#she gets nancy in the end though

[wizrizz]

robin buckley listens to jessie’s girl while watching nancy and steve suck eachother’s face in the school hallway and then she listens to it while watching nancy and jonathan eat lunch on his car and then she doesn’t need to listen to it anymore bc nancy falls in love with her after vecna’s dead and they get married with three cats and live happily ever after.

[pencil-n-pen]

I WANT AN INNOCENT LOVE

.☘︎ ݁˖

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alexandria! rick grimes x fawn! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: you’re a new addition to alexandria. Rick’s just looking out for his group. That’s the only reason he finds himself drawn to you. Nothing else.

cw: LEGAL age gap (it is big, i imagine reader in her early 20s) canon typical depictions of violence, Rick is kinda mean to reader at first, Rick kind of struggles with the age gap a little, dom! Rick, slight possessive rick

tags/tropes: shy and skittish reader, she’s not used to dealing with people but she’s not helpless, honestly she’s just a sweet and soft person who became what everyone becomes in the apocalypse, hurt/comfort, insecurity, touch-starved reader a bit, YEARNING, no saviors or whisperers just Rick and everyone living happily in alexandria. Daryl is also here and he’s kind of like ur uncle bc i love daryl and i say so

a/n: i have nothing to say other than this is so insanely self indulgent it’s not even funny. nobody asked for this but writing it has kept me sane while i’m couch ridden. everything is terrible rn but rick grimes <3333

songs i listened to while writing: We'll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross, Work Song by Hozier (Rick's theme song) you were mine by Esha Tewari, Do I Wanna Know- Hozier's Cover, Somethin' Stupid by Nancy & Frank Cinatra, Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley (i'm so not normal about that entire album) Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers, Little Bit by Lykke Li (the original not the remix)

title taken from Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers

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₊ ⊹❀

You were just a little thing when you showed up at the gates.

All wide-eyed and skittish at the tree-line, clothes hanging awkwardly off your frame. Scuffed and dirty, when Rick goes up to the tower to scout you out.

You don’t quite come close enough for anyone to get any kind of information on you. Name, age, where you’ve been, what you’re doing at the gates.

These are all questions Rick, as leader, needs answers to.

If he could just convince you to get close enough.

Under different circumstances, he’d just let you do whatever it is you’re planning on doing, but the lurking is starting to make people uneasy. And he figured he ought to do something to ease their concerns. Easiest way is to either get you inside the walls or find answers to those questions.

You’re real good at staying out of reach, though. And you never stay in one place for long. By the time two weeks have gone by, you’ve made it around the entire length of the walls. Just to end up right where you started: the gates.

It’s just past the crack of dawn- dew is still lingering on the plants and grass and the sun’s rays have yet to actually provide warmth. Rick is up, making his rounds and checking in when one of the guards on rotation lets him know that you’re at the gates. Only time you’ve ever been that close.

So they’re opened, and you amble in— light-footed and unsure. Honestly, you remind him a bit of Daryl with your obvious hesitance to be in the company of other people and clear inclination towards nature. But where Daryl is hard edges and reclusiveness, you’re… softer.

A small group of people —curious onlookers, mostly— forms behind Rick as he saunters towards you, and he watches the moment you see the reality of your decision and begin to regret it.

He comes to a stop a few feet away from you, letting the silence hang in the air for a bit.

He finally takes you in with his own two eyes, without the aid of the binoculars, and he examines. Catalogs the nervous twitch of your hands and scuffs and scrapes he can see on the visible scraps of skin. Eyes the way you worry your lip between your teeth and can’t decide if you’re going to keep staring at him or look away- your mind clearly torn between vigilance and submission.

“You finish your tour of Alexandria?” He asks dryly.

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Are you the leader of this safe-zone?”

He nods. “Sure am.”

You begin fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. The small motion draws his attention back to your hands, where me notices bandaids practically covering the entire surface of your skin. He files the information away in his head for later.

“Are you currently accepting new members?”

He can’t help but crack a smile at your question. The way you phrase it and your nervous demeanor remind him so much of the times before the dead started walking— you look like a college student looking for a job, not somebody trying to find refuge here, after the end of the world.

“Depends,” He rests his hands on his hips, and he notes the way your eyes dart to the gun at his side before back up to him, “You got any skills to offer? You alone? Or do you got a group waitin’ for you?”

Your lip is raw from where you release it from your teeth.

“I’m really good at mending. I’m a proficient hunter. I can hold my own in a fight. And I’m alone.”

At the admittance of your lack of company, you shift back a few steps, a subtle re-distribution of weight.

Ain’t been socialized a whole bunch, Rick thinks to himself. He’s willing to bet you either don’t have a lot of positive experiences with large groups of people or you just plain ain’t been around em’ much.

He hums. “You killed anybody?”

“Walkers or live?”

“Either.”

You shift your shoulders. He’s starting to wonder just how many nervous actions you have.

“I don’t think anybody lives alone who hasn’t killed walkers.”

“And the living?”

You don’t move, but your eyes look to the ground, not at him.

Shame. Fear.

“Twice.”

“How come?”

“They wanted my supplies. Wanted me dead. I decided I didn’t want to die.”

He looks you over again. You really are a cute little thing. He thinks, absentmindedly in the back of his head, that something like you shouldn’t have bloody, bandaid covered hands. Shouldn’t have a kill count.

But he dismisses the thought. The end of the world leaves no room for those unwilling to do what’s necessary.

He dips his head. “We’ll get you settled in,” He jerks his head to the some of the guys behind him. “They’ll get you sorted out. Get along, now.”

You slink past him, distance carefully measured as you go.

Your eyes don’t quite leave him, though. There’s a moment- either you pause or his mind slows. Maybe a bit of both. But the air stills, and your gaze locks on him for the first time since he saw you, nestled in that tree line. The memory is clear and vivid- the sun shining through the trees, dappling you in shades of amber and grey. And then he’s here, and you’re looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and the sun has risen just enough that it casts a similar glow, the only difference now he can see up close just how the light catches on your face, just how he knows your features would look so different, so much softer if you were cleaned, if someone minded the cuts and scrapes.

And then you step away, and he snaps out of his reverie. He blinks a few times at your retreating form, shakes his head, and then busy’s himself with other work. There’s always something to be done.

But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the image of you gazing up at him, bathed in the early morning sun out of his mind.

—

A few days pass, and Rick sees little of you. He’s almost positive it’s on purpose. The few times he does see you, you look scared. And then, generally, you manage to make some sort of fleet-footed escape. The repeated spotting and fleeing reminds him of the time he accompanied Daryl on a hunt and startled a doe.

He can’t quite figure out why you’re afraid of him, though. He remembers being fairly decent to you when you arrived, and tried coaxing you towards the gates politely before you’d shown up on your own.

The sight of your scared expression ends up stuck fast in his head, usually super-imposed over the image of you on that morning at the gates. Two different versions of you, neither making any sort of sense.

He decides that it’s probably best that he stick away, if he scares you. You’ll settle, your ruffled feathers’ll smooth.

And he’ll stop thinking about you.

—

Neither do you settle or does he stop thinking about you.

He watches you from a distance, careful. You just… don’t relax. Ever. You creep away from every possible opportunity to connect with others like it might grow jaws and bite- you shrink back or freeze. Like you think if you play dead, if you don’t move, they’ll leave you alone.

He’s wondering what you hoped to accomplish by seeking refuge in Alexandria if this is how you act. You’re going to have a bad go of things if this is your plan. Or maybe you plain haven’t even thought that far.

He snags Daryl’s arm as he passes by.

“Wha—“

“The new girl,” Is all Rick says, still watching you remarkably avoid everyone who passes you. “She’s real skittish.”

Daryl follows his eyeline, finding you easy enough.

“Mm. She ain’t settlin’?”

“No.”

Daryl just hums again. “Well, she ain’t got nobody, does she?”

“So?”

The hunter shrugs. “Can’t relax. Ain’t got nobody to watch her back, take a watch. She’ll settle. Might take her a bit of time.”

Rick huffs. “She’s afraid of me.”

“No she ain’t,” Daryl snorts, “And since when does Rick Grimes care whether other people like him well enough?”

Rick doesn’t respond, just keeps watching you.

Daryl follows Rick’s gaze, then breathes out a low sigh.

“She is a pretty little thing, ain’t she?”

“That is not what this is about.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Sure it’s not.“

“She’s half my age. I could damn well be her father.”

“But ya ain’t.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is the point, Rick?” Daryl sighs again, crossing his arms. “Either do something about it or move on. You got too many people dependin’ on ya for you to be eyeing up flighty young girls.”

Rick rolls his shoulders. “You make me out to be such a creep.”

The other man claps him on the shoulder. “Then stop acting like one.”

He attempts to take Daryl’s advice to heart. It’s an annoying truth that Daryl always knows exactly what Rick needs to hear. Not necessarily what he wants to hear, but what needs to be said.

And he is being creepy. He shakes his head as he walks away. Watching you, thinking about you. He can’t. That’s— you’re too young to be thinking any kind of thing like that.

No matter how there’s this half second, before you look scared, where you almost look relieved. No matter how he wants to personally take care of the bumps and scrapes on your face, wants to take off the bandaids and examine what’s beneath them.

Daryl was right. He needs to focus. Carl, Judith, everyone- they need him.

You’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

—

You’ve gone missing.

Rick has been doing his best to heed Daryl’s advice— he stopped looking for you in the crowds, stopped trying to figure you out, stopped watching you from afar. He even made a fairly decent attempt to stop thinking about you. Not that the effort proves especially fruitful, but he tried, damnit.

All of those efforts go straight out the window when Daryl tells him that no one’s seen you since yesterday.

It takes him two seconds to grab his gun and follow Daryl out the door.

He barely remembers to tell Carl where he’s going, which scares him, because he doesn’t quite understand what’s been so invasive to his mind and day-to-day activities about you. Your eyes, the soft curve of your cheek, how you might feel in his hands.

They cloud his judgment. Make him do stupid reckless things like search Alexandria high and low for any sign of you.

He doesn’t find any. He searches the place you’re staying— nothing. Only sign of life is the unmade bed and bandaid wrappers in the trashcan by the bed.

He sighs deep and low as he stands over your bed. “Think she had enough? High-tailed it?”

Daryl leans against the doorway. “Nah. She likes it here well enough. She ain’t stupid enough to leave a good thing like this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve spoken to her?”

Daryl shrugs. “Few times. She don’t like talkin’ too much, but I think she figures her and I similar.”

“She wrong?”

He scratches his beard. “A little. She fears situations and people the way a prey animal does. S’ why she’s a runner.”

Rick mulls Daryl’s words over as they scan the rest of the place but, of course, find nothing. There are no signs that you, specifically, live here. Nothing personal. Just the unmade bed and the bandaid wrappers in the trashcan.

The pair of them turn the entirety of Alexandria over in a matter of hours. He’s just about to call it quits, either wait for you to come back or send out a search in the morning when Daryl comes back over, telling him you’re at the gates.

As in, outside of them.

Opposite of how things went when you first showed up at the gates, people clear a path as he stalks towards you. They give the pair of you a nice, wide bubble. Even Daryl stays a few feet behind him.

The first thing he notices is that you’re covered in blood. From the way you’re holding yourself, most of it isn’t your own. There’s a backpack slung over your shoulder, but it’s not your usual one.

You won’t meet his eyes.

He stops an arms length away from you. “Where the hell were you?”

You shift backwards, away from him ever so slightly. “Scavenging.”

“Mhm, interestin’,” He says, rubbing his jaw, “Because the last scavenging party was yesterday. And you came back with everybody, so I’ll ask again. Where were you.”

Your eyes flick up from the ground for a moment, eying the people that have gathered to stare. He watches you mentally count them all, then attempt to put more distance between yourself and everybody else. Emphasis on attempt, because the second you take a step back, you stumble, wincing before righting yourself and going right back to scanning the crowd.

He works his jaw, anger and annoyance simmering just under the surface of his skin. He’s not going to get anything out of you here.

He grabs your wrist and turns, set in the direction of the medics.

He drags you along behind him, ignoring the little huffs or sharp intakes of pain when you walk a little too hard or too fast on your bad ankle.

You trip a few times as you go, and when you almost take Rick down with you, he sighs, pausing and turning.

The expression you give him is full of fear. He realizes, in the moment, that you might not remember where the medics are, so as far as you know, he’s angry at you and dragging you to a secluded area.

Guilt strikes him hard and fast, right in his chest.

Damn.

It’s too early to feel guilty about the random girl he allowed into Alexandria. Frightened eyes and shy nature aside.

He shakes his head once. “We’re going to see a doctor. Here, put your arm around me.”

He has to lower himself a little for you to drape your arm across the back of his neck. Your fingertips brush his shoulder, and he can feel the way you’re shaking.

It’s slow going from then on, with Rick acting as your crutches.

“Where were you? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Scavenging.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” You nudge the backpack still strapped to your back. “I was… looking for something. I can’t look for it with the others.”

“What the hell is it that you can’t look for it with the others?”

“A body.”

Your response hangs in the air, thick and heavy.

“…Family or friend?”

“Friend. Haven’t found her yet.”

Something clicks into place in his mental file about you. He feels like he just gained a new piece of the puzzle.

He readjusts your weight over his shoulder, tucking you a little closer and steadfastly pretending he doesn’t hear the little gasp you let out at the contact. Whether it was from pain or surprise, he can’t let himself think about it.

“Don’t go out by yourself. If you need to look, take Daryl with you.”

You sag a bit into him. “Okay.”

He glances down at you from the corner of his eye. You’re… pliant. You’d agreed quickly, and showed absolutely no fight or unwillingness when he, admittedly, manhandled you. You’d followed dutifully behind him and then simply allowed him to position your arms the way he wanted them.

There’s another little parasite that burrows into his brain right there. Right as he’s got you in his grip.

He slows to a stop, a little question forming in his head. He slips the arm that had been wrapped around your waist away, instead curls his fingers across your chin and jaw. He tilts your head up, looks down at your face, searching it for… something.

He meets no resistance. You only stare up at him, doe eyes blinking. He tilts your head to the left, then to right, and still, nothing.

Huh.

He lets go, and you shudder, a full body shiver. And he thinks, in this moment, that he could do whatever he wanted, and you might let him. He could break you, like this.

It’s a very dangerous thing, he decides. Because he doesn’t want to break you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants to peel back the bandaids and see what’s under them. He wants to scrub the dirt from your face and give you soft clothes —his clothes— not those tattered rags that hang off your body.

You might let him do whatever he wants, but you’re the one who holds this power over him. You’re the one who made him sick— filled his head and clouded his judgement and made him the kind of man he never used to be.

But he can’t say any of that. Can’t even act on it. Not with someone young enough to be his daughter. He has a daughter for Christ’s sake. And a son.

So he just wraps his arm back around your waist and helps you to the medics.

—

“Rick,” Daryl says one afternoon, leaned on the post on the porch, “You’re drivin’ me crazy, here.”

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help with that.”

“The fawn.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The fawn?”

“You know. That nervous little thing you keep pretendin’ you don’t want in your bed.”

“Daryl.”

The man just keeps fiddling with his crossbow. “What?”

“I can’t just— she’s half my age.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I got kids to think about, and—“

“Carl don’t give a shit and Judith is ten. Only thing she’s concerned about is sneakin’ sweets.”

He entertains the notion in his head, thinks about what pursuing you might be like.

Something occurs to him.

“She ever get close to you?”

“No,” Daryl huffs, always knowing exactly what Rick means, “Keeps about an arm’s distance away. No matter what. She’s been inchin’ closer recently, but not by much.”

His hand on your face, moving it this way and that without any resistance at all, your body pliant in his grip—

“Hm,” Is all Rick says, crossing his arms.

“Why fawn?”

Daryl shrugs. “Looks like one. Kinda acts like one, around you.”

“No she doesn’t.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Yes, she does. And based on the way you’ve been actin’, you like it.”

He opens his mouth to refute the point because no, he doesn’t like it, he just constantly thinks about how far he could take it, what you would let him do, if he could make you his.

And then he thinks ‘oh.’ Maybe he does like it.

He drops his hands to his hips. “What exactly am I supposed to do, then?”

“I don’t know. Ain’t my area of expertise.”

“You’re the one who knows her better, said I was drivin’ you crazy.”

“So? I don’t know jack shit about romance, Rick.”

“Well, you keep calling her a fawn. How different can it be?”

Very different, his mind supplies. You know that.

Now it’s Daryl’s turn to sigh. “Don’t overwhelm her. She’s a nervous little thing, but she likes you. Once she figures out you ain’t gonna hurt her, she’ll latch on.”

“That’s specific. You deal with fawns a lot?”

He snorts. “No. I’m fuckin’ guessin’ here.”

The two men fall into silence, Daryl fiddling or cleaning his bow— Rick ain’t paying that much attention to him.

He’s thinking about you. You, you, you. Your eyes and your face and your hands and the figure you carefully keep hidden under layers of clothing, even under the hot Virginia sun.

Fawn, he thinks to himself.

Fitting.

—

He doesn’t make a plan or something stupid like that. He just thinks. And then he decides.

“You’re really coming with us?” Glenn asks, pack slung over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Rick says, holstering his gun, “Goin’ stir crazy in there. Just needa get out for a bit.”

You’re quiet as you get your things in order, but the group doesn’t bat an eye. They’re used to your silence, it seems.

You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, though. You look away every time you think he’s looking at you, but he’s good at looking at you out of the corner of his eye, so he sees it.

Throughout the run, you hover near him, never quite going out of range of his field of vision. He’s impressed by how quietly and efficiently you work- you spot things even he wouldn’t have. All the while watching for walkers, and of course, subtly eyeing Rick.

Despite being the leader, he heads up the back and watches for stragglers. He didn’t really come out cause he was stir-crazy, anyway.

He came out for you. He wanted to watch you work, wanted to do it with you.

To your credit, you work well with the others. You’re a woman of few words with them, but you help where you can and stay civil. Even if you don’t quite get close to any of them.

Except Rick.

As they’re scavenging an abandoned house, a few walkers shuffle out from the trees. Not enough to be a problem— the group outnumbers them easy. But you’re all busy getting supplies and he’s trying to keep an eye out, so he takes them out, one by one.

It really isn’t a huge thing for him, couple walkers ain’t really a big deal, but you notice.

Your eyes are trained on him, clothes now dirty with blood and gore.

He tilts his head, then makes his way over to you.

“You, um,” You say as he gets closer, voice a little hoarse, “Are you alright?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. It’ll take more than a few walkers to take me out.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He snorts a little laugh. “You ain’t too good at this whole conversation thing, huh?”

You flush, looking away. “Sorry. I’m just not… used to having them.”

You look up at him, earnest. “But I’ve been practicing!”

Oh, lord have mercy over his poor soul. You’ve done a full 180– turned from being afraid of him to very obviously wanting his approval.

“That’s good, that’s good. Who you been practicin’ with?”

“Daryl.”

“Now, that ain’t no good.”

You frown, shifting in place. “It’s not?”

“Well, it’s good that you’re tryin’,” He amends, “But Daryl ain’t good for conversation practicin’. He’s a little too much like you. Much too inclined to just sit in silence.”

“Oh.”

You pause, taking your lip between your teeth and mulling something over in your head.

“Would you, um.” You look up at him, clearly nervous.

And he can’t help himself really, from leaning down into your space a bit, a low “Hmm?” humming from his chest.

Your reaction is instant. This close, he can see the exact moment a flush crawls across your face, to even the tips of your ears.

And he’d suspected, you know, based on your behavior with him. But this— cold hard evidence that he makes you nervous. That you want him on you.

It’s cute. Real cute.

You steel yourself against your own nervousness, and he wants to coo at you.

“Would you practice with me?”

He leans back against the post, slides his hands into his pockets. “Course. Ain’t much to it.”

You smile. It’s small, a quiet sort of thing, but it’s there. He made you smile.

You gesture to the house behind you. “I’m. Gonna go back to scavenging. Um. Thanks.”

You turn on your heel, fleeing back into the house. He watches you go, something settling right into place in his chest.

You stick a little closer to him for the rest of the run.

—

After that day, you begin seeking him out. You don’t approach him right away, preferring to to trail behind him for a little bit before finally making a move.

The move being a quiet: “Hi, Rick.”

Today’s no different, other than it being a little later when you do find him. He’s taking a little stroll around, as is his usual. It… settles him, to see everything alright with his own two eyes.

Settles him even more when he hears the quiet patter of your footsteps behind him.

He chuckles. “Afternoon, darlin’.”

Your foot steps speed up, fall into step somewhat beside him. “Hi, Rick.”

“Hi,” He says, smile tugging at his lips. “How was your day?”

You clasp your hands behind your back as you walk. “Good. Weren’t many walkers on today’s run. I got something for Judith.”

“Oh? Let’s see it, then.”

You take something out of your pocket and hold it out to him.

It’s a pocket knife. One of those multi-tool ones.

And it’s pink.

“I know it’s a cliche, the girls knife being pink, and she is only ten, but I saw it and I thought of her, and—“

“It’s perfect,” He interrupts before you can start spiraling. “She’s gonna love it.”

You deflate almost instantly. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure.”

You walk for a few minutes before remembering the point of you coming up to him.

“Um. How was your day?”

He huffs a little, too fond to be upset. “Fairly decent. Ain’t got too much going on now.”

“That’s… good?”

He shrugs. “Just a little borin’. How’s that ankle of yours?”

This is usually how your conversations go. A few easy, back and forth questions. Easing you into talking to people, keeping conversations going. You’ve slowly gotten more confident. You talk a little longer, voice sounds a little more expressive.

“Fine.” You say, a little too quickly.

He narrows his eyes. “Really? No pain at all?”

It’s the looking away that sells it. You never look at him when you’re lying. Can’t stand to.

“No. It’s fine.”

He kicks his foot out a little, the toe of his boot just barely catching your ankle.

It’s a little more effective than he wanted. You let out a little yelp of pain and stumble forward, ankle almost immediately buckling.

He darts forward, catching you under the stomach with one arm.

You hang there a little, arms dangling.

“Fine, huh?” He hefts you up, so you’re back to standing upright, though now, visibly favoring your ankle. “So what’d the doctor tell you when I dropped you off?”

“Rest, ice, compression, and elevation.”

“And which of those four have you been ignorin’?”

“…”

“Hey,” He says, tapping the side of your jaw with two fingers. “Don’t lie to me.”

“All of them,” You wince, “I just didn’t want to be useless. I can walk on it fine. You haven’t even noticed until now!”

Your voice goes a little high at the end, a little desperate.

He thinks about how animals that are lower on the food rung don’t show pain. A deer will break a leg and keep walking until it drops, till it slows too much and something picks it off.

But you ain’t an animal, and nothing’s gonna pick you off.

“That’s true,” He says, “But that don’t make it right. You’re just prolonging the healing process.”

You look down. “…You were mad. I didn’t want to make you more upset by being useless.”

Ah. So that’s what it’s all about.

His approval, once again.

“I’d rather have you useless for a week than useless forever because you didn’t rest properly,” He ignores the hypocrisy of it, the fact that he’s ignored medical advice more times than he can count.

“I really am fine, mostly,” You say meekly, “It’s stopped hurting when I walk. It’s just a little unstable.”

“I still want you taking it easy for a little, you hear me?”

You nod.

“Nah,” He moves, standing in front of you, more than a little in your personal space, “I wanna hear you say it. Use your words.”

It’s a little test of sorts. To see how you’ll respond. What you’ll say. If you’ll listen.

You swallow, eyelashes fluttering. “I hear you. I understand.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Take it easy.”

“That’s right,” You’ve been nice and obedient, so he figures you deserve a little reward. “Good girl.”

He hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your eyes get a little glassy.

Aw, that’s all you wanted. Just wanted to be someone’s good girl.

His good girl.

He nods towards your place. “Get along, now. Do I have to walk you to your door?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll go. I will. Uh— bye.”

He watches you scamper away, gait a little uneven, hands clenched at your sides.

I can get used to this.

—

It becomes a little thing, after that.

When you’re not busy with your own responsibilities, you’re usually with him. Either right beside him, or trailing a few feet behind. Your company is quiet and calm, like waves from a lake lapping gently at the shore.

You also begin to settle in with the rest of the group. You’re still more inclined to be near Rick or, if he’s not available, Daryl, but once you become comfortable talking with people, Maggie and Glenn are quickly added to your slowly growing roster of safe people.

Judith has loved you ever since she found out that you’re the one who gave her the most beloved pink pocket knife, and enjoys babbling and talking your ear off about nothing the way that ten year olds do.

Carl grows to appreciate your presence too, finding solace in the fact that you don’t feel the need to fill silence with conversation.

You still act different when Rick is around, though. Especially when it’s just the two of you.

With everybody else, you’re subtly but very strictly independent- despite growing close with the group, you still maintain a slight distance with most of them, and prefer doing things yourself, by yourself. Old habits die hard, he supposes.

But when you’re alone, just Rick and you, those hard edges soften, and your little personal bubble pops. He’s steadily growing obsessed with the change.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Having such a cute little thing follow him around, hanging off his words. Most days, it’s all he can do not to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed.

And then one day, he does. Kind of.

It must be the middle of the night, but the second he hears the knock at his door, he’s wide awake.

He hushes both Carl and Judith back to bed, then creeps to the front door with his hand on his gun. He has never, in his entire life, been awoken in the middle of the night to good news.

When he opens the door he sees you. And Daryl, but he’s really focused on you. You’ve got tears streaming down your face, you’re wearing a strange combination of sleep clothes and the clothes he’s seen you wear to do runs. Your boots are on, but not tied.

“Wha—“

“Caught her sneaking towards the gates, all shaken up. Figured it’d be wiser to take her here then back to her place.”

Daryl pats your head once. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Then Daryl’s gone, and you’re standing on Rick’s porch, still crying.

“Alright, come here now.”

He barely manages to get the door closed before you fall into him, face pressed to his chest and hands grasping the front of his shirt.

He hesitates for just a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright, you’re alright now.”

He presses one hand to the nape of your neck, keeping you tucked close as you crack, just a little bit, nearly silent tears staining his shirt and tremors wracking your body.

Eventually, he guides you over to the couch, situates himself before helping you into a more comfortable position. He wraps your arms around his neck, your legs draped across his lap and the couch.

He keeps one hand pressed to your neck, the other rubbing slow circles on your back.

He presses his cheek to the crown of your head, breathing in deep and slow, a curl of satisfaction rising in his chest when you unconsciously mimic his breathing, silent sobs slowing, tremors fading.

Once you’ve calmed down enough, he speaks.

“What’s got you so worked up, huh? What happened sweetheart?”

The pet name slips out of his mouth unbidden, but honestly, he wouldn’t take it back.

“Nightmare,” You sniffle. “Daryl was gone and it was my fault and you hated me.”

“Well, none of that happened now, did it?”

You shake your head.

“No, that’s right. Daryl’s just fine, and I ain’t upset with you. You’re alright.”

You take in a few shaky, shuddering breaths.

He shifts, readjusting and tucking you closer to him. “Now, how come you didn’t come to me? Daryl said you were headin’ to the gates.”

You go a little rigid. “Didn’t think I was allowed. Didn’t want to wake you up for something stupid.”

“Oh, none of that now,” He nudges you away a little, taking your face in his hands. He needs eye-contact while he says this, “You need something, you come to me. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what time it is. You come to me, you understand?”

You nod, lip wobbling a bit. “I understand.”

He thumbs your cheekbone. “Good. Now come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

In the morning, the kids are a little surprised to see your rumpled form at the kitchen table, but both recover fairly quickly. Judith especially, who rejoices at the prospect of someone other than Carl or her father whom she can hold hostage with inane, ten year old questions.

But you never quite shake that haunted look in your eyes. Like there was something else— something more in that nightmare, something that dug its little claws in and stuck fast.

It’s all he can do but pray it doesn’t last.

—

It becomes an unspoken thing that wherever Rick is, you’re nearby. Kind of like a little puppy, following him about and hoping for a treat.

He indulges you, because he can’t really help himself in the face of those eyes.

He also knows it’s the easiest way to get you to smile, which he’s been trying to bring about more, since the nightmare. You’ve shaken that haunted expression for the most part, but every now and then, it’ll come back, if just for a few moments.

You’ve been absent most of the day today, off on a run, and he wishes it didn’t get under his skin so much to not have his favorite girl right there behind him.

You’re his stress relief, and you don’t even know it. Don’t even do anything really, just kind of linger about with your adorable little face and occasionally help with your cute little hands. He’s hopelessly obsessed.

You’re smiling when you get back, bee-lining straight for him.

“Well, well,” He says, resting his hands on his hips, “What do we have here?”

“I got you something,” You say, practically vibrating with excitement, slinging your backpack off and rifling through it.

“Oh, something for me? Can’t wait to see it.”

You pull an honest to god polaroid camera out of your bag.

“You said once that you wished you had pictures of your kids to carry with you, and I found this, and it still works, and it still has film in it. I checked.”

You thrust it out to him, and he extracts it carefully from your hands, holding it with an almost reverence.

A camera. A working film camera.

You shuffle in place, and he realizes he’s been staring at it in silence for more than a few minutes. “…Do you like it?”

“I love it,” He says honestly, voice just a little scratchy, because he doesn’t understand how someone can survive the zombie apocalypse, and still end up so damn kind, and so damn sweet. “I’m so touched, sweetheart.”

You beam up at him. If you had a tail, you’d be wagging it. He’s never understood cuteness aggression until this very moment. He just can’t. He wants to squeeze you as hard as he can or just punch a wall or some stupid shit.

God, he’s pushing forty, he needs to get this under control.

“I was really excited when I found it. Tara took a picture of me to test it.”

You pull out a little polaroid picture, film developed, and he takes that with reverence too. In the picture, you’re smiling, that same soft, little smile you do when you’re really happy about something and don’t know how to express it. Your hands show two peace signs, a knife clutched in one.

That’s my girl, he thinks.

“Might just have to keep this,” He says, dumb smile on his face.

“Really?”

“Really. You know, it’s good luck to keep a picture of a pretty girl with you.”

“Pretty?” You squeak, flushing. It’s so easy to make you flustered. He loves it.

“Mhm,” He says, tucking the photo into one of the compartments on his belt, keeping it safe. “Real pretty, I’d say.”

“Oh.” You say, more than a little breathless. “Um.”

Oh, your poor little brain.

“You need a minute?” He snorts.

“Maybe?”

He chuckles, patting the top of your head. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Better get used to it.”

“You’re pretty too,” You blurt, then your eyes widen comically. “No, wait, I meant—“

He laughs, a real, actual laugh. “Me, a grown ass man- pretty. That’s a good one.”

You bury your face in your hands, a tiny little whine escaping your throat.

“Aw, come on, now. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m very flattered you think I’m pretty.”

“S’ not what I meant.” You mumble.

“No?” He says, prying your hands off your face. “What’d you mean, then?”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re… handsome.” You whisper the last part, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Aw, what’d I do to deserve a young thing like you thinking an old man like me is handsome?”

You mumble something again, a little too quiet for him to hear.

“…afe.”

He leans down. “What was that, now?”

“You’re safe.”

Oh.

That’s… not the answer he was expecting.

But he likes it.

Rick is a leader. A protector.

And you need him.

“I make you feel safe?” He hums, resisting the urge to step closer to you because you’re very much out in the open and he knows how you feel about wide open spaces, especially when there’s people in them. He’s torturing you enough as it is. “That why you linger around me, huh?”

Feeling bolder at his interest, you nod.

“You make me feel like… something special. Protected.”

Yes.

He’s always known that he needs to be needed. That he’s the kind of man who requires being a leader, taking care of what’s his, protecting.

To have verbal confirmation that he’s made you feel safe, protected, it’s.

Well it’s a lot more than he can unpack in front of the gates.

“Pretty little thing like you needs protectin’.”

You frown.

“Not because you’re incapable,” He amends, hands raised, “But because I rather like doing it.”

You lean closer, and he follows, heat rising—

“Please, save us all the pain of havin’ to watch, Rick.”

He grins, nose brushing yours, then steps back.

“Maybe stop creepin’ around, Daryl.” He calls to the other man, who just shrugs, ambling on by.

But Daryl does have a point. He doesn’t want an audience. You’re not that kind of girl.

Instead, he reaches down, snakes an arm around your waist and leads you away from the open space, towards his house instead.

“Come on, sweetheart. Think you’d rather be somewhere quiet for what I’m about to do.”

The heat radiating from your body and the shiver he feels under his palm is all the confirmation he needs.

His little fawn, finally his.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[hello-sweetheart]

Neat Freak

Steve’s parents don’t make him keep the house spotless. He really is just that clean and when Nancy tries to tell people there like “lol, sure” but she knows.

He’s a neat freak.

When she would stay over she would change into her pjs and make a small bundle of her day clothes on his desk chair, and steve would just. Fold them. Before getting in bed with her.

Doesn’t take long after for the others to realize it.

Robin thought it was just a guy thing, caring that much about their car. Scolding her for kicking her socked feet up on the dash, and leaving crumbs of toast when she had breakfast to go.

But then she visits his house the first time and Robin has never been good at using a coaster, too scatter brained to pay attention where she sets her drink down each time.

Steve, though? Without missing a beat he will move her glass to the coaster. Every time. Doesn’t even break his strike or pauses his conversation it’s just muscle memory by now.

The kids have had their will broken and no longer put up a fight.

Without being told to anymore, they toe off their shoes and hang their coat by the doorway. They don’t even do that in their own home. How Steve was able to get those wild animals house broken? No body knows.

His mom didn’t actually choose his room decor. It looks a bit barren but Steve likes it that way. It looks clean, easier to do so, too. Everything has its place tucked away from sight so it’s not an eye sore.

Even his plaid wallpaper and curtains he chose for himself. He spent all day finding the curtains that matched the closest and he was really proud of himself when found some.

“Steve, buddy, this looks mental.”

“But look,” (closest the curtains to show that even the pattern lines up seemlessly) “you almost can’t even see the difference between the wall and fabric. It’s like magic! It’s cool!” >:(

He’s very meticulous about his appearance. Dustin is absolutely flabbergasted when he sees his full hair routine for himself. Everything must be done a certain way in a certain order every time. It’s routine.

“Three puffs of the Farah Fawcett! THREE!”

“I DID THREE.”

“YEAH, BUT YOU DID THEM WRONG.”

When they discontinue it, Steve has a mini breakdown. He doesn’t like that his very specific and set routine has been broken. He’s convinced he’ll never find a hair spray to replace it. Everybody stocks up on cans of it to try and lower his anxiety.

He just loves cleaning, okay?

Ironing his kakis and polos until there are no wrinkles is so satisfying. Glass without finger smudges is so nice. His closet being organized by color is so efficient. When he’s worried, anxious, or angry he likes to keep his hands busy and it just calms him down going ham on a water stain in the bathroom.

When he hangs out at Eddie’s, he mindlessly starts picking things up here and there. It’s like heaven for him. He sees a mess and just wants to go to town. Eddie doesn’t mind as long as he knows where everything is in the end. He’ll admit that having his music organized alphabetically is pretty convenient.

It’s also a little funny to watch Steve iron his ripped jeans and battle jacket with an iron he brought from home.

“You’re a freak, Harrington.” Eddie has a shit eating grin. Steve flips him off.

“Fuck off.”

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Steve’s been running a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of the stove for almost ten minutes. She’s told him over and over to be confident, that he’s got nothing to lose and everything to gain. But he’s still nervous. And to be fair, she can’t hold it against him. It took her ages to ask Nancy out.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighs, “are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes, Dingus, he likes you. Eddie never pulls the tips of my hair or holds my hand or leans on my shoulder. Because people only do that if they’re interested in someone. Right?” Her cheeks twitch under the strain of her reassuring smile.

“Yeah…?” He shines with guarded hope.

Robin can’t help but ask, for what has to be the millionth time, “have you at least told him you’re bisexual?”

Steve’s eyes dim again and it’s all the answer she needs. Honestly, he’s doing a hell of a lot better than she expected. He’s told a few people so far– as practice, Rob, with the easy people– including her and Nancy, Dustin, Max and Lucas. It might have been practice to start, but now he’s just stalling the inevitable. And they both know it.

“Let’s go back out there,” Robin encourages. She throws her arm over his broad shoulders, highlighted by the plain indigo t-shirt that’s on the right side of too small. They’d picked it out together: something dark and tight for Eddie, yet something still classically Steve. 

He nods as she hauls him back towards the living room, two cold six packs in their hands. The group’s Saturday movie night tradition at Steve’s had been going well so far. After a few joints, Argyle suggested a drinking game, hence the beers. Eddie, Steve, and Robin were quick to jump on the bandwagon, leaving Nancy and Jonathan as sober cabs for Robin and Argyle, who’d just rented a new apartment in town.

Eddie, very pointedly, hadn’t committed to how his night would end. Robin snorted when his eyes darted to Steve to gauge his reaction as they coordinated cars, even though her poor best friend was completely oblivious to Eddie’s blush.

Steve’d been in the middle of ordering pizza when he’d overheard their planning and almost dropped the phone, bulldozing their conversation to shout, “Teddy, why don’t you just spend the night, since your van is back at your– oh, hi yeah can we get one large–” and Eddie sagged in relief. 

Robin loves them, but my god are they actual idiots. Even Nancy couldn’t help but giggle at their antics, Eddie smacking her lightly on the arm in protest of her teasing. The two have become increasingly close since Eddie’s two month stint in the hospital recovering from demon bat rabies. Not rabies, Robin! Just a normal infection.

It was a shock at first, to find Eddie and Nancy spending time together away from everyone else. They just didn’t seem to fit together, from the outside looking in. But much like Steve and Robin, all you had to do was look past the surface.

Which means if Robin can successfully set up Steve and Eddie, they’ll create the perfect little quad. Sometimes she gets caught up imagining their double dates, if onlookers would be surprised to find Robin on Steve’s arm and Nancy on Eddie’s, and not the other way around.

They’d be able to go on actual dates in public. She could hold Nancy’s hand under the table and lean her head on Steve’s shoulder. He’d give her a light kiss on the forehead while playing footsie with Eddie. Then Robin would go home with Nancy and fall asleep wrapped up in each other like a dream.

It’s the perfect plan. Or at least, it would be if the boys could just take their heads out of their asses. 

So as the six of them lazed around all day, Robin and Nancy made sure Steve and Eddie were always next to each other; although, they really didn’t have to try that hard. The boys reflexively sought each other out, eyes catching from across the room, or shoulders brushing sitting side by side. 

They were the only two who shared a joint, even though Argyle had plenty to pass around. Steve whined about his low tolerance, how he didn’t need a full one, only for Eddie to fall over himself– literally, with how fast he turned to face him, almost smacking Steve in the head– to offer his own to share.

So when they walk back into the room and something feels just slightly off, Robin briefly wonders if her own smoke was stronger than normal, even though she’d only felt a slight buzz. That maybe, hopefully, this is some awful hallucination and the joints were laced with acid.

Argyle’s sitting on the sofa next to Jonathan right where they’d left him, now lazed over the arm and lightly snoring with his feet curled up underneath him like a giant cat. Eddie’s still sitting on the floor next to Jon’s legs, an open space to his right where Steve had been sitting only minutes ago. Except there’s something different with Nancy. 

Nancy had been sitting in the chair across from Argyle earlier, complaining about Robin’s bony ass digging into her leg but refusing to let her up. Now she’s standing by the opening of the hallway, almost like she was waiting for them to come back. She's biting her lip, eyes wide, ringing her hands in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

Robin moves towards her, anxious to know what’s got her so upset. She notices Nancy’s eyes flitting between Steve and the boys, so Robin follows her gaze.

Jon’s bent forward, leaning down over Eddie like they're sharing a secret. His hand cradles Eddie’s cheek, and Robin can see the moment Eddie fits himself between Jon’s legs. Eddie cranes his neck as he turns to face him. It’s uncoordinated roaming hands and sloppy lips, too much tongue– and the sounds. Wet, slurping and sucking she’ll never be able to unhear, obnoxiously loud and seared into her brain.

They're kissing.

Robin’s going to throw up. She’s died, this must be hell. No wonder why Nance looks so freaked out. None of them knew about Jonathan. Sure, they all wondered if he and Argyle had something going on, but no one pried, and the two had never said anything. Objectively, Robin knows this wouldn’t bother Nancy. She and Jonathan dated almost three years ago, they’ve both moved on and are good friends at this point. So why would she–

Jonathan opens his eyes to find them watching. They crinkle around a smile as he looks behind her and tugs on Eddie’s curls. Without breaking eye contact, he shoves his tongue deep into Eddie’s mouth, who then moans in response. Robin’s not sure if Eddie knows they’re in the room, but Jonathan sure as hell does. 

It takes her too long to put it together, to realize Jonathan’s not looking at her or Nancy. There’s a small whimper behind her where his gaze is locked and he smiles again, triumphant.

Robin rounds on Steve, who’s frozen to the spot. All the blood’s drained from his face, leaving him pale and sickly looking like he could pass out any second. He isn’t blinking. He’s staring and staring and staring, completely enraptured by the scene unfolding before them. 

She bodily moves herself in front of him, thankful more than she’s ever been that he’s a little short for a boy and she’s a little tall for a girl. He won’t look at her, he can’t see her standing right in front of him, his eyes a million miles away. She grabs both of his hands and digs her nails into the meat of his palms.

His eyes finally snap to hers, and she almost wishes they hadn’t. Steve’s hands practically vibrate within her own, matching the wobbling of his lip and the shimmering on his lash line. 

“Robs,” Steve croaks, the rest of his thought lodged in his throat.

There’s nothing she can do as she watches Steve’s heart shatter in real time, cracked down the center like it was struck with a bolt of lightning. 

“Steve,” Eddie calls out in concern, “are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Robin turns around to face him, keeping her place in front of Steve like a shield. She catches the downcast of Jonathan’s eyes as his hand threads through the ends of Eddie’s hair, lips still loose and open waiting for the next kiss. But now Eddie’s pushing himself up from the floor, brows drawn tight together, fixated on Steve like he’s the only boy in the room.

Except she’s seen him look at Steve that way a thousand times in the months since they barely survived hell together. Eddie looked at Steve with stars in his eyes, like he was the man of his dreams. How he would grow wider and taller and louder if Steve kept laughing until he’d snort. A sound Eddie fucking loved. She’d watch Eddie take care of Steve during migraines, scrape his fingernails down his scalp until Steve fell asleep, head cradled in Eddie’s lap.

Robin loved watching Eddie watch Steve because, for the first time, it felt like someone finally saw in him what she’s always seen. She’s wanted nothing more for Steve than to have someone in his life who loves and takes care of him as much as she does. And Robin was so, so fucking sure that that person was Eddie Munson.

How things have gone horribly wrong.

Steve catches Eddie’s movement and bolts back toward the kitchen, faster than she’s ever seen him move on the court. Nancy moves to follow him but Robin slips her hand into hers. Beautiful, sweet, smart, wonderful Nancy Wheeler understands Robin quick as a flash, shoring up next to her to help block the hallway. 

Eddie stands on tiptoes in front of them, stretching his neck to catch a glimpse of what Robin hopes is a closed door.

“What happened?” Eddie’s genuinely concerned, and Robin has to shove down the warm, fuzzy feeling she normally gets when Eddie asks about Steve in favor of the overwhelming urge to murder everyone in this room. Except for Nancy, and maybe Argyle, who’s started slowly waking up from the commotion.

Robin obnoxiously shifts to the side to block Eddie’s path. “Don’t worry about it, Munson. He’s fine, just a little sick from the shitty weed.” The weed isn’t shitty– it’s Argyle’s. It’s the first excuse her brain concocted. But it doesn’t really matter. 

Her tone is barbed, meant to dig the hurt in deep and hook it inside his skin. She’s never considered herself a mean person. Apparently all someone has to do is hurt her best friend. Eddie flinches away, nose flared and eyes crinkled, ready to argue back until Nancy interrupts them both. 

“If Steve isn’t feeling well,” her voice chimes with a practiced false sincerity, “maybe we should all head home and let him rest.” God Robin fucking loves this woman. Always quick on her feet, fast on the uptake.

Robin’s gaze is unyielding in the face of an angry Eddie Munson. They both know, under normal circumstances, Robin would back down by now. Every second he’s forced to soak in her wrath, she catches him shrinking further in on himself. There’s uncertainty growing in the uptick of his brows, the crease of his forehead. He’s tugging at the hem of his sleeveless Queen t-shirt.

Her lip pulls up into a fierce scowl in recognition. Robin tugs at the front of the shirt hard enough to stretch it out. She’s not too worried about ruining it anymore than it already is. There’s white paint stains on the shoulders from when Steve begged her to help give his bedroom walls a base coat. Little holes dotted along the hemline from Steve’s poorly-ashed joint a few months ago.

The shirt is old, faded, well-loved, and Steve’s. It’s all the reasons why Eddie asked to keep it, and why Steve didn’t hesitate to give it up, wanting Eddie to always have a little piece of him.

Robin’s white-knuckled grip stretches the shirt enough that the sound of ripping causes Eddie to try and escape. When she lets go, a few of the holes in the hemline have torn together. He stumbles backwards, smoothing out the new stretch marks on what’s left of the printed lettering.

Robin revels in the moment he truly recognizes what he's wearing. His face now completely devoid of the Freak’s bravado and misplaced anger. What’s left is a montage of emotions like confusion, frustration, and panic, running him over like a bulldozer and Robin gets to watch each hit smash him deeper into the dirt.

“Yeah, Nancy might be right,” Jonathan sighs, sounding faux-tired and yet all too pleased to call it early. He slaps his knees as he stands and gives Argyle’s shoulder enough of a shake to get the guy up and moving.

They gather their things, Nancy wandering over to help push them along, while Eddie and Robin stand as stone pillars facing each other. She’d plant herself here the rest of her life if it meant keeping her soulmate safe.

“Robin,” Eddie practically whimpers, “please–”

“Hey, uh, Teddy?” Jonathan chirps up happily from across the room. Eddie’s eyes slip closed in pain when Robin mockingly mouths the nickname back at him– one she thought was special, just for Steve. “I’ve still got a few more pre-rolls, want to head back to my place?”

Eddie’s eyes fly open. A sardonic smile splits her face as he chokes on his own spit in response. “Guess this means you won’t be staying. Right, Teddy?”

Eddie flinches when Jon slings a heavy arm over his shoulders, which morphs into a possessive claim when he drops his arm to wrap around Eddie’s waist, going so far as to slip the tip of his finger into the top of Eddie’s skin-tight jeans.

Robin notices Argyle’s hair dip forward to hide his face. It’s only now she realizes he’s missed everything that’s happened. Sure enough, she barely catches the shock in his eyes before he turns away.

This is such a fucking nightmare. If she breaks Jonathan’s head open with the nail bat upstairs, she wonders if she’ll be able to see the part of his brain that’ll tell her what the hell he was thinking when he decided to kiss Eddie.

Moving to extricate himself from Jonathan’s hold, Eddie awkwardly chuckles. “Actually, Johnny-boy, I think I might just head home instead.”

“Oh,” Jonathan frowns, in a way that Robin absolutely hates. “How are you going to get home? Didn’t Steve pick you up earlier?”

Eddie– eyes still locked on Robin– very obviously flounders for an excuse and Robin’s enjoying watching him grasp at straws. “I’ll just walk home. Little bit of fresh air never killed anyone, right?”

“No, dude,” Jonathan croons, “I can give you a ride. I’m more than happy to go a little out of my way if it’s for you. Maybe we can smoke at your place instead?”

Jonathan’s free hand reaches up towards Eddie’s hair again, like a little boy pulling his crushes pigtails for attention. But Eddie practically throws himself at the opposite wall, putting as much space between them as he can without actually running down the front door.

“I’m dropping off Argyle, anyway,” Nancy jumps in to save the day, her hand gently patting Argyle’s shoulder, “and you two live the same direction. So why don’t I drive Eddie home instead?”

“Please,” Eddie begs, staring at Robin as he melts with relief into the wall. “That’s great, yes. Thanks Nance.”

Jonathan seems to have shrugged off the entire exchange as he moves towards the door to slip his shoes on. Nancy and Argyle are already ready to go, waiting on Eddie, who’s slowly backing his way toward them and still looking at her. This might be the first staring contest Robin’s ever won in her whole life. 

Once he’s finally got his shit together, Eddie looks her up and down, confusion scrunched between his eyes. “Aren’t you coming with? You said you and Nancy were–”

“I think I’ll be staying here, thanks,” Robin states flatly. 

Eddie chews on his lip, but nods and heads out the door, Jonathan still hot on his heels. Her and Nancy exchange a quick I love you, good luck, keep me updated goodbye before she shuts the door behind her.

Every fantasy Robin imagined about a future filled with her favorite people fell apart in the span of five minutes. She can’t help but wonder if they had just gone back to the party sooner. If Steve had confessed to Eddie yesterday. If Eddie hadn’t gotten so high or maybe even if Jonathan had an ounce of common sense, this could’ve been avoided. 

Robin could be lying in bed with Nancy tonight, wrapped around each other, comfortable and warm. She could fall asleep proud that Steve had finally worked up the courage to confess how he felt. She could’ve woken up tomorrow imagining her two favorite dinguses were in a similar tangled mess of limbs, and she could smile knowing they finally found each other.

But now, silence presses against the walls of this empty house, pushing at the ceiling and cracking the foundation. It sits heavy on her chest. Her head’s filled with static and she thinks she finally understands the juxtaposition of a loud silence. But a weak sob cuts the air like a jagged shard of glass. Turning towards the kitchen, she shores up everything she has left in her to help her soulmate pick up the shattered pieces of his broken heart.

Part 2

Ao3

[ashwhowrites]

I'm so happy you're back and your requests are open!!

Can I request Eddie Munson who tries to get your attention but you’re stuck on someone else? Could be Steve or something. Eventually you notice him and a happy ending?

I love this trope! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting ❤️

Notice me

Eddie had his reasons for disliking Steve Harrington. He knew he had petty reasons but reasons were reasons. Eddie knew who Steve truly was before he changed in the eyes of Dustin. Eddie tried to be nice about Steve for the kid but he couldn't help but roll his eyes whenever he talked about him. To him, Steve was the shallow boy he was in high school.

That's what he'd tell Dustin anyway.

Another huge reason was the girl Eddie had been in love with for years had her eyes set on Steve. Steve might have been the king, a rich daddy and good looks but Eddie knew he could never love Y/N the way he could.

Luckily for Eddie, Steve was still caught up on Nancy. Which he had no idea why. If Y/N was standing in front of him, Nancy would never be thought of again. But that's where they were different.

Y/N was friends with Steve but ached for so much more. It pained her to try to get Steve to see her in a new light, but he still had feelings for Nancy. It frustrated Y/N, Nancy was in love with another guy but Steve still wanted her.

She had absolutely no clue that her friend Eddie was desperate to get her attention. And that he had been trying for years.

~~~

Y/N sat on the curb as she frowned. She attended this party in hopes of talking to Steve, but he was searching around for Nancy. Y/N was positive she wasn't here but Steve didn't care. She wore her best dress, spent hours on her hair and makeup and still Steve barely glanced in her direction. She felt crushed as she held back tears.

Eddie walked up to the party, a toolbox in his hand as he prepared to sell. His attitude shifted from the party to Y/N sitting on the front curb.

"Want some company?" He asked. She looked up as someone joined her. She smiled as Eddie looked down at her with a soft look.

"Sure, Eds," she smiled. "I'd love your company."

Eddie smiled at her words, his heart fluttering. He sat next to her, not wasting a second to wrap his arm around her shoulder and bring her into his chest.

In his arms, she tried not to break down. She was embarrassed he already knew she was upset but she tried to soak in Eddie's comfort.

"Here to sell?" She asked, not wanting to talk about the elephant in the room.

"Yeah, unfortunately," he laughed. She enjoyed the vibrations coming from his chest. "I'll gladly take all of their daddy's money though."

She laughed as she cuddled into his chest. "Gonna buy yourself something nice with it? New watch or bracelet?" She joked.

"Nah, I've got you on my arm. I don't need that shit."

She smiled at his words, trying to forget how sad she felt about Steve. "You're the best, Eddie. Thank you for being my friend."

Eddie smiled but his heart cracked. He wasn't sure what to do to make her see him as more than a friend but he wasn't going to give up.

"You don't have to sit out here with me. I know you have work to do," she sighed. She went to pull away but he kept her in place.

"I want to," he reassured her, "Wanna get out of here? We can rent a movie."

Y/N debated on the option, but she was still desperate for Steve. "I appreciate it, Eddie. You go sell, make good money. I'm going to see if I can find Steve."

Eddie tried not to show how sad he was as she kissed his cheek and stood up. He grabbed her hand to stop her and she looked down at him.

"You look beautiful tonight, by the way. In case the jerk face doesn't notice, you should know."

She smiled to the ground as she rubbed his hand as a thank you before letting it go.

He turned his head to watch her disappear into the party. He stood up and kicked a rock near his foot. He shook off his disappointment and the rejection. He grabbed his drugs and headed to the backyard. He hated Steve Harrington.

~~~

Y/N knew she tried too hard to seek Steve's interest but she couldn't stop herself. She just wanted him so bad. He was inches away from her all the time, making her want to connect their lips and never let him go. It was torture to talk to him, breathe in his cologne, and not have him the way she wanted.

She wasn't sure what Nancy had that she didn't. Even with their history, Nancy didn't love Steve the way Y/N did. He was so blinded by Nancy that he couldn't see how perfect Y/N was for him and how happy she could make him.

She sighed as she played with the straw in her drink. She frowned as she watched Steve lean against the wall to talk to Nancy. It was Steve's birthday and they were all huddled at his house to celebrate. She was glad Steve's parents weren't ever around so she could drink everything in Steve's dad's bar.

As usual, Nancy gave him short answers, clearly wanting to be anywhere else. It was painful that everyone could see how pitifully in love he was but Nancy. Y/N felt out of place as the room was filled with people she didn't know. As his friend, it wasn't with it. But if they were together, she'd stand by him in any crowded room because he felt safe. After a few more drinks, she gave up on Steve.

She slightly stumbled out of her seat, walking over to Steve and Nancy.

"Sorry to interrupt, Happy birthday, Steve. I'm going to call for a ride and head home,"

"Oh yeah, thanks for coming," he said quickly, not even looking at her as he jumped right back into Nancy. Y/N felt her face burn in embarrassment. She turned and quickly walked away. The faster she walked the more she realized she needed that ride. She headed for the phone on the wall and dialed the familiar number.

~

She soaked in the night air as she lay in the grass. It was uncomfortable, stabbing her skin but she didn't mind. Her eyes closed as she breathed in. The alcohol swimming around her head. She shouldn't be surprised every time Steve ignores her, but for some reason, she thought it would be different at one point. One day he'll realize Nancy isn't the one for him and come to her. She could wait for that day.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,"

She opened her eyes as she heard Eddie's voice getting closer to her. She smiled when he appeared in front of her, a worried look on his face.

"You little shit! I thought you were passed out and hurt!"

"Come lay down with me," she giggled, the alcohol taking more effect. "Let's look at the stars!"

"Honey, you're drunk. How about we go home?" He asked, holding out his hand.

"Please?" She whispered, Eddie sighed as he saw the begging look in her eyes.

"Fine, but only for a little bit! Sticks and shit get stuck in my hair," he grumbled laying next to her. He looked up at the stars like she asked, his hands on his chest. "I don't know what I'm looking at."

His heart fluttered as she laughed. She tilted her head until she was hitting his shoulder. She pointed up to the sky, her arm between them as he followed it. She began to point out the stars above them, knowing every name.

Eddie wasn't surprised she knew all of them. She amazed him every time he learned something new about her. If she had any flaws he didn't see them. When he dreamed about his future, she was it.

"Which ones can I wish on?" He muttered.

"Shooting stars, but those are hard to find. Why? Do you have a wish?" She asked, she tilted her head up to look at him. He looked breathtaking under the moonlight. His big brown eyes reflected the stars and Y/N felt this new emotion towards him.

He shrugged, still looking above. "I've got one in mind." She couldn't tear her eyes away, she had never noticed how beautiful he was. She felt this desire to kiss him, and it scared her.

"What is it?" She whispered. Eddie turned to look at her, shocked to see her already looking at him.

"I can't tell you because then it won't come true," he teased. She let out a smile, agreeing to his statement.

"I hope it comes true for you," she said.

She didn't know she was the only one who could make his wish come true.

"Let's get you home, sweets," he said as he got to his feet. He held out his hand as she sat up.

"Can I stay with you? I don't want to be alone," she asked, hugging her knees. She looked lost and sad. And Eddie wished he could take all her pain away.

"I've got your favorite shirt cleaned, and Wayne made his famous Mac and cheese for dinner," he smiled as her face lit up. She jumped to her feet and grasped his hand.

~

Y/N enjoyed her warm bowl of Mac and cheese as she sat in Eddie's T-shirt. Her legs tossed on his lap as he flicked through the channels. His free hand rubbed up and down her shin, goosebumps raised under his touch.

She immediately felt better in the presence of Eddie and his trailer. There wasn't a bad day that Eddie couldn't turn around. The alcohol slowly left her system as her tipsy energy decreased.

"Hey," she said softly as she nudged him with her foot. His hand stopped moving and he turned to look at her. "Thank you for coming tonight."

He wanted to say so much. He wanted her to realize she called him when she was sad, not Steve. He wanted her to realize he knew how to make her feel better, and Steve wouldn't know where to start. He just wanted her to finally see he was the one who picked up her broken pieces when Steve didn't pick her. But he couldn't.

"I'll always be there when you need me."

~~~

The weather was warm and Dustin invited everyone out to play a game of baseball. Eddie brought Y/N and Dustin to the field. Steve, Nancy, Robin, and Mike met them there.

"Who are the captains?" Dustin asked as he smacked his hand against his glove.

"I will," Steve said as he stepped forward.

Eddie rolled his eyes, not surprised he wanted to be the frontman. He caught a glance of Y/N staring at Steve as she bit her lip. Eddie wasn't afraid of some competition.

Eddie stepped forward and Y/N was surprised.

"Alright, let's see what you got pretty boy," Eddie smirked as he patted Steve's chest.

Dustin wasn't surprised by the heat between them, but Y/N was new to seeing just how much Eddie couldn't stand Steve. Eddie was never the type to want to run around and sweat. He could care less about this shit and all of a sudden he wanted to run the team and to go against Steve.

Steve looked down at Eddie's hand, shoving it off his chest as he glared at him.

"Pick first," Eddie growled. Steve didn't look away from him as he called Nancy's name.

"Y/N," Eddie called. She happily skipped to his side. She felt excited she was his first pick.

"Mike" Steve called

"Dustin" Eddie called

"Robin" Steve called

The teams were set and the game started. They separated to warm up and then started the game.

"Think they'll tackle each other half way through?" Robin asked as she guarded first base. Y/N laughed behind her as she kept her foot on the base, waiting for Eddie to bat.

"Definitely,"

Y/N watched as Eddie stepped up to bat. She couldn't help but check him out as he smacked the bat against his sneakers. His legs displayed as he wore black shorts and a tight white T-shirt. Even from across the field she could see his dark ink. His hair was tied up, thanks to her.

"Don't be scared to throw it like a man this time, Harrington," he smirked as he sent Steve a wink. This was the first time Y/N had ever seen Eddie do a sport, and she wasn't sure if he should be trash talking.

Steve threw the ball with all the anger in his body, the ball cracked against the bat as Eddie swung. Y/N watched in awe as Eddie hit it out of anyone's reach. Nancy went running after the ball as Eddie started running. Y/N stood on the base shocked.

"BABY! YOU GOTTA RUN!" he screamed as he ran towards her. She snapped out of her thoughts and ran as fast as she could. Eddie was right behind her, encouraging her as she hit the second base. "GO! GO! GO!"

She squealed with excitement as she kept running, Eddie hot on her feet as she smacked the third base.

"HOME RUN! GO! GO!" Dustin screamed from home base as he waited to bat.

Y/N pushed through and landed on the base, Eddie right behind her. She screamed as Eddie picked her up and twirled her in the dirt.

"THAT WAS SO FUN!' she screamed, the adrenaline pumping through her. She looked down at Eddie as he gently dropped her to her feet. "I didn't know you knew how to play!" She said shocked as she smacked his shoulder. "That was fucking impressive."

"I always have tricks up my sleeve," he winked as he walked to grab his bat. Y/N tried to shrug off the blush she felt creeping on from his wink.

The game started to get heated quickly as Steve and Eddie ran laps around each other. Neither were giving up and being fueled by their competitiveness.

Steve was just an out behind winning the whole thing. He couldn't stand the thought of Eddie winning. He didn't have much against the guy, but Eddie hated him so Steve returned the favor.

Y/N ran as fast as she could, trying to make it safely to the base. With her foot an inch away she felt Steve smash against her, ball to her stomach. She cried out in pain as she dropped to her knees, the ball knocking the wind out of her.

Steve didn't notice at first, caught up in the heat of the game. He became alert real quick when Eddie ran over.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!" Eddie screamed as he shoved Steve. Steve threw down the ball and glove, getting back in Eddie's face.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. DON'T PUSH ME!" He gave Eddie a hard shove, making him stumble a few steps back.

"You don't play rough with a girl like that," Eddie said with a clenched jaw. He was becoming very protective over her and everyone was getting worried a fight would break out.

"Eddie, I'm okay," Y/N said as she breathed through her words. "It was just an accident." She clenched her stomach and Eddie turned to look at her. "Don't start something."

Eddie scoffed as she blamed him. "Seriously? He fucking hurt you! And I wouldn't be surprised if it was on purpose." Eddie spat as he turned to Steve.

"I'd never hurt her," Steve fought back.

"Like you even give a shit about her," Eddie snarled. "Your head is so far up Nancy's ass you've got no idea how much you've been hurting Y/N."

Y/N gulped as Steve casted a look towards her. "Eddie please just shut up." She begged.

"You know what, fine," Eddie scoffed as he backed up. "It's always going to be Steve anyway." He sent a sad glance towards Y/N and walked away. She stared after him, a twist in her stomach.

Steve walked over to check on her, his hands on her skin. She wanted to soak in the feeling but her eyes followed Eddie. She pushed Steve away and ran to follow Eddie but he was gone when she made it to the parking lot.

~

Y/N normally wasn't nervous to see Eddie, but knowing he was upset with her didn't settle right. After the gang left the field, Steve dropped her off at Eddie's.

Originally she was going to get her car and let Eddie have space. Yet, she welcomed herself into his unlocked trailer and found him in his room.

She knocked on the open door, alerting her presence. He looked over his shoulder from his spot on his bed, letting out a puff of air before he turned back around.

"I'm sorry I made you upset," she said, walking into his room. She sat on his bed, but he didn't turn around. "I hope you know you mean more to me than he does. You're my best friend and you always will be. And it was rude of me to tell you to shut up. I just didn't want Steve to know how I felt."

"I know I mean more to you than Steve as friends. But I want to mean more than him in other ways," Eddie admitted. He kept his back towards her as he spoke his wall.

"What does that mean?" She asked

Eddie sighed as he rolled over. He sat up and looked down at his hands. "You know how you've been trying to get Steve to notice you romantically?"

"Yeah," Y/N sadly sighed.

"I've been trying to do the same thing with you," he confessed. He nervously looked up from his hands to see her reaction.

"You like me?" She asked. He hated the pitiful look in her eyes. She felt guilty for hurting him and never noticing.

"Yeah," Eddie sighed. "For a long time."

Y/N was shocked. She didn't know what to say. She never once thought Eddie liked her as more than a friend. She was as oblivious as Steve was apparently. But she couldn't deny how her attention had shifted to Eddie lately.

"And I know you like Steve and I'm nothing like Steve."

Y/N shifted closer, "Remember that night of Steve's birthday?"

Eddie nodded, eyeing as she continued to move closer.

"I wanted to kiss you," she confessed. "I thought you looked beautiful and I had this huge urge to kiss you. I thought maybe I was drunk. But I woke up thinking the same thing."

"Really?" Eddie gulped. He was getting nervous as she got even closer, his heart racing.

"Really. Then I wanted to do it again at the baseball field. My stomach had butterflies the whole time, and it was not because of him."

"Do you want to do it now?' he asked, flicking his eyes to her lips.

"I do," she shyly smiled. She held her breath as he moved and held her cheek, leaning in.

She felt fireworks erupt in her stomach as their lips touched. She worked her way onto his lap as the kiss deepened, both wanting to be as close as possible.

After that kiss, she never thought of Steve again.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[uss-butterscotch]

Part 4 is here!!!

I’m glad so many people are enjoying this :) I’ll probably have to come up with a real name for it now, huh

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

Thoroughly chastised, Eddie laid off on his investigation into the mystery behind Harrington and his unlikely friends for a few days. That’s not to say he wasn’t thinking about it. He had simply paused any needling of all involved parties until he had more information about how to continue without pissing everyone off. Something he wouldn’t really be worried about, if it didn’t mean he would never get to the bottom of things, which would eat at him until the end of time if never resolved.

The next time he found himself directly involved in Harrington affairs was in a place he never would have expected: his own driveway. Well, the driveway directly across from his, which in the trailer park, may as well have been his own driveway. Eddie had been minding his business, working on the lyrics for a new song, when the voices he could hear growing steadily louder outside finally caught his attention; shifting his focus from his notebook to the ongoing.. argument?

“Why do you even care?” A girl’s voice rang out.

Yeah, definitely an argument, though it wasn’t a voice he recognized as one of the frequent offenders of loud trailer park discussions. Using his incredible deduction skills from years of puzzle-based games, he guessed it was the red headed girl from the family that had just moved in across the driveway. Before he had time to think too much about that, a voice he did recognize answered her.

“Why do I-“ Harrington cut himself off with a scoff. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re not my goddamn brother!” The girl, Eddie thought her name started with an M, Marie… Mandy..? shouted in response.

“Thank god for that.” Harrington shot back.

That must have had some sort of effect on the girl because it was silent for a beat. Eddie took the opportunity to move so he could peek out the window to watch them. Harrington and the girl stood next to his car, which was parked in front of the trailer Eddie knew to be where she lived. Harrington had his hands on his hips while the girl had her arms crossed and was glaring daggers at him.

“Max, I-” Right! That was her name.

Harrington sighed, a tired, defeated thing. “Things have been rough since… since Starcourt. For everyone. I want to make sure you’re ok. You shouldn’t… y’know, feel alone in this.”

“How could you possibly know how I fucking feel?” She spat back at him.

Harrington remained unintimidated, an impressive feat, if you asked Eddie, since Max was looking at him like she was trying to blow him up with her mind.

In response, he threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “I guess I wouldn’t! Because you won’t talk to me! You won’t talk to Sinclair! You won’t talk to anyone!”

“None of you would understand! None of you-“

“What?” Harrington pushed, crossing his own arms. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost people? The only one who feels guilty about things that were out of our control?”

“I don’t feel guilty.” She nearly growled.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

This whole scene was really reminding Eddie of the bitchy figure of Steve Harrington that he remembered from school. Never knowing when to back off. Poking the sore spots. Eddie would almost be worried about Max, if Harrington wasn’t planted firmly in the same spot through the whole thing, and if she wasn’t giving as good as she took, looking more exasperated than anything.

When Max failed to reply, Harrington continued. “Look. I know how tempting it is to try to shut it all out and move on. That’s what Nancy and I tried to do the first time, and look where that got us.”

Eddie couldn’t really make out Harrington’s expression from this distance, but he almost sounded pleading. “I don’t wanna see you make the same mistakes I did. I don’t want you to ruin your friendships, or what you have with Lucas, because you’re too afraid to talk about it. I’ve been there, and it sucks. Hard.”

That seemed to be the final straw for Max. Eddie watched her turn abruptly around and storm into the trailer, whose lights were suspiciously dark for the time of evening it was.

“Hey!” Harrington called after her, making an aborted movement to follow her. “Mayfield!”

Harrington opened the door to the backseat of his car and pulled out what looked like a pizza box. He jogged up to the front door of the trailer and knocked. After a few moments of silence, he called into the house, “At least take the pizza!”

Eddie couldn’t hear what Max said in response but he watched Harrington shake his head and put the pizza down on the doorstep. Then, watched him all the way back to his car where he got in, looked back once more at Max’s trailer, then drove off.

A few minutes later Eddie saw one of the lights in the trailer turn on. He waited a few minutes to see if she would take the pizza now that Harrington was gone, but she never did.

Now, Eddie knew this was none of his business. He knew this was something he absolutely should not poke his sticky little fingers in. But there was something about the anger in Max’s eyes, her determination to be misunderstood, that struck Eddie. Reminded him of how he had been when he’d first been dropped off in this trailer park with his uncle after his whole life had been upended.

And maybe a part of him was also hungry for more crumbs of the Harrington conundrum, but maybe, he thought, if Max was going through something none of her friends could understand, maybe he might offer a different perspective.

He slipped out of his own trailer and made his way across the driveway to Max’s. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Almost immediately, Max’s voice returned.

“I thought I told you to fuck off, Steve!”

“Then, it has never been more convenient for me to not be Steve Harrington.” Eddie quipped.

He heard footsteps behind the door before it swung open harshly. Max eyed him up and down like she was trying ro figure out the best way to destroy him.

“You’re that guy that runs Lucas’ stupid club.” She eventually said.

Guess he had been right about her goal being to destroy him. He instinctively recoiled, gasping. “Hellfire is not stupid-“

“You sit in a dark room with a bunch of freshmen and pretend to kill monsters and save the world.” She interrupted before he could start his spiel.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at her, questioning why he even came over here in the first place. He decided to shelve this particular argument for a later date, and forged ahead.

“Whatever, I’m not here to discuss the merits of role playing games.” He waved a dismissive hand.

“Good. Because if you were, I would be telling you to fuck off.”

“Such harsh language.” Eddie mock-chastised.

Max rolled her eyes. “Why are you here, weirdo?”

Eddie shrugged. “Just overheard your little spat with Harrington, was wondering if I should be concerned about the safety of my new neighbor.”

Max scoffed. “Steve? Hurt me? He’d sonner wander into traffic.”

Of course Eddie didn’t really think Harrington would be the type to terrorize girls barely out of middle school. At least not now that he was a high school graduate.

Eddie put his hands up in surrender. “Just checking, you never know what bad actors might be lurking around this town.”

Max didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you mean like the creepy super senior who waited until I was home alone to come talk to me.”

Eddie was really getting sick of her attitude, but also, had to respect her commitment to it. “You know you shouldn’t tell random people that you’re home alone. Stranger danger and all that.”

Max rolled her eyes yet again. “Did you actually want something other than to rag on Steve and piss me off?”

“I was actually wondering if you were gonna eat that?” He pointed to the pizza box.

For a split second Max looked like she wanted to say no and let him take it. Throw it in his face even. But then something else flashed behind her eyes. Something all too familiar to Eddie: Spite.

“I am, actually.” Quicker than Eddie could process her words, she flung a foot out and kicked the pizza box into the trailer and slammed the door.

“Do I need to say it, or do you get the idea?” She yelled through the door.

Eddie hummed theatrically, not willing to show he could be dissuaded so easily.

“Mmmm, I think I need to hear it one more time.”

He imagined her slightly shocked expression behind the door for the beat she took before yelling, “FUCK. OFF.”

Eddie saluted lazily, despite Max’s inability to see him. “Message received, Red.”

And with that, he hopped the steps down the porch of the Mayfield trailer and made his way back to his own, somehow with even more questions regarding his most recent fixation than before.

Part 5

[wheneverfeasible]

Bullshit (part 3/3)

Third and final part of my angsty Steddie “Bullshit” story where Steve changes himself to try to keep Eddie’s love. I swear the happy ending is finally here everyone! Please put the pitchforks and torches away!

I hope it lives up to expectations and thank you everyone for showing such a keen interest in my story. This final part is LONG and dialogue heavy but hey, at least you finally get the fluff.

Part 1 || Part 2

-

It had been two weeks.

Which, sure, wasn’t the longest they’d gone without seeing each other before due to their lives being hectic, but it had been the longest they’d gone without even so much as a quick goodnight phone call since they finally got together. Steve’s hand had hovered over the phone every night, wanting to call Eddie and apologize and promise to do better, but he was too much of a coward.

Because, you see, as long as they weren’t talking, Steve could still pretend that they were together. He knew though that the moment his resolve crumbled and he called Eddie, or Eddie finally had enough and called him, that it would be over. Eddie would officially break up with him and this time Steve didn’t know how he was going to pick up the pieces.

He loved too much, too quickly, too earnestly. But it was never enough. It was always just bullshit and he didn’t know how to stop it from being bullshit. The first time he hadn’t taken Nancy’s own needs into account, had been too caught up in his own trauma to realize that she needed more than just to pretend that nothing had happened and move on from what couldn’t be changed.

Neither had been in the wrong, of course, both dealing with trauma and guilt in their own way, but in the end they had simply been too incompatible. He hadn’t been what she needed and she hadn’t been what he needed. They couldn’t change that, not even back when that spark between them still burned in an ember. But who they were simply couldn’t change to be what the other needed, or deserved.

So then he tried to change, for Eddie. Once Eddie and he got together, it was obvious they were too different. Their friends had commented on it enough, and then when Steve changed to be worthy of Eddie, they commented on that too. But Steve was fine with changing. He loved Eddie enough to become what would make Eddie happy. He’d do anything to make Eddie happy.

Except he failed. He failed and now he had gone two weeks without speaking to his boyfriend who probably hated him now.

Their friends wouldn’t tell him anything either, not that he really wanted them to know of his failure. Only Robin knew because she had been the first person he had called when Eddie had ran away from him when it became obvious Steve wasn’t good enough.

Robin, who had threatened to make Eddie’s balls into earrings, had muttered about how she’d always known he was trouble, but Steve also remembered how happy Robin had been when she discovered she wasn’t alone. She and Eddie had gotten on like a house on fire, bickering like they’d been siblings all along, and it had been so nice to have both his soulmates so close to him and each other.

He couldn’t let Robin hate Eddie because of Steve’s own failings. So he talked to her, told her it was fine, told her not to hate Eddie just because Steve couldn’t be what he wanted, though that only seemed to make Robin worse.

Until a few days ago.

She had suddenly returned with a smile on her face, and though she seemed impatient at times, she had at least stopped threatening bodily harm towards Eddie. She stopped bringing Eddie up entirely, actually, though she looked like she wanted to say something more than once.

Normally, Steve would have pried it out of her. It would have been easy too. A flash of wide eyes, downturned lips, tilted head, a soft whine to her name, and she’d be spilling state secrets to him…though he already knew all the state secrets that she knew. But she couldn’t hide from her soulmate. Ever since that first bathroom confessional, they were never very good at keeping secrets from each other.

Steve was too tired for that now. He just wanted Eddie. But Eddie didn’t want him.

Because he was bullshit.

Steve was curled on his couch, Dio blasting from the music system, the fancy new CD player rotating the shiny disc over and over again on repeat. Eddie had said he preferred vinyls, so Steve tried to only listen to vinyls when he was around, but Steve enjoyed the way he could set the new CD technology on repeat without having to get up. It let him wallow for longer.

Robin had been by earlier, though she seemed jumpier than normal, constantly looking at her watch. She’d finally jumped out of Steve’s bed they were lounging in and said she had to go about an hour ago, stuttering excuses and refusing to meet his eyes.

He wondered if Robin was beginning to realize he was bullshit too.

He couldn’t blame her. They didn’t really have much in common either. It was only trauma bonding that tied them together, or at least that’s what she had called it a few nights after everything to do with Starcourt, when she’d biked all the way to Loch Nora and pounded on the door until a bewildered Steve had answered.

She’d thrown her arms around Steve then, and he’d realized she’d been crying, and she kept whispering over and over “you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe” as though she needed to reassure herself. Steve had at first thought she was talking about herself, but then he realized she was talking about him.

That particular realization had been electrifying. No one had ever really checked up on him before. But apparently Robin had been unable to sleep, plagued by nightmares of what the Russians had done to Steve, plagued by the what-if’s of Steve not making it out of the underground bunker. It was the first night they slept in the same bed together, but it wasn’t the last.

She’d told him that they were trauma bonded, them and the rest of the group, that no matter how different they were, they would always have each other’s back. That was also the first night she’d called him her soulmate though, making certain he knew she meant it Platonic with a capital ‘P’ and nothing else. Steve realized that it didn’t make it any less important.

But maybe that had been a lie too.

Maybe Robin was beginning to realize that they were too different. That Steve would never be good enough for anyone. Not good enough for his family, not good enough for Dustin, not good enough for Nancy, not good enough for Eddie, and not good enough for Robin. Always wanting, always worthless. Always bullshit.

It was during this spiral that a very polite, though loud, knocking came from the front door. He supposed they had to be loud to be heard over the sounds of Dio, which he had cranked up to try to drown out the thoughts in his head.

Steve rubbed at his eyes, which felt crusty from dried tears, sitting up from where he had collapsed after showing Robin out the door. He’d think that it was Robin returning for something she forgot, a regular occurrence, but she rarely knocked anymore. She typically just let herself in with the spare key he’d given her. He’d given one to Eddie too.

Pushing thoughts of his maybe-still-his-boyfriend away as he hit pause on the music, Steve shuffled towards the front door. He gave a brief tug of his Iron Maiden shirt, which was actually one of Eddie’s, to attempt to make his rumpled appearance look a little more presentable, and then he was swinging the door open to reveal…

Eddie???

Except…it wasn’t an Eddie he recognized. No, this Eddie was wearing an orchid pink polo and light khakis, and…were those Oxford shoes he was wearing?? With a matching belt??? His hair was smoothed fully back and clasped into a professional looking bun and not a single ring adorned his fingers, made obvious by the way Eddie held up a bouquet of roses. Even the ever present pick necklace from absent from Eddie’s neck.

Steve gaped.

“Hello, Steve,” Eddie said, even his voice seemed softer, less wild, and his smile was the sort Steve had seen his father’s business associates give to each other when a good deal had gone through. Happy, pleased, but restrained. Nothing like the manic grins he was used to from Eddie.

“E-Eddie?” he croaked out, absolutely in disbelief. Behind Eddie, Steve could see a station wagon parked where Eddie’s van should be. “What’s going on?”

Eddie held the flowers out towards Steve, who automatically took them. He couldn’t help but give a bemused smile even as he brought them up to smell. Eddie took a deep breath, indicating the foyer with a small motion of his hand.

“Sorry, but may we talk inside?”

This strangely polite version of Eddie was making Steve feel weirdly uncomfortable, so used to the exuberance that normally surrounded the other man. He took a step back, however, because it was Eddie. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest at seeing Eddie again, even if he looked different.

Steve closed the door behind Eddie after the other man stepped forward, though not before wiping his shoes off on the doormat, which Steve could not recall Eddie ever doing before. He felt like he had somehow fallen into an alternate dimension, and not of the Upside Down variety. Maybe that would have been better; he knew how to handle that kind.

“Um…let me put these in water?” Steve said, though it sounded more like a question, at a loss for what was happening right now.

“Of course, sweetheart. Do you mind if I put on the game?”

Sweetheart.

Steve felt a hopeful flutter in his chest and gut at the use of an endearment. Sure, Eddie was no stranger to using such terms in retaliation to bullies or anyone else he disliked, but that was not the tone Eddie used just now. No, he used the tone he always used with Steve, making Steve hopeful towards the idea that he hadn’t actually ruined everything yet.

He was so caught up with that fact that it took him a moment to process the second part of what Eddie said. “Uh…yeah, sure?” he answered with a question again, brows furrowing, as he wondered if he had somehow forgotten that he was supposed to host Eddie’s campaign night that night.

He hurried quickly to the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in, suddenly worried about how his home looked. He hadn’t been expecting to host Dungeons and Dragons, didn’t have the snacking station set up or anything. Did he have enough beverages? Who all was coming tonight? He felt his hosting anxiety start climbing at these questions, as well as the worry that this was a test.

If he failed tonight, would Eddie finally be done with him?

Steve was just settling the vase full of roses on the counter when he heard…was that…?

“Oh come on, Coach! Take him out!” Eddie’s voice filtered through to him as Steve slowly made his way towards the living room. “That asshole is making Gochnaur look like a capable shortstop!”

Was Eddie…watching baseball?

Did Eddie know about John Gochnaur?

What was happening right now?

Steve stood in the doorway leading into the living room, watching with a completely gobsmacked expression as, yes, Eddie was currently watching baseball and giving correct commentary. Steve hadn’t even known Eddie knew what a shortstop did.

Eddie glanced over at Steve and his annoyed expression smoothed into one of happiness. He pat the couch next to him invitingly and Steve could do nothing but walk forward and take his place at Eddie’s side. His furrowed brows shot up into his hairline when Eddie pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he started rattling off statistics of the players on screen like he did monsters during his DnD campaigns as he indicated the probability of home runs and errors.

“What the hell is going on right now?” he mumbled mostly to himself. This was…this was weird. He wasn’t sure he liked this. No, he knew he didn’t like this. Whatever this was, it felt wrong. He turned his head to frown at Eddie who still looked caught up in the game. In sports.

“Eddie, what…” Steve shook his head slightly, wetting his lips. “Why are you watching baseball? Why are you wearing those clothes? You just left the other days and now you look like a completely different person. What is going on?”

Eddie glanced over at Steve, his own brows high into his bangs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Steve. I’m wearing perfectly normal clothing. And sure, it’s only baseball, but it’s not like it’s basketball season yet.”

Eddie paused then, his expression settling into a neutral look for only a moment before slowly morphing to one of pained regret. He sight and hung his head for a moment before grabbing the remote and muting the screen. He then released Steve just enough to turn slightly on the couch to better face him.

“I’m sorry for leaving though, baby. There’s no excuse for just running out on you like that. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just…I had a lot on my mind and I needed to figure some things out. But don’t worry, Stevie. I have it all figured out now and now I can be an even better boyfriend to you,” he finished with a wide grin that looked nothing like his typical crazed charming smile. It looked more like the grins he used to make before he felt comfortable around Steve and the others.

Charming, yes, but not right. Not Eddie.

But Eddie was leaning forwards, brushing one of the limp pieces of his hair that he hadn’t even bothered to style these past two weeks—hell, had barely had the energy to even wash—back behind his ear. He then pressed forward to lightly kiss the tip of Steve’s nose with a smile, and Steve could only smile back. Eddie was here, with him, and that was all that mattered.

Except…

Except.

Eddie’s pink polo was still in his line of vision. It was Eddie, but it wasn’t Eddie at the same time. He looked nothing like the metalhead he loved. Not that there was anything wrong with what he wore now, of course, and honestly seeing Eddie in a polo was kind of hot, but…it wasn’t him.

Steve pulled back, his smile turning back into a small frown. His eyes tracked over Eddie’s outfit. Sure, Eddie looked nice in it, but it was incredibly wrong. The khakis even looked pressed. “But seriously, Eddie, what the hell are you wearing?”

Eddie looked down at his own clothing with a look of not understanding before looking back up at Steve. “I honestly don’t know what you mean. I’m wearing clothing. A shirt and pants I’ve even got underwear on underneath. Though I can wear a lot less of it if you prefer, baby,” he added in that sultry voice that never failed to get Steve going. He’d once accidentally slipped into it while DMing when he narrated a succubus type NPC and Steve had popped a boner right then and there at the table.

And Steve’s dick made a valiant effort to respond now actually, but everything was wrong and Steve didn’t like that. He continued frowning at Eddie.

“Why are you wearing a polo?” he asked more directly, because he knew from experience with Dustin and Robin and even Eddie himself that sometimes you just have to ask directly if you wanted a proper answer. And seriously. A polo?? “Where are your regular clothes. And why are you watching baseball?”

“I like baseball,” Eddie replied easily with a shrug. “It’s not as bad as I thought. I like that the players can have their little music intro. And I wear polos now, they’re surprisingly comfortable.” He gave Steve a gentle smile. “If you don’t want to watch baseball, we can do something else. You wanna put on some music? Have you heard Debbie Gibson’s new song? Truly heartbreaking. I bet it’s on the radio right now.”

Steve just gaped. It was like Eddie was speaking an alien language even though he knew that all that was English and he understood each word separately. All together though, coming from Eddie’s mouth? Yeah, nothing made sense.

“Eddie,” he breathed, slowly reaching out for Eddie’s left hand and feeling another swoop of wrongness at the lack of rings there. “When you said you wanted to put on the game, I thought you meant a campaign. And Debbie Gibson? Babe, you’re in a metal band. Debbie Gibson isn’t cool.”

“Hey! You treat Deb with respect. Girl’s got an excellent voice,” Eddie said with indignation. Steve could only roll his eyes because yeah, he knew that, but Eddie saying something like that? Unreal. It was Eddie’s next words that made him freeze solid, however.

“Besides, I quit the band. Dungeons and Dragons too. Figured I’m too old for that nerd shit. I’m thinking about getting a real job now anyways, so I don’t have time for all that anymore. Actually, do you want to go through the classifieds together with me later? Gareth said he’d try to get me an in with his dad’s company, but it’s better to be prepared.”

Eddie quit the band? Quit Dungeons and Dragons? Was talking about a corporate job? What. The. Fuck.

Steve scrambled up from the couch, his fingers moving up to squeeze the bridge of his nose before both hands settled on his hips as he stared at Eddie in disbelief. “You love Corroded Coffin. And Dungeons and Dragons! Why the hell would you stop doing something you love?”

Something flashed across Eddie’s expression then, something pleased like Steve had said exactly what Eddie had hoped he would, but it was gone the very next instant leaving Eddie simply staring up Steve with wide and imploring eyes.

“But Steve,” he said, and his tone was too earnest that it made Steve pause. “I love you more, and you don’t like those things. So I’ll change, for you.”

The words were like a bucket of ice water thrown back in his face. He couldn’t move, couldn’t react. Couldn’t resist when Eddie reached out and grasped his hand to pull him back to the couch he’d just vacated, pulling him against his side once more.

“You changed for me, so now I’ll change for you,” Eddie said like the solution was obvious. Steve mutely shook his head, but Eddie’s smile was toothy and sharp and so much like the smile he was used to that he couldn’t speak. Which was just as well, since Eddie wasn’t done. “You changed who you were because you loved me so much and didn’t want to lose me. Is it so preposterous to imagine that I love you so much that I’m willing to do the same?”

Yes! Steve wanted to exclaim, wanted to shout and shake Eddie, because of course Eddie didn’t love Steve the same way that Steve loved Eddie; no one ever did.

Well, except maybe Robin. They were Platonic soulmates after all. He knew that he had started doubting her earlier, which made him a little nauseous to do actually, but she had been the only one so far who had never abandoned him. Who seemingly cared for him the same way he cared for her.

But to think he could possibly be blessed with someone who loved him, romantically, that same way? To think that he might be lucky enough to have that sort of fabled love twice? Impossible! Because…because he knew. He knew he wasn’t good enough. He wouldn’t ever be good enough. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t—

“Do you know why I love you, Stevie?” Eddie murmured, cutting off Steve’s thoughts and causing him to stiffen beside him. It wasn’t like he was unused to these declarations; Eddie never really shied away from telling Steve he loved him, though Steve had to fight back the inane temptation to make a bitchy little joke about it like he’d had before, teasingly crediting his ass or how pretty he looked on his knees. Eddie had given them as reasons enough for his love when they’d joked around before, just as Steven had teasingly cited his love as being because of how skilled Eddie’s fingers were, or the talent of his mouth.

He could sense, however, that trying to trivialize the moment would not go well this time. No, Eddie was looking at him earnestly once more, was reaching out again for Steve’s hand to hold and clutch between both of his against his chest. He thankfully did not seem like he was expecting an answer from Steve.

“It’s because you thought about my safety first, back then, at Skull Rock, even after I’d shoved a broken bottle at your neck. Even though we ran in two totally different circles, you immediately put me as a priority. It’s because you didn’t hesitate to jump into the water, not in belittlement of Wheeler and Buckley for being girls, or me for being…well, me…but simply because you were aware of your own qualifications and knew you were best for the job.

“It’s because, at the first real opportunity of being relatively alone with me, you immediately thanked me for coming to help you after you’d been pulled under, like there had been any other option. As if it wasn’t a given that you deserved to be made a priority too.”

Eddie paused then, thickly swallowed as his eyes closed momentarily. “Though you totally saved your own ass there, tearing that bitch apart with your bare hands. You’re a total badass, sweetheart,” he rumbled, the heat of hungry appreciation in his voice. “Wrapped up in soft yellow sweaters and ridiculously styled hair.”

Opening his eyes to look at Steve again, Steve could see some of that (still surprising) hunger lingering. Because yeah, he knew now that Eddie had near creamed his pants when he’d pulled an Ozzy with the demobat, and even though he questioned his boyfriend’s tastes at time, he was also always so gleeful to know that Eddie thought him sexy as hell.

But it was more than just that, and Steve felt his heart hammering away beneath his ribcage as Eddie kept going on, singing his praises as if Steve was truly something to be admired.

“It’s because,” Eddie continued saying, bringing Steve’s hand up to lightly nuzzle against his knuckles, “you always put everyone else first, even if you hide it behind your bitchy little snide words. Because you care about everyone else and would throw yourself directly into the path of danger to protect them. Protect us. And more than that, you take care of everyone around you, whether they show their gratitude or not. Dustin wasn’t wrong when he talked about how great you are.

“It’s because…” Eddie drew in another shuddering breath, his eyes wide and deep with emotion. “It’s because, when you look at me, you see me, not just another trailer trash failure who couldn’t even properly graduate high school. You see someone worth loving.”

“Eddie,” Steve broke in then with a cracked voice, his guilt unable to keep him quiet. “You were right about me, though. I was a douchebag. Even about you I was an asshole until everything went down. I called you a freak, and I didn’t try hard enough to stop Tommy from attacking you or the others, and I only cared about myself back then. I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said with a shake of his head. “I won’t deny past dickishness, but I’m not so innocent either,” he pointed out. “I held my own prejudices, my own selfishness. I ostracized Lucas for daring to like sports, I nearly abandoned my bandmates the first time I thought I could make it solo, and I continually ran away when things got tough or hard, try as hard as I did to pretend otherwise.”

Eddie released Steve’s hand from one of his own so that he could snake it behind Steve’s neck to pull him in for a gentle kiss. Steve melted into it, terrified Eddie would eventually leave him still, while also taking great comfort in the kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, that much he was certain.

“You love with your whole heart, Stevie,” Eddie whispered when he finally pulled away. “I will never be able to apologize enough for taking advantage of that, for not realizing what was going on.” He dropped his gaze to the Iron Maiden shirt Steve was wearing, sliding his hand from Steve’s neck to his chest. “The fact that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough exactly as you are will always haunt me.”

Steve didn’t want Eddie sad. He didn’t want Eddie to blame himself for Steve not being enough. He couldn’t get the words out though, not when Eddie looked so utterly heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry, baby. And I’m so sorry for leaving. I just…I realized what I did to you and I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

Steve was horrified by the tears that began flooding Eddie’s eyes, causing him to reach out with his own freed hand pull Eddie in by his polo for another kiss. He didn’t understand what was going on, but…but…

Was Eddie truly not upset with him?

“Christ, baby,” Eddie murmured against his lips. “I love you in your polos. I love you listening to your own music in the car, the way your hair flops about as you jam out to Queen and Wham! and even Cydni fucking Lauper. I love how passionate you get about sports, the way you fuss over Henderson and the others, the way you call out other people’s shit. I love all of you, not in spite of you.”

Eddie pulled back to look properly at Steve, and this time it was Steve with tears brimming in his eyes. Everything Eddie said was like a revelation because the tone of Eddie’s voice, the look in Eddie’s eyes…he meant them.

“But…we’re so different,” he protested, because how was he supposed to accept that when they were nothing alike? Certainly Eddie had to have some regrets, or wish for some changes.

“Steve,” Eddie said on a near whine. “Of course we’re different. We’re different people.” He shook his head suddenly, taking a deep breath. He then reached out and caught Steve’s chin to force him to look at him, catching his eyes with his own. “Do you love me any less for being different than you?”

“No!” Steve yelled aghast. How could Eddie ever think that?

“Then why do you think I would ever love you less for the same?”

Steve opened his mouth, ready to protest again, except…except he didn’t really have an answer to that. Not beyond the fact that he would always be less than. Less than Eddie, less than the kids, less than everyone else he ever cared about.

Except…

Except.

The way Eddie was staring at him now, the way Eddie’s own pain reflected in his dark brown eyes, didn’t make Steve feel like he was lesser. Eddie had never made him feel lesser, actually. Eddie had instead made him feel like…like he mattered. Like he was something worth cherishing. Like…like he was loved.

“I…I don’t know,” Steve admitted, voice cracking, and the tears he’d been keeping at bay slowly spilled over and slid down his cheeks.

Eddie cupped his jaw with both hands then, and though his tears didn’t fall, he sniffled in a way that revealed that it was a very near thing. “I love you so much, baby. I was so ecstatic that you loved me too, that you seemed to be willing to take interest in the things I loved, that I didn’t realize I never did the same. I thought you were trying to figure out who you were, I never noticed that you stopped being you.

“I don’t want you to be just another metalhead who likes everything I like. I want you to be your own person, to like the things you like even if I don’t like them. I want to meet you in the middle of who we are, not a compromise, but as a sign of our love. I’ll take you to metal concerts and you can take me to sports games, even the ones with laundry baskets,” he gently teased. “Any of them, I don’t care. As long as I’m with you doing things you love, I’ll be happy. Because you make me happy, sweetheart.”

Steve’s eyes darted away, eyes catching on the screen where one of the players just stole a base and made themselves that much closer to winning the game, before looking back at Eddie. He didn’t see anything false in his expression, only genuine, hopeful sincerity. Like he truly meant his words.

“I’m fine doing whatever you want,” he mumbled. “You don’t need to sacrifice anything.”

“Baby,” Eddie implored. “It’s not a sacrifice to be with you. You’re so perfect for me, just like you are. Like you truly are. I fell in love with you not because of what you can give me, but because of who you are. I never thought you were actually trying to change to be who you thought I wanted you to be. Because I just want you, baby. If you still want me.”

“Of course I want you,” Steve murmured immediately, his hands moving to claps at Eddie’s forearms. “I’ll always want you.”

Eddie grinned at him, though it was still emotional. He at least managed to keep his tears at bay, blinking rapidly until there wasn’t fear of them falling anymore. He leaned in then to press a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead, his thumbs lightly stroking over Steve’s cheeks. “And I’ll always want you. Hell, baby, I’d marry you right now if it were legal.”

That got Steve’s attention.

He pulled back again, pulling Eddie’s hands from his face to stare at his boyfriend with wide eyes. Again there was only sincerity in Eddie’s gaze, and patience, as he let Steve process and work through his words. To understand just how much Eddie meant it.

Eddie loved him. He knew this of course, but…hell, they hadn’t been dating all that long, all things considered, and he’d once heard Eddie denounce marriage as just another conformist expectation used to take your individuality away, but here was Eddie saying he would marry him if given the chance. He knew Eddie wouldn’t say something like that unless he truly meant it too. Eddie loved him.

“But…we’re so different, Eddie,” he repeated in barely more than a whisper. “A-and I don’t want you to quit your band or Dungeons and Dragons or anything like that for me. I don’t want you conforming for me.”

Eddie just grinned again, his expression so full of love for Steve that it made Steve almost physically ache. “And I don’t want you changing for me,” he simply said, and…and maybe Steve was starting to get that, but…

“But you were so happy when I started listening to metal, and not all of it is bad,” Steve admitted. “I actually liked some of it. More than I thought I would.”

“I was happy,” Eddie admitted right back, letting out a soft sigh. “I was happy to share something with you, happy to help you develop your interest since I thought it was something you wanted. I didn’t mean to push it on you. I was just…I thought that if we had a shared interest like that, you wouldn’t decide I was too much. When you started dressing like this…”

Eddie moved to lightly tug at the hem of Steve’s shirt. “I had been so terrified that you would realize you could do better than someone like me,” he whispered. “Having you not be put off by the way I dressed, by the music I liked, by anything I liked made me happy because it calmed my fears that I’d scare you off or something, that you’d move on to greener and better pastures.”

And that was just not right. Better than Eddie? Someone like that simply didn’t exist. And all because Eddie liked a certain kind of music, or dressed a certain way? Absolutely not.

“Eddie,” Steve breathed, and this time it was him reaching out to cup Eddie’s cheek to make him look at him properly again. “You’re so amazing, Eddie. How in the world could someone better than you exist? You’re a fucking hero, man. And don’t say you’re not,” he said firmly when Eddie opened his mouth to say just that, like he always did when it got brought up. “You are. You’re brave and selfless and literally out your life in the line to protect others. You’re badass, baby. Just like me,” he grinned in tease.

Eddie softly snorted, placing his hand over Steve’s on his cheek so he could hold it as he turned his head slightly to kiss the palm. “You are a badass,” Eddie agreed. “And you’re sweet too, even though you deny that too. I love you so much, and I should have paid more attention to why you were suddenly into all the same things I was instead of just being happy to share them with you.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand, placing another soft kiss to his palm before trailing his lips into gentle kisses against his fingertips. “And I should have done more to meet you halfway. I should have been doing this from the start,” he admitted, indicating the muted TV. “You were always willing to join my hobbies but I never even offered to join yours. I’m truly very sorry, baby.”

“Please stop apologizing,” Steve complained. “I forgive you, okay? It’s just…you’re…” Steve swallowed, making himself actually stop and consider Eddie’s words, their meaning, their truth. “I’d love you even if you always hated sports,” he said softly, a small light of understanding settling over him. Because if he could love Eddie without needing Eddie to like everything he liked…

“Then can’t I love you even if you hate the things I like?” Eddie murmured, as if finishing his thought for him. “I don’t need you to be a carbon copy of my interests, baby. I love you for you, Steve. I’ve missed your polos and your preppy look,” he grinned. “It’s hot.”

Steve flushed slightly at that, Eddie’s eyes telling him again just how truthful those words were. He hadn’t ever once considered that Eddie actually liked that part of him, not when Eddie always wore dark clothing and looked the way he did. They were so different…

His eyes moved once more over Eddie, taking in that ridiculously pink polo and khaki pants, so unlike the things Eddie would wear but so similar to something Steve would. And…yeah, okay, that was hot, but he didn’t want Eddie to wear it all the time because it just wasn’t him. If Eddie wanted to then of course he’d never say anything about it, but he would miss the way his metalhead usually looked. Like…the way Steve looked now, while Eddie…Eddie looked like how he would have normally dressed.

Because Eddie said he would change for Steve, would give up the things he loved, just to keep Steve happy. But Steve didn’t need that to be happy. He was happy just to have Eddie, exactly the way he was, without Eddie pretending to be something he wasn’t. He didn’t want Eddie to change for him, even though…yeah he would like to be able to share his own interests with Eddie sometimes. And maybe…

Maybe, if Eddie had started dressing like that gradually, started expressing interest in Steve’s hobbies slowly, he wouldn’t notice how much Eddie had been changing to try to fit in with him. Maybe he would have just assumed Eddie was genuinely branching out his own interests because he felt safe enough to do so without being ridiculed, like…like Steve had slowly done.

But Eddie had appeared so drastically changed that Steve couldn’t help but rebel against it, couldn’t help but clock it as wrong, could only see it for what it was:

Bullshit.

Steve grinned suddenly at that revelation. A bright happiness began filling him until he felt like he was full of fizzy soda and Pop Rocks. He realized that it was bullshit, but he wasn’t. What was bullshit wasn’t his love, or his inability to be exactly like Eddie, but the fact that he tried to be someone he wasn’t. Him trying to change who he was was bullshit. Because Eddie?

Eddie loved him anyways. Eddie loved him even if he was an ex-jock prep who cared about his appearance maybe a little too much, who cared about keeping his home and car clean, who listened to popular catchy music on the radio simply because it was fun. Eddie had fallen in love with Steve because of who he was, not who he could change himself into becoming.

Eddie loved him. And love like that could never be bullshit.

When Steve finally looked Eddie in the eyes again, truly looked and saw and heard everything Eddie had been trying to tell him, he felt tears escape down his cheeks again but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Because he got it now. He understood. Eddie hadn’t wanted him to change, he had just been supporting Steve in what he thought Steve wanted.

“I’m such an idiot,” Steve wetly laughed, throwing his arms around Eddie to bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Hey now, don’t insult my husband like that,” Eddie admonished, but his words sounded wet too as his own arms moved to wrap around Steve’s back and hold him close.

“We’re not married yet, asshole. You didn’t even ask me,” he pointed out with a giddy roll of his eyes.

“Right, right, silly me,” Eddie said, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice. “Guess I better go buy a ring first. And ask Buckley for her blessing.” Eddie drew in a shaky breath before huffing it out in a laugh. “Maybe she’ll let me keep my balls now.”

Steve pulled back with a confused furrow to his brows. He hadn’t told Eddie that his balls were in any danger.

When Eddie caught his expression, Eddie rolled his eyes next. “After I left, I spent probably a week trying to process everything, trying to figure out where I went wrong and horrified with myself for unknowingly encouraging you into changing for me, going over every little thing I fucked up. Then Buckley showed up and read me the fucking riot act.” He shuddered. “She’s terrifying.”

“I told her not to do that,” Steve frowned, though his lips twitched at his boyfriend’s dramatics. Christ, he loved him so much. And Eddie, somehow, apparently loved him just as much.

“Well I’m glad she did,” Eddie said with a small chuckle and shake of his head. “We came up with all this together,” he added with an indication of his clothing and the TV. “She heard my side of things and realized that if there’s an idiot in our relationship, it’s me. And then we came up with this plan to show you why I’d never want you to be someone you weren’t. Figured if I showed up completely changed too, you’d realize why it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Anxiety hit Steve suddenly and he stared at Eddie with wide eyes. “Wait, you didn’t actually quit the band, did you? Eddie!”

“No, no, not really.” Eddie paused. “Mostly.” He gave a little wincing smile at Steve’s fierce glare. “I told them what I was going to do, as well as saying that I may end up actually quitting if that’s what you needed of me. Because I meant it, Stevie,” he added with his own fierceness. “I love you more than I love being in the band or anything else. You’re it for me, hot stuff.”

“You are an idiot,” Steve groaned, and he didn’t know if he should be upset with Eddie, relieved, or insanely happy. He somehow felt all three at once, giving Eddie’s arm a small slap. “But I am absolutely determined to have a hot and talented famous rockstar boyfriend, Munson, so you better not quit. Or I’m dumping your ass for Jeff,” he said with a wicked little grin.

“Betrayal!” Eddie gasped, his hand moving to clutch at his shirt over his heart, falling back against the couch cushions dramatically.

Steve merely rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t keep the deliriously happy smile off his face because this was his boyfriend. This dramatic, goofy, absolute loser of a man. He was so fucking lucky.

“And that station wagon out front?” he asked, eyebrow arching.

“Borrowed,” Eddie grinned, propping himself up with an elbow to look at Steve. “Jeff’s mom’s. Really had to make it authentic, ya know?”

“And the baseball knowledge?”

Eddie laughed at that. “Wayne gave me some pointers. I think he was ecstatic to finally be able to talk to me about sports knowing I would listen. He also says we’re all watching the season finale together.”

Steve just rolled his eyes. “It’s called the World Series, asshole.”

“Kind of pretentious to call it that, don’tcha think, seeing as how it’s only America playing?”

Letting out a huff, Steve crawled over Eddie to look down at him, straddling a thigh as both his brows raised high over his forehead. “You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that. But…” Steve’s expression softened into a small, almost shy smile. “Thank you. For loving me.”

Eddie smiled back up at Steve, settling back against the couch cushions and bringing his arms up to lightly hook over his shoulders and crossing them behind Steve’s neck. “Thank you for letting me,” he replied simply. “Now, will you please go back to my preppy sexy boyfriend who listens to ABBA and complains about bad hair days? I miss him dreadfully.”

Steve felt his happiness bubbling up inside him again, grinning down at Eddie before leaning in to take his lips in a giddy kiss. “Maybe you should take your Iron Maiden shirt back then, right now,” he murmured meaningfully against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie grinned beneath him. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed. “And get this pink monstrosity off too.”

Steve pulled back at that, planting his hand flat on Eddie’s chest to stop him from moving to do just that, causing Eddie to still beneath him. Steve slid his gaze over said pink monstrosity, wetting his lips with darkening eyes.

“No,” he murmured, voice roughened as he slid his gaze back up to Eddie’s widening eyes, a soft pink flush entering pale cheeks. “Keep it on.”

And he did.

At least until it was too ruined to be saved. But they could always buy Eddie another polo later.

Steve’s insecurities weren’t magically gone from one conversation, of course, but it proved to be a great start. There were still moments when Steve felt like he wasn’t good enough, but it helped to know that Eddie felt the same way at times too, that they were both so in love and would do anything for the other person.

After that day, the two worked together to find a new middle ground. Steve still supported Corroded Coffin at all their shows, wearing their shirts and other merch frequently, and even kept his studded leather bracelet that matched Eddie’s own. He went back to wearing his polos in his day-to-day life, however, and styling his hair with near ridiculous amounts of hairspray.

They talked about their hobbies, with Eddie making a mix tape of the metal songs that Steve actually ended up liking, and Eddie even found enjoyment in playing the occasional game of ball with Steve and even Lucas and the others sometimes joined in. (Sure, he mostly liked the way Steve looked all sweaty and flushed with exertion, but he had some genuine fun shooting balls into “laundry baskets” all the same too.)

They made compromises in the movies they watched, the foods they ate, and Steve took on a more passive role during DnD nights. His character decided to strike out on his own, in story, though he would occasionally rejoin the adventurers when their paths crossed, allowing Steve to play when he felt in the mood and sit out when he wasn’t. Steve had even cajoled Nancy into rejoining the game with him sometimes, much to the Party’s (especially Dustin’s) delight.

Eddie never really took to polos for regular wear, though he did wear the occasional Henley and Steve had convinced Eddie to take better care of his hair, helping his boyfriend set up a couple different routines based on the time frame he had to work with before events or daily life, earning numerous compliments on the healthy curls he now regularly sported. Steve loved the mornings where they got to primp together, and even Eddie flushed with happiness when they caught each other’s eyes in the mirror or helped each other fluff their hair.

Eddie also summoned the Party and acted like a drill sergeant as he commanded each of them to give Steve’s car a deep cleaning and detailing, shampooing and vacuuming and waxing the inside and outside until the BMW gleamed like practically new. He also helped enforce the rules about leaving no mess behind, either by forbidding open food containers or by picking up after themselves. Steve was so impressed by it that he couldn’t help dirtying the car a little again by taking Eddie into the backseat after everything.

They took down the posters and flyers and random crap that covered Steve’s walls, though Steve kept up the Black Sabbath and Dio posters, even if he made Eddie straighten them up. He also kept up the Corroded Coffin flag Eddie had made him, though he began adding his own decorations as well through encouragement from Eddie. Eddie even got him a banner for his favorite sports team, hanging it up right next to the Corroded Coffin flag. (Later, when Steve eventually moved out of his parents’ abandoned house, Eddie would cut a swatch of the wallpaper from the wall, framing the bit of plaid for Steve to carrying with them to their eventual shared home.)

Robin was a menace, of course, and continually made passing comments about needing earrings. The threat was not lost on Eddie and he always made certain he showered Steve in praise and confirmed his love for him whenever Robin gave him the stink eye. Steve may or may not sometimes signal when he wanted the threat made, especially around important dates like holidays and anniversaries.

And Eddie did make good on his comment about asking Robin’s permission for a certain question, though in his nervousness and excitement he fumbled actually asking Steve for forever and instead accidentally threw the ring at Steve one night after a dinner he’d tried to make but inevitably burned. They ordered take out and laughed about it, then Steve made certain Eddie never had to doubt his ‘yes’ right there in the kitchen. And living room. And bedroom. And then for good measure in the shower.

Steve always remained a prep, and Eddie always remained a metalhead, but over the years they slowly adopted and adapted bits and pieces of each other’s style, though Eddie couldn’t ever wear a polo to tease Steve without Steve immediately dragging him into bed. Or to the nearest flat surface.

There were days that the insecurities would crop up still, of course, for both of them. These days grew less over the years, the commitment Steve and Eddie felt for each other reflected in the matching rings they wore, exchanged during a small ceremony that, though not legal in the eyes of the law, was no less absolute in their hearts.

Because Steve knew now what those insecurities were, what the voice was that whispered that he would never be good enough for anyone, and he knew what to say when they tried to tear him down. And he would smile when he said it, safe, content, and secure in his and Eddie’s love.

“Bullshit.”

-

As I said before, I am tagging everyone who asked to be tagged, so if I’ve accidentally missed you or tagged the wrong person, I apologize. It’s a lot of people. Heh.

Tagged: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @petalsandpixels @coolgirldad @xxbottlecapx @yesdangerpls @lawrencebshoggoth @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @miss-wright

@brainsteddielyrotted @nerdyglassescheeseychick @ohimamarigold @sofadofax @moss-g0blin @secretly-kait @blossomingblueberries @my-love-of-books @blounette @p0lybl4nkk

@sapphicsforsteve @wearespacedust @mae-liz @stripey82 @tinyplanet95 @0mochiia0 @sunnycycle @jaytriesstrangerthings @hotluncheddie @dragonmama76

@stevieschrodinger @townseleven @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @novacorpsrecruit @mugloversonly @imaginary-maggie-waggie @pointlessmosswitch @fatiguedclown @prazinos

@thedragonsaunt @bookworm0690 @brazenliar @samsoble @wrenisflying @queenie-ofthe-void @breealtair @highqueenhalalie @steddieassheg0es @theintrovertedintrovert

(rest of tags will be in a reblog, did not realize how many I had agreed to lol my bad)

[munsonsmixtapes]

If You Obey, I Might Give You a Treat

Billy Hargrove x Hopper!reader

You try to get over Billy only to end back in his arms

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (f receiving) Jim threatens Billy with a gun, hurt/comfort

special thanks to @the-witty-pen-name for helping me with this!

This series is being discontinued but you are still more than welcome to keep reading!

part one part two

 As you wake up the next morning, you feel refreshed, a weight lifted from your shoulders as your finally kicking Billy and any thoughts about him to the curb. This is your summer and you only have a few more weeks to soak up the Hawkins sun before you have to be back at school. you don’t have any more time to waste on stupid boys. This is your time. 

You put on your best swimsuit, a tiny little yellow thing that Robin and Nancy convinced you to buy at the mall. You stare at yourself in the mirror and just know that Billy will be drooling at the sight of you. You want to show him exactly what he’s missing, what a huge mistake he’s made by not contacting you again. 

Once you’re dressed, you throw on your cover up and head out the door with a newfound confidence. You don’t know why you care so much or why you’re so hellbent on getting Billy’s attention when you don’t even want it anymore. More than anything, you’re just hurt. You’re hurt that he didn’t call you when he seemed to be having a good time. You know he’s a hit it and quit it kind of guy, but you thought that maybe sex with you would be different. That you’d somehow be able to tame the wild beast, but you guess not, 

Billy finally goes back to work, but only because he’s hoping you’ll be there and that you’ll be able to talk. He wants to offer up another go around, but this time at his place when he’s sure that no one will be home. Not only does he want to return the favor for making him feel so good, but he also just wants to hang out with you. He’s only spent time with you once and he sort of, kind of…misses you?

He’d never actually admit that to anyone but himself, but acknowledging it does make him feel a lot better. There’s a weird feeling in his stomach, almost like a fluttering. Holy shit, does he have butterflies? Why does just the thought of potentially seeing you make him all nervous and excited? He usually makes fun of guys who act like this, but you’ve gone and fucked with his head and he hates that. He hates that you’ve consumed every single thought of his since that night in the pool. You’ve gone and made him a fucking pussy and he wonders if you know just how wrapped around your finger he is. 

The pool is crowded when you get there and you think that all of the chairs are taken until you see someone waving you over. It’s Max and El is right next to her, the two of them trying to get your attention with bright smiles on their faces. At least someone wants to see you. 

You wave back before making a beeline for them. Max moves over next to El so you can have your own chair and you set your bag down onto it, pulling out your sunscreen before squeezing some into your hand. Once you’ve got enough, you go to hand the bottle to El, but she’s already applying some to her arm while Max works on her face, the two of them giggling about the whole thing. 

Your heart warms at the sight and you really wish you had your camera to capture the adorable moment. You’re so glad she has someone who's comfortable enough to be herself around. She’s not a normal kid so making friends is even harder for her. She doesn’t always know the proper social cues and can be even more awkward than other kids her age because of it. But Max loves her for who she is and you can see that so clearly. She embraces her and encourages her to be her own person. 

The three of you put on your sunscreen and once theirs is dry, they’re quick to dive straight into the water. Not you, though. You want to be able to give Billy a good show as soon as he arrives. You put your sunglasses on and climb to a new level of unbothered as you read your book, counting down the minutes until it’s time for the shift change. 

He strolls in from the back room and you slowly get up from your seat. You make sure he’s got his eye on your as you take off your cover up to reveal your swimsuit. Out of the corner of your eye, you can practically see him drooling. He’s got a laser focus on you, almost as if he’s a tiger and you’re a baby deer he wants to devour. 

You look perfect, he thinks. It’s like you walked straight out of one of his wet dreams. He wants to take you in the back right now and tear that thing to shreds with his teeth until you’re absolutely naked. And then he wants to go to town against his locker until you’re crying on his cock, moaning his name over and over.

He makes a beeline for you, every step having its purpose. He’s by your side in a flash, plastering on that signature Billy smile that actually makes you feel nothing. His chest presses against your shoulder as he pushes some hair behind it, his lips right by your ear as his hand presses against your lower back. 

“Where have you been, baby?” He asks as he twirls some of your hair around his finger in a flirty manner. You stay strong, stay staring forward, watching your sister and her friend play in the pool, acting like his breath on your skin didn’t cause goosebumps to form on your arm. 

“Busy,” you reply. One word answers make conversation hard, not that Billy is a many of many words anyway. 

“I’ve been trying to reach you.” He’s standing in front of you now so that you’ll look at him, but it’s like he’s not even there.

“Oh, really?” You ask, trying to sound unbothered when what you actually want to do is push him into the pool. 

“Really,” he nods. “Listen-” Just as he’s about to come right out with it, a voice overlaps his. You lean to the side and see Max and El waving you over again, trying to get your attention. 

“This was a really nice chat, Bobby, but I’ve gotta go.” Before he can even register what’s happened, you dive into the pool, not even giving him a second glance. 

“It’s Billy,” he mutters to himself before heading over to his chair. He continues to mutter to himself as he climbs the ladder. That’s the last time he tries to put himself out there. He’s never been this offended by someone blowing him off before. If a girl isn’t interested, he’ll just move onto the next. “Plenty of fish in the sea” or however the fuck that saying goes.

He watches you swimming around with his sister and seeing the two of you laughing does something weird to his stomach. He almost likes what he’s seeing, likes that someone is being nice to her. She hasn’t had many friends since moving to Hawkins so seeing her having so much fun with you and your sister almost makes him feel happy for her. 

Billy knows he fucked up and doesn’t know how to make it up to you. He just wants everything to be okay again. He hates that you were giving him the cold shoulder, almost acting like he didn’t even exist. Fighting with you was fun, but this, this hurts. You’re so upset that you didn’t even bother to look at him nor actually answer his question. He knows that if he actually wants to make it up to you, he’s gonna have to ask for some advice. 

You don’t acknowledge Billy the rest of the day, not even so much as sparing him a second glance. It’s like he might as well not even be there. It’s not like he’s doing his job anyway. He’s reading another book, well, trying to. You’re always in his line of sight and it’s driving him crazy.

He doesn’t even know why you’re so mad at him. He swears this happens with every girl, but he thought you were different. He didn’t actually think you’d be upset with him if he didn’t call. He did try to come see you in person but how was he supposed to know that you weren’t at home?  He would apologize, but that’s not his thing. And besides, you’ll be crawling back to him any minute so he doesn’t see why he needs to. They always come crawling back. 

He calls for adult swim then descends his ladder, on the hunt for his next hook up, but all he can think about is you. He turns to head to the back and sees you and the other girls packing up your stuff. You make eye contact for a brief second then quickly turn away, not wanting to give him any ideas. You sling your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel, leaving the pool and Billy behind. 

-

It seems that your plan worked far better than you could have imagined. He seemed so dejected, just the way you hoped. But a part of you feels bad for being so rude to him. He was just trying to make conversation and you completely blew him off. 

But isn’t that what you wanted? For him to feel the way you did? To be hurt just like you were? So why do you feel so guilty? Why did seeing that pained look on his face feel like a stab to the gut? 

You wipe your thoughts away as you go up the steps to your house, seeing that you beat Jim home. El and Max follow you, giggling about something that you were too in your head to hear. 

You unlock the door and the three of you head inside. The girls go to El’s room while you make a beeline for the shower, wanting to wash the pool water and the chlorine smell off of you. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror as you strip down, wondering what’s wrong with you. They never stay so you have to be the problem, right? You have to have unknowingly done something every time to never get a second date or even so much as a phone call. It doesn’t just happen with the Hawkins boys, but also with the ones at school, so you have to be the problem. 

You always seem to be the one before ”the one.” The one who guys date right before who they’ve found who they’re going to be with forever. And you don’t know why you can’t get someone to stick. 

And maybe that’s why Billy’s rejection hurt so badly. Because you thought you had a shot. But clearly there was some miscommunication so now you’re in pain because you were stupid enough to think that Billy Hargrove would want to be your boyfriend.  

After your shower, you decide that you feel better but not by much. The pained look on Billy’s face stays in your mind and you can’t seem to shake it. You don’t know why you feel so guilty. He deserved that. He’s hurt so many women and you were just giving him a taste of his own medicine. 

Billy deserves to be knocked down a few pegs and you’re sure many others would agree with that. So why are you wondering if he’s okay, staring at the phone that’s on your desk, debating to call and check in. 

You shake your head and get dressed before heading out the door again to go meet Steve and Robin. You really need to hang out with someone so you don't do something stupid. If you stay home, you’ll just do something you shouldn’t and with your friends around, you’re sure to be distracted. 

-

Billy’s standing in front of the door again. He wants to knock, but knows he shouldn’t. He should really go home and stop being such a bother. He swears that he’s going to end up in the hospital if he’s seen there again. 

But of course, his hand betrays him and he knocks, a pit in his stomach as he waits for someone to answer. And of course, just his luck, it’s Jim again. He opens the door wide and gestures for Billy to step inside. 

“Let’s have a chat,” he says and Billy hesitantly heads inside the house, the door slamming behind him. Holy shit, is this where he’s gonna die? 

Jim pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for Billy and he silently takes a seat. He’s not really scared of anything, but there’s something about Jim Hopper that’s so terrifying to him. 

“Whiskey?” Jim asks and as much as Billy  would love some to ease his anxiety, he can’t help but feel like this is a test. 

“Oh, no thank you,” he declines, then watches Jim pour some for himself before grabbing his shotgun. He then heads over to the table and sits down, resting the gun against his thigh as he nonchalantly sips on his beverage. 

“So why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here. I mean, I have a guess, but I want to hear you say it so there’s no confusion. You’re here for y/n, aren’t you?” 

Billy gulps, feeling his mouth drying up as he stares at the gun. So he really is going to die. He supposes if anyone was going to do it, it would be Jim as he’s made his dislike for the man very clear. 

“Yes sir,” Billy nods, scooting his chair back, jumping when Jim’s foot hooks around one of the legs, preventing Billy from moving. 

“As you know,” he takes a long pull from his whiskey tumbler. “My daughters are very important to me. I’m very protective. So when they start seeing someone that I don’t approve of, I get even more protective.” 

Jim rests his hand on the gun and pats it as he takes another sip of his whiskey. As Billy watches the man across from him, he’s writing out his own eulogy because there’s no way he’s making it out of here alive. 

“So just know that if you hurt my little girl,” he raises the gun, pressing it against Billy’s forehead. “Right through your head.” Billy’s eyes widen and the room is now so quiet that he’s sure that Jim can hear him gulp. 

And just when he’s sure that the trigger is going to be pulled and he flinches, shutting his eyes tight. He feels the pressure go away and hears Jim’s loud laughter. 

His eyes shoot open and he’s met with Jim cackling. He’s pointing and laughing at Billy until he lets out a deep sigh. Bill doesn’t know what’s going on, but he’s terrified, like he woke up in a nightmare. 

“I’m just fucking with you,” he says once he sobers up, but Billy’s not so sure that’s true. It seemed like an actual threat rather than a joke like Jim was claiming. 

Billy just stares at him, eyes wide. Jim takes another sip from his tumbler, staring at Billy from over the rim. He doesn’t like the kid, that much is obvious, but if you like him then there must be some sort of good qualities about him that he can’t see. 

He knows all about Billy’s reputation and doesn’t understand why you would even want to spend time with him. He knows that he’s known to sleep around and he swears that if Billy tries something with you, he’s going to commit murder. 

You’re an adult now and he knows that, but he still wants to do what he can to protect you. Maybe he’s being too strict but it’s for your own good. He just wants you to stay his little girl forever. 

“Can I go now?” Billy asks, now desperate to leave. He wants to get the hell out of there and never come back as long as Jim’s car is in the driveway. 

“Sure,” Jim nods. “I think our talk has been pretty productive, don’t you?” Billy just nods then stands up to leave. “Hey,” Jim calls out as Billy’s halfway to the door. 

“Yeah?” 

“You should come to dinner sometime next week. I can get to know you better and y/n would love it.” Billy doesn’t think that’s such a good idea, especially since you seem to want absolutely nothing to do with him. “So don’t plan anything for Friday night.” 

All Billy can do is not before booking it out the door and to his car. Jim heads to the open front door and lets out a chuckle as the kid speeds away in fear. 

-

“You know what, good for you,” Steve tells you as he’s sprawled out on your bed. He sits up and looks you in the eyes, his face softening. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine, perfect, actually.” That’s a lie and both of you know it. You’re much more upset about the whole thing you’ll let on, but you can’t exactly tell him the truth, that you fell for Billy’s bullshit despite Steve’s warnings. You know Steve would be nothing but sympathetic, but you really aren’t in the mood for a potential “I told you so” moment. That would make you feel way worse than you already do.

You’re in front of your full length mirror, wearing a dress you’ve just bought at the mall where you met Steve. It’s short and black and you bought it despite it being like nothing you’d normally wear. But that’s the point. You’re tired of being who everyone wants you to be. You want to experiment with new clothing and makeup and wish the people around you would stop thinking that you’re more innocent than you actually are just because of who your father is.

“You look great,” Steve tells you, his eyes raking over your body. 

“Thank you,” you reply as you turn to him, smoothing out your dress just as the phone rings. 

-

Billy’s pacing back and forth in the kitchen where the phone hangs on the wall. He reluctantly asked Max for your home number and he’s been hyping himself up to actually dial it for the past five minutes. Max is standing next to him, her arms crossed over her chest as if to say that she’s not impressed. 

She’s never seen Billy like this. He’s called girls more times than he can count and he’s never been nervous about it. This just goes to show just how much her brother likes you. She lets out an annoyed sigh then picks up the phone and dials your number that she now knows by heart. As soon as it begins to ring, she hands it to him then heads back to her room. 

Your phone rings on your desk and you assume that it’s just Jim calling to tell you that he’ll be home late so you let Steve answer it. He stands from the bed and reaches for the phone, putting it up to his ear. 

“Hopper residence, Steve speaking,” he answers and you roll your eyes at how corny he sounds. “Hello?” He asks when no one responds. “Hello?” When there’s still no answer, he just hangs up with a shrug. “Must have been a wrong number.”

Billy slams the phone on the receiver and as his blood begins to boil, he reaches for his car keys and makes a beeline for the door. He doesn’t know why he’s so angry that Steve answered your phone. The two of you are friends and have been for a long time. So why is he seeing red over the fact that Steve is over at your house? He doesn’t know, but he’s planning on kicking his ass. 

He’s driving faster than he should, his anger taking over how fast he’s driving. He’s almost flooring it as he turns out of his neighborhood, turning up the tape he’s got playing as loud as it will go. He’s not even thinking about what he’s doing, he just needs to make sure that there’s absolutely nothing going on between you and Harrington.

As soon as he pulls up, he doesn’t even bother to turn the car off or close the door as he hurries up the porch and pounds his fist on the door. You open it in a flash and let out a gasp at the sight of Billy. He’s smoking a cigarette, those damn short shorts hugging his waist and you try to keep your eyes on his face. He shoves his way inside and looks around your house like a madman for your friend. He’s officially gone crazy but he doesn’t even care.

“Where is he?” He spits and you look more confused than angry that he barged into your house without so much as hello. 

“Where’s who?” You ask, genuinely confused as to what’s going on here.

“Harrington.” He says the name in a mocking tone and now you see what all of this is about. He’s jealous. 

“Billy, Steve left. Now if you’ll excuse me-” You’re trying to kick him out, but he’s not leaving so easily. 

He can’t go now when he’s come all of his way, and especially not when you’re wearing that dress. What he would give to have that thing laying over the back of the couch while he fucks you senseless. He’s gotta have you out of it right now. 

He thinks about what he’s going to do for maybe two seconds and before he can stop himself, he’s grabbing you by the waist and pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss. The whole thing makes you dizzy and you can’t even deny him because you’ve wanted this for so long. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against your lips and you can tell that he’s being genuine. He even pulls away to look you in the eye, saying the words again to prove that he really means them. 

He did hurt you, but getting a genuine apology from Billy of all people means the world to you. You love seeing this soft side of him. The side that he only seems to reserve for you. You have no idea how you bring it out of him, but you’re sure that this is the real him. The angry side is all just a facade he puts on to protect himself. 

He’s been hurt so many times throughout his life and he thinks that if he acts like he hates everyone, no one will want to come in. And if he doesn’t let people in, then they can’t leave. It just makes much more sense this way. 

But he wants to let you in. He wants to so badly that it hurts. He knows that you’re different and because of that, he’s learned to trust you. He’d trust you with his life, knowing that you’d protect him. And with that going through his mind, he’s diving in head first even though he’s absolutely terrified. But now he’s opening the door and letting you in. 

His lips find yours again and his tongue slides into your mouth as the kiss gets more heated. His hands slide down your back, grabbing hold of the backs of your legs, picking you up. He carries you to the couch and lies you down on it gently before placing himself on top of you. 

His kisses are searing, his tongue roaming around your mouth like he’s trying to taste every inch of it. This is easily the best make out you’ve ever had to the point where you could do this for the rest of the night and you’d be satisfied. 

Your bodies are a mess of limbs as your hands tangle into his hair as he kisses down to your neck. You feel yourself getting dizzy as his lips do their work. You’re already wet beyond belief and you wonder what his mouth would feel on your cunt. 

You’re desperate to ask him for it but feel shy suddenly. You’ve never actually had to ask for it, the other people you’ve been with have just known what you needed. He pushes up your dress as he sucks on your skin, making your mind feel fuzzy. The dress comes off and is thrown somewhere in the living room. You moan as his teeth bite down on you and he takes that as an invitation to continue as he does it again, harder this time before licking a stripe across it to diffuse the sting.

His lips kiss their way down your body as he pulls your underwear down, sucking on different spots to hear that pretty sound again as he makes his way to your cunt. Your legs are spread wide and Billy feels his mouth watering as he thinks about how badly he wants to eat you out. He’s never done it before because he’s always thought it was gross but he just knows that you’d teach him. 

“Do you want some help?” You chuckle as you sit up and he nods. 

“Please,” he whines. It’s so obvious how badly he wants to do it and you want to help out. 

“On your knees,” you snap and point to the floor in front of the couch. He’s quick to listen and gets down on his knees in front of you. He watches you turn and sit on the cushion in front of him, spreading your legs wide for him. “Now put my legs on your shoulders.” He does exactly what you say and once he’s done, he looks up at you for his next instructions. 

Your fingers thread into his hair again and you grab onto it, guiding his face down to your cunt. “Go for the clit first,” you instruct. “Do what feels comfortable. I trust you. And maybe if you’re good, I might return the favor.” Oh, he’s so up for that challenge.

Billy hesitantly presses a kiss to it, very unsure of what he’s supposed to do. He hears you saying something about his tongue so he flicks it across your clit and your pull onto his hair in response, a whine falling from your lips. He does that a few times then goes in with his lips, sucking on it which makes you whine even louder. 

Once he feels like your clit has gotten enough attention, he moves down to your slit, going straight in with his teeth. He can tell he’s doing it right as your heels dig into his back, your thighs pressing tight against his head. His hands move to rest on your thighs, his nails digging into your skin as he buries his face into your cunt as he continues to use his teeth like he’s done it a million times before. 

He continues his movements as you moan over and over, pulling on his hair as his name falls from your lips. Now that he’s gotten a little taste, he wants to eat you out any chance he gets. It makes him feel so different than penetrative sex does. This is a different way he can be in control and making you orgasm makes him feel better than any other woman has. 

You reach your orgasm, his name falling from your lips once again as he finishes up, trying to lick up every last bit of slick that he can. He then pulls away, resting your feet back down on the floor before sitting back on his heels, waiting for you to tell him that he did a good job. 

“Fuck,” you sigh then grab him by the chin, pressing a kiss to his lips, sticking your tongue into his mouth so you can taste yourself on him then pulling away. “You can do that anytime you want.” 

You stand up from the couch and throw on your dress before offering him your hand. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up and get you out of here before my dad and El get home.” And Billy follows you to the bathroom like a lost puppy, convinced that he’s falling in love with you.

taglist: @spookysace24 @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e

[strangersteddierthings]

Jealousy Looks Different On You

[Part One] ✨ [Part Two] ✨ [Part Three] ✨ [You Are Here]

Steve was a romantic, once upon a time. Twenty-year-old Steve would have swooned at Eddie's words, at the idea that love is enough. However, Steve is not twenty anymore. Steve is thirty-one with a string of failed relationships. He's always been one to fall hard and fall fast and if love truly was enough, Steve would have made it work by now.

Because he loves Eddie, but it's not like he's only loved Eddie. It's not like Steve's been living a celibate life full of longing and pining and sorrow. He'd loved Nancy, back in high school. Candy, his first girlfriend here in Chicago, had his heart for eight months before she moved away; they'd even debated long distance but, in the end, knew it wouldn't work. Sarah, Mary, Savannah; after coming out there was Mark and Dylan. All of whom he loved while still loving Eddie.

What was the point in pining after someone who didn't want him back?

He'd even had a long-term boyfriend, Brian, for two years that Steve thought would be forever, until the breakup he never saw coming. Because Steve never saw them coming. He was in love. Why would he look for signs that his relationship was ending?

"Eddie, I can't. If we don't work out- I can keep going as we are. You're one of my best friends. I know how to manage, it's- we'll be good as we are," Steve says, finally ending his pacing by dropping back onto his spot on the couch.

"I can't," Eddie says, words uncharacteristically soft and quiet.

"What?" Steve asks, voice laced with hurt and confusion, feeling like ice has been poured down his back. What does Eddie mean he can't? Can't what? He braves a look at Eddie to find he looks devastated, eyes wet and his pouty lips downturned.

"I can't," Eddie repeats and it's his turn to stand from the couch, to pace the living room that was once his too. "I- Jesus Christ Steve, you've had fucking, what, years? To accept that- years of thinking we'd never be together. All this time thinking I knew but didn't want you back.

"I didn't get that. I had, fucking hell, I never let myself accept that you might actually want me back. I haven't- I can't learn that we might have a chance and just not take it. How can you ask that of me? You're all I've fucking wanted for-forever, and I can't- I don't- Why didn't you ever ask me if I was interested in you?" Eddie's voice cracks on the last sentence.

And Steve should probably feel bad for Eddie, should understand what he's feeling, but all he feels is angry. It hits quick and fast, and all feelings of ice are gone. "Ask you? Ask you!? Why the fuck would I have done that when you've never, not once since I've known you, hesitated to go after who you want!? You don't hesitate to grab someone and drag them to the dance floor at the bar, you don't hesitate to ask for what you want, don't hesitate to go on and on about all the things you want in a partner; a list, by the way, that I don't fulfill. A list I'll never live up to!"

Steve doesn't remember doing it, but at some point in his rant he's stood again. The coffee table separates them as Steve yells out his frustrations. He doesn't want to be yelling at Eddie, though. The alternative is to cry, and Steve feels his throat grow thick as he finishes in a quieter tone, "You-You throw yourself at everyone who isn't me. Use me to make them jealous so they'll make the first move. How was I supposed to ask you if you'd ever want me when you made it- made it seem like you never would?"

"I- I was trying to make someone jealous enough to make the first move, but it wasn't- fuck, Steve, it wasn't them."

Steve sniffles, trying to will himself to not fully cry, "if that didn't work the first time, why did you think it would work any of the other times?"

"It's not- I wasn't ever expecting it to work. I just- I don't even know what I was thinking, much less expecting. But Steve, please, please believe me. I want to be with you. Please, give me, us, a chance," Eddie begs.

Jesus Christ. How often has Steve daydreamed about this? About Eddie showing up and confessing and begging Steve to give him a chance? A pathetic amount, surely, yet Steve can't bring himself to follow the script of his daydream. In the dream, Steve accepts; pulls Eddie into a kiss that makes them both dizzy.

This isn't a daydream, though. This is his life, real life, and Steve has things he won't compromise on now.

"Eddie, I... I want to. I used to dream that we'd get a chance, but I, I have other dreams, too. Ones I'm not willing to give up. Not even for you."

"I'm in," Eddie jumps to say, "whatever you want, whatever your dreams, they'll be mine, too."

Fuck, Eddie's not making this easy, is he? Steve wishes he could believe him. Steve wants to believe him. "I want to buy a house in a small town, or on the outskirt of a bigger city. With a yard, for a puppy."

Eddie is nodding quickly because these demands are easy to agree to. It's the last bit that Steve's not sure Eddie wants.

"The house has to be at least four bedrooms. Because I want to be a dad. I want kids."

Eddie doesn't nod to that, which Steve was expecting. He shouldn't be disappointed and yet.

"I never... I've never thought I'd be a dad," Eddie says slowly.

"I've always wanted to be one."

Eddie makes the first move, stepping around the coffee table that separates them, to get close to Steve. "I know. Sweetheart, I know," he says, reaching out for Steve, and Steve lets him. Eddie reaches out with his left hand to grasp one of Steve's hands, and the other hand reaches up to Steve's face. Steve closes his eyes, accepting, and Eddie cups his cheek so tenderly it forces a hiccupped sob from Steve, and Eddie swipes away the tear that fell when he closed his eyes.

"I know you'll be an amazing dad. And if you're with me, I think I'll be an okay one."

Steve sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes snap open to look at Eddie. Both their eyes are wet. Steve searches his face, looking for what, he doesn't even know. A sign that Eddie means what he says, probably, but it's not something Steve will be able to find just from looking.

It's only something Steve can fully accept and believe by Eddie proving it.

"Please, Steve. I'll make every dream you have come true if you let me. I love you."

Steve swallows thickly before saying, "You can't flirt with other people, to try and make me jealous. It's fine if you flirt like you used to, harmless and playful, but not- You can't do that anymore. I won't- I can't watch that again."

"Why would I even want to, if I have you?"

What a fucking charmer. "I- Okay. Okay. We have... we have a lot more to talk about, but if you're serious-"

"As a demobat bite."

"And we'll- we'll have to take it slow. Because I can't- I can't just dive in because if we don't work, I can't-"

"As slow as you need," Eddie promises, and Steve doesn't think he's ever seen Eddie looks this serious.

"Okay. Let's try." Steve can't bring himself to say 'I love you' back, even though Eddie knows. For real, now. It's what got them into this situation but saying it now feels big. Too big, too fast, too much. There are more conversations to be had and things to plan for before Steve will feel like he can say it again.

Steve expects Eddie to kiss him, but he doesn't. Eddie pulls him into a tight hug, clinging to Steve like letting go will kill him.

Steve holds back just as tight.

-

This is where I'll end it! A hopeful ending for the boys <3

@xxbottlecapx @im-sam-fucking-winchester @novacorpsrecruit @thewickedkat @dreamy-jeans137 @everywherenothere @hangingupinthehallway @estrellami-1 @queenie-ofthe-void @dreamsteddie @acowardinmordor @steviesummer @kinryuuki @genderless-spoon @paperbackribs @steddiecameraroll @yesdangerpls @jackiethevampireslayer @skitchskatchbat @sani-86 @exasperatedsighohmy @tinyplanet95 @chaotic-waffle

[steviewashere]

I love secretly closeted Steve Harrington. I love when he knows himself, knows the truth of his identity, knows that how he views men isn't a fluke. I love secretly closeted Steve Harrington who dates girls and has sex with girls to protect himself, to keep an image, to try and earn an ounce of recognition and respect from his dad.

I love secretly closeted Steve Harrington who recognizes Robin's bravery when she came out. But he keeps his secret to himself for a while longer. Who joins in on the joke of just how bad he is at pulling girls. Who upholds an image as just that, an image.

A secretly closeted Steve who gets frustrated at the projection painted onto him. Steve Harrington the ladies' man. Steve Harrington who gets the girl. Steve Harrington who can get into bed with any girl he wants. He's frustrated and he hates all the assumptions, but he can't shake them, can't explain why—not without revealing himself. But he knows who he is. Knows the type of person he wants.

I love when he's nervous, but still proud. Who, slowly and surely, cements his identity within himself—so it transcends knowledge, it's deeply intertwined within. He goes to Robin first, because he feels as though that's a good first baby step—because he knows for certain that Robin will accept him. And, with minor hesitance, goes to Nancy. And with a long conversation, some tissues, and gentle smiles passed back and forth, Nancy then understands, too.

The last person is Eddie. Which is harder. Which frustrates him further. Because Eddie won't stop asking him about women, won't stop categorizing him as straight, some god among men. He just wants to be Steve Harrington. Not Steve Harrington. Not ladies man, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington who likes men. Only men. Who compensated for years just so he can uphold a safe life for himself, who was threatened constantly (though not directly at him) by what his dad would say about those queers, who covered for himself the only way he knew how.

And though it takes longer, some deep wounds and harsh words about how he isn't experimenting, that his sexuality can't just be decided for him, that he has a right to explore—even if the exploration never amounted to anything—Steve is able to get Eddie's trust. Eventually, again slowly, get Eddie's hand intertwined with his. And even later after that, a shy kiss; his first kiss with a man that aids in solidifying the last, hairline fracture in his whole.

Steve Harrington who is gay and learns over time to be proud of that. But also, closeted Steve Harrington who goes on the journey to get to the end result—I love him so so so much and he means so much to me. And now I need to write him and make this version a reality.

[inthedarknessofnight]

Steve Harrington has OCD. There are days when he can barely hear his own thoughts. Days when he can't focus on anything else but whatever is triggering him. Days when he just wants to crawl out of his own skin.

No one around him gets it. Like, really gets it. He loves having everyone over at his place, loves filling the empty house with joy and laughter he never experienced as a child. But over and over again, he feels like he can't really be present in the moment. Because he gets stuck in a never-ending loop of mental checklists, pinpointing every single item that will need to be cleaned or put back in its place after they leave. Crumbs all over the couch. Henderson touching everything in his general vicinity with greasy, pizza-stained fingers. People walking straight into the house after swimming in the pool. Rug on the bathroom floor always wrinkled and askew. Tiny specs all over the kitchen that only he seems to notice. He knows they're little things. Unimportant, right? A little mess can't hurt you? He knows... He just wishes his brain would get it, too.

And it doesn't just impact him, either. His incessant bitching sets others around him on edge. That's probably the worst part of it all. Nancy used to get so annoyed with him whenever he'd ask her to not sit on his bed in her 'outside clothes'. He's pretty sure Robin hates cooking with him because of all the rules he has in the kitchen, but she usually just sighs and rolls her eyes. Dustin deliberately misunderstands his requests or, better yet, pretends he doesn't hear him at all.

Not Eddie, though. Because Eddie notices. The way Steve seems unfocused at times, like he's somewhere far away. The way his eyes tend to dart around the room. The way his posture changes when someone unknowingly does something that triggers him. He makes little mental notes of all the triggers and makes sure to remember them. So he starts taking off his shoes at the door, placing them on the rack. He cleans up after the kids, quickly wiping the kitchen counter and floor as Steve's busy walking everyone out of the house. He straightens the bathroom rugs. He wipes the floor after taking a shower at Steve's, so that there isn't a single droplet of water to be found anywhere outside the shower cabin. He changes his clothes before lounging around on Steve's bed. It takes Steve some time to notice everything Eddie's been doing to help out with his triggers.

It's a little after midnight, and Steve has finally managed to kick the little dipshits out of the house. He walks back into the kitchen where he is met with the sight of Eddie crouched down, a whisk broom and dustpan in hand. Something clicks then, stopping him in his tracks.

"Wait... How long have you been doing this?"

Eddie freezes then and glances up quickly, looking every bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh, sorry, it's just- I noticed the stuff on the kitchen floor makes you kinda uncomfortable, so I thought I'd help out a bit," Eddie says softly, like he's scared he's done something wrong. Steve feels something warm spread around in his chest, followed by a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes.

"And the rugs? Was that also you?" Steve's voice is shaking now. But he can no longer prevent it. He's about to have a full-on breakdown in front of Eddie Munson.

Of course, Eddie, the perceptive bastard that he is, has already picked up on what's about to happen. He quickly sets the tools aside and straightens up, taking a few strides towards Steve, ducking his head to catch Steve's downcast gaze. To make sure he's okay.

"Hey, Steve, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have overstepped. I'm so sorry," says Eddie, gently placing his hands on Steve's shoulders to offer a reassuring touch. There are now silent tears rolling down Steve's cheeks, but he brings himself to meet Eddie's gaze nevertheless.

"No, no, Eddie, you didn't. It's just- How did you know?" Steve asks, somewhat hesitantly.

"Because," Eddie moves his hands up to cup Steve's face, looking at Steve like he's trying to see straight into his soul, "because I see you, Steve Harrington."

[pearynice]

Have some Steve whump this Thursday afternoon✨

“Mama,” Steve whispers, as she holds his hand up the front steps. “I don’ like the hugs.” He’s in his Sunday best, itchy sweater and stiff pants, shoes that hurt his toes. He doesn’t like days like this. Days where he meets a lot of people he doesn’t know, where they hug him and touch him and press kisses to his cheeks. 

“Hush,” his mom whispers, patting his hand, “they’re being nice, Steven, so be nice back.” 

“I don’ like it.” He says again, and he feels his voice begin to wobble, and he tries to swallow it down, because his dad always gets so mad when his voice wobbles. 

“Steven,” she hisses, her grip tightening around his small fingers, “do not embarrass me.”

And then the door opens. Her grip stays tight, and he stays still as people press their stuffy hugs into his skin. Stays still when tall women smack sticky kisses to his cheeks and when taller men ruffle his hair, swallowing down the wobble in his throat.

He lets it go. 

And, at the end of the party, his mom is happy. Gives him a chocolate, and tells him he’s been good.

So when his mother decorates his room the way she wants, when his protests fall on deaf ears and when his mother’s voice goes cold- when his father signs him up for baseball and football and basketball and swimming, when Steve’s concerns are swept away and his father’s gaze turns stern, when his parents treat him like a doll to be dressed up and passed around, he lets it go. Because his protests, his concerns and feelings, aren’t worth their anger. And those thoughts and feelings and concerns are always so consistently brushed away, like they’re nothing, he eventually learns that it’s not worth the breath. And his mother is so happy when his room looks the way she wants it to. His father puffs up his chest and looks proud when Steve makes varsity his sophomore year. And Steve just wants that to stay.

So boundaries are hard, because he never learned how to set them. His parents’ anger is all he can imagine when he wants to say no. His parents smiles are all he sees when he says yes to what he shouldn��t. He’s blind when others go too far. Can’t hear the difference between acceptable and not. 

Because if it makes him uncomfortable, if it stresses him out, if he doesn’t know how he’s going to manage, he swallows it down. He forces himself to accept it. Because if his parents taught him anything, it’s that no one wants to deal with him when he’s upset. When he’s frustrated over the littlest things. Over the things that other people can handle. And if it will make someone else happy, then he’s to grin and bear it.

So he’d thought he was doing the right thing with Nancy. Thought brushing away his own grief and worries and sadness about Barb is what she needed, what she wanted, because he was doing what everyone had always expected of him. What had always worked- sucking it up. Swallowing it down. Accepting it, so he could focus on her. 

But that’s not what she had wanted, in the end. Said it was bullshit. As if because Steve hadn’t talked to her about it meant he hadn’t felt it. And Steve had almost fought back, almost said his piece, almost let out the bubble of hurt and pain that he’d swallowed down and let grow for so long. 

He hadn’t, though. The bubble stayed trapped. Stayed in his chest where it made it hard to breathe on the worst of his nights. So real it felt physical, felt like if he pressed his hand to his chest hard enough he could feel it under his palm. 

Robin popped it, though. Through the drug-induced haze of Starcourt she’d wheedled her way into his chest like no one before ever had. Let his sadness and his fear and his worries wash over her, and she’d hugged him, and hadn’t made him feel stupid or small when his voice wobbled. She nodded and squeezed his hand at all the right parts, said his parents should go fuck themselves and that he’s better without Nancy, that he’s going to find someone better for him than Nancy.

It’s hard to argue with Robin, especially when she gets that fierce look on her face and squares her shoulders, sticking herself in the mud, immovable. When she says things like they’re fact. 

And after they escape, when people start saying SteveandRobin and RobinandSteve like they’re one and the same, she tells him, firmly, when he’s being a people pleaser. When he’s being a doormat. Asks him again and again what he really thinks and what he really wants, until, haltingly, slowly, he can say all of those things to her. Because he knows she cares. Knows that no matter what he says or how he responds, she’ll be by his side. That she, and she alone, will never be mad if his voice wobbles. 

~~~~~~

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” Eddie says, voice sharp. “Was your plan to just silently resent me over something I had no clue you were mad over?”

Steve grinds his teeth, like he always does when he’s frustrated, something that always sparks a migraine later. “No.” He insists, crossing his arms over his chest, “it just wasn’t a big deal.”

Eddie’s scowl deepens. “Well you’re pissed, so it’s obviously a big deal, Steve.”

But the problem is- it’s not a big deal. If Eddie had just not needled when Steve said he was fine then none of this would be happening. Steve’s anger would’ve blown over just like every other time, and they would be fine.

“Are there other things you’ve been pissed at me for that you never clued me in on?” Eddie’s voice is sharp, sarcastic, but Steve can’t help but cringe at the question. Because of course, of course there are other things Eddie does that annoy him. That get under his skin. Especially since moving in together, where stupid shit tends to pile up, much more so than when they had lived apart. But to Steve, bringing it up is just not worth it. 

“Steve.” Eddie’s voice has dropped, serious and stern, now. “You’re joking.”

Steve uncrosses his arms to rub his palms across his face. “It’s not-” he starts, voice weak, “it wasn’t like that- I just didn’t want to start something over nothing.”

“You not telling me when you’re upset is something, Steve!” Eddie’s voice rises. Frustrated. Angry. And this is what Steve had meant- it’s just easier when he doesn’t bring it up, when he can swallow down his own frustrations so Eddie doesn’t have to feel it. “When have we ever been the people who keep things from each other?” Eddie continues. And now there’s hurt in Eddie’s voice, too, distress and bitterness bleeding into each other as his cheeks flush a deep red. “Do you not trust me?”

And Steve wants to tell Eddie that he’s wrong. That Steve does trust him- because it’s not a lie. Steve does trust Eddie. Trusts him with all of the good parts of himself. With his joy and his laughter and all of the things that make him smile, but it’s different with the difficult things. The things his parents didn’t want to deal with. Things he didn’t want to burden onto Eddie. Things Steve… maybe hadn’t trusted him with. 

The silence stretches, loud and horrible, because Steve doesn’t know how to explain. Doesn’t know how to reveal what he’s only ever shown to Robin, who had done all of the heavy lifting for him in that bathroom. 

Steve worries further at his bottom lip, the skin raw and sensitive, now, but he doesn’t know what else to do. 

After too long, he manages, “I didn’t want to upset you.” His voice is wobbly and soft, and Steve knows at once that it was the wrong thing to say. Eddie looks away, his flush spreading to his nose as he drags a hand across his face. 

Eddie shakes his head. Once. Twice. “Steve, I-” but he trails off, gaze over Steve’s head. His hair is messy. The bun that his hair had started in at the beginning of the day now frizzy and unkempt, his eyes glassy and face red as he frowns into space.

“I think I need a minute.” He eventually says. “I need- fuck. I don’t even know.” Eddie picks up the keys he’d deposited on the counter not thirty minutes ago, not even needing to don his jacket again as he walks out of the room. 

Panic blooms in Steve’s chest. Because this is- Eddie’s not leaving. He can’t be. It’s not- Eddie wouldn’t just leave.

But Eddie’s grabbing his shoes. Loosening the laces on his heavy boots as he pulls them on in their narrow hallway. 

This is worse than anger. 

“Eddie,” Steve says, his voice wobbly and weak, “love, I-”

But Eddie interrupts, face properly twisted as he turns to face him. “How am I supposed to believe that!?”

Something cold and sharp spills in Steve’s chest. For a moment he can’t breathe. Air escaping him as he stares into Eddie’s crumpled face. After too long, breathless, Steve asks, “what?”

Eddie’s mouth turns down. “That you love me? How am I supposed to believe that when, apparently, you don’t even trust me enough to tell me when I’ve upset you?” Eddie’s breathing heavily through his nose, chest rising and falling as that ice in Steve’s chest expands. “How am I supposed to believe you love me if you don’t trust me, Stevie?”

Eddie shakes his head again, causing more hair to fall out of his loose bun. “I just really need a minute.” He repeats, clenching the keys tighter in his palm. Steve can see the skin of his hand turn white under the pressure. Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, his lips parting before his jaw clicks together again. 

Eddie opens the door, and closes it sharply behind him. 

The sound of the latch clicking rings in the now empty apartment. It vibrates in Steve’s chest. In his fingertips. 

Because Eddie’s gone. He left- and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

The dinner he’d made is still sitting on the stove, going cold. The movie he’d picked up from Family Video is still sitting on the coffee table. 

Steve puts away the dinner. He stacks the movie in line with the ones they own. Between The Fly and The Breakfast Club. He puts away the magazine he’d been reading as he waited for Eddie to come home.

He goes to the bathroom. Brushes his teeth. Washes his face. Flosses. He goes to their bedroom and tosses his jeans and boxers in the hamper. Pulls on a pair of Eddie’s sweats. Takes off his socks and tosses them on top of his jeans.

He gets as far as pulling back the blankets of the bed before the tears start. A wall, preventing him from crawling under the covers of their bed without Eddie. He tries to steady himself. Tries to take big, calming breaths, but soon he’s on the ground, curling his arms around his legs and resting his head on the tops of his knees. His breathing is erratic and shallow, his tears darkening his pants.

Because this is how it has always gone. And he’d tried so hard to prevent it, this time. He thought this was different. That they were different. Thought the better for him than Nancy was Eddie.  

He just wanted Eddie to be happy. And Steve wanted to be the one to do it. 

But, in the end, he wasn’t enough. In the end, what he felt had outraged Eddie enough to leave. Steve’s hands shake at the thought of Eddie’s anger, his face twisted as he asked if Steve even loved him. But this, alone in the apartment that’s theirs, is worse than Eddie’s anger.

He breathes. Tries to keep the hiccups at bay.

He wonders why his love is always the wrong kind.

Eventually, he’s able to pick himself up off the floor. He goes into their living room and curls up on their lumpy old couch and tugs up the blanket Robin had gifted him as a housewarming gift until it’s tucked under his chin. 

He should’ve been better. Should’ve stopped the warble in his voice as he tried to explain, because he knew, really, that Eddie wouldn’t want to deal with him when he’s like this. 

~~~~~~~

I'm gonna make it better ❤️ people have asked if I do tag lists in the past and I do! If you want to be tagged, just let me know.

Part 2 (Complete)

[supernovafics]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k words

summary: in which you and steve are not together, but sometimes— most of the time— you two find your way to each other. it all feels surprisingly okay until the guilt starts to sink in 

warnings: explicit language, cheating (both reader and steve are cheating on their partners), implied smut, a bit of drunk!steve, a lot of angst

author’s note: i love when i get an idea and it consumes my brain so much that i simply cannot do anything except write it lol enjoy this thing that may or may not eventually get a part two<3 idk<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were starting to feel bad about it. Not bad enough to stop it, but bad nonetheless. 

In the end, when this inevitably blew up, a lot of people would be affected, but when you were alone with Steve you found it too hard to force yourself to care about all of that. When you two were alone in your car in the middle of the night or alone in his bedroom because his parents weren’t home, you never cared about just how terrible all of this was.  

That was why it wasn’t until you were walking down the hallway hand in hand with your boyfriend and you spotted Steve and Nancy lingering by what you could only assume was her locker and she was smiling so happily up at him, that you finally felt a little bad. 

You looked away quickly and pretended as if you hadn’t seen them in the first place; pushing his face and especially hers far out of your mind. Instead, you focused on Jamie and listened as he talked about a history test on Friday that he didn’t feel prepared for and how his parents would go ballistic if he didn’t pass. You promised to help him study later tonight— like you always did, from the moment you two met and became friends in seventh grade— and he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips as he called you the best. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You really didn’t like thinking about how everything started with Steve. In your head, you were okay with simplifying it to one day you weren’t cheating on your boyfriend with Steve Harrington and the next day you were. Somehow that thought process made it easier; it made what you and Steve were doing feel more mindless than it actually was. 

But, just because you didn’t like thinking about the beginning didn’t change how it happened. 

It was a New Year’s Eve party at Sam Richards' house. 

You’d shown up alone because Jamie was out of town with family and had been since Christmas. Initially, you were supposed to go with them, but then at the last second, your parents decided to be festive and wanted you to be home for Christmas and the entirety of the holiday break. Weirdly enough, though, it hadn’t been as unbearable as you thought it would be.

However, you were on your own for New Year’s because your dad had a work party that was “adults only.” You honestly didn’t mind though because the thought of being stuck with a bunch of random middle-aged people sounded horrible. So, you instead decided to get stuck with a bunch of people your age, which maybe was just a different kind of bad. 

You heard about the party through a friend of a friend who didn’t even show up. The party was rowdy and boring, which were two words that probably didn’t make sense in the same sentence, but in this instance they surprisingly did.

Eventually, you ended up sitting on the rusty old swing set in the backyard, away from the music and drunk teens. Your sneaker-covered feet pushed into the grass, making you swing a little. You didn’t want to do too much because, with the amount of squeaking the swing was making, it felt as if it was on its last few days of life. 

Because of that squeaking and the fact that you were looking at the ground, you didn’t hear or see Steve walk up to you. 

You noticed him when he was only a few feet away, and you were more confused than startled when he sat down in the open swing next to you. 

“Two minutes to midnight.”

Those were not the first words Steve Harrington had ever said to you. Instead, those had been, “So what do we have to do?” after you two got paired up on a project for English last year. It was two weeks worth of meetups in the library that led to you two getting a B+ and never speaking again. 

Until now, apparently. 

“Fun,” You said because what else were you supposed to say? This entire moment didn’t really make a lot of sense to you.

You looked at Steve sitting next to you. The swing continued to squeak as he started lightly rocking back and forth. The second he met your gaze, you looked away. 

“Where's your boyfriend? Jessie something, right?”

“Jamie,” You corrected him. “He's out of town with family for the holidays. Where's your girlfriend? Mary something?”

You knew it was Nancy. Everyone knew it was Nancy. They were the talk of the school and a cliche case— smart girl falling for the popular guy, also known as the plot to one too many romcoms. 

For some reason, though, you didn’t want Steve to know that you inadvertently paid attention to him just like everyone else at your school. 

“Nancy,” He corrected you. “And she’s also at some family thing.”

You only nodded in response and things became quiet.  

“Y’know, apparently it’s bad luck to not kiss someone when the clock strikes twelve,” Steve said, filling the air of silence.

You ignored his random tidbit, which you weren’t sure was real or not. “Why did you come out here?”

His shoulders upturned in a quick shrug. “You looked bored out here. And I was bored in there.”

You could faintly hear the countdown start in the living room, everyone starting from sixty. 

The next words that should have left your lips should’ve been, “I have a boyfriend. I can't kiss you.” But, instead, you didn’t protest when Steve silently took hold of the chain of your swing and pulled it toward him so that you two were closer. 

You could’ve changed your mind and pushed him away, you should’ve changed your mind and pushed him away, but you decided not to think about it too much. When you heard the countdown get to one and everyone followed up by shouting, “Happy New Year!”, you were inwardly saying fuck it and kissing Steve Harrington in Sam Richards’ backyard. 

It was meant to be innocent, a simple peck just so you both could avoid this “bad luck” that Steve talked about, and it was completely innocent and chaste at first. Until your hand impulsively found Steve's cheek and you deepened the kiss and he didn’t stop you. 

He tasted like cigarettes and champagne, a surprisingly comforting combo, and his free hand moved to your waist, slipping underneath your coat and knit sweater. The feeling of his cold hand against your skin made you inadvertently shiver; you’d forgotten just how cold it was outside. 

“Sorry,” He muttered against your lips. 

It was the first word spoken in the last minute and it somehow managed to wake your mind up and made your thoughts finally start catching up to what was happening in this moment. You quickly realized that anyone could potentially see you two out here and even though the party inside sounded just as loud and lively as it had earlier, it was still a possibility that you two could get caught. 

You pulled back from the kiss and met Steve’s gaze. “We can’t do this here.”

It was the ‘here’ part of your sentence that fully piqued Steve’s interest. 

He stood up from the swing and reached his hand out for you to grab. “Come on.”

You slipped your hand in his and let him lead you out of the backyard and away from the house completely. It took you way too long to realize that he was taking you to his car that was parked down the street. He pulled the backseat door open and let you get inside first. 

You forced yourself not to think about anything aside from how good Steve’s mouth felt on yours and how you liked feeling his cold hands against your skin, traveling from your hips to your waist to your back and pulling you closer to him. 

Seconds blended into minutes and you suddenly weren’t sure how long you’d been in his backseat and how long you had kept nearly bumping your head against the roof every time you slightly shifted in his lap.    

It didn’t make sense to you how okay this all felt. You hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Steve since last year, and yet you felt entirely comfortable with him right here in this moment.

It didn’t make sense that night and it also didn’t make sense the one after that when you saw him again and you two did a lot more than just make out in the backseat of his car. 

However, what did feel certain was the fact that everything suddenly happening between you two wasn’t meant to be anything more. You knew that you and Steve wouldn’t make sense in the daytime or in the real world. He made sense with Nancy and you made sense with Jamie. That was just the way things worked and both of you unspokenly agreed on that. 

It was only in private when you two surprisingly did make sense, and in some ways, it felt like a no-brainer. Of course, you’d see Steve most nights and during fleeting moments at school. Of course, you’d kiss or do more with him for what felt like hours in his house or your own car. Of course, you’d feel comfortable in his bed with his arms wrapped around you as you two ended up talking about nothing for hours. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You found the note in your locker halfway through third period. You asked your History teacher if you could go to the bathroom and then you headed to your locker instead of the bathrooms that were in the opposite direction because you just knew that something would be in it. 

Meet me. Bathroom. – Steve

The first time he sent a note that basically resembled that one, you laughed because how the hell were you supposed to know what bathroom he meant or when? 

And that was exactly what you told him that night when you two were in your car and he playfully pouted at you, asking why he didn’t get to see you at school. And then he let out a soft “Oh” with his own laugh when he realized that you were right and he didn’t tell you where to go or give you a time. 

From there on out, the bathroom by the gym became your and Steve's meeting place. It was usually always empty because most people opted for using the bathrooms in the gym locker rooms since they were bigger.  

After the first few times you met him there, there was really no reason for Steve to leave notes for you because the place and time was always the same, but you still kind of liked that he did. 

When you walked in at the start of sixth period instead of going to study hall, Steve was already leaning against the sink. 

He smiled when he saw you and you couldn’t help but think that that was the same smile that he’d been giving Nancy earlier; it was the same one he probably always gave her, his girlfriend. 

There was no greeting; no softly spoken “Hi’s” or anything. Instead, Steve was pulling you close and slotting his lips against yours and then shifting you two around so that you were pressed against the sink.

You savored it just for a second before you pulled away. 

“Wait,” You abruptly started and put your hands on his chest to put some distance between you two. “I, um, I think we should stop this.”

Apparently, you were feeling more than just a little bad about everything. 

Steve’s hands fell from your hips and it was easy to read the surprised look on his face, which definitely made sense because it did seem as if your words were coming entirely out of left field. 

“Oh,” He said. The surprised look fell from his face after the quickest moment. “Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fine.”

His nonchalance toward the situation made it all feel a thousand times easier. Maybe he didn’t really care about all of this, and that should’ve made you feel okay and good and perfectly fine, but if you were being entirely honest with yourself it didn’t make you feel any of that. 

“Okay, cool,” You responded with a forced smile instead of taking your words back or doing anything else about them. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

He gave you a quick nod. “Yeah.” 

For a second, it was hard to do what you needed to do next, but then you were finally moving away from Steve. No sort of “Goodbye” fell from your lips because it weirdly felt too hard to say the word right then.

Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking. 

The two words played on repeat in your head as you forced yourself to leave the bathroom. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Steve was throwing rocks at your window. You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. There was no one else it could be. 

Jamie knocked and walked through your front door like a normal person, and then he’d talk to your parents for the obligatory amount of time that was considered polite (even after being friends for so long and then dating for that past year he was still kinda scared of your dad), and then he’d greet you. 

He would not throw rocks at your window. 

The smallest part of you was glad that Steve was at least doing this now instead of ten minutes earlier when Jamie was still here studying because that would’ve ruined everything for you. However, Steve being here now still pissed you off nonetheless. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper-yelled when you were standing in front of him in your front yard. You adjusted the hoodie that you haphazardly slipped on in your quick race down the stairs. “My parents are home.”

If he really wanted to, he could’ve called you out on how bad of an excuse that was because there had been many prior moments where your parents' presence hadn’t been that concerning to you. It wasn’t like they checked on you periodically throughout the night, so if you left in the middle of the night, all you had to do was make sure you were back by morning. 

Steve didn’t remind you of any of that, though. Instead, he said, “I just— I just wanted to tell you something.”

There was something about the way he was talking and his stance right then that made you give him a look. “Are you drunk?”

He answered with the most unconvincing “No” ever and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

“How did you get here?”

“Walked,” he answered and you nodded, relieved that he didn’t drive, and then you felt kind of annoyed for caring. You really didn’t want to care about him anymore. 

“So… you, uh, wanted to tell me something?” You asked him. The faster the conversation started, the faster it could be over and he could leave your front yard. 

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded. “I just— I wish you hadn’t ended things with us today.” 

His words confused you because he had seemed perfectly fine about it all earlier. Your eyebrows furrowed. “But, we agreed—“

“I know,” He interrupted you. “I know, and I get it, I guess. But, I just don’t want you to think that it’s easy for me to let you and what we had go. It isn't easy. At all. I didn’t realize how much I really like you and how much I love what we had until you decided to end it.”

You wondered if he was only admitting that because he was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t have said any of that to you otherwise. But, either way, at least he had the guts to say what you’d been too scared to. You hadn’t even really admitted it to yourself, how much you liked and cared about him. As much as you wanted to pretend that what you two had been doing was mindless and didn’t really mean anything, it was actually the complete opposite; of course, it was.

You still had to look away from him in this moment, though, because you weren’t drunk and it felt too hard to admit the truth like he was. “Steve…”

“What changed?” He asked after a moment of what felt like unbearable silence. “Yesterday, we were fine, right?”

You refused to answer his questions because you really didn’t want to rehash everything right then; how your suddenly guilty brain made you impulsively end things with him. You honestly wanted to just forget about everything. 

You shook your head as you sighed. “Let me drive you home, Steve.”

Your words were soft, probably too soft. You wanted to be mean to him, you wanted to push him away; you knew that it would make things easier. But, you couldn’t. 

“Can we walk?”

“Sure, but if you stumble and fall I'm not picking you up.”

He laughed a little as he nodded. “Understandable.” 

You shouldn’t be joking with him, you shouldn’t even be talking to him, but here you were. 

Things were quiet for a few moments, and you figured that maybe this ten-minute walk wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe it would stay silent and you’d say an actual final goodbye to him once you were at his front door and then you two would never talk again; essentially a sort of repeat of what happened last year in English class.

“So, can I know what happened?” Steve asked, breaking the quiet and ruining what you had hoped would happen for the next ten minutes. Apparently, he wasn’t going to let this go until you either told him the truth about what was going on in your head or lied about it all. 

You let out a long breath; you couldn’t find it in you to lie to him in this moment. “I finally realized that we’re shitty people for doing this.” Steve didn’t say anything at first so you took that as your cue to keep going. “You love Nancy and I love Jamie and everything that we’ve been doing for the past month isn’t fair to them and it’s so fucked up. We’re selfish and terrible people, and I kinda hate that this ever started in the first place.”

Finally saying it all out loud made it feel a thousand times more real and certain to you. At least, most of it felt that way. You knew just how shitty all of this was, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever completely regret any of it happening. 

“You don’t love him, though,” Steve said. “At least that’s what you told me that one night.”

You were now learning that Steve Harrington was a good listener, and even with his current inebriation, his memory was still surprisingly good too. 

“That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change how horrible I feel about all of this.”

You were talking, but all you could think about was the conversation that Steve was referring to. A post-sex conversation that you two had a few weeks ago as you and him were half-naked in the backseat of your car that was parked at Lovers Lake. 

It doesn’t feel right anymore, and I don’t know, maybe it never fully did. I just want to go back to how things were before. But, it feels impossible to tell him any of that. He really loves me, and even though I don't feel the same way anymore, I don’t want to hurt him or break his heart. He's still my best friend. I'll always love him like that. 

It was hard to remember what Steve said in response to that or if he even said anything at all. All you could remember was that the second the words left your mouth, you wanted to forget about it. You’d been way too honest, saying things that you had never admitted out loud before, but somehow you were admitting them to Steve.  

“You’re right,” He said to you now. “We are bad people for doing this.”

Things became quiet then because what else was there really to say? You both were in agreement. 

You two continued walking the short distance to his house. When he started going off course a bit too much, stepping on and off of people’s yards instead of staying on the sidewalk, you grabbed his hand to keep him close and steady. 

You didn’t drop it once you two were at his front door or even when he asked you to come inside. Against your better judgment, you silently let him lead you into his house. You toed off your shoes at the door like you always did and then followed him up the stairs. You told yourself that you were just making sure he made it into bed alright.

“You okay?” You asked once you two were in his room. 

You were just wondering if he was feeling dizzy or needed to throw up, but Steve took your question in an entirely different way. 

He shook his head. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Okay, I’m gonna miss you.”

“I…” You let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

You wished that he would kick you out, or even yell at you. If he was mean to you, it’d make it easier to leave his house, to leave him. Deep down you knew that he would never do that, though.

“Why can’t we just…” He trailed off for a second, and you were certain that he forgot where he was going with his words, but then he continued. “Do this?”

“Do what?” You asked, even though you had a feeling what he meant but you hoped you were wrong. 

“Be together for real,” He said, and in an entirely different world it would’ve made you happy hearing that, but in this world his statement only made things feel so much more complicated. “We won’t be bad people anymore if we just stop lying.”

For the briefest second, you imagined saying yes and agreeing with him, and for that quick second, the thought actually sounded really nice. 

“Or we won’t be bad people anymore if we just stop everything,” You told him instead of being honest and admitting that you liked him a lot more than you had ever led on, and that even though you had wanted this to mean nothing, you had also really enjoyed the nights where you two talked for hours upon hours about anything. 

“Okay,” He said, no longer debating your words and simply accepting them for what they were.

You nodded and then the simple word fell from your lips too. “Okay.”

That was definitely your cue to leave, but you didn’t say any kind of “goodbye” and neither did Steve. It was obvious that things were different, but they didn’t entirely feel that way just yet, so that made you stay. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked softly after a few moments of just watching him move about his bedroom, pulling off the jacket he was wearing and hanging it on the back of his door. 

Steve shook his head, meeting your eyes again. “No, I’ll always want you to stay.”

You couldn’t help but give him a small smile and a simple nod as a way to say “Okay.” You knew that this entire interaction was sending nothing but mixed signals, but your mind was a mess of contradictions and only felt confused, and you just really didn’t want to think too much anymore. 

It was warm in his room, so you pulled off your hoodie, leaving you in just your t-shirt and shorts, and you hung it up where his jacket was on his door. Silently, you joined him at his bed, settling yourself and laying down in the spot that you’d been in more times than you could count at this point.  

“I’m sorry,” You whispered in the darkness after a while. “That things can’t be different.” 

Steve moved closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist. “They could be.”

“I know,” You finally admitted, leaning into his touch. “But, it’s just too hard.”

He didn’t ask you to elaborate on what you meant, probably because he understood or he was just tired of this constant back and forth. 

You told yourself that you’d only stay for five minutes. And when five minutes turned to ten, you told yourself that you at least wouldn’t fall asleep. 

But, of course, you did. You felt too comfortable and at ease in Steve’s arms not to.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

part two!

let me know ur thoughts<333

[steddie-as-they-come]

Steve Harrington sucks at kissing.

It’s something everyone in school knows. The King can’t kiss to save his life. He’s motionless, emotionless. It’s like kissing a brick wall.

And yes, he makes up for it in other ways, ways that let all the girls he’s with get past the weird kissing thing. Nancy’s not big on PDA anyway, so minimum kissing is fine with her.

The rumors spread, though. Girls talk to their friends about how they try to “teach” him to kiss, giving him gentle instructions murmured against his lips, to no avail. The movements are flat, jerky, like he’s being puppeted around on marionette strings.

He just can’t do it.

Robin teases him about it exactly once, early on in their Scoops Ahoy careers. But she sees how sad it makes him, sees how he twists the strand of hair by his ear around and around his finger (a nervous habit of his that she learns about much later), and resolves to never talk about it again. If only to get him to stop looking like she dropkicked his puppy into an active volcano.

When Steve starts dating Eddie, they don’t kiss much. Eddie’s not experienced, and he’s also not stupid. He heard the rumors in high school. The last thing he wants is for Steve to be forced into doing something he doesn’t want to do. And it’s really okay. Steve’s good with his hands (like, obscenely good), and he treats Eddie like a person, not a prize or a target. Bar’s low, but Steve’s still hurtling over it.

So it’s about half a month into their relationship when they kiss for the first time.

Eddie graduates, and Steve just gets so excited he yanks Eddie down an empty corridor in the school, picks him up by the waist and spins him around like a Disney princess.

And then he kisses him.

Eddie’s long hair is falling like a curtain around their faces, blocking out the whole world until it’s just them. Steve’s lips are warm, slotted perfectly against Eddie’s own, and his hands are braced around Eddie’s waist. Eddie feels his diploma fall from his hands, and he weaves his hand into Steve’s hair and tilts his head up, kissing him deeper.

Steve breaks away just then. Eddie chases Steve’s mouth with his own on instinct.

“Sorry,” Steve says breathlessly.

“What the hell are you sorry for?” Eddie demands in a harsh whisper. “I thought you were bad at kissing!”

“I am!” Steve says. “I got excited, sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Why not?” Eddie says indignantly. “That was by far the best kiss I have ever had. Did you not like it?”

Steve looks like he’s running on autopilot. “No, it was amazing, I just… everyone says I’m bad at kissing. I didn’t want to make you kiss me.”

Eddie drags him close, slams him against the wall like he did in the boathouse, except this time with significantly more horny undertones. “You should keep that reputation.” Eddie says in a low tone. “I think no one else, but me, gets to know how good of a kisser you are.”

“Works for me,” Steve says, breath ghosting over Eddie’s lips, and that’s all the invitation Eddie needs to dive back in.

They end up scarring Robin when she comes looking for them, but that’s alright.

[cacoetheswriting]

break my heart again | chapter six from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 6.4K

summary: He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time. And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, slow burn, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / little comfort, some serious mutual pining, use of pet names, implied intimacy | non-explicit, plus mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, also touches on topics of: death, grief, toxic relationships, gaslighting, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

2:34AM. 

The house is still. Quiet and empty. Everyone is hiding away in their own rooms, trying to get some sleep after a long and exciting day.

Except the house is not still. There’s shouting bouncing between the walls, keeping the group awake. Raised voices coming from one bedroom.

Eddie’s, to be exact.

Ding. Phones illuminate the darkness. The group chat.

Steve: They’ve been arguing for over an hour… Robin: should someone check what’s going on? Robin: not it

Jonathan sends a thumbs down emoji.

Nancy: Let’s leave them alone for a bit longer. Steve: I’m trying to sleep Robin: we’re all trying to sleep, Harrington Nancy: 15 minutes and I’ll go, okay?

Thumbs up reactions fly in. The chat dies down for a moment. Phones get locked, attempts at eavesdropping continue.

Robin: do we know what they’re arguing about? Robin: they looked mighty cosy this evening and now this? Steve: I can take a wild guess Robin: do enlighten us, detective Jonathan: Guys, it’s not our business. Steve: They’re kinda making it our business, Byers Steve: I suspect it’s got something to do with Chrissy Robin: of fucking course

Chrissy has had enough of being made to look like a fool. She felt as though she sacrificed enough for Eddie Munson during their time together and she wanted something in return, for the years she wasted on the metal-head. For all the instances he’d tell her you meant nothing, yet his actions proved otherwise.

Chrissy no longer wanted to be the butt of the joke. 

Recording her version of the story, articulating it into words she’s been too afraid to feel, was therapeutic. She should have left it there. Let the past go and find someone who actually cares. But she couldn’t just let it be. Not so deep down, she wanted Eddie to hurt — you’re just collateral damage, a means to an end.

You pressed play without thinking too much about the implications because what could Eddie’s pretty ex-girlfriend possibly want with you. Issue some vague and empty threats, perhaps? Or maybe to tell you something along the lines of ‘good luck, he’s an asshole’ — typical ex-girlfriend stuff.

Only there isn’t anything typical about Chrissy’s message.

Listening to it once should have been enough for you, but no, you had to go and hurt your heart by playing it again and again and again, until the words made even less sense than they did the first time around.

It’s incredibly incriminating, to say the least, and you don’t quite believe that anything Chrissy has said is true, so you let auto-pilot take over and saunter down the hall, towards Eddie’s bedroom.

He opens the door before you even get a chance to knock, as if he knew you were coming. As if he felt your energy gravitate in his direction and he wanted to meet you halfway. A smile reaches his lips, cocky yet soft, and your heart clenches because you desperately want everything to remain on the edge of whatever the hell you two have been doing all day.

“Miss me already, angel?” He quips, arm above his head, resting against the frame.

“We need to talk,” you say and slide under his bicep, stepping inside his safe space.

Eddie shifts, his smile faltering. He gets the sense that he’s not going to like what’s about to come out of your mouth. He swallows a breath and shuts the door with the heel of his foot, a gentle thud vibrating against the floorboards.

“What’s going on?” Concern laced through his tone.

You don’t answer. Not really. Instead, you hold up your phone, the one you’ve been gripping tightly in your hand, imprints left behind on your palm.

Staring at the metal-head, you press play. Chrissy’s voice booms from the speaker and you observe Eddie for any sort of reaction: to prove she’s lying. She has to be lying.

“Okay, ugh. This is so weird,” Chrissy’s note begins. “You don’t have to listen to this. In fact, I half expect you’ve already turned it off because you don’t owe me anything. We were never friends, just friendly. Acquaintances by nature or some shit.”

She pauses. Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the phone. He takes a step forward, but doesn’t try to come any closer to you. Almost as if he knows what his ex-girlfriend is about to say and he feels helpless to stop it.

“Now that you seem to have reconciled with him. There’s something I think you ought to know. Something he definitely won’t tell you since he’s always been quite chickenshit when it comes to the truth and you - separately and combined.”

You play the second voice note, eyes not leaving Eddie’s brown ones for a second.

“Our graduation party. There’s not a lot I know about what happened between you, Eddie, and Steve. He never told me the specifics, but I can piece together a rough picture and I know there was a blowup, one he blamed you for.”

Shuffling in the background indicates she’s on the move as she speaks.

“Listen, I’m not here to make assumptions or whatever. I just think there’s been a certain double standard which you don’t deserve - coming from me, that must feel like a shocker.”

Chrissy chuckles. The voice note ends. You play the next one, but not before Eddie says your name which makes your insides curl.

“After you fought for everyone at the party to hear, and after Eddie took you home, I don’t know if you know that he came back. I found him ruffling through the bushes. I suppose he was looking for something, although he never told me what. He never told me much when it came to you.”

Your free hand lands on the guitar pick around your neck.

“Well, I invited him in.”

“Angel—”

“Eddie, shut up.” You interrupt, voice quavering because now, seeing the downcast expression on his face, you know what Chrissy is about to say next is true.

The note continues.

“I’ll spare you the details. We slept together. Bet Eddie would never tell you that, huh? He’s all high and mighty about whatever you did with Steve earlier that very same night, when in reality he’s not much better.”

A pause for dramatic effect.

“Then, word spreads that you’ve skipped town and Eddie comes around more often. I asked about you, you know? I asked if he told you about what we did because I’m not stupid, I know there’s always been something between the two of you, and I didn’t want to step on any toes in case you came back. All he did was shrug and say you didn’t deserve to know anything from him anymore.”

Tears wet your lashes.

“Talk about being a conniving asshole.” 

In the last, shortest note, she adds, “Sorry you had to find out this way.”

With the click of a thumb, you lock your phone and go back to gripping it, tight. Anger seeps through your fingers, although that’s where it starts and ends. The rest of you feels borderline numb — which usually drives you to drink. You hate yourself for this setback, but more so for allowing this in the first place. For getting caught up in Eddie’s forgiveness and his laugh, his touches and kisses, his promises of a better tomorrow.

The sham is clear. Chrissy spelled it out in her voice notes.

Eddie Munson gave you hell for kissing Steve then jumped into bed with the blonde Cunningham. Whatever. He needed someone to make him feel better. That’s not what irks you.

What hurts the most is the radio silence that followed beyond the night. The years of no contact.

What hurts the most is allowing you to think everything was your fault. For allowing you to isolate yourself from your friends, your home. For letting you stew in misery, thinking you hurt him beyond repair.

“I was going to tell you,” Eddie says, taking another step in your direction. “I swear, angel. I-I just didn’t know how to go about it.”

You scoff although your voice wobbles as you say, “Well, thank god for your ex-girlfriend.”

Eddie’s now an arm-length away.

“Look, I-I know this looks bad, but this doesn’t have to change anything,” he half-pleads. “I mean, we dated after, so it’s not like—”

“Like me and Steve?” You interrupt in disbelief at this entire situation. “I thought we moved past that.”

“We did,” he agrees with a shake of the head. “Fuck! I-I am just trying to say how what happened between me and Chrissy is different.”

Slowly, you nod. “Right, because that explains it so much better.”

“Angel—”

“You think I’m mad because you had sex with her?” 

He seems shaken by your question which answers it immediately.

“Eddie, I don’t give a shit about who you sleep with. Chrissy, those horny moms that listen to your radio show, whoever else.” You tell him, “I’m upset because I went years believing everything that happened to us was my goddamn fault!”

The yell slips and he flinches, not expecting such ferocity.

Eddie left you to your own guilt and that’s his prerogative. The secrets however, they hurt. First the Billy thing, and now this. And imagining how different things could have been if you knew all this information sooner makes you want to scream.

“You keep secrets, Eddie. Billy and this, and you fail to realise how these secrets impacted me and my decisions!” You accuse. “What’s worse, we had a heart to heart last night, which would have been a good opportunity to tell me about this thing with Chrissy, but you chose yourself over me, again.”

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You still left, remember? You didn’t have to do that. You could have stayed and we uh, we could have tried to work it out—”

“I left because of you!”

Something snaps then. The last string of forging forward.

“Okay, I don’t like the accusation when you’re the one who made out with my friend.” Eddie goes on defence.

“Jesus! How many times are you going to make me apologise?” You throw your arms up with the question. “I was drunk and sad. My best friend—” You point to the metal-head. “— just told me he had feelings for me at quite literally the worst possible time and I wasn’t ready to…”

The sentence fades as you shake your head. “No. You don’t get to say anything about me kissing Steve anymore because you forgave me, remember?”

He’s staring at you. Hands formed into fists at his sides.

The argument bounces back-and-forth like this. You’re hurt. He’s hurt. Neither of you willing to back down first because there’s a whole lot more to lose now than there ever was before — boundaries crossed, all those kisses and whatever the fuck they mean.

“Do the others know?” You ask, breaking a tension filled moment of silence.

Eddie shakes his head.

You smack your lips together. “That tells me you’re ashamed, which means you know what you did is wrong.”

“What do you want me to say?!” He half-shouts, feeling agitated and defeated all at the same time.

“You still haven’t said you’re sorry,” you answer, softer, sadder.

Eddie’s heart clenches. He can see the hurt behind your eyes, hear it in your voice. He should have apologised, but you came in hot and he felt blindsided — not like that’s a good enough excuse, although maybe it is considering some forty-eight hours ago, you two were hating each other.

Well, he didn’t hate you. Never ever. Quite the opposite in fact, all this time.

“I'm sorry, okay.” Eddie says eventually. “I am really fucking sorry.”

“If only that wasn’t so forced.”

He sighs. “We’re going in circles here, angel.”

And the argument starts again. At this point, it feels stupid, but there’s a gnawing inside your chest that’s not allowing you to let this shit go.

“You let me believe you were broken over me.” 

“I was!” Eddie shouts. “What happened with Chrissy has nothing to do with how I feel about you, goddamn it!”

You blink. Feel, he said. However, not even a split-second passes to let you dwell on the word and his use of it because Eddie continues with his rant.

“The facts are, you left. Despite whatever I said or did, and whatever you said or did. At the end of the day, you still left! And maybe I am a shitty person, shitty friend, for not reaching out and not telling you about getting with Chrissy that same night, fucking sue me!” 

The metal-head approaches you as he speaks. He stops only when he’s toe to toe, hovering over you, demanding eye contact.

“I was heartbroken and I chose to react how I did to help me get over you!” 

He fucked up, he knows, but you’re no better either. There’s been years of miscommunication and hidden information; that’s hard to fix over a few days.

“Eddie…” You whisper his name and search his gaze for absolution. An ending to this whole debacle.

“Which frankly, is a tough fucking thing to do,” he adds and clenches his jaw in anticipation of what you’re going to tell him next.

But you don’t get to reply. You don’t even have a minute for his admission to settle because his phone starts intensely vibrating on the bedside table.

Hanging his head, Eddie walks towards it and after glancing over his shoulder at you, a sad look on his face, he reads the texts that are coming into the group chat.

He types.

Eddie: We’re fine. Steve: Sure doesn’t sound like it, dude Steve: Heard my name a couple of times… Eddie: It’s fine. Robin: liar

He slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans with a sigh, and as he turns back around, he says: “I’m sorry, angel. For my part, I am.”. But you’re not there anymore.

The door to his bedroom is wide open. You must’ve slipped out in the split-second he paid attention to his phone instead of what truly mattered.

He follows, looking for you. When he finds you outside, sitting on the lawn and staring ahead at the lake, you tell him you want to be alone. Eddie says he knows, yet plops down next to you because he’s not making the same mistake he did three years ago. He’s not letting you retreat and run away when he just got you back.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says earnestly, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

“So you’ve said,” you reply, choosing to focus on the reflection of the stars in the dark water.

He sighs. “You don’t make things easy, you know.”

“So you’ve said,” you repeat.

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. Parting your legs, so he can slide in between. His own knees bump your arms, keeping you in place, no escape, as his hands delicately grip your face and force you to meet his sad brown gaze.

“I should’ve fought for you.”

Not a simple sentence whatsoever. Hard to say, hard to hear. The words settle around you, within you. They hold your heart. Squeeze it and let the blood pour until you’re faint.

The weight of this is bigger than anything he’s ever said to you. Eddie knows this too. He feels the way your body sags in his embrace. How you’ve seemingly stopped breathing.

He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time.

And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

“I should’ve fought for you because I-I don’t think I’ve ever stopped… feeling things for you.”

“Eddie.”

“And I-I think the problem all along has been your fear of reciprocating anything real.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “Or maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”

He kisses you before the words fully escape his plump mouth. The fight’s not over. The argument, simply put on hold. His lips trace yours, then travel along your jaw and down your neck. He reaches your collarbone and kisses there too, slow and steady.

He wants to hear you say it. Admit the feelings you’ve been harbouring.

His movement is methodical. His hands now on your waist, splayed fingers digging into your lower back as he bites your flesh, coaxing a moan from your parted lips.

“Eddie,” you breathe, “This doesn’t fix anything.”

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

But you don’t. In fact, you lean forward.

“But we’re not having sex,” you mutter against his parted lips.

“Okay,” he breathes.

“And this doesn’t fix anything.”

“You already said that, angel.”

Since you have no further rebuttals — actually, you have plenty, but all you can think about right now is how much you want him.

Sure, the circumstances could be better, but fact remains. You want him to touch you and make you forget, make you feel better. Make you happy. And you want to return the favour, out on the grass, under the cover of darkness, because if nothing else, at least you’ll both have this moment.

3:17AM

Steve: It’s oddly quiet……… Nancy: Maybe they went to sleep? Jonathan: Exactly what we should be doing too.

He follows with a frown emoji, to which Harrington reacts with a thumbs down.

Robin: they’re not in their rooms Robin: and yes, I went to check because that’s what good friends do Jonathan: Not our business. Steve: The cars are still here, so they must be somewhere on the property Jonathan: Guys, seriously. Nancy: We should all go to sleep. Robin: fine Robin: but if they’re still missing in the morning, I won’t be the one talking to the cops Nancy: I’m sure they’re both fine. Steve: They’re in the backyard….. Robin: oh? Steve: They’re fine

He wraps the conversation up with a winky face and locks his phone. The rest of the group do the same, only after Robin sends one last message: “fucking finally”.

Finally. 

That’s what you’d say to describe this moment too.

As Eddie’s hands gently slide under your top, as he works his lips along your jawline, as you tug his brown locks in your fingers, as he lay you down on the grass and wedged his denim-clad knee in between your thighs, finally is the thought that definitely crosses your mind.

Until it doesn’t.

“Eddie,” you mutter his name.

“Yes, baby?” He’s kissing down your neck, excruciatingly slow.

You exhale, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, turned on, but also nervous for his reaction to what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“What are we doing?”

He smirks against your skin. You can feel the twitch of his lips against that soft spot you didn’t even know you had until the metal-head found it.

“We’re not having sex,” he replies, teasing with your earlier comment.

The corners of your own lips twitch upwards involuntary. Happy, content. He’s funny. He likes you. Why is the devil on your shoulder trying to ruin this good thing?

“No.” Pressing your forehead to his, gently pushing away, you continue, “What are we doing?”

Slowly, the metal-head lifts his head, catching your gaze with his own. The gentle moonlight glow illuminates his face.

“There’s a lot riding against us,” you say. “And it doesn’t help that we’ve been avoiding this conversation.”

“What conversation?” He questions, although he already knows the answer.

“Eddie,” you whine. “We can’t keep pretending.”

Brows furrowed, he drops his hand to your lap, interlocking your fingers together. He squeezes once, twice, then swallows his breath. Nervous. A ticking time-bomb, this thing between you. That’s how he’d describe it. A lot of questions and excuses, not a lot of decisiveness out of fear, mainly.

“Pretending?” He ponders.

“Pretending it doesn’t hurt every time we look at one another,” you explain, “Pretending. everything is fine and we’re just two people who used to be friends.”

Eddie sighs. “That’s bullshit.”

And his lips are back on yours. Softer this time. A loving kiss. A loaded kiss. Making you forget why you were nervous in the first place because despite everything, he’s here and as are you. Together. Feeling… things. Liking each other. That should be enough.

Right?

Wrong.

Birds chirping and a cool breeze stir the brunette awake. He sits immediately because the first thing Eddie notices is how he’s alone — which is not how things ended at the ungodly hour of the night.

In the aftermath of a lovestruck haze, you fell asleep in his arms, but now you’re gone and dread spills into his gut. 

Pulling his T-shirt over his bare torso, Eddie is on his feet and rushing toward the house. Inside, Steve throws him a look, a cup of coffee barely hiding the knowing smirk.

“Some night, huh?”

But Eddie ignores his friend. He’s got no time to entertain the teasing of it all. He needs to find you first.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie grumbles, albeit growing red as a beet.

Steve snorts a laugh, shakes his head, and dips out the back door to enjoy the rest of his morning coffee.

Eddie resumes his search.

The living areas are all deserted. Quiet. Upstairs, he checks his own room first, the common bathroom, and when they too prove vacant, he rushes down the hall until he reaches the door of the last place you could be.

He knocks. Once, twice. There’s no answer and his anxiety spikes. Calling your name, he helps himself inside. Also empty.

Worse. There’s no sign of you whatsoever.

Eddie circles the room, slowly. The bed is made. En-suite clear of any lotions and bottles alike. Hesitantly, he opens the wardrobe, only to find nothing at all. Free hangers and unoccupied shelves. Your suitcase is also gone.

Something catches the metal-heads eye. A singular item left behind. The plushy he won you at the fair. He reaches for it, then stops abruptly because a sound coming from downstairs catches his attention instead. The entryway. Hinges open, close.

Your laughter.

Hastily, Eddie grabs the toy and rushes out of the room. He stops at the top of the stairs when his wide gaze lands on the girl he was sure left him behind — again.

“You’re here?” He half asks, half says.

Your head snaps in his direction and a timid smile graces your features.

“Good morning.”

“You’re here,” Eddie repeats, stepping down the steps, until he’s an arms length away from you.

“Where else would I be?”

“Your room is empty,” he points out, then lifts the plushy in his hands, “This is the only thing that was left.”

You reach for the toy, but grab his hands instead. Fingers interlocking together and you squeeze.

“I packed up my car. The rabbit must’ve fallen out of my bag.” Slowly, you pull his knuckles to your chest.

He nods, once. Slowly.

“I-I just thought maybe you… The whole Chrissy thing and what I said last night…”

“Yeah, we should definitely talk before we leave today,” you say and offer him another smile.

Eddie takes it in, the twist of your lips, and relaxes slightly, but there’s a look in your eyes he can’t quite place. A certain detachment. He wants to ask you about it. He wants to double check that you’re okay because he doesn’t quite believe that you are. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get a chance because you slip away from him, into the kitchen where seemingly the rest of the group has now gathered.

The detachment is intentional. You’re just unaware that Eddie picked up on it. He wasn’t supposed to.

Truthfully, when you woke up this morning, tangled in his limbs on the hard grass, your insides curled with panic.

The metal-head kind of predicted it himself, with what he said. You’re afraid of falling. Love and other good things. You don’t want to feel them because they’ve hurt you before and he knows that. Which is why your instinct is to leave. Run to Las Vegas and forget about Eddie Munson once and for all. You can’t keep stringing him along forever.

You were almost free and clear, driving away without any goodbyes, when Nancy caught you.

She saw the look in your eyes and understood immediately because it’s the same look that you shared with her three years ago, when she told you to leave.

This time however, the Wheeler girl is telling you to stay. “At least say goodbye,” she says and you nod. “It’s the right thing to do.”

All through breakfast, you workshop a list of pros and cons to the internal turmoil of leave with Eddie or leave alone.

The Munson boy is staring at you from across the table and his deep brown gaze makes it all that much harder to think. Thoughts of he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, turn to, don’t leave him, don’t leave him, don’t leave. But no good will come of you staying, that’s what the devil is telling you. The dark part of yourself.

“This was a really good weekend,” Robin announces with a smile. “Thank you for organising, Nance. You’re the best.”

Steve lifts his mug. “To Nancy.”

“To Nancy,” the group echoes, you included.

“To us,” the brunette girl says instead. 

Your gaze locks with Eddie’s and your heart drops. You don’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever. So maybe him coming with you to Vegas is a bad idea, because it’ll be that much more difficult to inevitably say goodbye?

His words echo in your mind: “Maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”, and despite the sinking sensation, you plaster on a smile and repeat Nancy’s sentiment, eyes not straying from the mahogany across from you for even a second. 

“How about we each say what our favourite part of this trip has been?” Robin suggests, “Eddie, why don’t you kick us off?”

The metal-head swallows. He forces himself to look away from you, towards the remainder of the group and nods.

“Uhm. Sure.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I had fun at the fair.”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers because that would reveal too much to your friends. Although, judging by the snickers coming from Steve’s end of the table, they already know a lot more than they’re letting on.

“Good start,” Robin says and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Who wants to go next?”

Argyle puts himself forward. He says he enjoyed canoeing the most and the whole table, minus you and Eddie, barks out in laughter. Jonathan reminds his friend that he never joined them on the lake, he was afraid, and Argyle disagrees.

“That doesn’t sound like me, dude.” He drawls.

The group continues to laugh.

“Okay, okay,” Steve interjects, ceasing his chortles. “My favourite moment was cutting onions that very first night.”

Your eyes snap in Harrington’s direction and for the first time all morning, the smile on your face doesn’t feel forced.

“Don’t be cute,” you tease.

Steve rolls his eyes. “What can I say, sweetheart. I loved reconnecting with you.”

“That’s been my favourite too,” Robin chimes.

“Guys, stop,” you force, getting slightly choked up about this sentimental moment you’ve found yourself in. “These feel like cop-out answers.”

“What’s yours then?” Robin asks.

You hesitate. There’s been a lot. Some bad moments too, although the good outweigh them. Eddie is at the top of your mind. Making out in the lake. Later, dry humping (etc.) on the grass. A burn in your cheeks at the sudden flashes of memory.

“It’s all been really nice,” is what you settle on.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Right, ‘cause that’s not a cop-out answer.” She huffs, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice,” Steve repeats. “I guess bumpin’ naughties—”

“Well,” Jonathan interrupts, “I agree. It’s all been really nice.”

You flash him a grateful smile and he tips his head in your direction. A way of expressing ‘don’t worry about it’ behind the look he’s sporting.

“Me too,” Nancy adds.

“You guys are no fun,” Robin half-whines. “Only Eddie understood the assignment, and even he’s not being a hundred percent truthful.”

“I am,” the metal-head speaks. “Being truthful, that is. I really liked the fair.”

Robin smiles at him. “I know, dude. But I also know you guys did something salacious last night,” she says, pointing between you and the brunette across from you, “And I would’ve thought that’s the favourite moment.”

“Robin!” Nancy breathes in shock.

“We… I-I…” You stammer, searching for the right thing to say since there’s no use in denying it.

“That’s none of your business,” Eddie huffs for the both of you.

“I told them that,” Jonathan says.

“Oh come on,” Steve laughs, “It’s not a big deal. We’re just happy for you two. It’s been a long time coming.”

Hesitantly, you look back at Eddie. His own gaze is fixated on the ceiling above, head resting on the edge of the chair. He’s thinking about that detached look on your face. How can he share the same energy as his friends when you feel like you’ve already slipped away?

“So, are you guys like, together?” Argyle asks innocently, pushing the conversation along. “Congrats either way, my dudes.”

You want the ground to swallow you up whole. For all the talking you’ve done with the metal-head, you’ve not discussed a lot about what any of this means. The plan was to do so last night, before Chrissy’s voice notes. Plans shift. Mere moments ago, you said you’d talk before it’s time to go. You certainly didn’t think you’d be having this conversation in front of / thanks to your friends.

“We’re not together,” you say, blinking the embarrassment away, and the whole table looks at you. Including Eddie, whose lips part as if to say something different.

And he does.

“We uhm,” the metal-head clears his throat. “We actually haven’t talked about it.”

“Not for lack of trying” You mean it as a whisper, for no one in particular to hear. It comes out a little more intense than that. 

Eddie leans forward. A snap judgement.

“You really want to do this here?” He asks quietly.

“Okay,” Robin chimes, “Guys, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, the dryness becoming unbearable. “All the arguing last night, and one reason we didn’t talk, would be my ex-girlfriends fault.”

Steve shouts, “I knew it!”, while you flutter your eyes closed. Breathing in, then out.

Last night. You decide, a little too late, that last night would’ve been a good idea to finish the argument. Wrap this cursed graduation party topic up, once and for all.

Instead, you gave into deep confessions and Eddie’s beautiful chocolate-button eyes, his light touches and the sensation of his lips on yours.

The group is chattering. They’re pressing Eddie for more details on what his hell-of-an ex did this time. He’s trying his best to fend them off: intentions may be innocent, but it’s none of their business. Unfortunately, he’s not having much luck.

Eventually, he cracks.

“I slept with her.”

Opening your eyes at that moment, you look at him again. His attention is already on you. Apologetic, sad.

“Well, duh, dude,” Robin begins, “You dated her. We kinda assumed you boinked.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Before,” he says, pauses. You can see him swallow his nerves. “The night of the graduation party.”

Silence stretches across the table.

And then you realise something.

You have to leave. Alone.

The flight to Vegas, and everything in between, cannot happen. How can you entertain the idea of falling for someone who, aside from wild confessions, doesn’t want to talk things through?

He too is always finding an exit strategy. Later, later, later. Eddie says later and nothing happens because there’s something different that gets in the way. His own excuses since he too is afraid to get hurt.

“Dude,” Steve begins, “That’s like…”

“It’s fine,” you chime. “That’s one of the things we actually did talk about. Not completely, but more than other stuff. ‘Cause we’ve done a lot of catching up, but uh, it’s all been very surface level.”

“Surface level?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Aside from Chrissy’s confession, we haven’t talked about anything real, Eddie.” You continue. “And we probably won’t because one of us will always find an excuse. Plus, there’s just too many other variables that make things difficult and as nice as this weekend has been,” you pause, heart hammering inside your chest, “We should stop kidding ourselves.”

His jaw locks into place.

“If that’s how you feel,” he says, monotone.

You nod, then blatantly lie. “That’s how I feel.”

Eddie stands. Chair sliding, falling backwards with force. He leaves before anyone else can add to the shitsorm that’s just transpired. Steve follows after his friend, shooting you an apologetic glance before he leaves. Robin and Nancy are suddenly on either side of you. The blonde telling you how she’s sorry for pushing this topic and the brunette reminding you that this doesn’t have to end. You freeze their voices out. Focusing on only one thing: the heartbreak in Eddie’s eyes as you spoke the words you didn’t mean.

Only a few seconds, you think, that’s all it ever takes to ruin a good thing.

After breakfast, you don’t care to stay much longer.

Itching instead, to get back to Fort Wayne. See your mom. Cry about everything while she hugs you. Maybe you’ll stay there a couple of days. Call in sick to work. Fake an emergency. Have her piece you back together. Maybe, while you’re with her, you’ll change your mind— No.

One by one, the group exchange goodbyes. Quick and long hugs. Promises of staying in touch. Some tears. A lot of pained laughter. 

Robin says she’ll call every day and she’ll see you soon, for her girlfriend's birthday bash.

Nancy reassures her and Jonathan will also plan a trip to see you, and once again tells you about the room at her future house with your name on it. You stifle a sniffle and embrace her for a second too long.

Jonathan offers some wisdom. The silent killer, Jonathan Byers. A man of very few words yet, as you have come to experience, they’re somehow always the right ones. His hug is quick and you appreciate that about him. No mushy things needed.

Argyle announces loud and proud how it’s been nice to meet you, get to know you. “Likewise,” you tell him honestly and exchange a fistbump.

Steve’s next on the goodbye train. This hug you don’t particularly want to let go of. His strong arms hold you tightly, as if he’s trying to take away all of your worries and pain. In a hushed whisper, he apologises for what happened earlier and says how he only wants you to be happy — a sentiment not so dissimilar to the first conversation you had together this weekend. You place a soft kiss on his cheek and tell him you love him, because it’s true. He smiles, forehead pressed to your own.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Platonically, the feeling is not as scary.

When you break apart, you glance between the group and a lump forms in your throat. These are the best people you have ever met and reconnecting with them this weekend is what really matters, at the end of the day.

This group, plus Eddie.

Because Eddie is currently not here. He didn’t come to say goodbye.

And as you stride down to your car, glancing over your shoulder one last time, at your friends, at the house, you feel a thousand times worse for wear.

Until the front door opens with a violent shake.

Eddie comes into view. He’s got a wild expression on his face as he barrels down the front porch steps, then the gravel which crunches underneath his sneakers.

He pushes through your mutual group of friends and doesn’t stop his pace until he’s face-to-face with you, peering down into your surprised eyes, slightly breathless.

“It’s not been surface level,” he says.

“Eddie,” you begin, but his thumb is suddenly pressed against your bottom lip and you stop dead in your tracks.

“I’ve been head over heels in love with you for a very long time, angel.” Eddie states, a nervous tick in his voice because you don’t do well with proclamations, but he’s not going to let you leave this time.

(Never. Again.)

“Long before this weekend, definitely over the last three years, and before the graduation party, before Billy. Probably, actually,” he swallows, “I’ve been in love with you since the very first time I saw you.”

Tears brim the corners of your eyes as the metal-head continues.

“And I know there’s a lot we haven’t talked about and a lot we need to figure out, but this thing we have, baby, I’ll be damned if I let you get in that car right now thinking that all we’ve done is surface level.”

“Eddie,” you try again.

He shakes his head. “Unless you’re going to tell me you’re staying to have a proper conversation, the one I owed you yesterday, I don’t want to hear it.”

Someone — Robin — shouts, “Kiss him, you fool.” and the rest of the group snickers. Well, Argyle and Steve snicker, while Jonathan and Nancy remprimend the lot.

Then they lead them back into the house, leaving you with this boy who is wildly in love with you, and who you perhaps love back, but how can you even begin to tell him that, since the last time you uttered those words, they were to someone who died.

“Please, angel.” Eddie pleads.

You open your mouth, then close it just as fast, chewing instead, on the inside of your cheek for what feels like eternity. In reality, it’s only a split-second while your brain works out what to do.

When you lean forward, inhaling his breath, his scent, him, you don’t intend to kiss him. You do anyway. Softly, tenderly.

And suddenly, your arms are around his neck and his hands are on your waist. He’s pinning you to the side of the car and his knee is wedged between your thighs. Your fingers pull his brunette locks and he bites your bottom lip, hungry, needy, pleading for something else entirely than a conversation.

“Okay,” you mutter against his parted lips, “Let’s talk.”

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