#steve harringon x reader

[im-robins-bitch]

Hii,

If your up for it could u write a fruity four x reader imagine based off of the song tongues and teeth by the crane wives where reader runs into a ex that used to treat them horribly and made them believe that all they could do was hurt other people triggering those old feelings leading them to pull away from Steve, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy

(Sorry for the long ask 🤍)

Poison (fruity four x g!n reader)

Or, You run into your ex and find yourself reflecting on your past self, do you deserve the love you find yourself surrounded with? (3.4k)

Anon, Sorry this took so long, I love the Crane Wives sm I was really excited by this request so I wanted to make it perfect and then it accidentally got really long and filled with irrelevant scenes that I had to scrap and will probably be posted at some point. I hope you like it lmk <3 Thank you so much for the request

Reader was in a toxic, abusive relationship (No scenes of this relationship and it is only briefly mentioned that it was abusive). Reader in this fic was mentioned to be an asshole in the past, but it's up to you whether she truly was or if she just thinks that bc of their ex.

Warnings: mentions of toxic, abusive relationships. Reader thinks she deserved to be hurt, the ex now has a baby. Ex threw things at the reader. Food, depictions of cooking and eating.

“You remember the voices Eddie taught you?” 

Steve sighs into his bowl of lucky charms, stirring the spoon around restlessly. His cereal had gone soggy, something he hated, but he hadn’t had a single spoonful since he sat down. 

“I remember,” He mumbled, looking at the milk in his bowl as if it would conjure up all the answers of the universe for him. You rub a warm hand up and down his back to try and soothe him, it works, a bit. 

Then Eddie's head is poking over Steve’s shoulder, eyeing Steve’s bowl in a way that you know means trouble. Instead of the usual playful spat, that always ends with Steve reluctantly sharing his bowl of cereal, Steve passes Eddie the spoon without argument. 

Eddie kisses his cheek sweetly, rubbing his nose into the chub of his cheek before digging in. “Wanna give us a taste?” Eddie questions, mouth full. 

Steve’s cheeks are pink as he shakes his head, his perfectly styled hair not moving an inch. You can taste all the hairspray he’s used this morning. You keep your warm palm against his back, hoping some of it will seep into his bones and make him a little less tense. 

He’s been like this all week and you know he won’t be able to relax until the day is over. Getting a placement at a kindergarten had been all Steve had talked about all year, all he had been looking forward to. Now it was happening, he was terrified. 

Today was make or break, it was his first attempt at a storytime. 

He had spent a long time researching books with Nancy and had rehearsed reading the book to you and Robin and had practised his voices with Eddie. You thought all this made him overqualified for the position. 

There couldn’t be a person out there who cared so much about this. It was just Steve all over, he cared so much. He loved so much. It made you want to swaddle him in your arms and keep him safe forever. 

“If any of those punks make fun of you let me know and I’ll kick their ass,” Eddie garbled around another mouthful of lucky charms. 

“You think they’ll make fun of me,” Steve worried, his first clenching around the countertop. 

“Eddie!” Nancy chided. Eddie almost lept from his seat at Nancy’s sudden appearance. She stood in the doorway, as perfect as ever. Brown briefcase held tightly in her hand, her blazer hanging perfectly on her small frame. “You’re overthinking this Steve, it’ll be fine,” Nancy assured, kissing the top of Steve’s head. “And for the last time Eddie, no kicking children,” 

“Some kids deserve it” He argues.

“Ready?” Nancy asks you, ignoring Eddie, much to his annoyance.

You cast a wary look at Steve, you were reluctant to leave him alone like this, but you were the girl’s lift to work, so you had to trust Eddie would find a better way to comfort your boyfriend than his current tactic. 

“Ready” You confirmed, checking your reflection quickly in the toaster. 

Nancy pressed a kiss to the back of Eddie's head, eyelashes fluttering against his frizzy hair. Then she moved to Steve, lips lingering a little longer on his cheek.

“Ro-”

“Here!” Robin yelled, interrupting Nancy’s call of her name. She had a reputation for being late that she was trying to put behind her. 

“Let's go!” Nancy sang, holding your arm in one hand and wrapping her other around Robin’s waist to pull her towards the door. 

“Good luck Steve!” The three of you called together.

-

You’re still thinking about Steve and wondering how his story time went as you’re organising the vinyl at work. You wonder if you should call him, trying to remember when the kid's nap time is so you can get him on the phone. You don’t want to interrupt, but you can’t help but worry about him. 

In between thoughts of Steve, you’re trying to keep track of which ABBA albums need to be restocked.

You’re so busy thinking of ways to celebrate or cheer him up in case of disaster, that you miss the chime of the bell.

“Still working here huh?” You freeze at the familiar voice, all thoughts leaving your mind. The one voice you wished you’d never have to hear again. “Some people just aren’t meant to change I guess,” 

You stand up, brushing off the dust on your knees. You hate how you’re immediately flooded with embarrassment. “Can I help you?” You ask in the friendliest voice you can muster. 

They take it in offence, hands held aloft in surrender, “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it, you really haven’t changed at all,” They laugh, your heart beating faster in your chest at the sound of it. You hate how they still have such an effect on you. 

“Did you want something?” You ask again, colder this time. Letting the hatred you feel seep through. Your arms, crossed over your chest, erupt in goosebumps. You can feel your heartbeat like it’s in your ears, pounding again and again. It’s an effort to remember how to breathe without it sounding rugged. 

You were both bad for each other, that’s what you settled on after the fact. They would tear you to shreds and act as if you were the one in the wrong. You could be just as cruel, the relationship was a toxic one and it turned you both sour. 

 It took so many nights of talking and looking back on the relationship to realise that you didn’t need to be the person they painted you to be. You hadn’t been perfect, no one was, but you felt you had learnt from your mistakes and hoped they had done the same. 

 “Thought we could have an adult conversation, but obviously not,” They sneered, tone condescending. 

They looked around the store you’re usually proud of with disdain. “God, I’m so fucking glad we broke up,” They laugh, flicking the sleeve of a vinyl, making you scowl. You feel the same but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “My life has been so much better ever since you left it,” 

It’s like a dagger to the chest. If you were in your right mind, maybe you would wonder why if they felt like that they would seek you out. Especially since they don’t even bother to buy anything before they leave.

-

When Robin had last seen you, you were pushing her out of the car, trying to stifle your giggles. 

In her rush to get out of the house on time, she forgot her scarf. You had bundled her up in your own which looked ridiculous. Eddie had knitted it for you, but then he got so caught up in seeing how long he could make it that when you wore it, it went down past your knees. 

You thought it looked great, but it was a bit of a tripping hazard so when it came to Robin you wrapped it around her neck over and over until it was an appropriate length. Only she couldn’t move her neck to look down. You had been laughing at her the whole drive, much to her annoyance. 

Now all she wanted was for you to look at her and laugh, but you didn’t even spare her a glance when she walked into the house, or when she unspooled the long scarf from around her neck. 

You’re still in your work clothes, even though you must have gotten home an hour ago at least. The TV is playing credits, but you’re watching them like they’re the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. 

All she wants to do is touch you. She restrains herself though, she knows people don’t always want to be touched and it can make things worse. 

As if you can tell that she’s about to ask you something, you change channels and turn up the volume on the TV. You lean against the side of the sofa, further out of her reach and feign interest in a Miami Vice episode. 

Getting the message she leaves you to it and joins Steve and Nancy in the kitchen, who are chatting over the kitchen counter. Nancy has already started making a pot of soup. 

Steve is dutifully making grilled cheese sandwiches and plain slices of toast. They work in unison, Nancy passing Steve the butter before he even needs to ask, Steve wrapping one arm around her hip when he joins her on the hob, warming up the pan so he can toast the bread. 

He’s left two cheese toasties to the side, to be grilled when Eddie gets home. 

“Not waiting?” Robin asks, catching the pair's attention. Nancy smiles, wordlessly passing her wooden spoon to Steve who accepts it without question. She holds Robin tightly in her arms, pressing kisses to her cheeks. She didn’t realise how much she needed a hug until now and how much better it would make her feel after your rejection. 

“Thought some food might cheer everyone up,” Nancy explains, nodding towards the living room. Robins nods, squeezing Nancy back, hoping she won’t let go of her anytime soon. 

“Did she say anything?” Steve asks, looking away from the soup briefly. 

Robin shakes her head sadly and Nancy makes a sympathetic noise in her ear, rubbing her manicured hand up and down Robin’s back. “What about you?” Robin asks Nancy.

“Nothing,” Nancy sighs, pulling away from Robin when she realises that Steve has stopped stirring her soup. She bats his hand away and hip-checks him out of the way, deciding to take charge again. At least that's something she has control over. 

The rest of the dinner is made in relative silence, Robin sets out the cutlery on the living room table, along with everyone’s preferred drinks. At one point Robin can tell you’re about to make an excuse not to eat at all, but a raised brow from Nancy has you sinking to the floor.

Robin’s eyes have been nervously flickering from her soup to you. She’ll see your lips part for a moment like you’re about to say something, but you close them just as fast, swallowing down soup and tearing at your bread. 

You all eat hunched over the living room table, Eddie is missed even more than ever as silence haunts the table. No one can work out what to say.

You can feel yourself putting a dampener on everything but feel so shaken from the interaction this afternoon that it’s all that you can think about. You’ve heard people say their exes were the worst things that happened to them, but you never thought you would have been one of those. 

Had you truly been that bad?

When Nancy leans over to grab your hand you smile at her or attempt to. Then when she lets go your hand sinks off the table and down to your thigh out of reach. 

What if one day they thought about you like that? What if one day they’re glad that you broke up? They continue without you, happier without you. 

It’s then that you remember, to your horror, all about Steve’s story time. The cake you had planned to buy him in celebration.  How could you be so selfish, forgetting about something Steve had been worried about for so long? 

“How did story time go?” You ask, timidly. 

Robin and Nancy are patient, but Steve has never been. He’s going out of his mind with worry. Perhaps it's because he’s suddenly lost a girlfriend before. Thought she had loved him the way he loved her until she pulled the rug out from under his feet and told him it wasn’t working and that they were nothing. 

It took so long for him to come back from that, even though he’s over the girl who said it, he still occasionally fears that all this love could be fleeting.  

He smiles, abandoning the last of his toastie to thread his greasy fingers between your own. They slip against your hand and when he squeezes, he tries to push as much love into it as he can. “It went really well,”

“Yeah?” You ask more enthusiastically. Steve’s smiles have always been contagious. The pretty curve of his smile and the movement of his freckles as his cheeks apple, it’s the kind of smile that makes you believe in love at first sight.

“Mrs Lemon wants me to read again tomorrow,” Steve grins. 

Everyone at the table erupts in excitement at Steve’s news. Robin drops the last bit of her toastie into her soup and has to fish it out with her spoon, fingers turning red in her attempts. Nancy's hand rubs up and down Steve’s thigh, in congratulations for his good news and for bringing you out of your melancholy. 

Robin has you hold up her glass to her lips so she can take a sip of water without getting her soupy fingers all over the glass. It causes her to dribble water all over the table and she can’t even find it in her to be embarrassed when it results in giggles and your fingers brushing across her chin to catch the drips. 

When everyone finished you’re quick to gather everyone's bowls and dismiss any help. You want to feel useful after sulking on the sofa while everyone else has made dinner. 

-

This whole weekend you had been a whirlwind of productivism. Unless Eddie was forcing you to sit on the sofa with his head in your lap, you were doing something for someone else. Any errand anyone was putting off was finished by you that weekend. You had gotten the juice stains out of Steve’s jumper, sewn up the hole in Robin’s jacket pocket, reorganised Nancy’s toiletry cupboard and buffed her briefcase. Eddie had to coerce you into a cuddle to stop you from sewing up the holes in his favourite socks. 

He hadn’t attended last night's dinner but had heard all about it from a concerned Nancy and spent the whole weekend attached at your side. 

He did everything one-handed, not wanting to spend a second not touching you. It was so out of character for you to be so withdrawn. Steve and Robin assumed it was a bad day or more specifically a bad customer. 

Nancy and Eddie had a gut feeling it was something more important. You didn’t often keep things to yourself, you found talking about problems usually stopped them from bothering you so much. If whatever happened hadn’t felt fixable to you by a rant and a cuddle, something must have happened. 

Eddie wanted to be there, ready, for when you wanted to tell him. He never wanted anyone to feel as alone as he once felt, drowning in his worries, before his uncle took him in. 

Nancy, though claiming she was taking a more relaxed approach, glanced at you about every two seconds, checking your reactions. 

So when you had said you needed to go out to the store, Nancy and Eddie shared a look and insisted they both needed to come with you. Eddie for some smokes and Nancy for a specific body lotion she claimed would be too hard for you to find. 

They were so obvious it would be annoying if they weren’t so endearing. 

-

You ended up in Bradleys.

You had been antsy to get in, buy the cake you planned to get for Steve on Friday and then transform yourself into the partner your lovers deserved. 

Instead, Eddie had taken his sweet time driving you all there, even though normally he called the speed limit a suggestion. Then he convinced you that you needed to walk up and down each aisle to make sure you didn’t ‘forget’ anything. It would have been an accomplishment to forget anything when you only have one item to obtain each. 

The basket hooked on one arm, you hooked through the other,  Eddie was strutting down the isles bobbing his head along to the pop songs he ‘hated’. Even though Eddie’s reasoning was ridiculous, it did feel relaxing to take your time walking through the various aisles together. 

Eddie’s fingers were tracing up and down Nancy’s spine as she held two types of tea in her hand, reading the backs carefully. “Do you think these work?” She asked, holding out the packages for you to inspect, two different teas both promising to help with sleep.

You took one out of her hands, to inspect the ingredient list. Robin’s mum had said something about lavender last time you had spoken, but you weren’t sure that was digestible. 

“If you need help sleeping, I’ve got the perfect solution” Eddie teased, arms snaking around Nancy’s waist and squeezing as he dipped his face against her neck. Nancy shivered, feeling his cold nose trace her neck and his curls tickle her collarbones, the basket digging into her sides.

“Stop!” She said, trying not to smile, wiggling out of his arms and lightly slapping at his arms, “I can’t take you anywhere,” 

Eddie pressed a wet kiss to her cheek. His arm went over her shoulder, grabbing the box of tea out of Nancy’s hand and dropping it into the basket. “Mrs Norris used to drink that one,” He explained, taking the other one from your hand to put it back on the shelf. “Always knocked her out cold when she was supposed to be babysitting me”

Nancy huffed, crossing her hands across her chest as Eddie encouraged you both to the end of the aisle, hands wandering. “You have no shame” She scolded, cheeks burning at the wink he gave her in response. Still, he dropped his hands from her but continued to lead you both down to the frozen section, in search of ice cream. 

She stopped at a display of lip balms, letting the two of you go on ahead. Her gaze did not linger on his fingers curled around the basket handle, or the dip of his spine that his cropped band shirt exposed.

You were still smiling over Eddie as you watched him search the freezers for the giant tub of Neapolitan-flavoured ice cream. He always made a big display of it, sometimes he and Robin would compete to see who could keep their hands in the freeze the longest. 

Nancy soon floated behind you, her floral perfume altering you to her presence long before she slid her hand into your own. She leaned into your space, so close you could smell the curl cream she and Eddie shared. The pair, despite their differences, had a surprising amount in common. 

“How mad do you think he’ll be if we refuse to hold his hand when he gets the ice cream?” Nancy whispered. 

“I think we’ll hear about it for the rest of the night,” 

Eddie cranes his head, looking you both up and down conspiringly. He fished the last tub from the back of the freezer and dropped it into the basket with a thud. It crushes the flimsy box of tea, but Eddie’s attention is on the guilty expression you’re wearing. 

He holds his freezing hands out expectantly, wanting you to come and warm him up after his valiant efforts of searching in the freezers. 

Nancy shakes her head at him, but his doe eyes can’t hold you off for long so soon he’s holding one of your hands in both his. You flinch at his touch and he pouts childishly, lashes fluttering. 

“I risk my fingers for you, and this is the thanks I get,” Eddie huffs at Nancy over the top of your head, “At least you love me, sweetheart,” He coos kissing the side of your head. 

“You hardly risked your fingers,” Nancy says rolling her eyes as she tugs your hand to lead you down to the toiletries aisle. You think half-heartedly about the cake, vanilla and shaped like a heart, that you wanted to get Steve, but then think of the crushed box of tea, it might be best to leave it for last. 

“I was very close to hypothermia,” Eddie dramatises, flexing his fingers against yours. You feel the cold bump of his rings, they’re usually cold but feel even more so after being in the freezer. 

Nancy ignores him and walks straight to the body lotion, hand reaching out for her usual choice, but lingering on a couple of new scents. Strawberries & Cream sounds like it would smell pretty nice, plus the bottle matches her nails. 

She picks it up, dropping your hand in the process and uncaps the lid to give it a smell. Eddie takes your dropped hand before it can even fall to your side, now, he threads his fingers through yours with a giddy smile. 

He pecks a kiss on your nose catching you off guard and pulls you off to the side next to the baby powders, moving you away from an oncoming cart. 

You lean in to kiss his own but are brought out of your lovesick stupor by a harsh cough.  Eddie glares at the culprit, kissing your lips extra firm. The person coughs again and you push Eddie away from you and try to move out of the way, catching sight of the person coughing at you. 

It’s always a shock to see your ex unexpectedly, it’s even worse when they’re with a beautiful partner and they have a child sitting in the cart tugging a little plush to their chest. It shocks you for about a million reasons, the most hurtful being that the entire time you had been together they claimed to never want children. 

Yet here, in front of you, is the clear proof that they did. 

“Nancy!” 

It’s a small town, everyone knows everyone. Still, it shocks you that their new partner knows Nancy. You feel so different from your old self that a reminder of it is terrifying. 

Suddenly you’re scared, what had your ex told them? How badly had they painted you? what if they tell Nancy? 

The worst part is that if they were to tell her, it would have been entirely your fault. How could you be mad at someone for telling the truth? You hadn’t been the greatest partner in the past, but you were trying to make up for that. It felt like you had made up for that. 

You make eye contact with your ex, who isn’t even trying to hide their disappointment at seeing you twice in such a short amount of time, still, it’s obvious by the conversation Nancy is getting into that they’ll be standing around for a while. 

Your eyes try to look at everything, but the person who’s fucked with your head for the last couple of days. The child, old enough that it must have been born within a year of your breakup, hair a dark brown colour, coils around their shoulders. They look so happy, a picture-perfect family. 

You excuse yourself, using the cake you need as an excuse to go to a different aisle. Eddie tries to go after you but is cut off by an old lady jamming her shopping cart in front of him with a rude huff, muttering about young people these days. She runs over his foot and he almost takes down the entire shelving unit when he backs into it.

When Eddie finds you, standing in front of an empty shelf, sniffing into your hands, he’s crushed. 

-

The drive back had been awkward. 

Nancy had found you both and sent Eddie to pay for everything while she took you to the car. You refused to cite anything but the cake’s being sold out as the reason for your tears, but it’s clear that there was something more. 

It isn’t until you’re home, that the extent of your upset is clear. At the supermarket, you had clung onto Nancy and Eddie for life, feeling personally devastated at the thought of either of them leaving you.

Now leaving was all you could think of doing. 

You had packed your bag, unpacked and re-packed it again. You just couldn’t get it out of your head, how much happier everyone might be without you. Your last relationship played through your mind like a reel.

All the times your exe had yelled at you, called you a bitch, the problem. You could be forgetful, self-absorbed, hurtful. You thought you had changed, but you had proved yourself wrong on Friday, ignoring Steve’s accomplishment to stew in your self-obsession. 

There was a knock on your door, but it was a warning rather than a request as Steve and Robin barged in without waiting for a response. 

“Are you ok?” Robin asked, skirting around your clutter to land on the bed, beside the duffle bag you were about to re-pack. “Actually no, I know you’re not ok, so don’t bother lying,” Robin huffed, pushing the fly aways from her face and staring at you in determination. 

Her hands darted out to your sides, holding you firmly in place. On her knees, on your bed, she begged you to tell her exactly what was wrong, “You always feel better after talking to me, I can help you, whatever it is. If it’s working at the vinyl store we’ll get you a new job, you could come to work with me in the museum archives?” 

“It’s not…it’s not that,” You stutter, fingers feeling tingly as your eyes dart nervously from Robin to Steve, who hasn’t moved from standing at the door. You can’t see his expression, but the vein on his neck is close to bursting. 

I’m the problem, you think, but you’re all too sweet to realise and you’ll be too kind to tell me when you do work it out. 

Robin’s nose bumps your sternum bringing your attention back to her. She presses a kiss to the swell of your stomach. Her hands are ever wandering, frantic in their need to comfort you, but unsure where to go. “You can tell me,” She promises, her sea-blue eyes boring into yours. Your eyes water as you try to think of what to say. 

“You’re leaving,” Steve’s voice is cold, and his stare is even colder. He nods to the duffle bag on the bed, glaring at it with the heat of a thousand suns. 

Robin looks at the bag that she hadn’t registered, shaking her head in disbelief, until she sees the crumbling expression on your face and realises it’s true. Her hands drop from your body and she darts from the bed like a person burnt. She brushes past Steve, rushing out of your room and you can hear her fast footsteps retreat down the hall.

“You…you don’t understand,” You try to defend, hands falling into fists in frustration. 

“No, I understand,” Steve spits, arms crossed across his chest, muscles clenched, “You’re just like her, only so much worse,” 

“Ste-”

“Don’t” Steve scoffs “You promised us you wouldn’t do this, promised me.” His voice breaks and he has to turn his face to the side, collect himself and wipe the rouge tears that he let escape. 

You sink in on yourself, “It’s…it’s for the best, I’m…I,”

Steve laughs, fist banging against the door frame, startling you, you have to steady your hands on the bed to stop yourself from falling. 

Your stomach lurches, it doesn’t feel right. You’re last breakup hadn’t ended like this, they hadn’t been mad at you for leaving, they had been mad you hadn’t broken up sooner. That they hadn’t been the one to dump you.

You fear you might have made a terrible mistake, but then remember what they had said when you broke up. That you were poison, that you ruined everything that you touched, how much happier they had been before you. Now you knew how much happier they were without you afterwards too. 

They would thank you in the long run. 

“If you walk out this door right now, I’m never going to forgive you,” Steve’s heart was cracking. Just like last time, he was caught off guard. His voice was stern, but his expression was heartbreaking. 

“Steve!” Yelled Nancy, pushing past him in the doorway and walking over to you instead. Her hair was half dry, one side still dripping water onto the collar of her shirt. 

Eddie, hair wrapped in the band shirt he had worn to the store, mirrored Nancy, only taking Steve into his arms instead of you. “Let’s all just calm down a second,” Nancy suggested, pulling you down to sit on her lap. She threw your duffle bag off the bed, sending it clattering into your wardrobe. 

“Take a deep breath,” Eddie suggested, palm warm over Steve’s chest. Robin fiddled with Steve’s fingers, eyeing everyone warily. Steve matched his breathing to Eddie’s, lips wobbling as Eddie’s thumb wiped the sticky tears from his cheeks. 

If you felt awful before, now you feel diabolical. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You confessed, trying to push out of Nancy's soothing hold because you felt so undeserving. She had a surprising amount of strength though and held you firm against her chest, “I didn’t mean, I don’t want to hurt anybody, this is exactly what I don’t want, I just want you all to be happy” 

Robin, tentatively let go of Steve’s hand, who Eddie was leading further into the bedroom. Nancy wrangled you so you were leaning against her where she sat against the headboard. Her head resting on your shoulder while her hand was rubbing up and down your back. 

Robin sat down at the foot of the bed, hand reaching out carefully to rub at your leg. “Please can you explain? So we can all understand, why you want to…leave,” Robin asked, hardly able to say the word.

The bed dipped as Eddie sat himself down to the side of you and Nancy, but Steve still refused to sit, standing up with his thighs touching the bed, hand clasped tightly in Eddie’s. 

You took a deep breath and tried to explain “I saw, my ex, first they visited me at work-”

Steve’s grip on Eddie white-knuckled as he scoffed, assuming the worst. You shrunk further back into Nancy making her glare at Steve who rolled his eyes. He was still sure you were about to rip out their hearts. 

“Go on,” Nancy encouraged.

“He said, he was glad we broke up and at first I just thought, yeah me too, but then I started thinking and,I was awful,”

“Did you start thinking that? Or did he make you think that?” Nancy asked. 

“Well, I mean, I guess he implied it and he always used to say it, like I would ruin things and he would throw things, sometimes, when I did something bad,” 

Steve sat down on the bed, looking at you tearfully, “He would throw things at you?” Now he felt himself crying for an entirely different reason. 

“It wasn’t- I was just as bad,”

“Did you throw things at them?” Questioned Robin. 

You shook your head, “No, but I de-”

“I know you’re not about to say you deserved it, no one ever deserves that sweetheart,” 

“I was an asshole, I was cruel and hurtful.” You explained, “You can say they shouldn’t have hurt me, but I hurt them just as much with every word I said. How can I deserve to be happy like this? I’ve been trying to change, but what if i can’t” 

Steve feels a rush of sympathy through his chest. The anger that surged through his body turned from a fiery rage to a simmering heat, directed at whoever made you feel like this. He knows exactly how it feels to try to change, but not be given a chance. 

To this day the title of King Steve follows him around like a bad dream. He’s taken responsibility for his actions and changed for the better, but for a long time, he wondered if it would ever be enough to make up for the hurt he had caused. Did he deserve the friendship Robin offered, that had led him down the path to this? 

You gulped eyes starting to water. “I just don’t want to ruin things, I don’t want to hurt anyone I love again, I’m so sorry Steve, I already hurt you so much and if I stay I might-”

Steve shuffled forward, pulling you roughly from Nancy’s embrace into his own. His strong arms wrapped around you and his tear-stained cheeks stuck to your own.  “The only way you could truly hurt me is if you left right now,” He pulled himself out of your embrace so he could hold his face in your hands. 

“You deserve to be happy, you deserve a chance to change,” Steve promises, tacky lips pressing into the top of your head over and over again, trying to let it sink in. 

“For the record, this version of you you’re describing, I don’t think I’ve ever met them,” Eddie says, palm firm as it rubs up and down Steve’s quaking back. 

“But I- I forgot all about Steve’s big day,” You huff, voice thick with frustration. 

“Honey, you spent the morning comforting me and asked me about it when you got home.” Steve placates. 

“Not right away though, I sat on the sofa for ages, just thinking about myself,”

“Think that’s understandable after the run-in you had,” Steve’s hand keeps a warm grip on your cheeks, eyes softening as he kisses underneath your teary eye.

“Lovely, you’ve never made any of us feel anything but loved and I hope you feel the same about us” Nancy offered, stroking your shoulder with soft fingers. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I even thought about leaving I was just, so caught up and I wasn’t thinking properly.”

 “Do you still want to?” Asked Robin tentatively, hands ghosting the sides of your leg. 

You shook your head, lip starting to wobble, “I never wanted to, I just thought- I thought I had to,- Oof!” You exclaimed, Robin’s soft body dropping on top of you and Steve, squishing you down against Nancy, who took the weight like a champ. 

Her arms winded around Steve, you and Nancy, squeezing Steve so tight he thought she might break one of his ribs. “I think as long as us five stick together, we can get through anything” 

“Well said Buckley,” Grinned Eddie, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

Eventually, you all moved from your room into Nancy and Steve’s which had the biggest bed. 

Nancy was removing the decorative pillows from the bed to place them on the ottoman instead. Eddie was helping, but his idea of helping was throwing them at Robin who was trying to dodge them while drinking the tea Nancy had gotten her at the store. A potentially deadly combination that required Nancy’s intervention. 

Steve was with you in the en suite, the two of you hadn’t spent much time apart since the earlier misunderstanding. Steve had joined you in the shower while Nancy and Eddie finished drying their hair. 

You had shared a bowl of ice cream, even though Steve didn’t like ice cream all that much anymore while watching the Documentary Eddie borrowed from the library for Robin. 

Steve had just finished washing your face for you, letting you sit on the counter. Now you were brushing his hair for him. You started carefully combing it back with a fine-tooth comb, but now we're just using your fingers, styling it wildly to make him laugh. 

You were currently attempting a mohawk with little success. He had one hand wrapped around his toothbrush while the other was holding your wrist, fingers pressing into your pulse. It felt good to be the reason Steve laughed instead of the reason he had been crying. 

“I’m sorry Steve,” You whispered again, against his forehead, pressing a light kiss between his eyebrows. 

“Already forgiven lovely,” Steve promised, bending his head to kiss your pulse point. “ but, please tell me what I did wrong” He murmured, turning bashful.

“What?” Now it was your turn to look at Steve in shock. “You didn’t do anything wrong?” 

“Please, you can tell me, otherwise how will I not do it again?” Steve spares you a glance with eyes so earnest it breaks your heart. 

Steve had felt so guilty since he heard your confession, you had thought that you would make them unhappy, in his head it translated that he hadn’t made it clear just how much he adores you. 

“You didn’t Stevie, I promise. I was too in my own head” You kiss him gently “I still am, to be honest,” You confess smoothing his hair down behind his ears, kissing him once again for good measure. “I promise I’ll tell you next time I start spiralling,”

He burrowed his face in your neck, inhaling the smell of strawberries and cream. It scared him to think he would never be this close to you ever again, that he could lose out on all this. “God I hope there isn’t a next time, I love you, you make me- you make us so much happier,”

“Thank you for caring about me, I know it can be hard,” 

“Caring about you is easy, it’s like breathing I don’t even have to think about it, I just do it” 

“Stevie,” You mumble, tucking yourself against his shoulder, “You’re such a loverboy,” You peck him again. 

After another five minutes of cuddling, you go into the bedroom and find yourself in a love pile on the bed. 

Robin is smushed, out cold on top of you and Nancy. Nancy flanks you one one side and Steve is on your other, breath puffing against your neck. Eddie is wrapped around him, his heavy leg draped across you and Steve. 

If he was ever right, about you being poison, you’re certain you’ve found your antidote. 

masterlist

[moonstruckme]

Steve x Wednesday!reader and the gang really didn’t expect Steve to end up w someone so different from all his exs but also low-key think she’s way out of his league??? Found your fics and your writing is sick 😋😋😋😋

Thanks for your request sweetheart! I haven't written wednesday!reader before so idk if this was too much? Or too little? Anyway, I hope you like it, mwah <3

Steve Harrington x Wednesday!reader ♡ 698 words

You hadn't been at all nervous to meet Steve's friends. Really, they probably should have been more nervous about meeting you.

You could be a bit off-putting at first, with your impassive stare and clipped, to-the-point manner of speaking. The few other girlfriends Steve had introduced to his friends had greeted them with smiles and nervous laughter, and Steve had caught Dustin and Mike whispering about just that when you'd gone to the bathroom.

Overall, though, Steve thinks this is going pretty well. Nancy had liked your giant combat boots, Eddie loved that you had the same taste in music, and when the kids found out how much you knew about mages and battle strategy, they'd grilled you for a solid twenty minutes before Steve had called them off, complaining that he was going to dream about their nerd jargon that night if they didn't shut up.

Now, Eddie and the boys are discussing the edition of their nerd game they'll be playing next week (how it even changes from week to week, Steve can never figure out), and you seem to be listening with mild interest when you turn towards him suddenly.

"I have to go home," you say, in your matter-of-fact way. "I left a potion on the stove, and its six hours are almost up."

Steve blinks at you. He should be used to this by now, but sometimes your hobbies still take him by surprise. "Alright," he says after a moment. "What's the potion for?"

Impossibly, your expression darkens. "Something ate my venus fly traps, and I intend to find out what."

Steve declines to ask what you plan to do when you do find them, or how whatever you're brewing will accomplish that. "Okay," he stands, looking for where he left his keys. "I'll drive."

"No, you can stay," you say, as if it makes no difference to you. "I want to cut through the woods to find some belladonna on my way."

He's not going to ask what you want with the poisonous berries, either. "You sure, honey?" You nod, and Steve sits back down. He knows better than to bother arguing with you once you've made up your mind. "Okay, be safe, alright? Text me when you're home."

He tilts his chin up, and you lean down to peck him on the lips, a brief, chaste thing compared to what you prefer behind closed doors.

"Bye, Y/N!" Eddie calls, and a chorus of goodbyes follow you out. As soon as the door closes behind you, every eye in the room turns on Steve.

"Steve, what the hell? She's so cool." Dustin says, sounding almost shocked.

"Yeah," Eddie chimes in. "Where the hell have you been hiding her, Harrington?"

Steve grins proudly. He known they liked you, but it doesn't hurt to hear it out loud. "Yeah?"

"Um, yeah," Max says. "She's hilarious."

Robin nods enthusiastically. "She is! She's so funny, and smart, too. Honestly, Steve, it's a good thing you're nice, because she's, like, way out of your league."

Steve blinks. Okay, ouch. This compliment session seems to be taking an unexpected turn. Up until today, no one was out of Steve Harrington's league. "You really think so?"

"Duh." Robin looks around for support, but only Dustin is nodding, everyone else having fallen unusually silent. "Oh, you guys are cowards. She's gorgeous."

"I know that," Steve says defensively.

"She does have better hair than you," Nancy says, somewhat apologetically, "and that's kind of your thing, so."

Steve blows out an exasperated breath, slouching back in his seat. He thinks you have better hair than him, but he didn't know everyone else would think that. And of course you're far too good for him, but aren't these supposed to be his friends? Any modicum of loyalty they'd had between them seems to have vanished.

"Whatever," Steve says. "You guys are just jealous."

Eddie sighs, his eyes sparkling with exaggerated infatuation. "I know I am. Don't let her get away from you, Harrington, or I might take her for myself."

Steve rolls his eyes. As if he'd be dumb enough to let that happen. He's happy to be your charity case forever.

[stevebabey]

hiiiiiii ruby i LOVE you and i would like to request a ❤️‍🔥 from the hundred different kisses list! 46. a swirling reunion kiss <3 love u xo @familyvideostevie

 hiiiii em <3 i love YOU and i hope u sincerely enjoy whipped as fuck boyfriend stevie <3 he's pathetic and i desire him carnally MWAH @familyvideostevie 1k+

It’s not often you and Steve are apart.

Definitely not for this long. Call it codependency or call it ‘we survived some tumultuous life-changing-but-in-a-bad-way shit together’ but it’s become a habit between the two of you.

You can have a couple nights apart, here and there, of course. But between the nightmares and Steve’s affinity for touch, it’s never too long before you wind up back attached at the hip.

A lifetime ago, before you knew anything about demogorgans or how to wield an axe to save your own skin, you would’ve kept yourself up at night wondering if you were being too clingy. Would’ve consulted gossip magazines and toed the line of flirty and playing hard to get.

Steve leaves no room for doubt; he’d have you around always if he could. It’s shown in his utter delight upon seeing you or in his pouty disappointment every time you have to go.

It just makes it all the worse when you do have to leave — this time in particular, it’s a week away, to visit your grandparents out of state.

Steve thinks a week is entirely too long and tells you so with a grumble, his face tucked away in your neck. You’re both tucked up on your bed but really, he’s supposed to be over to help you pack. Your suitcase sits open on your floor, untouched since Steve’s arrival and subsequent flop on your bed.

“It’s just a week,” You say, aiming to cheer him up, even just a little. Steve’s resounding grumble tells you that it hasn’t worked. In fact, he wrenches his face out and somehow, the crinkle between his brows gets impossibly deeper.

“Just a week? Are you even hearing yourself?”

You don’t mean to smile but your boyfriend is so dramatic that sometimes you can’t help it. You hide it behind a cough and try to school your expression back to seriousness — you are going to seriously miss him.

A week will be hard. But maybe not quite the impossible feat Steve seems to be making it out as. He looks as though you’ve asked him to consider raising a demodog together, all aghast in the face.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” You assure him sweetly. Reaching out, you card a hand through his soft hair, the strands fluttering against your fingers.

Steve sighs, his entire chest deflating a bit, and he wastes no time burying his face back into your neck. You manage to catch a faint mumble of what if i forget what you smell like? and this time, you actually can’t stop yourself from laughing aloud.

This only encourages Steve’s grumbling. He pinches your side, not meanly, and you squeal, batting his hand away. 

“It’s a serious concern!” He insists, wiggling his face out once more to face you with a pout.

You giggle lightly, just moving forward to press a quick peck to his puckered lips. Steve’s lashes flutter, momentarily distracted by the feel of your lips against his. He chases your lips, more disappointed when you don’t let him steal another kiss.

“You aren’t taking my boyfriend concerns seriously,” He whines, his hands setting alight with movement. Your apprehension grows as they near your sides, prime tickle zone, yet you can’t stop your smile.

“Guilty as charged.” You admit with a sheepish smile. His fingers move before you can seize the chance to wriggle away, beginning a relentless attack.

Very little packing gets done that night. You blame Steve when you show up at your grandparents with just two pairs of pants packed.

The week is hell. Mainly, because your grandparents are old-school and had frowned deeply when you had tried to sneak off to call Steve on the first night. It results in an accidental week-long detox from your boyfriend, no phone calls, no nothing.

By night three away, you have to admit, all his grumbling was correct — you desperately miss the sound of his voice, the scent on all his clothes. His boyfriend concerns were well-founded and you find yourself wishing you had stolen a sweater of his before you left.

It also means, by the time the week is done, you’re practically dancing in your seat with anticipation the entire drive home.

So, to see your doorstep empty, not even a glimpse of Steve’s maroon BMW on the drive in, sinks your heart just a bit. You're sure he'd come meet you today. All the excited energy you harbored seems to dial down a bit and suddenly, your suitcase seems even heavier than on your original departure.

You lug it up the stairs, steps heavy, and ignore the faint calls from your parents telling you they’re heading out to grab some takeout for dinner. Your appetite seems to have dwindled in your disappointment. Your only hunger is for a kiss.

It feels as though your heart has crumpled, just a bit, at Steve’s absence. For all his whinging and whining, you would’ve thought he’d be here the moment you returned. Worse, you know he doesn’t have a shift today. Your chest screws up a bit tighter at the knowledge of that.

Nudging open your door with a shoulder, you must look a picture of downtrodden, head hung low, feet dragging along the carpet. With a pathetic sigh, you all but drop your suitcase carelessly and begin to toe off your shoes.

You let out a little shiver at the breeze coming through your window — wait, your window? You didn’t leave your window open...

Head shooting up, you get about one second to notice him before Steve is on you. His arms are around your waist, head burrowing into the crook of your neck and you barely get out a surprised noise before your feet are up and off the floor.

“Steve!” You manage to squeak out, a bewildered noise of happiness. You waste no time in wrapping him back up in a hug, though it’s not as you have much choice with the way he swirls you around, all brazen and wild.

“Baby, baby, baby,” He’s muttering sweetly, barely stopping even when he finally places you back on the ground. His hand is on your face, sweeping along your jaw and he seems ecstatic, body buzzing like a live-wire, “You’re back.”

You nod, a bit overwhelmed by the love. You suddenly feel silly for even considering he wouldn’t be here.

“I’m back.” You affirm, a happy laugh tumbling out.

Steve eyes are a bit misty but you hardly get a moment to coo over him when they dart to your lips and he moves like a man possessed. His lips capture yours, passionate and strong, a kiss he’s been saving up all week. It smooths out every crease in your heart, makes your chest tingle until it feels utterly light inside and you’re positively glowing from love.

He’s breathing hard when he pulls back, staying close enough to press his forehead to yours. He’s flushed a bit in the cheeks and his grin is wide, betraying his pure glee.

“Hi.” He pants, tongue darting out to lick his lips momentarily. “Welcome back.”

You laugh, unable to help yourself, so delirious with happiness; so content with his love. “Might be worth going away if this is the welcoming committee I get.” You say, teasingly.

Steve’s hands on your waist tighten and without missing a beat, his feet begin to tug you both backwards in the direction of the bed. You stumble after him, completely enamored and warm in the face. Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“You thought that was the welcoming committee? Sweetheart...”

By the time you wander downstairs to nab some dinner, what feels like hours later, your mom fixes you with a particular look. The hickies on your neck are too high up to cover and you’re too happy to notice them, until the look you receive. She just smiles, rolls her eyes teasingly, and pushes the takeout container in your direction.

“Fix him a plate too, and tell your boyfriend I said hi.”

[munsonseds]

Dear smut writers,

You lot will be the death of me.

Sincerely, a horny ass bitch!

[hawkins-pd]

i want to get back into writing so, requests are OPEN!

below, is a list of characters i am happy to write for & a list of rules for requests!

as of right now, i only want to write for stranger things but i will expand this.

characters!

- joyce byers

- jim hopper

- enzo / dmitri

- nancy wheeler

- steve harrington

- robin buckley

- eddie munson

rules:

1. as of right now, i am only writing x reader fanfic & imagines. although i aim to keep it gender neutral, i will specify if it is x f!reader, m!reader, nb!reader, etc.

2. i will only write robin x f!reader as i think it is very important to ensure there isn’t any erasure of robins sexuality.

3. i will be writing mature themes, such as smut, gore and violence but the appropriate trigger warnings will be present where needed.

4. this is an 18+ blog. i am 20 years old, and i intend my work for mature audiences and i don’t feel comfortable with minors interacting with my blog.

[wroteclassicaly]

Just wanna suck on Steve’s neck and jerk his fat cock nice and slow, reducing him to a whimpering mess.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Steve?”

You can feel the vibrations of his jugular constricting, as he swallows himself into a head tilt, permitting you more access to the freckle splattered, sun kissed skin. Mhm. He’s forgotten to shave, leaving the faintest line of stubble around his neck, mouth, and jawline, and you’re bombarded with his apple and cedar-wood body wash, complete with matching cologne.

“Honey,” he begs, tugging on the fabric of your t-shirt, muscular arm thrown around your waist. “You know I need to. Gonna be so fucking good for you! I’ll — I will —“

He’s whimpering now, causing you to halt your motions, lips on his chin, hand squeezing his base, your knuckles tickled by wisps of the bush that surrounds him. You slide up a little, eyes on his blown pupils. “You will do what, Stevie?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, gone. Sanity obliterated to his outer limits lust. “I’ll eat your pussy until my jaw is sore, and I’ll fuck you until you can’t sit down, can’t walk without limping. Gonna give it to you so good for takin’ care of me. Shit, honey.”

It’s you who forgets to breathe, who finally manages (after seconds) to inhale sharply. His fingertips of the hand that’s resting at your side, they scratch below your breast, playing with the fabric of your cotton jersey. “M’ gonna cum so hard for you, then I’ll make you my good girl, okay?”

Who are you to argue??

[kisinthehouse]

Thinking about being in a secret relationship with him. Quickies in the closets at parties, music blasting outside the door. Fast fucks against a bathroom mirror, or quickly rushing to get dressed when there is a knock on your dorm door. Silent and secret kisses shared just between the two of you. Knowing how bad you want people to know that he’s yours but knowing he isn’t ready to share you to the world yet. Until you watch even more girls continue to throw themselves at him at a party. You, in your intoxicated state, walk over to him and push through the girl clinging to him and say a sharp “move” and lean up to kiss him deeply. You’ve decided to take matters into your own hands, and you were planning on showing him how much he was yours later.

[loveshotzz]

Hi! I’d love to see this prompt with Steve

36. “YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!”

Maybe like a friend (people send nudes to their friends before they send it to a guy, right?) who’s name starts with S and reader accidentally send it to Steve instead. He’s always had a thing for her and after his reaction she forgets all about whatever douche canoe she was going to send it to before.

I wanted to write this as soon as I got in in my inbox! I need a little Steve in my life right now.

18 PLUS NO MINORS

Warnings: Modern!Steve, Thin rimmed glasses Steve 🫠, Sexting, Nudes, Dirty Talk, Masturbation.

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 2.6K

The vibration in Steve’s pocket was so loud in the quiet meeting room that his ringer could have been on. Stumbling over his words in front of the projector his fingers fumble to shut it off from the outside of his slacks. Succeeding he gives a quick apology before he continues going over the numbers from last quarter.

“S-so anyway as I was say-“ buzz-buzz-buzz

Cheeks turning crimson he holds a finger up before digging his phone out of his pocket, not expecting to see your name he opens the message quickly in case it was some kind of emergency. It wasn’t like you to reach out to him during the day, or really ever. No matter how much he wished that was different.

When he opens it a picture of your tits was the last thing he was expecting, let alone a second picture of your ass. Pants immediately starting to tighten his eyes widen behind his thin framed glasses before he fumbles his phone out of his hands, the small device hitting the carpet with a soft thud. Landing screen side up he scrambles to retrieve it before anybody else could see what he was looking at almost losing his glasses in the process. Hitting the power button he shuts it off before pocketing it again. Doing his best to think of anything to get his mind off of how much better you look then all of his fantasies combined.

“Everything okay Harrington?”

Clearing his throat he runs a shaky hand through his unruly hair before pulling at the collar of his shirt. The perfect temperature in the room suddenly becoming sweltering, he can feel the beads of sweat drip down his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I’m good.” Shaking his head he refocuses on the PowerPoint and not the zipper of his slacks pressing into the half chub he was now sporting.

—

“I sent them to you like twenty minutes ago Stacy did you get them?” Looking at yourself in the full length mirror you try to decide if the dress you were wearing was too short for a first date.

“Well if you sent them, I never got them.” Your friend hummed on the other line, the sound of keyboard clicking in the background told you she wasn’t really paying attention.

Rolling your eyes you pull your phone from your ear to put her on speaker phone. Swiping up to your messages you read the name at the top of your screen five times before you really let the panic set in.

Steve.

Steve not Stacy.

“Oh my god, Jesus Christ.” Feeling like you might hyperventilate you drop your phone like it just seared off your skin.

“What? What’s going on? Did you hurt yourself again?” Stacy’s panicked voice breaks through the small speaker of your phone.

Ignoring her jab at your clumsiness you start to pace around your room. Hand on your hip and the other on your forehead you close your eyes trying to calm your breathing.

“No, much worse. I sent those pictures to STEVE Stacy, I sent them to fucking Harrington. A picture of my tits followed by a picture of my ass.” Stopping in the center of your room you let your hands drop to your sides staring up at the ceiling willing some way to either disappear or turn back time. You knew neither one would be possible.

Stacy is silent for a moment before her loud cackle echos through your room, speaker crackling, you huff loudly before dropping to the floor snatching your phone back.

“It’s not funny Stacy, Friday movie nights at Robin’s are going to be so awkward now.” Groaning loudly you flop yourself back on the soft carpet.

“Please, that boy’s been drooling over you for months. You probably just made his whole life.” Snickering you hear the sound of her door bell ring queuing her time to leave you wallowing in your embarrassment. “I gotta go, but it’s gonna be fine. I’m sure he’ll be too awkward to say anything anyway.”

Grumbling you pinch your eyes closed “I hope you’re right.”

Hanging up you let your phone drop to your chest thinking of all the different ways you could explain yourself to him. Part of your mortification was your own crush that had developed on him, not wanting to ruin the friend group you always just pushed it aside. The thought of going the honesty route crossed your mind, but the dinging notification on your phone brings all your anxiety roaring back to life.

Taking a deep breath you count to three before peaking at the screen. Steve’s name flashes and it makes your stomach drop, Stacy was clearly wrong.

Steve Harrington: Did you mean to send those to me?

Silently debating on whether you should expose yourself or not you decide to go the simpler route. Deny, deny, deny. Who cares if the pictures were sitting there in front of you clear as day. You make your own reality right?

You: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Pressing send more aggressively then you needed to, you place the screen face down on your chest. Eyes to the ceiling again you hope your denial is enough for him to drop it. Ding, ding, ding. Groaning loudly you lift your phone back up.

Steve Harrington: YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!

Yeah, he wasn’t going to drop it.

You: Look, it was an accident. Can we just forget it ever happened? I’m embarrassed enough as it is.

Sitting up you toss your phone on the bed before peeling off your dress throwing it to the already growing pile on the floor. Walking back over to the mirror you look at yourself, in nothing but your underwear as you try to see yourself through Steve’s eyes. Despite Stacy’s accusation of his crush, you always just assumed he was a natural flirt never thinking it was anything special with you.

The dinging of your phone brings you back to your bed Steve’s actual reaction waiting at your fingertips. Snatching it quickly you don’t bother to read the preview.

Steve Harrington: I kinda figured.

It was short with nothing to read behind it, maybe he wanted to just clear the air and you two could go back to normal. Phone vibrating in your hand there’s another message that changes everything.

Steve Harrington: That’s too bad.

Mind reeling at his response you throw your phone down like it’s on fire for the second time in five minutes.

“That’s too bad? That’s too bad?” Mumbling out loud you start pacing again, you weren’t prepared for this. Steve Harrington was actually shooting his shot.

He was probably sitting at that big desk he was so proud to get with one of those tight fitting button ups he always wore to work, thin rimmed glasses half way down his nose, his hair a hand tousled mess on top of his head. The image is enough to have your thighs press together. God Steve was pretty.

Biting your nails you stare at your phone from across the room. Did you really want to open Pandora’s box?

In just a few quick strides your phone is back in your hand, thumbs hovering over the keyboard you take a deep breath before finally replying.

You: What if I was lying? What if they were for you?

Nerves shoot through your body like electric currents while you wait for his response. Back to pacing in nothing but your lace underwear the ding of his reply is quicker then you anticipated.

Steve Harrington: Then I would tell you just how fucking mouth watering you are.

Slick building quickly at his words, there was something about him cussing that turned you on even more. Always being such a gentleman you never saw this side of Steve before. Grinning stupidly to yourself reading his text over and over you finally flop yourself back down on the bed.

You: You’re one to talk Harrington.

Hoping that the compliment is coy enough your thumb hesitates over the send button before you finally just hit it. When he takes longer the five seconds to respond your mind starts wandering to all the worse case scenarios but before you can go too far into your rabbit hole his name is flashing across your screen again.

Steve Harrington: You gave me a boner in front of all of my bosses. I hope you’re happy with yourself.

Snickering at the thought of Steve trying to conceal himself by shuffling around awkwardly, you decide that yeah, you are happy with yourself.

You: One of my proudest moments actually.

You try your best to imagine what Steve’s face must look like right now, is he biting his lip with flushed cheeks? Is he hard right now? How many times has he looked at your pictures? Lost in your daydreams it takes you a second to realize you weren’t getting a text you were getting a call.

Steve Harrington was calling you.

Staring at his name on your phone you chew the inside of your cheek, texting was one thing but talking about it? Out loud? That was a whole other thing. Despite not being sure if you were mentally ready for this your thumb slides across the answer button. Bringing it up to your ear you’re too nervous to talk first.

“H-hey.” He sounds just like how you feel.

“Hi Steve.” Your voice is sweeter then intended when it comes out but judging by the sharp intake of breath on the other side he liked it.

“I like how my name sounds coming out of your mouth.” Smooth like silk, the tone he uses only adds to your arousal, the wet patch on your underwear growing bigger.

“I say your name all the time.” Trying to hide how breathless you sound you start to trail your finger tips over the curves of your stomach.

“Not like that baby.” Its almost a whine when it leaves his mouth, and you can hear just how bad he wants you. “I wanna hear you say it again.”

“Yeah?” Laying it on thick, your voice picks up a few octaves.

“I want my name to be the only thing you remember how to say.”

His words have you rubbing your thighs together, your underwear sticking between your folds at the sound of his heavy breathing adding to your arousal. Cupping your breast with your free hand you tweak your nipple, the sensation making you arch your back.

“How are you gonna do that Steve?” drawing out his name you can hear the muttered ‘fuck’ fall from under his breath.

“First, I want to suck on those perfect nipples of yours. Twist them between my teeth.” Hearing him be so vulgar mixed with the work your own fingers were putting in on your sensitive nub had your eyes roll in the back of your head.

“A-and then what?” Voice cracking your hand starts making its way towards where you need it most.

“Shit- fuck. Are you- are you touching yourself right now?” Disbelief laced in his tone the groan he lets out when you give him a feeble ‘mmhmm’ goes straight to your core.

“Baby, tell me how wet you are.” He asks you the question right as your fingers meet your entrance, slick coating the tips of them instantly. Tracing along your slit with two fingers they settle on the small bundle of nerves nestled at the top, rubbing slow languid circles on your clit you suck your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from moaning too loud.

“I’m so wet for you Steve, I was soaked through my underwear before you even called.”

Exhaling loudly on the other end he lets out a breathy “Yeah?”

Moving your fingers from your sensitive bud you bring them down to your entrance dipping one in to stretch yourself out before working in the second one. The sudden fullness making you gasp.

“Tell me what else you want to do to me.” You moan “If you were here, what would you be doing to me.”

“Are you fucking yourself with your fingers pretty girl?” The new nicknames fall from his lips so easily like he’s called you them all his life.

“Mmhm, I’m imagining their yours.” There’s a pathetic sound thats bubbles from your throat when you curl them up hitting that spongy spot that makes your legs shake.

“Good girl.” He hums, closing your eyes you imagine him sitting in his big office palming himself through his dress slacks under his desk. The squelching sound coming from the way your fingers move in and out of you becoming so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it on the other line.

“I bet you taste so fucking good, you wanna know what I’d be doing if I was there baby?” The desperation in his voice is enough for you to add a third finger, back arching at the new stretch.

“Shit, Steve.” Thumb hitting your clit as you push further into yourself you can’t seem to form any coherent sentences anymore.

“I’d bury my face in that pretty little pussy like it was my last meal.” Talking through clenched teeth you wonder how hard Steve has to be, mouth watering at the thought you’d heard all the rumors of his size.

“Mmm fuck.” Your hips push off the bed to meet the movements of your fingers, your thumb adding more pressure to the bundle of nerves. “What else would you do to me. Please Steve I’m so close.”

It sounds like a growl that leaves his chest on the other side of the phone, his heavy breathing rattling in your ear.

“After I make you cum on my tongue, I’d make you cum on my dick. God, you got me so hard baby. I don’t know if that little cunt of yours would be able to handle all of this.” Hearing Steve Harrington say the word cunt was enough for you to start feeling the beginnings of your orgasm, feet hitting the very edge of the cliff preparing for free fall.

“I want it Steve, I want all of it. Stretch me out, make me fucking yours.” Cock drunk off a dick that wasn’t even there, he already had you down bad.

Curling your fingers with each thrust and your thumb rubbing rough circles over your bundle of nerves mixed Steve’s soft praises on the other line was enough for you to finally fall over the edge.

“Steve, Steve, Steve.” Chanting his name while you clench tightly around your fingers, you drop the phone from your ear the muscles in your body completely giving out as the after shocks finally start to give out.

Laying there you try to catch your breath before you remember Steve’s sitting on the other side of the phone that was thrown across your bed in a lust filled haze moments ago. Picking it up you stare at if for a second nerves kicking in again now that all the sexual tension had dissipated.

“H-hi.” Your voice comes out shy when you finally work yourself up to talk to him again.

Chuckling lightly on the other side the sound is enough to ease your anxiety.

“Hey gorgeous. Does this mean you’ll let me take you out to dinner tonight?” Cheeks warming at his question, the corners of your lips turn up.

The date you’d been stressing out about earlier completely forgotten, you were ready to clear your schedule for the boy who just made you see stars without even touching you.

“Pick me up at 8 Harrington.”

Part Two

[eddiernunson]

Halloween Party | Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader | 18+

Blurb from my long form Eddie x Fem!Reader story Trapped (go check it out if you're in the mood for a long read)

I am really proud of this part of the story so I thought it might deserve to stand by itself.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: It's a threesome with less experienced Eddie. No aftercare, daddy kink, faceriding, praise kink, double penetration, and hooking up under the influence. Eddie and Reader are in an established relationship for about a month at this point.

Halloween in 1985 is on a Friday, lucky fucking seniors. Steve Harrington has some words about this, seeing as his senior year’s Halloween was on a Thursday.

You, Eddie, Nancy, Robin, and the rest of the seniors at Hawkins High spent all week buzzing about the upcoming holiday. Sure, some think Halloween is invented by the candy companies to make more money, but no senior can deny the value of getting absolutely wasted at Steve Harrington’s house. When you’re a young child the very appeal of Halloween comes from the free candy and running amok the neighbourhoods, but to a horny teen in rural Hawkins, Indiana in 1985 the appeal is free alcohol and many rooms to hook up at the Harrington’s. The incentive to have a sickening costume and have genuine excitement for the holiday.

On Monday you and Eddie drive over to the local costume shop to grab your costumes, giggling as Eddie suggests you be a sexy witch, or even worse, a sexy pig. How the hell is that even sexy anyway?

When the two of you go to the front desk with the costumes landing with a soft plop, the front counter girl giving you two a one up as she witnesses the downright irony of the freak of Hawkins High being an angel for Halloween. “Please tell me you are going to Harrington’s party.” She says, entering the prices into her computer.

“Yep.” Eddie says, giving you a look.

“Thank God. I cannot wait to see the Freak dressed in all white as a fucking angel.” She giggles, excitedly placing your costumes in a plastic bag.

Eddie grabs your hand, holding you back from swinging at her for outright insulting your boyfriend.  “Not worth it. She means well.” He whispers, then giving her a fake smile and tugging you toward the door.

On Friday during lunch Eddie announces that for one time and one time only he is cancelling Hellfire for Halloween, claiming he doesn’t have any time to go to the party and lead Hellfire.

Of course, he was met with groans of how hypocritical he was and how lame it was to cancel Hellfire when Halloween fell perfectly on a Friday. He didn’t care, smirking at you across the cafeteria as he places his two pointer fingers on his head to mimic a devil. You place your hands together as if you were an angel in response, igniting laughter out of him.

This leads to you standing in front of your mirror tugging on the short yet leathery red dress you were wearing, your fingers rubbing against the bright red nail polish you wore. You self consciously rub your tummy, the dress much lower cut than you had expected. Your hair was teased and curled, sprayed into oblivion as you knew the devil horns was going to get all tangled up in your hair.

The plastic tail that came with the horns occasionally brushed up against your legs, something you weren’t used to. You wore red flats as to not hurt your feet through the night, your eyeshadow a bright red blended out to your brows to high heavens and your lipstick glossy and ruby red. This was as good as it was gonna get.

You went downstairs, your mom offering you a ride, so you didn’t drive, Eddie getting a ride from Wayne for the same reasons. “You look amazing!” Your mom shouts, causing you to shy look at your feet as she looks at you in a new way.

“Is Eddie going as a devil, too?” She asks as she grabs the keys. The two of you walk to her small car, a car she bought for herself when she was no longer driving you around anymore in a big van.

“No,” you say, keeping your knees awkwardly together as you get into the car. “He’s an angel.”

“Funny.” Your mom deadpans, rolling her eyes as she rolls out of the driveway.

You pull up to the party a half hour late, basically on time for Steve’s parties. You saw a few groups of people making their way up the driveway of Steve’s massive house, the sight of it feeling almost alien as you’re now used to the quiet of his parents out of town and you, Robin and Steve hanging out in his living room.

She drops you off, making a half a joke about staying safe, but you heard the truth behind it. “Love you!” you call, waddling over to the front door.

You hear the music as soon as you get out of your mom’s car, hearing the loud voice of Whitney Houston asking to dance with somebody. Reaching the wide-open front door, the heat of the house already radiating from the dancing teens hitting you as you walk in. You almost regretted wearing faux leather now. You scanned the room, seeing Steve and Robin in the corner. Steve was dressed as Peter Pan and Robin as Tinkerbelle. Her outfit wasn’t nearly as revealing as the blonde cartoon character, but it was clear from the green shirt and cargo pants with the fairy wings on her back and glitter on her face she was Tinkerbelle. “Hi Peter!” you say, shouting over the music.

“Oh, shit!” Steve says as he gives you a one-up at your red and daring get up. “You look.” He gives a look to Robin and manages to gain the breath you took away from him. “I think Eddie will cream his pants on the spot let’s just say that.”

 “I hope not I want to wait until we get to one of the rooms.” You joke and turn towards the counter where red solo cups are sitting pretty waiting for new consumers.

Steve leans back in exasperation, mad at his dick for betraying him. “Okay, well I’m gonna have a drink, did you want something?”

“Hell no,” you mutter, grabbing your own. “Last time you mixed me a vodka soda you nearly made me tipsy one drink in.”

“That was the goal!” He yells, laughing as the vodka glugs into his cup.

“So, where’s Wendy?” you ask, yet understanding the irony of their costumes and why Robin isn’t dressed as Wendy for the night.

“Oh, she’s my date!” Steve says, nodding his chin over towards a girl in brown hair dressed in a blue pajama dress that was only down to her thighs. “Brittany, you’ll meet her later! You’re gonna love her, I promise!”

“Can’t wait!” you say unenthusiastically, already having met many of Steve’s latest dates. You mix your own drink, knowing Steve will let you drink any of his alcohol.

You dance absentmindedly to Thriller, your eyes rolling as it plays at a Halloween party. By the time song #6 plays and your inhibitions are somewhat already gone, you’ve gone through two drinks and can feel some the affects of alcohol affecting your system.  

You have your hand with the drink up in the air, side stepping to the beat now in a circle with Steve, Robin, and Brittany, and suddenly you feel an arm snake around your midriff. “Hi, my sexy little devil,” you hear low in your left ear.

You have half a mind to tell the mysterious man to back off because you had an awesome boyfriend who would kick his ass, but your train of thought was stopped in its tracks when it was him. Eddie was there, two arms laid on your shoulders, and you take in Eddie dressed in all his angelic glory. He had his hair slicked back into a ponytail, a white button-down shirt and a white pair of paints with a halo head band resting on his gelled up hair and a small pair of angel wings on his back. To top it off, he had some glitter on his cheek bones, and the only thing you see that’s normal about your boyfriend is his rings. Thank God he’s still wearing the rings.

“Jesus, who are you and where is Eddie Munson?” you ask, your words partially slurred. “Is that glitter on your cheeks?”

Eddie laughs at your slurred speech, astounded you were already so intoxicated. “One of my bandmembers LARPS in his free time, he has way more glitter than you could imagine.”

Your face is awestruck to this information. “That’s very resourceful of you.”

Eddie laughs, walking over to the table to pour himself a drink. He looks up anxiously, wondering if any of his classmates were giving him dirty looks. So far, so good. He pours too much baileys into a coke, wanting to get on your level, so to speak. “Well, give me ten minutes, ok? I need to catch up.”

“Ten minutes? Good luck with that.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you are dancing in the living room, both of your cares gone. He was right. It only took ten minutes for him to get as drunk as you were, but by the time he got there, you were another drink and a half in, your drunk competitiveness shining through. He has his arm wrapped around you and if he was sober enough to care he would blanch at the pop songs that seem to be exclusively playing through the speakers, but he only knew the beat and his thigh placed between your legs as you two grinded.

You can’t tell how much time goes by as you’re lost in the beat with him, noting the sweat gathering on his forehead and the light pain burning into your thighs as you stay half bent for a good while. You were lost with his hands placed on your ass when you hear from someone, loud and clear. “Why is the freak here? When Harrington said the rules, I didn’t think he was being serious! God, I don’t want to see that shit!”

Eddie, in his drunken haze is pulled out of the intoxication that was your body against his and scans the room quickly to find Steve going through his tapes. “Harrington!” He calls, his arm leaving your waist as he stumbles across. “Harrington!”

By this time, Steve Harrington is also drunk and, in his haze, had to keep his eyes from roaming to you across the room desperately grinding on what he wished was thigh, but was Eddie’s. Shit was getting complicated, and he was not a big fan. “Uh yeah?”

“You said point, ya? Point and they’re gone?” Eddie clarifies before making a fool out of himself.

It takes a moment for Steve to comprehend what Eddie was going on about. “Uh, yeah. Point, and they’re banned.”

Eddie points dramatically across the room to where one of the jocks was chatting up a girl dressed as a bunny (predictable) and raises is eyebrows at Steve.

“Oh! Shit, Okay gotchya.” Steve walks as confidently as he can over to the jock, even in his own drunken and confused haze, and grabs the over towering jock by the shoulder. “Get out.”

“Wait, what?” He asks, turning to face Steve.

“Get. Out.” Steve says, pointing to the door. “You knew the rules. You even so much as look at Munson wrong, you’re out. Out!”

“You were serious about that shit? He and his little slut girlfriend were grinding all over the room, you expect me to not say anything about that? Bullshit!” He yells, making a big scene.

Eddie saw red as soon as he heard him call you a slut. Yeah, he calls you a slut all the time, but that was for his enjoyment alone. He runs across the room to him, and his hands are in fists ready to throw punches.

“Hey!” Steve yells, pushing him lightly off the bewildered jock. “Let me handle this.” He looks back to the jock and holds back his own want to pummel him into the dirt. Steve doesn’t have good track record with picking fights, but each time it was for a noble cause, and this sounds noble enough. “Get the fuck out of my house. No more hook up parties for Bongo.”

Steve has a few other friends of his that were his age help him yank the asshole outside, now much easier with the help.

“This is almost too much power.” Eddie mumbles as people are no longer shooting him anything remotely close to a dirty look. He glances to you, and your arms are now across your stomach, and you’re hunched over. “Hey.” He mutters, too drunk for this he decides as he tries to calm you down.

“Hi.” You whisper, the gloss of a tear forming in your eye. “Does everyone think I’m a slut? Is that why you call me one?”

Fuck. Eddie shushes you, pulling you into his arms. “No, no. He’s an asshole with asshole opinions. I call you one because I thought it would be sexy and fun. I only call you one when we’re both enjoying each other, yeah?”

“Oh. Okay. Can we get more drinks?” You ask, missing the buzz you lost from the adrenaline of watching your boyfriend defend your honour.

“Sure, baby.”

The two of you down two more drinks each, ending up on Steve’s couch as Steve is telling a story about something that happened in the pool, he worked at with a shithead kid. “I’m telling you! This kid lived to make trouble. I had to beg our manager to let me ban him, but every time Don would come for evidence the kid was a fucking, well Eddie I guess.”

You and Eddie giggle as well as the ones who were listening to him. Logically, there’s no possibility you should be able to hear him with the music still bursting through the speakers. Yet, there were about nine or ten of you gathered on the couch and you could hear every word. You were sat on Eddie’s lap, stroking his hair, however gelled and gross it may feel while you were sober. You didn’t care.

Steve wrapped up his story, talking quietly to Brittany and Robin. You barely had spoken to Brittany all night like Steve had promised, but from the “eeugh” looks he kept giving Robin about what she would say you guessed you wouldn’t be getting to know her anyways.

You looked at your boyfriend, and noticed his brown eyes were turned downward at your red (smeared) lips. “See something you like, handsome?” you ask, voice low and feeling his boner underneath your thighs.

“I see a lot of what I like.” He mutters, and you swear in your drunken haze he is slowly getting closer to you. You feel your eyes close, and Eddie’s lips are on yours, his tongue forcing it’s way into your mouth, feeling electric as you move to straddle him. He kisses you with fervour, his hands finding their way frantically into your wild and teased hair.

Your hips grinds itself to his, and you hear a wolf whistle coming from a couch cushion right next to you. You look over, your red lips even more smeared and Eddie has his own share of it on his.

“Get a room.” Robin states, still only lightly buzzed and sipping out of her red solo cup. “Seriously I don’t wanna see this. Go.”

You look at Eddie, his lipstick-covered lips barely even registering to you, you’re too fucking horny and drunk for that to even register. You grab his hand and tug him up the stairs. You knock on three doors, each one of them someone yells out it’s occupied. Finally, you get to the one at the end of the hall, and no one answers when you knock.

You hesitate to open, scared to see some live action porn but Eddie opens it for you, impatient, and wanting your devil costume on the floor. He shuts it behind you and thank God there’s a fucking bed in here. The lack of light is providing a vision impairment, but you didn’t really care, your lips latched onto his like the answer to world peace is in the back of his throat. You frantically start unbuttoning his shirt, your intoxicated body stumbling through each one. You’re on the last button when Eddie rips off his shirt, the button rolling across the hardwood floor. He reaches behind you, unzipping your dress and letting it slide down your waist.

You step out of your costume, the tail going with it. You reach up to take out your horns but Eddie places his hand on your wrist, stopping you. “Wear them. They’re hot.” Eddie mumbles, leaning in to kiss down your neck.

“Does that mean you wear your halo?” You ask, giggling as you look at the sparkly overpriced pipe cleaner.

“How am I supposed to eat you out with this on?” He asks, pushing you to guide you towards the four postered bed. He hanks the halo off, tossing it with the busted button.

You lie down on the bed, your legs spread showing the lacy black panties you wore and the strapless bra for the strappy dress. You shivered in anticipation to what he was going to do to you, your chest heaving.

“Roll onto your stomach, baby.” He mutters. When you silently listen to his command, he slaps your ass lightly, causing a moan to escape your mouth. “That’s my good girl.” He slips your panties down your ass, and you hear his belt buckle and fly being zipped down. “Daddy is gonna fuck you for a little bit then I will make you cum, okay baby?”

Eddie slips into you, bottoming out with no time to let you adjust. “Holy shit, baby, you are so wet.” He mutters, already starting to thrust into you slowly. “Are you all revved up, my little devil?”

You nod, but Eddie barely sees as your face is pushed into the pillow, headbanded devil horns slightly too rough against your scalp. “C’mon tell me with your words.”

You lift your head, forced to use your hand as support. “Was so horny. You look so fucking hot. I love your cock, daddy, feels so good.”

“Love your fucking pussy, baby. So pretty, so tight, so wet, just for daddy. Fucking love my little slut’s pussy.” In Eddie’s mind he cannot stop thinking how much your wet heat just feels so good around him. He needs a taste, wanted to be drunk on your greedy little cunt. Without warning you his cock leaves your pussy, and he gives you a big lap down your pussy lips. “Holy shit, baby. Your pussy tastes,” he pauses, giving another lick to your wet slick. “Fucking good. Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue contacting your pussy sends pleasure waves down your body, despite your intoxication. You lean back into the pillow, moaning loudly so no one in the next rooms can hear you. Even with the pillow muffling you, he can hear you loud and clear, digging into it like a man starved. He wraps his ring-clad fingers around your thighs, grabbing onto them harshly.

As Eddie gets into your pussy and takes in every drop he can possibly swallow and you hike your ass up more and moan louder into the pillow, either of you hear a heavy set of footsteps walking down the hall and closer and closer to the unlocked door.

If you did hear what was transpiring, you would hear Steve Harrington knocking on his bedroom door, wondering if any of the couples had made his way into the room. He heard faint moaning, but he was too drunk to understand it had come from the other side of his door. He opened the door, seeing no light on and no other reason to think anyone was in there and walked on in, only to stop dead in his tracks. The sight of you bent over the very pillows his head was leant on thinking about you with his cock in his hand last week caused his already slight hard on to get harder, the sight of Eddie eating you out doing nothing to help his situation. He knew he had a light attraction to Eddie, something he had put off for years, but the sight of the two of you so emersed in it not to even notice him had him gawking in his doorway.

Eddie places his thumb on your clit, slowly rotating it on your swollen bud and Steve sees as your thighs tense up immensely and you can barely support yourself on your knees. Eddie moves his head back to rub his two fingers on your folds, watching as they caused more slick to gush out of your folds. Eddie is so entranced by his fingers against your pussy, he suddenly notices the light from the hallway and a very specific shadow in the doorway.

He looks back over his shoulder to see Steve Harrington, slips his two fingers into you, your ass hiking up in response. “Oh shit!” You yell into the pillow are oblivious to any light cascaded onto the bed.

“Hi.” Eddie mutters, fucking his fingers into you and shooting a darkened glance to Steve, who was unashamedly watching his limber fingers moving. He looks down to where Steve is watching and smirks. “She’s pretty, ain’t she?” he asks, licking his lips as he switches his glance between the two of you.

“Y-yeah.” Steve mutters, his hand moving to palm himself in his green Peter Pan costume. “Very pretty.”

“You wanna taste?” Eddie asks, somewhere a sober version of him asking what the fuck he was doing, but his inhibitions already flown away and not coming back until tomorrow.

“U-uh, what?” He asks, making sure he heard Eddie right.

“Her pretty little pussy. You wanna taste?” Eddie says and leans in to give a long stripe of wet up your folds. 

“D-daddy feels so good.” You should in the pillow still unaware your pussy was on full display for the man who you’ve been accidentally dreaming about for a week.

“Holy shit.” Steve mumbles. He looks at Eddie and nods his head, and Eddie is suddenly put into action. He moves you easily so you’re on your back, and when you face the light and the man silhouette in front of you, your eyes take a moment to adjust to him.

Suddenly Steve’s presence is known by you, and you want to close your legs in embarrassment despite Eddie still having two of his fingers fucking into you. “Baby.” He says, crawling up your body. “Can Steve have a taste?”

“Wh-what?” you stutter, starting at Steve who was palming himself and staring openly at between your legs. Despite your protests, Eddie feels your pussy gush and become wetter at the sight of Steve, and he understands your body wants what is immoral to have while you are dating him.

“Can Steve taste this nice wet little pussy of yours?” He asks kissing your neck to butter you up. “I felt you get wetter at seeing him look at you. It’s okay if you want it.”

“Yes.” You whisper, afraid he would get mad at you and claim to set you up as a test.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie grabs him and reaches in to kiss Steve harshly on the lips, his tongue colliding with Steve’s as soon as they start kissing, Steve starting to lead him, noting the lack of experience and confidence in kissing someone besides you for the first time. You watch them make out, your fingers latching onto your clit and rubbing it as you Steve and Eddie get lost in each other, Eddie palming Steve as Steve moans loudly.

“C’mon, have a taste.” Eddie mutters, grabbing Steve’s hand and escorting him to sit in-between your legs.

Steve needs no more encouragement. You shiver in anticipation as you had heard the stories of Steve’s expert tongue for the last two years, both from Nancy and the girls he had slept with when he realized nothing else was there for him.

He leans in with more confidence than Eddie, his tongue longer and wider in size. He licks a long stripe up your pussy, licking onto your clit hard, causing a red heat to burst from it and down your thighs. You hike your legs up and around his head, the shaking of your thighs uncontrollable and the moans from your mouth loud and sinful.

Steve’s hand makes it way up your body, latching underneath your bra and grabbing your nipple. “You taste so goddamn good.” He sighs, his hot breath erotic on your puffy pussy lips. “Way better than I even imagined.”

You open your eyes to see Steve’s eyelashes fanned across his cheeks, fully immersed in the taste and feeling of you. You look up to face your boyfriend who was jerking himself off at the sight of you and Steve together. “You have no idea, Stevie. Wait until she squirts all over your fucking face. There’s nothing like it.”

“Can’t fucking wait.” Steve’s other thumb makes its way into your asshole, something Eddie has never even thought to do.

“Oh my god” you squeal, your eyes opening wide in response. “Stevie feels so fucking good.”

Eddie makes his way to one side of the bed, his cock right by your face. “Suck on my cock, princess.”

You reach out, jerking him off and tugging him towards your mouth. Eddie pushes his cock into your mouth, fucking your throat slowly as you can feel a slow heat start to creep from your stomach and through your legs. “Holy shit, that mouth of yours you suck so well.” Eddie mutters, keeping eye contact with Steve lapping up the juices coming out of you faster.

Your hole puckers around Steve’s thumb, it takes time to adjust. He feels your hole start to cling onto it, as if begging Steve’s thumb to creep further in. “Little cunt is very greedy.” Steve comments as he starts to fuck his tongue into your pussy hole.

The raw feeling of Eddie’s cock fucking now relentlessly into your mouth, Steve’s thumb in your ass and his tongue fucking into you became too much to bear. “Oh shit.” You whimper around Eddie’s cock. “I’m close”

“Is she allowed to cum, yet Stevie?” Eddie asks, placing his ring-clad fingers in your hair harshly against your scalp.

“Has she been good?” Steve asks, huffing as he can feel your stomach tighten up and your legs tense.

“Such a good fucking girl.” Eddie mutters, still fucking your throat. You can start to feel tears threaten to fall down your face from the feeling of his cock becoming too much in your mouth and your jaw start to hurt.

“Okay.” Steve mutters, sounding almost bored, the very tone almost hurting your feelings as you’re so fucking overwhelmed by everything they’re giving you. Steve sucks on your clit harshly, the familiar feeling of a heat spreading from your clit, through your stomach and floating into your head and the same little voice tells you to let go. You gush all over Steve’s face, moaning around Eddie’s cock and careful not to bite down on how good it feels.

Steve licks his mouth, not expecting you to squirt on him right from the get-go, but loving the feeling nonetheless. “Holy shit. Ed, you were right. Nothing like it. I’m gonna fuck her now.”

“Tell me how the slut’s pussy feels, Stevie.”

Steve asks Eddie to bring his cock out of your mouth and yanks your ass, so your back is now right on top of your stain you made on Steve’s bed. “Oh, I will.” Steve brings his pants down to his ankles, and you drool at the sight of his cock. It’s bigger than what you were accustomed to with Eddie, but the very image of it made you pray he would put it into your mouth.

Steve lines himself up to your pussy, the slick from your squirting making you wet enough for him to slide right in. Your jaw drops as he enters, Eddie jerking himself off from the sight of it. Steve leans down to finally kiss you, and you attempt to lead him like you’re used to but quickly get scolded into Steve leading you. He expertly uses his tongue on yours, bucking his hips harshly against yours all the while, not stopping to do either one like Eddie might do sometimes.

“Jesus,” you mutter, your mouth hanging open as you can’t concentrate on kissing him.

Steve stops his movements. “Kiss me. You can do it, baby. Keep kissing me.” You do what he says, moans coming from a guttural place in the back of this throat as his holds his hand around your neck.

Eddie comes up beside you after watching this, almost perfectly content in this threesome becoming a twosome with him watching from the corner. “Baby I’m gonna fuck your ass.” You nod at him, letting go of Steve’s kiss and reaching for the familiarity of Eddie’s. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

Steve gets up, knowing Eddie won’t be able to properly fuck you if he’s lying on top of you. You whine at the loss of Steve’s cock, but he barely gives you a chance to even revel in the feeling of it. He grabs you by the hand, yanks you off his bed without any effort. The blanket is torn off as well, now covered in your slick, but he just wanted the light sheets instead of his heavy comforter.

Steve lies down, getting you to crawl on top of him. “Put my cock in your pussy so Eddie can fuck that tight little asshole of yours, baby.” Steve commands, soft and barely showing that any of this is affecting him like you and Eddie both desperately are. You do as he asks, lying so your ass is perfectly in perfect aim for Eddie to slide into and sinking down onto his cock. “That’s a good girl. Now Ed slide into that little asshole of hers.”

“Does she need lube or anything?” Eddie asks, watching and jerking himself absentmindedly as he watches you get fucked from below. He gets to fuck you every day if he wants to, but he never gets to see you get fucked quite like this.

“Oh my god you really were a virgin.” Steve says, hearing your moans loud in his ear as he continues to fuck you. “No just spit on that little hole and ram into her, she’ll adjust fine.”

Eddie listens, licking your asshole for a few moments, spitting generously onto it. You can feel him lining his nice cock to your second hole, and you close your eyes, excited to be filled by both men who have been in your fantasies in recent years. Eddie barely gives you time to register the head of his cock in your hole when he continues in, and you feel so full.

Full is a word, but it barely describes it. You are so filled to the brim that your body shakes and convulses, Steve stopping his movements to let you adjust to the feeling. “How’s that feel, baby?” Steve asks, looking in awe at your pleasure-stricken face. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You lean onto Steve’s body, his nipples peaked as one of your pinkies tugs onto it with out realizing. “Baby is so cock drunk she can’t even speak.” Steve comments, looking over your shoulder to see Eddie.

“Oh, she’s not that dumbed out on cock is she, Stevie?” Eddie asks, waiting until Steve tells him to start fucking you.

Steve chuckles, leaning in to kiss your neck with little kitten licks in between each bite. “Let’s find out.”

Steve’s hips start moving and Eddie takes it as the go ahead. If you thought you felt full before, it was nothing compared to the two men’s cock moving in sync, your mouth opening involuntarily at the overwhelming, all intoxicating pleasure they were thrusting into you. Every part of your body, every inch of your skin was covered in fire. You couldn’t even tell if you were close again or not because your body has never felt this good. Steve notices the slack jaw of yours, and places who of his fingers inside your mouth. “Aw, poor baby.”

“How’s her pussy, Stevie?” Eddie’s gruff voice asks, and by the look of his mixed-up face and stuttering thrusts Steve can tell he’s already close.

“Fucking fantastic. You should see her face. All fucked out. Never seen such a pretty little face.” He compliments you, bringing his spare hand to frame your face, tangling his hands in your teased hair. “Fuck you looked so fucking hot tonight. Whoever told you to dress like a devil I wanna fucking kiss them”

“Already did, Stevie.” Eddie chuckles, doing his best to hold back from cumming but doing a terrible job on his face.

“Eddie, you need to cum, baby?” Steve asks, absentmindedly continuing to fuck you.

“Mmhm.” He mutters, his hands fierce on your hips and even you can tell he’s really holding back in your dazed out brain.

“Then cum.” Eddie stops resisting, and shoots his cum right into your ass, a heavier load than you have ever received from him. Steve stops thrusting too, kissing you as Eddie finishes shooting his gooey white substance into you. “How is our fucked out little baby?” Steve asks, looking at you with half lidded eyes.

“Mm. Good.” You mumble kissing Steve back with more energy and enthusiasm than you knew you had in you still.

Steve sits up, silently commanding Eddie to leave your ass as he takes his own cock out of your pussy. “I’m going to eat you out and Eddie is going to suck on my cock,” he looks at Eddie, “and swallow every drop. Understood?”

“Yes.” Eddie says, already somewhat hard from being ordered like this.

“Good boy.” Steve moves the three of you effortlessly so he’s lying down on the bed, you’re sitting on his face, and Eddie is sucking his cock. You sit on Steve so you’re facing your boyfriend, watching as he’s jerking Steve off and about to suck a cock for the first time. “Has Eddie ever sucked cock before?” Steve asks, noting the hesitation.

“No.” You answer for him, watching as the same wonder you had staring at Eddie’s cock is on Eddie’s face.

“Baby, be a good girl and teach him, will ya?” Steve asks, latching his tongue onto your pussy lips without a second’s hesitation.

“O-okay,” you whimper, the feeling of Steve’s expert tongue already sending you fast over the edge. You take a moment to reel the heat spreading from your sensitive pussy, not sent over the edge from the double penetration but almost too fucked out to understand if you were.

“Teach him.” Steve barks out, running out of patience.

“Sorry.” You whimper. You look to your boyfriend, who looks up at you for all the answers. You sucked his cock well after all. “Okay. Take-ah” you take a moment to whimper as Steve rewards you by sucking onto your clit. “Take his cock into your mouth but be careful of your teeth. I don’t bite, but I do use my teeth to suck on your cock harder.” You whimper, Steve now building a slow rhythm as a reward. “Fuck, Steve,”

Eddie tentatively starts sucking on Steve’s cock, his cheeks hollowing out, copying something he saw from you, and understanding what you meant by not using your teeth to bite but to suck. As soon as he has the feeling of Steve’s big cock in his mouth, he looks to you for more help.

“Bob your head up and down but roll it almost for a really good rhythm.” You teach him more, as the coil starts to form in the pit of your stomach from both the feeling of Steve eating you out unapologetically and watching Eddie work hard on pleasing Steve. Teaching Eddie led to Steve moaning, which lead to a vibration being sent up your pussy. Steve’s hips start to move on their own accord, and you watch as Eddie struggles to regain his rhythm. “Eddie, let him fuck your throat. As soon as your hips start moving, I let you do all the work.”

You leant down to grab onto Eddie’s ponytail, holding on to it to help Steve fuck his throat better. You didn’t expect to be so turned on by it, but Steve could feel the juices leaking out of you, faster as you get closer.

“Fuck, Stevie, I’m close.” You say one hand still on Eddie but your nails clawing into Steve’s chest.

“Wait til I cum, baby. I’m close too.” Steve says, and for the first time since he walked in he sounded like he was enjoying himself.

It was just less than a minute of Steve thrusting into Eddie’s mouth when he finally finishes, giving no warning as his mouth was still on you. “Cum, baby.” He mutters, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps with what felt like an actual snap in your tummy. The orgasm is all consuming, and flutters all around your extended limbs and crosses your eyes. Eddie swallows around Steves cock, and you cum into Steve’s mouth as you watch him, Eddie leaning up and showing you all Steve’s cum in his mouth. You lean in to kiss Eddie, lapping some of Steve’s cum into your mouth, wanting to share the taste of him. Steve bites your thigh to get off his face and you and Eddie look up at him to show him what you’ve been doing.

Steve leans up onto his elbows, laughing in disbelief as he sees the two of your cocked out faces visibly and audibly swallow his cum. “Fuck. That went better than I could’ve expected.” Steve laughs, wiping some sweat off his forehead.

You climb off him, grabbing Eddie’s hand to do the same. “I mean, I pictured it, but never expected it to come true.” You admit, looking around in the dark for your costume.

“I knew you did.” Steve mutters, glad of the confirmation of the lingering touches that’s been occurring more often and more recently. “I fucking knew it.”

“What now?” Eddie asks, and you and Steve look at each other, a mutual agreement.

There was nothing past this. No lingering need for Steve to be your boyfriend and you, his girlfriend. The need and desire the both of you had was purely physical, and now you had it out of your systems. “Honestly, I think we both agree it’s physical.” You admit, hoping Eddie wasn’t ready for a full throuple.

“Okay good. I’m a bit relieved, then.” Eddie admits, also shallow enough to admit for him it was only physical to Steve. “Now I know you’re willing to bat for the other team though.” Eddie laughs.

“Ditto.” Steve retorts, stretching in his bed. “Alright. I’m going back downstairs. I’ll see you both later.” Steve gets back into his costume, fixes his hair and feathered hat in the mirror and gives you both a gentle forehead kiss to trot on downstairs.

“Fuck.” Eddie mutters, looking for the light switch by feeling up the wall in the dark. “That was..”

“Intense.” You mutter, waddling into his arms, still naked.

“Any regrets?” you ask, the memories of your double penetration sharp in your mind and all the over stimulation that came with it.

“God, no. That was sick. Plus, not everyone gets to say within the first dozen times they’ve had sex one of them was a threesome.” Eddie chuckles, now scanning the room so the two of you can get dressed.

“Hate to break it to you, baby, but your hair is so messy.” You tell him, his baby hairs flying away from the jail of the gel on his head.

“Eh. They didn’t think we went up for snacks.” Eddie shrugs, passing you your dress and panties.

You mutter a thanks and the two of you get dressed back into your couple’s costume, and you wonder what he will think of next year, too. Every Halloween, you couldn’t wait until the one where you had your first kid, when Eddie is a middle-aged long-haired metal head and you’re passing out candies with all your teenagers out doing whatever.

It was a scary thought considering how new your relationship was, but it was intense and something you’ve never felt. The longing to be with someone. Forever.

The two of you went downstairs, your red lipstick now entirely gone, some of it on Eddie’s mouth, some on his cock. Some of it was even on Steve’s mouth. As you reached the couch, sitting the same way you were before but without hormones kicking in.

Robin sits next to you two and makes an astute observation as she just left a conversation with Steve for him to let Brittany down gently. “Hey, Eddie. Your lips look just like Steve’s. He has the same red on his-” Robin’s eyes widen and her mouth slaps across her face in astonishment.

“You didn’t!” she says, leaning in not to grab attention. As if it were possible, the party still going strong and the music bumping.

“Sorry Robin,” Eddie shrugs the back of his hand slowly rubbing against your lower back. “I don’t suck dick and tell.”

Robin’s eyes go wide at this, and she runs to go ask Steve the same thing for confirmation. The two of you don’t pay attention to their conversation, too wrapped up in a bubble of falling but not quite in love. You two kiss, the tension of wanting to fuck no longer there. Just, absolute care and affection. You swear you could hear Nancy fake gag as she sits next to you on the couch, but Eddie responds how he usually would.

A white painted middle finger high, not care in the world. 

[bettyfrommars]

Season of the Witch

by @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars

steddie x reader

Blair Witch Project au

Warnings: 18+ONLY, found footage horror, hurt/no comfort, fem!reader who is just a friend, no Vecna, angst, lost in the woods, mentions of witchcraft, paranormal happenings, things that go bump in the night, fear of being stalked, allusions to gore and MCD.  Dead dove do not eat. wc: 13k

If you are familiar with the film The Blair Witch Project, you know some of what to expect. This is a horror fic; it will be scary and unsettling at times, so please take caution if the genre makes you uncomfortable. 

Summary: Three friends find themselves in a small town in Maryland, the home of the Blair Witch, in order for Steve Harrington to film a documentary for his semester project.  In tow are his boyfriend, Eddie Munson, and you, a friend he invited along to be his trusty cameraperson.  Once you are too deep in the woods to find your way back, the myths surrounding the lore of the land begin to take shape, and you realize you might never make it out of there alive.

Much love to @allthingsjoeq for all of the blood, sweat, and tears that went into this, and also for calling it "a Marmite fic". We hope you enjoy this contribution to the October festivities! Much love.

Burkittsville Cemetery, Maryland

“Here we are,” Steve Harrington can’t contain the glimmer of wonder in his eyes, behind wire-rimmed spectacles, as he parks near the overgrown site of the cemetery.  

You look up from fiddling with the camera in the back seat as the tires crunch to a halt, already thinking of where the best spot to get a shot of Steve would be for the documentary he’s working on.  You aren’t as familiar with filming as you should be for being his main cameraperson, but you and Steve had become close friends very quickly, and he practically insisted you be a part of it. 

He was especially fascinated with the town you grew up in called Burkittsville in Maryland.  You knew about Steve’s obsession with the paranormal, and the legends that surrounded certain locations, so you told him about your hometown legend—the Blair Witch. You hadn’t been back since you were a kid, but you watched his face light up when you talked about the lore, and all of the possibilities for filming. 

Although Steve had his camera crew of one sorted, he would and could never travel without his partner in crime and in love, Eddie Munson. The metalhead stands now looking out over the cemetery with his black and white flannel over a Bark at the Moon Ozzy Osbourne concert tee, and his hair tied back in a bandana, being the supportive boyfriend. He clamps a hand on Steve’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. “You got this, big boy. Let’s rock ‘n roll.”

Tall grass yields underfoot as you all make your way around the space, bending down to try and read the crumbling grave markers.  

There is a staggering amount of tiny, decaying gravestones, each dedicated to a child who lost their life to unknown, yet presumably horrifying circumstances.

“Shit,” Steve mutters under his breath.  “There’s a lot of kids here.” You film his profile as he says it, shifting the focus back to get Eddie in the frame, and he shoots his tongue out, putting his forefinger and pinky up to make devil horns. 

Steve does a monologue for the camera.  He’s standing on the hill near one of the taller headstones, and the wind makes his hair unruly.  “Here we are in the town of Burkittsville, formerly Blair. As legend has it, around 1785, a Blair resident named Elly Kedward was accused of practicing witchcraft by several children. The children said that she had dragged them from their homes with the intention of drinking their blood. As you can see, there is an unusually large number of children buried on this hill.”

You film different headstones, making sure to capture the stone angel, and a few of the other statues, to splice into the film while Steve is talking for the final cut.  

Interviews with some of the long-time residents in town are next, and in the car ride down the hill, Eddie holds the camera and turns it on you in the back seat.  You cover your face at first, not wanting to be recorded, but he eases you out of it with some of his playful banter.  “Since we’re interviewing people who grew up here, we should start with you, right? What is your experience with the Blair Witch?”

You’d talked about the stories you’d heard so often with Steve, but being in the spotlight made you nervous, and it took a second to find your words.  “No personal experiences, really, but I’ve heard a lot of lore.  Ghost stories, mostly. Stuff to scare us kids so we’d go to bed early.” You shift in your seat and look out the window, but Eddie is waiting for more.  “I, um, well…”

“Leave her alone, Eddie,” Steve responds absently, flipping the blinker to turn into town. The song Season of the Witch by Donovan is on the radio and Steve’s mumbling the lyrics.

“No, it’s okay,” you flex a quick smile.  “If it helps, I mean, I was 8 years old when we left, I don’t know a lot other than what I’ve researched.”

“Your audience is waiting,” Eddie zooms the focus in way too much so that your eyes take up the whole frame.  

“Okay,” you start. “So I guess there were these two guys who were hunting once, up by the cabin Blair Witch is supposed to haunt, and they just disappeared off the face of the earth. Search parties combed the woods for weeks and couldn’t find a trace of them.”

“Maybe they realized they were in love and ran away together,” Eddie chuckles, pushing the heel of his hand into Steve’s shoulder.  

You smile down at your lap. “Could be.”

“One more thing,” Eddie looks at you over the top of the camera and then puts his eye back down to focus.  “Is there a chance we could all end up victims of the Blair Witch?”

You can’t tell if it’s a serious question, but it gives you chills.  Your eyes flick from the camera to the back of Steve’s head and his messy flop of hair.  

“I personally don’t believe in ghosts or witches,” you smile as you say it, and catch Steve’s quick glance at you in the rearview mirror.  “But don’t tell Steve.”

Eddie snorts and puts the camera in his lap but forgets to turn it off. 

“I’m really looking forward to proving you wrong,” Steve’s muffled voice says to you as Eddie rustles the camera down between his legs.  “There’s some spooky shit going on in those woods, and I’m going to get it on film.”

First night, The Motel 

The map of the forest is spread out across the thin, floral spread of the motel bed. Eddie and you stare down at it, identically flicking your eyes across the inked locations, each mirroring the same dazed look of cluelessness. 

“I think, if we start here and then make our way north we’ll get to here,” Steve then circles the center vigorously before saying, “by midday.” 

On the map it's easy to believe the forest only stretches a few miles and Steve’s plan so far seems simple enough, promising this hike to be quick. With the action plan sorted, a large pizza shared, and your survival packs spilling out with textbook necessities, it gives the three of you the rest of the evening to chill. This downtime allows you to mess about a bit and accidentally fill some of the tape space with personal footage. 

You’ve decided to sprawl out on one of the two double beds, propping yourself up on your elbow to film Steve and Eddie’s tiny little tickle fight that started over Steve being adamant that he wasn’t and would never be ticklish. Eddie knows just the right areas on his ribs to challenge with his deft fingers, making Steve squirm and beg for him to stop, while Eddie chuckles and pounces on top of him, making the cheap bed springs squeak.

“Hey, put the camera away,” Steve spots you, and then attempts to lunge off the bed and grab the camera. But you lift it out of his reach with a mischievous giggle.  

Eddie smiles along with you, his gaze falling with admiration on the way Steve’s cheeks turn a rosy pink at the exhilaration.  He throws a wink your way and pokes his tongue at Steve’s back, grabbing his ankle to keep him from leaving the bed. 

“Stevie, have you seen my lighter?” A few minutes later, you start filming again as Eddie is wandering the room in nothing but a pair of boxers and an unzipped hoodie.

“Are you going to smoke now?” Steve asks, checking the batteries in his flashlight.

“What’s wrong with now?”

“Well, you know,” Steve unsubtly tips his head in your direction, worried that you may not be comfortable.

“Oh, no I don’t mind”, you say, not wanting your inexperience to ruin the mood. It makes Eddie raise an eyebrow, your choice of words being music to his ears. 

“See Steve, if anything she’s probably curious,” he extends both hands to you as if you were a prize at the fair.

Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet and begins to dig through his pack's front pocket before retrieving a baggy of rolled joints. He pats around in his vest and produces a green plastic lighter with a triumphant, “a-ha!”

It’s been a while since you’d smoked weed, and you weren’t even sure you liked it, but Eddie’s contagious energy made you want to be a part of whatever he was doing.  He squints as he inhales, holds it, and then passes the joint to you between pinched fingers before releasing a generous plume of smoke. 

You took what you thought was a tiny drag, but it tickles the back of your throat and sends you into a coughing spasm, making you bat your chest with the palm of your hand after handing the joint back. 

“Can’t handle it sweetheart?” Eddie snickers, but then he wiggles his eyebrows at you and takes another drag for himself, passing you a bottle of water from the bedside table. The cap is off and some of it sloshes onto his hand.

“Oh, wait, I have something better,” Eddie says, jumping off the bed to snatch a fifth of whiskey out of his bag.  “Shots?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Steve adjusts his glasses and pulls back the comforter on his side of the bed to get cozy.  “Just one. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You shrug and nod, eyes bloodshot and watering, while Eddie puts the bottle to his lips and chugs a shot first before handing it to you.  You swallow a big gulp, and Eddie howls at the way your face screws up like you’d just sucked on a lemon.

“Here’s to the Blair Witch,” Steve holds the bottle up before he takes his drink.  “May she grace us with her presence tomorrow.”

Black Hills Forest, Day one, 9am

“Are we filming?” Eddie chimes in, practically vibrating with excitement.  

“The green light is on,” you mumble to yourself, frowning down at the screen on the camera that shows nothing but black.  

“Hey, Indiana Jones,” you call over to Steve who is checking the direction of the wind with a licked finger as he squints into the sun filtering through the dead leaves.  “What am I doing wrong?”

Steve adjusts the strap of his hiking pack and strolls over to you with a tight clench between his eyebrows.  “Give it here,” he sighs, taking it from you. “I just tested it this morning, I know it’s—”

He finally sees the problem and halts.  He makes somber eye contact with you, takes the cover off the lens and holds it up.

“Oh,” you bite the inside of your cheek, stifling a self-conscious laugh. 

“Steve Angelica Harrington,” Eddie grins, throwing his arm around Steve aggressively, almost knocking him over.  “Our hero.”

You lift the camera up to your eye and get both of them in the frame, leaning back to smile at the pair.  Steve shrugs away from Eddie’s attention as if he doesn’t like it, but then there is a moment when he turns and the two almost kiss.  Eddie gives a few exaggerated, puckered smooches and leans in. 

Steve realizes you’re filming and pushes his boyfriend off for real this time, running a hand through his hair to fix himself.  Restless as ever, Eddie comes around to take the camera from you, asks you where certain buttons are, and then points it in your direction.  You shrug him away playfully and shield your face from the nose down with the crook of your arm as if you are Dracula holding your cape.

Steve pops his knee out and tilts his head. “Would you two dorks stop messing around and take this witch hunt seriously? I want this documentary to be a success.”

“So remind me, King Steve,” Eddie turns the camera on his boyfriend, and he does not look amused.  “We’re trying to find the ghost of some child murdering witch from the 1700’s? Should I be trying to spot a gingerbread house too?”

Off camera, you snort and say, “idiot,” under your breath.  

“Eddie,” Steve keeps his profile to the camera, refusing to make eye contact. “Let’s get some footage first and then I’ll let you mess around with the camera.”  He doesn’t want a bunch of adolescent jibber jabber on film. .  

“What, I’m just trying to be helpful,” Eddie shrugs with puppy dog eyes, lowering the device.

He forgets to turn off video again, and as it angles at the ground. Audio catches a distinct sound, like a soft moan, from somewhere in the woods.

Steve holds his hand up for everyone to halt, freezing in place, and a small twig snaps under his foot.  

You open your mouth to speak, something about how it would be better to get a shot of Steve in the clearing, but you are swiftly shushed.

You motion to take the camera from Eddie, and then you point it at Steve, and he turns to you, right in the camera’s eye. His tone is dire:  “Can you hear that humming?” 

“I can’t—” Eddie blurts, but then Steve puts the palm of his hand tight over Eddie’s mouth, wrapping his fingers over his chin, knowing that it was impossible for him to stay quiet under pressure.

Your heart is racing as you concentrate, ears straining.  There is the dry shuffle of the breeze rustling the branches, but otherwise, the silence is eerie and vast. 

“Cut it out, Steve, it’s not funny,” you bristle, locking one arm protectively over your chest while the other attempts to hold the camera in place. Steve is darting his attention around the woods, trying to locate the origin of the sound.

Eddie steps back, moving his mouth away from Steve’s muzzle. “It’s just the wind, baby, it’s making you paranoid,” he offers, noticing the way Steve’s face is drained of its color. Bending down to retrieve the map that fell when Steve got manhandled, one of Eddie’s legs flew out behind him dramatically.  A part of you wonders if Eddie and the map are a good combination, however you keep your thoughts to yourself. 

You’re almost positive you heard a voice in the woods as well, but you decide to keep that close to your chest.

The lingering tension finally subsides, and Eddie reaches back for Steve’s hand to keep him moving in the same direction; to coax him out of his racing thoughts.  Not wanting to waste battery life, you turn the camera off and stumble behind them, actively fighting off the urge to glance over your shoulder at whatever might be following in your wake. 

The next few hours consist of hiking through unused paths and trampling muddy footprints, waiting for Steve to find his perfect backdrop to open his documentary. With the car far behind you and your full 360 view being nothing but trees, Steve finally breaks from his determined stroll.  

“Can we do this now?” You lightly prod. For the last half hour, Steve has been trying to find the right spot to stand, and you felt like his perfectionism will be the death of you.  

Steve has that look, the professional one, when he means business. However, for Steve to enter his little documentary presenter zone he wants to stand alone, the trees being his only sidekick. 

“You can go over there now,” Steve gives Eddie a playful nudge. 

His boyfriend has been on his heels this entire time, but now the metalhead jogs over to grab the camera off of you to keep himself busy, while Steve concentrates, pushing his glasses up on his nose, finding his performance space before he begins.

“The town of Blair has been cursed since the 1700’s,” he starts.

Eddie and you share an encouraging nod, adding a dash of support for Steve to continue.  

“They all warn of the Blair witch, the one known to lure children to her home and sacrifice their souls and use their blood as an offering.” Steve starts to find his rhythm, naturally taking small steps backwards, like a guide, forcing the camera to follow.

“Elly Kedward was eventually found and blamed for the towns disappearances and without trial was banished into these woods in the depth of winter to freeze and perish a worser fate than her victims.” 

There’s a climatic wind gust that passes through the trees, almost like the ghost of a victim's warning, sent to bring the hairs on your arms to rise. It makes Eddie grin, Steve’s eyes widen with interest, and you try to contain a violent shiver; the theatrics of nature perfecting the shot. 

Steve pauses to take in his surroundings for dramatic effect before continuing.

“Her twisted end didn’t sit right, the town of Blair began to notice odd occurrences, noises and symbols from the forest. Locals believe she left a curse. They say she is still roaming in these woods to this day, seaking her revenge and enticing lost souls into her portal to show the devil her true power.” 

Steve takes a breath, pausing before opening his mouth to speak again, but Eddie’s attention span has other ideas. 

“Oh wait,  Steve can you do that again, I didn’t press record,” Eddie says as cool as he can muster, biting the inside of his cheek. 

Steve shoves his hand roughly through his hair and holds it there, tempted to rip the hair from his scalp. “For fuck sake Munson.” 

Quickly breaking into a wild grin Eddie says a quick, “joking babe,” fully accepting the harsh shove Steve jabs to his shoulder, but then Eddie decides to up the antics.  He falls to the ground dramatically and starts to wiggle like a worm.

“Help, Help, it’s got me, the witch,” faking a struggle, to which Steve tuts, lodging a twig in his direction and adding a casual, “get over yourself, Munson.”  You dive down to take the camera from Eddie’s extended arms as he rolls to his side, and bite back a grin before giving Steve the signal that he’s on again.

Steve advises Eddie to roam around while he delivers the next part of the story. 

“This legend sits on the border of fiction and fact. It’s chilling, yes, but the stories and facts just don’t add up. A truth needs to be found and today, the legend of the witch will either remain its legendary hoax or a fatal truth may be… Wait, cut.”

“What, why?” You frown, enjoying Steve’s witch hunter mode, but clearly his self doubt has arrived.

“Was it a bit much? I felt like I was entering Eddie’s DND campaign.”

“Hey,” Eddie protests, opening his mouth and eyes wide at the camera and prompting you to snort a laugh at his theatrics. 

The day wages on, the forest becoming your only view for miles as Steve drags his feet, unsatisfied at his findings so far. The consistent checking of his watch is a hint alone that it’s time to set up camp soon.  

By nightfall, the strange noises from earlier were all but forgotten, and you sit with a full belly in front of the crackling fire opposite Eddie.  You film him as he tells one of his wild stories, complete with active hand gestures and cartoonish sounds.  Eddie gets a detail wrong in the tale he is retelling, and so Steve corrects him with a bit of a bored look on his face, as if he’s heard the story told wrong a million times.  You focus the zoom in on Steve’s face as he turns to rest his chin on his shoulder and regard his partner.  There was a deep fondness there in his eyes, even though it is masked for the moment with irritability.  

Eddie decides to get in close, his mouth inches from Steve’s. You watch as he murmurs something that makes Steve crack a smile, and then the two share a kiss, noses rubbing, and you feel like you were intruding on a private moment.  You then decided it was time to give the juice in the camera a rest for the night while you all slept.  Much like the camera you follow in its footsteps and shut off, exaggerating a yawn to catch the pair’s attention. 

Your little hint is not lost on Steve, and it prompts him to pass you a flashlight so you can avoid tripping over the tent's zip on your way to bed. 

Nestled undercover in your downy sleeping bag, you drift in and out of sleep, only faintly hearing the footsteps of the boys before they go into their tent. In the middle of the night, you swear you hear voices, like a distant conversation, but you assume it must be the boys. There’s an ominous but faint cackling that follows it, but by then, you’re already too deep to notice. 

And then suddenly, there’s nothing, just stillness and the dark of the woodland air. 

Day Two, No sight of the road. 

The next day brings more of the same.  Hopeful banter in the morning, which then easily leads into some playful teasing throughout the afternoon. The on and off tones of professionalism to mockery becomes apparent. At one point while filming, Steve in one of his monologues, tense and suspenseful, until the scene was hijacked by Eddie flying through the air to tackle him.  

The light mood progressively gets shadowed, though, as the day wears on and there seems to be little to no chance of getting back to the car before dark.  Steve halts to check the map several times, flustered and angry with himself, while Eddie has a smoke break and you film around, even catching sight of a doll made of sticks hanging from a tree.  

“Steve?” You hum his name over your shoulder, wanting him to see what you see.  

He ignores you at first, biting the side of his thumbnail, and spinning on his heel as he stares down at the compass. When he finally lifts his head, he frowns, confused, but then the doll made of sticks comes into focus and his eyes narrow behind the smudged lenses of his glasses.

“What the hell is that?” Eddie is already on his way over.  He decides to smoke the other joint in his pack instead of one of his Camels, and it is doing wonders for his anxiety.  

Eddie reaches up to touch the doll, but Steve stops him. “Wait!” He notices that his voice is a bit harsh, so he starts again in a calmer tone.  “Listen, we don’t know what it is or who put it there.  I think we should respect the woods and leave it be.”

“Respect the woods?” Eddie barks a laugh, continuing to touch the legs of the doll and turn it around to see how it was made and you watched through the camera lens. 

“I bet some kid made it when their family was out here camping,” Eddie mused, exhaling smoke. “It’s creepy, I like it.”

Steve decides to interfere with his high boyfriends fascination, batting his hand away and in the process accidentally knocking the wooden doll to the floor.

 “Hey, Steve you’ve killed him!” Eddie taunts; mouth agape, eyes accusatory.

Steve really didn’t want to do that and you sense the growing paranoia that he’s experiencing from the way he’s frozen, staring at the little figure now laying twisted on the floor. Eddie pouts and goes to retrieve it once again. 

“Eddie, leave it.” Steve can’t hide his increasing stress, his words strained in between his clenched teeth. He grabs onto Eddie’s pack using it to encourage Eddie to walk in the other direction.

Steve prays this is the right way. He sends you a weak smile, and you know him well enough to deduce that he is feeling embarrassed that he doesn’t have you out of the woods yet.  

 As the sunlight dwindles, a bitter sense of reality begins to creep up on you. The branches above lose their subtle shadows and the once benign tree clusters begin to morph into something otherworldly. 

When it is finally time to make camp again, it is all any of you could do not to think about the stories you’d recorded from the townspeople the other day.  In particular the one about the killer who would take kids down into his basement two at a time, and make one wait in the corner while he killed one, and then would kill the one in the corner.  He didn’t like their eyes on him, apparently, that’s why he made them stare at the wall.

The darkness is crowding in, giving tiny nudges to everyone's paranoia that you are not alone in that forest.  There was a presence that tickled in barely audible whispers as the night claimed its position and every howl of the wind was a possible threat.  

Not a lot of filming took place during the down time by the fire. It was as if the courage to speak the stories had vanished and the myths began to seep into their reality. Less words exchanged and a few uncertain glances shared with Steve, but Eddie remained stoic and chilled, maintaining his energy. 

The plan of action is the last conversation you share, Steve taking control and promising that you’ll all be back in town by tomorrow afternoon. 

The sound of the boys getting situated in their tent was comforting, and you giggled when Eddie farted and tried to blame it on a passing wildebeest.  But, things got quiet quickly—too quiet—and soon you could hear the faint hiss of Steve’s snore and you realized that having your own tent was not all it was cracked up to be.

An owl hooted, but along with its natural call there was something else out there making sounds.  Was that the humming Steve had mentioned the day before?  Straining to listen, the noise was followed by an unmistakable cackle that made you grab the flashlight and a pillow and scurry out of  your tent like it was on fire.  

“Um-guys,” you were pulling open the flap to their tent before either of them could answer. “Is there any possibility i could squeeze in your tent tonight, i was a-a bit cold on my own.” 

Eddie sits up, groggily, from where he had his head on Steve’s chest, as if he’d fallen asleep the second he closed his eyes, and scoots away to make room for you in the middle.

Feeling safer nestled between your two friends, you are finally able to let yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep that offers no reprieve from the shadows in your mind.

Later that night, scattered and confused, another bizarre noise caught your attention, jarring you awake. 

A blanket of dark coats the inside of the tent, but after a few fuzzy blinks you easily make out that  Steve is sitting up with the flap of the tent open. He’s crouched over, the faint shake of his hands holding the camera a dead giveaway to his unease.

Sensing that you are awake, he tilts his head to the side to acknowledge you, and then signals for you to listen. 

“Did you hear that?” You whisper, not wanting to wake Eddie who is offering soft snores next to you.  

Steve puts a finger to his lips, and then turns back around with the camera pointed out into the night.

Somehow he manages to convince himself that the noise is from a deer or squirrel. Due to your delirious state, this information settles your tired worry and allows you to snuggle down, eager for the morning light. 

Day Three, Walking in Circles

With no idea how long Steve remained awake last night, there’s a part of you that feels he’s hiding something to protect you. The next morning his raw, uplifting nature dwindled, his inner doubts coming to the surface to pinch the skin between his eyebrows. 

“I’m sorry I dragged you all out here,” Steve announces with a heavy sigh, staring down at the remnants from the fire. Eddie angles the camera up at him while you zip a few things into your knapsack. “We’ll be having lunch back in town in a few hours, but let’s keep adding to the footage as we go.”

Steve shows you on the map where you were all headed, tapping his finger in the spot where you’d parked the car.  “Two hours, tops,” he promises.  

Eddie gets to his feet and adjusts the focus so that Steve goes from blurry to clear to blurry again. “Battery life on this thing is low and I can’t find the portable charger.”

Steve turned on him, jaw muscles tensing, ready to let an angry word slip.

“The charger is right here,” you corrected, lifting it out of the bag it was in to show Steve and calm his nerves. Once Steve steps away to check the compass again, Eddie makes a face at you, tongue darting out from the side of his mouth, letting you know that he knew it was there, he just wanted to give Steve a hard time.  

“I have a question for you, sir,” Eddie rushes up behind Steve and taps his shoulder, making him turn away from the lens, bringing a hand up to block his face. “How do you feel about this Blair Witch hunt so far?”

Steve smooths the sides of his hair back and squares his shoulders, determined to look unbothered.  “I feel good,” he lied. “I feel like I know exactly where we are and we just need to head east for another couple miles.  Everything's going as planned, we’re just a little behind schedule, that’s all.”

You open the canteen around your neck and gulp down a few swigs of water, musing that there wasn’t much left, and you needed to find a fresh stream somewhere soon, just in case.

But, it was only a passing worry, because Steve’s confidence that you’d be back at the car in a few hours gave you an unhealthy helping of blind hope. 

When you finally find the water line, there is a fallen tree across the creek, and it happens to be the only way across.  You have the worst balance, and being suspended over moving water makes you nervous in a way that has your hands trembling.  Eddie carries the camera for you, strapping around his neck as he makes his way across like an acrobat, and then Steve follows behind you, whispering words of encouragement.  

Hours later, it’s high noon when Steve makes you all stop for a rest to take your packs off so that he can check the map again.  You happen to be filming him as a flex of panic flashes across his face.  

“Why does this spot feel so familiar?” He asks it under his breath, but the audio catches it.  

It was the same spot you’d started from earlier in the day; same stump, same bundle of dead branches next to a large boulder. Steve turns on his heel and you can see in his face the way his heart stops when he sees the impressions from the previous night’s tent pegs.

“How is this possible?” He whispers. “We’ve been going straight all day, following the compass.”

“Give me that,” Eddie storms by, yanking the map from Steve to sit down on the big stump to look at it while he has a smoke.  “This shit is Greek to me,” he admits, hollowing out his cheeks to take in all of the nicotine his lungs would allow. “Are you telling me we’ve been going in circles?”

You squat next to Eddie, filming him while he glowers at the lines on the paper, hair tied back in a messy ponytail.  This was the crankiest you’d ever seen him, and you’d known him for at least a year at that point. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that there were only 3 cigarettes left, and his pack a day habit was at risk of being tested without nicotine patches or comfort.  

He realizes you are recording and flinches away, blowing smoke out his nostrils.  “Put that thing away please.  I’m not in the mood.”

Steve split the last half of a squished peanut butter sandwich into 3 parts and passed one to each of you, but Eddie refuses his.  You stare up at Steve, waiting for his word that you should stop, but he shakes his head.  “She’s doing exactly what I told her to do, Eddie. We’re filming a documentary.”

“Oh, we’re filming a documentary about being lost now? Is that what this is? Because we are, we’re fucking lost.”

 Eddie grumbles, exhaling an agitated breath.

“We’re not.” Steve’s voice is gruff as he pushes the food into his cheek with his tongue.  “I know exactly where we are.  The car is right over that way, through the trees, I’m positive.”

“Yeah, well, you said that yesterday morning and last night and four fucking hours ago,” Eddie shot to his feet with a huff, keeping the butt of his smoke clenched between his lips to button up the front of his black and red flannel. 

“Shouldn’t you know where we are?” Eddie’s penetrating gaze falls on you, and for some reason, it makes you nervous.  “I know you said you were just a kid, but you grew up here right? So, you must have some idea?”

You glance nervously over at Steve, as if to ask for support, and then focus the camera back on Eddie as you stammer.  “I–I don’t ever remember coming out here. Once maybe, but—”

“Really Eddie?” Steve turns to his boyfriend. “You expect her to have a Magellan sense of direction in these woods because she lived nearby when she was a child? You get lost in Hawkins and you’ve lived there your whole life.”

Eddie mumbles something as he straps the last part of his pack on and starts walking, without a word, heading in the direction Steve suggested, kicking at the dirt as he goes.  

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve mutters to you as he offers his hand and helps you stand. “I should’ve had you home safe by now.”

“It’s okay, I trust you. I promise I really don’t know these woods that well,” your voice is small.  Your eyes are softly pleading when they find his, as if to beg for absolute reassurances.

But, Steve has nothing verbal to give.  His throat is dry, he hates fighting with Eddie, and his pride was taking quite a catastrophic blow—on film, no less. He squeezes your arm, and continues at a fast trot to catch up with his salty partner, pulling you along with him.  

A few hours later, the sky opened up and it started to rain, and as you ducked to follow the boys into the clearing to reluctantly set up camp, you trip over a pile of rocks and almost drop the camera.

“What the hell is this?” You mused aloud, adjusting the focus, establishing that it was, indeed, just a pile of rocks, but there was something…odd about them.  They’d been stacked up by hand in the shape of a mound. 

Steve and Eddie were up ahead, standing in close proximity, having a conversation in tense whispers while Eddie found the driest patch of ground under the canopy of trees to shake the tent out.  It was only drizzling now, and he was eager to set up some type of shelter in case the downpour started again.

Steve moves the hood of his yellow rain slicker back to check where you were, and then comes over to see what you’d found.  

“There’s a couple of them,” you point out, stepping back so he could view the others, “What was it that one woman in town said about stacks of rocks? Something to do with a signal, or warning maybe.” 

Turning, you see Steve frantically dig through his bag, only letting out a satisfied hum when he retrieves his notebook. Its spiral-bound pages hold all of the key points from interviews of people back in town. You can tell he’s proud of you for having the intuition to know that these stacks might be important.  

“Remember that woman we spoke to at the trailer park?” Steve asks, biting his lip in thought.

“The weird one? Mary?” You wonder aloud. 

Steve snaps his fingers in excitement, flicking to the right page in his notes. 

“Yes! Crazy Mary.  I wasn’t paying much attention to her because I thought she was insane, but I’m sure she mentioned something to do with rock piles?”

“What’s your notes say?” You lean in to see what the camera can catch on the paper.

“Not a lot. I’ve just written ‘Bible Story about rocks’”.

You try your hardest to remember, whispering to yourself and attempting to remember what the eccentric woman had said. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you begin. “But, didn't she say something like, they symbolize a promise, like if you promise not to cross the rocks nothing can harm you and vice versa from the one who put them there. Ancient truce type agreement?”

“I mean it sounds right, but why are there three?”

“I'm not sure?”

Steve waves Eddie over, but he isn’t interested.  He’d gone into full-on “if I don’t keep busy I’m going to lose my shit” mode, dropping to his knees in the mud to hammer in the tent pegs.

Steve sighs, feeling like Eddie probably needs a bit of attention and comfort before his mood swing completely erupts. In his process of turning away from the rocks his booted foot catches a pebble, sending the pile toppling over, but he doesn’t think to give it any attention.

Panicking in his wake, you shield the camera from the rain and re-pile the pebbles back in a formation that you hope they resembled. 

You eat the last of the canned vienna sausages by the fire and no one is in the mood for jokes, but Steve does reassure everyone, especially with an arm around his boyfriend’s stiff shoulders, that you all would be out of the forest by the next afternoon.  You film it, catching the way Eddie pulls away at first but then leans in to rest his head on top of Steve’s and they both stare into the fire with glossy eyes.  

You didn’t even bother setting your tent up that evening, and you snuggle on the outside of the boys this time, curling up next to Steve while he spoons Eddie.  

For the first hour or two, everything is peaceful, and the three of you sink into shallow sleep, only to be jared awake by Steve stumbling out of his sleeping bag, stepping on both of his companions in the process.  

“Holy fuck, did you hear that?” He hisses, moving to unzip the tent.  “I need to get out there, hand me the camera.”

“Steve!” You bark a harsh whisper.

“Goddamn it,” Eddie starts putting his boots on, half asleep, not wanting Steve to go out alone. “It’s just a bunch of fucking deer or something, baby, will you just—”

But then, you all hear it.

As loud and as clear as if there were people standing right outside your tent: a cackle of laughter, heavy steps crunching in the leaves, snapping twigs, echoing from the forest floor.  And then there is the distinct cry of a little kid—maybe two, three different little kids. It all echoed back into the woods as if it’s in your ears and far away all at once. 

With the tent flap half open and one foot out, Steve shoots a look back at the two of you, nostrils flaring as he stills for more noise.  “Did you hear those kids?” He huffs, snatching the camera and ducking down to bolt out of the tent. 

“Baby, there are no kids in these woods!” Eddie lunges after him, catching Steve’s calf to pull him back in.  He stumbles back under cover into a crouch, only to “shush” everyone again, certain that he heard something else.

It’s then that the tent begins to shake and jostle, and the cackling continues, but it’s right on top of you now, circling the enclosure.

“Holy shit, holy fuck,” Eddie wails, pushing Steve out of the tent this time, and reaching back for your hand as he exits.

“Go go go!” You demand, encouraging them both to run as far and fast as they could from the campsite. 

Everyone is stumbling and cursing, running in the dark, with the light of the camera Steve’s holding being the only illumination.  He trips over something with a curse, and Eddie helps him up while you take the camera, not caring where the lens points as you run along with the boys, as fast as your feet can carry you.  

Not a sound follows you, not a single footstep or snicker.  Eventually, you all collapse breathless in a huddle, hunkering down near a tree.

Eddie looks into the camera you hold. “Turn that light off,” he’s panting, pupils pinned. “Shut it all off, stay the fuck down.”

“Keep the audio on,” Steve whispers, to which he gets a shove in the shoulder from Eddie.

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to film your movie, dude,” Eddie hushes curtly.

“Shutup!” You scold them both, turning the camera off.

You all sit frozen in place, holding onto each other in a football huddle for—god knows how long? Two hours maybe.  Daylight finally begins to break, prompting Steve to motion you to get the camera rolling again. 

Day Four, No Way Home

The three of you stay close, too frightened to be even a meter apart as you make your way back in the direction of camp. You’re cold, wet and done; so over this witch hunt and ready to put it behind you. 

After a while of weary steps and nervous glances around, Eddie’s tongue clicks, breaking the silence. “There are some hillbillies in these woods trying to fuck with us, and I don’t want to fuck with that.”

Steve looks up at him.  “But what if it’s something…not human?”

“Well, I don’t want to fuck with that either,” Eddie runs both hands through his hair, intertwining his fingers on top of his head as he walks.

You decide to chime in. “Something definitely does not want us here.”

“No kidding, Sherlock.” Eddie blows a raspberry and turns his back on the two of you.

“Something?” Steve cocks his head at you. “But I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts or witches?”

“I don’t,” you swallow hard, averting your eyes.  “But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“Okay, we’re going,” Steve answers, meeting Eddie’s hard stare over your shoulder with defiance.  “We got what we came for, let’s get our shit and keep heading north.”

“Are you sure north is the direction we need to go in?” You ask, cringing through the beginning stages of a headache.  “Because we were headed north all day yesterday and it didn’t get us anywhere.”

When the campsite finally comes into view again, everyone stops short, each jaw going slack in disbelief.

“uhhh, what the fuck is this?” Eddie mumbles, stomping over to look at the way the tent has been squashed, and how everyone’s things have been thrown around.  Whoever or whatever had been taunting you all a few hours ago had made a mess of all of your things; there was clothing and gear tossed in every direction.

You ran across the campsite, eyes searching. “Where is my pack?” The question caught in your throat, as if you might cry.  

“Your pack is right there,” Eddie points.  “More importantly, Where is my pack?”

Everyone starts collecting what they can find of their personal items while Eddie lifts up his open canteen from the ground.  “They dumped all the fucking water out.”

He realizes that the canteen is also coated in something and he drops it with a curse. “Is that fucking slime? It is, there is some kind of slime all over it,” he raises his hand up to look at the viscous liquid and then rubs it off on his pant leg as best as he could.

“Im not fucking about anymore Steve, okay I believe it all, you happy? This shit, whatever it is, whoever it is, doesn’t want us here.”

Eddie’s right, this is a clear warning, an intentional attack, and for once Steve’s not looking excited at the product of evidence before you all. Steve turns towards you, your kneeling figure scooping up your pack—it had been thrown to the other side of the campsite, but nothing seemed to be missing.

Before he could question it, the whining sound of Eddie pricks his ears. Swiftly turning to face whatever tantrum the curly haired boy is throwing now, Steve is faced with Eddie frantically picking up scattered pieces of clothing. 

“Woah, babe, is that all your clothes?” Steve asks in a rush, moving closer.

“Yep”. Eddie doesn’t even want to converse. 

“Just yours though Eddie? No one else's?”

“This is bullshit!” Eddie throws the canteen down and it bounces further away.

Steve moves to reach out and touch Eddie’s arm, but his hand gets slapped away.  “Leave me alone, dude. I need a second.”

You turn the camera off while everyone collects their things and tries to catch their breath.  You were all officially out of food now, with the exception of some peanuts, and a detour needed to be made to get water from the creek.  Eddie refused to use his after it was slimed, but thankfully Steve had an extra one.

When the camera comes back on, it is a couple hours later, and Steve is holding it this time to film Eddie enjoying his last smoke, while you sit with your head against a tree and your eyes closed.  No one is in the mood for talking, and it is wise to conserve energy with very few resources at your disposal.

“A hamburger and fries sounds nice,” you said to break the silence with your eyes still closed.

“Mmmhmm,” Eddie concurred. “A big can of Spaghetti-O’s would hit the spot right now.”

Steve points the camera at his hiking boots as he steps closer, indulging in the fantasy. “I’ve been craving one of those clam chowder bread bowls like we had on the wharf in San Francisco.” 

“That was some good shit,” Eddie mumbles, sucking his smoke all the way down to the filter. 

The camera turns off again, and when it comes back on, you have it.  Eddie is charging ahead, waving his arms, shouting something about how you all need to follow the creek and you’ll end up somewhere eventually.

“Hey,” Steve is walking in front of you, but he turns around.  “Can you pass me the map? I want to check something.”

“Yeah, hold on,” you say, but then you reach back and realize you can’t feel the well-worn edges, and sudden, prickling dread takes over. Panicked, you reach around to check the other pocket, coming to realize the map is gone. 

“Are you sure you gave it to me Steve?” you lighty question, knowing that right now is no time for jokes. 

Steve gives you an exasperated look, as if you are goofing with him like Eddie might.  “Yes, you have the map, you always have the map.  I gave it to you after a map-check before we made camp yesterday.”

You kneel on the ground and put the camera down to do a proper search, your heart racing.  “Eddie,” you shout, making him stop abruptly in his tracks.  “Do you have the map?”

“Me?” Eddie turns around but stays yelling from a distance.  “Why the hell would I have it? It was fucking useless anyway.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve pats the air with his hands, trying to calm the meltdown he can feel building. His attention returns to you as you stand without a map in your hand and a worried look on your face.  “I know I gave it to you,” Steve reiterates. “It has to be somewhere in your stuff.”

You don't want to say what you are thinking, as you stand, pointing the camera at Steve again, but it comes out anyway.  “What if whoever attacked the tent took it?”

Steve grimaces.  “What would they want with…our map?”

“To make sure we have no chance of finding our way out of here,” you say it under your breath, and through the lens, you watch Steve’s jaw go slack as he takes on that possibility.  

When realization dawns that you were about to lose light and need to make camp again, a thick blanket of anxiety and agitation falls over all of you.  You are dragging your feet, camera angle pointed at the ground while the boys get the tent out.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” Eddie mumbles curtly, brow furrowing, and back teeth grinding as the nicotine withdrawal nips at him.  

You mention that you’ll go and gather some branches to make a fire, but Steve puts his hand out to stop you.  “Let’s not make a fire tonight.  We don’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

“Good idea,” Eddie grunts. “I’d rather freeze to death in a few hours than spend one more day fumbling around this hellscape.” He is digging through his things in Steve’s pack to see if there happens to be a stray cigarette or joint anywhere.  The frustrated anger rising in him is palpable.

“It’ll be a while before I ever go camping again, that’s for sure,” you muse to the group, and both the boys respond with enthusiastic nods of agreement. 

“I’m gonna burn this tent when we get home,” Eddie bites out.

When you turn to Steve, he is rubbing his forehead and staring down at the ground, pensively, and you ask if you should stop filming for a bit.  

Steve glosses over your question and asks another: “You promise you don’t have the map? Because if you have it, and you were just saying you lost it to be funny, I won’t be mad.”

You lower the camera so that it’s focused on his chest and the army green utility jacket he’s wearing.  “I’ve checked my pack three times,” you offer, earnestly. “I promise, I don’t have it.  I wish I did, Steve.”

In the background, Eddie curses at the top of his lungs and one of the tent pegs he’d been fumbling with goes flying through the air. “I’m so fucking done with this! Holy shit, what the hell are we still doing out here? This is fucking insane.” 

Steve motions for you to keep filming.  He’d tease Eddie about all of this later, he knew he would.  He’d also use it as fodder for the argument of why he should quit smoking altogether.

Steve turns toward his boyfriend with his hands on his hips. “I know you blame me for all of this, and I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? We’re all tired and hungry and miserable.”

Eddie snaps around, eyes dark and his body rigid.  “You bet your fucking ass I blame you! You’re the reason we’re about to get flayed by a bunch of inbred mountain people or die of starvation out here in this shitty-ass excuse for a forest.”

“You begged me to let you come on this trip, Eddie,” Steve is doing his best to keep his voice low, because matching Eddie’s tone when he gets upset never helps the situation. “Like you said, if we follow the creek, we’re bound to end up somewhere. It’s impossible to get lost for too long in America these days.”

Eddie’s nostrils flare.  “I begged you? I practically agreed under false pretenses one night when you had my dick in your mouth, I didn’t beg for shit.  I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend and watch him work, but that was back when I thought you were talented.  Now I realize you’re just a hack who can’t even read a fucking map.”

He regrets it the second it leaves his lips, and you can see it in the way the corners of his mouth turn down. “I didn’t mean that,” Eddie whispers.

You step back from the two, not sure what type of conflict is about to ensue.

You can tell it hurts Steve by the way his eyes water, and he pushes his glasses up to rub his face.  “No, you’re right,” Steve sighs, “It is my fault.  But maybe if you weren’t such a big, needy baby all the fucking time, I might have been able to think clearly on this trip.”

“I’m the needy baby? Seriously?  So what, little miss perfect over there gets let off the hook because she’s your perfect little puppet?”

“Hey, no need to bring her into this.”

“Guys!” You shout, waiting until they both look at you.  “This isn’t helping, okay? I for one am scared shitless about what else might be out here in these woods, and if we don’t stick together, we don’t have a chance.”

There is a minute long silence while everyone tries  to shake the anxiety out of their shoulders. Steve comes over to let you know you can turn the camera off, but then the sound of Eddie’s laughter makes you both turn.  

He’s bent over, hands on his knees, laughing so hard he is sucking in dry air.

You and Steve share an amused look, 

“What’s so funny, baby?” Steve asks, cracking a bit of a smile.

Eddie stands, face red from exertion. “You and that fucking map. I got rid of it yesterday! What do you think about that?” Eddie then convulses into giggles again, walking off into the other direction.

“You did what?” Both you and Steve say in unison.

Surely, you’d both misheard him.

“Yeah,” Eddie continues. “I kicked that fucker into the creek, it was useless!”

“You son of a bitch,” Steve spat, lunging at him. “How could you do that to me? To us?”

You catch Steve’s arm, trying to hold the camera and him all at once. The last thing you need is for these two to get into a physical fight.

Eddie starts to walk further away, but then he stops to turn on his heel and face the two of you, deciding to fight his case a little more. “We just kept going in circles, it wasn’t helping us!”

“You knew I was going crazy looking for it! Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve yells after him. 

In the distance, you see Eddie shrug, before matter of factly stating, “I need to go for a walk.”

“But it will be dark in a half hour,” panic bubbling in your chest. “Eddie…wait!” 

Eddie waves his arm in the air and keeps going.  

“Let him go,” Steve touches your shoulder, “he gets like this sometimes. Let him walk it off, we’ll finish setting up.”

Steve has an overwhelming desire to run after his partner, to say, “hey, stop, I love you,” but none of that ever happened.  He knew when it was best to let Eddie cool off.

He knows Eddie won’t go far, he’ll be back in a few minutes.

When you turn the camera back on, an hour later, Eddie is still not back.

There is a soft, orange glow from the sunset through the trees, but other than that, it’s pitch black out. Locking arms with Steve, he dances the beam of his flashlight around the forest while you film with the camera light on, trying to remain within visual distance from camp.

Steve had already screamed Eddie’s name so many times, his voice was becoming hoarse.

 “If you’re fucking with us, Eddie, I swear to Christ I will never ever forgive you!” He starts to imagine Eddie is crouched down by a tree somewhere, covering his mouth to hold back the hilarity of watching his boyfriend almost shit his pants looking for him.

Steve tries to break free from your linked arms, attempting to charge deeper into the woods.

“Steve, no!” You squeak, desperation present in your tone. You shift the camera to the crook of your arm, so it angles up at his horrified face. You really don't want anything bad to happen to Eddie, but you also can’t let anything bad happen to Steve. 

Steve suddenly turns to face you, eyes wild.  “But what if he’s hurt somewhere, what if he’s…damn it Eddie!...what if…”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence, you already know what he is thinking. What if the myths of the forest were true? What if there was an entity in the woods that fed on fear and needed a sacrifice every so often? What if there were hillbillies in pig masks carrying chainsaws and they often resorted to cannibalism? You’d watched too many horror movies in your life and so had Steve, and it wasn’t helping either one of you at that moment.

But, to be fair, it wasn’t all just in your head.  There is definitely something or someone else out there with all of you, and maybe it was just biding its time until all of you are broken.   

Eddie’s missing.  An hour later, it’s official.  

He wasn’t hiding or playing a game; he had somehow vanished into thin air. The guilt begins to creep and crawl, festering inside Steve’s chest, the buzzing of night insects heightening his sense of dread. 

You’d manage to coax Steve back to the tent. “We’ll go back and build a fire, so that he can see the light of it if he’s lost.”

“I’m not going to stop looking for him,” Steve mutters, screaming Eddie’s name again as he walks, his voice echoing off the emptiness as the cold air burns his lungs. He was too pumped full of fear and adrenaline to cry, but the tears were building behind his eyes. “It’s freezing out here and he’s only got that flannel on.”

“Listen to me,” you yank Steve around to look at you, being rougher than you ever have with him, but your eyes are kept soft.  “It would be very easy for us to get lost in these woods ourselves.  What if Eddie makes it back to camp and we’re gone?”

You let that sink in, hoping you can reason with him.  You notice that his shoulders relax.

“I bet he went a little too far and he can’t find his way back in the dark,” you continue.

  “He probably found some shelter to wait it out for the night.  He’ll be cold, but it’s not going to freeze, he’ll survive. We can go out and look for him at first light.”

Steve starts nodding to himself as he pans the flashlight beam over the forest again.  “A fire is a good idea, so he knows where we are.”

The active denial grips the both of becoming a makeshift coping mechanism, a way to hold onto hope when there seems to be none left.  You have a bad feeling that you may never see Eddie alive again, but you plan on keeping up pretenses for Steve for as long as you could.

 “We’ll find him, Steve,” you don’t want to lie to him, but you felt like it was something he needed to hear.

Steve struggles to meet your eyes, but you can make out a stray tear that’s making tracks across his stubbled cheek and it breaks your heart for him. 

“I didn’t go after him, didn’t even try to convince him to stay. How fucking stupid could I be?”

“No, Steve, you can’t blame yourself, okay, it was an in the moment thing, it’s going to be okay.”

“What part of this whole thing has EVER been okay?”

He turns his back on you and it sends a stinging pang through your chest.  A part of you can’t help but wonder if he’s wishing it were you that went missing. Maybe he’s wishing he never brought you along at all.

With a heavy heart and a signature rake through his hair, Steve shuts his eyes, takes a shaken breath and turns around, inviting you to step into his arms and you hook an arm around his waist. This embrace is welcomed, as you soak up the heavy warmth wrapped around you, making it hard to let go. Seemingly feeling the same, Steve leans in further, soaking up what he presumes is the last moments of peace, a crumb of tranquility. Feeding on the sliver of hope you’ve provided him.

A stuttered sigh slips from Steve’s dry lips.  His next words are nothing but a whisper, but it’s meaningful, and becomes tattooed amongst the trees.

“I can’t lose him,” his voice cracks.

Then, as if on cue, there’s a cry—a whimper of agony erupts from deep in the nothingness.

Steve snaps a look at you and a fist tightens over your heart.  You hold very still, making sure you heard what you thought you did, both wondering if you’d imagined it.

But then another scream follows, this one more drawn out than the first, and it sounds just like Eddie.

Steve braces himself, senses sharp, trying to find the direction the scream is coming from.  “Holy shit, that was him!”

There’s a scuffle as Steve bumps into you in his haste to move.  You almost drop the camera as he bounces off of you, losing his mind over the sound of Eddie's voice, you then scramble to catch the device before it falls to the ground. There’s only muffled noises for a bit as your arm is blocking the microphone and the lens catches the back of Steve’s legs, bolting into the pitch black forest.

“Whatever you do, don’t stop filming!” He shouts over his shoulder.

And then your heart is pounding, jackhammering in your chest as you take after him. Steve’s running, pumping his arms, and then there’s another scream and he catches himself for a full stop, freezing in place.  

The video takes in the side of his face, tears wetting his cheek under his glasses, his head turning in the direction of the scream.  “It’s this way…Eddie!...it’s coming from over there!” He points in that direction, and then his feet follow to a place where the trees get denser.

You glance over your shoulder in the direction of the campsite, wondering if the two of you will be able to find your way back, but then keeping up with Steve becomes a priority.  Breathlessly, you struggle to keep up the pace, you trip and try to avoid falling over tree stumps that are dotted along the path.

“Steve”, you manage to stutter in between sharp breaths, “How do we know, what if- what if it’s a trick. What if it’s not Eddie?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course it's…”

Another scream. 

Steve’s words die on his tongue, as all he can manage is a wide eyed frantic glare into the trees, before attempting once again to scream his boyfriend’s name in vain, begging to catch a glimpse of his frizzed up hair between the branches. 

You both speed up, using all the remaining energy left inside your weak bodies, ignoring the burning in your lungs and metallic taste coating your tongues. 

The woodland flooring begins to create almost a disheveled looking path, a trail appearing out of nowhere. Horrifying possibilities begin to bleed into Steve’s imagination, the memories of the past few days twisting in his mind as he tries to predict what state his boyfriend could be in. 

Steve stops to get his bearings, gulping in breaths.  His stomach clenches like he might puke, but he swallows down bile, hoping for another scream to pierce the night and guide his way.

You catch a glint of something silver nestled in the leaves of the forest floor, and you shine the light down there to get a look.  You swear it’s Eddie’s wallet chain, the one he had on the last time you saw him, but then Steve starts moving again, on the trail of a sound only he could hear.

Running full boar, dodging through the trees, something smacks Steve in the face, and he swats it away, thinking it’s a branch.  But then he takes a step back and looks up. You almost smash straight into the back of him, not realizing he’d stopped so abruptly.  Your camera light brings attention to what Steve is seeing.

Unsettling deja vu is shared between you both as you realize that a cluster of handcrafted stick dolls, like the one you found the other day, are dangling before you. 

Steve’s hand trembles, reaching out to touch the frayed twine from which they hang. 

"Steve, stop," you hiss, your voice is a harsh whisper, eyes darting over the dolls as they sway in the breeze. You can't shake the feeling that you are being watched; that something sinister is lurking just beyond your peripheral vision.

Ignoring you, Steve begins to count the dolls, pointing with his finger, his movements manic, his words a rapid, breathless murmur.

"One, two, three... they're leading somewhere!”

"Steve!" you call out to him desperately, your voice echoing through the forest, falling on blind ears. He starts to follow the primitive stick dolls, and you know you have no choice but to go with him into the unknown, the dread of what lies ahead producing blooms of sweat on your scalp. 

Finally, you emerge into a small clearing. There stands an old, weathered cabin.

 It appears abandoned and worn, its wooden walls covered in moss and ivy, and its windows cracked and shattered. The cabin looms like a forgotten relic of the past, isolated in the dense forest.

“Steve, I-I don’t think this is a good idea”. The air is heavy, and your teeth are chattering.

“Whatever happens,” Steve clicks his tongue and swallows hard, wetting his dry mouth. “Promise me you won’t stop filming.”

“Steve, are you insane?”

He turns to you with wide, earnest eyes, his voice dead calm under the circumstances, “Promise me?” 

You feel like you’ve officially lost him, whatever you attempt to say to change his mind would be useless. “I-I promise.”

Another blood-curdling yelp of agony pierces through the air.

“Eddie, I’m coming!” Steve huffs, motioning for you with a swing of his arm.

You both scramble cautiously onto the cabin’s creaking porch. You decide to zoom the lens in on Steve’s hand, reaching for the rusted doorknob, trying your hardest to focus. 

Dread seizes you, and you attempt to get through to him. “Steve, please, I think I do remember a way out of these woods, actually. What if we go back to the tent, wait till morning and try again?”

You manage to worm your way in between Steve and the door, blocking him now. Steve remains unyielding, shrugging you out of his way, twisting the door knob, and then pushing in the unlocked door. 

“Steve—” Your voice cracks. You want to find Eddie too but there’s something…wrong with this cabin, and you can’t find the words to tell Steve in a way that would make him give up the search.

But then he’s already through the open door, and you stay on his heels. The light from your camera dances over his flashlight beam into the broken floorboards and chipped paint of the interior of the cabin.  

The screaming has stopped, but now the dead silence invades your senses.  There’s no furniture, and the walls are bare. There is a smell lingering that hints to wood rot and black mold and rodent feces. You scan the camera around to show there’s a wide, empty room, and a hallway to the right.

“I-I can’t lose him,” Steve whispers, and your eyes are wet, heart hurting for what this trip has become. You can't let him go in there alone, no matter how much your instincts are telling you to grab him and run in the other direction. 

With each step you take, the cabin seems to expand into a labyrinth of winding corridors, narrow staircases, and hidden rooms. The walls are lined with faded, peeling wallpaper, and the air grows colder and more oppressive with each passing moment. 

But then Steve darts down the dark hallway and up a stairway and you try to follow, tripping on the first step in your hurry.

“He’s in here, I know it,” Steve gasps, and you can only catch his boots before he is already on the next floor.

Eddie’s cry sounds again, and this time there is no mistake— it’s coming from inside the house. 

Two floors up, there are empty rooms, but still no sign of Eddie.  Steve makes a point to direct your attention to the same type of child handprints you’d seen earlier.  “Did you catch these?” He asks pointing to make sure you got the shot.  

It looks like a dozen tiny children had dipped their hands in black paint and made palm impressions all over the wall over the ripped and stained wallpaper.

And then another scream, muffled this time, breaks the silence of your twin haggard breaths, but it is coming from somewhere deep in the cabin now—somewhere below.  You can almost feel the screams vibrate inside the soles of your feet.

The shout is followed by a heavy bang that shakes the walls. It makes you both jump, locking eyes with mirrored expressions of fear.

Without a word, Steve disappears back down the stairs and into the shadows of the second floor. There are no sounds picked up by audio other than Steve calling for Eddie, and you follow, taking two reluctant steps at a time. The weight of uncertainty makes your feet feel like lead, while the lightheadedness of your hunger makes your skull feel like a balloon, and you have to catch yourself on the wall to find your balance, stars crossing in your vision.  

The only sounds now are the heavy thuds of footfalls on the old stairs, and the drumbeat of your heart in your ears. There appear to be looming shapes all around you as you run after Steve, and the camera catches glimpses of things that are unidentifiable sliding along the walls.  

You hear Steve shout, “down here!” and then he is throwing another door open and it sounds like he’s bolting further down in the house, down into what must be a basement.

You think you catch a glimpse of a figure standing in the corner, but when you stumble back and point the camera light there, you realize it’s nothing.

“Steve?” You can’t get a visual on where he is now, but then you finally catch the open door and the glow from his flashlight beam. 

“I don’t feel good about this, Steve! Don’t go down there!”

But it’s too late.

You reach the top of the stairs.  “Steve, wait!”

“He’s down here somewhere, I know it!” Steve persists.

You take another look at him through the lens; he’s dropping down to the dirt floor and darting to the left, disappearing into the inky blackness.  The sound of Eddie’s voice has not been heard for a while, but Steve continues to call out for him, the tremor in his voice now catching with a sob. 

 Abruptly, you see Steve halt. 

He shouts up over his shoulder to you, “Did you hear that?”

The air is suddenly ice cold; freezing even.  You shrink against the doorframe and pan the camera to capture the front door behind you, noting that it is closed, and then quickly back to Steve.

Something in the basement startles him, and Steve drops his flashlight to the ground, smashing the light's glass in the process, making him curse before rushing back up to you, banking on the illumination from the camera light to help him find his way. 

Sprinting up the rickety steps, Steve is relieved to find that you are still intact, dutifully holding his camera and waiting for him. 

Your presence serves as his motivation to attempt to sprint up the stairs a little faster. However, something stops him in his tracks a few steps up.

Your heart is in your throat as you wait, but Steve pauses to look over his shoulder.  “I feel like there is something else down here.”

Your teeth are chattering, your words come out stuttered. “Hurry, Steve.  Let’s go!”

“Not without Eddie,” he says with a vigorous shake of his head, taking one more searching look into the seemingly empty basement.

The chill you feel is much more than skin deep as you pan the camera around the main room again to find it empty, all but for the shadows that appear to be crowding in. 

You can hear Steve make his way up two more steps, but before you can shine the light back down on him, there’s a loud THUD from somewhere below. The noise manages to sliver into the walls, sending an unnatural quake throughout the entire house.

 “Holy shit, what the fuck was that?” Steve jumps.

 His feet are moving before his brain can fully register what is happening. 

Steve never looks back again. 

He takes the next few steps and trips over himself in his haste, his glasses falling in the process.  He doesn’t even bother to bend over to retrieve them, he hears the glass crunch under his boot but can’t bring himself to care as the high volume of fear unravels him.

Adrenaline ignites his flight mode, and he’s practically crawling up the stairs with his hands now, scampering to get away from whatever or whoever did not want him down in the basement.

You stayed where you were, watching—filming. 

The sound of footsteps pricked your ears from the empty room behind you, prompting you to turn around to pan the camera again, shakily, but you were met with nothing but the decaying cabin walls. 

Your mind chooses not to register that the front door to the cabin is wide open now, the forest having its own personal view into the cabin, the branches silently watching.   

Steve has climbed closer now, stilling halfway up, with his face drained of color, bracing his hand on the wall for balance.  He meets your eyes for some much-needed reassurance. The documentarian in him wants to look back, to see what might be glaring up at him from the bottom of the stairs, but his fear won’t let him.

Four steps, one hand holds the camera, your other one on the doorknob. 

Three steps, you begin to shift to the side, ready. He’s so close, he’s ready to leave, make it out, you can see the relief in his eyes to be free of that hole. 

You’re both quaking like brittle autumn leaves now, it feels like the blood in your veins might turn solid and crack, and the air from your lungs is coming out like smoke.  

You feel the need to pan the camera once more just in case, but Steve is so, so close, you decide to wait. 

Two steps and he is about to reach out for your hand. 

One step. 

You slam and seal the door shut, holding your weight against it, twisting it a certain way so that it locks. 

Steve’s breathless, you can hear it, he’s panting. 

However, he’s not standing beside you. 

The camera catches the ornate, brass doorknob as it twists and turns, capturing the sound of his heavy fist banging against the wood, and it’s vibrating into your palm as you press it there, feeding on your guilt. 

“Hey, open the door,” he tries the knob again, with more force this time. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m fucking locked in here!” He pounds his fist, desperation mounting.

“I’m begging you, open the door.” He tries to ram his shoulder through the frame, and it's a pointless move, but it does make the regret bloom fresh within your chest. 

"Let me out! Get me the fuck out of here! Don’t leave without me, please!” He sobs, his voice turning shrill.

You press your forehead against the door, angling the camera down so that it's filming the floor. The camera angle exposes a flicker of something, just a tiny glimpse of some type of black markings.

Steve stops his banging, he goes silent.

Summoning the last of your courage, you say once more, "Sorry, I'm—I..."

Another forceful kick lands on the wood, he’s had enough, the forceful boot punctuating Steve’s plea. "Open the goddamn door!"

You start to back up then, camera almost forgotten as it records the floor.  Through labored breaths, you are issuing your apologies so softly, but loud enough for the audio to capture.  

There’s another loud thud, and the camera vibrates from the impact.

It’s followed shortly by the sound of a sickening crack from beyond the basement door.  Steve’s cry is cut short by another blunt thud, and you wince away, squeezing your eyes shut.  

You flipped the light from the camera off, thinking you’d shut down the entire device. Out of the darkness, the audio picks up what sounds like a hundred hissing whispers, speaking of unintelligible things, muddled amongst feet shuffling all around you.  

In the background, the next set of ears to listen to the tape will be able to make out the hollow thuds of a body being dragged down the stairs.  

To you, in the present, the sound prompts you to turn away from the closed door, your cheeks wet with tears. Your heart is heavy, lips dry and cracked, but you know that there must be sacrifices.

It’s all in order to maintain the balance. 

You really did the best you could for Steve: you got it all on film, you kept your promise.

“I’m sorry,” you say, one last time, and you mean it.

 There’s a rustling, another thud, and then the camera spins around as if it were thrown.

And then, nothing but static.  

Epilogue 

The bodies of Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, and their companion were never recovered from the forest near Burkittsville.  Most of the things from their campsite were recovered, along with a video camera and film that was handed over to authorities.  Contrary to what was found on the tape, there was no physical evidence of foul play anywhere on the property.  

Some experts speculate that you had something to do with their disappearances, others believe you met the same fate as your two companions.  When authorities went to question your friends and family, they found out that your life was a blank slate before you met Steve on the college campus, and your only living relative was a grandmother who lived in a nursing home not far from Burkittsville.

The police went to question her, but unfortunately, she was in the grips of late-stage Alzheimer's. There were two photos of you in your grandmother’s room: one was from when you were a toddler.  In the other, you were maybe 7 or 8 years old, surrounded by trees in a forest, holding up some sort of stick doll made of twigs. If one were to have a closer look, they would spot an odd, isolated cabin amongst the woodland background.   

-----

thank you for reading!

reblogs are deeply cherished, and so are your thoughtful words, but please, please try not to share any spoilers in the comments or the Blair Witch will get cha🧡

------

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

return to — steve harrington masterlist

you can find my story on wattpad here!

you can find my steve harrington playlist here!

you can read my story on wattpad or here on tumblr — whichever you prefer ´･ᴗ･`

𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟏

I - the vanishing of will byers

II - the search

III - the weirdo on maple street

IV - the house party

V - the body

VI - pictures

VII - the woods

VIII - don’t turn off the lights

IX - monster hunting

X - the kiddie pool

XI - let’s kill this son of a bitch

XII - happy holidays

𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐

XIII - mad max

XIV - new kids on the block

XV - halloween night

XVI - tension

XVII - episodes

XVIII - the cellar

XIX - sexual electricity

XX - the junkyard

XXI - hawkins lab

XXII - the spy

XXIII - together again

XXIV - the fight

XXV - tunnels

XXVI - the snow ball

𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

XXVII - scoops ahoy

XXVIII - suzie, do you copy?

XXIX - the code

XXX - evil russians

XXXI - the air ducts

XXXII - child endangerment

XXXIII - booby traps

XXXV - caught

XXXVI - drugged

XXXVII - escaping evil russians 101

XXXVIII - interrogate me

XXXIX - the bite

XL - the mind flayer

XLI - scoops troop

XLII - the battle of starcourt

XLIII - new beginnings

𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟒

XLIV - the pep rally

XLV - the nightmares

XLVI - the game

tba !!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[im-robins-bitch]

Steve loves his passenger princess. He adores having you sit next to him in the front. 

He loves how you’ll always share whatever you’re eating with him. How you lean over to give him the last sip of your milkshake and then kiss his cheek. He likes when you push a sweet into his awaiting mouth and he catches your finger between his teeth and sucks, the squeal you let out always makes him laugh. 

Your stuff always ends up forgotten in his glove box, a chapstick, a hair tie and sometimes a mix tape. The items always end up coming in handy, so much so he wonders if you must have some kind of sense of knowing what he needs when he needs it. 

In winter when his lips get all wind-chapped, he only needs to pop the glove box open to find a fruity chapstick you’ve left behind. As cheesy as it sounds, it always feels like a kiss from you when he tastes the familiar flavour. 

When he’s due a haircut and his hair starts to get in his eyes, he always finds a hair tie or scrunchie in the side compartment. You always complain that the headrests hurt your head when you lean back with an updo, so they almost always end up coming down. 

Your mixtapes, sometimes covered in hearts left especially for him, other times tapes you genuinely left behind, always remind him of you when he needs you. 

Mike once found Steve’s ‘makeout mix’, because you insisted Led Zepplin was the best to make out to and Steve wanted to prove you wrong. He’s not sure Mike is ever going to let that go. 

You took on your role as designated navigator, DJ and Steve feeder seriously, much to Dustin's chagrin. Anytime you would be picked up after Dustin, he was quickly relegated to the back. The two of you would bicker about it, normally ending in him throwing fast food wrappers at you while you played a tape he hated on top volume to drown out his complaints. 

Although Steve loved the kids, sometimes it was nice to be able to grab you and drive out somewhere quiet, he didn’t really like taking you to skull rock or lovers lake. He wanted to make sure you knew he wasn’t like that anymore. Instead, he would drive somewhere just out of town. He’d open the doors of his BMW so you could hear the music playing from the radio while you slow danced around the car, stargazed or made out on the hood. 

When he heard about how you struggled with and failed driver's ed made him a little happy. He knew that your driving dates wouldn’t be ending anytime soon. It just gave him more opportunities to spend time with you. He doesn’t want you to get soaked riding your bike to work, if it gives him more opportunities to ogle you in your work clothing then it’s just an added bonus. 

At first, it felt awkward to ask him to drive you somewhere because you couldn’t get there yourself. One day you expressed your concerns, that you felt bad that he always had to be the one driving you two to places and how he was always giving you rides. 

He was all reassurance as he insisted that he enjoyed driving and he enjoyed it even more when you were sat next to him. Whenever you would offer to pay for gas he would always brush you off, claiming he only accepted payment in kisses. He was always overpaid. 

Steve loves having you as his passenger princess but always say’s if you want to learn he can always teach you. Maybe one day you’ll accept, but for now, you were content like this.

masterlist

[upsidedownwithsteve]

We Tried The World CH1.

THE MASTERLIST SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, 287 MILES FROM HOME.

Steve picked you up a few doors down from your house at six o’clock in the morning the next day. 

Hawkins was still asleep, the whole town nursing a sleepiness that only came from a party that everyone had joined in on the night before. The morning air smelled like old bonfire smoke, the leftover fizz from fireworks and the sky was lilac and peach, the air hazy. 

You didn’t say much when you walked towards his car, the BMW idling by the park on the corner of your street. You’d told him to park away from your house, to let your aunt sleep through what would’ve been an awkward goodbye. 

You left a note on your bed instead, one that you knew she’d understand. After all, she’d been there through everything. Hawkins wasn’t home and you were never supposed to have ended up there. 

Steve hopped out and put your rucksack in the trunk for you and when you dropped yourself into the passenger seat beside him, he smiled and handed you a couple of cassettes to pick from. The windows were down, his tank was full and the height of summer was creeping into the car. Everything smelled like cut grass and coffee and boy. 

When you chanced a glance at your driver, he looked the way you felt, like he was at peace with what was about to happen, like it was all finally okay. 

His cheek was still angry, pink and lilac turning to blue and red overnight and he licked his split lip a little self consciously upon feeling your eyes on him. 

You thought he might tell you to quit it, to stop staring but Steve was soft around the edges, maybe from sleep, maybe from the relief you both felt when you approached the edge of town. The sign that told you both you were leaving Hawkins edged closer as Steve drove, the mocking “come back soon!” staring at you both. 

It felt like a challenge, it felt like a dare. 

Steve spoke then, the engine thrumming underneath you both as he flicked honey brown eyes towards you. 

“You sure?”

You stared at the road ahead before finding the boy’s gaze, a quiet determination coming over you. You think he saw it, or maybe he felt it -  like the air around you both changed -  because he smiled, a little crooked because of his cut but it made you grin back. 

The sense of adventure overpowered the unknown, the thrill of something new and all of the what ifs made your heart beat a little faster and for the first time in the longest time, you felt like you weren’t sleepwalking through the day. 

Morning had hardly broken and the sky was still a watercolour wash of pastel, but you were wide awake. 

You nodded and Steve’s grin was blinding, summer and sun in a smile. 

You drove as the sun came up, until the skies turned from peach to blue, the air growing warmer and the view outside your window had less houses. Steve hit the highway and picked up some speed, windows still down and the wind rushing at your faces as you left behind the old water tower, the trailer park on the outskirts of town, Mr Lumson’s old farm. 

Hawkins led out into open fields, green and gold and yellow, flat land broken up by old barns, forgotten tractors, a paddock of horses and cows. The road took you through other towns, some smaller, some bigger, gas stations with only one working pump, a vendor on the side of the road selling fruit and homemade iced tea. 

It all felt a little surreal, like you were daydreaming in the best kind of way. Because the wind threaded through your fingers as you held your hand out of the open window, it nipped at your open palm and you could smell the fresh air, the pine trees. Because you were sitting in the front seat of Steve Harrington’s car and he was driving you far away from home. You weren't even sure where you were going, you didn’t think Steve really knew either, but everything you loved was packed into the duffle bag in the boy’s trunk - and there wasn’t much. 

Some clothes, a few mixtapes, a few half empty toiletries in a make up bag you’d taken from underneath your aunt’s bathroom sink. A tin of pencils, your sketchbook, a few rings - all gold, some important, some not. All the money that you had. It wasn’t like the boy was a stranger, he wasn’t, not really. No one could feel like a stranger in a town like Hawkins, it was too small, people were too close and someone’s grandma always knew someone else’s cousin. You’d grown up with Steve, not by his side, but in the same circle - he’d been in all your classes from kindergarten to high school, sharing friends and the same drug dealer.

You were friendly with Robin Buckley, your aunt and you lived a few doors down from Nancy Wheeler, you babysat for the Sinclair siblings before Lucas moved up to high school and you were both invited to the same parties. You knew he worked in Family Video, you knew he’d chosen not to go to college after graduation. You knew his parents were always gone, you knew he was softer than he seemed and you knew that the reason for his back eye was most likely his father.

You knew he kissed like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs, like he was trying to tell you all his secrets.

And maybe, despite not knowing his favourite colour, his favourite food, his favourite song, you had the feeling you were more similar than you ever would’ve guessed, that you both shared that awful pulsing ache in your chest that there wasn’t a home for either of you anywhere. 

So when Steve pulled into a parking lot just off of the highway, somewhere near the edge of Illinois, you didn’t hesitate to nod when he asked if you were hungry, to follow him into the old diner with its neon sign and pink walls. It was nearing eight o’clock and the world was a little more alive now, the roads busier, the diner smelling like coffee and maple bacon. 

You found it easy to slide into a booth across from the boy, easier to let your gaze meet his, small smiles playing on both of your mouths. You ordered a tea, Steve a coffee and a plate of pancakes each and when the waitress scratched down your choices, she clicked her tongue, smiled and called you both a ‘cute little pair.’ 

No one really spoke until there was caffeine in your systems, bones warmed by hot drinks and the drizzle of syrup that you licked from lips and forks. It was a nice kind of silence whilst you ate, the kind you were sure you could get used to, the kind that could carry you across states, across the country. 

It was even nicer when Steve wiped his mouth with his napkin, tapped your foot with his underneath the table and raised a brow in question.

“So, where d’you wanna go?”

“Don’t you have somewhere in mind?” you asked him. This was his plan after all, he’d been the one to ask you, to invite you along. 

Steve shook his head slow, shoulders shrugging as if the destination had never occurred to him.

You sipped the last of your tea, watching the boy over the rim of the cup and he could tell you were taking your time to think. There was an ache in your chest that felt like the answer, that felt a little like the idea of home.

“California,” you said, voice softer than you wanted it to be. “Carmel-by-the-Sea.”

The sounds of the diner filled the silence between you two as Steve considered your response. The jingle of the cash drawer, spoons stirring in sugar, the pop of the grill behind the open kitchen window. 

But then the boy nodded and took another sip of his coffee. There was a soft sincerity colouring his voice, his pretty features, when he asked you: “What’s there?”

You felt a little embarrassed, so you looked at your almost empty plate, sticky syrup on the cheap ceramic, a quarter of your last pancake that Steve had helped you eat. 

“The ocean,” you mumbled, nose scrunched as you chanced a glance back up at him. “Never seen it before.”

You didn’t want to tell him that you hadn’t actually left Hawkins since you moved there when you were three years old. You thought that maybe Steve knew that, that he could tell, that he could guess. Because you were living with your aunt, a woman who didn’t really care, but the only family member left in your life that cared enough. Holiday’s weren’t a thing.

“There’s a lot of ocean before Carmel-by-the-Sea,” Steve smiled, a little teasing, a little curious. “What’s there?” he asked again.

Your lips twisted, a downturn of your mouth that you tried to hide because he had figured you out way too quickly. This stranger who wasn't a stranger, this boy who wasn’t really a friend. He was your last kiss though, your companion for the next who knew how many weeks. 

But still, it was day one and you were still guarding your secrets, yourself. So you shrugged as if you didn’t know the answer, like there wasn’t one to give and Steve was smart enough not to press. You turned to him instead, sticky fork in your hand, wielded like a weapon that you needed to protect yourself with.

You thought of all the questions you wanted to ask him and they rattled in your head, in your chest, making you feel panicked. You didn’t want to upset him, you didn’t want to cross any lines that hadn’t been set yet.

Why are you leaving town? Does your parents know you’re gone? Do they care? Did your dad hit you? Why did you kiss me? Are we gonna talk about that?

“Why me?” you asked instead and you cringed a little when it came out like an argument, voice a little too hard and harsh. 

But Steve just smiled again, fingertip tracing around the rim of his now empty mug and you were almost sure that there was a faint flush of pink high on his cheeks. He shrugged a little shyly before he flicked honey brown eyes up to yours. There it was again, that look, that unbearably soft sincere look, like he wasn’t about to judge you. 

“You’re the only other person I know with nothin’ to lose.”

You were a little speechless.

Another half shrug, a lopsided smile that matched the morning sun that was rising in the window behind him.

“The same as me.”

Something in your chest stuttered. Maybe your heart stopped, just for a half a second, maybe less, because something skipped a beat at the realisation that the boy knew you more than you thought he did. It’s why you told him yes, why you nodded your head in that strangers kitchen the night before, lips a breath away from Steve’s, both of you lit up in red, green and gold. 

Because with a dad that wasn’t around when you were born, a twenty something stoner with three jobs and no time for a kid, you weren’t sure you knew what it was like to have something that you’d miss when it was gone. It only took three years for your mom to feel the same way, bored of her daughter and the life in a small town in Virginia. You weren’t even sure which town. 

Too young to remember it as a home, your mom had dropped you with her sister in Hawkins, an aunt that had no time for a kid, but took you in nonetheless. You were sure there had been a false promise of a quick return. Your mom telling your aunt that she just needed a minute, just some time to get her head straight, didn’t she understand? You were too much hard work. You were difficult.

She told the other woman a week, two tops. And then you were celebrating your fourth birthday, your fifth, your sixth and every one after that with your aunt who never wanted you but never had the heart to say. She bought you a cake from the bakery on Main every year, bought you a new book wrapped in red paper and some cash in a card.

And every year you smiled and thanked her, brushed a kiss across her cheek and took a slice of cake to your room, where you watched the sprinkles melt and colour the white icing, where you pushed the dollars into the tin underneath your mattress. 

It had never been enough to buy a car, or a plane ticket. It wasn’t enough to take you where you wanted to go, not even close. But it could help you buy gas and food, maybe a motel room here and there. ‘Cause now you had Steve and that was a statement that you were sure you’d never get used to saying. 

You smiled at the boy, a soft laugh leaving your lips in a humourless huff and you nodded, pushing the last square of pancake around your plate.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “nothing to lose.”

“Do your parents know that you’re doing… this?” you gestured between the two of you, glanced out of the windows to his maroon coloured car sitting in the dusty parking lot. You were already both two hours from home, maybe more. “Do they know you’re gone?”

Steve grinned and you could tell it was sharp, without any happiness. The boy sat opposite you with his still sleep mussed hair, big brown eyes and nothing more than a similar sized rucksack in his trunk, right beside yours.

He thought of his room, empty and blue, a couple of books taken from his shelves and a pillow from his bed - the flattest one, old and in a chequered case, smelling like a home that was only really a house. 

The kitchen was empty when he left, the living room too, the only framed photos were shots taken in a studio, white backgrounds, pressed shirts, his father’s cold hand on his shoulder. Steve stopped smiling in the third one. 

He’d locked the door, stared at the key as he stood on his porch and toyed with the idea of taking it off of the chain it shared with the key to his car. He could post it, leave it on the doormat in the hall for his parents to come home to. He didn’t know when they’d return. He didn’t know when he’d come back, if he would at all.

Steve didn’t know where he was going. 

He posted his resignation into the letterbox of Family Video on the way to your house, slowed down when he drove through Robin’s street, wondering if the upset would be worth getting to give her one last hug. He’d spent the night before on the phone to her, hours and hours of frustration and a little anger, upset and unshed tears before he finally got his best friend to understand.

She made him promise he’d come back. She begged him. So Steve nodded even though the girl couldn’t see. He swallowed the lump in his throat and told her yes, that he’d come back, that he promised.

Steve really hoped he didn’t break it. 

He thought about telling you that his parents wouldn’t care, that his parent’s probably wouldn’t even notice. The landline could go unanswered for weeks on end and his parent’s wouldn’t think to get an early flight home. He could drive to Europe and back, take some trains, some boats, swim across the English Channel and return home before they noticed he was gone. But all of that sounded a little sad, and Steve reckoned there was plenty of time for sadness later.

So for now, he shrugged, waved a hand dismissively and tugged his wallet from his jean pocket. He smiled when you chucked a few bills on the table first, not bothering to argue or play polite, ‘cause you were both more than aware money was going to be tight if you were going to make it across the country together. And besides, he told himself, this wasn’t a date. This was an escape and it didn’t matter if he knew that you kissed like you wanted to prove something, that you tasted like cherries and something else sweet. 

He wasn’t gonna talk about that.

You both crossed the border into Illinois without much fanfare, the windows rolled down and the highway stretching out long ahead of you. The fields on either side of you were undisturbed, the sun blazing down on wide, green pastures, acres of gold wheat and every now and then, you’d pass an old barn that sat forgotten. The sign that welcomed you to the new state seemed a little monumental, despite the fact that the green backing of it was sun bleached and faded, but it meant that you and Steve were no longer in Indiana, no longer home. 

It felt good, it felt dizzying and with every mile Steve drove you both across the state line, your smile grew and so did Steve’s. He was beaming when you glanced over at him, hair wild from the wind that funnelled through the open windows, the car going just a tiny bit faster that it was supposed to. But you merely turned up the music, fingers gentle on the dial, whatever mixtape Steve had made pumping through the speakers with static and crackles.

It made the boy beam, and he matched the summer outside, warmth and sunshine in his chest, a new heatwave trapped in his eyes, an adventure waiting on his lips. He was a sight to behold and it made your chest burst, so you blinked, turned back looking out the window instead.

But you couldn’t help the burst of laughter that ripped prettily from your throat when Steve started singing, not all that badly, you noted. He garnered your attention once more, like he wanted it, like he liked it. He didn’t care that you were watching, that you were staring, his hands drumming out a beat on the wheel, a little off rhythm, his hair in his eyes, chin tilted up to the sun as he crooned. 

“There's a room where the light won't find you!” The boy was almost yelling to be heard over the roar of the car, and you were laughing through strands of wind whipped hair. “Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down!”

You sang the next line with him, much quieter and shyer than Steve did. But the words held the same weight to them whether they were whispered or yelled, and goosebumps tracked up your bare arms as you let them leave your lips. 

“When they do I'll be right behind you.”

Maybe it meant nothing, maybe it was just a song, just a band that Steve liked, that he put on a mixtape. He was just a boy, an almost friend, someone you kissed just once. Just a boy who asked you to run away with him, a boy with honey brown eyes, messy hair, freckles that looked like the start of summer on his cheeks. 

Maybe it meant nothing. It was just a song, you told yourself again. But then Steve looked over at you and grinned again, that same slow, soft smile you were already becoming so used to. Maybe it could mean everything. 

You rolled through small towns and dust roads, listening to Tears For Fears and wondering if your aunt had woken up and found your note yet. The morning became afternoon and the heat rose with the sun, heating the asphalt, the air, you. 

It had been over an hour, almost two, when you turned to Steve, cheek pushed to the fabric of the seat. Your gaze settled over him, familiarising yourself with the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. He had some stubble now, a shadow to his cheeks that hadn’t been there the night he kissed you. Pouty lips, impossibly pink and soft - easy to kiss, you remembered. Eyes that kissed in the corners, always sleepy looking, thick lashes, honey and brown sugar in the sun. Hair that was always a little wild, curling at the nape of his neck, around his ears.

Steve Harrington was a very pretty boy, you summarised. 

You cleared your throat when he caught you staring, a pair of Ray-Ban’s perched over his eyes now and despite the dark glass, you could see the way his eyes stuck on yours for just a second, before the road stole back his attention.

“So uh, what’s the plan?” you asked, trying for light and casual. 

“Cali, remember? Carmel, the ocean, right?” Steve looked confused, and the pucker between his brows only deepened when you laughed, not unkindly.

“We’re a long way from there, hot shot,” you smiled, gesturing to the road ahead of you both. “What’re we doing in the meantime?”

Steve parted his lips, thinking. Then he laughed too, soft like you did, and waved a hand. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Why, uh, why don’t we stop at town soon? We can get some supplies, take a walk, find somewhere to stay and figure out where we wanna go?”

You nodded before rooting around in the glovebox, nosy and entirely unapologetic about it. You scoffed, eyeing the boy with an air of disbelief. 

“What?” Steve asked.

“Do you even have a map, Harrington?”

“No.”

----------

It’s how you and Steve found yourselves in Springfield, a bustling town that was the second choice to Chicago, or first, where Steve was concerned. The boy had wrinkled his nose when you’d suggested it offhandedly, and he’d made a comment about avoiding the cities that were too big, too loud, too much.

Steve wanted quiet, he wanted something slow, peaceful. He wanted rolling hills, he wanted valley’s, he wanted to see green and blue, he wanted sunsets, sunrises, he wanted to see the stars, home cooked meals in tiny diners, coffee on the hood of his car in front of a lake. 

He wanted everything his own home couldn’t offer him, he wanted to get away. He smiled when you just nodded and said ‘okay’, like giving the boy what he wanted was the easiest thing in the world. 

So Steve parked up on a street corner in the middle of town, the sidewalks busy enough that no one stared at the two of you, busy enough that no one realised that you didn’t belong. But the crowds and bustle meant that Steve stuck close to your side, a hand always hovering over the small of your back, scared to touch but unwilling to lose you in a new place. 

The streets were lined with diners and some  small businesses; hairdressers, barbers, bookshops and nail salons. There was a fancy restaurant or two, a dentist's surgery, a pharmacy that looked straight out of the 1950’s and a car garage that sat on the other corner, four gas pumps and a bored looking attendant. 

The sidewalks were lined with small trees, striped canopies over the window displays, neon signs over twenty four hour diners and motels showing their vacancies. 

It was enough for the first day, you thought. Enough to keep you busy, enough to get started. So you tapped Steve’s shoulder and pointed to a small store across the street, one that looked like you could find what you needed in it. 

It seemed like a knee jerk reaction when Steve’s fingers slid gently around your wrist as you crossed the road. You didn’t pull away, you didn’t say anything but he was blushing when you looked at him, the skin where he’d touched you burning in response. 

He gave you a sheepish smile when he let go, pink on his cheeks and one hand scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. He didn’t look at you when he explained, “sorry, I uh, I hang about with kids too much.”

There was no time to respond before Steve was shuffling into the shop, the bell above the door tinkling gently. You managed to find a roadmap of the states, each major highway inked in bright red and you traced route sixty six, a small smile on your face. 

Your finger ran over the folds and creases, found the Pacific Coast highway and stared at the blue on the page, the dips in the lines that showed off beaches and coves.  

Steve came to stand at your shoulder, head above your own as he watched you stare. He saw your smile, the almost hopeful look in your eyes. 

His voice was quiet and soft when he said, “it’ll take us what, two weeks? Maybe three depending on where you wanna stop off?”

“Me?” You scrunched your nose, embarrassed to have been given so much say in a trip that wasn’t ever really your idea. “What about you? Aren't there places you’d like to go to? To see?”

Steve looked a little taken aback, like he’d never really thought about it. He shrugged, gazed back down at the map in your hands and moved a little closer so he could stare at the states, the roads, the lakes marked out in patches of blue. 

“I didn’t really think of where I wanted to go,” he told you quietly, “just that I knew I wanted to leave.”

You were quiet as you processed the boy’s words, your eyes a little sad as you looked back over your shoulder at him, at his bruised eye and cut lip. So you nodded, like you understood, folded the map back up and placed it on the cash desk before you grabbed a small book from the display next to the till, one that was titled ‘1001 Things To See In America.’

Steve didn’t say anything but you saw him smile, that shy stretch of his lips, the same one he gave you after he kissed you. It showed off a dimple on his right cheek, it made his lashes kiss at the corners, nose a little wrinkled. 

He looked really pretty. 

He grabbed some bottles of soda as you wrestled with your purse, stretching over your shoulder again to place them on the corner, a big bag of chips quickly following with some dollar bills. Steve grabbed the bag of snacks, took the book you picked and tucked it under his arm, grinning at you as he headed for the door. 

“Ready?” 

The question took your breath away, because it was so much more than one word. It was possibilities, it was a leap of faith, it was a new state, a different adventure. It was mountains, valleys, lakes, oceans, wide roads, wider canyons, the chance to see something new.  

It was absolutely terrifying. But you nodded and followed Steve out the door. 

—————

“Did you know that Kansas has the biggest ball of twine?”

Steve was stretched out on the grass of Lincoln Park, the book you picked in his hands as he grinned at you over its pages. 

You snorted. “Sounds riveting. Here,” you threw him a pen from your bag, taking your sketchbook out with it. “Start circling stuff that you wanna see, but no fifty foot balls of twine, please.”

“It’s actually only ten feet,” Steve told you, flicking through the pages absentmindedly. 

“That’s disappointing.”

It was the boy’s turn to laugh and he took a sip of his soda before he tilted his chin at the paper you were holding, craning his neck to inspect. 

“D’you draw?”

You flushed: your immediate reaction to being asked that question because it wasn’t something you showed off. You shrugged, held the pages a little closer to your chest and leaned back against the oak tree behind you. 

“Not well,” you muttered, squinting your eyes against the sun. You watched as Steve watched you, how he took in your closed off body, the protective hand you held over the blank page. “S’just something to do, y’know?”

So he didn’t press, didn’t push, just merely nodded and went back to the book, tracing the letters of a title you couldn’t see. It was peaceful, easy, a bag of spicy chips laid open between you, your knees tucked up so you could put pen to paper and sketch out the mess of the boy’s hair in secret. 

If Steve knew you were drawing him, he didn’t say. But he had to know, ‘cause your gaze was on him as much as it was your book and every now and then, your eyes met and he smiled. 

“What about The Ozarks?” He said, pushing the book over to you, his finger tapped a photo of sprawling forests, cerulean blue springs hidden amongst them. There were people in kayaks, swimming, jumping from cliff tops. “Looks nice, right?”

You hummed in agreement, nodding. “It does, it looks super pretty.” You twisted your pen to your paper, drew in the small mole on his cheek. “That’s Missouri, yeah?”

He nodded, taking the pen you’d given in and circling something on the page, bookmarking it for later. 

“About six hours away, if you wanna take the scenic route,” he mumbled, the map in his other hand, the edges of it curling in the light breeze. 

“Always take the scenic route, Harrington,” you commented lightly, your lips twisting in concentration as you shaded in the slope of the boy’s jaw. “That sounds like a plan though, at least, a good start to one.”

“Noted,” he smirked and after a few beats of silence, he stretched his leg over the grass to yours, nudging at your foot with his trainer. He nodded at the paper that was still tucked against your knees, hidden against your chest. “Do I get to see?”

You baulked. 

“Since it's me and all,” he grinned. 

Weirdly, you knew that if you said no, Steve wouldn’t protest or argue. You weren’t sure how, but you were so, so sure of that. Maybe that’s why you chewed at your lip and turned the page, letting him take in the dark lines and soft shadows of his own face. 

You’d drawn him from the torso up, t-shirt crumpled against the grass, hair wild from the drive, from the wind, his eyes downcast at the book he was holding. 

Steve stared, silent before he coughed out an almost embarrassed sound laughing, eyes flicking between you and the page. 

“Wow,” he mumbled, leaning closer to look. You could feel your cheeks heat up, the flush spreading across your chest. “Bruises and all, huh?”

You grimaced, regretting shading in the cut and marks around his eyes and lip, pulling back the paper and wondering if you’d crossed a line. 

“Sorry! I’m- fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-” you were rambling and it was awful. God, you felt awful. 

“No! No, no,” Steve assured you, “don’t be, it’s amazing, shit… it’s really good.”

You were burning. “Thanks,” you mumbled, staring at anything but the boy. “You have a good face.”

Steve grinned. 

“To draw,” you told him, voice a little too sharp and high. “Fuck.”

But Steve was already laughing, although it didn’t feel like it was aimed at you and the sound wasn’t cruel. He didn’t really look at you when he gathered up his things, the map and the book, his empty soda bottle. 

“You have a good face too.”

You were pretty sure you were still flushed by the time late evening crawled around, dinner was in an old diner with sticky leather booths, a fuschia sign outside that blinked and flickered as the sun went down. It took a little while after that to find a motel with vacancies, the two of you driving around in the warm night air, the windows still rolled down. 

The town smelled like leftover cinnamon from bakeries that were closing, fumes from exhausts, garlic and rosemary from the restaurants that only got busier the more you drove around the block. 

Eventually you spotted a sign a few streets down, close to the park you’d spent your afternoon in. A pretty, baby pink building with a red sign above it, green curtains lining the windows and the word “VACANCIES” flashing at you both from the main door. 

So Steve parked the car and brushed you away when he took both your bags out the trunk, slinging them over one shoulder like it was no big deal. Night was stretching in and despite not being all that far from home, the excitement of a new town, a new state, was starting to wear you both down. 

Sleep tugged at your eyes as the stars came out and once again, Steve guided you into the quiet motel with a gentle hand that didn’t quite touch your back. 

He spoke quietly and politely to the woman at the desk, looking at you questioningly when she asked how many rooms. The boy sputtered and stopped, eyes in yours as he let you take the lead. 

There it was again, that heat in your cheeks that seemed to be becoming a frequent feeling around Steve Harrington. But he waited patiently, the woman less so, and you sounded far too quiet when you said, “one, please. A twin.”

Steve didn’t say anything as you took the keys from the desk, slid the money you’d both put together into the woman’s hand. It wasn’t until you were both standing in the too small elevator that you smiled at him a little sheepishly, arms crossed over your chest and said:

“I didn’t wanna be in a room alone.”

The boy nodded and smiled, like it was okay, like it was fine. And maybe it was. ‘Cause he put your bag down on the single bed for you when you entered the room, his on the other and told you that you could use the shower first, like this was the most normal Tuesday night. 

The summer heat, leftover sunscreen and the hours in the car were sticking to your skin and the thought of a cool shower and some fresh pyjamas seemed far too enticing, so you did just that. 

The spray was a welcome sensation, a little weak, a little pour than a dribble but it was better than you could’ve hoped for considering you had no plans to even be in a tiny motel in Illinois until yesterday at ten o’clock. 

The party seemed an age ago, in someone's kitchen on Hawthorne Street, groups of strangers, some friends, colours in the sky and spilled beer on the kitchen tiles. A boy, familiar face, a new kiss, asking you to leave town. 

You stared at the baby pink tiles, eyes a little wide as the reality of the situation set in. Guilt rolled in your stomach as you realised your aunt would have most definitely found your note by now. 

Maybe she’d feel as free as you did.  

The buzz of the television played through the thin walls as you got dried and dressed, skin still damp as you pulled on old shorts, a too big shirt that had a photo of Prince on the front, some splashes of dried paint on the hem. 

Steve was lounging on his bed when you padded out barefoot, suddenly a lot more shy than you thought you would be. But he smiled and gestured to a bottle of water he’d left on the nightstand for you, brushing gently past your shoulder with his own towel as he went to wash the day away. 

The low lights in the room were a little too warm, pink tinged and making everything look rosy. Steve had cracked a window, enough to let the summer air in, a cooler breeze now the sun had gone down, the sky streaked with leftover indigo clouds and you could hear the buzz of cicadas from the park behind you. 

It felt a little dreamlike, a little surreal. 

And then as you were tucked into bed, the sheets a little scratchy, Steve walked back out in shorts and a threadbare shirt, hair damp and falling in his eyes. 

He pulled a pillow from his bag, a sad, flat looking one that still had its pillowcase on it from home. He chucked it onto his bed before tumbling in after it and he turned to look at you, expression almost unsure. 

“You okay?”

You shuffled, cheek pressed to the motel pillow and between you both, the light flickered once, twice, sending peach coloured shadows across the room. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, scared to break the silence that surrounded you. “How come?”

Steve shrugged, body lazy against the mattress and he stretched, humming in content as he did. “I dunno,” he whispered back, voice scratchy and soft with sleep. “I guess I just wanted to ask. Make sure you still want to do this, y’know?”

You smiled, appreciating the gesture, and you blinked at him, sleep tugging at you more and more. “Yeah, ‘course. The Ozarks right?”

The boy grinned and nodded, eyes shy and gazing at you from under his lashes. He pushed at his sheets with his toes, too warm, shoving them down his legs. You tried not to stare, not at the muscles in his thighs, the small scar on his ankle that shone silver in the low light. 

It was quiet until Steve whispered ‘goodnight’, leaning out of his bed to flick the light off, bathing you both in black. Outside, the town kept going, soft music coming from somewhere unknown, the murmured conversation from some people at the vending machines in the parking lot below your room. 

You don’t know why you asked it. Maybe it was because it was dark and you were suddenly a little unsure, maybe you just wanted to know a little more about the boy in the bed next to you - like you could collect some more pockets of the boy’s life, like you could find out enough to call him a friend, maybe, eventually. 

“Hey Steve?” You waited until the boy made a little noise in the dark, signalling that he was still awake. “Tell me a secret?”

There was a beat of silence, one that made the room feel warmer, summer sneaking in from the outside. You heard the sheets shuffle, the rasp of skin on cotton. 

“My dad gave me this black eye.”

His words were heavy, the way only a secret could feel. But it sounded like there was some relief colouring Steve’s whisper, like he felt lighter the minute he said the words. 

“I’m sorry,” your response felt silly no matter how much you meant it. 

“Tell me one too.”

You swallowed, paused, thinking. The hot prick of tears wet the corner of one eye and you were thankful for the dark, for the night. You brushed it away until it smeared into the mess of your hair, right by your ear. 

“Uh, I realised last week that,” you coughed, cleared your throat, sounding more strained than you wanted to, “that I can’t really remember what my mom looks like. Not unless I looked at a photo.”

More silence, still warm, maybe hotter from the burn that lit up your skin. It felt a little like shame, maybe guilt, like your three year old mind was supposed to cling to the memory of the woman who left you, like you were supposed to remember the shape of her nose, the smell of her perfume, the colour that hid in the middle of her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said too, and he sounded like he meant it as much as you did. 

You both slept after that, each other’s secrets clutched to your chest and you dreamt of roadmaps and a blue, blue lake, where a brown eyed boy was waiting for you.

----

KO-FI ♡

[queenbloody]

Hawkins guys with a busty s/o:

Steve Harington:

* Tits? Aren't they pillows? * I can only say that, if you continue with this man and fulfill his dream of a litter of Harrington's, I have to tell you, that will not nurse six baby's, you will nurse seven. * He likes to suck you off titts, there's really no reason, he just likes it.

Eddie Munson:

* This man loves, absolutely LOVES, having his face found between your boobs, no matter where, that's his confort zone. * He names your boobs, and says they are his favorite girls. * He keeps trying to convince you to get a matching tattoo with his, it wouldn't be much of a deal if it wasn't for the fact that he wants it to be on your boobs. (That shit must hurt)

Billy Hargrove:

* Oh, friend, what have you gotten yourself into? This man, THIS MAN, is totally obsessed with your boobs. They are always sensitive because he likes to use them as stress balls, the day he is not touching your boobs, worry. * He doesn't know the word "modesty", if he sees you with your back to him, paying attention to another person, rest assured that he will come around you from behind, will take your breasts as if it were normal and look at the other person with defiance, while you try to not die of shame. * Two words: tit-fuck. Don't say you didn't see it coming.

Sorry for my english, again.

[honey-flustered]

Scoops Ahoy Ken! - Steve Edition Imagine/Headcannon

Inspired by my post which is blowing up because everyone loves babygirl Steve 😫❤️

Ken Doll come to Life!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: oral (f & m recieving)(implied), nsfw below cut, fluff

So I’m thinking in the scenario where you randomly decide you’d like to buy a doll because you didn’t have a childhood where you got to play with dolls or any toys but as an adult, now on your own, you get to live out your dreams.

So you purchased this limited edition ken doll called “Scoops Ahoy Steve” because you thought he looked so pretty.

One day, you have a dream that he comes to life. Then, some luck of god and the next morning he’s life-sized and alive, sitting in your living room and waiting for you. You’d teach him about life and he’d be such a cute little himbo.

🍦 🍦 🍦 🍦 🍦🍦 🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Fluffy Headcanons

I think he’s the type to be very possessive of you because he still has memories of himself as a doll and remembers how well you’ve taken care of him so he’s madly in love with you

He’d try cooking for you but he’s not very good at it—because how the frick do you work a stove without burning everything down?

He knows how to fix a mean ice cream sundae, though 🍨

Scoops Ahoy Steve’s lore is that he’s a part-time babysitter so he’s great with kids and he’d like to imagine that someday you and him could have kids, however that works 🤭

Scoops Ahoy Steve’s personality is very whimsical because he’s always wanting to know about the world. Think of him like Giselle from Enchanted. He’s always so friendly with everyone he meets and loves putting smiles on everyone’s faces.

Whenever you’d curse too much, he’d lovingly call you a “sailor mouth”

Scoops Ahoy Steve makes such a great boyfriend because he loves to be attentive to you like a true Ken doll. He’s very supportive of everything you do and always wants to make you feel special

He loves wearing his sailor suit from time to time even though he has plenty of options of clothes to choose from since you’ve taken him shopping. He especially loves the way you look at him when he’s in it.

He’s very stylish though with his Ken doll background and sometimes will coordinate outfits for the two of you

He never has a bad photo or bad hair day. Ever even if you’ve tried catching him off guard the guy’s a model. Meanwhile, he has tons of photos of you in his phone ranging from cute to down right embarrassing but he loves looking at them whenever you’re not around

He gets a job as a manager to an ice cream place and he’s so happy because it’s what he knows and that the real world’s not such a scary place after all

He eventually adjusts better to our world and figures out he’s good at other things like playing sports and making children laugh. So he dreams of some day going to college to work towards being a teacher or coach 👨‍🏫

Again this man loves you. Like he LOVES YOU and will go all out to prove his love and devotion to you. I’m talking extravagant parties, anniversaries, just any event where he can make it all about you.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

NSFW Headcanons

Scoops Ahoy Steve would find your little ‘toy’ and he’d be so curious but jealous about it like, “Do you play with it as much as you did with me?” And it just be such an innocent question but he wouldn’t exactly understand the implications.

In the world he comes from, sex is nonexistent because everything is meant to be innocent. But he knows there’s more to just being boyfriend and girlfriend because he always gets the sudden urge to hold you down and kiss you, rubbing himself all over you

So when he finally does some research on exactly what that means, he’ll do everything he can to study the ways he can pleasure you

And pleasure you he does! The first time he performs oral for you was such an unsuspecting day because you didn’t see him as the type to be interested in sex. But that day he cooked you a meal he learned from a youtube tutorial, gave you some nice wine to sip on, and, of course, he wears thee suit. Then, once he feels like you’re relaxed enough he’ll start kissing all over your body.

You’d be so hot all over but feel like it’s wrong but he lips just feels so soft, wet against your skin after each kiss. You’d watch him kiss down your body, pulling off down your skirt and underwear and you’d know where this was going.

“You don’t have to do that, Steve. I’d love you even if we never—”

“But I need to,” He’d protest, eyes blown from a feeling of list he’s never experienced before. “I need to taste you.”

When the man eats, he’s a man starved. His studying paid off for sure because you think he’s mastered the art of cunnilingus. Every gasp and whine you make would egg him on and he’d do the most to get you to be as vocal as possible.

He wouldn’t mind when you’d curse all that much knowing how good you must feel. In fact, he’d even test some of those words on his lips as he moans into your core.

“Fuck, you taste so good, love. So creamy and sweet.” He’d groan against your core, thinking of all the various things he plans to do with you now that he’s had a taste. He’ll possibly involve some ice cream play in his next tryst with you.

Loves when you pull his hair and grind against his face because he knows he’s doing a good job

But he doesn’t understand the concept of overstimulation and tears of pleasure so when you weeping and forcing his head away 5 orgasms later, he thinks he did something wrong until you reassure that it’s so good that it becomes painful

He’s still confused asking you to show him so you ask if you could return the favor and you blow the hell out of him and his mind

Aftercare involves him just cuddling you and telling you how lucky he is to have you, hands all over your body to remind you that he loves your body as is even when you don’t always feel like beautiful.

We stan fictional men here! Scoops Ahoy Steve as white boy of the month pls 😘❤️😍

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

“I have lov-liked you since eighth grade”

pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Byers!Reader

WC: 16.6K (a biggie, happy early Christmas / Hanukkah / Kwanza / or whatever you celebrate)

warnings: cursing, the billy/steve fight (reader gets involved), my terrible writing at times. should be it.

summary: The day is saved! But what happens when you tell the one you lov-like something at the wrong time?

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG -The Byers Harrington Story-

lets say the snowball dance takes place the day before winter break cause they don’t give a specific date, but i always thought that. AND THIS IS MY FIC!! oh baby, NOW I CAN FULLY DO BOYFRIEND STEVE FUCK YEAH!!!!

gonna go on a little hiatus after this chapter. wanna try and stock up my inbetweens for season 2-3. hopefully i’ll be back sometime during the last week on december

series masterlist

@alecmores thank you for all the input when proof reading this season!

previous chapter  next chapter

Once again, everyone was split into groups.

Hopper and Eleven drove back to the lab to close the gate. Jonathan, Nancy, and Joyce drove to Hopper’s cabin to hopefully drive the mind flayer out of Will. While those two groups drove off into the unsettling night, your group stayed in your home, the kids were fully against their part of the plan. Dustin headed inside, calling Steve behind him for something. Just as you were following behind, Mike’s exasperated tone stopped you short.

“This is bullshit.”

“Language.”

“(Y/n), you know this is bullshit. We should be helping them!” Mike’s arms were thrown to the empty driveway, Bob’s car stationed.

“Mike, they don’t need us. Right now the best we can do is just not get into unwanted trouble, which I’m sure is already a challenge for you.” You left the boy behind on the porch, too tired to fully fight back.

Instead of being greeted by silence or hushed whispers when you reentered your home, you heard the sound of things falling and crashing into the ground. The crashing stopped and was followed up with talking, all of this coming from your kitchen. Muted footsteps carried you to the entrance of the kitchen, your side leaning against the opening as you watched the scene before you.

Dustin stood in front of the open refrigerator with all the contents spilled onto the floor at his feet. Steve stood across from him, a wrapped dead demo dog secured in a blanket resting in a bridal hold. No words came to mind at the scene, only a brow raised to the boys.

“You’re explaining this to Ms. Byers, all right?” Was the first thing you heard from Steve’s mouth.

He walked to the fridge and tried throwing the dead creature inside, its head and limbs too long and big to automatically fit the small box. You hold a hand over your mouth to muffle any chuckles.

“Christ. Help me out.” Steve demanded from Dustin.

“What am I supposed to do?” “Get the door, man,” Steve huffed at the kid.

Dustin sauntered over to the fridge door, Steve finally finding his way around the fridge and the demo dog.

“Ew. Jesus-”

“God-” Both of them voiced their disgust.

Steve leaned away from the fridge, Dustin pushing the door in. The two of them shut the door closed with a loud thud, panting at all the effort needed for the task. Steve rested a hand atop Dustin’s hat, a brotherly gesture that warmed your heart at the mindless action.

The moment was over when you heard the front door open and saw Lucas, Max, and Mike finally come back inside. You left your hidden spot and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing your broom and dustpan, you walked back to the living room and held the broom to Lucas and the dustpan to Max, “clean,” you pointed to the broken glass on the floor. They sighed but didn’t argue.

You turned back towards the kitchen, Dustin leaving first with a guilty smile thrown your way. You knew the reason but didn’t acknowledge it right away, not until you met Steve in the kitchen. He was squatting near the floor, resting his body on the toes of his feet, heels resting in the open air. A dish towel rested over his shoulder as he threw items into a grocery bag.

You walked forward two steps before you spoke, “why is my fridge on the kitchen floor, Harrington?”

He got startled at the sound of your voice, almost falling to the ground.

“Jesus,” a hand over his heart, “could ya’ warn a guy first?”

“I could, but you and Dustin put a dead demo dog inside my fridge.”

He cringed at your words, “you saw that?”

“Yeah, I did. That boy already has you wrapped around his finger,” you cheekily reply.

He stood to his full height, warming food forgotten at his feet, “Woah, woah. No, that- that’s not-“

“Oh, just say you like being an older brother.” You twisted your upper half to glance towards the living room then turned back to Steve, “besides…it’s a good look. This whole…” your hands waved around Steve, “paternal instinct. Didn’t know you had this side.”

You leaned your body against the side of your fridge, arms crossed over your chest, one hand toying with your right earlobe. Steve stood directly in front of you, blocking most of your view of everything but him. His hands rested on his hips, a hand quickly sweeping through his thick brown hair. His eyes couldn’t stay put, moving from your face towards the living room where you could hear the kids bickering, and landing back on you. He took a step closer, the space between the two of you closing, just a touch away from the other.

“Hey, um…I just…I just wanted…” Steve was fumbling trying to find his words, his hand that ran through his hair was held in the open space between your bodies.

“I just wanted to apologize, again. For the millionth time.”

Your brows creased, “are you apologizing for the food?” A finger pointed at the floor.

“No, yes, yes it’s one of the things I’m apologizing about. I’ll pay your mom for new food when she gets back or I can go grocery shopping with her or- or you if you wanted-“

“Steve!” You raised your voice to stop his rambling.

Your hands gripped his biceps, the space now gone, only an inch or two between your chest. Your head tilts back, enough to make eye contact with Steve, whose head is tilted forward, chin almost touching his clavicle.

“Steve,” a whisper for the two of you, “what’s going on? Why are you apologizing?”

He worried his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes at your feet. He then grasped your forearms, pulling your hands off his body, but sliding his fingers down until his hands connected with yours. He squeezed your clasped hands, a replacement for slotting your hands together.

“I…I heard some of your conversation…with Jonathan.” He trailed off quietly, nervousness in his tone.

“Oh. Um, I- I’m sorry you had to-“

“No, no. It’s- It’s okay, (Y/n). He’s right…you know, to be hesitant about me. He's a good older brother.” Steve released the hold on your hands, you had to restrain yourself from pulling him back.

Instead, you scratched your head with one hand, “Steve, Jonathan may be right…about things from the past, but he’s not trying to hear your side. He’s being a dick right now.”

Steve took a step back, a crack in your space, “yeah, well, I was a dumbass for all of high school. Friends with Carol and Tommy, feeding into their stupid games, constantly sleeping with girls, then finally settling that down when Nancy came along until that turned into flames.”

“Nancy wasn’t your fault-“

“But it kinda was. I wanted things to be normal, to pretend the past year didn’t happen.”

You wanted to reach a hand out, to touch him, console him, but you held back, choosing to nudge your shoe against his instead. “The past year has been hard on all of us. You can’t blame yourself ‘cause Nancy couldn’t voice her thoughts without liquor. And it’s not her fault either, she lost her friend. She wants justice for Barbara, and that’s understandable.”

“Maybe that’s why she couldn’t love me,” his voice was wet, choking back any tears.

You were quick to quiet those doubts, “no, no. Steve, I’m sure-“

You were cut off from your sentence when a loud commotion from the living room needed your attention, the kids were bickering loudly at each other. Steve left right away, not giving you a chance to give any final statement for your conversation, that’s gonna have to wait for another time.

You walked behind Steve as he pulled the dish towel off his shoulder and held it in his grasp, toying with it. From what you heard as you joined their group, Mike was arguing a bit with Lucas and Max about El and Hopper going back to the lab, worried for their safety- well, El’s safety. Dustin stood off to the side, not butting in with his opinion for once.

“Listen, dude, a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?” Steve tried to use his basketball logic in this situation.

It wasn’t the best metaphor. Mike immediately bites back, “Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game. And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

“Right. So- so my point is…” Steve stammered then trailed off, all of you waiting for the point, “right, yeah, we’re on the bench. So, uh, there’s nothing we can do.” He threw the towel back over his shoulder in defeat.

“That’s not entirely true.” Dustin rebutted. “I mean, these demo-dogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”

Lucas started to understand Dustin’s thinking, “so if we can get their attention…”

“Maybe we can draw them from the lab,” Max finished the train of thought.

“Clear a path to the gate,” Mike muttered.

“Yeah, and we all die,” Steve threw his hands out, not liking the idea. You were also a bit against their little plan.

“Look, I know you guys want to help, but I think it’ll be best if we stay here.” You stepped from behind Steve, standing in the clear space between him and Mike.

Lucas and Max looked at each other, Dustin and Steve bickered for a moment, and Mike in his own world stomped off to the kitchen, clearly not hearing you.

“This is where Hopper dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel. So…” he walked off, even one falling a step behind. “Here, right here. This is like a hub. So you got all the tunnel feeding in here.” He stood over a giant spot in the middle of the hallway then fell to his knees on top, “maybe if we set this on fire…”

“Oh, yeah? That’s a no,” Steve immediately cuts Mike off.

Dustin added to Mike’s idea, “the mind flayer would call away his army.”

“They’d all come to stop us,” Lucas finished.

“Guys-“ You were cut off by Mike.

“We circle back to the exit.”

“Guys.” Steve tried his hand, but no dice.

“By the time they realized we’re gone-“

“El would be at the gate.” Max and Mike conspired.

Just as you were about to step in and put an end to this whole plan, Steve clapped loudly and shouted to be heard over their lack of hearing, “Hey. Hey! Hey! This is not happening,” he wagged a finger at the four kids.

“But-“

“No, no, no, no. No buts. I promised I’d- we” a finger between the both of you, “keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what we plan on doing. We’re staying here. On the bench.” The kids rolled their eyes or crossed their arms as Steve continued, “And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand?”

A bite of your bottom lip held back a smile, a grin wanting to stretch like a feline. ‘Steve was really attractive when he was authoritative’ but now wasn’t the time to let your horny thoughts roam free. You cleared your throat and shook your head free of any inappropriate ideas creeping into your mind.

“This isn’t some stupid sports game.” Mike fought back.

Steve pointed a finger then grabbed the towel off his shoulder, using it to get his point across, “I said does everybody understand that? I need a yes.”

The kids didn’t reply and before they could give a verbal yes to Steve, a loud engine outside stole the show. Everyone’s heads turned at the noise, Max ran away from the group and jumped onto the couch, peering out the living room window with Lucas at her side. You rushed behind the two, leaning down to get a peek at this new development, all you saw were headlights and the faint tune of a rock song presumably blasting through the car speakers. A chill snaked up your spine.

“It’s my brother,” Max whispered. “He can’t know I’m here,” She turned to look at you, fear swimming in her eyes, “He’ll kill me,” a glance at Lucas, “he’ll kill us.”

“Ah, okay. Well, first, get away from the window,” you grabbed their shoulders and shoved them away from the open window, hoping Billy didn’t spot them.

You ushered them away, along with Dustin and Mike, and ordered them to stay near the hallway close to the kitchen. Wanting all the kids to be hidden from any wrath Billy would rain down upon them, especially on Max and Lucas. You looked at Steve who was staring at the front door, and you could already hear the gears turning in his brain, a bad idea was about to be born. You rushed to stand before him, blocking the view of the door and having his eyes drawn to you instead.

“Steve,” you whispered as you crept closer, “whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t.”

He kept his eyes on you as he rubbed his lips together, mulling your words over, then looked at the door again, “just keep the kids safe.”

He started to walk away and you boldly reached out and held his left wrist in your clammy grasp, heart racing while your eyes glued to the floor, watching the two pairs of shoes. You licked your lips, not sure what you were going to say or why you outright jumped over your boundaries.

“Steve…” your fingers rubbed over the bone and skin, “just- just…”

“Hey,” you watched as his feet turned towards you, an inch of space between the tips. The gentle press of a finger crooked under your chin lifted your head from the floor before making hesitant eye contact with Steve. His brows pinched in the middle, he stared with empathy dripping from the warm brown of his eyes. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise,” hushed whispers only for the two of you to hear and remember.

You weren’t brave enough to say anything back so you only nodded your head in reply before releasing Steve’s wrist and letting him free, heading into the night to hopefully scare off this beast.

The front door closing sounded almost like a gong, a noise reverberating and ringing within your eardrums.

“What…What was that?” Dustin inquired.

You kept your focus on the door, “nothing. Just a friend worried for a friend.”

“Really, cause it looked like-” Whatever Dustin was gonna say next, it was cut off by an abrupt oof, someone shutting him up.

You were fixed to your spot, hands flexing into fists then expanding, a repeated motion to try and calm your heart. You wanted to be beside Steve, wanting to keep him safe from Billy and his fucked up brain. Billy was crazy, you’ve been fortunate to only encounter the gross teen twice, once at the community pool on the last day of summer, a forgotten face, and a second time at school when he tried asking you out. You saw how he was aggressive when he didn’t get his way, how he would start spitting venom into your face, and with just a few mentions of Billy to Max, you knew how she felt about him.

“What are they talking about?” A mutter spread through the living room.

You snapped your attention away from the closed door and turned to the kids who were peering out the living room window, not even trying to keep hidden from curious eyes.

You rushed over and yanked the back of their shirts, dragging them away, “what the hell is wrong with y’all? Do you want to be seen?” “You think they saw?” Lucas asked, a touch of worry seeping his words.

His question was answered by the front door swinging open, Billy making himself present. You stood in front of the four kids, arms stretched across them, a weak cage to protect them from a wild animal. Billy’s wild eyes and crazy smirk made you want to shed your skin, a ghost feeling of his hands wandering over your body, fingers pressing deep into your flesh and leaving bruises in the shape of his hands.

“Well, if it isn’t bitch Byers.” he stepped further into the house, footsteps bouncing off the walls.

“Where’s Steve?”

“Oh, your pussy of a boyfriend…he’s taking a nap. But I’ll happily show you a great time.” He stepped forward, you stepped back.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Billy.”

“Ah, well, I can’t do that, Byers. See, I’ve got to have a conversation with Lucas Sinclair.” His deadly stare slid over your shoulder, presumably where Lucas stood behind you.

“I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max.”  His eyes went from Lucas to Max, his voice low.

“Billy, go away,” Max uttered, no waiver to her words

“You disobeyed me. And you know what happens when you disobey me.” He started to get closer with each word, “I break things.”

Billy started to rush forward, a bull in a china shop, and you knew you couldn’t hold him off at this moment. So you tried to push the kids away from him for just a moment, Billy’s hands shoving you off to the side, the force sliding you onto the kitchen floor, shoulder ramming into the legs of one of the chairs.

Only the yells of the kids told you Billy got Lucas, then you saw the hurried steps of Billy’s boots in your field of vision. He shoved Lucas into a cabinet in the corner, his face blocking Lucas, his scuffed shoes an inch from the ground. The low mutters of Billy spitting words directly into Lucas’ stock face, he uselessly shoved at his shoulders to try and free himself.

Quietly, you started to push yourself up, your body twisting so your knees dug into the wood flooring as you were preparing to run into Billy, but you were stopped when arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you away. You were stunned, but it also told you Steve was okay, which was one less thing to worry about tonight. He dragged you away from Billy and set you on your feet in front of the kids, his arms leaving your waist and his hands flying to caress your cheeks, fingers tucking hair behind your ears.

“Watch the kids,” his quiet command.

You didn’t have time to process Steve’s gentle touch, Lucas freed himself from Billy’s grimey grasp and ran back to your group, and you pushed him behind you. Billy was bent at the waist, hands resting on his thighs or over his crotch, you smirked at the karma Lucas handed Billy.

“You are so dead, Sinclair!” Billy roared.

Steve stomped up behind Billy, turning him by the shoulder, “No. You are!”

And he punched Billy square in the jaw.

Billy’s head flew with the force of the swing, his torso twisting and a hand flying to the red spot. Steve stayed in his spot, fanning out his right hand, and watching as Billy crazily cackled before you all. A crazed smile was stretched over his face and a trickle of blood stained a nostril. He was whooping and hollering like this was some stupid, fratboy game to him.

“Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh?” Steve ran a quick hand through his hair, “I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about!”

You kept watch of the boys, eyes trained mostly on Billy, waiting to see his next move. He walked closer to Steve, getting close to his face trying to intimate him or some shit, you wanted to move closer but held back. Steve stood his ground, not saying a word. It was like a western showdown, the three of you waiting with bated breath to see who would make the first shot.

You would, “get the fuck out of here, Billy,” with a stern voice. You shocked yourself with how stable it came out, you knew your body was giving a light tremble, and one of the kids' hands settled on your forearm.

Billy’s blue eyes slid off Steve and wormed themselves onto you, his tongue darted out and licked over his bottom lip, you wanted to cut it off.

“You should teach your bitch when to keep her mouth shut. Learn to speak when spoken to.” His eyes never leave yours for a second.

Steve didn’t turn to face you, but you notice the slight turn of his head, knowing he paid attention. His focus was still on Billy, the hand he punched with pushing into the blonde's chest making him lean back an inch, “get out,” you heard the low hiss of Steve’s command.

The air was now charged, you knew the feeling very well, it was charged with anticipation. Everyone waiting for the incoming bomb to explode and destroy everything in its path. You held your breath, hoping it could help in some way even though you knew it never changed the charging bull’s path. In the blink of an eye, everything happened.

Billy swung with his right arm, but Steve ducked in time to save his face and threw a solid hit with his left fist. Billy’s body swung with the force brought to his head, his body falling onto the kitchen table, paper and dishes falling to the floor.

“Yes! Kick his ass, Steve!” “Get him!” The kids were chanting behind you.

You couldn’t speak, only watch the sight before you. Billy started laughing again, but Steve cut him off with another punch to his face, body twisting and slamming into the kitchen counter. “Murder the son of a bitch!” Someone, probably Dustin shouted. Steve landed another blow, and Billy flew into the sink. “Now! Now!” “Get that shithead!” More chanting seemed to only be from Dustin and Mike, Max and Lucas haven’t said a word yet.

There was a pause in the punches, Steve only watching Billy who was grinning like a maniac, Dustin once again yelling in your ear, “Kill the son of a bitch!”

And within those quick seconds, Billy got the upper hand. Grabbing a plate next to the sink and smashing it over Steve’s head, throwing him off balance.

“Steve!” You and Lucas screamed just as Max shouted, “Billy!”

Steve started to stumble away, his back to Billy who was rearing up behind him, “Steve!” You cried out just as Billy grabbed his shoulder and landed a hard punch to his cheek. The force sent Steve stumbling into the living room, Billy throwing things off shelves in his anger field rampage. Billy gripped Steve’s jacket in a tight hold as Steve pushed against his shoulders, trying to create a bit of space between them, but it was useless. Billy pulled Steve a bit closer and growled into his face, “No one tells me what to do!” And he rammed his head into Steve’s, his body sliding on the floor, sending the papers askew. The only noises within the house were the loud and harsh breathing of everyone and the animalistic cries and grunts Billy released, “Woo! Get up!”

He stormed over to Steve, and the sounds of his steps echoed loudly within your ears. All you could do was watch Billy as he twisted Steve to lie on his back as Billy knelt and started throwing punch after punch. Not giving Steve a second to breathe, both fists were flying into his cheeks and jaw, Steve not even making a move to push Billy off. It felt like everything was happening in slow motion, Billy’s fist not stopping at any moment, the kids’ shouts and screams telling Steve to get up or yelling at Billy to stop or leave Steve alone, until you couldn’t stand seeing Billy beat Steve for a second longer, even your feet moved sluggishly.

You didn’t fully think it through, but you’ve been in certain situations like this before, with your dad beating Jonathan or stopping him before he could lay a finger on Will or Joyce, your first instinct was to stop the fists. So, when your mind caught up to speed, your feet moved into action and you rushed forward and jumped into Billy’s back, arms tight around his throat. You even used a hand to scratch at his face or pull his tangled knots so he would focus on you instead of Steve, who was laying still as a corpse on the floor, blood and broken skin littering his face.

You tighten your legs around his waist, acting like a koala. Billy stood up and away from Steve, his body twisting and thrashing to throw you off like a mechanical bull, but you’ve done this enough times that you know how to stay on. His claws would grip at your hands or legs, trying to pull you apart, but you would fight back, you even bit his ear hard and yanked at his hair forcing his body to lean back.

“You bitch!” He cried.

“Takes one to know one,” you taunted.

He sneered then suddenly slammed you into a wall, your breath left your lungs at the force. You could hear the kids' yells, but they were silenced with the force of the wall slamming against your spine, your head making hard contact causing stars and dots to spot your vision. Your grip loosened and Billy took that opportunity to flip you off his back and slam you into the flooring, only a foot away from Steve. You gasped, trying to collect any air into your lungs, but nothing was entering.

Billy, doing the same thing he did to Steve earlier, walked over to you and knelt, almost straddling you. A hand was fisted into the cotton material of your shirt, half your body off the floor and leaning towards Billy’s twisted face.

“Should leave the fighting to the men, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face,” a finger caresses your cheek and you flinch away.

“Didn’t know…you were such…a gentleman.” Your words came in breathless increments. “But…you see…I’ve already had… a man put his hands on me. And I… know how… to fight back.”

The feeling came back in one hand so you took the opportunity to fist it into his hair and tug, hard. You pushed yourself up and with both hands on Billy’s head, you slammed your skulls together, knocking Billy to the floor and giving you the upper hand. You scurried over his lap and quickly landed punch after punch, giving him the same treatment he handed to Steve.

The cheers of the kids were white noise, you couldn’t take your eyes off Billy, knowing he’ll get back at you any second. And once his face started to bleed, his cheeks and jaw redding, and your knuckles aching you had to let up a little. Your breathing came in pants and seeing that Billy wasn’t moving at the moment, you looked to the kids. Their eyes were wide, mouths gaped open. Dustin even threw a thumbs-up at you, but the peace didn’t last long.

Billy’s hands shot up and squeezed themselves around your throat. You tried to dig your nails under his fingers, and wiggle your way out, but he had a death grip on you and you’re pretty sure he was gonna kill you. Billy flipped the two of you around, you on the floor and his looming figure crowded around you. A hand reached out around you, trying to find something to knock over his head, but there wasn’t anything and you were terrified.

You could feel the tears welling up along your lash line, scared this is how you die. At the hands of some creep, Billy is probably gonna pounce on Lucas once life drains from your eyes. Your legs were kicking and thrashing, hands once again trying to pry him off.

“Should have let me take you out,” he got closer to your face, “I would have shown you an amazing night, make you forget all about Harrington.” And he stuck his tongue out and licked a stripe on the side of your face, you wanted to throw up.

“Fuck…you,” you choked out while you smushed your hands against his face.

That only spurred him to squeeze harder, your vision going fuzzy with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. Your legs stopped kicking, hands slipping from Billy’s face, your knuckles thud against the wood. And just as you feel ready to pass out, an angel peeks over Billy’s shoulder, green jacket, fiery red hair swaying with the motions, and something small held in a hand diving sharp into Billy’s neck. 

His hands left your neck to touch the syringe sticking out his neck and relief floods you. Your mind was dizzy, but at least you weren’t passed out, although you were probably a second away. You turned on your side, one forearm holding your upper body off the floor and a hand was lightly touching your throat, a bruise sure to last about a month, your throat felt like sandpaper, the saliva alleviating a bit of the burn.

You dragged yourself to Steve, he was still lying unconscious on the floor, but his chest was moving up and down, very slowly. You could hear Billy talking to Max, but knew it was safe now, the morphine was dragging him down, and then the loud thud of Billy’s limp body crashed to the floor two steps away from you. Everyone just watched, not saying a word, only Billy laughing again for the fifth time tonight. You watched as Max grabbed Steve’s bat and held it before Billy.

“Max…”

“From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?”

“Screw you,” was Billy’s response.

Max didn’t like the answer, so she swung the bat between Billy’s legs, and you honestly wish it hit a different target. Billy’s head looked at the bat then Max held it back over her shoulder, yelling at him, “Say you understand! Say it! Say it!”

“I understand,” Billy spoke quietly.

“What?” “I understand,” much louder this time. Then he passed out.

You could finally breathe properly, both mentally and physically. With Billy down, you allowed all your focus to be on Steve, your knees rested beside his shoulder, and you gently caressed his face, tilting it to see all the bruises and cuts displayed on it. “Oh, Stevie,” you cooed to no one but yourself. Thumbs and index fingers smoothing over the bumps and dried blood, a finger sliding down his nose trying to find any broken cartilage. You felt brave at this moment, so you leaned forward until your lips met his forehead, it wasn’t anything crazy, just a phantom touch for you to remember.

When you pulled back and away from Steve, you switched your attention to the kids as they were in a group huddle, whispers, and hushed voices scheming together. You walked to the group and that’s when they stopped talking, forced smiles, and bugged-eyed looks.

“What’s going on?” You huffed out, hands flying to your hips.

No one answered, only glanced at each other, “guys, just tell me. I’m not in the mood for games.”

Dustin stepped forward, “We’re going to the tunnels.” A statement.

“No.”

“(Y/n), either you come with us, or we’re going without you and comatose.” Max held a pair of keys between her fingers.

“Where’d you get those?”

“Billy.”

You thought it over. You knew they were going to do their plan no matter what you chose and if you were there you could keep them safe, but you didn’t want to leave Steve behind. Also, you weren’t sure about Billy, but you would rather be gone when he eventually wakes up.

“Fine, we’ll go,” you relented, “but, we’re taking Steve. So help me carry him to the car.”

…

“Max, for the love of god, please drive straight!”

“Well if Lucas could give me the directions a few minutes earlier that would be great!”

“I’m trying here, okay!”

For the last fifteen minutes, Max had been swerving and going probably thirty over the speed limit, rushing to get to the tunnels, but also giving you a heart attack in the process. You could have driven, you should have driven, but you couldn’t make yourself. Not when Steve had still been unconscious the entire car ride so far, you were starting to become heavily worried for him, especially since he should have been rushed to a hospital, but you didn’t want to split up. So you slipped into the cramped backseat of the Camaro with Dustin and Mike squished to one side with Steve’s feet resting in their laps and you were on the other side with his head resting in yours, hands keeping a firm hold to stop him from getting whiplash. Your eyes switch from frazzled at the state of Max driving to glancing at your lap and being frazzled with Steve’s eye’s not opening for almost an hour. Hands nonstop running through his wind-swept hair to delicate touches over the colorful band-aids Dustin grabbed from his backpack and taped over a cut on his brow and one near his chin. The ice pack you grabbed from the freezer on the way out was slowly defrosting, water droplets trailing down Steve’s forehead and running down the side of his face, landing with a quiet splat on his jacket shoulder.

You turned away from Steve and back to Lucas and Max in the front, Max looking ahead of her, only turning to Lucas for a couple of seconds when he was quiet. Lucas had his head buried in the giant map that was splayed across his lap, a finger trailed along a marked path, hopefully, the one leading to the tunnel. Your attention was dragged away when you felt movement against your thighs and it made your heart race.

Looking down at the head on your thighs, Steve was barely turning his head to the sides. You moved the ice pack to the floor and placed your hands on both sides of his face, not wanting him to hurt his neck or worsen the state he was already in. As you peered down you took notice of Steve’s eyes opened slowly, his lashes sticking together before peeling enough for him to see Mike, or at least someone else with the name that leaves his chapped lips.

“Nancy?”

Mike turned his head at Steve and pulled a face, one you would have chuckled at if your heart didn’t give a squeeze. Choosing to ignore the pang, you cleared your throat and leaned your head into Steve’s field of vision. Loose strands hung free and tickled his face, he tried to reach out but grunted in pain at the small stretch. You pushed his arm to rest on his stomach, hands staying on his face, wanting to soothe any pain he might have.

“Stevie, how are you feeling?” You let the old nickname slip, but he didn’t comment.

“Hurt,” was his only response.

“You put up a good fight.” Dustin stealing the attention, “He kicked your ass, but you put up a fight. (Y/n) made sure he didn’t kill you, pretty badass of her.”

“Jumped on his back, threw punches, and kicked him in the dick. She’s my new role model,” Max piped up from the front, turning to look back at you for a second.

“Eyes on the road, please,” you pleaded.

“What?” Steve moaned. He tried moving his arms again, a new target in mind.

His clammy touch reached your knuckles, pads on fingers tracing over the broken and red skin.

“(Y/n)...” He trailed off, another voice stepping in before he formed his thoughts.

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for a half mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” Lucas directed Max, a steady grip on the wheel and going at a slower speed.

Steve became more conscious, he directed his attention to the front seat, probably noting the two tweens then looking back at you, “what’s going on?” He was confused, understandably confused.

He tried sitting up, but you kept a firm pressure on his shoulders holding him down. Dustin tried calming him down, “Steve, it’s alright. She’s driven before,” but that was followed by Mike’s sarcastic, “yeah, in a parking lot. (Y/n)‘s the one who insisted on her.”

“I can’t see things at night. I need glasses,” you defended yourself.

Steve started to panic, he was mumbling to himself, cries of “oh god” repeated over and over. His hands trying to grasp at something, trying to pull his body forward, but you could see the flicker of pain over his face at the actions. You took it upon yourself to hold him down or against you, both giving the same result in this predicament.

“Stevie…” 

“They wanted to leave you behind, but (Y/n) and I were insistent.”

“Oh my god.”

“Dude, you have to calm down,” Dustin was of no help.

“Dustin, how about you stop talking!” You quipped back.

Your back and forth with Dustin didn’t help calm Steve down, and when Max decided to get a lead foot with the gas causing the car to shoot up in speed, it only caused him to freak out even more.

“Oh god! Oh god! Stop the car! Stop the car!” He repeated.

“Max! Slow down!” You cried to the redhead, still keeping a firm grip on Steve’s thrashing body.

“I told you he’d freak out,” Mike’s annoying voice piped up.

“Everybody shut up!” Max yelled, “I’m trying to focus!” Everyone but Steve shut their mouths, he continued his cry of “oh god”.

“Oh, wait, that’s Mount Sinai. Make a left!” Lucas stated.

“What?”

“Make a left!” He repeated.

His late directions caused Max to swerve into a mailbox before she hit the gas and hit a hard left, everyone shifting in their seats and screaming bloody murder. You would have laughed at the high pitch scream from Lucas, but you were too focused on Steve who was grasping at your knees while you kept a hand to the window for support.

“Max, if we want to save Will, you have to drive straight and slower!”

…

Max’s driving only got worse once she hit the giant pumpkin sign home to Mr. Merrill's farm, stopping hard before swan-diving directly into the giant hole where the tunnels lead beneath. You swear you almost slid off the leather bench and face-planted into the headrest of the passenger's seat at the harsh braking.

Once she turned the engine off, all the kids tumbled their way out of the car, leaving you and Steve alone.

“You okay?” You whispered, even if it was just the two of you.

Steve started to sit up away from your body, the grunts and quiet whimpers giving you the real answer before Steve lied and said, “I’m fine,” and then he toppled out the side door. You huffed at his stubbornness before following behind. You took notice of the kids collecting all the items they stuffed into the trunk, goggles, scarves, rope, gasoline, it was like they were military men who’d been through this before.

“Guys,” Steve called to them.

You just watched as they continued with their task, ignoring Steve as he called for their attention.

“Steve,” you stood in front of him, his back against the car holding him up.

Your hands rested against his cheeks, fingers once again tracing over his battle scars. Someone within you tonight chose to fully run from the lines you drew in the sand, maybe it was seeing how close Jonathan was acting with Nancy, maybe because you and Steve seemed a bit closer, or maybe because you saw Billy beat the crap out of Steve and you were scared out of your mind. Or you just wanted to make sure he was safe and comforted, who knows really?

“He did a number on you, Stevie,” the nickname slipped again.

Steve huffed, you stopped your motions, thumbs pressing into the clean skin of his cheeks while your pinkies sat under his ears.

“What?”

“I just…I haven’t heard that name for so long.” The kids were long forgotten between the both of you.

“Oh, uh, sorry. It- It just slipped.” You dropped your hands.

Steve caught your wrist, pulling your hands to his face, thumbs grazing over the dried blood, “you shouldn’t have fought Billy, he’s a psycho.”

He dropped your hands between your bodies, eyes focusing on you and only you. You wanted to tell him, wanted to get it through his thick skull that you would do anything to make sure he was safe. That you would go through hell and back if it kept him from getting bruises on his face or a broken nose. You wished you could show him what you want to say, wish you could smother his bruised face in delicate kisses, hoping every press of your lips could soothe any of the aches bothering him at this moment.

But you couldn’t do any of those, so you chose a simpler option, “Steve, I’ve dealt with worse before. I know how to handle shitty people.” Your voice tapered off, and a flash of your dad hitting you crossed your eyes.

“Hey,” a pull of your hands.

Steve was staring at you with deep intensity, it made you release a quiet gasp and it caused your heart to pick up speed, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever again. Not if I can help it.”

You tried to keep your face calm, not wanting to show him how much that statement, that promise, meant to you, “And I promise to keep you from harm and to always clean your wounds.”

“Are you two saying your vows? Kinda early, isn’t it?” A high-pitched voice broke the bubble.

You immediately stepped away from Steve, missing the warmth on your wrist already. You cleared your throat and looked at the tween before you, snorkeling goggles snug over his eyes and nose, a thanksgiving table napkin tied around his throat, and finally, a pair of old garden gloves covering his hands and his backpack straps sat on his shoulders.

“We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear.” Steve turned away from you and faced the boy, with a stern tone of voice.

Dustin just rolled his eyes, “yeah that was before you passed out, then (Y/n) was in charge and she’s fine with it.”

“Okay, I didn’t say I was fine with it. I just know you four idiots were gonna do this either way and it would be safer if I came with you.”

“(Y/n), we’re doing this for Will.” Dustin reminded you.

Your harsh demeanor slipped when he reminded you, “yeah, I know. I just don’t like heading directly into danger. I did that last year and it wasn’t fun.”

“I also did that last year and I kicked ass with a bat,” Steve reminded the two of you.

“Yeah, but you didn’t know beforehand. I made the concise choice days in advance, which means I’m an idiot.”

“That doesn’t make you-”

“Guys!” Dustin shouted, “I don’t care about whatever you’re talking about. Right now we are about to jump into an underground tunnel to save Will. And the both of you promised to keep us safe,” he shoved the backpack out to Steve, the bat’s handle sticking out, “so keep up safe.”

…

It’s like you fell down Alice’s rabbit hole into Wonderland, but a darker, much more twisted version.

All the kids headed down before you and Steve, Dustin the last of them to join. You and Steve shared a look, both of you having goggles protecting your eyes and a bandana tied around your neck. You hated this, you wish you were back home right now, but you tried to push the anxiety away. Right now Will needs you, and you need to burn this out of him so El could permanently close the gate.

“I’ll head down first,” Steve decided for the both of you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine.” He tugged the red bandana to cover his nose and mouth before heading down below.

‘It’ll be fine’ ‘Everything is going to work out’ You had to repeat to yourself like a mantra.

“(Y/n)!” You peered below and saw Steve looking up at you, his arms stretched up.

With a few quick shakes to your hands and head, you slipped your scarf over your nose and gripped the rope tightly. When it was only your head above the tunnel, you felt hands gripping your waist, your shirt lifting a bit at the touch. You loosened your death grip on the rope when you knew Steve had a secure grasp on you, your back slightly sliding down his front.

‘Of course, when some shit goes down Steve and I manage to get more touchy’ ‘It’s not fair’

“You okay?” A breathy whisper in your ear.

You hope the shiver that ran through your body wasn’t visible, “yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” You looked around at the environment surrounding you, it’s like you were inside the digestive system, which didn’t help with your thinking much, “holy shit.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s this way.” Mike was on the right side of the tunnel.

“You’re pretty sure, or certain?” Dustin argued.

“I’m one hundred percent sure. Just follow me and you’ll know.”

Steve stopped him before he could leave, “whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, I don’t think so.”

Mike turned to him, “what?”

Steve stood in front of him, a flashlight shining in his eyes, “any of you shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?”

“Well, what about (Y/n)?”

“She’s more responsible than me, so all blame is going to be pointed my way. From here on out, I’m leading the way, and (Y/n) will be at the back.” You didn’t want to be at the back but didn’t protest. “Come on, let’s go.” Steve took the makeshift map and led the way.

…

‘I hate this I hate this I hate this I’

“(Y/n)?”

You almost tripped over one of the many roots that were sticking out of the ground, Dustin’s hands helping keep you upright. You allowed yourself a second to stop and just breathe, even though that wasn’t the best option with the spores floating through the air.

“Are you okay?” Dustin stuck to your side.

You wanted to lie, say you were fine and hoped it comforted the boy in any way, but you couldn’t. “Not really, but once we’re out of here, I’ll be better.” You continued your speed walking.

Steve kept a quick stride, his longer legs helping while you and the kids struggled a bit, your legs got tired quickly but you just pushed through. The sooner this is done, you can all haul ass out of here and be free from demo dogs. Soon you were brought to a new area, a giant open area where multiple tunnels snaked out from and a light fog settled at the floor.

“What is this place?” You could hear Max's question.

“Guys, come on. Keep moving,” Steve commanded.

The other three followed behind like baby ducks following their mother. You stepped around Dustin as he was looking around the place and you didn’t want to fall behind and get lost, but when he stopped completely you turned around and took notice that he was looking at something above him.

“Dustin!”

Then something sprayed directly into his face causing him to scream and wave his arms about, “Shit! Shit!” He fell to the ground before you rushed over to him to assess any damage done to him.

“Dustin! Dustin!” You could hear the others making their way back toward the two of you.

“Dustin, tell me if you’re hurt,” but he was just spasming on the ground.

“What happened?” Steve knelt beside you, looking between you and Dustin.

“I don’t-”

“It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth! Shit!” He pulled the napkin away and was coughing.

Five pairs of torches were pointed at Dustin, his heaving slowing down before he stopped and looked at your group, “I’m okay.”

“Are you serious?” “Very funny, man” “Nice. Very nice.” “Jesus, what an idiot.” They all grumbled before leaving you and Dustin.

“Dustin, you sure you’re okay?” A hand rubbed over his shoulder.

He huffed a few times, “yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

You nodded your head, stood up, and held a hand out for him to take.

“Byers, Henderson, let’s go!” Steve shouted from ahead.

…

“All right, Wheeler. I think we found your hub.”

“Drench it.”

The kids got to work on soaking as many square inches of the space, top to bottom, every side, and tunnel opening. Lucas had an old weed sprayer, filled with gasoline and covered the walls and ceiling. Max, Mike, and Dustin spread their containers of fluid on the ground and the nest that was resting in the middle of the space. You and Steve stood back and kept watch for any movement that could be a demo dog.

Once they were out of fluid and the room smelled like twenty gas stations, the kids ran behind you and Steve. Steve held the lighter in his hand and looked over his shoulder at the four of you.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” “Ready.” “Ready.” “Let’s get this over with,” you muttered.

“Light her up,” Dustin confirmed to Steve.

“I’m in such deep shit.” Steve panted before flicking the lighter and throwing it.

Roots and vines started to thrash in the flames. You threw your arms over your face to ward off any heat, but it was no use. You started to push the kids to start running back to the rope, Steve grasping your hand in turn as he pulled the both of you away.

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” You muttered, or Dustin, or Steve, or everyone was thinking the same thing at this moment.

Steve had to release his hold on you to look back at the map to guide everyone, you stayed near the back as he went to the front, light slicing through the muddy dark. In everyone’s hast to leave, you almost didn’t register the noise of Mike tripping or screaming for help. You turned back to him and tried to use your hands, hoping it might loosen enough for him to slip free.

“Steve! Help!” You cried for the boy.

“Hold on!”

“Steve, pull him out!” Dustin demanded as he grabbed Mike’s arms.

“Move! Move!” You heard him shouting as he rushed over.

You jumped away from the root wrapped around Mike’s ankle and watched as Steve threw the bat down, hard. Then again, and one more time before it slithered away and Mike scrambled away. Steve held the bat low, his chest huffing with the energy he just used, a hand running through the wild strands.

‘I think I’m in love’ You stared with your mouth agape.

“(Y/n), come on.” Steve pulled you up with your hands intertwined.

When you turned around to continue your hasty leave, a low growling stopped everyone, and blocking your trail, a demo dog snarled at your group. Steve pushed you behind him and held the bat high, ready to swing at any moment. You grasp the back of Steve’s jacket lightly, both in fear and not wanting him to walk toward it.

But it was Dustin who started forward, a hand reached out for him but missed, “Dustin!” You hissed at the boy.

Everyone else joined in low mutters and hisses, trying to stop Dustin in his tracks. He just shushed everyone and continued his slow steps, the demo dog copying his movements and getting closer to him.

You could hear the quiet words he spoke to the creature, “Hey. It’s me, it’s me. It’s just your friend, it’s Dustin.” He knelt to level with it, like an adult talking with a child. He continued to talk to it with hushed whispers, then it flared its mouth, its floured head and rows of teeth on display. Everyone jumped, and you clutched Steve’s jacket a bit tighter.

“Dustin! Please!” You once again try to reason with him.

He just held a hand out, a stopping gesture. He resumed talking, then took his backpack off and pulled something out, holding it up. It might have been a candy bar, he always carried some type of food in his backpack. He dropped it to the floor then he waved behind him at your group to walk through the tunnel. One by one everyone tiptoed past the demo dog, it seemed consumed with the candy which you were thankful for. As you were the last one past, Dustin gathered his bag and then joined your group, saying goodbye to the beast.

…

An earthquake threw everyone off their feet.

“What was that?”

“Just go! Go!” Pushing the kids forward, then you hear it.

The loud thundering of growling and feet of a stamped. 

“Run! Run!” Mike cried.

One more tunnel straight then a final left turn brought you back to the hanging rope, ready to bring you to safety above ground. Steve stood under the rope and helped Max up first. Then, once she was above ground, it was Lucas’ turn. Once Lucas was free, Mike was next and you could hear the growls getting louder, closer.

“Dustin, come on,” you made a hand basket for a foot to boost him higher.

With your extra boost along with Steve’s help, Dustin was safely above the tunnels when you heard the thundering paws heading in your direction.

“(Y/n)! Come on, go!”

“Steve, I barely passed gym, I can’t do pull-ups!”

You ignored the exasperated huff that escaped Steve’s throat, instead mentally preparing yourself for death. But the tugging of Steve’s arm wrapping around your waist and pushing you behind him as he raised the bat, took over instead. The roars and growls were getting louder by the second, almost drowning out the kid's cries for the two of you, but you could still hear their desperate pleas.

“Steve…” you pressed your front directly against his toned back, arms looping tight around his waist.

You felt him stiffen, but held your position, “Steve…if we don’t-”

“We’re gonna be alright, (Y/n),” one hand dropped to caress your forearms.

You absorbed his words, deciding to not continue your mindless ramble. You just held him tight and shoved your face just below his shoulder blades, the sounds of the demo dogs running towards you sounded like a waterfall directly in your ears. You waited for the screams, the blinding hot white pain, the trickles of blood seeping from your wounds, or having your bones bend and snap, but none of that happened.

You didn’t dare move your face or open your eyes until the noise died down, and all you could hear and feel was you and Steve, your chests heaving and gasping in loud pants. Your tight grasp slipped, Steve twisting to face you, his free hands jumping to your cheek.

“You okay?” You could almost feel his breath on your face from how close he stood before you.

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded your head as confirmation.

“Love birds!” You jerked your head up, the kids all staring down, “let’s go!”

…

“Steve, I don’t think you should be driving.”

“I’m not letting Max behind the wheel of a car until she has a permit.”

“We were in a rush!”

Once you and Steve were out of the tunnels, finally a moment of peace for the day, the headlights of Billy’s Camaro blazed to life, blinding everyone. You thought nothing of it at the moment, but once when dimmed back to normal, you realized it was Eleven. She had closed the gate, Will was freed from the mind flayer, and you could use a nap right now. So everyone tumbled into the small car, you and Steve now in the front with the kids in the back, their grumbles falling on deaf ears.

“Do y’all want to stay at my house? Honestly, it would be so much easier.” You twisted to face the four tired kids.

They just nodded and mumbled their acceptance of the invitation before dozing off. Max leaning on Lucas’ shoulder, Dustin and Mike knocked their heads against each other, neither making a move to change to a more comfortable position.

“You think Billy’s still there?” Steve whispered.

“For his sake, I hope not,” you grumbled as you slumped in the passenger seat.

…

The house was quiet, but the lights were still on. You and Steve gently shook the kids awake, the heels of their palms digging into their eyes or running the back of their hands against their mouths to wipe away drool from the thirty-minute ride back. You didn’t lock the door on your way out, so Dustin was the first to enter with kids in tow, then you, then Steve.

“Where’s Billy?” Max muttered, hands rubbing at her eyes.

“I don’t know, nor do I care right now,” was your answer, which she took perfectly fine. “Boys why don’t you sleep in Will’s room, you can maybe all fit on his bed. Max, you can sleep in my room with me, if you want.”

Everyone accepted the sleeping arrangements, the boys decided to get the sleeping bags that they keep when they stay over. Their feet drag on the floor, high-pitched noises following until the two doors close, leaving you and Steve in the living room.

“Is it…Can I-”

“Steve, I will tie you to a bed so you can get some rest. But first, I have to clean you up.” You tugged him behind you with a grasp on his wrist.

The harsh yellow lighting of the small bathroom caused your eyes to squint, needing a moment for the light throbbing against your temple to dim. You dragged Steve to sit on the toilet, hands dropping to his lap as you moved to the sink storage, pulling out the dusting first-aid kit. There hasn’t been a need to use it in serious emergencies for about three years, it was still well stocked from the last time Joyce refilled it.

You grabbed some cotton balls and the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, saturating them enough before standing before him, “this is gonna sting, so…you can hold me if you need to.” You leaned in, left hand sitting at the juncture of his jaw and neck while your right hand with the cotton balls dapped quickly and gently at a wound on his brow.

Steve’s hands shot up and gripped your hips, tight. His hissing filled the quiet night along with your soft mumbled apologies, one right after another, he would hiss and you would apologize. You made quick work of the many bruises, the one on his eyebrow, his forehead, and a bit of his cheek. And you’ve already gone through four cotton balls that have dyed red.

“Steve…can you- can you open your legs?” You flushed at the sentence. Even Steve threw an arched eyebrow at you, “I- I need to get closer.”

He chuckled at your stutters, spread his legs wider, and with the help of the hands at your hips, he tugged you closer. Stomach close to his face, he could press himself into you, or dig his chin into the doughy flesh and stare up at you, which would cause the butterflies to erupt. You had to ignore the thunder of your heartbeats, hand moving to hold his cheek as you started on his nose bridge.

His eyes were closed tight, brows creasing in the middle from the pain the liquid was causing him. His fingers dug into your jeans, but his pointer and thumb found their way under your shirt and pressed into your flesh. As you changed out the dirty cotton ball for a new one, Steve’s eyes opened and peered up at you, while your hands moved from his cheek to a firm grip on his chin.

“I’m pretty sure Billy was a boxer in a past life.” Thumb tugging his bottom lip.

“Eh well-” you pulled away for Steve to speak, “I haven’t been brushing up my fighting skills.”

You scuffed, “you should cause no offense, but Jonathan whooped your ass last time,” you chuckled a bit at the distant memory.

“Hey, come on!” His hands kneaded at your hips.

The bathroom was filled with your gentle laughs, a moment in time when everything is good. You finished cleaning Steve’s wounds and placing bandaids over them. The trash was filled with dirty cotton balls and the plastic paper from the bandaids. You didn’t step away from Steve’s hold, hands continued to caress his scraped face, thumbs running over the beige coverings. Fingers ran through the sides of his hair, his eyes closing at the scraping of your short nails over his scalp, he looked like he could purr at any moment.

“Our knight is Levi jeans,” you muttered.

The moment broke a minute later, having to pull yourself away from Steve before you allowed yourself to be consumed by him. You shuffled around the space, doing some quick cleaning before you headed to bed, also wanting to distance yourself from Steve. He felt like a magnet to you, something that you couldn’t help but be drawn towards.

“(Y/n)...” the air shifted.

You kept your eyes on the first-aid kit, fingers toying with the bandaids. It wasn’t until Steve’s hand grasped your chin and turned your head to face him you forced yourself to make eye contact, even for a second. His hands changed positions, and his palms cradled your cheeks, holding you as if you were a piece of priceless china in his mother’s cabinet. You saw his eyes glance to your neck, you couldn’t see it, but your throat did feel tight and sore. A dark bruise in the shape of Billy’s hands, something to last for almost a month, a constant reminder.

But you didn’t want Steve to focus on that right now, it was over anyway. With your pointer finger on his chin you tilted his head up, eyes moving away from your scarred throat to now gaze into your piercing eyes. And it was like you almost saw something click in his mind, eyes lighting up.

“(Y/n)...I-” Steve licked his lips, eyes darting over your face, “I- You are…fuck it.”

His hands pulled your face in, lips crashing into each other. It wasn’t anything crazy, just the hard pressing of your lips against the others, maybe one of you waiting to see who would make the next move. Steve took the leap, but would you continue this bliss or pull away before it could go further? You had this split-second choice to make and you made the selfish one.

Arms moving on their own accord, they copied Steve’s position, hands caressing his cheeks with rings and pinkie fingers resting along his jaw. A tilt of your head allows for the kiss to move further, lips moving into a rhyme. It was intoxicating, the feel of Steve’s lips, the strong smell of him mixed with his fading cologne, the strands of hair parting through the fingers that sneaked their way up, the nose that left Steve’s mouth at the firm tug on his hair. He drove you crazy, his tongue snaking into your mouth fully caused your mind to shut down, all your thoughts were of Steve.

‘Steve Steve Steve Ste-’

The abrupt shove of your hands against his shoulders cut the mood. Steve stumbled back with a step or two, your own body moving to the door, needing as much space between your bodies. A hand danced to your lips, tingling with the sensation of Steve, your cheeks aflame with his lingering touch. 

“(Y/n), I’m sorry,” Steve took a step closer, but you put a hand out to stop him, “I thought…I just thought that-” “Steve, I’m gonna say this once, so please don’t talk.”

You waited for a confirmation he understood, a quick nod of his head and you shakily released a breath, “Steve. I have lov-liked you since eighth grade.” You caught yourself before you actually said it.

You paused, wanting to see if he’ll react to this statement. The only visible sign was his eyes widening.

You looked at your twisting hands, not brave for this conversation, “Well, actually I liked you in fifth grade, but I didn’t understand what I was feeling at the time. Not until I noticed kids our age kissing, holding hands, and sharing smiles did I realize. I wanted to do all that with you, I wanted to make you laugh so I could see you smile, and not one of those fake smiles you threw to your friend group or the teachers. The one that pulled your lips wide, laugh lines creasing in ecstasy. And when I was able to do that one time during Mrs. Smith’s English class, I knew for sure.”

You glanced at Steve, he sat on the toilet lid, face in his hands with his elbows digging into his thighs. You wished to walk over to him, but both of you need the space to breathe and think clearly in this situation.

Steve lifted his head, eyes boring into yours. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” His voice was a whisper.

A scuff escaped, “Steve, we weren’t even in the same orbit until last year. And mind you, you and Nancy were dating. I wasn’t going to embarrass myself just so you could reject me.” Arms crossed over your chest.

Steve immediately stood up, “Nancy and I broke up.”

“Yeah, official, like today. I don’t see where you’re getting at.”

A step forward, “I had a crush on you,” another step, “But I never did anything ‘cause I knew my parents would reprimand me if they found out I was hanging out with you and the other kids were being dicks when they noticed I looked your way for too long.”

You just stared, “when I got to high school I tried to get those feelings to go away. I would go out with girls, sleep with them, or dance with them at parties. Anything to get you off my mind, the glimpses of you in the hall, your tired face wanting to fall asleep during one of Mr. Jones’ lectures, or the quick turning of your head before I looked your way. You lived inside my brain for the longest time and I thought it was gonna stay that way forever until Nancy came along.”

“Okay, ouch.”

His hands stretched out, “just- just listen, please.” You stayed quiet.

“Nancy and I had this thing going for a while after she started to tutor me. Notes in lockers, meetups from prying eyes, sly looks, and comments in the halls. She was the first girl who started to pull my attention away from you, and fuck, it made me a bit happy.”

That quick exhale stabbed your heart, but you tried to show no reaction, you probably failed.

“When I saw you in the halls, my heart didn’t race as much, my gaze wouldn’t stray your way as often. I thought I was finally moving on, leaving my childhood crush behind and going for a girl who was within reach and reciprocating the feelings I was showing, but then Will disappeared. When Will disappeared you reappeared in my mind, and the dull thudding of my heart sped up when you were around, my eyes wandered to you if you were in the same room. But I was still happy with Nancy, I liked being with Nancy.”

He got closer during his ramble, the wide gap was now only a few steps separating the both of you.

“Steve…”

“But as the year went on, she was distancing herself. Got lost in her head, upset when I suggested being dumb teenagers for Halloween night. And Halloween, that night in itself is a mess.”

“Steve, please, just stop.”

He got closer, “(Y/n) I’m trying to tell you I’ve always had feelings for you, it’s just now that I’m acting on them.”

“Steve, you're being mean. Stop it.” “What?” “Stop it.”

The sting in your eyes alerted you of the incoming tears, “Steve, I’ve been seen as some type of freak almost my whole life, by some of the town folk, fellow students, and my dad. I knew I could never have you and it hurt every time I reminded myself, but I accepted it. But you telling me that Nancy, Nancy Wheeler, one of the most perfect girls in this town, helped you move on from me, it’s the worst pain imaginable. I didn’t want to know that, I’m already criticizing myself against Nancy in my mind. You’re making me feel like a replacement for her.” “But I do want you, I’ve always wanted you.” He pleaded, hands reaching for your hands.

“Steve-” you let him take your hands, hoping they’ll help him understand the words coming from your mouth, “Steve, I want to be with you, I’ve been dreaming, waiting for this moment. But if you’re choosing to finally do this just ‘cause you’re free from Nancy, I don’t want it.” You slipped your hands-free.

“I know you’re still in love with Nancy, who wouldn’t be, she’s the girl next door. And I heard you the day after Halloween, I heard you begging her to say it back. Just cause you officially broke up today doesn’t mean shit. The both of you need proper closure, she left with Jonathan for two days and comes back close with him. And we’ve been crossing lines as well, and I hold myself accountable for some of it. But what I’m trying to say is,” hands grasping his cheeks to hold his attention, “I will not be your second choice.”

“But you’ve always been my first,” his hands circled your wrist.

“Not in my eyes.” You slipped free, “When you have your shit together, Steve, we’ll see.”

You rushed out of the bathroom when the final word slipped from your lips, not wanting Steve to see you crying over him.

…

November was once again, shitty. Well, it was peaceful with the Upside Down sealed off for good, but it was personally shitty for you.

Work felt suffocating, knowing Bob won’t be coming anytime soon. The lab faked Bob’s death, some bullshit about a car accident just outside the city limits. It made your blood boil, you wanted to scream and point your finger directly at them, yell at the top of your lungs and tell all of Hawkins, “Bob died because of this stupid fucking lab! He saved my family and friends from being eaten alive! He didn’t die in some fucking accident!” But you couldn't, no one outside your circle would believe you and you knew the lab could make you disappear one day, gone off the face of the earth.

There was a small funeral for him, not many people showed up, and you were a bit disappointed at the turnout. You and Joyce were at the front, both of you stone-faced and flushed from the cold wind biting your cheeks and noses. Jonathan didn’t join and neither did Will. You understood with Will, he was still recovering from the scare Nancy gave him to push the mind flayer out of him, but Jonathan…you were just peeved at his absence. Hopper was there, giving comfort to the both of you, squeezing your shoulders or pulling you into hugs when your body shook with tears.

You hated funerals.

…

You couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving break.

School days felt like they lasted a decade, moving too slowly for your liking. You kept your head down in the halls and during class, not wanting to meet Steve’s eyes or even Nancy’s. Running the other way if you saw even a glimpse of Billy or his ratty hair walking through the halls. He knew you could handle yourself, but you didn’t want to be around him either way, wanting to be as distant as humanly possible.

Eddie and Robin were worried about you, your behavior was a bit more abnormal than usual, but you couldn’t tell them everything so you picked certain details, including…

“Steve told you what?!”

You flinched at the loud cries of Robin and Eddie, both of them sharing baffled expressions. You peeked around the library, catching the turning of heads at the noise, and cringing inward at the look Mrs. Gray was throwing at you. Eddie and Robin didn’t seem to care that they broke the one rule of the library, too busy exchanging looks with each other.

“Can you please not draw attention our way?” You pleaded.

Robin shook her head with her hands hovering in front of her, “whatever. Steve told you-” “That he’s always liked you?” Eddie cut her off, a furrow on his brow.

Just a shrug was your reply. You changed the story a bit when you recounted your weekend.

“Steve came to my house Saturday night, bruised to hell, telling me he wanted to talk. So I let him in and helped clean his face since it seemed he wasn’t in a rush to see a doctor, insistent on whatever he had to tell me. As I cleaned his cuts, I got closer, standing between his legs and holding his face and in turn, he held my hips and squeezed when the pain hit.”

“Hot,” Eddie voiced, all you gave was a deadpan glare.

“Anyway, when I was done, we just stood there. Barely space between us, hands touching each other and just gazing into the other's eyes, and then…it happened. Steve pulled me forward and we kissed, and it lasted for maybe two minutes before I pushed him away.”

“Why? Aren’t you happy he kissed you?” Robin interrogated.

“I’m getting to that.” You just wanted to get this over with, “He started on this ramble, well, actually I told him I liked him, but then he went on his ramble. How he liked me in middle school as well, but he held back because of his parents and the kids making fun of him. Said he started hooking up with girls just to get me off his mind, and then he said Nancy was the first girl to get me off his mind.” A crack broke the sentence.

“Oh, (Y/n),” Robin rubbed a hand along your upper arm.

“Uh, and then it just got a bit messy with our conversation from there, but that’s pretty much the gist of it. But at the end he said…”

You haven’t spoken to Steve for about two weeks now. Anytime you saw him in the halls, either walking your way or you leaning against the lockers near yours, you would turn on your heel and run the other way. If you were in his presence for even a second, you would break. You so badly wanted to hear him out, finally get the boy you’ve always dreamed about, but you needed more time. You told him to get his shit together and get closure between him and Nancy before he made a proper decision, but honestly, you need to talk with Nancy as well. Seeing her with Jonathan, the two being happy, it messed with you a bit.

“I hate people in love,”  you grumbled.

“Me too,” Robin and Eddie spoke, voices intertwining

…

“What are you doing here?”

“Here to talk with Nancy, dingbat.”

You ignored the eye roll from Mike and made your way to Nancy’s room, stopping to say hello to Mrs. Wheeler and Holly. You were nervous but knew this was closure you also needed. Needed to hear the words directly from Nancy’s mouth, and see the sincerity on her face, it would make you feel better about the idea of being with Steve.

With gentle knuckles knocking on her door, you heard her faint voice call for you. You peeked your head in before stepping all the way in and closing the door behind you, slow steps towards her bed. You haven’t been up here since last year, after the woods incident, and you felt a bit uneasy.

Nancy looked up from the homework that was spread around her, tangled curls pinned back by clips and her shining face was on full display. The pang was back in your heart, “She was the first girl who started to pull my attention away from you, and fuck, it made me a bit happy” the sting hit your eyes and you could feel the clog forming in your throat.

“You okay?” Nancy’s sweet voice stopped the sentence from repeating.

You wrung your hands together, eyes falling to the floor and watching your sneakers toe into the carpet, “uh, not really,” you spoke honestly.

You heard the shuffling of the bed, “what’s wrong?” Then you heard her backtrack a bit, “did- did you have Bob’s funeral yet?”

“Yeah, a week and a half ago.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence, “when’s Barb’s?”

“First Saturday of December.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. You knew you were the one to ask Nancy if you could talk, but you fully want to run back home at this moment.

“(Y/n)...why are you really here?” Her voice was gentle.

You chewed at your bottom lip for a moment, “I…I wanted to talk…about Steve.” You whispered his name like a curse.

“Ah.” That was all she said in response, you snapped your head up.

“Ah? Why ah?”

The smirk toying at her lips nerved you a bit, it suddenly felt like a setup, “Steve wanted to talk a few days ago.”

Your eyes widen, “he did?”

She nodded her head with a closed-lipped smile, you eyed her with curiosity as she patted the space beside her, an invitation to you. The mattress sunk with your added weight, one leg bent in front of you while the other rested on the floor. You and Nancy faced each other, homework and textbooks being the only border.

“Steve likes you, you know that, right?”

A simple nod, “He told me. And I told him I liked him.”

You saw the shrug of her shoulders, “okay, that’s good. But why do both of you seem so mopey?”

You just gave her a look, hoping you didn’t have to say it aloud verbally. You knew she was smart enough to get the reason why both you and Steve wanted to talk with her. You just stared at her a little harder, and you saw the moment it clicked in her mind, a lightbulb going off.

“Oh. Well…what- what do I have-” “Nancy, Steve loved you. He cared for you, and you…” you trailed off, not wanting to accuse Nancy of anything from their relationship.

“I wasn’t very fair in our relationship, I understand that now. And I did like Steve, so much, but I don’t think I ever loved him, or at least not the way he loved me. For a while it was fine, but slowly, I- I just… something changed. And I wanted to get justice for Barb and her parents, Steve wanted to pretend last year didn’t exist and I just couldn’t do that.” You could see the hurt within her eyes, “And when Jonathan was helping me, it felt right. It felt like that missing piece was finally found and completed the picture I was looking for.” A smile.

“Don’t you feel a little… I don’t know, guilty? Or something? You just fled Hawkins, gone for two days then came back, you and Jonathan seemingly closer. Were you and Steve even broken up when you left?” You hated to burst her bubble, but you had to know.

“No, I don’t. Cause I did something to stop the lab, but yes, I do feel a bit guilty about Steve. We got into that fight before I left, I should have at least talked with him or something. But, (Y/n)-” Nancy reached for your hands and held them, “I saw the passing glances, some from you and some from Steve. I saw the wanting in your eyes, the longing for him. And I’m telling you as a friend, Steve is a good guy, he’s grown since last year.”

“I know.” And you do, you’ve seen it first hand, the personal growth Steve’s gone through in the past year.

“So I hope you think about it when I tell you to go for it. When Steve goes to you, hear him out, process his words, and if you want, accept him with open arms and a giant smile. I want to see you happy, you deserve it, both of you.”

…

The Snowball dance didn’t start until eight, so by five is when everyone started to get ready. Will hopped into the shower while Jonathan and Joyce made a quick dinner for everyone since there was only gonna be punch and snacks at the dance. When Will was out of the shower and Jonathan ate half his meal, he took his turn in the bathroom and cleaned up.

Around six-thirty, there was a loud knocking on the front door and you already knew who it was. With sock-covered feet, you shuffled across the wood flooring and opened the door with a welcoming smile.

“You excited?” You questioned the young girl.

She had a beaming smile, cheeks pushing into her eyes. Curly hair waiting to be tamed by water and gel, her dress and shoes in her hands.

“She’s been bouncing ‘round the cabin for the past hour,” Hopper sounded both happy for her and exhausted for himself.

You ushered them in, Hopper heading to the kitchen as you walked Eleven to your room. The both of you passed the boy's rooms, both wearing their pants for the night and a simple tank over their chest. Each gave a wave in greeting to El, her returning the gesture before you pulled her along.

“Okay, just place your dress on the bed and shoes on the floor. I’m gonna do your hair first so we gotta head to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

She giggled every time water would splash back on her or you, in awe at the change caused to her hair, “I’m going for that slicked-back look you had when you came back.”

“Bitchin’.” It’s her new favorite word to show excitement.

With her new hairstyle, and only an hour until everyone needs to leave, you started on the simple makeup she wanted. You knew Hopper might have a fit if he saw her wearing heavy makeup and also you knew she didn’t need full coverage, just some eyeshadow and blush.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” you murmured as you swept the light purple shadow over El’s closed lids.

Her eyes opened and they were shining, filled with joy and love. You wanted to wrap her up and keep her away from all the bad in the world, already having been through so much at a young age. But she was safe now, everyone was safe now, no need to worry about the worst anymore.

Eleven reached her smaller hand for your larger one, pinkie wrapping around yours. You were a bit confused but she flashed a smile and said in her quiet voice, “sisters.”

…

Eleven and Hopper left about thirty minutes ago, wanting to have their own time with each other and giving your family private time as well. Hopper hugged you and whispered a thank you into your messy hair, and you dropped a kiss on El’s forehead. You and Joyce sat in the living room waiting for Jonathan and Will, giving the boys their brother time.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Joyce asked for the third time that night.

“Mom, you’re just gonna drop them off then come home. I’m fine with staying behind.” A hand rested on her knee.

It looked like she was preparing to say something, maybe convince you to just go on the short ride, but was stopped and looked over your shoulder. You followed her eye line and saw Jonathan and Will, both dressed nicely and standing awkwardly.

“Well, don’t you both look handsome.” Joyce beamed at her boys.

“Didn’t know you could clean up,” you teased them, Jonathan just rolled his eyes.

Joyce fused with Will’s sweater vest a bit, pinching and lightly tugging. Making sure his tie was neat and straight, fingers toying with his bowl cut.

“Oh! (Y/n), can you get the camera thing, the one that records.”

“It’s called a video camera, mom. It’s right in the name,” you reminded her as you left the living room.

You kept Bob’s video camera that he gave you to use on Halloween. He trusted you with it and it felt wrong to just bring it to the store or give it away, so this small piece of him is kept in your room on your desk. You made sure it was charged and there was a tape then trudged back to the living room, Joyce and Jonathan swaying to an invisible tune. You immediately started to record, wanting to get evidence of this blissful moment between your family. Once Jonathan got tired, Will stepped in, his arms stretched to reach Joyce’s shoulders, which wasn’t far; there were only a few inches between their heights.

Jonathan started to tug the giant camera from your grasp, “what are yo-”

“Go dance with Will. He could use some practice.” And he rested the viewfinder against his right eye.

You just rolled your eyes but stepped up to the dancing pair. With a quick tap to Will’s shoulder, he turned his head towards you. And wanting to add more to this little display, you rested an arm behind your back with the other stretched before you, waist bent at a small angle.

“William Byers, may I have this dance?”

…

It had been about two hours since everyone left for the dance, you staying behind in your fuzzy pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. A Charlie Brown Christmas was playing on the TV, the volume faint as you threw some cookie dough into the oven and heated some hot chocolate on the stove. You were planning to stay up until everyone came home, school dances usually end around ten or eleven.

There was a sudden knocking against the front door just as you shut the stove off. You tensed at the abrupt noise, not expecting anyone to show up, but also worried it might be someone who’s been on your mind for the past week. You tip-toed to the door, wanting to be as quiet as possible to see if there will be another knock or if the person would just leave.

Another round of knocks made you jump a bit and as you trekked closer you heard the person speak, very faint, “(Y/n)! It’s Steve!”

Your eyes widen involuntarily, feet stopping you just behind the door. Your fingers twisted the sleeves of your hoodie into their tight grasp, you were holding back from opening the door. You knew Steve was gonna eventually talk to you again, you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Maybe another month or two before this confrontation.

“(Y/n), please! I need to talk to you…also, I think I’m getting frostbite.”

Not even a second later you swing the door open, eyes staring him down before ushering him inside the warm home. He was only wearing a red sweater and his Levi’s, ‘he looks so handsome, so cozy’, but you could see the shake of his shoulders, his hands furiously rubbing together as if he was twisting a stick to start a campfire.

“I thought you ran hot, Steve.” You stayed near the door.

He huffed, “I do, but I was out there for five minutes before I knocked.”

You ignored the quick thump of your heart, “why are you here, Steve?”

“You know why.” He took two steps closer.

“Steve…”

“Please,” he reached for your hands, “please, just hear me out. You can throw me out when I’m done, okay? Just…please.” He sounded like a little kid, it broke your heart.

Your fingers squeezed his hand as a physical ‘okay’ before you said the actual word aloud. You pulled Steve with you as you headed back to the kitchen, cookies smelling like they were done and your hot chocolate was slowly cooling already. A turn of the oven knob allowed for the cookies to rest in the dying heat.

“I made some hot chocolate, you want some?” You were stalling.

“Uh, sure, that sounds good.” Steve stood by the small kitchen table.

You had to push up on your toes to reach further into the cupboard, a hand pushed to the counter for extra leverage. As you were getting nowhere and ready to just climb for your mugs, a hand pressed against your lower back, a leg lightly nudging into yours.

“I got it,” his voice was low, and a shiver ran across your body.

You moved out of the way so he could use both hands when he dragged two matching mugs from the back, both covered in a floral print. You made quick work of filling the cups, dropping some marshmallows into yours, none for Steve and topping them with some whipped cream.

“(Y/n)-”

“I heard you drove Dustin to the dance tonight.”

“Yeah- yeah, he’s a… he’s a good kid.” He let a smile peek. You indulged in the sight. 

“Okay, I’m ready.” You sounded like you just told Steve to slap you. And by the look on his face, showed how confused he became.

“What?” “Tell me why you’re here.”

He sat straighter when you clarified the topic change, hand pushing his mug away before twining them together and resting on the table. His fingers rubbed together, specifically his thumbs. His eyes weren’t on you, focused on the table or his hands, anything that wasn’t you it seemed. You understood the need to look away when talking about something like this. He licked his lips and then spoke, just one sentence.

“I like you.”

You wanted to state the obvious, ‘you already told me’ but you settled with a simple, “I- I like you too.” Well, not simple to you, but you felt that Steve needed to hear you say it again after this past month.

He instantly lifted his head, puppy dog eyes pulling you in along with the dazzled smile showing off his dimples. The urge to lunge forward and pull him into your arms grew in strength, so you sipped your drink, eyes away from Steve.

“I know the last time we talked wasn't great. Well, it was great for about two minutes before it went to hell.”

“Steve…” You did also enjoy those two minutes.

“And for good reason, I fully know that. So, I’ve been getting my shit together, your words. I’ve talked with Nancy and told her how I felt about our relationship and how she hurt me as well as how I hurt her. I even talked with Jonathan.”

You raised your brows at that, he didn’t mention anything to you about Steve. Tomorrow you’ll have to question him about it. You nodded for Steve to continue, choosing to leave your input until he was done talking.

“I told him I liked you, wanted to be in a relationship with you. He was against it, completely understanding him, but I made sure to tell him how much you meant to me. I wasn’t- I’m not trying to use you as a rebound or replacement for Nancy.” He moved to the seat beside you, hands reaching for you across the table, but you didn’t take them, not yet.

“Nancy and I had a good time in our relationship, it might’ve been short-lived, but it was nice. She helped me mature and leave King Steve behind, realizing I could be more than a high school douchebag. And when you slowly became a part of my life, I wanted to be the best version of myself. You deserve the best, (Y/n), and I showed you my affections at a low point.” You had to interrupt him, “Steve, just from the past year alone, I’ve seen you grow so much. And every day, I so badly wanted to tell you how much I liked you, wishing I could be with you. But I would see you smiling with Nancy, the two of you whispering in each other's ears, giggling at whatever. Your arm draped over her shoulder, her hand holding yours. It killed me, piece by piece, every time I saw the two of you together. I wanted to walk into the shadows and disappear. But the two of you were my friends, so I stuck it out, and sometimes when it was too much I would cry. And I hated that I was crying over you, I should never cry over a stupid boy.”

“Ouch,” you sent a glare, “sorry, continue.”

“But I wasn’t just crying over you, I was crying cause of the way you looked at Nancy when she wasn’t paying attention, the way you were constantly touching her in some way, the smiles she pulled from you. I was crying 'cause I knew I could never be Nancy Wheeler.”

You were getting a bit choked up, telling Steve these personal things that no one else has heard, only the loud voices screaming in your mind. The voices telling you no one wants you, the yells of your dad screaming at you as a child, spitting in your face about how worthless you are. The snarky comments heard from the hall and during class from students who gossip because they want to make others feel bad to uplift their self-esteem.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s warm hands cupped your cheeks, fingers cradling your jaw.

He moved his chair closer, knees almost touching, “I don’t want you to be Nancy, I like you 'cause you’re (Y/n) Byers. I like how tough you are, how you stick up for your family and don’t take shit from people.” His fingers swiped along your cheeks, “I love how you treat those kids as if they were your own family, how smart you are whether it’s school smart or comic smart, even if I don’t get half the references you make.” A wet chuckle slipped through, “you are the most beautiful girl I’ve had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

“I bet you say that to every girl,” you teased, but he didn’t exactly deny it, only countered with, “but I mean it, every syllable.”

You moved your hands off your lap to circle his wrist, not wanting him to move away. Thumbs rubbing against skin, yours against his wrist and his along your cheeks, wiping any fallen tears. The air felt thick, a tension growing, waiting for the time to come before it snapped. Both of you aired things out, not everything, but it at least helped both of you see where the other was coming from. But you knew that if you were to get in a relationship, there was gonna be more talks like this in the future, and that was something you were okay with.

“I really like you, and I want to show you the love you deserve every single day that we’re together. I want to see the good and the ugly, the beautiful and monstrous sides of you, and I’ll show you mine. I want to kiss your face at every chance I get, I want to wake up next to you when we spend the night together. I want all of you, (Y/n) Byers.”

Your lips were twitching at the corners the whole time Steve was talking, letting each word seep into your skin and brain, wanting to remember this moment. The crease between his brows to the intense look that’s peering into your heart, the feeling of his palm, how the pads of his fingers rub against your skin and peach fuzz. Counting every freckle dotting his face and neck, holding back from kissing every single one in your line of sight. How he’s rubbing his pink lips together, tongue darting out and wetting them like he’s preparing for a kiss.

“Steve,” your hands left his wrist and held his jaw, pulling him in closer to you, “I just wanna be yours. And I want you to be mine.”

You saw the smile, “I’ve been yours since you pushed Sharon Halloway, baby.”

You crushed your lips together, not wanting to wait for another second. It was just a pressing of your lips, finally satisfying the craving you’ve been having for weeks. When Steve tilted his head, it allowed for the kiss to become more, what started as a ruff push became a slow dance between waiting lovers. Your lips getting used to the feeling of each other, learning a new dance that will become muscle memory in due time, tongues toying together. Hands holding the others face close, tight, scared they might vanish into thin air, a dream so realistic that the very scent of Steve’s cologne will linger. Fingers move to thick strands of hair, nails scraping at the scalp pulling a purr from Steve’s throat that you happily drink up.

When you started to feel dizzy, your head going fuzzy, you pulled again. You stayed close, noses touching, breathing mingling, eyelashes kissing. When you leaned further back, wanting to fully take in Steve, he chased you, lips seeking for more, needing more.

“Baby,” the word made your stomach flip.

“Oh, I’m baby now.” You squealed when Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, both of you sharing one chair.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, sloppy kisses lining from where your ear meets your jaw to the edge of your hoodie. With just a tilt you gave him all the access he wanted, hands happily playing in his hair, giving light tugs, ones you’ve been dreaming of.

“Stevie,” you all but sighed, his kisses leaving you even dizzier.

“Oh, I’m Stevie now,” he pulled away to tilt his chin up at you.

A hand tucked some hair behind his ear, the ends curling in, “you can call me all the pet names you want, and I’ll call you Stevie all I want.”

“Might need to negotiate that one.” His eyes squinted.

“Steven.”

“Nope, Stevie is fine. Love Stevie, especially from you.”

You just rolled your eyes at him before going in for seconds, thirds, and fourths. Steve Harrington was finally yours, and you can kiss him freely until the day you die. Now that’s not a bad way to go out.

You were so wrapped up in kissing Steve you didn’t check the time, or even hear the car pulling up outside, not even the front door opening. None of that registered in your lavender-hazed brain, not until a very loud voice caused you to jump away from Steve.

“Mom! (Y/n)’s making out with Steve!”

Will faced you and Steve, both of you flushed and lips kiss bitten. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“I need to bleach my eyes.” Will groaned.

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

taglist: @heartyhope / @preciousbabypeter / @dessxoxsworld / @piper3113 / @animiacorn / @burn1ngw00d / @drxwstxrkxy / @m-rae23 / @noisyeggsmoneystatesman​ / @yournan69​ / @thats-s0-ravenn​ / @ameliabs-world​ / @mayonesavegana​ / @gracella0709​ / @gengen64​ / @alecmores​ / @hehehehannahthings​ / @ladybug0095​ / @sweeter-innocence-fics​ / @j-6o​ / @liberhoe​ / @choclate32 / @stvrdustalexx​ / @redheadedfangirl​ / @agustdeeyaa​ / @yappydoo​ / @voteforevilthoughts​ / @harrysflowercrownrry / @ilovereadingfanfics /

*striked out means tumblr can’t find your username, sorry*