#they are at peace and far from hawkins' mess

[harritudur]

they are together now

[stevesbabysittingservice]

MIDNIGHT LOVE ✨;✩°𓏲⋆💤.*

steve harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] steve didn’t expect to have fallen madly in love with you, much less for his confession to be whispered in the dead of night after another nightmare renders him sleepless. (16+)

Sleeping was a privilege Steve Harrington lost a long time ago.

Finding himself sitting in his kitchen at half past two, his bruised knuckles tap against the marble countertop in time with the faint ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. It’s a steady sound, one that still lingers with an uneasy sense of worry thanks to a man named Henry Creel, but Steve still tries to keep in time to catch his lost breath.

Steve woke up in a sweat, chest heaving and heart racing after yet another collage of gruesome, disturbing images infiltrated his dreams. The sound of your piercing screams, one so loud that it could shatter glass, the amount of crimson pooling at your stomach and seeping through his fingers, the pain rattling in his chest, the light draining from your pretty eyes.

Even now, after being awake and stumbling aimlessly through his expectantly empty home, Steve’s still not really sure how much of it was real. In any other circumstance, Steve would like to say he’s pretty good at handling the aftermath of the catastrophes in his head, but something about this time felt different.

Steve can’t seem to decide what’s worse; the fact that his dream felt so real because, in some way, there was a significant level of truth to it, or because it hurts him that little — a lot — more since he’s almost certain he’s fallen in love with you.

He wasn’t prepared for that. He isn’t prepared for that.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, his voice shot and rugged from what little sleep he managed to get. His hands, ones covered in calluses and surface-level cuts, shake a little as he runs them through his bed-messed hair and down his face. “Fuck.”

Hot and cold flashes shock his body like a lightning strike, goosebumps rising on his uncovered legs and his chest rising with heat beneath his old Hawkins High Phys. Ed sweatshirt. Everything aches. The muscles in his arms and his legs, his head, the gashes and torsions littering his waist.

It’s only been a few days since the world fell apart and got stitched back together and Steve can’t seem to find any peace of mind, can’t even seem to relax for just one, measly second.

The weight of the world crushing his shoulders for the past three years, the physical toll his body has had to endure time and time again, all whilst trying to balance the necessity to protect the people he cherishes like family. It’s a lot to bear at 19. He’s almost certain he’s destined for every good thing in his life to turn to ruins.

“Baby?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Steve swivels on the kitchen stool at the sound of your voice, warm and doe-eyed. The light of his life, the one thing keeping him sane, his version of heaven. Steve was starting to wonder if tonight would be the first time you didn’t notice the absence of his figure beside you in bed.

What a stupid, stupid fool he is to think you wouldn’t notice.

Steve’s features soften at the sight of you, groggy and sleepy and far too adorable for someone who’d have just woken up. Even though he’s bone-deep tired and still a little shaken up from his nightmare, the boy finds himself smiling faintly at your arrival, anyway. You always manage to make him grin, even without trying.

You're in his shirt, like always, the fabric light against your skin and the hem of it stops just short of your hips. Your sleep shorts are barely visible beneath, the only proof of them being the satin ribbon glinting in the moonlight, the once-tied bow now hanging, unravelled, at your thigh.

Like oxidized copper, day-old bruises stain your skin, shades of yellow and moss-green replacing the once burgundy and deep purple splotches that painted your knees. Scabbed cuts in the shape of a Demobat’s jaw litter the expanse of your calf like a fucked up puzzle, and the no-doubt scars waiting to form make Steve feel terrible all over again.

You’re alive, thank God, but that’s yet to be enough to ease the pain of wishing he could’ve done more.

Shades of blue and indigo paint over you like an oceanic kaleidoscope, a capsize of darkness making your cheekbones, your jaw, the muscles on your biceps and your thighs nothing short of a Goddess-like vision. As you further step into the kitchen, your presence alone makes Steve feel like the entire world has been set on fire and glittered sunshine and warmth.

Fuck. He really might be in love with you.

“Hey, baby.” Steve says a little guiltily and his voice is an octave or two lower than normal, almost like he’s afraid that breaking the silence that once accompanied him might ruin the heavenly sight of you.

“Steve, it’s.. it’s two in the morning,” you chide softly, voice a little raspy but Steve can still hear the worry seeping between your words. Your knuckles rub at your eyes, a weak attempt at knocking away the evidence of sleep and waking yourself up simultaneously. “What’re you doing up?”

It’s closer to three than it is two, and Steve’s been up for much longer than that. But he won’t tell you that. Not when he knows it’d get you even more worried.

“Thirsty,” he says, and the word comes out tougher than he meant it to. His throat honestly feels like sandpaper. “Needed a drink, s’all.”

Steve tilts his head towards the cup of water he’d poured that sits on the counter. However, in retrospect, the boy wishes he hadn’t given it much attention at all because the glass he motioned to is obviously untouched, condensation dripping down the sides and there’s a lack of lip or finger marks.

Your eyes flit between the glass and your tired boyfriend, an unconvinced look lacing your features, and it’s not long before you silently tread towards him. Steve knew it was a weak attempt at getting you back to bed. He knew you wouldn’t. Not without him, anyway.

“What’s wrong?”

Your question comes out more of a grumble than anything, but the concern is still there, still genuine. You know him all too well, and Steve was an absolute idiot in thinking he could get away with such a pathetic lie.

It’s like he’s in a hypnotic state whenever you’re with him because Steve isn’t quick enough to come up with another lie. He just watches you in awe. You draw close like a magnetic force, and the boy’s legs part automatically. In all honesty, he’d be a liar to say he didn’t expect that you’d crowd his space sooner rather than later.

Your hands find his in the dark and your fingers run across the bumps of his knuckles. The glitter in your nail polish catches the light peeking in through the window above the sink and it makes it seem like shooting stars are dancing across his bruises.

You’re so tender with him, he’s come to notice. Like he’s an expensive China doll, or a glass fixture hanging from the ceiling. You always stare at him like you're admiring him, too, even when Steve feels exceptionally unattractive, and you always make him like a teenager all over again.

“Bad dream?” you eventually answer the question Steve had forgotten about after a few moments of comfortable silence, mumbling against his temple.

Earlier on in your relationship, Steve felt nothing short of a burden. He’d keep you up at night, come stumbling upon your front door bloodied and bruised and in need of help, and drag you along on adventures you’d have never signed up for if you knew what they’d entail.

But, even amongst the terror, you never complained, not once, and Steve often thanks the God he doesn’t believe in to have found somebody as patient and understanding as you.

So, Steve can’t see a point in lying anymore. Not when you know him so well— not when you’ve seen him at his worst and stayed.

“Yeah,” Steve admits through a shallow breath, his lungs still constricting themselves even after he’d steadied his breathing maybe ten minutes ago. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Much to his delight, you wrap your arms around his shoulders before pressing yourself into him. Steve returns the favor instantaneously, your body still lingering with warmth from his bed as he slides his hands beneath your shirt and around your torso. If he died in this position, he’d die a happy, grateful man.

Steve basks in your company, his eyes closing briefly, and part of him thinks he could fall asleep like this if you’d let him. His face presses against your collarbone and he lets out a faint, satisfied hum when he feels you place a soft kiss on the top of his head. You’re so soft and warm and Steve practically melts against you.

Another kiss from you, a wordless I’m sorry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve barely shakes his head, but it’s enough for you to notice. “Don’t wanna keep you up.” he says.

You pull away, then — not far, but there’s just enough distance between you both that Steve can glance up at you with ease. You give him a look, one he’s become far too familiar with after being with you for so long; eyes soft, but narrowed.

“I’m already awake, Steve,” you dismiss the boy gently, hand moving to card through his dark locks. You push them out of his face, forcing Steve to meet your intense, but kind gaze. “What happened this time?”

In any other circumstance, Steve would persist in his refusal to talk about his nightmares. He knows that any time somebody had asked, it was out of pure concern, which he appreciates, but it’s just hard. Sometimes Steve thinks talking about it might make it more real, more plausible.

Robin, when he’d shown up with dark circles under his eyes at work and she’d nagged him in her Robin-esque way; Eddie, during their weekly smoke sessions at his trailer in a lazy, off-handed way in hopes to come off as carefree as he’s known to be; Nancy, because once upon a time, she knew him better than anybody.

It’s difficult for Steve to open up to them, because, in his mind, they still harbor this idea that he’s the strong knight in shining armor they expect him to be. Admitting that he’s weak, troubled, and unable to move past the shit he’s dealt with in the last few years would break that façade, and Steve isn’t sure he can handle that kind of disappointment.

But you? You’ve seen it all, even despite his trying to conceal it from you out of everyone, and it’s never phased you. His weakness has slipped through the cracks of his porcelain walls, and you still like him, he thinks. He’ll never understand what he did to deserve your kindness.

“We were at the lake again,” Steve starts reluctantly. It honest to God feels like he’s tugging at an open wound. “You got pulled down, and I chased after you, but the bats..” he exhales sharply and he runs a hand through his already distressed hair, a telltale sign that he’s been restless for a while now. “I didn’t get there in time.”

The thought of you not being here with him stings, and it’s the kind of hurt that’s far worse than any real pain he’s ever endured in his life— though, Steve considers the idea of losing you to be as real as pain could possibly be.

In reality, Steve knows your getting gravely injured couldn’t have happened with the way things went at Lover’s Lake. Not when he insisted on diving for the group, not when he refused to let you go down with him, not when he made Eddie swear on his life to keep you safe if things went sideways. It wasn’t foolproof, not by any margin, but it was enough.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still scare him shitless, though.

“I’m sorry, baby.” you say as you press another kiss to his head, but it’s a little longer than the one you’d given him earlier.

“It’s okay,” Steve dismisses, and when your eyes meet again he tries to force a smile. It’s unconvincing, like always, but you don’t further pry about the nightmare, which he’s ultimately grateful for. He doesn’t want to relive it any more than he already has. “It’s just— shit, I don’t know.. annoying. It’s like my brain loves torturing me, or something. Never wants me to get any fuckin’ sleep.”

“They’re just nightmares, you know,” you remind him with a frown, and Steve wonders if you’ll ever get tired of sounding like a broken record. The amount of times you’ve had to piece him back together after he’d woken up a panicked, broken version of himself is probably in the hundreds, thousands. “They aren’t real. Henry can’t trick you anymore.”

He likes that you call him Henry instead of Vecna. It somehow manages to make his mythical, supernatural powers.. smaller than they seem. Like you aren’t scared of him. Steve wishes he has that kind of confidence.

But they are real, in some way or another. There are hints of truth mixed within the already existing storm of terror causing a riot in his head. Because, regardless of the outcome, Steve’s brain consistently morphs his reality into something far more sinister and tragic.

Sometimes he finds himself so deep within the jungle of contorted memories that he can’t decipher whether you're really sleeping beside him or if it’s another one of Vecna’s tricks.

“Feels pretty goddamn real.” he huffs out an exhausted laugh, one so humorless it’s almost as sharp as a knife’s edge. God, he’s exhausted.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize for what feels like the millionth time, and Steve feels guilty you need to fix something you didn’t break. “I wish I could make it better.”

You do. In ways Steve could never replicate. The feeling of your heartbeat rattling against his, the warmth your body provides, the lingering remnants of your floral perfume, the taste of your mint toothpaste against his lips, the sound of your voice and the purity in your laugh; it provides Steve sanctum within a place that hasn’t had any peace or grace in a long, long time.

“We’re okay, you know,” Steve knows you’re not necessarily asking him for an answer, even if it’s framed like a question. “I’m okay, and you’re okay. So are the kids, and Robin, Eddie, Nance.. it’s just your brain’s way of trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Pretty shitty of it to make me relive all that crap.” says Steve, another humorless laugh sneaking past his tongue.

“I know, but they’ll stop eventually,” you murmur, and Steve knows it’s more wishful thinking than anything, but it warms his chest anyway. “It’ll just take time.”

Steve’s grip tightens around your waist and he shudders at the image flashing behind his eyelids. “It’s just scary, y’know?” he breathes out. “Thinkin’ about what.. what could’ve happened because we weren’t careful.”

“We were as careful as we could’ve been, baby,” you tell the boy, and Steve knows that’s somewhat true. It wasn’t like you guys had days to sit and think of the perfect way to defeat an evil, child-murdering guy with tentacles, but it was enough. “You just.. you can’t get stuck on the what-ifs, Steve. It won’t do you any good.”

Steve hums, then, because you’re right, but he doesn’t say much else. He still feels deflated, even in the comfort of your presence.

“Besides,” you start with a little shrug, your body more energized than it had been when you initially found Steve drowning in his own dread. “There are things that are way scarier than what ifs, anyway.”

Yeah, Steve thinks, like how I think I’m falling in love with you.

But instead, the boy exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Mumbling against the material of your — his — shirt, he asks, “Yeah? Like what?”

When living in a shithole like Hawkins, a handful of supernatural things come to mind. The Demogorgon he saved you from in 1983, the Demodogs he was almost eaten by in ‘84, the Russians who almost beat him to a pulp in July of last year, the herd of Demobats you managed to beat up like Sigourney Goddamn Weaver—

“Taxes.” you blurt, and Steve doesn’t even have the chance to register what you’d said before a surprised laugh rumbles from his chest.

Fuck.

Steve's eyes snap up at you, and with wrinkled brows, he manages to half force out, half laugh, “What?”

Fuck.

“Any paperwork, really. Or me trying to cook,” you hum softly, the apples of your cheeks swelling as you let yourself drift back into the countless memories of kitchen mishaps you, and Steve, have shared in this very room. “I mean, you remember how Thanksgiving went. It was a total shitshow.”

One undercooked turkey, a load of burnt potatoes because you forgot to turn the oven down, and pumpkin pie that, oddly enough, had no pumpkin in it. It was a hot mess, really, but it’s probably one of Steve’s fondest memories— even if that's totally and utterly lame to admit.

He’s definitely in love with you.

“That..” Steve’s breath is shaky all of a sudden, and his voice wavers. “Yeah, you trying to cook is pretty scary.”

“Clowns are scary, too,” you add, almost for good measure. Your nose crinkles and Steve feels his chest bloom with heat at the sight of it. “They’re always smiling. It’s.. I mean, what’s scarier than that?”

Steve doesn’t mean to blurt it out, not really, but the compulsion to spill his flourishing feelings for you was far too burdening to ignore. Your hands were twisting in his hair, nails softly scraping at his scalp and you were staring down at him with your God-given smile like he’s a national fucking treasure or something.

If there’s one thing to know about Steve, it’s that he feels a lot. He’s passionate about a lot of things, and a lot of people, and trying to smother and conceal that part of himself only amplifies his emotions until he’s fit to burst. He throws his heart out on the line and lets it teeter like a trapeze artist and hopes that someone, somewhere, is ready and willing to catch it when it falls.

Most of the time it ends in tragedy and heartbreak, but Steve thinks that this time, you could be that someone to pick up the broken pieces with fragile hands and stitch them back together. He really hopes you’re that someone.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your body stills and your features contort into something Steve can’t decipher. You blink once, twice, before quietly muttering, “What?”

For a long, long time, home was just an idea that Steve was never quite able to grasp. A figure of his wildest, incapable dreams. His house, one that only seemed filled because of the old photos on the mantle and from the light bouncing off the chandelier, was never home. Hell— Hawkins as a whole isn’t home, either. Not anymore.

Steve hadn't known that home could be a person. Not until you.

“I think I love you.” Steve repeats, all his attempts at keeping his composure slowly wilting away with every second that passes.

Your gaze flickers across the expanse of his face, eyes soaking in every scar and every mark, every freckle and mole that litters his sun-kissed skin. One of your hands gently moves to cup the side of his face and your thumb slides almost methodically against his cheek, feather-like grazes across a silver scar he’d gained back in July 1985.

Steve can feel the warmth blooming beneath your angelic touch, a match to his body of flames, and barely above a whisper, you ask, “You think?”

His heartbeat begins to ricochet from his chest and into his now trembling fingertips. Steve’s veins feel like they’re pumping with acid, a new wave of anxiousness coursing through him like he’d been burnt from the inside out. It’s painful, in a way, but it’s a good kind of hurt. The kind he never wants to stop feeling.

So it takes Steve a moment, but he eventually shakes his head, his dark brown eyes flitting down at your lips before meeting your gaze again. He can’t help but notice the aquatic pools filling your lash line.

“I know,” Steve corrects himself, his tongue moving to wet his now dry lips. “I know I love you.”

Your breath hitches, then, and if the world hadn’t become a muted track in Steve’s ears, he might’ve missed it. You’re so, so quiet, all of a sudden, and there’s a large part of Steve that can’t help but start panicking because he’s convinced he’s already fucked this up.

“And that’s scary?” you ask him with a crack in your voice, words wobbling.

in a low voice, he admits, “Terrifying.”

Steve’s driven through heartbreak avenue so many times that his heart is probably more scar tissue than muscle, been dealt a bad set of cards after gambling his love away and left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the ghost of his ex-lover clawing at his chest.

He was black and blue most days, the haunting of what he could’ve done better always following him around like a fucked up shadow when he’d finally move on, only for him to just fall back into that same pit of regret he’d become oh so acquainted with.

It sucked, because getting his heart ripped out and stomped on time and time again was worse than any other pain he’s ever experienced in his 20 years of living.

But, what’s so scary, in Steve’s mind, is the fact that he’d do it all over again in a blink of an eye. He would take every punch and every jab, every insult and every ounce of hurt ten times over if he knew it meant that he’d find his way back to you.

Steve isn’t expecting you to say anything, much less do anything, so you can imagine his surprise when your hand is gentle as it cups the side of his face. He can’t help but lean further into your palm, his chocolate brown eyes unable to break away from your glassy ones.

In a soft, almost shaky voice, you tell the boy, “I don’t think you should be scared about that.”

Steve’s heart stops. “You don’t?” he asks, almost unsure because the uncertainty of your answer hangs heavy in the air.

“No. Because I..” you shake your head and lick your lips, too, pretty dream-like eyes darting across his features. And, with a faint, tired smile, you confess, “I love you, too, Steve. More than anything.”

Steve’s heart starts up again, quicker than ever before, because shit, that'd be enough for him.

Then, with unwavering confidence, Steve surges forward and captures you in a hurried kiss. Mouths slotting together in a heavenly disarray, the boy’s hands tighten around your frame and his mind goes entirely blank on everything that isn’t you because you’re his world he’d die orbiting around.

Steve’s kissing you with a level of fervid he didn’t know he had locked within him, and if the two of you were on display, it would seem like he’d been deprived of your admiration entirely. Your hand, the one splayed across his cheek, moves to his jaw and tilts his chin up ever so slightly and you deepen the kiss.

The boy can’t stop himself from trying to pull you impossibly closer, a new wave of determination washing over him as his desire to feel every ounce of you burns hotter. His tongue soothing over the accidental scrape of his teeth, Steve’s hunger only grows when you muffle out a faint moan against his lips.

You’re both panting when you pull away, a soft click sounding at the departure of your lips from Steve’s. Your forehead rests against his and Steve can’t help himself from trying to steal another kiss from you. You pull back, though, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks and Steve forgets entirely about the way the edge of the counter is digging into his spine.

“Can we go back to bed?” you ask him in a faint voice, eyes still closed and your nose bumps against his, your breath shallow against Steve’s face. The boy is left dizzy from your surging kisses, lips still tingling despite the loss of yours, and Steve almost misses the salacious hint in your request.

Almost.

The boy can’t bring himself to speak, but Steve nods, sneaking another kiss from you before he takes your hand in his and leads you back to the safety of his bedroom, socked feet padding against the floor sounding just as loud as the thumping his heart bounces off his ribcage.

And there, between rumbled sheets, Steve proves how much he loves you til the early signs of morning peak through his blinds, slivers of pink and orange rays mixing and painting your features gold.

Gentle kisses and rough hands, crescent moons adding to the constellation of freckles on his back, moans mixing with whispered sweet nothings echoing between his bedroom walls; a faint mantra of I love you, I love you, I love you encompassing you both.

[penny00dreadful]

AO3

Death had visited Hawkins many times in the last few years, far too many times for their liking if they were being honest.

The twisted and unnatural things that had gone on within that small town were against Nature and Death was a part of Nature.

The cycle of the world was just one great big event of Life and Death but there had been so much here.

They remembered coming for Barbara Holland and though it might have seemed unfair, it was her time. Death didn’t take anyone before their time but at the very least they tried to bring her some peace, letting her see the stars one last time from underneath the water of the pool and letting the stars see her right back, twinkling above her as the water held her close.

Bob’s passage was less gentle. Stuck inside where nature couldn’t reach, torn and shredded and in agony, but still, Death tried to make his passing less terrifying, softly caressing his face and enveloping him in their dark wings quickly, not wanting him to be in pain any longer than he needed to be.

The others after that were more difficult.

A great big mess of people in a damp basement who did not deserve to go the way they did, disintegrating into a sludge of bodies, only to be puppeteered by a vile excuse for a human, then killed again. Nature had been forced to twist away from that one.

Death couldn’t do anything for them, no matter how they tried, there were just too many and too quickly, but still they hugged them all close and brought them to their passing.

It was times like those when Death wondered if their quiet, curious fascination with human life was something that was even worth continuing.

Humanity had such a talent for killing each other en masse and Death would be forced to observe, along with the grass and the trees and the clouds and the wind.

But humanity kept pulling their focus back. There was such a capacity for them to love each other too, even though sometimes they were hated for it. 

For the simple act of love.

Death watched as the two boys, children themselves really, though forced to become so much older, parted with a kiss at the Quarry, forced into a clandestine meeting after they had saved the world because of other people’s hate.

The wind tried to push them away, urging them to run, to move faster, to push themselves out of the series of events barrelling towards them but the boys just laughed, brushing hair from each other’s face before leaning in again.

The Quarry echoed up towards them, hoping to spook them into jumping into their own cars and peeling out of there at high speed, but the boys didn’t notice, too wrapped up in each other.

The evening sky watched on in silence, unable to do anything about the incoming storm and the small group gathering on the other side of town, ignorant and fearful and wanting to hurt in return.

Death had visited Eddie Munson before, just once. Not to take him, but to help him hold on. It wasn’t his time to die, no matter what others in the town thought. 

The boy was loud and brash and passionate, bursting at the seams with life and energy and light and Death didn’t want to see that pass unnecessarily. They refused to take him before they were due to.

They had leaned down, brushing a light kiss against his lips and had stepped back as his friends and one boy in particular threw themselves down next to him.

Steve Harrington had received multiple visits from Death over the years. 

Their first meeting had come on the tail end of a vicious beating and a plate over the head. The ground below him had shuddered with the impact and while the children around him screamed and he lay unconscious on the floor, Death had flapped their wings and flared that dying spark of life back up into a flame.

Barely a year later they had gone underground and brushed their fingers through his hair, while a girl spat in another man’s face. They could feel the earth around them try to reach out to support, but being held back by metal walls and a sickening aura from another world.

Then again only a day later while the sky and the sunlight and the pollen could only watch through the windows, Death took his hand, pulling life back into him from his slumped position on the couch he’d been sleeping on, still in his uniform.

The next time was more difficult. Trapped in another world that Death couldn’t reach, if Steve died there, then he’d be there forever. But the boy had just managed to make it back to the other side, cradling Eddie’s body close.

It wasn’t until he stepped back outside the hospital, all of his responsibilities temporarily being watched over by nurses and doctors and he had screamed, harsh and loud and bloody into the night. He collapsed, the dirt below trying to cushion him from hurting himself more than he already had been.

Death had stayed with him until someone found him, keeping him warm in their arms, but never closing their wings, not all the way. 

It wasn’t his time.

They watched as both boys came together, feeling young again, even though they had to hide. But they found happiness in each other, even if others could only look on in confusion or anger, threatened by what they refused to understand.

The group across town began to move, intent on driving him out of town for good this time, believing him to be a stain on their pristine lawns.

It was ridiculous and Death could do nothing to stop it.

They watched as Steve buzzed around his empty home, getting dinner prepared for himself, full of light and love.

When the group arrived, they didn’t announce their presence with a polite knock on the door but with a rock through the window, followed quickly by glass and gasoline and fire.

With the window broken, wind could now enter but it stayed away, not wanting to fan the flames as Steve gripped his bat, slowly and carefully walking back towards his patio door.

There were only six of them, but six against one were still terrible odds, no matter the creatures Steve had fought in the past.

His walkie was out of reach, sitting innocently in the kitchen along with the landline and his dinner burning on the stove, too far out of reach.

There was a scramble of movement as they broke through the windows, through the front door. 

Jason’s parents, Andy Johnson, that dog walker, Steve’s own neighbours and Chrissy Cunningham's younger brother were amongst the crowd and wasn't that the most devastating thing? 

Whipped up into a frenzy of hate and fear at barely twelve years old, by those supposed to look out for him, believing they were teaching him to take care of his town, handing the future to him.

Because of course they chose Steve to hunt.

He was one of them. He should be one of them. He was the one their daughters should be bringing home, the one they should be shaking hands with in church or sharing beers with.

Eddie was already an outsider. He wasn't a reflection of them. He didn't hold a mirror up, showing how much they could change, how far they could fall, how empty all of them were inside.

But these were the people Steve used to associate with. They saw him as more of a blight on the town than any of the other outsiders because he used to be them and if he could fall, then they must be able to too, right?

So they had to tear and scratch and burn to convince themselves that no, he was, is in fact wrong. He had always been that way. He was never right, not like them. No, they could never fall the way he did.

He was a disease and so they had to cut the disease out, had to eradicate any trace in case the infection spread.

As much as everyone pretended the religious fervour had died down, the town had only just gotten a taste.

It had whet their appetite for mob mentality and they were thirsty for more, feeling they were morally full to the brim but were in fact starved of compassion, blind to anything outside of their own comfort.

They claimed to be loving, to be healing, to be all welcoming with plastic smiles and greedy eyes but they would run anyone over who stepped a foot out of line. 

And unfortunately, Steve stepped out of line. He broke the mould and they believed they had to punish him for it.

The patio door crashed open and Steve was running out towards the woods before they could find him, his old home billowing thick black smoke at his back.

Death knew his parents wouldn't care. The insurance pay out from the fire would be more than enough to soften the blow, cosy in their new home in New York City. 

They would never publicly acknowledge what happened here but privately they would thank their neighbours for their crusade.

The grass could feel the thud, thud, thud of fearful running footsteps. Broken twigs and slippery leaves caught him unawares and were apologetic but powerless to do anything about it as shouts full of hate and the frenetic energy of bloodlust followed him into the woods.

The trees that surround them, that had shielded Steve and the chasing group alike whenever they needed it, could feel when he was disarmed and the bat was thrown to the side, the bloodsoaked nails digging into the earth as it fell.

None of them were brave enough to use such a deadly weapon against him, fearing too much the consequences of being the one to pick it up and undoubtedly have the responsibility of killing him, and Steve was not enough of a coward to use the bat against the group.

Strikes landed against the trees, from fists that missed him and from impacts travelling through Steve’s body and into the wood, cracking their bark and flaking it off. The earth soaked up the blood that was spilled heavy and hot but too metallic for nutrition. 

Adrenaline came fast and hard but left just as quickly and when the group looked at what they had done, the haze of anger and righteous indignation no longer thick enough to colour their perception of their actions, they took a step back, each of them sickened somewhere deep inside by what they had done but none of them were bold enough to admit it to the other.

Steve was still full of the need to keep living so he took an opportunity where he saw it, forcing his broken body to run again in a slightly delirious way, making it back to his car. 

The group didn’t follow immediately but it wouldn’t take long for them to realise that Steve knew each and every one of them and that maybe allowing him to get away alive might no longer have been an option.

Death could see Steve peel out of his driveway, his car always at the front of the house and ready to go after years of dealing with the end of the world. 

Across town, Eddie was practising a new piece on his guitar, full of joyful energy and barely able to contain his excitement when he got it right, almost jumping for joy and eager to tell Steve the next time he saw him.

Robin was in her room, pouring over books on cryptography, a fascination for her that began in the back room of an ice-cream parlour and hasn’t left her since. She had come to terms with the fact that this might be what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, but she would have to travel far to be able to study it, unsure of how to bring it up to her soulmate because she wanted him to come with her and to bring along his new love as well.

But still it would be a big change.

A big conversation.

The kids sat in the basement of the Wheeler home, giving Will back his DM seat, just between them. It was an apology for all that they had discounted his passions before, just like Steve had advised them to do and the bond between all of them glowed ever brighter.

The blinking stars watched as the car veered, swaying dangerously at speed from one side of the road to the other.

The crunch of metal and the impact splintered some of the thinner trees, leaves and branches falling onto the scene below, one sputtering headlight pointing out into the forest, a lighthouse in the night.

Somewhere in town a walkie crackled to life.

The skies opened up and the rain did what it could to help, washing the blood away and Death descended.

Steve blinked his eyes open.

“Hello.”

Death was unable to respond for a moment, but eventually replied, “Hello.”

“I’ve seen you before.”

“Too many times.”

Death crouched low, one wing extended over them, to keep the rain off his face.

“Am I coming with you? There’s so much left I need to do.”

Death heard it all before. People begged for more time, offering a card game for their soul, but Death doesn’t trade in souls. That was not their business. 

They would always promise Death other lives, other deaths in place of their own, money, power, glory, kingdoms, countries if they would just let them live a little while longer.

It never worked and Death never bargains.

Their time was their time and nothing on earth would ever be able to change that.

Death was nothing if not fair.

But even so, Steve didn’t beg. He didn’t try to bargain or trick. He was just asking. He wanted to know what to expect.

“No.” They answered. “Not yet.”

Death got down to their knees, hovering over him, close enough to throw him into shadow.

“But eventually?”

They nodded. “Everyone comes with me eventually.”

They lowered themselves down, pressing their lips softly against Steve’s as his eyes slipped closed again. 

“But not you. Not today.”

On the road just behind them, a deer jumped out, bounding across the black expanse, spooked by a branch a nearby tree dropped, sacrificed just in time.

Tires screeched to a halt. 

The wind had been at their back the entire time. 

Birds are sent flapping frantically into the sky as the screams of Steve’s friends and love rip through the air.

Death watched from above as they did everything in their power to get him out, get him to safety.

When he was eventually taken to a larger hospital in the city Steve was watched over at every available second by a slowly revolving door of people who would not leave him, even if Death themselves asked them to.

Steve never stepped foot back in Hawkins again after he crashed just beyond the ‘Now Leaving Hawkins’ sign, but he was not without his people.

The family that Steve had built up around him were merciless in their judgement of the town. Those who were able to, leave immediately. Eddie and Wayne only enter Hawkins again to gather up their most prized of prized possessions, happy to never ever look back on it, no matter what might crawl out of the ground.

Robin and her parents, who had come to see Steve as a second son, followed not long after.

Some of the kids' parents were more ready to leave than others, but eventually they all did, all of them disturbed and terrified and angry.

Every single one of Steve’s family was happy to leave the town to rot without them, there was nothing left for them there anymore.

They all follow him. 

Every single one. 

And he is once again surrounded.

Everyone he had ever helped, ever loved, ever stood in front of them and Death for.

They all surround him and they are all there, many, many years later when Death comes for him for the last time. His family was waiting on either side of the veil for him, old and grey and wrinkled.

But they were all there for him. 

AO3

Based off of Take Me To Church

All my love to @hbyrde36, my friend and beta for screaming with me over this.

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild Hozier Project

Gonna tag @griefabyss69 and @starryeyedjanai who sent in asks about this fic for a previous WIP Weekend post. 🖤

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 6

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 10/04

Word Count: 5.8K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5

You dropped your head into your hands, sitting at your desk in your classroom. You'd just dismissed the kids after having felt like the end would never come. The day had been so long and you were exhausted but you just needed a moment of solitude and quiet before you headed home. You needed just a minute of peace before you trekked out on your bike amid all the chaos of people and vehicles in their hectic scramble to get home after work. 

It had been one of those days where everything that could go wrong just did. Johnny would not stop talking all day. Maddie called him annoying during writing time when she was trying to focus so he threw his pencil at her which missed its mark and hit Brodie. Brodie in turn threw an eraser at Johnny and then they were yelling at each other across the room. You'd had to calm the situation down, speaking to both boys about using their kind words and soft voices, but the chaos hadn’t ended there. 

Gracie skinned her knee at recess and was a dramatic mess, acting as if she’d just suffered a horrible trauma. She insisted that she couldn’t walk so you had to carry her into the nurse and the girl was not exactly small. Gracie was one of the tallest kids in your room. You were surprised your back had handled it as well as it did. Hauling around a third grader was quite different from a first grader.

Lance had been picking on Charlie again, this time about his long hair. The boy had hidden behind a tree to try to keep his tears from view of the others. You had spoken to Lance about how his words made Charlie feel but that kid was difficult to reach. No matter what you tried, he didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with his behavior. Quite the opposite actually. He often looked proud of himself. Unfortunately, you had a feeling that was coming from home. His dad was quite the piece of work who also never saw anything wrong with his son being mean no matter how many times you'd called him or asked to speak to him after school. 

You'd dropped a piece of lettuce from your salad on your favorite shirt during lunch and now there was a bright orange stain from the salad dressing. A bee had gotten into the class in the afternoon, creating absolute pandemonium as all the kids screamed and ran to the far corner of the room, swatting and jumping. In the midst of you racing around, trying to catch the bee so you could release it outside, your principal had walked in to have you sign some paperwork, observing your completely out of control class. He’d simply raised his eyebrows at you as you tried to explain about the stinging insect that had sent your class into a panic.

You could not wait to go home, put on your sweats, pour a glass of wine, and curl up on the couch. You grabbed your bag, stuffing the paragraphs the class had been working on for the last two weeks inside to grade later while watching some mind-numbing thing on television that wouldn’t require too much of your focus. Heading out of the room, you locked the classroom door behind you, taking a deep breath, reminding yourself that you had a whole blissful evening of nothing ahead of you before you had to do it all over again. 

“Rough day?” asked your colleague, Leslie as she locked her own classroom door that was right next to yours. 

The woman had been a godsend when you'd started at Hawkins, helping you navigate third grade, something you hadn’t taught yet. You had been nervous taking on a grade level you didn’t know, in a building where you didn’t know anybody, but Leslie had stepped right up, offering you assistance as a teacher as well as a friend. 

“Is it that obvious?” you laughed, hefting your bag up higher on your shoulder. 

“Oh, I know that look on your face very well. I think every teacher knows that look well because we’ve all looked like that,” Leslie answered, walking alongside you as the two of you headed out the side door to the parking lot. “You look like a glass of wine and possibly a nice, long bubble bath is in your very near future.”

“Something like that.”

“You do what you have to. Self-care is so important in this job if you don’t want to burn out. Have a good night. Tomorrow’s a new day!” Leslie called with as much positivity as she could muster and a wave over her shoulder as she headed for her car. 

“You too!” you called back. 

You walked around the side of the building, toward the bike rack, pulling up short when you saw someone leaning against the rack casually, looking as if he were waiting for you. It was the last person you expected to see, the last person to show up at your work. But he had no other reason to be here, no reason to be hanging around an elementary school that you knew of. He didn’t have any kids, right? Someone would have mentioned that at some point, especially when they found out you taught at the school.

You paused about eight feet away from him, your hands clutching your backpack straps, instantly on the defensive, wary of his intentions. “Are you lost or something?”

Eddie’s tongue slipped out, running over his bottom lip. He looked at you with a wry smile, his eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners but his expression otherwise revealing nothing. It was as if he were trying to hide the fact that he was amused by you right now. Heaven forbid he actually let someone see him being anything other than surly. You really wanted to know what had caused this man to be so guarded.

“I don’t think so,” Eddie replied, pointing over to the school building. “It says Hawkins Elementary on the front of the building. That’s where you work, right?”

“Yeah, it is but that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

Eddie’s hands slid into his front pockets as he pushed off of the bike rack, standing straight. His eyes moved down toward the ground and he kicked at the pavement with the toe of his Reebok. He looked back up at you, opening his mouth and then closing it, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. 

You stood silent, confused but unwilling to utter a word. You would not be the first to break the quiet. He was the one who had come here and he could explain why. You had no intention of making this situation any easier for him. He certainly hadn’t worried about making anything easier for you.  

You were completely flummoxed, growing more and more so with each new interaction with him. Only a couple encounters and your head was swimming with thoughts, too many thoughts of him, none of them making any sense. Everything was a jumbled mess of questions and half-answers that you could not string together to make a coherent picture of what Eddie was doing here or what the hell he wanted from you. 

“So, a little birdie may have told me that you’re in need of a car,” he finally explained, one of his hands slipping from his pocket to rub the back of his neck. “I may have something for you. Well…I mean, my uncle might have something for you. I mean, if you wanted it.”

Stunned, you shook your head, “I’m sorry. You came here because you found me a car?”

“Uh…yeah…that’s what I said, isn’t it?” asked Eddie, his expression filled with annoyance as if you were incredibly stupid and should understand why the guy who couldn’t seem to stand the sight of you was suddenly waiting for you at work, telling you he found you a car. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you try to find me a car?” you demanded, tilting your head, the pieces of this puzzle just refusing to fit together. Jesus, this man was exasperating. 

“Because you needed one, obviously. And I didn’t exactly try. When I heard you needed one, it made me think about my uncle selling his car,” he snorted, again looking like you were stupid for not getting this very complicated gesture. “Look, if you don’t want the car, that’s fine. I was just trying to be nice.”

“Since when?” you shrieked.

Eddie spluttered in offense, his head shaking. “What do you mean? I can be nice. I was nice last night when I said I would lay off you with all the comments and then I did.”

“Yeah, until you got all shitty with me again and then just took off.”

“I had to take off. I told you I had to work early this morning and I was not being shitty. Excuse me if I didn’t want to watch some stupid ass movie with everybody. I didn’t think you’d care if I stayed or not. You looked plenty cozy on the couch all cuddled up next to Harrington. Why? Did you miss me?”

His head tilted, a teasing smile playing at his mouth as his lips pouted together in the corner. You fought the urge to slap it right off his face. So, not only was he rude, he was also egocentric. He must really think himself some kind of ladies man, probably got all kinds of girls playing in a band. Well, you were not one of those girls. You were not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing what kind of effect he had on you.

“Ugh, you wish. I barely know you and what I do know I am not a big fan of. I don’t even like you so why would I miss you?”

“You tell me, Prom Queen. You’re the one who’s got her panties in a wad because I left.”

Every single feature on your face twisted into a grimace of disgust. You looked as if you had just eaten something horrible and was about to vomit. Every inch of your body language was filled with repulsion, not caring whether Eddie saw it or not. In fact, you wanted him to see how disgusted he made you. You were so beyond done with him and all of his bullshit.

“Don’t flatter yourself by thinking you had any effect on my panties or anything else. You are such a prick,” you scoffed, pushing your arm against him in an attempt to get him away from your bike. He didn’t budge but simply crossed his arms, looking entertained as he watched you struggle. You growled in frustration. “Would you move out of the damn way so I can get my bike and go home?”

“Someone’s got an attitude today,” he snorted, still not moving.

“Yes, I do! I have had a shit day and you have somehow managed to make it even worse! All I want to do is go home, put on some comfy clothes, and have a glass of wine so if you don’t mind, get out of my goddamn way already!” 

“What about the car?”

“I don’t want your fucking car, Eddie. In fact, I don’t want anything from you. I don’t even know why you came here when you obviously hate me.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, his arms dropping to his sides, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would have said he looked wounded. But you did know better and that couldn’t be the case. He couldn’t stand you. He’d made that perfectly clear over the last couple of days so why would he care at all what you said? The tendon in his jaw tightened for a moment and then he cleared his throat.

“I don’t hate you,” he said softly, so softly that you almost didn’t hear him. He began pressing his thumbnail into his other thumb, pushing back the cuticle as if he were nervous. “I don’t even know you. How can I hate you?”

“Well, I’ve been wondering the same thing but somehow you’ve managed because it’s glaringly obvious you don’t like me very much. I thought maybe we’d come to some place of at least tolerance last night but then you left like you couldn’t wait to get away from me. What the hell else am I supposed to think?”

His eyes slipped closed, hand covering his mouth, running down over his jaw, the jawline that had monopolized your thoughts for the past couple of days. The jawline that curved down to that neck. You hadn’t even known you had a thing for necks. It was just a neck, something that was required to attach your head to your body. You'd never given them much thought until he came along and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it, the way that tendon along the side bulged when he was frustrated or annoyed, that Adam’s apple that bobbed when he swallowed hard, that dip just above the neckline of his shirt that you'd dreamed of pressing your mouth against…

Jesus Christ! You were doing it again. You shook your head in frustration, trying to rattle out these thoughts you didn’t want to be having. You needed to get the hell away from him. You definitely needed therapy or a self-help book at least. How to avoid toxic men. 

“Look, just step away from my bike so I can go home and you can leave. We’ll both be much happier then.”

“Would you?” he asked, eyes opening, piercing you like a knife to the chest. Those eyes that were deep and rich like that perfect piece of chocolate that melted on your tongue, eyes you could easily get lost in for hours, if only he would let you. 

“Would…huh?” you asked, your mind struggling to process anything as he held your gaze, almost imploring you.

“Would you be happy to get away from me?”

“I…what? That’s not what I meant. You’re the one who…” You released a massive groan of irritation, your fingers curling into claws, hands in front of you. “You are so damn frustrating! I have never known anyone as frustrating as you!”

Eddie laughed, the sound rolling around you like thunder, shocking you. It was that laugh, that genuine laugh you'd heard one time and wished you could hear every day for the rest of forever. You felt a deep desire to be the reason he laughed like that all the time. It felt like something special, something that didn’t happen all the time. It was as if nothing else mattered in the world as much as that laugh. It made your heart feel light, it made your soul sing, and you were left flabbergasted once again as to why this man affected you so deeply, why you cared so much about his moments of joy, as fleeting as they seemed.

“Why is that so funny?” you demanded, coming back to your senses, remembering that you were supposed to be annoyed at him. 

“Because, sweetheart, you are not the first person and you certainly won’t be the last to feel that way.” He held his arms out in supplication. “Come on. You need a car, right? Just let me show you the car. What do you have to lose? It’s a couple hours of your time. If you don’t want it, then fine.”

“Look, I don’t have a lot of money for a car. I’ve been saving but I can’t afford much,” you admitted, embarrassed to have to speak the words out loud, hating that even after your ex had dicked you over, he just continued doing so, leaving you with nothing. “I…I’m not exactly flush with cash at the moment.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. You don’t need a lot of money for this car,” Eddie assured, those plush lips puckering, one shoulder lifting. “It’s nothing fancy but it will get you where you need to be. It’s lasted my uncle for a long time. So, what do you say? A couple hours tolerating each other and maybe you get a ride out of the deal.”

Your mind flashed to exactly what kind of ride you wanted from him, your cheeks blazing with heat as the image burned against the backs of your eyes. You averted your eyes quickly, hoping he didn’t catch your embarrassment, sure you were as red as a tomato ripe for picking. The thought of being alone in a car with him was not helping you lock down those thoughts you didn’t want to be having anymore. But you did need a car. 

“Alright, fine. I suppose I can stomach a couple hours with you as long as you’re playing nice. But my bike…”

“I’ll take it along,” he said, grabbing the handlebars and immediately wheeling it toward his van. You stood still, watching him, just as confused as you had been when you first spotted him, maybe more so. He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Your cheeks puffed wide as you blew an anxious breath out and hurried off behind him, wondering what the hell you were getting yourself into. You had to be a glutton for punishment. There was no way this was a good idea but you did need a car, a cheap car, and if he had one then you should at least go look. 

For the second time in three days, you found herself in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, not wanting to be here anymore this time than the last. This man made you feel like you were riding the Gravitron at the fair, so dizzy that you had no idea which way was up and which was down. You still had no logical answer for why he was trying to help you when he’d given you the impression that hanging out with you was the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe he didn’t actually hate you but he didn’t act like he was eager to get to know you either.

As ‘One’ by Metallica came on, Eddie’s fingers found the volume knob, twisting it even higher than it had been before, the sound completely filling the space, swallowing any chance of conversation. With each head bang of Eddie’s brown mane, the van began to rattle. The drums vibrated your seat, his thumbs pounding against the steering wheel in time with the rhythm. As Kirk Hammett’s guitar solo hit, it felt as if the van would tear itself apart. 

You watched him, transfixed, a metalhead and his music, the rest of the world simply ceasing to exist inside this metal sanctuary on wheels. You couldn’t keep from smiling, feeling like this kind of moment might be fairly rare for him, like music was his therapy, his escape from whatever dark shit he had in his past. It was nice to see him at ease after you'd experienced nothing but tension and anger from him.

“You like Metallica?” 

You jumped, his voice startling you, as he turned the volume back down to, not exactly conversation level, but not eardrum shattering level anymore. He was looking at you with undisguised surprise, his eyebrows racing toward his hairline. Shit. Had he noticed how you'd been staring at him like some lovesick teenager? You quickly became interested in the thread hanging from the sleeve of your shirt, praying that you weren't as red as you felt. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged in an attempt to play it cool. “I mean ‘Justice for All’ was a kickass album and Kirk Hammett’s guitar solo on ‘One’ is pretty damn epic. But honestly, nothing will top ‘Master of Puppets’ for me. That whole album is a goddamn masterpiece.”

His face was the picture of absolute disbelief, “Well, well, well, you are just full of surprises, aren’t you? You mean to tell me that you, the former Prom Queen, third grade teacher in her cute little sweaters and jumpers, likes metal music?”

“You know, you really need to stop making snap judgments based on how people look,” you reminded him with a small smile. “I just happen to appreciate talent when I see it or hear it and you can’t deny Metallica’s talent. Why is it so surprising to you that I would enjoy this if you obviously do?”

“I just didn’t see you as the type of girl who would want her music all loud and aggressive,” Eddie explained, a wry smile playing over his lips. “I saw you as more of a Mariah Carey type of girl. You know, safe and sweet, the type of stuff you’d slow dance to with someone you love or bop around to with your girlfriends at the club. You know, mainstream shit, what everyone else listens to.”

“I do like Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson. They’re all extremely talented artists. But I also love Metallica, AC/DC, Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Dio. I also love The Beastie Boys, Green Day,  The Smashing Pumpkins, and Jane’s Addiction. I happen to also love Aaliyah, TLC, Lauryn Hill, and Tupac. My taste in music is endless. I listen to just about everything.”

“Damn…well, okay,” Eddie nodded, impressed, and then his nose scrunched up as if he smelled something bad. “Country?”

“Not so much but I do like Garth Brooks and Reba McIntyre,” you told him. “Does that negate all my other musical choices? Is that the line for you? Country music?”

“Nah, not really. My uncle listened to a lot of old country so I know some Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings…that kind of shit. He’s also a Garth Brooks fan and listen, you ever tell anyone and I will deny that shit, but he’s not so bad. It’s nothing I would ever choose to listen to but at least it doesn’t make my ears want to bleed. But Jesus, it’s depressing shit. Someone’s always losing their wife or their dog or their money.”

You laughed, pleasantly surprised at the turn this conversation had taken, the ease with which you were chatting about music. You weren't sure what had happened since last night but you were glad for it. And no, this was not because you were attracted to him, whatever the hell that was about. Obviously not. If you were going to be friends with his group of friends, then it would be nice if you could at least get along. Yeah, that’s all it was. You didn’t need to be besties but the ability to carry on a civilized conversation was necessary at least. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” you teased, bringing your finger up, making a cross over your chest. You were silent for a moment, Eddie’s eyes focused on the windshield but you didn’t want to go back to stilted silence so you wracked your brain for another topic of conversation that seemed safe. “So, uh…last night when we were talking about books, you seemed like you wanted to say something before Steve did his awful Inigo Montoya impression.”

That muscle in his jaw jumped again, his teeth clenched for a moment, his knuckles whitening as they gripped the steering wheel. You thought maybe you had picked the wrong topic, one that wasn’t safe after all. Books seemed innocent enough but apparently they made him angry for some reason. But Eddie inhaled through his nose and his jaw relaxed, his hands loosening, the sun catching those rings and sending pinpricks of light dancing across the ceiling of the van. 

“Did I…I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” you asked hesitantly. 

“No,” he breezed as if he wasn’t wound tighter than a clock just a moment ago. “No. It was nothing, really. You mentioned Lord of the Rings and those are, like, my favorite books of all time. It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“I seem to keep surprising you,” you mused, unsure how you felt about how satisfied that made you feel. 

It was a subtle movement, barely an upturn at the corner of his mouth, but it was there. A small smile, a smile you'd caused and a million butterflies erupted in your stomach at once, swarming and swirling, making it suddenly hard to breathe. That small smile was positively radiant, filling your heart with joy at the thought that you could make that happen. Something about him stirred up a strong desire within you to make him happy, to chase away those dark clouds that hovered above him all the time.

“Yeah, you certainly seem to be,” Eddie admitted, turning as a sign for ‘Forest Hills’ trailer park came into view. 

There was a certain charm to this trailer park, despite the fact that a lot of the trailers were run-down and looked like they were in need of some work. The closeness of the homes gave it a uniquely cozy feeling. Eddie pulled up to a trailer that was in a small row of them that all looked newer than the rest, the paint fresher, no signs of the weathered look some of the others had. It was like half the trailer park had been built years after the other half. A small red Honda sat to the side of the trailer with a For Sale sign in the window. A big silver pick-up truck sat next to it. 

“Here we are,” Eddie announced flatly, his face suddenly hard, almost as if he were daring you to say anything negative. “Home sweet home. This is where I grew up.”

“You lived with your uncle when you were growing up?” you asked, feeling it was a fairly innocent question but obviously not as his eyes darkened, jaw clenched once again. 

“Yeah. I did. I was the kid whose parents were deadbeats who couldn’t be bothered with him so his uncle took pity on him and took him in. The trailer park trash that the whole town thought was a freak,” he muttered, pushing his door open and stepping out. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

You sighed, a deep sigh of defeat, a noise of irritation because here you were again. His hackles were up, his defenses in place, all ease of conversation gone. You'd thought you'd, if not broken through, at least chiseled a little crack but just like that he’d sealed it off. You had no idea what you'd done yet again. Eddie was a damn minefield and you kept stepping in the wrong places, setting off little explosions. 

You got out of the van, slamming the door behind you a bit harder than was necessary, earning an annoyed look from Eddie. Whatever. You'd already offended him, obviously, so what was one more?

The door of the trailer opened, an older man with a weathered face stepping out onto the porch. He held a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, a smile that was even brighter than the light that was blinding him appeared on his face when he spotted Eddie. The lines on his face deepened in delight as he came down off the porch and pulled his nephew into a bone-crushing hug.

“Eds, what are you doing here? I didn’t think I was going to see you again until Wednesday dinner. Not that I’m complaining, kid.” He pulled back, suddenly noticing you standing there quietly, your hands clasped in front of you, feeling like an intruder, an unwelcome party crasher once again. “And who is this pretty little thing?” 

His uncle grinned, his eyes going from you to Eddie, a glint of hopefulness in them. Your stomach curdled at the sight, knowing this would probably only make things worse for you. Was he hoping Eddie was bringing a girl home to meet him? Because you hated to burst his bubble but nothing could be further from the truth and it would probably only piss Eddie off more and it would be your fault somehow.

“This is Y/N,” Eddie said dismissively, his hand flapping lazily in your direction as if you were just a book sitting on a shelf. “This is my Uncle Wayne.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure young lady,” the older man said warmly, extending his hand, so opposite from his stiff, cold nephew. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you around town before.”

“That's because you haven't,” you explained. “I just moved here a few months ago, actually.”

“Oh, well it’s nice to see a fresh face around this place, especially such a pretty one.”

Your cheeks blazed at his complement, “Thank you.”

“Ease up there, old man. She’s a bit young for you,” Eddie teased, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, you stop it. Anyone with eyes could see how lovely she is. You spending time with my Eds, here?” he asked, hands tucking into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels eagerly. “It’s about time he got himself a girl. I’ve been on this boy to start dating but he’s so damn stubborn and…”

“Whoa, you got it all wrong,” Eddie insisted, shaking his head emphatically. “It’s not like that. She’s just here to see the car.” He nodded his head toward the Honda. “All she’s got is a bike right now. She needs something cheap but she needs some wheels so she’s not walking to work when winter hits.”

Wayne’s face scrunched up, unsure, “Oh sweetheart, I mean it is cheap but it needs some work. That old girl has lasted me thirteen years. I would get the work done myself but I don’t need it anymore. I’m only selling it because I could finally afford the truck I’ve always wanted.”

“How much work?” you asked carefully, looking over the car. The red paint was faded, rust around the wheel wells and the door frames, but it didn’t look like it was in the worst shape ever. Of course, you didn’t know a lot about cars but depending on the cost of the car, it might be worth it to buy it and get it fixed up. 

“Well, the head gasket could be replaced and the oil pan needs sealing. You see that dark spot under there? The oil is leaking. It could use some new tires, possibly a new battery. That’s why I’m selling it for so cheap.”

“How cheap?” You really weren't sure why you were asking. You had no idea how much all that work would cost you so you had no way of knowing if this car was in your budget or not. 

“I’m selling it for eight hundred bucks. I mean, it’s a steal if you know how to work on cars but if you’re taking it to a shop, they’re probably going to charge you a pretty penny with labor,” Wayne explained. “Eddie’s friend, Mike, works at the local dealership, sweetheart. Maybe you should go talk to him and see if you can find yourself a nice little used car that doesn’t need all this work.”

“Oh, okay,” you replied, instantly trusting him. You had no idea why but he had such an honest face and a kind smile. How had Eddie been raised by this sweet, warm man and turned into such a jerk?

Eight hundred dollars would be a dream number but not if you had to sink another couple thousand in repairs. You only had a couple thousand for a car period. You weren't picky. You weren't looking for anything fancy. Beggars couldn’t be choosers but you did need it to run. There was no point in forking over money for a car for it to sit in your driveway when you couldn’t pay to fix it.

“Thanks for being honest with me. Maybe I’ll give El a call and see if I can meet with him sometime this week,” you shrugged.

“She’ll take the car,” Eddie stated. 

“Now, son, you know any mechanic will take one look at her and take advantage. They’ll charge her more than they should just because they can. I don’t want to see this sweet girl get in over her head.”

“She won’t. Are you forgetting who always fixed up this car for you, old man?” Eddie asked, pointing to himself. “She happens to know a certified mechanic.” He turned to you. “Look, I’ll do the labor for free if you buy the parts I need. And I’ve got tires for this thing so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You found herself once again suspicious of his intentions. This man was giving you serious whiplash. Why would he offer to give up his time, for free, to help fix a car for you? Wayne snickered softly, shaking his head as he looked down at the ground. Was there some kind of joke you werent in on? 

“And why exactly would you do that?” you asked.

“Jesus Christ. I’m just being nice,” Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“For now? And what? Next week I’m left with a car that won’t run because I somehow pissed you off, you’re being a jerk again, and you don’t want to help me anymore?”

“Look, I’m trying to do you a favor, Prom Queen. You don’t want a car that is going to be in perfect shape when I’m done with it and way under your budget, then that’s your choice.” He folded his arms, staring you down, as if you were the unreasonable one in this…whatever the hell this was. 

Your eyes narrowed. You might be the dumbest person on the planet for agreeing to this but you really did need a car. Walking to work in January and February on days when the weather didn’t allow you to use your bike had been awful. Your teeth had been chattering, fingers frozen, nose bright red by the time you got to school. You'd spend ten minutes shivering under your winter coat at your desk before you were warm enough to remove it. You could not go through another winter of that. 

“Fine,” you muttered, knowing you would probably live to regret this. “I guess I’ll take the car.”

“Well, alright then,” Wayne chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “Looks like you got yourself a car and a good mechanic to go with it. Let’s get this all sorted and I’ll get you the keys, honey.”

Eddie smiled smugly, clearly feeling like he’d won, though what he thought he’d won was a mystery to you. He was giving up his free time to fix a car for someone he barely knew, someone he didn’t even seem to enjoy being around. You groaned, only imagining how badly this could go as you followed the two men into the trailer.

Chapter 7

Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @strangerfreak @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Current WIPs: Feb 2024

Active WIPs with most recent updates posted in the past month featuring time travel, road trips, fake dating and some rare pairs. Happy reading!

✨ Be sure to show the authors some love and appreciation with kudos and comments on the fics you enjoyed!

*Authors: if your tumblr (or other socials) isn’t linked, and you'd like it to be, let me know and I'll be happy to add it. Or, if you are linked, and you'd rather not be, please contact me and I will remove it.

✍️ A Disaster, Beyond Measure by drabbleswabbles* [NR, 1K, 1/?] Hawkins Fuller is a campaign manager with a PR disaster on his hands. The solution involves pretending to date none other than Timothy Laughlin.

Featuring: unrealistic portrayals of the life and job of a campaign manager for the sake of the fake dating trope.

✍️ Manhattan by @morulezopelforever | OpelForever  [E, 17K, 17/?] This story is based on Tim's brief romance with Father Gallagher when he was still a student at a Jesuit university in New York, a few years before he met Hawk in Washington. I believe that this little tale of a lost first love broke down any boundary that might have stopped Hawk from starting a courtship with Tim.

Part 1 of The Violet and the Rose

✍️ Too old to play (and too young to mess around) by @bejeweledmp3 | ninav [M, 15K, 2/5] Kimberly Fuller goes on a two-week vacation to San Francisco, in which she: drinks excessive amounts of tea, gets betrayed, cries more than she should, eats donuts, and seeks out truth with the help of a man she only knows from a presentation card; not necessarily in that order. But mostly, she finds her father in every least expected place. And learns to make her peace with what that means.

✍️ I Sing the Body Electric by telescape8* [M, 17K, 7/?] Modern AU. It all starts on Election Night 2016. Tim falls hard. Hawk falls harder.

✍️ Sands of Time (Turn Backwards) by @brouill3r | brouiller [NR, 10K, 4/?] 1987 Hawkins Fuller is full of regrets for the life he's lived, though Tim once told him he regrets nothing. Hawk so wishes he could say the same. In the still night air of a hotel room, clutching a cracked paperweight to his chest like it's carved of the finest gold, Hawk gets his wish. Or, a time-travel fix-it fic that nobody asked for.

✍️ What Happens in Washington by Adidastommo* [E, 7K, 4/?] Hawk knew better than to begin an affair with someone who worked with him, let alone someone who worked for him. It was beyond risky. But, when the recent college graduate Tim Laughlin begins working as his assistant, Hawk starts to challenge his better judgment.

✍️ Sempiternal by winstarkasm* [NR, 7K, 5/20] Sempiternal : eternal and unchanging; everlasting “I will find you, openly choose you, love you without conditions, and be the person you deserve.” - Hawkins Zebadiah Fuller

✍️ We’ll be on the road like jack kerouac  by @jesterlesbian | captainquint [M, 2K, 1/5] He tried to think of what Tim would do or say. The man who had only spoken to his son a handful of times over one weekend in 1968, but had seemed to understand him far better than Hawk ever had. The business card felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. An idea burst to life in Hawk’s mind. This was an emergency if he’d ever seen one. “What would you say to coming with me to San Francisco?”

Or, Hawk and Jackson go on a cross-country road trip to San Francisco.

✍️ Beautiful Things by @carrotcakecrumble | LuxLox [M, 1K, 1/4] -- I turn away from the radio I’d just been tuning, there’s a crackle and pop on the wave, but Miller’s ‘Over the rainbow’ is just about spattering through in tune. Kenny says something about how he loves this one. It could be the first time he’s hearing it, for all I know. He falls in love with everything. – A multi-chapter fic following a young Hawk and Kenny throughout their relationship, from beginning to end.

✍️ Send Back the World by Anonymous [NR, 2K, 1/?] There is nothing so bitter as regret. And nothing so sweet as a second chance.

Or, Hawk gets yet another chance to fuck it up again.

[caxde]

roses and dandelions | steve harrington x reader -part 2-

summary you're Hopper's daughter as soon as you could you moved far from Hawkins, some years later you come back to teach at the High School, and you find Steve Harrington has become the new History teacher.

THIS IS PART TWO! you don't need to read part 1 but... just know, stablished realtionship on this one <3

word count: 4.6k

warnings fem!reader, fluff (like a lot of it), comfort, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn bestfriends to lovers, idiots in love!!!. smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, idk if im leaving anything out, please let me know!) teacher!steve AU!!!!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!!

It was truly blissful.

Somehow, it felt like it was always supposed to happen, but then again, you were getting ahead of yourself. Sure, having your hopes up was unavoidable, but regardless, you didn’t care at all. Being tangled in between his sheets felt warmer somehow, feeling intoxicated by his cologne which was everywhere, on the pillow, on his clothes that he let you borrow, and in his hair. You smelled him every time you closed your eyes, and it made you smile, knowing that even if he wasn’t here, he was with you regardless. 

On days like this, when you only had one class late on the day, he left early, and let you sleep. And he did the same thing every time, even if you were unaware of it. He would wake up slowly, trying his hardest to not wake you up. Though you did hear his morning showers muted by the wall that separated his bedroom, you could still make out what song he decided to sing that morning, even when you were deep in your sleep, his voice always found a way to infiltrate your dreams somehow. When he came back to the room, hair still wet, he’d dress himself up, all the while looking down at your figure, soft skin peeking out of the blankets and sheets, he’d left a soft kiss on your shoulder, or cheek or whatever he could do so without interrupting you. He loved seeing you there, peaceful, asleep, untroubled. He’d  smile as he left the room, happily humming the tune he had sung before as he went to get his morning coffee before he finally left.

Lazily you left the bed, pulling the sheets up in an intention of making the bed look nicer somehow. Your hair still tangled from last night, you brushed it out in front of the bathroom mirror.  Flashbacks of last night's activities rushing through you as you looked at your body, your heart racing as you scrubbed it over with soap and hot water, as you hum a pretty melody in the shower. 

Your wet hair wrapped in a towel, you dress yourself up not really thinking about it, enjoy the slow start of the day, and smile to yourself as you see the coffee pot full with a little post-it note “I’ll see you in a couple hours, it should still be hot when you wake up. S”

-

“Miss H?” an unsure voice spoke up, interrupting the five minutes of quiet you managed to have. 

“Yes?”

“Can you come over? I fuc… I messed up.” The little boy corrects himself once he sees your brow furrowing for a second. You nod as you leave your table, standing beside him. 

“What’s up?” You say as you look down at his painting, splotches of colour on the table and his hands. 

“I uh… huh.” He chuckles as he points at the mudded area. “I don’t know how that happened.” A sense of calmness emanating from you, making his shoulder relax in an instant. 

“Ah” You let out. “That’s an easy fix.” You reassure him, hand leaving his shoulder as you reach for the end of your shirt, whipping some of the paint away, his lips opening in shock. “Trust me…” You remind him, as you smile. “I’m the teacher, remember?” He nods as he stays there, watching closely. “So, in the future, if you want a bright colour, respect the value of the canvas, and don’t abuse the white paint, okay? That’s what made it look all so… Um…” 

“Fucked up?” He mutters as his shoulders shrug, you eye him trying to hide a laugh. 

“Language.” 

“Sorry.” 

“But yeah, that.” You fix the area fast, happy to do so, and with an excited stare following your movements closely. “You know, if you don’t wanna go the realism route, you don’t have to.” You mutter, as you hand his brush back. He looks back at you, an excited grin on his face. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I mean… I did tell all of you to recreate the vase with flowers, but, you know… Everyone sees things differently, and expresses themselves in a different way so… If just copying isn’t for you, by all means, please express yourself however you desire.” The kid looks back up at you, excited, bright eyes as he nods, you see him looking over at the new canvases, and you nod at him, letting him choose another one, and taking the old one away, you always reused discarded ones to repaint them, as you always hated to waste. 

That felt rewarding, you think to yourself. 

“Miss H?” Another higher pitch voice interrupts your moment of self reflection. 

“Yes?” 

“Mr.Harrington’s on the door.” You turn around as you hear the freshmans giggle and laugh. You smile softly as you roll your eyes. 

Steve’s body is resting against the threshold, falling to hide his smile as his eyes brighten up as he sees you acknowledging him, his heart still felt all warm at the image of you helping your student, sure it is your job, but it didn’t stop his brain from fantasising about a future where he sees you do that everyday, with him by his side, and a little you in between. 

“Hi.” You whispered as you stood in front of him. 

“Hi.” He repeated, his eyes beaming at you. 

“Anything I can help with, Mr.Harrington?” Trying not to say Steve’s name always made you smirk, and you tried to hid it, as you see his lips curling upwards as he hears you say that. 

“We’ve run out of papers, do you have any spare ones?” His finger push his glasses upwards, as his head tilts down to look at you. 

“Yeah, A4s?” He nods at the question as he sees you head back to a little cabinet, looking right to his classroom for a second, his hand brushes his hair in a nervous manner. “There you go.” You tell him as you hand them out. His fingers quickly grace yours. 

“I’ll come over later tonight, I’ve got teacher-parent conference.” He whispers, a bit closer to you now, making sure nobody notices the way his finger is caressing the top of your hand, or how his feet tap yours slowly. 

“Parent-teacher.” You correct him, teasing as he scoffs. 

“I’m the teacher, let me go first…” He mocks as he fails to hide a grin. 

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” You reason to him as you look up, your eyes locking with his, letting yourself get lost in them for a second too long before you ask. “Who?” 

“Jameison and uh… Trevor.” 

“Ugh, good luck.” 

He blinks as he leaves, slower than he needs to. 

“Thank you for the papers, Miss.H” He says as you close the previous open door, your heart begins to jump in anticipation. 

-

You didn’t mind that the floor felt cold to your skin. 

While soft music played in the background, you sat there, legs exposed, with your old paint stained shirt over you, brush on one hand and cigarette on the other. Consumed by the process of your latest project, you found yourself in what a lot of people seemed to call “the zone”. A sort of mental state where sounds were unrecognizable, and your attention was devoted to what you were creating. A cuddled body on an empty bed, sun rays hitting it from a big window that was not in frame, it began taking shape. To the naked eye, it was just a woman on a bed, to you however, it was your mornings in Steve's house. 

You rested the brush on top of your palette, taking your body back for a second, observing the whole painting, though you liked working on details, you had to remember to always look at the bigger picture, from afar so you could know where to tackle next. 

As you did, you heard a pair of knees hit the ground, right beside you, as two arms wrapped your figure from behind, a wet kiss left on your exposed shoulder. You smiled fondly as you grabbed his hands tightly, moving your head closer to his. 

“Didn’t hear you come in.” You tell him, softly, he kisses the same spot again before talking. 

“Missed you.” He says before letting his head rest on your shoulder, as he looked up at what you were working on. “Is that my bed?” He asks cheerfully. 

“Mmh.” 

“Cute.” He mutters, kissing your cheek slowly, you breath out soundly as you smile wide while your teeth show. 

“You’re kissy today…” You teased him softly, as your voice came out in a whisper. 

“I haven’t kissed you since yesterday.” He points out, as he nuzzles his head on your neck, leaving a tender kiss on it, you bite your lower lip as that little show of affection sends goosebumps down your spine, your skin feeling hot all of a sudden. “And I missed you.” He remains you as you turn your body around a bit, his arms still hugging you, only now you were face to face. 

“Missed you too.” You murmured as you left a small kiss on the tip of his nose. His cologne lingered on you once more. 

“Mmh.” He breathed out as one of his arms left your waist to caress the small of your back, his hands playing softly with your shirt. “I love it when it’s just us. ‘Specially when you’re like this.” 

“Like what?” You tease back, your body moving a bit away from him, he pulls you closer to him, tenderly, as soon as he feels you move away, before speaking again. 

“With this shirt…” He teased, as his hand left your back to place itself on your chin, his thumb moving your head up, closer to him. His eyes were lost on your lips, you could feel the way your heart beated faster than before, you were breathing faster in anticipation. “And nothing else.” He adds, as his lips pause before touching yours, letting you breathe each other's air for a bit, before he ceases, and finally kisses you. 

You began to feel light-headed, warm, as you felt the needines transform itself into lust, as the kiss began to grow deeper, your lips opening, so your tongues could finally touch. Your hands traveled upwards so they could reach the back of his neck, and bury themselves on his hair. His lips left yours, though they were slow kisses, and there was no real rush, you yearned for the next one, you needed the wetness of his lips to touch your skin, making it cool down where he touched you, as you felt how it was begging to warm up. He made his way to the crook of your neck, kissing and biting where he knew he would get a reaction, while you moaned softly, as you felt his hand on your back, having slided it under your shirt, you felt as his hands splayed across your lower back. 

“Maybe we should…” You cried out, as he left a bite on your neck that made your spine shiver.

“Yeah, come.” He stuttered as he stood up, his hand out to help you out. You couldn’t help but notice the large bump hidden behind his trousers. 

You intertwined your fingers as you rushed to the bedroom, needing him, and smiling when he blurted out a small “oh my god” when he realised you were only wearing a thong underneath it all. 

He couldn’t wait much, pressing your body against the bedroom wall as he began biting your collarbones, you couldn’t help yourself from moaning in a needy way. You could feel his smile against your skin as your eyes closed and you arch your back. You grab the back of his neck, moving it to meet your lips, though it started with softness, you could feel that the need you had now had transferred this into much faster moves, your lips interlocked, your tongue touching his, you bit his lower lip, pulling away slowly, hearing him moan as you did so, he was still smiling. 

He placed his arms around you, and hugged you tightly as he kissed you once again, fumbling as he reached the bed with you in his arms, letting you down slowly. Your legs hung out of the bed, as you were sitting up on it, feet still touching the ground. His hand travelled to your inner thigh, separating your legs so he could fit in between. You looked at him, his hair wild, he took his glasses off, leaving them on the top of the bed as he threw them, he took out his shirt, exposing his bare chest. He sank to his knees slowly, not losing eye contact with you. A trail of kisses began from your left knee, they were soft, wet and he had no rush to move. When he did, he moved his head upwards, kissing your thigh, biting it to hear you gasp, smiling against your skin as he looked back at you, he left a kiss on your cunt, a wet stain on your thong that drove him crazy, knowing that it was for him. He moved away, repeating the same trail on your other leg, finishing on your right knee. He looked up at you for permission, and he smiled when he saw you nod, your face flushed in pretty pink, your lips parted and your chest raising up and down rapidly. His hands grabbed your love handles roughly, pulling you closer to his mouth. Your body hitted the mattress now, in anticipation, your hand rested on your forehead, muttering a soft “oh my god” as you just wanted one thing. 

When you felt his lips through the small fabric, you couldn’t help but gasp. And you heard him laugh. 

“Relax, I’ll get there.” He teased you, as you couldn’t find the words you wanted or needed to say. 

Instead, one of your hands reached for his hair, and grabbed it tightly, trying to direct him to where you needed him most.  He shook his head as he looked up at you, a teasing smile as he left another kiss on the wet stain, eyes looking up at your reaction. When he heard your moan his hands caressed your legs as he moved them up, taking the underwear off of you. Slowly, lazily. One of his fingers traveled down your cunt, and you gasped at the touch. 

“You’re sensitive today, love.” He breathed. You could hear the wetness travelling across as he moved inside you. You couldn’t help your back from arching upwards. 

He played with you for a bit, his lips teasing you, as he left wet kisses on the fold between your inner thigh and your fold. You heard him breathe out, the cold air contrasting with your wetness made you shiver, as he began to slowly suck on your clit, kissing it, moving his tongue up and down, side to side, in circles. It didn’t matter, you had become lost in pleasure, your hands lost on his hair, pulling him closer to you. 

“S-Steve…” You cried out as he began to move his fingers inside you, your legs beginning to shake as you whimpered his name, he picked up the rhythm as he heard his names escaping your lips. 

“God, you're beautiful.” He said as he pulled away. 

Your hands trembling as you pulled him closer to your lips, you kissed him softly, as you tasted yourself, his knee in between your opened thighs, he began to undo your shirt, as you took off his belt, and unbuttoned his trousers. They slipped away, hitting the ground as your eyes were closed, and you were busy kissing him. Your hands began to play with the elastic of his boxers, pulling his body closer to yours, he wrapped an arm to your waist, pushing you to the middle of the bed. You could feel the weight of his body against yours. His hip punching against yours, grinding as you took your arms out of the sleeves. Your head tilted back as you heard his groan, feeling him in his fullness, your bodies only separated by the thin fabric of his black boxers, raking your nails across his back until you reached the elastic band of his underwear. 

“Take them off.” He whimpered, knowing that hearing him like that, needy and begging, would make you smile and giggle. 

Nonetheless, you did as he asked, sliding them down and letting your hand play with his cock, moving your hand up and down, he kissed you as he tried to hide a moan, and you smiled as you saw the effect you had on him. You loved being with him like this. Feeling as though you were the only ones that mattered. 

You felt him as he teased your entrance with his dick, and he kissed you senseless before entering. Your head tilting back, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him inside you. His hips moving slowly at the beginning, his hands grabbing you hard, burning them onto your skin. 

“Fuck… Love” He whimpered as he thrusted you. 

“Mmh.” You were ridden with desire, and couldn’t say anything else, biting his shoulder as you felt him move even deeper inside you. 

You can feel your walls clinging to him as he starts to move slower, you’re wet after everything he has done in the past hour, and you can feel yourself stretch as he thrust into you, your skin tingling, filled with goosebumps as you let yourself sink into him, letting your thighs fall on either side of his, spread all over his cock, he grabs onto your leg as he looks at your eyes. “I missed you.” He repeats the phrase that started all of this, quietly. “Missed you.” He whimpers as he buries himself into you once more. 

“Miss you too.” You manage to say as you feel your breath shuddering out, getting used to him and his size. 

“I missed your lips, I missed your smell, I missed being with you.” He confesses in between movements, as you feel the beating of his cock inside you, your nails grabbing onto his back, as he leaves a wet kiss on your lips, biting your lower lip as he pulls away, his free hand pulling away a flock of hair away from your soft face. 

“Yeah?” You ask as you feel how you’re melting on his arms. 

“Yeah, I hate when I can’t just kiss you.” He recognises, as he pulls his hips harder onto you, making you squeal when you feel him fully in. A dazed smile on both of your faces. 

He leaves a small kiss on your cheek, as he starts to move again, it feels just as good as you remembered, that stretch, the prodding sensation that his tip left on your sweet spot, his free hand moves up to your chest, cupping your breast as he squeezes, he has good hands and knows how to use them, teasing your nipple until he can feel it peaking. 

“Fuck, I can..” He tries to say it all at once, but his words come out low and drawn out “just how wet you are, dripping all over…” You nod as you moan, loudly. 

Your head nods, opening your eyes, meeting his gaze, your thumb caressing his cheek. “I feel it” you whine out as you can see his head tilted back in pleasure, kissing his neck as he does so. 

He begins to move a bit faster, doing it with intention this time, hearing the sound that your juices make only proves what he had just told you. “Like that.” He mutters, as his hand that was on your breast travels upwards to your neck, pressuring a bit on it, enough to make you dizzy and moan in excitement, your hips moving upwards as you need more of him all of a sudden. “Making a mess on me, love.” He teases as he looks down for a second where you're connected, your legs tangled on his waist now, his hand on your butt, pushing in harder now. 

You shiver. 

His hand moves away from your neck, his lips kissing the zone he had just left, hot flesh under his lips, he can’t help himself from biting you softly. “Fuck love… You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about your lips, about kissing you.” 

He buries himself into you, as you get lost on him, making you one. 

“Just wanting another.” He moans out as he feels your hips begin to move at the same speed, his nails scratching your butt. 

As you open your eyes, you're lost in his gaze, he is begging. You chuckle as you kiss him, slow, soft kisses that build, your hands getting lost on his hair, as you kiss him you were trying to pour every ounce of affection, and every Imissedyou on his lips. 

His hips moving in time with your kisses, the pressure that his tongue left on yours made you dizzy, his cock deep in your cunt feeling like a bliss. When Steve breaks your kisses, his head rests on your shoulder, breathing in your ear as you both moan and groan each other's names, pure adrenaline and desire in your voices. 

You can tell you are both about to finish as you lose your rhythm, not caring about anything else but pleasure, you feel him come as you feel the palpitations that leave your cunt. A doozy smile across your faces. 

“I’ll kiss you forever.” You whisper to him as he hugs you deeply, pulling you onto his chest as his back hits the mattress. 

“Someday, I’ll make you Miss.Harrington, and they will stop calling you Miss.H.” He teases, as he leaves a kiss on your forehead. His lips still wet as he does so. 

“I can’t wait.” You confess to him. 

You stayed there, laying on top of your sheets, now messy and tangled you enjoyed the feeling that his soft skin left on yours. Both of you were out of breath, and didn’t need to say anything. Your head laid on his chest, your leg on the top of his body, he caresses it softly, tracing intricate patterns on your naked skin, leaving goosebumps all over it. Your head tilted up to look at him, his eyes focused on the drawings he was leaving, you enjoyed the simplicity and intimacy of this time just as much as you did five minutes ago when he was inside you. You smiled to yourself, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you realized where your feelings for him truly were. He looks softly down at you, his eyes darting around your face, a smirk on his lips as he opens them so he could talk. 

“What?” 

“What?” You ask him, adoration evident on your bright eyes. 

“You were giggling, what were you giggling about?” You melt a little bit as his smile widens, before leaving a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“I just… It’s stupid.” 

“Nothing you think is ever stupid, love.” 

lovelovelove.

“I just, I think I’m falling for you.” You confess. Your voice soft and warm as you look at him, your head falling on his chest, looking directly onto his eyes. 

He cups your cheeks in between his hands as he leaves a soft chaste kiss on your lips, as his thumbs softly caress the sides of them, you can feel his lips curving up on a smile before he pulls away. 

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice slightly higher as he melts. 

“Yeah.” 

“I am too.” He admits. You melt onto his arms, letting the warmth of his body keep you safe, intertwined with him. 

-

The sudden ringing of the phone wakes you up. 

“Hello, I’m Dee, I’m calling from the Angels Gallery in New York.” A soft spoken women’s voice comes from the speaker and your body immediately incorporates itself. shitshitshit. 

“Hi Dee, um…” Your voice is deep and croaks as you speak, having just woken up. You look to your left, a sleepy Steve looking at you, his eyes half opened as he looks at you. “What can I… um- do for you?” 

“We just need to check in with you, since you haven’t responded to our last email.” shitshitshit

“Um, I’m not established in Indiana, um… And the connection here is spotty, I’m sorry.” You apologise as your fingers play anxiously with the sheets that covered your body. 

“No need to apologise, that’s understandable.” She calms you down with a sweet voice that makes you relax your shoulders. “The email was regarding your upcoming exhibition.”

“Yeah, is there a problem, is everything okay?” Panic evident in your voice, Dee laughs in an attempt to calm you a bit, though it doesn’t work the way she intended to. Steve’s finger tap on your hand, making you look down at him, as he smiles up at you, meeting your gaze. 

He mouths you’re okay.

“Yeah, no, everything's fine.” She elongates the last word, her nosely voice over pronouncing the ‘n’ finnne. “Our coordinator saw your recent work that you forwarded to us, and he wanted to let you know, that he considered that your work would fit better on the April exposition, if it does well, you’d be in our walls for the next 6 months, with the implication or rather, expectation that if you do sell works, you’d replace them with new pieces.” Your mouths opens as you realize what she is telling you. 

“April?” you need the confirmation, making sure that everything you just heard was real. 

“Yes.” 

“As in two weeks from now, April?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Holy shit.” You giggle out as you cover your mouth. Steve scoots over you as he tries to hear anything from the other end. 

“Indeed.” She teases. “I’ll take that as a confirmation from your end.” 

“I..-” You look down at him, and he just nods at you, a big smile on his face. “Yes.” 

“Fantastic. We’ll see you on the 5th to ensemble the collection, and for the big opening on the 6th.” 

“Great, thank you so much Dee.” 

“My pleasure, have a good day. 

“You too.”

Once you hang up you let your body hit the bed, giggling as you kick the air, excited for it all and an aweing Steve laughing with you, even if he doesn’t know what he is celebrating. 

“Are we happy?” He asks, his face closer to yours. 

“Very.” You tell him as you leave a fast chaste kiss on his lips. “So, so, so happy Stevie.” 

You closed your eyes as you let him hug you closely, he always liked being the big spoon, feeling you closer to him, he liked feeling you this close, feeling like he was protecting you, like you were all his. And he’d promised himself to keep doing that for as long as you’d let him, or for as long as his heart kept beating. 

Needles to say, you’d felt the same, letting him hold you close until your last breath.

“Steve?” You felt your heart beating faster and faster, as you turned around to face him. 

“Yes?” 

“I… I um-” He blushed, his eyes opening as he realized what you were about to say. 

“I love you too.” He says, a soft grin on his face as his hand brushes your hair as his fond voice rings in your ears. 

“I knew you’d say it first.” You tease him as you laugh, your lips close to each other, as you breathe eachothers air, he tickles you before closing the distance. 

“Idiot.” 

“An Idiot you love.” You keep teasing him as your giggles and laughter fill the room. “And who loves you too.”

-

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference

-

ppl that asked to be taged <3 @param8re @evansflowers

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

Saw your post about fucking Eddie to dazed and confused by Led Zeppelin, how about having sex with him to love bites by Def Leppard 😩

the two of you are at skull rock, early evening light settling across the sky. you & eddie lie upon a blanket he brought with him, and your portable boom box was playing one of his tapes. everything was peaceful, you were both alone, and you tried not to think about the last time the two of you had been there. that was last year, when everything had gone to shit after those mysterious deaths that eddie was accused of perpetrating. so much had happened since then—so much loss, horror, and devastation—but everything was slowly getting back to normal. one of those steps toward normalcy had been coming to skull rock, and surprisingly, neither of you were too affected by being there.

you both wanted some time alone together, away from everyone & everything else. the need to get as far out of hawkins’ town center was absolutely essential for your well-being and sanity; you desired it more than anything else. lover’s lake was still a sore spot for both of you, so that was out; skull rock was the next best bet. you both planned on going up there and just watching the sunset, maybe share a beer or two as you lay in each other’s arms, but nothing ever went as planned with eddie munson.

you soon found yourselves all over each other, hands moving over bodies and lips exploring necks as he pulled you into his lap. as it always happened, making out led to much more, and after a little grinding, stripping, and kissing, you were being placed onto your back. eddie was on top of you, his weight pressing into your body as he kissed you passionately. he explored your body with his mouth when the kiss broke, all teeth and hard, desperate kisses against skin as he soaked up every single moan, whine, and pleasurable noise you made. you were getting more and more aroused as he bit down on your most sensitive erogenous zones, his hair brushing against your skin as he worshipped every inch of you. his lips caused goosebumps to erupt all over your body, his teeth causing a fire to break out in the pit of your lower stomach. you weren’t sure how much longer you could take the torture, and decided to take matters into your own hands after a short time.

you’re on top of him in a flash, turning him onto his back and gladly returning the favor. your lips caress every tattoo, your teeth pulling at his nipples as he whines pleasurably. his throbbing erection was brushing your lower belly and even your thighs at one point, pulsating as your mouth worked on his hot skin. you begin to jerk him off, your tongue flicking his nipples as he watches you, one ringed hand on the back of your head as he attempts to push you down his body. you know what he wants, and you’re more than happy to give it to him.

you sink between his legs to take him into your mouth, but you don’t suck him off for very long. you were now more aware of the music coming from the boombox, and def leppard’s love bites begins to play. eddie is urging you to come up, and you do so as he throws you onto the blanket. you’re a soaking fucking mess, and he’s so hard that he’s nearly twitching, his tip slick with precum. you both know there is no more time to lose, if you want to do this now. you were both so goddamn horny that you couldn’t stand it, and eddie was pushing inside of you after your assurance that you were ready.

he enters you slowly, stopping only when he’s balls-deep in your cunt. he fucks you to the exact pace of the music. he goes slow, speeds up with every chorus, then slows again. your shaky legs are wrapped around his waist, your head thrown back as he absolutely rails you, his long, thick cock filling you up so fucking beautifully. you look up at him, taking in the sight of his long hair hanging down, his brown eyes glassy with lust, his skin flushed, his swollen lips parted as he moans under the music.

he’s bracing himself on both arms, and your hands are all over his body, one hand pushing some hair from his face before you pull him down for a messy, hot kiss. you swap positions a few times, with you rolling him over so that you can ride him, and him grabbing you and rolling you onto your back when he wants to regain control. the obscene sounds of sex are overriding the music, but neither of you give a fuck. you just kiss him, both of you drinking each other’s moans as your climaxes grow closer with every thrust.

he breaks one kiss so that his mouth can find your neck, sucking and biting desperately as he fucks into you. and then it’s over, funnily enough just as the song has almost ended. you cum together—you only a split second before him, your own fingers diligently working your clit as the other hand yanks at his hair. you cry out his name, not caring that it echoes all around, squirting around his cock as you feel the biggest rush of euphoria in such a long time. your nails scratch down his back, so hard that a little blood is drawn. your legs are still quaking, your body an overcharged mess as you cling to him.

he’s in fucking heaven, too, you can tell. with a final twitch inside of you, his body spasmed and a loud groan fell from his lips, coating the inside of your cunt with his orgasm. you clenched around him as he came, milking him for every drop that he could give you at the moment. his face was pure pleasure; he was blissed out, gone to another plane for a little bit, so drunk on your pussy that he didn’t know nor care about anything else.

you both stay like that for a minute, well into the next song on the tape. you just relish in each other, enjoying the warm closeness of your damp bodies, and basking in the afterglow. skull rock was no longer the place where shit began to go further south a year prior, but was now a more meaningful, beautiful place. even if those feelings would later change, it didn’t matter in the moment.

today, it was a place of beauty, of joy, of smiles and giggles and love. and that was the only thing that mattered.

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 5: Bad Men

Chapter Five.

I saw the part of you that only when you're older, You will see too, you will see too, I held the better cards, But every stroke of luck has gotta bleed through, It's gotta bleed through, You held the balance of the time, That only blindly I could read you, but I could read you, It's like you told me, 'Go forward slowly, it's not a race to the end,' Well you look like yourself, but you're somebody else, Only it ain't on the surface, Well, you talk like yourself, no, I hear someone else though, Now you're making me nervous

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 6,832

Chapter Warnings: Conversations alluding to physical abuse, explicit language, Jonathan beating Steve's ass, slut shaming, canon-type violence (which may or may not end in un-aliving someone), Carol and Tommy at this point are their own warnings, mentions of the death of a child/children.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Five: Bad Men

Despite Nancy’s persistence, you declined the offer to stay at hers that night. Sure, none of you felt particularly safe, but you needed the comfort of your own bed that evening. Plus, you weren’t exactly willing to let Nancy or Jonathan see you cry.

All the lights were off when you arrived home, your mother’s car gone from the driveway, most likely in the town over where she could drink in peace after work. At least it meant she was far away from whatever was lurking in the shadows of the woods.

You’d crawled into bed after checking and rechecking the lock on the door, only slightly more worried about the creature than you were about your mother’s wrath of being locked out. Despite the presumption that sleep would manage to evade you, you’d fallen into a restless sleep eventually.

The only thing that seemed to rouse you from your fitful sleep was the incessant ringing of the phone, but thankfully a pillow over your head was enough to drown it out.

When the pounding on the door started, however, your body jerked upright, moving on its own accord. Your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you crept towards the door and it was only when you heard Nancy’s voice calling out to you that your stomach returned to its rightful place in your body. Your annoyance, however, grew tenfold.

“Why are you banging on my door so loudly, and so early?” You asked, swinging the door open and almost knocking yourself out, “Do you know how lucky you are my Mom isn’t home?”

“We need to talk. It’s about last night.”

Nancy and Jonathan perched on your sofa, thighs lightly grazing and the former’s eyes taking in the mess in front of her. Broken coffee table, pieces of what she presumed was either a glass or — from the smell of the house — an ashtray littering the worn carpet.

“Should we say something?”

Turning, Jonathan’s own concerned expression met hers, but the boy shook his head, “No. It’s best if we just drop it.”

Nancy wanted to protest, but the sound of your bedroom door creaking open was enough of a distraction. Still, the girl couldn’t pull her ocean-blue eyes from the cut on your cheekbone as you rejoined them.

“Please tell me you’re not going back in there,” you sighed, sitting on the small armchair as you watched the two closely.

“No. Not exactly, anyway.”

Releasing a deep sigh, you grabbed the packet of cigarettes from the side table, lit one up, and settled back into the seat, continuing only once the thick smoke had burned your lungs, “I don’t like the sound of that. What do you plan on doing? Wait for it to climb back through your wall?”

Nancy shuffled slightly, her cheeks tinted a dusty rose as her thigh nudged Jonathan’s, “The night Barb went missing… She had a cut on her hand. She tried to shotgun a beer and slipped.”

Your brows pulled together as you watched the girl silently. If she had a point, she needed to get to it.

“You never told me that.”

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” Nancy’s eyes dipped to her knees when she saw the annoyance cross your face but forced herself to continue, “but after last night… That thing didn’t have a face but it still chased us. It still knew where we were. It hunted us.”

Rubbing your hand over your face you winced slightly as your fingertips grazed over the small gash on your cheekbone, “Yeah, I was there, Nance. I don’t need a reminder.”

“No, I mean… It couldn’t see us. I know it heard us but… It was tracking us. Tracking you.”

Releasing a sigh, you stubbed out the cigarette straight onto the end table and sat forward resting your face in your hands, “Nancy, please. Just spit it out.”

“You have a cut on your face, your hands… There was a reason it went after you and not me, and I don’t just mean your name-calling.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between you both, unaware of what fully happened on your trip to the Upside Down.

“You think it what... smells blood? Hunts like a shark?”

Remaining quiet, Nancy simply nodded causing the slightly condescending smile that had tugged at your mouth to drop, “Shit. I mean, I guess that makes sense.”

“We’re going to kill it.”

Nancy’s voice — however soft — was full of determination, and that might’ve been the only reason you didn’t laugh at her absolutely ludicrous idea. When neither of the two continued to speak, merely glancing at you like two puppy dogs, you let out a long sigh,

“You don’t even know if you can kill it, let alone how.”

“It has to have a weakness-”

“This isn’t some kind of fairy tale villain, Byers. You don’t have a clue what this thing even is.”

“We were hoping that maybe you’d help-”

Pushing yourself from the small chair, you couldn’t hold in the frenetic laugh that bubbled up from your chest as you shook your head, looking anywhere but the two delusional teens who were perched ramrod straight on your couch,

“You’re both out of your minds. I’m not tagging along on this suicide mission-”

Jonathan’s voice trembled, but his dark eyes remained steady on you, “We know the stakes. We know that this thing, whatever it is… It’s dangerous. Deadly. But this is about my brother. This is about Will. And I’m doing this for him, even if it kills me.”

Your pacing had halted the moment the boy spoke with such conviction, feet suddenly cemented to the ground as he stood and made his way toward the door, Nancy dubiously following him.

“I get that you’re scared. And I totally understand if you don’t wanna do this. But we thought that you should know.”

Sending you a sad smile — one that told you no matter your decision, Jonathan wouldn’t hold it against you — the boy pulled open the door, beginning to make his way outside, only for your words to halt him,

“How the hell are we gonna kill this thing?”

Two sets of eyes turned back toward you, brightened with the hope that they wouldn’t have to do this alone. Nancy took a few steps toward you, ignoring the cracking of already broken glass under her boot, a small gracious smile pulling at the edges of her lips,

“We have a few ideas.”

“This feels beyond illegal,” you huffed, following Jonathan around the Hawkins Hunting and Camping store, and the fact that you were now here to fight some kind of faceless monster that had already planned on making you its next meal almost made you laugh outwardly.

Jonathan — not quite able to muster the same amount of tact you had — snorted quietly, causing you to peel your eyes away from the wall of rifles and send him a sharp glare instead, “Since when were you concerned with breaking the law?”

Grabbing a gas canister from the shelf in front of you, you didn’t bother to lessen your stare, “Since my Mom got called to the school by the cops, maybe?”

Jonathan took the canister from your hands, sad eyes boring into the small cuts on your palm. Suddenly much too aware of the unspoken question that was on the tip of his tongue, you squirmed on the spot, shuffling your weight between each foot as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Palms now blocked from his view, he bypassed the mark on your face completely and instead sent you an eye-roll, hoping to defuse the uneasy tension that had quickly built between you, “Please, as if Hopper would let anything happen to you.”

Hearing just the man’s name forced your brow to pull into a frown. Grabbing the gas back from the boy’s grip, you turned on the spot and marched toward Nancy, who was silently browsing the different types of animal traps.

Piling all of your wares into the trunk of Jonathan’s car, a red car cruised by honking, and a — somehow, even more annoying — familiar face peered out of his wound-down window. Reed Jackson.

You barely caught the derogatory comment he howled towards your small group, and it took you a moment to realize that it wasn’t actually aimed at you.

Breaking into a power walk, you stalked after Nancy as she made her way down the street, halting so quickly in front of The Hawk that you almost barreled right into her. Peering up towards where Nancy was staring — her crestfallen expression tugging at your heartstrings — you cursed under your breath as you took in the painted red words,

ALL THE RIGHT MOVES STARRING NANCY THE SLUT WHEELER

You were confused at first. Nancy was well-liked among your peers at school — even if she was a little prissy — and you wracked your brain to try and work out who would’ve written something like that about her. If anything, you were sure Nancy’s reputation leaned a little closer to prude than anything else, and if you weren’t — unfortunately — privy to the fact she’d had a tryst with Harrington, you might’ve assumed the same.

And then you heard them.

Nancy was already moving, and you and Jonathan chanced a glance at each other before following her, hot on her heels as she turned down the alleyway and came face-to-face with the man himself.

Tommy ceased his new artwork — naming Jonathan as his next victim — as you all watched with bated breath as Nancy and Steve stood in a silent showdown.

It was a slap that could be heard around the world. Harrington’s head shot to the side by the sheer force of impact alone as his friends all let out a shocked gasp. If you were being honest, you didn’t know Nancy had it in her.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked, and you couldn’t help but feel impressed that she hadn’t allowed her voice to crack. It was obvious she was hurt, but you couldn’t work out why Steve was so upset with her.

Steve’s darkened eyes peered down at the girl, the only part of his face that didn’t remain stoic, “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you. I was worried about you.”

Nancy’s mouth opened, but Steve didn’t let her question him, “I can’t believe that I was actually worried about you.”

You couldn’t help but watch the two, your eyes darting between them as you watched their verbal tennis match and it wasn’t until Tommy interrupted his girlfriend's attempt to involve herself in the couple’s business that you realized his attention had been turned to Jonathan instead, and it all seemed to click in place for Nancy.

All but rolling her eyes, she watched as Jonathan timidly approached, his dark eyes darting between Nancy and Steve.

“You came by last night.”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Shut up, Carol.”

You ignored her pointed side-eye as Tommy wrapped his arm around her shoulders, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.”

“What, you just let him into your room to… study?”

The realization that Jonathan had stayed over at Nancy’s last night caused you to bite down on your bottom lip. If Steve had come over and seen them, then sure… It probably looked bad. But he should’ve trusted Nancy. If anyone had a reputation, it was him.

The guilt hit you just as quickly, knowing that if you had taken up Nancy’s offer and stayed, maybe Steve would’ve been a little more understanding, and she wouldn’t be slut shamed on the front of The Hawk’s marquee.

“We were just…”

“You were just what? Finish the sentence,” When Nancy didn’t respond, Steve stepped in closer, peering down at the girl with nothing less than disgust, “Finish the sentence.”

Your eyes darted toward Jonathan, the boy’s own were wide and unsure. They hadn’t been doing anything, you knew that. But you couldn’t explain the reasoning to Steve.

Scoffing, Steve began his retreat, “Go to hell, Nancy.”

“Come on, Nancy, let’s just leave,” Jonathan tried to pull at her arm, but Steve stopped, turning quickly for one last stab.

“You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed. I always took you for a queer but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like you’re father.”

Steve continued to push the boy as you all tried to walk away, but his anger was bubbling under the surface, his words purposeful and full of indignation, wanting nothing more than to hurt Jonathan the same way he was hurting.

Jonathan froze at the mention of his father, and you knew why. Lonnie Byers was an absolute piece of shit who walked in and out of the Byers’ boy’s lives constantly throughout their childhood before wandering back in as if nothing had happened. He was cruel and selfish, and Jonathan had felt it was his duty towards his mother and brother to protect them from the violent man's wrath.

Jonathan was nothing like Lonnie.

But Steve saw a chink in Jonathan’s normally stoic armor and continued to pick.

“Ignore him, Jonathan. He’s not-”

“Yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family. I mean, you’re Mom-”

“Harrington, just stop.”

“I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother. I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but the Byers? Their family is a disgrace to the entire-”

Steve didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Jonathan’s fist flew through the air, connecting with the former’s jaw, knocking him sideways.

The silence was piercing and seemed ever-lasting as everyone froze, waiting to see what would happen next. Steve — who wasn’t really one to physically bully anyone at school — versus Jonathan, who’d only ever been on the receiving end of a fist.

Steve rushed the boy, tackling him to the hood of a parked car before using his body weight to throw him to the floor.

Nancy stood trying to get the boys to break it up, whilst you stood wide-eyed doing your best impression of a fish. Despite the fists that were thrown, you couldn’t help but picture two hairy cats scrapping in a yard.

But Steve had pushed Jonathan. After everything that had happened, Steve’s comment was the straw that broke the camel’s back and as far as you were concerned, the boy deserved every hit that Byers got in.

Tommy shoved his way between the two, but Steve beckoned him off as the two began to brawl again. At least Harrington had one redeeming trait and kept the fight fair.

The next thing you knew, Steve was dragged up by his friends before running off in one direction, and Jonathan was being restrained by Powell after Jonathan had elbowed Callahan accidentally after one incredibly painful right hook to Steve’s cheek.

You stood with Nancy in shock watching the boy as the adrenaline finally wore off, his body becoming lax against the hood of the same sky blue Ford he was not too long ago thrown onto, his breath coming out in pants as Powell handcuffed him and led him into his own vehicle.

“I’m just saying, Florence, that I don’t know why I have to be here. I wasn’t even the one fighting.”

The older lady peered at you from under her glasses before she made her way to the small freezer, you quick on her heels, “And I’m just saying, young lady, that you have to be here to give a statement. And whilst I’m glad you’ve — for once — kept your hands to yourself, I won’t if you continue to follow me around this office like a pesky little gnat. Now take a seat. The Chief will be back any time now.”

Sending a sarcastic smile her way as you mock saluted, you made your way back to where Jonathan was handcuffed to Powell’s desk. You’d known Flo for a long time, and her comment was more so a promise, than a threat. You’d been on the receiving end of her swatting hands more than enough times to know she didn’t fuck around with empty threats.

Nancy stood, making her way toward Flo to request some ice for the boy, whilst you watched her from a safe distance. Even Nancy Wheeler wasn’t safe from the older woman's annoyed whacks.

“I’m not one to condone fighting-”

Jonathan huffed out a small puff of laughter through his nose, dark eyes staring up at you as you perched on the desk. Raising your brows, you crossed your arms over your chest and hoped to keep the mischievous grin your from lips long enough,

“As I was saying… Whilst I do not condone violence of any kind… You totally kicked Harrington’s ass back there.”

A languid smile graced his features, but couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I mean, really. You totally had him. If the cops hadn’t broken it up, he’d probably be lying unconscious in that alley still. What the hell got into you?”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes full of confusion as your expression turned serious, “I thought you didn’t care about Harrington-”

“I don’t,” you reiterated, placing a hand over his own, “I care about you, Jonathan. And this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you hit back in a fight, let alone throw the first punch-”

“I’m not proud of it,” he told you somberly, his eyes peering down at the metal around his wrists, “But what he was saying, about my Mom, and Will… about Lonnie. I just… I couldn’t stand it.”

“And nobody blames you for that. I’m sure Hopper will understand, and it isn’t like Callahan’s going to press charges. That’s way too much paperwork. This is just… just mandatory.”

Sighing, Jonathan’s shoulders hunched even further as his hands moved, testing the strength of the cuffs, “How can you be so sure? God, this is the last thing my Mom needs right now-”

“Last year, I was at a party at Mike Lewinski’s house, and one of his neighbors called the cops to break it up. Callahan got hold of me when I was running, and when I tried shoving him off, I accidentally headbutted him. Broke his nose and even heard the bone crack. And yet, here I am to tell the tale. I mean, sure... I had to scrub the floors here every day after school for a week, but no juvie.”

“I found some ice.”

Removing your hand quickly from Jonathan’s you turned to send Nancy a small smile, “And now she’s back, I’m gonna head out.”

“Didn’t Mrs Larkin tell you to stay here until Hopper arrives?” Nancy questioned, her blue eyes darting between you and Jonathan as if she was trying to unravel something that she couldn’t quite make out.

Sending her a sardonic smirk, you pushed yourself from the edge of the desk, eyes settling on the secretary who was now tapping away on her computer, the repetitive clack, clack, clacking already grating on you,

“Me and Flo are on a first-name basis. Plus, Hopper is kinda the reason I want to leave.” Placing a hand onto the girl's arm, this time you smiled at her warmly, “He’ll be fine. And if you’re still up for our monster-hunting session later, let me know and I’ll be there. Until then, I’m gonna go find my bike.”

Waiting until Flo turned in her chair to rifle through some files, you began your descent to the door, almost breaking out into a jog. You heard the woman’s annoyed call of your name and could bet a hundred dollars that she hadn’t even turned around.

Barely squeezing through the small gap of the door — sneaking as if the woman hadn’t already spotted you — you left her with your parting words, “If he needs a statement so bad, then Hopper knows where I live.”

You really didn’t want to head back to the woods alone, you thought to yourself before letting out a long, annoyed sigh.

Hands burrowed deep in your jacket pockets — a futile attempt to keep them warm — you continued your long walk. After grabbing your bike, you’d head back, tidy up the mess from the previous evening, and hope that Hopper didn’t make a home visit. Then, you’d wait for Nancy’s call before heading out to what felt like your inevitable death.

Plucking a cigarette out of your crumpled pack, you shook your lighter a few times, cursing under your breath when the damn thing wouldn’t light.

Grumbling, you made a slight detour and headed to Fair Mart, only to stop abruptly when an irksomely familiar head of hair caught your eye.

Perched on the hood of his BMW sat a bruised and bloody Steve Harrington.

“It suits you, you know?” You told him as you approached, his head jerking up in your direction.

“What does?”

“Getting your ass handed to you. Maybe someone should do it more often.”

He tried to roll his eyes, but you caught the slight flinch, brows pinching together in pain, “Look, I’m really not in the mood-”

“Where do you get off on treating people like shit? The stuff you said about Byers? Not ok. And the shit about Nancy? What is wrong with you, Harrington?”

“What’s wrong with me? Jonathan and Nancy were-”

“You have no idea, do you? Jonathan has just lost his brother. He’s still grieving. And Nancy? With your reputation, I wouldn’t exactly be throwing stones in a glass house.”

“Come to fight your boyfriend's battles for him?” Carol asked before popping her gum, glaring at you as she made her way back towards Steve, her boyfriend’s arm in its usual place over her shoulder.

Leering at you, a haughty smirk pulled at the edges of Tommy’s lips, “Yeah I mean, how does that work now? Are you and the Princess gonna have allocated days, or just, you know… Share? Together.”

“Ew, Tommy, shut up. There’s not enough bleach in the world to get that image out of my head.” Carol glared, elbowing her boyfriend in the ribs and causing his arm to drop from her.

“Do you two ever shut the fuck up? Seriously, you’re insufferable.”

Popping her gum a little too loudly, Carol’s icy blue eyes set on you in a cold stare, “You wanna go for another little trip, freak? Or did your Mommy already beat me to it?”

“You don’t know shit about shit, Carol.”

“Really? Are you sure about that?” Carol let out an insolent cackle, stepping closer to you, “Because we all know how much your Mommy likes to pour liquor down her throat after your dad left. I mean, I’d probably go crazy too, if one of my kids died because the other one was a useless, pathetic-”

“-That’s enough, Carol.”

Huffing out a surprised laugh from her nose, Carol turned toward Steve, who had pushed himself from the hood of his car, his body slightly shielding you from her.

“Are you kidding me, Steve? Please, it’s no wonder her only friend is Byers. They both have something in common. Fratricide, right?”

“Don’t forget that loser, Bridgette or Brenda, or whatever-”

“Oh god, her. Yeah, gotta admit though, I’d rather be dead than stuck with you, too-”

“Her name was Barbara, you stupid son of a bitch-”

Leaping toward the girl and fully prepared to have a fight of your own, you were quickly blocked by Steve’s chest as he swiveled, the boy using his body to hold you back as Carol cackled out loud, despite the quick back step she took, hiding slightly behind her boyfriend who didn’t bother to move.

“Get off of me, Harrington-”

“You’re gonna end up doing something you regret, trust me-”

“Oh my god, you really are a psycho. Runs in the family, I guess.”

Carol’s words only egged you on further, the annoyance you felt toward Steve suddenly hidden under a blanket of rage toward Carol, and a need to smash her stupid face into the sidewalk.

“Carol, shut up-”

“Everything okay out here?”

Turning your head, you saw Earl from the gas station exit the store, squinting in your direction before looking around at the group. Finally managing to shake Steve’s grip from your biceps, you took a step away from the group, eyes flitting toward the older man,

“Everything’s fine, Earl.”

“You sure? I can call Hopper if-”

“-No. It’s fine. I was leaving anyway.”

Earl remained still for a moment longer, uncertain as to whether or not he should leave, but when you sent him a stiff nod, he slowly made his way back toward his car, lingering for just a moment before getting in.

“Remind me again, is the chief your mom’s boyfriend, or yours?”

The catty remark went over your head — just — as you turned your attention back to Steve, the boy at least having the decency to look abashed, “You know… For weeks I had to listen to Nancy go on and on, defending you to Barb, telling her that she didn’t really know you and that you were actually a decent person, and for just a minute there, I thought maybe you were.”

Steve’s brows pulled together, disgrace and pain etched across his features as clear as day as he waited for you to continue, his brown puppy dog eyes staring into your soul, “But maybe Barb was right. We might be freaks and losers… But you guys are assholes. You’re an asshole, Harrington.”

Ignoring the need for a new lighter and instead stomping off towards the woods in an attempt to locate your bike, you could hear Carol’s high-pitched voice, mocking your words as you left.

“You say blood draws this thing?” Hopper asked, eyes locked on the beast in the photo Joyce had handed to him.

“We don’t know…”

“It’s just a theory.”

Hopper raised a brow toward the teens, waiting for one of them to clarify. Unsettled under his stoic observation, Nancy broke first, explaining about Barb’s cut on her hand, about how the monster seemed to hunt you down as if it could smell the clotted blood on your cheek.

“Wait a damn second… You’re telling me she’s gone back to the place where this… thing tried to attack her?”

“She’s looking for her bike,” Jonathan shrugged, face pinched as he realized the danger you’d put yourself in, “but we’ve only seen this thing at night.”

His reassurance fell on deaf ears when Nancy piped up, explaining how she was certain she’d seen it stalking around the woods at the back of the Harrington house. A curse fell from Hopper’s mouth as he rubbed a hand over his beard,

“The other day she… She was running from something. She told me… shit. She told me about it and didn’t think I believed her. But she saw it. You all saw it?”

Nancy and Jonathan looked toward each other before nodding.

“Right. Ok. Shit. I’ll be back.”

—

“How long ago did she leave, Flo?”

“What am I? Her personal timekeeper?” Flo sighed, continuing to type on her computer until Hopper slammed a hand on his desk, making the other officers around the station jump, but Flo was immune to Hopper and his sudden outbursts, “About an hour and a half ago.”

“And you just let her go?”

He knew that directing his irritation toward his secretary wasn’t right, but Flo was more than aware that it wasn’t just irritation coursing through Hopper’s body. Right now, he was worried.

“I have about as much luck keeping her in this station as I do getting you to complete your paperwork.”

And as always, Flo had a point.

Spinning on the spot, you were certain this was where you’d left your bike the night prior. You could still see the track marks where you’d almost barreled into Nancy. Your heart was pounding as you stood with your hands on your hips, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip.

Taking one last look around and preparing to return home empty-handed, you spotted what looked like drag marks. Inhaling deeply, you forced your feet forward and ignored the lump that began to creep its way up your throat, threatening to suffocate you.

Pushing back the bush, your eyes widened as your hand found its way to your mouth to stop the loud scream that was bound to erupt from you. You’d found your bike, but it wasn’t exactly… ridable.

The metal frame was bent out of shape along the down tube and completely torn apart at the top tube. One wheel was flat and torn as if something had bitten into it and decided that rubber tiers were of a selective palate, and you were missing an entire pedal, crank arm included.

Blood stained the side of it, and you could only presume that the monster had been stalking about after eating the deer it had allegedly dragged into… wherever you found it.

Nose scrunched up in disgust, you pulled the bike through the bush as quietly as you could, an annoyed huff falling from your lips as you fully took in the irreparable damage, “Well shit…”

—

Your legs ached as you trekked through the woods — following the train tracks that would lead you back to civilization — but you didn’t stop until you reached the junkyard, the fear of the woods still at the forefront of your mind no matter how much you tried to compartmentalize it.

“When do you feel good about anything?!”

Your brain forced your body to halt mid-step and kick a metal pipe that was on the floor, profanities falling from your mouth as you hobbled about on one foot, your hands grabbing the metal pole, ready to launch it across the yard. The voice was muffled, but loud enough to be close. Looking around, you could hear a commotion, hushed voices bickering somewhere in the distance, and it wasn’t until you turned toward the old, broken-down school bus that you saw four pairs of eyes staring at you, heads quickly darting down when they realized you’d noticed them.

“You know, a junkyard really isn’t the kind of place you wanna be hanging out. There’s rats and all kinda shit here. Literally.”

You could hear mumbled conversations before a lone head popped up, eyes widening when the person was quickly yanked back down.

Raising a single brow, you began to walk toward the bus once you realized you recognized the owner of the big, brown eyes and most likely the owners of the bikes that were not-so-well hidden under the vehicle, “Lucas? Is that you?”

More mumbling, before a singular voice caught you off guard, “I can deal with her.”

Unable to control the small huff of laughter at being threatened by a preteen, you knocked on the bus door, watching as the same four pairs of eyes peered around the bus seats,

“Sinclair? What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Are you sure we can trust her? What if she’s with them?”

Lucas shoved off the vice-like grip from his jacket before sending his curly-haired friend a deadpan look, “She’s my babysitter. I really don’t think the bad men would’ve bothered with her.”

More grumbles and hushed whispers continued as the boy made his way toward the barely closed door, pulling it open fully and letting you in.

Once inside, he quickly shut the door as best he could behind you, eyes widened when he saw the broken metal pole still in your grip.

“Why are you holding that?” Nancy’s little brother questioned, eyes brimming with suspicion as he stood in front of a small girl.

Looking down toward the object that in all honesty you’d forgotten that you were even holding, you placed it on a front seat before making your way toward the group slowly, the little girl's eyes never leaving you, “Why are you guys hiding in a broken down bus?”

“Have you seen them?”

“Seen who?” you asked, turning to watch the curly-haired boy, Dustin, peering out of the window.

“A bunch of bad guys in repair trucks. They’re after us-”

Unable to hold in your snort, you settled onto a seat in front of Lucas, “Why? Did you steal their hammer wrenches or something?”

“This is serious, alright? They’re really, really dangerous and if they find us, they’ll kill us all. You included!”

Finally taking him seriously, you turned back toward Dustin as he settled in his seat and let out an exasperated sigh, “Wait… You guys are being for real? Why would a bunch of repairmen-”

“They’re not repairmen! They’re from Hawkins lab, and they’re after us because we have her!”

Your eyes turned toward the small girl, her brows furrowed slightly as her dark eyes watched you with a type of fear you’d never seen before. They were being serious.

Sitting up straighter, you shook your head, “I haven’t seen any guys in any trucks, but I came through the woods. Have you told Hopper? He could-”

“Lando Calrissian!” Dustin bellowed, a finger pointing at Lucas.

“The dude from ‘Star Wars’?” You questioned, forehead creasing in confusion at the boy's sudden outburst.

Dustin’s eyes somehow widened as his mouth fell open, “We finally meet a chick who’s into science and ‘Star Wars’, and we’re gonna die! How is this fair? How is this just?”

“Ok, first of all, Curly, don’t call me a chick. You’re like, what? Ten?”

“-I’m twelve-”

“-I don’t care. And second of all, Hopper isn’t going to betray you. If you’ve contacted him and he knows about these… bad men, he’ll keep you safe.”

The sound of approaching cars caused all of you to turn and look out of the window, Lucas’s hand grabbing your jacket to tug you down with the rest of them when they’d realized it wasn’t, in fact, Hopper.

“What was that you were saying about him keeping us safe?” Dustin asked, hiding behind a half-broken seat.

“Are you sure these guys are the bad men?”

The little girl nodded, her coffee-colored eyes felt like they were penetrating your soul as she spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper, “Bad men.”

You nodded before inhaling slowly, moving into a crouch as you crept toward the front of the bus, hands wrapping around the discarded pipe,

“What the hell are you doing?” Mike whispered, eyes wide as he watched you.

The little girl’s clear trepidation caused a field of goosebumps to burst through your skin, and despite barely knowing these kids, with the exception of Lucas, you believed them.

“Your bikes are under the bus, they’ll know you’re here. Just… Hold out until Hopper gets here. You can trust him, I promise.”

You held up your finger in a silent attempt to hush them as you crept a little more forward, taking up a crouched position at the front of the bus, peering out of the window before quickly ducking back down.

They had found the bikes.

As the broken door creaked open, you tightened your sweaty grip around the pipe, chest heaving as you watched the man appear in front of you. His eyes narrowed slightly, definitely not expecting to see you there right before the loud thunk of metal echoed around the small bus, the man dropping to the floor as blood began to pour from his temple, staining the dirt. The same blood that had splattered down the sleeve of your jacket.

Sharp gasps fell from the boys' mouths, whispered curses only stopping when a commotion could be heard from outside as you pulled the door together before raising the pipe behind you once more.

The door creaked open, and you swung. Your breath caught in your throat as a large hand gripped the now bloodied pipe, blue eyes wide as the man flinched away from you,

“What the hell, kid?”

The car ride was silent as everyone's eyes flittered around, unsure glances between friends as they sat ramrod straight, crushed together in the back of Hopper’s cruiser.

Your eyes, however, remained unfocused on the road ahead as darkness quickly swept across the town, your body finally rid of adrenaline, the events of the junkyard playing dangerously over and over in your mind, causing your hands to shake.

“What the hell were you doing out there, kid?”

Blinking a few times, you tried your hardest to stop any tears from falling, “I was looking for my bike.”

“Yeah, I found it,” he huffed in annoyance, rubbing a hand over his face to scratch his beard, “I saw it all mangled and thought… I thought that thing had got you.”

You felt like you were trying to swallow down a lump of barbed wire, leaving your throat sore, and tight and scratchy, “It was deer blood. Last night… Nancy said she saw a dying dear.”

Releasing a deep sigh, Hopper tipped the brim of his hat back a little, eyes darting to his mirror where he watched the group of kids sit silently in the backseat before he turned off toward the Byers house.

“What’s wrong, kid? Normally by now you’d of cursed me out at least three times and threatened to roll out of the car.” Hopper tried to joke, but his tone still felt too heavy. He still felt too guilty.

You were silent for a moment, watching the headlights illuminate the driveway,

“Did I kill him?”

Now it was Hopper’s turn to remain silent as he processed your question, unsure of how to mollify you, or if he even could. The silence continued as the house came into view, and you barely took note of the door opening, Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy all dashing out onto the porch.

Killing the engine, Hopper placed an arm over the back of your seat, turning toward the kids, “Go see Joyce. We’ll be out in a minute.”

You felt the group's eyes on you as they were all ushered out, and whether their expressions were filled with pity or fear, you really couldn’t tell at that moment. You watched as Nancy embraced her brother awkwardly, the rest of the group hanging around for yourself and Hopper to vacate the vehicle.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Hopper finally turned to you, and the look in his eyes alone told you all you needed to know.

“He was going to kill all of you. He was gonna kill a bunch of innocent kids. So if you ask me, you did the world a favor-”

Turning toward the man, he finally saw your eyes, red and brimming with tears that were threatening to fall, “did I kill him, Hopper? Yes or no.”

“Kid-”

“Hopper…”

“He was a bad guy, alright? He-”

“Please, Hopper. Please.”

The crack in your voice halted any more of his attempts to comfort you. If he didn’t say it, maybe you wouldn’t believe it. Maybe you’d never know, and then maybe you’d be okay. But staring into your crest-fallen eyes as you practically begged him for the truth, hands shaking in your lap as your fingers tugged at the sleeves of your jacket, he knew he couldn’t lie to you. You already knew the answer.

Gripping the steering wheel so tight that the skin stretching over his knuckles paled and the rubber underneath them creaked, threatening to break, he finally answered,

“Yes.”

You were unable to hold in the sob as it forced its way past your lips, chin wobbling as the dam finally broke and tears began to almost pour down your cheeks.

“But listen, kid, and I know that’s not your forte, but listen, alright?” Hopper unbuckled your belt and turned you, his large hands settling at the top of your shoulders and squeezing reassuringly, an attempt to ground you, to pull you back and realize that you weren’t alone. He was here,

“That guy was a dead man walking. Because if you hadn’t done what you did, he’d have killed those kids out there, and yourself. And then I would’ve killed him.”

Your eyes darted towards the group of children that Joyce had begun to usher into the house, a protective arm around them as only a mother would. You caught the little girl’s eyes once more, wide and worried but fixed on you.

Your attention was pulled back toward Hopper as he continued, “You killed a bad guy. And only the good guys, kill bad guys, alright? By doing what you did… You saved five lives. And that is what is important. That is what you need to focus on because right now… I need your help to save one more.”

[orionchildofhades]

steddie swapping soulmate au part 14

part 1 |[...]| part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | Ao3

---

Time passes.

Steve and Robin unexpectently grow closer, some mutual understanding and rather uncomfortable first meetings (mainly due to their switches happening far more often than Eddie's and Steve's) leading them to a profound friendship.

Steve is glad for it.

After his initial hurt, he found that Robin's friendship was far more valuable than the others he had been nurturing throughout his life, far more consitent and honest than the whispered rumours and mean laughs thrown at the expense of others.

Steve, for a while, kind of forgets about Eddie. The only reminder of his being his soulmate are Robin, usually holding a dangerous glare through the cafeteria when she sees him doing his theatrics and spitting on the jocks -and honestly everyone else that is not part of his little Dungeon game.

The year ends without flourish expet the rumours of Robin and Steve dating.

That happened in a rather catastrophic mess of events when Robin was being violently picked on by some guy who had tried to ask her out and were calling her names, and making some horrendous promises to help her 'turn back'. Steve had rushed there, he had previously been foaming with anger near his locker, and stepped in before Robin to tell them to back off. Things had escalated until Steve felt forced to say that they were dating. The bastards had soon left after that, apologising to him of all things.

Robin had cried that day, so tiny in his arms and had admitted that maybe, only maybe, people thinking they were romantic soulmates was not that bad because she honestly couldn't deal with it sometimes.

Steve had wondered how it felt. Because he was a year older and was part of the cool kids and even if some people liked to joke about being bent or queer or fags or God knew what, nothing had ever felt quite as scary as watching Robin stuck between them.

So now people were sure than Robin and Steve were a thing, and girls kept sending him looks before whispering how far beneath him Robin was, or how they couldn't understand what he saw in her, but at the very least summer was coming and they'd both be free from all the heavy glare.

Robin had actually met Steve's parents, both when they had switched and later been asked to come for dinner and even if she was not part of the 'proper society' his parents were so keen on having close, they could admit that she had some potential. The fake couple had not shared with them the fact that Robin played soccer and played the French Horn out of all things because honestly Steve did not want to bother with it. His father believed that only men should play sports and his mother was a fervant believer than the piano was the only good instrument there was for a young lady, or perhaps the harp if one really wanted to get out of their way to be extra.

Out of everything, life was pretty peaceful. Robin had helped Steve study during their so called 'dated', and she had also got Steve playing soccer with her. He still hang out with Tommy and Carole but he didn't really bother trying to stay with the rest of the rising popular gang. They had promised each other to leave Hawkins, for college first, but then to find a nice place, open minded and accepting, for Robin to officially go on the dating market because "Steve, I can't do anything here, you don't understand how the girls are here. Even if some are pretty, they are so...Hugh". Her last point had not been exactly clear as she had thrown her arms in the air before collaping back on the table. Nonetheless, Steve was ready to follow.

It all crashes down when Steve and Eddie swap for the third time when Will Byers goes missing.

[fountainpenguin]

What's your fav [or one of your favorite] scenes in Frayed Knots and/or Origin of the Pixies?

Thanks for the Ask!

One of my favorite Origin chapters is Chapter 42, "The Unicorn Years." Sanderson is finally an adult and it shows in how he sticks up for himself and calls H.P. out on his procrastination habits. He's no longer the suck-up he used to be, and their duality is great:

I lay across my desk, hands grasping the far side. That's what I was doing when Sanderson pinged in. "How much have you written, sir?" he asked primly. He didn't try to suggest he'd been pushy and overbearing this morning, but the milkshake in his hand was a peace offering. That was obvious enough. "Um…" I looked down. "I have 'Hawkins, I like how you made square motions instead of pretty elf swirls' and 'Wilcox, if eggs didn't suck, you'd be an egg.' Um. It's a first draft." I think he muffled a snort. "And mine, sir?" "Oh… yeah. I forgot you were getting one too. I'll start it later." He shook the vanilla milkshake a bit, and I finally swiped it from his hand. "Compliments aren't my thing, Sanderson. And truthful critiques on Day 1 might shatter them. I'll get into the flow one of these days, but breaking the ice is hard. What did you tell them?" "Boss, I'm going to stop you right there because that would be plagiarism." He hovered behind my shoulder, sipping from his straw… then grabbed the papers from my desk and pinged away. Okay, wow. I flopped back in my chair, kicking up my legs. Knowing him like I did, there wasn't a doubt in my mind he was presenting those to Hawkins and Wilcox right now, articulate or not. Sanderson's a person who gets things done stupid early and then sits on his buns all week waiting for new instructions. I may struggle with procrastination, but at least I do useful stuff during said procrastination time. Who's more successful each day, I ask you. But, I got my preening circle after lunch on Friday. The instant they all left, I pinged to my office and scribbled my reports. It pleased me like nothing else to thrust those into Sanderson's hands when I saw him in the hall. "Here. Shove these in your uptight pouch and do a backflip, punk." "How many words?" he asked, scanning them. "400 apiece." "I wrote 800." He broke a smile when I yanked the reports back and smacked them at his head. Stupid punk kid.

^ This is quintessential Sanderson (to me)...

In "Unicorn Years," Sanderson finally recognizes his role as alpha retinue drone (i.e. that it's a legit high-ranking role in Fae society and his co-workers respect and report to him- it's not a fake title H.P. made up because of his separation anxiety).

That moment H.P. tells Sanderson the reason Hawkins and Wilcox are nervous is because they want to impress Sanderson, not him... That's /chef's kiss.

In the next chapter ("Letters and Numbers"), Sanderson cuts a deal with H.P. that he's willing to give up his alpha drone status as long as he gets to keep his music. I really like how I showed how Sanderson values his job, appreciates the status, and is good at this job all in one chapter before he throws it into the void. Love that for him.

Chapter 34 of Knots is a favorite. I really like the migration arcs, especially the recent one in the mid-30 chapters. I love when Anti-Cosmo mingles with other Anti-Fairies and speaks in Vatajasa. I love him asking his relatives for interspecies love life advice- It's such a contrast to H.P., who was tossed out of his family just for being born with freckles.

I like when he asks his nana about her Fairy ex-husband and she straight-up tells him that if he's into fairy wings, he's better off finding an Anti-Fairy willing to dress in costume. Such a slap in the face and it fuels him with stubborn rage.

I love how Anti-Cosmo flits around migration blatantly explaining to the reader all the convoluted reasons why he's totally not cheating on his betrothed. He's such a mess.

I love Prince Eastkal demanding that his anti-fairy counterpart be brought to meet him and Anti-Cosmo just stands there in shock at how rude and inappropriate it is to show up and expect Anti-Eastkal can drop everything to meet with him. It's not a big moment, but those hints of culture and Anti-Cosmo experiencing things that H.P. wouldn't think about in Origin are my favorites.

I like the conflict between Anti-Cosmo and Jorgen when Anti-Cosmo absolutely refuses to admit that he saved Prince Eastkal's life several chapters ago. I like Jorgen's dawning realization that Anti-Cosmo got arrested for being over the border... Jorgen's starting to put the pieces together.

I appreciate how Anti-Cosmo stands up for his culture and his friends but he's also just blatantly sexist because that's how he was raised in Anti-Fairy World.

The parallel of Anti-Cosmo calling out racial inequality H.P. is oblivious to while H.P. calls out gender inequality that A.C. overlooks really emphasizes that both societies are flawed and you can compare and contrast the cultures... I like the worldbuilding a lot.

[Cnt'd under the cut] -

I really like the scene at the end of Knots Chapter 35 where Anti-Cosmo visits H.P. to get a letter of recommendation for school :)

I like how Sanderson comes to the door all groggy and it's not even because he was sleeping, it's because he was carving soap sculptures.

I like Sanderson pausing before knocking on the wooden door to ask Anti-Cosmo if that will give him a migraine and Anti-Cosmo being surprised that Sanderson thought about that.

In Origin, H.P. regularly diminishes Sanderson's abilities in an attempt to deny connection and/or excuse his own neglect towards Sanderson. Anti-Cosmo gives Sanderson all the dues he's owed (and will continue to do so for the rest of the story).

In the 130 Prompts, Sanderson's relationship with A.C. is very complicated... so I like slipping in these foreshadowing clues so that when everything breaks loose later, you can see these hints of why Sanderson starts to waver in his loyalty and why Anti-Cosmo tolerates him.

I also like Sanderson's comment that if H.P. is "too busy to find out what Sanderson wants, he's too busy to be mad that Sanderson made his own decisions." Even sleepy, Sanderson is better at handling things than he's normally allowed to be- he is the alpha drone in the retinue, after all.

I love how Anti-Cosmo notices that H.P. went out of his way to design hotel rooms for Anti-Fairy visitors even though Anti-Fairies are banned from visiting. It foreshadows H.P.'s upcoming neutrality and we start leaning into the reasons why H.P. and Anti-Cosmo are future allies and friends- because H.P. (for all his horrendous cultural blunders) will still make the effort to cater to others' needs).

I love the entire concept of A.C. asking H.P. for a letter of rec even though they barely know each other. All those side mentions of babysitting from earlier chapters came back to pay off.

I love the breakfast scene, especially H.P. talking about Iris:

"If she was after money, she wouldn't have turned me down when I tried to court her. I'm very desirable. By the way, her toxic trait is that she roots for the Centipedes in saucerbee and their roster totally sucks. Other than that, she's pretty dazzled." "You're interested in courting her?" I asked, pulling back. "Oh. I thought you were a…" The Head Pixie turned to look at me again, stone-faced. "Be very careful in considering how you want to end that sentence, Anti-Cosmo."

H.P.'s choppy cadence (with all his random casual words) is my favorite to write. I also think it's hilarious that he's still pining after Iris but doesn't even ask A.C. to put in a good word for him to her (in return for the letter of rec). Instead, he just wants A.C. to help Iris network. It's the little things... He cares.

I love how A.C. is so smart and yet so oblivious. He spends the story thinkin the Pixie race is dying out. Absolute shock to him when he finds out their population is reproducing exponentially. My dude, how did you screw this one up. No one can be more wrong than you.

H.P. tells him to his face "I don't experience attraction" and A.C. twists that in his mind to mean "He's embarrassed to admit he likes someone." It's one of those little things that Anti-Wanda gets and A.C. doesn't. I love the A.W.-H.P. dynamic so much.

I really like the bit where Anti-Cosmo asks H.P. for interspecies romantic advice and H.P. turns a circle, clearly looking for something, leaves, then comes back with nothing. Just... dipped.

Literally everything about the A.C.-H.P. dynamic is comedy gold to me. There are a few specific instances where Anti-Cosmo gets to take shots at H.P. and embarrass him, but it's usually H.P. being snarky towards A.C. and it cracks me up. Look at them:

"Show affection someplace nice and she'll want to keep coming back. Don't be weird and kiss at the grocery store or in an old shed or you'll be stuck circling back around to it. And if you want something long-term to come out of this, then you'd better build a yidreamu. Traditionally it's the partner with the smaller lift who builds it, so…" He stopped then, surveying my crown. "… Yikes. Start clipping coupons, maybe." I reached up to graze my black crown with my fingertips, my face flushing dark with cold. I did have a pathetic lift, barely two finger widths above my head, but did he really have to say it? "Th-thank you for the advice… That's all I need to know, really."

I like how we had that previous chapter where Anti-Lance called H.P. out for being "a creep" towards the much younger Anti-Cosmo- which is very justified! But also, they just hang out like this:

"Back in the Spring of the Silver Silk, I placed a curse on you that prevents flowers from lasting more than one night under your roof. I believe we confirmed said curse was still active this past migration. Did you find the counter-spell?" "No. I just started keeping commelinas in my house because they die in like, one day anyway, so it's not a waste. I'm giving them a home." "Why do you bother replacing them?" The older pixie looked at me, caught off guard despite his practised pixie patience. I could tell. "Because it means I win. Here." He took one of the blue flowers from the vase and handed it to me. "For you." [...] "Your attention to detail is impeccable," I remarked, twirling the commelina in my hand. "Thanks. I'm imprisoned by obsessive compulsions, severe hyperfixations, and crippling executive dysfunction."

H.P. is so stubborn. He's so shocked that Anti-Cosmo would even ask him why he bothered. He's so blinded to his own quirks. It's great.

I like how H.P. straps Anti-Cosmo in a bungee cord harness and lets him steer his cloudship, but in the far future, Anti-Cosmo never lets Foop drive his cloudship. It's just a fun, dynamic chapter all around.

My writing style has improved a lot since I started this 'fic, but I still like Chapter 2. I really like how it opens with Anti-Cosmo being dragged down the hall by his foot and forced to commit emergency marsupial pouch-slicing rescue procedures.

I love starting longfics off with that reminder that you're in for something weird, so if you can't tolerate this splash of weirdness upfront, the rest of the 'fic won't be to your tastes either. Frayed Knots really throws you in and I like it for that.

[allexthakatt]

Dance of Death

Okay, so I've been (like everyone else) absolutely in LOVE with Mr. Eddie Munson! And I just needed to join the fanfic party.

Also yes I know Dance of Death came out in 2008 but for this fic let's just pretend it came out in 1983 with Peace of Mind, okay?

Anyone that knows me, knows that my all time favorite band is Iron Maiden. And a certain song popped in my head while thinking of storylines. I hope this is adequate, it's very late 😅

PAIRING: Eddie Munson x FEM! HISPANIC! Reader!

WARNINGS: A mention of racism, but nothing explicit. Jason, because he needs a warning 🙄. Bullies are ew.

CONTENT: ANGST, Seemingly unrequited love, Dustin being the very bestest friend ever! Ending in fluff!

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

There was something about him. Something that made her lose all brain function to act normally. There isn't a thing he could do wrong in her eyes. Edward Munson. The name alone made her blush. How could she not? There's just something about him...

Could it be his messy long hair? His rock and roll style? His sense of humor? His love and care for his friends? The was he defends her so easily and so often? Who knows, actually.

She'd hadn't known him that long. The beginning of her second senior year (not meeting requirements to graduate the first time), his third. Right off the bat she wasnt accepted in most friend groups. Her coming from a whole other state, well away from the tiny secluded town that is Hawkins, Indiana. Not to mention she's one of the only Hispanic people in the high school in general. It also didn't help that she dressed all in black all the time. No one really cared enough to look her way, outright avoiding her to some extent. She's the new kid on the block, she understood that much. Why no one bothered to befriend her was a whole new experience.

Her pervious town was just outside Juarez, Mexico. Her whole neighborhood was so welcoming, never letting her feel left out of the festivities that went on in school. Here? In Hawkins? It felt like she was ghost. A ghost no one liked or wanted around. A certain Jason Carver particularly wasn't fond of her. Him and his petty group of friends would go out of their way to make her day worse. Shouting names, "accidentally" bumping into her in the hallways, going as far to spill his drink on her occasionally. She still keeps a change of clothes in her locker just in case.

She had been on her own those first two months. Hating every minute of it, wishing she could just go back home. It had been a particularly rough day with Jason when two freshmen had seen enough. Jason and his bully buddies had just pushed her to ground, kicking her backpack before laughing and walking away. She'd been humiliated, defeated, just wanting to cry in the bathroom. The two young boys bent down to help her pick up her things, introducing themselves as Dustin and Mike. The boys were her first friends. Sure, they were younger, but they'd been the only ones to show her kindness so far.

It had been a week after that they'd introduce her to the Hellfire Club. Jeff and Gareth welcomed her right away, interested in her culture and language. Lucas didn't mind her really, being a little preoccupied trying to get on the good side of the basketball team. Eddie, however, was absolutely smitten. She was everything he'd want in a woman. Someone he related to in many ways. She didn't live with her parents, her grandma taking her in after a falling out between the family. She loved rock, she played the drums, and was so. fucking. funny. Why hadn't he noticed her before?

Now, all those months later, they were all good friends. She finally felt like she found her people. Her little family in this swarm of assholes that flooded the school. Sure, Jason and his stupid gang still messed with her. But nothing could truly brings her down if Hellfire could pick her back up.

Senior prom was coming up, and although she didn't have a date, she was secretly hoping Eddie would ask her. The one person she'd put up with prom for. She'd do anything for him, honestly. There was a million reasons not to go to prom, but if Eddie was going? That was the one reason to go.

Her hope was dwindling, however. She'd noticed earlier that day a miss Chrissy Cunningham slip a note in Eddie's locker. That was out of the ordinary, considering she was a part of Jason's little clique. She was nice, Y/n guessed. Never joining her past boyfriend in the harassment toward her but never putting a stop to it either. Eddie had mentioned once or twice that he used to have a liking for Chrissy, but that was in middle school. Y/n was hoping the little note was for anything but prom.

Lunch came, and everyone was sitting at their claimed table. Everyone except for Eddie. Something Jeff caught on to first. "Where the hell is Eddie? Lunch is halfway done." To that everyone looked around. "Maybe he had a deal going on today." Jareth added in. "Doubt it. It's the middle of the school day, he wouldn't take the risk." Jeff and Gareth continued going back and forth, Y/n getting too lost in her head to keep up with what they were saying. He's never late for lunch. Where could he be?

"Speak of the devil. It's about damn time, man. We need to plan for tonight!" Dustin spotted him walking up to the table. There was something about him that was different. She'd never seen that smile before, a light flush on his face along with it. He shrugged off Dustins complaint. "We'll get to the planning in a minute, Henderson. I got big news right now!" Everyone at full attention, egging him to tell the big news.

"I'm going to prom!" Y/n's jaw dropped a little. Going to prom? With who? "Really? Who's the lucky lady, huh? Who?!" Mike was eager to find out who, just as she was. "Chrissy fucking Cunningham. She just asked me like 10 minutes ago!"

She was happy for him, really she was. But in that moment she couldn't smile. She couldn't congratulate him, applaud him, nothing. She felt... Broken. Falling, falling so fast; plummeting to the cold, hard ground and no one could catch her. The only person who noticed her fall is Dustin. He'd been the only one she told about her not-so-little crush on Eddie.

Dustin looked at her with a sympathized expression. Knowing full well she wasn't okay with this. She turned to him, too. Waving her hand with a notion that she's okay. Even though they both know she very much wasn't.

"Damn! That's awesome, man. Congratulations, didn't know you had it in you to pull something like that." The boys were proud of him. Of course they were, it's Chrissy fucking Cunningham. Little miss perfect of Hawkins High. The head cheerleader, straight A's, a slim body, nice personality. Everything that Y/n was not. Nothing made her self confidence shoot down faster than this.

No wonder he'd never ask her to prom. She didn't have anything he wanted. Chrissy did.

She kept her head down. Not having enough emotional energy to keep up a conversation. Just wanting to go home. Perhaps she'll just go home after lunch.

Wait. But then she'd have to just come back anyway for Hellfire tonight. A very important campaign to not only Eddie, but the rest of the boys too. Not to mention Dustin's lecture he'd give her about skipping it. She'd never hear the end of it.

The boys never stopped talking about Eddie "The Freak" Munson going to prom with Chrissy Cunningham. Not really having the heart to hear anymore of this, she stands up to throw her food away. She barely ate. "I'm gonna head to the library, kay? I have some catching up to do on Mr. Kellins paper." Without another word, she makes a bee line to the door.

"Mr. Kellins has a paper due?" Jeff not really getting the hint that she just wanted to leave. Dustin opted to follow her, knowing she'll probably want to vent. He looked up to her, like the big sister he never had. He was protective, odd as it is. To be protective of someone 4 years older than you. She wasn't blood, but he considered her family nonetheless.

Eddie noticed her change in behavior as well. He saw the rush she was in to leave, and Dustin's departure after her. Figuring Dustin would tell him later, he turns back to Jareth, who's bragging how he also got a prom date.

-

"Y/n? Are you okay?" She was in the back of the library, sitting on the floor with a random book in her hand. A book she probably grabbed just to have a reason to be here. "Honestly, Dust? Not really." Her legs are shaking slightly, trying her very hardest not to cry. What's her problem? Its not like she and Eddie are dating, he can go to prom with whoever the fuck he wants.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. He's an idiot for taking Chrissy and not you. A huge one." He tries his best to make her smile, but to no avail. "See that's the thing, Dust. He hasn't seen me. He probably just thinks of me as his sister or some shit. I'm nothing more than one of the boys. That's all I'll ever be." He could hear the heartache in her voice the tears she's kept in for so long. She'd let slip a couple months ago that all the boys she ever liked never liked her back. She called herself 'not traditionally pretty.' He assumed she meant like she wasn't like the pretty girls that got all the dates. Her skin was darker, her body was fuller, her hair was crazier. Boys never looked her way, it had been chipping away at her self esteem for years, Eddie was just the icing on the cake.

Dustin sits next to her, his back leaning on the bookshelf behind them. "Y/n, like I said. He's an idiot. He needs shit spelled out her him to even get it through his head. I know he likes you. Not like one of the guys, either. He really likes you. I know it." Y/n wants to believe him. But there was a voice in the back of her head. If that was true, why was he going with Chrissy and not her?

"Are you going to prom?" Dustin asks. She shakes her head. "What, and see them dancing all close together? Seeing them be like a couple? No fucking thank you. I'm gonna stay home. I wanna practice a new song." Figuring changing the subject to something she loved to do, he asks "What new song?" She perks up a bit and the question. "It's not really new, but Iron Maiden has a song called Dance of Death. I've been wanting to try it out for some time now. What better time than now?" They continue chatting for a bit more until the bell rings, signalling lunch was over and to head to class. Before they went their separate ways, Y/n game Dustin a hug. "Thank you. For checking up on me. I really appreciate it." Dustin hugs her back, "of course, Y/n. You're like a sister to me. I'm not just gonna leave you to cry in the library all alone." She laughs a bit at this, giving him one last squeeze. "I'll see you later, Dust."

-

It was right after school. Dustin, Mike, and Eddie were preparing for Hellfire. "So, you wanna tell me what was wrong with Y/n earlier?" Eddie started up the conversation. He'd tried to track her down after class, but to no avail.

"No." It was fast and a little bit venomous. Dustin was furious as him. How could he not be?! Eddie was tossing aside treasure to get with a nickel. He had no idea the pain he'd been causing Y/n. Even if he did, would he care?

Eddie looks up from the table. "What? Why not?" Mikes listening intently from the side, trying not to intervene. "Because it's her privacy. She's going through something right now and it's not my place to spill the beans. If you wanna know so bad maybe actually talk her." His attitude was showing through, and he didn't mean for it to come out so mean. He's just protective of his best friend.

"Hey, dude, I'm just asking. Kay? No need to get your feathers ruffled." Eddie tries to make the room fun again, cracking a joke at the end. He can't seem to shake this feeling, though. One he can't really pinpoint as to why. There's something wrong with Y/n? She always goes to him about her problems. Why can't she just come to him now?

"Hey guys!" Y/n was the first to arrive, slight red eyes with makeup piled on top of it. Enough for Eddie and Dustin to pick up on it, but not enough to say anything.

"Hey Y/n, we're just setting up now. You're pretty early today." Mike wants to break free of the tension that was currently in the room. "Yeah... I wanted to get here before Jason found me in the hallways again." She internally cringes at the remembrance of what happened last week when he saw her. He tripped her, calling her some racist name he could think of in the moment and then laughed in her face. She didn't think Jason was actually racist, but just wanting to hurt her in any way he can. Or maybe he was, she didn't really care enough to know.

"Carver can choke on a dick. He has no right to harass you the way he does." He's angry, of course he is. The way he's so quick to defend her makes that sparkle of hope shine once more. That is until she remembers that prom is in literally two weeks and he's going, but not with her.

"What can you do, huh? Let's finish setting up, kay?" She sets her bag down and avoids eye contact, ignoring the strange looks she gets from Eddie throughout the night.

-

That was probably the worst end to a campaign ever for her. She was thrown so off her game she died 15 minutes in. Spending the rest of her time just following along and giving advice when needed. God, she just wanted to go home.

Finally walking to her car, she was stopped by a concerned metalhead. "Y/n! Are you okay? You've been... Distant today." He desperately wanted to know what was wrong without pushing her too far.

"I'm fine Eddie. Just wanna go home, okay?" She tries to leave the situation as soon as possible, but Eddie refuses to leave it at that. "But Dustin said you're going through something. Whatever it is you know can talk to me too, right?" Y/n pauses, contemplating her answer. "I'm sure I can, Ed. Please just let go of my arm." He didn't even realize he had a hold on her, quickly letting go. "Just... Y/n don't leave me out of it, okay? I'm here for you, whatever way you need me."

Yeah but the way I need you you don't even want.

"I'll see you later, Ed." She gets in her car and drives off. Leaving Eddie in the parking lot alone.

-

The two weeks flew by like nothing. Eddie and Chrissy spending more time together alone, Y/n opting to take her lunches in the library, not wanting to see the boy she loved with someone much prettier than her. Dustin tries his best being there for her, spending every other day in the library with her.

"She actually changed my grade from a D- to an A! Can you believe that?" Dustin's blabbing about something Suzie did for him, she wasn't really paying attention. "Hey! Y/n! Are you even listening to me?" He claps his hands in front of her, snapping her out of her head.

"Sorry! Sorry! Just zoned out over here." She looked to the side, avoiding eye contact with the freshman. Knowing he'll know exactly what's on her mind. "Is it Eddie again?" Slowly she nodded, not wanting to cry. "Prom is in two days and all Eddie can talk about Chrissy. Chrissy this, Chrissy that. That's all I fucking hear about and I feel like I'm losing my mind. Imagine if Suzie kept talking about some guy that you thought was so much better than you. Wouldn't you be hurt too?"

Dustin nods slowly. Of course he would be. He really likes Suzie, and the the thought of her fawning over someone else made him sad.

"I don't think I'm gonna make it to Hellfire tonight, Dust. Not given what's going on. I think I just gotta get over him. How? I have no clue." The younger boy stands up, "What? But the ending of the cult of Vecna is tonight! What about the campaign?" She looks up at him sadly. "I promise you guys can do it without me. I just don't think I'd be much help tonight." Her voice drops, and it's then and there that Dustin realizes the full extent of her situation.

She's completely in love with him. And he's got his eyes on someone else.

He knew he had to do something. What that was? He didn't know. What he did know was that he hated seeing someone he cared about crying alone in the library. She was broken, lost. Not knowing where to go from here.

"sigh... Promise me you'll try your best to feel better okay?" She smiled softly at him, ruffling up his hair. "I promise, Dust." From that moment, he knew he couldn't keep quiet about this anymore.

-

Hellfire had just finished, not ending on a very high note, but hopeful nevertheless. The only ones left were Eddie and Dustin, deciding it was how or never.

"You're a idiot, Eddie." That caught him off guard. Sure, Dustin had been a little off today, but Eddie figured it was some freshman puberty thing. Not an Eddie thing.

"Excuse me?" Eddie stood up, approaching the younger boy with a confused look on his face. "You heard me. Do you even want to go to prom this year?" Prom? This whole thing was about prom?

"I mean not originally, no. But Chrissy really wants to go so.. Why the hell not, ya know?" Dustin was having none of it, his patience running thin. "You told me you don't even like Chrissy anymore. Why are you so damn hung up on her now of all times?" The room was getting tense.

"Hey. She asked me. I just said yes. It's not like I had bigger plans anyway." It wasn't a lie. He guesses he'd probably be in his room alone that night anyway. Unless Y/n would've wanted to do anything, in that case it was a whole new situation.

"What about Y/n? Do you even are about her anymore?" Dustin stood up from his chair. "What are you talking about? Of course I care about her!" The freshman scoffed, "You have a pretty funny way of showing it. You've been practically ignoring her since Chrissy came in the picture. I bet you barley even noticed she didn't come to hellfire today, huh?"

Of course Eddie noticed. It was the main reason team morale was down, the reason they'd all had retreated the fight. Their best girl and fighter wasn't there. "I did notice actually. I also noticed she hasn't been coming to lunch with us either. AND that no one seems to know the real reason except you. So why don't you just tell me what's really going on, Henderson. Enlighten me."

"She's in love with you, dumbass!"

Quiet. Neither of them breaking the deafening silence that engulfed the room. Dustin was mad, furious even, that Eddie had been so oblivious to the pain he'd been causing her.

"What?" Eddie couldn't believe it. Love? She actually loved him back? Why hadn't she said anything before? Why didn't he say anything before?

It all made sense. Chrissy. Prom. Y/n. That's why Y/n was so distant. He was going to prom, but with Chrissy. Not her.

"Y/n has been heartbroken the last two weeks! She can't even go to lunch because all you talk about is Chrissy. Chrissy Chrissy Chrissy. We get it, you wanna get in Chrissy's pants. But for gods sake, man, think! She sits in the library all alone because that's where she'd rather be than sitting in the cafeteria listening to how much she isn't what you want."

Dustin was about to explode. All the pent up anger was coming out. His brotherly protectiveness showing full scale, and Eddie deserved it all.

How could he be so blind? So stupid?

"Why... How come she never said anything? I-" His thoughts getting jumbled in his head. "She said she didn't wanna destroy the friendship. But Eddie, I'm gonna be honest, I think that's happening anyway." Eddie's heart shatters. The girl of his dreams, the person he'd do anything for. His very reason to keep coming to school! She's hurting, broken, thinking he doesn't care for her, love her.

And it's all his fault.

How could he fix this? It wasn't like he could just snap his fingers and change back time to before Chrissy asked him to prom. Oh how he wished he could do that.

"You're wrong about one thing, Henderson. She is what I want. Hell, she's all I want! Chrissy... I said yes because I didn't think Y/n would want to go, let alone with me." Dustin shakes his head. "Okay? You should've at least made sure before putting her through all of this shit. This is stuff you need to be telling her. Not me!"

"I know! I know! Shit, I don't know how I'm gonna fix this..." Eddie deflates, sitting down with his hands in his face. "I really fucked up, didn't I?" Dustin sits next to him, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Yeah, you did. But on the bright side, you know she likes you back now, right? Now figure out the next move."

-

The night of prom. Tonight. A night full of excitement and adventure for most. But for Y/n, it'll just be a regular Saturday. She'd skipped school the day prior, Opting for a quiet day in to collect herself. Mostly to avoid Eddie at all costs, not sure if she could really handle it.

Eddie had waited in the library for her to show up for lunch that day, hoping to explain everything, but she never showed. He instead got weird glances from the scattered students and librarian, not used to seeing Eddie in a place like a library.

He also waited after school, but gave up after noticing her car nowhere to be seen. Chrissy had found him instead, confused as to why he'd been standing sadly in the parking lot for ten minutes. It was there Eddie told her everything. Why lie? She'd deserved to know the truth too.

Chrissy had initially been disappointed, but came clean as well. Confessing she still had feelings for Jason, and was hoping to just make him jealous by showing up to prom with Eddie. They then had the mutual decision to just stay peers, nothing more. Something that took a huge chunk of weight off of Eddies chest.

Now prom was merely hours away, and Eddie was thinking of a plan. Best case scenario, he proclaims his love and sorries, she forgives him, and they get together and live happily ever after. Worst case scenario, anything other than that.

Y/n had been in the middle of the song when Eddie comes bursting in the room. Her grandma had taken quite a liking toward Eddie, Y/n guesses she's the one who let him in the house.

"Y/n! Please I need to talk to you." He was nervous, anxiety ridden. Hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. Y/n stands up from her drum set, walking past him to her water bottle. "I'm a little busy right now, Ed."

Eddie approaches her, hoping his confession would work. "Just... Hear me out, okay? Please?" She nods at him, praying this is just something that has to do with hellfire.

"I'm not going to prom with Chrissy." Her ears perked up at this. "Okay, so? You came all this way to tell me just that?" She didn't mean to keep up the attitude, but she didn't want to get her hopes up, either.

"I also know why you've been so distant. I know... Everything. I know you're feelings for me and I know how hurt you've been these past weeks. And Y/n I'm so so sorry. I wish I would've seen it sooner." He was staring in her eyes, searching for any kind of response.

"How do you know?" Tears were filling her eyes, she had no idea why. Raw emotion was building up without her consent.

He smiles at her softly, "A little birdie told me." She backs up, tossing her drumsticks on the chair. "Fucking Henderson, man. He can't keep a secret for shit." She'd confided in him, told him all her fears, insecurities, worries. All with the hopes of him keeping it between them. She felt a little hurt, but she can't help but feel a weight lift off her shoulders. Now everything was out in the open, and she could face rejection head on.

"Hey don't be mad him, I needed to know. Boy did he let me know, too. He'd probably have my head on a stick if I wasn't here right now." She laughs slightly. Dustin always acted like an older brother, despite her being 4 years older than he was. Never stopped their bond as family, though.

"Why are you here, Eddie? You couldn't tell me you didn't like me back on Monday?" He grabs her hands, holding them together, close to his chest. "That's the thing, Y/n. I do like you back. Just as much if not more than you like me." He's pleading with his eyes for her to listen, to understand. She shakes her head, looking anywhere but him.

"Eddie, that makes no sense. If that was true why were you going with her to begin with? Why wait 'til two hours before prom to confess your love for me?" He holds her tighter, "I should've told you all this a long time ago, and I'm so sorry, baby. I was scared. Hell, I still am! You're so beautiful it's intimidating. Why would someone as drop dead gorgeous as you like a freak like me?"

She laughs and looks down, tears falling freely now. "We're both freaks, dummy. I was planning on spending the whole night right here on the drums." He places a hand on her cheek, softly stroking it. "If you'd let me, could I join you?"

Their foreheads inch closer together, both of them being highly aware of the distance getting smaller. "What, you don't wanna go to prom?" Smaller. "Not if you're not there, babe." Smaller. "Then stay here with me." Smaller. "Gladly."

The distance is gone, her lips finally on his and it's. fucking. amazing. Nothing had been as sweet as her, or soft as him. It was like 2 pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly together like they were made for each other. Hands starting to roam, but before anything else could happen, breathing was a necessity.

Their foreheads leaning on each other once again. The tension now completely gone, all that's left is a room full of love and adoration. Both of them waiting so long to finally be here in the moment, neither of them wanting to let go just yet.

"So... Wanna show me what song you're playing?"

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

Ahhhhh I'm so proud of this tbh I love Eddie so goddamn much I've never related to someone so much honestly.

Let me know what you think! Love you 😘

[forgetmenots0250]

Platonic Vance Hopper x Steve Harrington HCs

Vance didn’t want to go to that goddamn house so he decided he will wait till midnight to go home

He decided to wait on the curb of some dumb street light

He just got away from getting arrested for beating a guy for messing with his game

He didn’t want to hear that man that is in the law his “father” right now. Not his nagging, not his glaring eyes of hate for something he didn’t do.

He couldn’t help but be away from that man.

If he could he would strangle him till his life ended in his hands but he would much rather not be in cuffs 

They hurt his wrists and would rather not experience them again

Vance sat on the curb with bloody knuckles, from his the guy’s teeth he punched out and the knife that he tried to stab Vance with

He still had the knife in his pocket 

As he sat down on the curb a man walked up to him, he looked young maybe in his early 20s or so

“Hey, you okay kid?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“You’re bleeding, come on let me help you with that at least”

Vance struggled before he inevitably let the dude wrap his knuckles in bandages and then help with the slight scarring on his wrists from the cuffs

The man eventually introduced himself as Steve Harrington and Vance after a “little” bit of convincing introduced himself as Vance Hopper

Steve helped Vance up and took him to some grocery store to get this kid a chocolate bar

After a lot of run-ins with each other Vance finally softened a bit

Steve bought Vance food most of the time and they would eat together 

Steve and Vance found a spot in the woods that was a no man’s land and was perfect

It was an unused railroad that ran above a river that wasn’t too far from the river but a perfect place to jump off from and not feel like you got hit in the stomach when jumping in face first 

The bridge wasn’t connected to any railroads so it was safe to just hang out on it

Steve and Vance would hang out with some candles to warm up and blankets and just listen to music and tell stories 

Vance told Steve about how he was kidnapped and stored in some basement with other kids but in the end, there were only 6 victims 

Steve was horrified to see how calm Vance was about the situation and tried to comfort or at least help him realize it was not just some inconvenience 

“Well I wouldn’t say being kidnapped was the best thing in the world but it was just better than life kinda, it’s hard to explain but it was like life had stopped and kinda peaceful. When I say this I mean like when I wasn’t beaten or… other times.”

Steve teared up and hugged Vance who didn’t really get it and didn’t hug back but definitely didn’t push him off

Steve will admit he had been spending a bit more time with Vance than the other and he will admit that it’s unfair 

But he was so traumatized about this kid's life story, it’s not with the upside down where it sort of only happens in Hawkins but this wasn’t some demo bullshit it was real life where anybody could be kidnapped and it’s a regular occurrence that it’s scary. To know he’s gone through that so he sort of implanted himself as mother hen in Vance’s life

He had no one but himself to blame

Vance discovered that without his pinball machine that he fidgets a lot and even fidget with Steve’s hand before Steve gave him some gadgets to distract himself 

Vance lets Steve braid his hair and it’s a really cute moment where Vance is sipping tea that Steve made and Steve trying to get the angle right so the Bobby pins and such stay and look good

Once the others noticed how Steve seemed to be a bit more busy than usual they follow him a bit and discover Vance

“Hey hippety Hopper! I got you some snacks” Steve had a pep in his step as he almost skipped over the bridge 

“Call me that again and I will stab you Steve, don’t forget about my sociopathic tendencies.” Vance glared at Steve with a playful yet serious statement like he could do that but not to Steve 

“Right right now tell me you wanted to talk about your friends? Or the kids with you in the basement” Steve sat down next to Vance opening the bag in his hands 

“Yeah… well, we sort of had a click since we were all kidnapped and stuff so we sort of just stayed together. I think I remember you saying that it’s a trauma response can’t remember, anyway. There’s this boy whose name is Griffin, he’s a few years younger than me and he was one of the ones with me… he’s a small kid and he doesn’t have any friends and I feel bad. I don’t know why but it’s irritating not knowing and it’s got me angry why I feel bad even though I’m sure he doesn’t have a bad home life or anything so it just makes me angry that I feel this way.” Vance talked with pauses as if thinking about how to talk he spoke about his feelings and also fidgeted with Steve’s hand a lot more 

“It’s okay to feel that way so what do you do in this group? Hang out or something?” Steve leaned back to lay on the wooden bridge and Vance soon accompanied him 

“I guess we sort of just hang out in the abandoned house down the road. It used to be the high schoolers hang out before we showed up, I’m pretty sure it's because of me” Vance didn’t seem upset actually kinda proud of himself which reminded Steve of a certain someone he once knew

Vance continued to talk about the others and how they were called the Casper crew for looking like ghosts but it stuck and they take pride in it

Vance talked about being injured and helping the kid who killed their kidnapper and how he had to be carried by another injured guy (Robin) 

Steve when he heard the name Robin immediately went to his coworker robin and told stories about her

Vance listened attentively as Steve ranted 

Max was surprised at how fucking identical Vance was to billy and how his style resembled Eddie, it made some cry while others were completely shocked. 

Vance decided to go a bit early to go to his friend's house so they had their goodbyes early 

Once Steve noticed the party he yelled at them for being so late in the night

[leagueofleaguesff]

Ricky (3-4) Record 8th Place

Frankenstein ⚡

Slick is in 8th place in the thick of the 3-4 mangled mess. The UpsideDowners team is actually just that. How apropos.

Minor setbacks have accumulated enough to have Slick in the Upside Down category. Hopefully he can muster up a strategy to get back into Hawkins mode.

Slicks roster stays stuck in injury purgatory. Bateman. Conner, Dotson, St Brown.... Rick will have to definitely roster more waiver adds or look into trades. Maybe with luck, some of the hurt players return this week in time for a push.

Ricks head must be spinning with the confirmation of Breese Halls season ending injury. Yet another key player on his roster hurt - but this stings the most.

A reload of sorts is in order. The McKenzie waiver add and pick up of Matt Ryans replacement can hopefully do enough to sustain his body. Slick will slowly peace together his roster to put himself in the best chance to win each week.

Slick shouldn't be bothered as much due to his skill set and aptitude for fantasy. It helps that his standings too far out from Demetri who is just above him with less than 100 pts between the PF column.

Slick hopes to smoke Zero in the week 8 (current) matchup they have. A win can go a long way to getting back on track.

The will to love is the will to lead. Slick has a current lead in week 8 as cause of the Thursday night slate. More work must be done.

Slicks team might be down but it ain't out. Its alive....alive I tell ya!

Take notice of the rise or fall of Rick in the coming weeks. One jolt and watch the monster wreak havoc.

Mosnter Mash trailer of sorts before next recap

Next Recap Below🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻

[steviespanties]

Since Steve’s parents are out of town so often, he and Billy have a habit of hooking up at Steve’s place. Steve’s room is nice and all, but Billy has a thing for fucking Steve in his mom’s bed;; ((HI I LOVE YOUR ACCOUNT AND YOUR STORIES THANK YOU FOR CREATING SUCH MASTERPIECES💖💖))

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH AND ALSO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS!!! (This sent me down an interior decorating rabbit hole trying to figure out what Steve’s mom’s bed- and then her own room might look like😅😂 Please imagine a layout similar to this, but with another window on the other side of the bed for more light. The ‘sofa’ and bed look a lot more like this, but the colors and style are more similar to this and this room.) 2.2k words, rated E. Steve POV, some manhandling, some frottage, some rimming and dirty talk. Anal sex. Ya know. My usual.

Steve’s parents have a big enough house (and are rich enough) that his mom has an entire bedroom for herself. She calls it her boudoir, because it’s where her walk-in closet is and where she keeps all her fancy makeup, lesser used jewelry and perfumes. There’s a massive four-poster bed with floor-length drapes matching the curtains, a chaise lounge, a vanity, all in creamy white and bathed in warm lamp light. 

Before he gets together with Billy, Steve doesn’t even think about it’s existence. It’s just another empty room, after all. The most he sees of the house are the entrance, kitchen, living room and the walk upstairs to his bedroom with his own bathroom. Hell, sometimes it slips his mind that he technically lives in what counts in Hawkins as a mansion.

Billy, however, becomes obsessed with the ‘boudoir’ in particular. 

The first time he's supposed to really stay over, not just crash in Steve’s room and fuck him into his bed at 3am, he steps through the front entrance, whistles after a survey of the hallway and goes “Aren’t you gonna show me around?”

“Yeah, sure. Just take a pair of house shoes from over there.” Steve gestures towards the shoe rack in question and Billy’s expression goes from amused to disbelieving.

“Seriously?”

Steve glares at him. “Yeah. Seriously. My parents put in new flooring over the summer and now everything has to look pristine for the two times a year they have visitors over.”

It's such an unnecessary, stupid rule to enforce all of a sudden when Steve has rarely worn shoes around the house anyways. 

He’s barefoot when it’s warm outside and leaves his shoes by the front door to change into thick wool socks during the cold months. And somehow, his parents still have found a new way to make him feel like he’s walking on eggshells in his own home.

Still, he watches Billy sullenly take off his shoes with growing amusement that gradually lightens the bad mood Steve’s gotten into just thinking about it. He figures he can give Billy a quick tour of the house and then order pizza. Watch a movie, fuck in an actual bed instead of getting each other off in the cramped backseats of their cars.

What happens instead is that Billy spends a ridiculous amount of time dragging Steve through his own home. He looks into guest rooms. Shoves his nose into cabinets. Looks out of windows like he’s staking out the neighborhood. (Woods. The neighborhood is mostly woods.)

“What are you, a spy?” Steve jokingly asks when Billy lifts up a painting to peek behind, like he’s looking for a safe. Billy scoffs, all mock-offended. But Steve can see a hint of a blush form on his cheeks. Gotcha. It’s kinda sweet how curious he is about the place, even if his main complaint is that it “feels like a show house.” Steve doesn’t have the heart to point out that he’s not too far off.

It’s when they step into his mom’s room that a predatory glint enters Billy’s eyes. “Ohh, is this where Mama Harrington sleeps?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. She wanted a room to get ready ‘in peace’. I’m pretty sure she just wants to drink prosecco in peace.” He watches Billy’s fingers trail over the fabric of one of the creamy white curtains framing the window. They part and his rings glint in the sunlight he’s suddenly bathed in. When he turns back around his hair is lit up gold and frames his head like a halo. Steve licks his lips. The fun thing about dating Billy is that he not only matches Steve in terms of libido, but seems to have a sixth sense for the moment Steve’s thoughts get distracted by his gorgeous everything.

Or maybe Steve just isn’t very subtle.

That glint in Billy’s eyes turns into hungry laser focus. Sets him into motion until he’s all pressed against Steve, a hot line of unrelenting muscle pushing him closer to the bed until they tip over and onto the mattress. Half hidden by more curtains hanging from the canopy. Sunlight follows them.

White teeth flash in an easy grin, quick and sweet, and then Billy’s lips are on Steve’s. His body weight pushes Steve into the creamy white bed cover and the air out of his lungs in a huffed laugh. Underneath him the texture of the blanket- distinct raised ribbing- digs into his skin. Billy’s hands dig into his hair.

The slick heat of Billy’s mouth and his thigh shoved between Steve’s legs is intoxicating. Makes it impossible to form a coherent thought when his focus narrows down on Billy on top of him, curls just long enough to fall down and tickle Steve’s face. He makes the most delicious sound when Steve grabs his ass and pulls him closer, till their hips are lined up just right. Steve pulls. Billy pushes. Like a conversation in a language purely made of heat and pressure, hitching breaths and choked moans. Against his own growing erection, painfully trapped in his jeans, he can feel Billy fill out as well. The pleasure is maddening. Enough to make Steve feel a burst of wetness pulse from his dick into his underwear. Enough to make him roll his hips up, searching for a better angle.

“Billy,” he sighs, not sure what he wanted to say afterwards. Just enjoys saying his name.  

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” Billy complains in response, like he picked up whatever thought Steve dropped in the minuscule space between them. They break out into a familiar flurry of limbs and discarded clothes. A condom packet and a small bottle of lube make it from Billy’s discarded jacket onto the comforter next to Steve’s head. He snorts.

“You sure you weren’t a boy scout at some point? Feels like you’re always prepared to get your dick wet.”

Billy rolls his eyes, fond smile belying his annoyance. “Shut up. Turn around.” His voice has taken on that deep, rough tone indicating how much he’s turned on. Steve leans back instead, takes his dick in hand. Enjoys the rough drag of his dry palm when he drags it up in a loose grip. Just enough to tease.  Billy raptly follows the movement. “Maybe I will if you ask me nicely.”

Oh, he loves this game. Put up a token bit of protest when Billy gets bossy, until he gets impatient and starts dragging Steve around until he’s nothing but putty underneath his hands.

“Show me your pretty hole, babe. I won’t ask again.” 

Steve’s dick pulses in his hand. He watches Billy with half-lidded eyes. The way his muscles shift, getting ready to move. Hungry and powerful, like a big wildcat.

In the next second, he’s on Steve. Makes him gasp out an involuntary yelp when he easily flips him and drags him up by his hips. Until he’s on his knees, face buried in the bed cover and hot breath suddenly ghosts over his hole. There’s barely enough time to reorient himself before the scratch of Billy’s mustache and the slick warmth of his tongue press into his crack.

“Ah, fuck yes.”

He’s never done this before Billy. Not with any of the girls he fucked or dated. Not with Tommy, who he’s traded sloppy, shameful handjobs and blowjobs with. He doesn’t think he can ever get enough of feeling Billy’s tongue on his rim, swirling around until he’s dripping with saliva. Pushing inside where he’s sensitive, pressure and stretch of his hole making him squirm and push his hips back immediately.

It’s almost embarrassing how greedy he is for Billy’s mouth on him. His lips wrapped around his dick. His tongue shoved deep into his hole, held in place by those warm hands on his asscheeks. Holding him open so Billy can get even deeper, making him moan and drool into the blanket beneath him. It’s like a pulse, curls into him till his dick pushes out another spurt of precome and he can feel himself twitch, heavy and aching between his legs.

A slicked up finger joins Billy’s tongue. Makes the stretch just a bit more intense, but still so, so good. Billy only comes up for air when he adds a second finger. Steve can feel him rest his cheek on his ass, probably watching the movement of his fingers up close. He seems to have a thing for the sight of Steve’s rim stretched, his hole filled up and glistening.

“Gonna make you a complete mess in your mom’s bed,” Billy huffs into his skin. “Gonna make you cry and cream yourself all over her sheets.” He thrusts deeper and stretches his fingers until they tug at Steve’s hole and he groans with the ache.  “Better get going then,” he tries to taunt. It falls flat with all that desperation laced through his words.  The thing is, provoking Billy only gets you so far. Steve can tease him into impatience, but once he’s fully grasped control, he revels in it. Basks in Steve’s frenzied, futile attempts at irritating him. Like he’s had his chance, but the game is already won.

Steve doesn’t mind losing that much anyways.

“Just you wait,” Billy says fondly.

All Steve can focus on for a while is that glorious, slick movement of Billy’s fingers. The way he pushes in and out of him, stretches his rim and his insides, rubs over that spot inside of him that makes him frantically claw at the textured bed cover underneath him. Just long enough to make him whine and push back, pulse around a third finger that stretches him even wider.

At some point, when he’s reduced to a sweat-slick line of tightly wound pleasure, he finds himself empty. Barely registers the sound of a ripped open condom wrapper. Warm, humid breath over his spine that wanders up up up until there’s lips and teeth on his shoulder and Billy’s cock slowly pushes inside.

There’s a growing spot of drool-wet fabric his face presses into that swallows some of his moans. When Billy moves, satisfied sighs and barely coherent praises tumbling from his lips, Steve grasps the bed cover tight. 

Billy’s hips find a rolling, unrelenting rhythm. The drag of his cock is a drug Steve can’t get enough of. Dreams about, just as much as he dreams about the tight heat of Billy around his dick.

He wishes he could turn around and admire Billy’s flushed face. Hold him between his spread legs. Get lost in his eyes and dizzy from his freckles. But Billy’s weight on his back and his mouth sucking hickeys into the back of his neck isn’t bad either. He tries to hold himself up, tries to concentrate on carrying that weight on his back, but with each thrust inside it’s like his knees spread wider and his elbows sink down until he’s pressed flat onto the bed. And then his dick makes contact with the bed cover and gets pushed right into it right along Billy’s thrusts.

“Ah!” The moan is embarrassingly loud. Louder than any other noise he’s made so far. Of course, Billy picks up on it.

“You gonna be a good boy and blow your load all over your mommy’s sheets?”

“Shut- shut up, fuck.” Billy just laughs, voice shot to hell.

Even if Steve wanted to, he can’t escape that mouthwatering pleasure the additional drag of rough fabric against his dick provides. Because even if he wanted to try, he can’t pull away from Billy’s weight on top of him. His heavy, thick cock inside of him that holds him open and fills him up.

He comes with a sob. Pushes his face harder into wet fabric. Pushes his dick through his own mess. Pushes his hips back to meet Billy’s thrusts, even when it becomes just a bit too much.

Billy rests his entire weight on him when he comes with a deeply satisfied groan. Through their aftershocks, he buries his face in Steve’s hair and they rest in companionable silence.

It’s not the last time they end up fucking on that bed, no matter how many times Steve complains about the laundry with flushed cheeks.

...

Steve isn’t enough of an idiot to not understand that Billy likes to fuck him in his mom’s bed because he likes the conquest of a room that’s ‘forbidden’. He’s the same at parties, likes to sneak into rooms he’s not supposed to be in. Likes the thrill of doing something nasty with Steve in a place his mom will walk into and never even suspect what’s happened.

And Billy? Billy doesn’t want to admit it, especially not to Steve’s face, but... the way Steve’s hair looks against the creamy-white sheets in his mom’s bedroom? The soft yellow glow of light, the blush that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck, to his chest faster than it does anywhere else- it’s addictive.

The best part, the one they both like a little too much is what happens afterwards. When the raised ribbing of the bed cover has left indents on Steve’s face where it’s been pressed down. On his arms and knees. On his back, where only Billy can see and trace it for the rest of the night, reverent and sweet.

[ghostspideys-moved]

Autumn in Hawkins [S.H.]

a/n: I wrote this in one go at 4 am so I hope it's good and coherent enough. I wanted to finally write something fall themed, and here we have it!

word count: 1.3k

pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: You and Steve take the Party out to get pumpkins and carve them.

Halloween in Hawkins was not to be taken lightly. The moment October rolled in and the crisp autumn air settled, the townspeople were all too eager to get the decorating started. 

Babysitting the Party meant that you usually joined in on their fall-themed activities, whatever they may be. It was your duty, along with Steve's, to make sure they didn't get hurt, in trouble, or worse. 

Naturally, as you should have expected, the kids wanted to do some decorating of their own. And with Halloween creeping up so soon, there was no better way than to carve some pumpkins. 

The kids' parents were happy to let you and Steve take them to the pumpkin patch. They seemed to find it cute how excited all of them were. Steve seemed just as eager, if not more, and you couldn't help but find it oddly endearing. Of course, you found everything he did to be endearing. Whether he was looking after the kids, keeping them in line, planning dates for the two of you, or even being just the slightest bit clumsy around you, it was the cutest thing. 

Watching him explore the pumpkin patch was no exception. The grin on his face never left, except when he had to keep Lucas and Mike from arguing over an especially perfect pumpkin they'd both spotted. Even then, Steve maintained his sunny disposition. You knew he loved Halloween, and it showed. Though he was more fond of the fall weather, partying, and trick-or-treating. He missed trick-or-treating.

It took longer than you'd hoped, but everyone had a pumpkin picked soon enough. All of you made it back to Steve's house where he'd already set up a spot at the table to get started. You helped the kids carve the top off, not wanting to hand them a knife. It wasn't that you didn't trust them, but you weren't taking the risk. 

Steve left the table and came back with a spoon, which you found funny. He didn't want to touch the pumpkin guts as much as possible, so he refused to do it with his hands. They were far too slimy and disgusting for him, and they reminded him far too much of actual guts. He didn't like the thought of that.

The rest of the kids, however, were perfectly content with using their hands to scoop, and they finished long before Steve did. 

"Do you want some help with that?" Max offered, eyeing his half-gutted pumpkin. A spoon wasn't very practical, but he was sticking with his decision.

Steve shook his head, sticking his tongue out in concentration. "I got it, I got it. I know how to clean out a pumpkin," he claimed.

"Dude, you're making a mess," Dustin added. "You have pumpkin seeds on the floor."

Steve looked down and shrugged nonchalantly before continuing. You laughed, shaking your head. He was stubborn, but, as with everything else he did, it was cute.

You, like the kids, had already moved on to carving something. Of course, you had to help them out a little hear and there, but you were very proud of how they were turning out. Steve claimed to have a great idea, so you left him to it.

It wasn't very long before everyone was done, though you'd all made quite a mess. More than you'd hoped. Oddly enough, despite his slow start, Steve was the first one done. In fact, he'd only been carving for a minute or so. You were very curious as to what he'd made. 

As soon as everyone was done, you grabbed candles and met everyone outside to light them. It was late enough now that you could see them perfectly. With Steve's help, you quickly lighted all of the pumpkins and stood back to admire your handiwork.

"Steve, what is that?" you asked, pointing to his pumpkin.

Steve had the biggest grin on his face. He looked very proud of himself. "It's a tiny face." 

He wasn't kidding when he said tiny. You almost didn't notice it. He must have lit the candle for it himself or you were sure you would've noticed sooner. It was funny, really, and you couldn't help laughing. Steve hardly seemed to mind. It was the reaction he was hoping for.

With the moon rising quickly, you sent the kids on their way home. You knew it was better they got home before it was too late, and you made them promise to be careful. The last thing you needed was to lose a kid. Again.

Steve pulled you back inside when you were sure they'd be okay. Spending time with the kids was fun and all, but he wanted some alone time with you. As much as he loved those losers, he often had to wait for them to leave to get you to himself. 

Steve cleaned off the pumpkins seeds you had left and set them to bake. A snack couldn't hurt. In the meantime, though, he felt it was the perfect time to get cozy and watch something. Preferably nothing too scary. His nightmares were enough terror for him.

Being as thoughtful as ever, Steve prepared some hot chocolate and grabbed a pile of blankets. He made sure you were comfortable before wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Steve naturally radiated warmth, so it wasn't hard to stay warm while being so close to him. He found a kid's Halloween movie that felt like a decent compromise. The last thing you wanted was to make him paranoid so late at night. 

As you snuggled close, setting your mug on the coffee table, you looked up at him. "I think the kids really had fun today," you said. 

Steve set his own mug aside and completely wrapped his arms around you, a look of relief on his face. "I think so, too," he agreed. "You know, there's a few other things around town we can take them to. There's a hayride, a corn maze, apple picking."

He sounded enthusiastic about each and every one. You often wondered why he was so hellbent on finding activities to do with the kids, but the answer felt so glaringly obvious to you. He wanted the kids to feel normal. To do normal things like they should be doing. Not jumping at every sound and constantly worried to let their guards down. They should be out trick-or-treating and worrying about whatever middle schoolers did, and having fun. You really admired how much he cared about them, even if he did want to pull out his hair sometimes. They could be a handful.

"I think all of those sound great, Steve." He beamed at you're words of approval. Honestly, he'd been hoping you'd say that. "We have enough time to do all of those at some point before Halloween."

Steve was relieved, and he kissed your forehead. He wanted all of the kids to have the best time possible. "Then it looks like we'll have our hands full this week," he said.

You didn't mind one bit. You loved Steve, and you loved spending time with the Party. They were your family, and it felt so nice to do normal people things again. For all you knew, this might not be the end of any of the horrors you've faced together, but the period of peace and quiet was enough for now. 

You rested your head on his shoulder, turning back to the TV. "I think Joyce mentioned having a bonfire this week," you said. "We can do that, too." 

Steve liked the sound of that. "I'll remember to buy everything for s'mores." He might even throw in some hot dogs for fun. As a kid, he'd loved roasting them the few chances he got.

Though he didn't want to, Steve pulled himself away from you when the seeds were done. He quickly came back as he finished preparing your snack and snuggled up in the blankets again. Putting aside any concerns about your upcoming plans, the two of you got comfortable again and spent the rest of the night cuddling and enjoying what peace you had.

//

taglist: @charmedtenderness​ @nxncywheeler​ @koibecomedragons​

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Current WIPs: April 2024

Active WIPs with most recent updates posted in the past month featuring awkward hospital room conversations, a hospital room meet-cranky, and hospital whump... I'm sensing a theme, here. More fake-ish dating, Mama Fuller wisdom, Professor Hawk, a couple road trips, some time travel and a few modern AU's. There really is something for everyone!

Happy reading!

✨ Be sure to show the authors some love and appreciation with kudos and comments on the fics you enjoyed!

🌺 Remember Our Love - Remember Me by Larnee💠[G, 638] Tim Laughlin - the love of Hawkins life is gone. Hawk struggles to move forward until someone unexpected shows up at his doorstep. Tim has never left Hawk, not now, not ever.

🌼 Chances Are by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove [G, 3K] After a family Thanksgiving, Estelle and Hawk talk. Then she meets Tim.

🌺 I Know I’ve Never Lived Before by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove [G, 3K] Wherein Hawk completely accidentally and through no fault of his own intentionally ends up dating the man he's sleeping with.

🌼 Within The Heart of Me by drabbleswabbles💠 [NR, 3K] Lucy goes to the hospital to talk to Tim. When she arrives, Hawk is already there.

Otherwise known as, a prompt fill that wanders a bit off the mark, but is close enough in spirit to give credit where credit is due as far as inspiration goes.

🌺 Darkness Before the Dawn by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific [NR, 350] It’s June 1944, following the US offensive against the German-led Caesar line that tore through a small squad of the 141st Regiment, killing two men and wounding others, along with Sergeant Hawkins Fuller. Following the blast of the Nazi’s K5 railway gun, he underwent surgery to repair sustained shrapnel damage and is now recovering in the Army’s 32nd Evac Hospital. In the bed next to him lies Corporal Marcus Gaines from the 85th Infantry Division, also wounded in action.

Or, the story of how Hawk and Marcus met.

🌼 A Disaster Beyond Measure by drabbleswabbles💠 [NR, 23K] Hawkins Fuller is a campaign manager with a PR disaster on his hands. The solution involves pretending to date none other than Timothy Laughlin.

Featuring: unrealistic portrayals of the life and job of a campaign manager for the sake of the fake dating trope.

🌺 Who Are You (who am I?) by Anonymous [G, 2K] AU- Hawk fails his security clearance after Tim goes to the army and Senator Smith locks him in a mental hospital where he is lobotomised

Or, Tim receives a letter from Mary saying Hawk needs him.

🌼Too old to play (and too young to mess around) by @bejeweledmp3 | ninav [M, 61K] Kimberly Fuller goes on a two-week vacation to San Francisco, in which she: drinks excessive amounts of tea, gets betrayed, cries more than she should, eats donuts, and seeks out truth with the help of a man she only knows from a presentation card; not necessarily in that order.

But mostly, she finds her father in every least expected place. And learns to make her peace with what that means.

🌺Sands of Time (Turn Backwards) by @brouill3r | brouiller [NR, 22K] 1987 Hawkins Fuller is full of regrets for the life he's lived, though Tim once told him he regrets nothing. Hawk so wishes he could say the same.

In the still night air of a hotel room, clutching a cracked paperweight to his chest like it's carved of the finest gold, Hawk gets his wish.

Or, a time-travel fix-it fic that nobody asked for.

🌼 Is it over now? by @satelarry | satelarry [M, 43K] Seeing the love of your life walk away without being able to tell him that you love him has to be one of the worst situations a person can go through. But Hawk decided to fulfill Tim's request, knowing it will be the last. What happens when he wakes up, 18 years before, with the knowledge of what's going to happen if he makes the same decisions? Does the ending always stay the same?

Or, the Time Travel AU in which the only thing ruining Hawk's plan is Tim's stubbornness.

🌺 Again, only better by @madsmeetsmisha | madsmeetsmisha [M, 17K] Hawk had no idea what was really going on here. All he knew was that he was back in 1954 and a completely distraught Tim was standing outside his door. And he also knew that he certainly wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

🌼 🪴His great consuming lovage* 🪴 by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter [T, 2K] Tim's potted plant has a story to tell...

🌺 We'll be on the road like Jack Kerouac by @jesterlesbian | captainquint [M, 4K] He tried to think of what Tim would do or say. The man who had only spoken to his son a handful of times over one weekend in 1968, but had seemed to understand him far better than Hawk ever had.

The business card felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

An idea burst to life in Hawk’s mind. This was an emergency if he’d ever seen one.

“What would you say to coming with me to San Francisco?”

Or, Hawk and Jackson go on a cross-country road trip to San Francisco.

🌼 Educate Me by @fullerthanskippy | fullerthanskippy [E, 13K]  A Hawk x Tim AU in which the timelines jump from 2012-2014 to present day 2024. When present day Tim receives an invitation to the 10-year reunion of his Georgetown graduating class, he is filled with both hope and dread that he will run into one particular professor.

One man who was the through-line of his two years in grad school. The man who taught him more than he could have ever learned in the classroom.

When Tim is re-acquainted with Professor Hawkins Fuller, he immediately flashes back to 12 years prior, when he first encountered the man that he had no idea would be the greatest love and loss of his life.

Or, tons of garbage filthy smut sprinkled in between pining, angst, and fluff. Contains explicit material including but not limited to the likes of top!hawk, bottom!tim, top!tim, bottom!hawk, dom!hawk, sub!tim, bratty!tim, and much, much more. Enjoy!

🌺 I Sing the Body Electric by telescape8💠 [M, 28K] Modern AU. It all starts on Election Night 2016. Tim falls hard. Hawk falls harder.

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