve’s like in charge and shit idk.

And there’s a part where Eddie’s like “THATS NOT WHAT A DEMOGORGAN IS!” and Steve is like “I DONT FUCKING CARE BCAUSE EITHER WAY ITS GONNA BITE YOUR FUCKING FAVE OFF”

And there’s another part I really wanna write where Tommy is panicking really bad to the point of a full blown panic attack and Steve is like “I’ve got this” and calms him down as easy as spelling his name.

And another part where Steve gets a really bad cut or smth on his leg and Eddie and Tommy have to physically hold his ass down to get him to cooperate.

There’s much gay tension, obviously.

And Eddie and Tommy bickering. Lots of that.

And then there’s this one part where Steve finally gets his walkie to work (cause it wasn’t before for some reason) and he calls role call and Eddie and CC are like “HENDERSON? WHEELER?? SINCLAIR???”

Idk man, I just need Stommy redemption, Eddie and Tommy bickering, and Steddie getting together under fucked up circumstances. Also CC interacting with Tommy and Steve in a positive light is such a funny thought to me idk why.

But yeah that’s it. Might write it, might not. Idk yet but it’s def out there now.

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foreverrogers · 2 years

Text

parallel suns (1/4)

part one // part two // part three // part four

Pairing: steve harrington x f!buckley!reader

Summary: it's summer break, and you need something, or someone, to fill the time with before you go back to college.

Warnings: smut!!!! 18+!!!!! minors please DNI!!!!! friends with benefits, protected sex, oral (f receiving), steve is an adorably charming idiot. post-s3, pre-s4. no s4 spoilers!!

Words: 7.4k (!!!)

A/N: this fic came to me in a vision and i'm in love with it. big shout out to my notes app where i compulsively wrote 1.2k of this at 10pm. also shout out to the song partner in crime by lucy dacus because i am, once again, on my indie song title bullshit

request something! masterlist // series masterlist

Everything is sticky.

The humidity shimmers in the air like it's about to take corporeal form, and even with every AC unit in this Family Video on full blast, everything is utterly, disgustingly sticky.

It's one of the many things Steve hates about Summer. That, and school being on break means the store is always full of children, who are sticky all year round and only get stickier in the Summer, and teenagers, who embody the kind of sticky that tries to sneak into the adult section when they think no one is looking.

It's eight pm, the unforgiving sun just starting to glow yellow and orange at the horizon, and it's about the time Steve lets Robin go home so he can close up for nine.

He doesn't question it when she doesn't bolt out of the store on the hour like she normally does, desperate to go home even if she did prefer Steve's company over most others.

There's a slight jingle of the bell as the front door opens, but Steve is too busy taking his 10-minute break sitting on the floor behind the counter to get up, legs stretched end to end.

Somebody's above him, all of a sudden, announced by two sharp knocks against the counter, and when Steve looks up the backlight of the setting sun makes him think he's seeing an angel. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Robin mutters, hops off her stool and dips down to yank at the backpack sitting at her feet. "Bye, Steve!"

"Woah, woah, woah," Steve starts, so disorientated by the speed of everything that Robin's already slipped behind the counter before he's even thinking of standing up. Steve scrambles to his feet so quickly he almost slips on the linoleum. "Hey, Rob, you're not gonna introduce us?"

You've already taken a step back, and Steve's words stop Robin in her hurried tracks with a sigh. She looks between you, exaggerated turns in each direction, and sighs again. "Steve, this is my sister," She explains, matter of fact, not offering any other information than strictly necessary.

"You never told me you had a sister."

"You didn't?" You ask immediately, faux offense pinching your eyebrows as you look at her. You nudge her in the ankle with the toe of your boot. "Rude."

"Well," Robin starts, pointed as she looks at him. "You clearly don't ask about me as much as you talk about yourself, Steve."

"Hey, I do not- Don't listen to her," Steve cuts Robin to the side, turns to you with an outstretched hand and his cookie-cutter charming smile. It's a perfected art form you don't seem to buy. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington."

"Seems like I've heard a lot more about you than you've heard about me, Steve," You smile, lean forward to shake his hand.

Steve thinks he likes the way you say his name. He also thinks your hand in his is warm, but the nice, soft kind of warm, and not the sticky Summer kind of warm he's gotten used to. He also hopes his hand isn't sticky. "All good things, I hope?"

You hum as you pull away, tilt your head to the side and narrow your eyes, your expression questioning. "Like 60%?"

"Okay, well, this has been nice, but we really have to go," Robin interrupts, looks to you then to Steve and gives him a single nod before she's gone, tugging at your wrist and pulling you with her.

"It was nice to meet you!" You call, turn a little to wave as your sister drags you through the door and into the carpark.

Steve's still not convinced you're not an angel, and spends so long staring after you that it takes him a couple minutes to realise you had never told him your name.

-----

Tonight is a different type of sticky. The type that only happens when it rains all day and the moisture hangs oppressively heavy, like you could drown where you stood if you weren't careful.

Which is why Steve can't be blamed for spending most of his free time standing in front of the huge air conditioner in the back room, letting the cool air bellow out his polo and his vest until he's almost too cold. It's a pretty good plan, except for the fact he can't be stationed at the counter waiting for beautiful women to walk into the store like he normally is.

When Steve emerges from the back room, there's a beautiful woman in the store.

Not that he can tell she's beautiful by the back of her head poking through the aisles of the romance section, it's just that he has a feeling... and it's been a couple weeks since he's been on a good date.

So, as always, Steve stands behind the counter and runs a hand through his hair, tussled and unruly by the effects of the fan, uses the darkened monitor of the computer as a mirror as he adjusts the sit of his collar and smoothes down his Family Video vest. It's the exact shade of dark puke green that always seemed to be a hit with the ladies.

He makes a 90-degree turn, back to the front of the shop, and all of a sudden there you are.

Steve gapes a little, turns left and then right and realises you're the only other person in the store. Oh.

"Hey!"

You're grinning now, too. Which doesn't help. "Hey to you, too."

"Did you, uh-" Steve clears his throat, walks towards you and slides the tape you've set on the counter towards him, pointedly ignores the fact you had just watched him check himself out in a computer monitor for any excruciating amount of time. "Did you find everything you need?"

"Just that, I think," You chuckle, still fighting back your smile as you cross your arms and lean them against the counter.

"16 Candles?" Steve asks, finally actually reading the cover of the film in his hands.

Your smile softens, a little fonder. "Yeah, Rob and I watched it like a million times the year it came out. I thought it would be a nice surprise."

"Really?" He asks, disbelief in his smile and the light pinch of his eyebrows. "Robin? 16 Candles?"

"I don't know what to tell you," You shrug, give a light shake of your head. "Everyone's got a guilty pleasure, her's is romance movies... And if you ever tell her I told you that I will make your life a living hell."

Steve thinks he's already experienced multiple living hells, but is still intrigued about what your could come up with. "Scouts honour," He offers, holds up the palm of one hand and presses the copy of 16 Candles to his heart with the other.

It makes you laugh, and Steve has to smile at the sight before he can remember he's supposed to be doing his job. You really might be an angel.

"And the name the account's under?" He asks, thinks he's smooth and is immediately told otherwise by the way you narrow amused eyes at him, the tug of a smile at the corner of your lips.

"Robin really didn't mention me at all, huh?"

"I really don't talk about myself that often, I promise."

You chuckle lightly, smile bright, eyes bright, makes the neon lights pooling in splotches of wet concrete outside look dim.

You're smile fades a little as the seconds go on, as you hold each other's eyes and Steve really hopes he's not staring right now because his face and his brain have lost all connection.

"Y/n," You offer, simply, and Steve was definitely staring because it takes him a moment to register that the sound that came out of your mouth had been your name.

"Y/n, right," He says, snaps himself out of it, maybe a little too animated in the way he shakes his head if the laugh you give him as he looks down is any indication.

Steve bites his lip as he clacks the letters of your name into the heavy keyboard, intensely concentrated. It's adorable, objectively, and you try not to let it pull anything too world-shattering from your gut into the base of your throat. You swallow it down when he meets your eyes again. "Last name?"

You grin at him immediately, simply raise your eyebrows and wait the few moments it takes him to realise what he's saying, tilts his head to the side with a tight smile as he moves to type in the rest of your name. "Right."

"What do I owe you?" You ask, lean a little closer against the counter, close enough that he can smell the sweet floral of your perfume or your shampoo or both.

"On the house."

"Really?" You start, raise your eyebrows at him. "Thank you... Do all the friends and family get discounts?"

"Just the pretty ones," Steve says, mouth and maybe libido moving too quickly for his brain to catch, words spilling and falling flat on the counter between you.

You're smiling again, gleeful surprise as much towards his admittance as the deep blush that rushes into his face as he realises exactly what he's said.

"I mean-"

"Nuh-uh, can't take it back now," You tease, sliding the tape off of the counter towards you and taking a slow step backwards. He's still mouthing at words to say, and so you take the opportunity to turn and start out of the store. You hold the tape up in the air beside you. "Thank you for the movie, Steve!"

-----

"Hey, why did you never mention me to Steve?"

You're in the middle of 16 Candles. Admittedly, it's not the best time to ask your sister about anything tangible, but something about the cheesy teen romance couldn't let you stop thinking about it. It takes her a few moments to answer, and you're about to repeat yourself when she gives back the uninterested "Why would I?"

"I don't know, the way you were talking about him it sounded like you two were basically best friends... Seems like pretty standard information to know about your best friend."

She shoves a messy fist full of popcorn in her mouth before answering. "It just never came up I guess."

"Right..." Robin still hasn't turned away from the movie, and you still haven't turned back, eyes narrowed at her profile. "So you told him you were a lesbian before you told him you had a sister?"

"Jesus Christ, y/n, fine!" Robin dramatically bends at the waist, reaches over to the coffee table for the remote and pause the movie. "He's a womanizer, okay? I knew that if I told him I had a sister, especially one who was basically the same age as him, he would never let it go and inevitably try to hit on you when you came to visit."

You scoff. "Hate to break it to you, babe, but him not knowing I exist has definitely not stopped him from hitting on me."

Robin's silent for a long moment, gapes at you in the dim light, and you think you can physically see the steam pouring out of her ears as her blood boils. "Y/n."

"What?"

"What did he say to you?"

"What, seriously?" You shake your head, turn back to the paused television screen in a sudden desire to no longer be having this conversation. "It was nothing bad, perfectly kosher. You should have seen the way he was blushing, though. Are you sure that guy gets around as much as you think he does?"

"He tells me about most of them in excruciating detail, so, you know, yeah." You feel her shift back towards the TV, pick up the remote at her side with a sigh. "Just don't fall for it, okay?"

You should let it go, because it shouldn't matter, and you shouldn't care. "What, you don't think he's a good guy?" You're looking at her again, trying to read the shadows of her expression. "You wouldn't be friends with him if he wasn't a good guy."

"Look, I say this with no offence to Steve but he's a Hawkins, Indiana good guy. He's not a New York, smartest girl in her class type of good guy."

You consider it for a moment, clench your jaw as you slide down the couch so you can only just see the screen over your bent knees. "It sounds like you're trying to say he's a 'literally anybody but you' kind of good guy."

"Yeah," Robin smiles, voice warm. "Glad we're on the same page."

-----

You think that maybe being told not to give in to Steve Harrington's fumbled, boyish charm just makes you want a taste even more.

Not that you went out of your way to do the things Robin told you not to, nor were you typically the type of person who wanted what they couldn't have. It's just that you had spent so long trying to be good, trying to get the best grades and get into the best schools and be the best adult, that now, during a Summer that should be inconsequential to the course of your life, you want to try something new. That, and every word and lingering glance you had received from him over the past couple of days had practically screamed how much he wanted you, and it was hard to deny that it was exhilarating.

No matter the way you try to reason it, nothing changes the fact that you're in an empty Family Video at 9am.

It's early enough that when Steve sees you pushing open the door he thinks he might still be dreaming. "Oh, y/n, hey! Hey, how are you?" Steve runs a loose hand through his hair, adjusts his position leaning against the counter a couple too many times to be natural. He flinches, hopes you don't register his fumbling. You definitely do. "Uh, Robin's not working today."

"Yeah, I know," You smile, innocent and polite, move to lean beside him on the counter with your forearms against the cool acrylic. You pick at your nails for a moment before turning towards him, but you realise as soon as you do that you've undershot your position a little, faces are a lot closer than you had intended. Still, you don't back away. "I'm here to see you."

Steve swallows, throat thick and chest fluttering with the proximity. "You are?" He mutters, doesn't have to say it that loudly for you to hear because you're that damn close. His voice is a little squeakier, too, like his body had suddenly forgotten it had already hit puberty five years earlier. He clears his throat, once again hopes you don't notice. Once again, you do.

"So..." You start, look back down at your nails because even though you had fully psyched yourself up to do this, you hadn't quite realised eye contact would be part of the deal. "I'm sure you know that I'm only in town for the Summer, which means I just so happen to have a lot of free time and also... just so happen to not have a boyfriend..."

Steve thinks he's hallucinating. Thinks that there must be something in the water and his sweating palms and dry mouth and tight chest are all symptoms of something awful. Either that or his mind is infinitely dirtier than he thought, because there was no way in Hell you were actually suggesting what he thinks you're suggesting. "I think I need... a little more."

"Oh, come on, Stevie," You start, tilt your head at him, and the combination of the nickname and the way you're looking up at him through your lashes makes his jeans tighten inexplicably. "You gotta have a couple brain cells knocking around that pretty little head of yours."

Steve pinches himself. Actually, physically pinches his arm to make sure he's not dreaming. He's staring again, and he's also a little speechless, silent for long enough that you start to second guess yourself.

"Unless you don't want-"

"No, no, no. Woah, no, definitely not. I definitely don't... not want to..." His hand is on your wrist before you can pull away, position shifted so he's now standing right in front of you, parallel suns across the counter. "I just, uh, wasn't sure that I was getting the right idea for a second."

"Yeah, I, um-" You look down, your well of confidence seemingly exerted too fast too soon. Your cheeks are hot with it. "Robin made it seem like you were pretty, uh... Loose about this type of stuff."

"She said that?" Steve scoffs, makes you look back up at him and the expression on his face is so genuinely offended it makes you laugh. "I can't believe she would- Wait, did you... tell her? About-"

"No!" You interrupt, eyes wide. "No, absolutely not. And Robin never knows, okay? Ground rule?"

"Yeah, right, of course," He agrees, and he registers suddenly that you're two people standing in the middle of a Family Video first thing in the morning defining the terms of casual sex.

"Not so much because she would get mad at me, but because I genuinely think she might cut your dick off."

Steve laughs, does that thing where he tilts his head to the side in a nod that's annoyingly endearing. "Yeah, I could see her trying."

You're both smiling, and you're both so close, his hand on your wrist still anchoring you to the counter. You chew at the inside of your lip, try to suppress some of the heat rising to your face. "This is a really weird conversation, right?"

"Possibly the weirdest I've ever had, yeah." And Steve has had a lot of fucking bonkers conversations.

There's a glint of light across your lipgloss as your smile widens, fresh and sticky and shining and all of a sudden Steve realises you wore it for him, and then all of a sudden wants to know what it tastes like.

You lean forward slowly, like you can read his mind or maybe you're just thinking the same thoughts, the curve of your lips deliciously tempting. "Steve."

"Yeah?" He asks, less of a word and more of a pitched exhale. He thinks he can feel your breath against his skin.

"You have customers."

You pull away, stand up straight just as the front bell rings and a gaggle of children storm into the store, followed begrudgingly by the slow steps of two exhausted looking parents. Steve pulls away, too, clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure as he offers a tight smile to the two adults.

You're grinning, annoyingly and yet endearingly triumphant.

"That was mean."

"No idea what you're talking about," You start, shake your head with a shrug and a step away from the counter. You try to bite back your smile, bottom lip lightly pulled between your teeth. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Oh, you know." Steve gestures around the store, attention immediately pulled to a crashing sound somewhere to his side, like piles of hard plastic falling to the floor.

"You should go do your job," You tease, nod towards the source of the noise and make Steve narrow his eyes at you. "And I will be back at nine."

-----

True to your word, by the time nine pm rolls around you're already leaning against the hood of his car, watching carefully as he locks the door to the darkened Family Video.

You've changed, a light skirt that sits just below the knee to match the humid Summer night. Steve's first thought is accessible, and he immediately scolds himself for it.

"Hey," You smile, voice sickly smooth, sticky and seeping into his bones.

"Hey." He returns, finds it a little less graceful than yours because he's nervous, the kind of nervous that would probably make his chest shake if he stood still for too long. He doesn't think he's been this nervous around a girl since he first got together with Nancy.

"Fun rest of your shift?" You ask, even though you have a pretty good idea of what he might say, kick off the car and make a slow start towards him.

"A painful one, thanks to you."

The admittance makes you smile, too smug and too pretty as you look up at him, height difference exaggerated as you meet him at the curb. He tries not to look at your lips, but your lipgloss is fresh, and he still wants to know what it tastes like.

"My place or yours?"

"Are your parents home?"

Steve scoffs, a little offended. "What makes you think I live with my parents?"

"Oh," You start, eyes widening with something like surprise, embarrassment, maybe a little bit of both. "Do you... not live with your parents?"

"No, I absolutely live with my parents. And no, they're not home, by the way. I think I just resent the implication that-"

"Oh my god," You turn, walk towards the passenger side of his car with a shake of your head. You stand with a grasp on the handle, waiting for him to follow. "If you still wanna get laid tonight you better get in the freaking car, idiot."

"Wow," Steves says, keeps playing his mock offence but starts towards the car anyway. He digs his hand into his pocket in search of his keys. "I guess there's just something about you Buckleys and being mean to me."

You swing the door open as soon as it's unlocked, fall in with enough force to make the vehicle bounce lightly on its wheels. "Car, Steve!"

-----

You've made it this far without any hiccups. Without any bad omens descending from the heavens as a sign that this was all a bad idea.

If anything it felt too good to be true, a ridiculously handsome, charming boy with a genuine interest in you, complete with a mega fancy house and parents who were never in town. Then there was the tiny fact that he was your sister's best friend, but you tried not to think about that one too hard.

"What do we do now?"

Steve's moving to sit beside you at the foot of his bed, soft notes of music drifting from his cassette player slowly filling the background.

You smile at him, at the earnestness in his voice and the wide, open hope in his expression. It makes your chest ache so much you have to change the subject.

"Before anything, I just wanted to say..." You adjust your position, angle yourself to better face him. Steve looks terrified of what you're next move is, and it almost makes you laugh. "I don't know what you did to make Robin trust you enough to tell you... you know... But I just thought I would tell you that I appreciate it. I was really worried at first, about leaving her for so long with nobody else who really, actually knew her... It's just nice to know there's someone watching her back."

Steve wasn't exactly sure what he thought you were going to say, but it certainly wasn't that. It's a gesture that warms him through, not that he would ever admit that to Robin. "Yeah, no, of course. Thank you."

You offer him a gentle smile, nodding lightly as you lean back against your palms. You sigh like you're almost reluctant to keep going. "You're a pretty cool dude, Steve."

"I know," He says, response immediate, does that tilt thing again and proceeds to give you the smuggest smirk you've ever seen. "But thank you for reminding me."

"Oh, shut up," You mutter, nudge him lightly in the knee with your own and roll your eyes, can't help the smile that blooms across your face as he leans towards you.

"What?" He asks, accusatory, smiling, so close you can feel the fan of his warm breath against your skin. "I was agreeing with you."

"Steve," You say, try and almost succeed at pulling a serious face.

He's looking at your lips again, doesn't meet your eyes as he continues. "Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

Strawberry. That's the first thought Steve has when you kiss him, impossibly soft lips moving against his, turning his brain to fuzz in an instant.

It's all instinct from that point on, when he slots one hand around your waist and brings the other beneath your ear, thumb brushing against your cheek and opening you up for him.

"What?" You laugh, breathe it between sweet, sticky kisses.

"What?"

"You said something, I couldn't hear you."

Steve is only half paying attention, too busy pressing you back until your back hits the mattress. Oh.

"Strawberry," He repeats, hadn't realised he had said it out loud the first time. "Your lip gloss. It tastes like strawberry."

"That's what you're thinking about right now?" You're grinning at him, smile too wide to keep kissing and so Steve takes the opportunity to trail along your jaw, dips down to follow the column of your throat until he hears you sigh.

"It's not the only thing I'm thinking about," He mutters, presses curved lips to the crook of your neck and focuses on the spot.

Your breath is coming out a little heavier, your fingers tangling into his hair as he continues the gentle assault on your neck, but you try to keep up. "Care to share with the class?"

"Well," Steve starts, hands wandering downward to start to bunch up the bottom of your shirt. "I'm thinking about taking this off, for one."

Your position at the foot of your bed is a little awkward to manoeuvre, so Steve takes the opportunity to slowly stand over you, plants one last sloppy kiss to the dip of your throat before he's on his knees.

It makes you gasp, the sudden shift and the sight of him between your legs as he kisses the soft flesh of your stomach he's exposed. "I'm thinking about how fucking warm you are, and how soft your skin is." He leans back, moves to sit on his heels and brings one of your knees up to sit over his shoulder. The position makes the light fabric of your skirt fall back, bunches at the top of your thighs and leaves the cotton of your panties just hidden from his line of sight. He kisses the inside of your knee, one strong hand grasping the outside of your thigh, doesn't tear his eyes away from yours the entire time. "And I'm thinking about what other parts of you must taste like."

"Jesus Christ," You mutter, fall back against the mattress and look up at the ceiling because this might just be the best stupid decision you've ever made.

Steve chuckles, a deep reverberation that sends aftershocks through your body where his lips are still connected to your skin. "Are you gonna let me find out, sweetheart?"

"Jesus Christ," You say again, because what else are you supposed to say to something like that. You press up on your elbows, look down to see Steve already smiling at you, still annoyingly smug. "You can't just go around saying shit like that."

"Is that a yes?" He asks, and if there was any doubt in your mind all would be resolved by the feeling of his hand snaking under your skirt, fingers slipping just under the hem of your underwear.

"Please, yes. Fuck."

In any normal circumstance, you might register the fact that the two of you are still fully clothed, at the very least take off your shirts before you let another person take off your underwear. But this wasn't just any normal circumstance, and in that moment any force that could delay the feeling of his mouth on your cunt was sorely unwelcome.

Steve makes it slow, draws it out for as torturously long as he can before you're starting to squirm beneath him. He leans back, just so he can start to tug your panties down your legs, goosebumps rising at every tiny point of contact until the flimsy fabric has slipped to the floor.

Steve doesn't think he'll ever get over the way you say his name, not when he's heard it like this, the heady whine of it he earns with the first contact of his mouth on your clit.

Your hand is in his hair immediately, fingers threading through the thick strands and pressing him closer toward you, needing everything closer, craving everything impossibly closer than you could get it.

The tug isn't purposefully, simply another involuntary response your body gives at the feeling of him sucking your clit between his lips, along with your gasp and the arch of your back and the flex of your thighs. It does, however, pull something guttural out of his throat, the hum of it pressed against you sending a sharp shock of pleasure up your spine.

You say his name again, choked and frayed as it escapes through ragged breaths.

Steve pulls away, cruelly, awfully, leaves you hot and aching as he presses slick lips to the inside of your thigh. He kisses along, down, back up again, leaves behind quick little nips you're sure will leave marks tomorrow.

You laugh, a little because it tickles and mostly because you're not sure a guy has ever made you feel this good in your life, and this was only the crescendo.

"It's dangerous laughing at the guy who hasn't made you cum yet..." Another nip, quickly soothed by the warmth of his tongue. "Unless you wanna finish the job by yourself."

It just makes you laugh harder, knees coming up a little to close together and Steve has to tighten his grip to bring them back down. "No, no, no," You start, out of breath for multiple reasons, and when you look down at him he's grinning back at you, inexplicable and bright and beautiful. You comb your hand through his hair and bite your lip, slowly trying to tug him back towards you. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I won't laugh, promise. Just keep going."

Steve hides his smile back against the inside of your thigh, leaves one last mark. "Are you gonna ask nicely? I think it's the least I deserve after-"

"Fine! Fine, Jesus," You laugh, even though you had just promised you wouldn't, take a moment to compose something resembling a serious expression, make your best wide, innocent eyes at him. You give his hair a harsh tug. "Please make me cum, Steve."

And it has been a joke when he said it, but hearing the words come out of your mouth doesn't sound so funny anymore. The only thing hearing them does is make the strain in his pants exponentially tighter and brings his mouth back to you in an instant.

It's harsher, this time, relentless in the movement of his tongue and his lips over your clit. This time there's no mercy when it's too much, when you try to squirm and lessen the intensity of it all, the arm hooked around your thigh moving to spread over your pelvis and keep your hips in place as he works at you.

You try not to look at him, think as soon as you do the sight alone might be enough to make the rapidly growing well of heat in the pit of your stomach overflow. You can't help it though, when you feel the pads of his fingers start to tease at your entrance, tests the waters and let's another hum slip through when he finds you already dripping wet.

Your eyes meet his, and Steve gets to watch the look on your face as he presses two fingers into the sopping heat.

Steve wants that face burned into the inside of his retinas, wants to see it every time he closes his eyes and relive the feeling of your cunt clenching around his fingers. Your entire body is wound tight, he can feel it in his hand still spread over your hip and the flex of your thighs, sees it clear as day in the contortion of your face, and every point of tension is heightened tenfold when he starts to curl those fingers inside you.

You say his name again, different this time, pleading and needy and you want to let go so bad. Want to dispel all this energy into the universe and feel the waves of it drown you, crave the relief of that first deep breath of bliss that fills your lungs.

"I've got you, baby," Steve mutters, like he can read your mind or maybe he's just good at reading the cues, nods the best he can while still pressed against you when you look at him.

It snaps, like being cut loose, doesn't take much more of his mouth and fingers to have you falling and falling and falling.

That. That way you say his name. He's not sure you'll be able to top that.

Your hand slips out of his hair, meets your other one as you stretch out against the mattress with a sigh, a slow shiver creeping up your spine. "Jesus fucking Christ." You close your eyes and you laugh, because it's the only response you find fit enough for that.

"Now, what's funny?"

There's a mess against your thigh when Steve pulls his fingers away, slick and saliva melting on your skin as he slowly moves to crawl back up your body.

You open your eyes as soon as you feel his face hovering over yours, grinning and sloppy and hazy. You don't answer, say enough in the way you kiss him and wrap your arms tightly around his neck, welcome the taste of yourself on his tongue and the harsh squeeze he gives to your hip. "God, you're so fucking pretty."

You smile, catch him in another quick kiss, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull back away. "Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing." And it's true, because his hair is a mess and his face is flushed and you don't think anyone has ever been prettier.

"You think I'm pretty?" He asks, smug again, dips down to kiss the peak of your jaw.

"Like you haven't been called a pretty boy your whole life, pretty boy."

Steve gives you a lopsided grin and somehow becomes prettier. "And I never get sick of hearing it."

Steve kisses you, presses his smile to yours and waits until you're lucid enough to kiss him back. It's softer, for a little while, gentle in the way he cups your cheek and soothes the skin there with his thumb. It's you who deepens it, chases it as you bring your hand to the hem of his shirt. "Too many clothes."

You're right, of course; the two of you are still entirely clothed save for your underwear, a sore fact that Steve immediately moves to rectify, tugs his own shirt off and starts on the buttons of your blouse before you even register it.

"Careful, Jesus," You giggle, worried he might break a button, but even that's short-lived by the hasty urgency with which he takes off your shirt.

You have to sit up to let him slip the fabric down your arms, and as soon as you do he kisses you again, mumbles something unintelligible against your lips before his hands are at your waist and pushing you up the bed. "That's better."

You gape at him, not that he notices, too busy with looking down to work at the button of his jeans and kick them off.

He freezes when he meets your eyes again, reads the expression on your face. "What?"

"I can't believe I just got manhandled by Steve 'the hair' Harrington."

Steve sighs, dips his head into your neck so you can't see the deep blush that only exacerbates the condition of his face. "She told you about that?" He asks, muffled, oozing embarrassment, and it makes you laugh again.

"She absolutely did."

Steve nips at the crook of your neck, makes you gasp, and you're about to keep teasing him when he brings his face back to yours. "Let's change the subject?"

"To what?" You ask, smiling, tilt your chin up at him.

"To how perfect your boobs are and how much I want to fuck you right now."

You hum against him when he kisses you, effectively shutting you up as he takes a handful of your clothed breast and squeezes. His other hand slides up the outside of your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist, and with how close he's pressing against you you can feel just how hard he is. "A gentleman."

Steve smiles, presses one last heated kiss to your lips before he's leaning over you, dragging open the top drawer of his bedside table.

You take the opportunity to watch him, take in the solid, carved muscle of his stomach, the mass of dark chest hair, the flex of his bicep as he reaches for the small foil packet.

You want to touch him, and then you realise that you can, kiss him hard as soon as you can, hands slipping around the side of his waist to pull him in before gliding down his front.

The first inch of your fingers under the hem of his boxers makes him gasp, nodding when your eyes search his, asking for permission to dip further.

"Fuck," He mutters, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and has to shake the fog in his brain loose, looks down to where he can just see the slow twist of your hand in his boxers. "You ready?"

You take the cue, remove your hand and mutter a quiet, "Yeah," before he's kissing you, kisses you and kisses you as he kicks off his boxers and moves to slip on the condom.

Steve pumps himself in his hand once, twice, four times, and then he's lining himself up with you, tip only just kissing your entrance. "I'll be gentle, yeah?"

You smile at him, shake your head into another kiss. "You don't have to be gentle with me, Steve."

He looks at you, mouth slack, and you have to nod to reassure him, a gentle squeeze at his waist to spur him on.

There's a slur of muffled, breathy profanities as Steve sinks into you, so slowly fills you up, makes you feel each tiny stretch of your walls around his cock.

You're both breathing the same hot, heavy air, open mouths slotted over the other, and the feeling of him finally pressed in to the hilt makes you both sigh. "Can I move?"

"Please," You breathe, and it's all Steve needs to start slowly pulling back, only makes it about halfway before he's pushing back in.

It's enough to knock the breath out of your lungs, regardless, the fullness of it all immeasurably more intense than you had prepared for. Steve's head is buried in your neck, pulls a little further out with the next movement of his hips, drives in with a little extra force.

"Faster, please, baby," You whine, needy and impatient and unashamed. The words make his grip on your thigh tighten, and he does what you ask, kisses down your neck and along your collar bone and peppers you in more tiny marks as picks up his movements.

It makes you moan, deep and echoing around the room and suddenly you don't know what you would have done if his parents had been home, or if you had had to sneak him into your place, don't think you could keep all this energy inside you without exploding.

"So big," You sigh, can't help the breaths and whimpers that catch in the back of your throat as his hips get even faster, chasing that same white-hot friction. "Feels so good, Steve. So- Fuck."

Your head presses back into the pillow, one arm coming up to wrap around his torso and dig your nails into his back. "Oh, fuck, there you go," He mutters, feels the sudden clench of you around him and thinks he might be done for, now and forever and until the next time you let him feel you like this again. "Can't believe how fucking tight you are, baby. So perfect."

Steve pulls his face back, dips his head to look at the place your bodies are connected, at the place you're swallowing him up and dripping onto his bed sheets and knows immediately it was a mistake, feels the shiver of pleasure it spreads throughout his body almost make him tremble.

But Steve's a gentleman, even if the brief manhandling may have told you otherwise, and he would be damned if he was gonna let himself cum before you.

He's not quite sure how you keep coming up with new ways to say his name, but the sound that slips out of you mouth when his thumb meets your clit is certainly new, only gets through the first couple of letters before melting into a low moan. You clench around him again, fluttering and velvet hot, and it makes Steve quicken the circling of his thumb, looking up to watch your face pinch with it.

"Are you gonna be good and cum for me, honey?"

"Holy fuck," You whine, don't miss a beat, open your eyes to already find him looking at you intensely, jaw slack and eyebrows loosely knit together, concentration and pleasure overwhelming his features. "Need it harder, baby. Wanna cum for you."

"Need it harder?" He repeats, doesn't wait for your answer for the next drive of his hips to be harsher, deeper, hits that spot inside you so well it almost makes you scream. "Need it rough? Like- Oh, fuck, I can feel you."

Steve can apparently tell you're about to cum sooner than you can, because all at once everything it too much, hits you so fast and so hard you don't even have time to warn him before you're coming apart around his cock.

And thank God, too, because Steve was already about to lose it, thumb on your clit working you through your orgasm as he stills inside you, moans into your mouth with a rough kiss.

Your legs are shaking, trembling in his touch and Steve registers the rush in his ears, high-pitched and muffling your shared pants into white noise.

Steve is now indubitably certain you're an angel.

-----

"You can drop me off at the end of the road, just in case Robin's still awake."

"Oh, right. Sure." He seems unsure, a little distant, and after the last couple hours, it makes your heart sink.

You turn to Steve, in the darkness, watching the street lights paint shadows through the angles of his face, his brow and his nose and his jaw. He's prettier than you think you'll ever admit, prettier than you could ever make him understand. "You're cool with this, right? Because nothing else has to happen if you're not."

"No, I'm cool with it. Totally cool, just like you said, I'm a cool guy." Steve smiles, and you smile at him, meet his eyes as soon as he's rolled the car to a stop at the bottom of your street.

"Cool."

You lean across the centre console and press a quick kiss to his cheek, feel the heat beneath your lips and know he's more flushed than the dim light is letting on.

You don't really pull away when you pull away, hover a couple inches away from his face as he turns towards you. Something pointy and solid is digging into your ribs, but you don't really care.

Steve kisses you, moulds you to him the same way he had in his room not so long before. His hand is on your cheek and his tongue is in your mouth and everything is hot. Too, too hot.

"Good night, Steve," You whisper, lips still brushing his because you're giving him another chaste kiss as soon as you say it.

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You finally settle back into your side of the car, and all at once you're gone so fast Steve's own "Good night" hangs empty in the air.

part two

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