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sheisjoeschateau · 11 days

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X

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Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.

We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.

Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.

Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.

And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.

Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.

WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN. - MISHA @sheisjoeschateau PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

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OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”

Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.

“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients.

“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously. “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”

Murray rolled his eyes. Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind. He pointed his spatula in her direction.

“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk. “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving. And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends. Alright?”

Erica narrowed her eyes. “What do I need to know that they don’t?”

Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her. Christ, she was relentless. Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends. That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair. She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.

“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”

“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms. “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret? I need to know all the facts first. Especially if I have to keep it from my brother. And Steve. And Bauman.”

Murray sighed through his nose. She was right. Mature, and right.

“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly. “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention. And truth be told? Harrington needs a break. So does my niece. And your friends? They need some time with mom and dad. You do, too. But right now? You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them. And quite frankly? I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them. Got it?”

Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding. She pursed her lips, considering this. Finally, she nodded.

“Alright. Deal.”

Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.

“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.

“Ohforheaven'ssake —”

__________________________

Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him. Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.

Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams. There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast. She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe.

She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve.

Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up.

And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world.

She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom.

Hopper and Murray were out of the question.

She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it.

And Argyle? Well, he’d said about as much as he could say. Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.

Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.

“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”

Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket. Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly. “It’s uhh, yeah. Plagued at this point. Thanks, Vecna.”

Robin nodded with a smirk. “Yeah. Thanks a lot, Vecna. Fuck you, man.”

That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see. She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything. After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it. And the way she and Robin had started off? Not great. Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck. Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house. But they weren’t exactly best friends. Friends for sure. But not like Nancy and Barb had been. Not even close.

“You know,” Robin mused. “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there. Not like you did.”

That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.

“You and Barb,” Robin explained. “You two were thick as thieves. She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”

Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness. “She did…?”

“Yeah,” Robin smiled. “Always. Saved them on little flashcards and everything. She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’ Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”

Nancy beamed at that. She shook her head, grinning widely. “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip. Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time. As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”

“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted. “What an icon, really.”

“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly. “Yeah, she…she was the best.”

Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.

“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky. “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know? Not just to tell her how sorry I am. For everything that happened before she…”

Nancy’s voice trailed off. Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.

“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook. “So many questions, like…like the way we used to. As best friends. About — everything. Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”

Robin nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Because Robin did know. Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter. Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state. Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington. Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant. The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life. However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.

Barb had been that for Nancy. But she was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked. She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip. “About…anything.”

Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to. Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant. She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together. It just…just...worked. Clicked, made sense. Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real. Really real. Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy. But I didn’t really. Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for. Ever. Not once. He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him. Not the other way around. All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”

Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight. But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept. And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.

“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly. “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone. And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was. The way that I still am. But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”

Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.

“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it. H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him. Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”

Nancy choked on a sob.

Robin knew she meant Barb. She didn’t have to say it.

“I’m angry. For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone. All the time. And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”

Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside. Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.

“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice. “He loves her, and s-she loves him back. S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him. And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…? Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with? I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”

Robin squeezed her. “It’s not selfish. It’s human. Steve is amazing. But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”

“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now. She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes. They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.

“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset. “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”

“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it. “You’re right, I did. We did. Me and Eddie. But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”

Nancy looked at her quizzically. Robin sighed.

“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers. “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey. You had each other. Steve? Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman. Because back then, he didn’t know yet. He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly. “We all know that now.”

“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly. “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”

Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once. Robin picked back up, on cue.

“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do. On his own. Dustin was the first to reach out to him. Well, he basically forced himself on Steve. And Steve needed that. He’s an only child. He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him. You have Mike. Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”

Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.

“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued. “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults. He got left behind to watch the kids with her. They went through…a lot of shit that night. You did, too. But so did they. They fought off Billy Hargrove. They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels. They survived the night together. You know what that feels like. You and Jonathan bonded that way. Right?”

Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing. Eventually, she nods again.

“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids. And that was great. Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth. Like, some sort of femme tomboy. Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"

“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way. At least not at this moment.

“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze. “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright? You know you’re beautiful. You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years. That’s not even a question.”

Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.

“...but Steve had to move on. Or…find ways to convince himself that he could. And Bauman? She was there for that. She was around, during all his growth. And trust me – it was ugly. You have nothing to envy there. God, the way that they argued? The way Steve talked to her, honestly? Honestly. You would’ve slapped him. I sure as hell did a few times. Mostly verbal slapping. But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie. You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth. You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it. She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now. And she owned up to her shit, too. It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault. But hey, she took the hits. Many times. And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over. Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture. Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it. But still, they got through shit together. They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians? She and Steve honestly kept me so sane. And they kept us safe, too. Me, Dustin and Erica. They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world? They did. They didn’t even think twice. Steve grew into a way better person because of her. And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids. She didn’t grow up with siblings either. That’s another thing they have in common.”

Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression. Robin let that sink in before continuing.

“I know this is…a lot. But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone. Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it. Shit, we didn’t know it either. That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray. Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”

Nancy scoffed. “I know that.”

“Of course you do. We all do. He does, too. Especially now. Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”

Nancy’s heart sank at that. She knew that it was true.

“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast. “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him. Or him. I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up. Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”

“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her. “Because who he was then, is not who he is now. And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”

Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.

“Do you still love Jonathan?”

Nancy looked at her, surprised. “What?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently. “Why is that going wrong again?”

Nancy got defensive. “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”

“Right,” Robin mused. “But…what about after he got back? What happened then?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t. She thought about that for a while.

“We just…” she started. “...we just…moved past it. We let it go.”

Robin nodded slowly. “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”

“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped. “I’m so sick of it. I always have to push him to tell me things. He just — shuts me out. Clams up, retreats. He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”

“Well then,” Robin nods. “That’s definitely on him. But what about you?”

Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.

Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.

“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers. “And that I…that we’re fine.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Do you wanna be?”

Nancy’s face crumbles. “I…I want…”

Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.

“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair. “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did. That he would. That he always would —”

Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms. They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle. Nancy has said enough for now. It would all unravel itself more over time.

Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.

“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.

So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.

And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica. They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.

So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.

Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying. She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier. Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin. He stood up, unable to help himself.

“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.

Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.

“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool. “We share a room.”

Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected. She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while. It terrified him, making his anxiety spike. Had he lost her? Was he too late?

He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table. Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable. So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.

Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water. Yikes.

“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in. Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.

Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”

With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.

“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle.

“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin.

“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously.

“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone. Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”

Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.

Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”

“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”

“Does she know?” Nancy asked.

“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”

Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…

Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.

“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”

Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that. Off their nods, he continued.

“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden. Out of sight. Quiet. On high alert. It’s a gamble. Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”

Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread. He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.

“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there. And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”

Everyone’s blood ran cold.

No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.

“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”

Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.

Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.

Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.

Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering.

“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.

“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”

Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against. We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there. Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”

Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”

Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.

“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”

Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look. They knew this wasn’t going to go well. At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.

“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”

That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.

“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”

Jonathan felt sick. This also meant leaving Will behind. “But…how? How can they run?”

“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”

“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly. “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”

“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”

“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time. El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back. She can’t. I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes. “But as far as the rest of you kids go? No more. It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here. But if this is how it’s gotta go down? You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”

Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense.

“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”

“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just…really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”

“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit. He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”

Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low. “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce. And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side. Those kids are going to raise hell. All of them are. And this plan is not changing. It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot. Am I making myself clear?”

Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.

“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is. Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table. “I’m counting on you. I know that’s not fair, but I am. You’re tough as nails. You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends. Your friends. You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him. I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it. Whatever you have to say? Say it. And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me. Understood?”

Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression. But she nodded.

“Understood,” she said, voice low.

Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.

“As for you guys,” he said. “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence. Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us. She can’t be now. And Steve cannot hang back. He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle. And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it. She can’t, and she won’t.”

“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce. “Tell me. If she tries pulling a fast one? You tell me. Capiche?”

Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.

“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him. Since when do he and Steve talk?

“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son. “He’ll need it.”

"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.

“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically. “Via the walkies?”

“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms. “We’ll have to be scarce about it. Selective. Nowhere is safe. It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”

Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding. Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety. Leaving you behind? The kids? Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you. He was an extension of you. The whole situation just felt…fucked.

But wasn’t everything fucked? Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?

Was there actually an end to this nightmare? A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?

Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe. Yes. Yes, this was going to end.

The end of the world was nearing. It was inevitable.

But it wouldn’t be your world.

***

You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.

You’d wondered. Every little girl does. In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination. The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want. The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want. The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after. The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.

Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl. How could you not? It was inevitable.

But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much. You’d been made to grow up from a very young age. Your grandmother had been there for you enough. She kept a roof over your head. Food on the table. A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work. You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely. You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so. She was gone a lot. She wasn’t very old. Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time. A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant." You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it. She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support. Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted. You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city. It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife. It was cool, for the most part. But it definitely meant being able to hold your own. She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.

It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far. He was home a lot. Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much. He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that. It meant consistency. His spare room basically became your room. It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over. You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it. The two of you got along effortlessly. His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray. That’s where you got it from. But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his. He was all over the place. You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often. Your uncle was definitely an oddball. But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.

You weren’t babied. You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world. It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself. It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.

So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start. A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time. Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one. There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.

But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.

Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin. Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds. But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.

El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love. In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them. But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together. It was real love, and you let them be that way.

Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again. Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon. He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright. Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.

Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch. As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody. Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards. Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her. He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max? Always.

Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear. He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve. Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together. Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.

At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.

Lucas had barked the loudest laugh. “How about the one we’re currently living??”

“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected. “I got a better idea. Tell your most embarrassing story. One you’re scared shitless to tell.”

You'd grinned in his arms, snickering. “Oh I got plenty of those.”

“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy. “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”

“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.

“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.

Steve huffed. “Dammit, Wheeler —”

Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.

“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.

You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink. “Trust me. She does.”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand. “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”

“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn. “One time? I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”

“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.

“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand. “I thought it was with a girl —”

“William,” Steve scolded.

“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him. “Shitting his brains out.”

Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time. El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.

“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.

“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled. “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”

Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard. It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high. All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too. Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk. All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy. It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.

And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.

That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots. Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright. You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving. And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.

“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end. Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.

Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group. Technically, Erica was too. But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space. She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.

As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door. That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him. After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you. His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be. But the need for it that night never came.

You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses. Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.

You felt him chuckle against you. “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.

And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it. The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have. But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.

***

Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.

Turns out? All of them wanted this. The two of you together. They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first.

“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”

“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.

“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.

“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.

“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.

“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”

“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable. “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”

“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”

“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.

“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”

“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.

“Me either,” El added quietly.

“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”

“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”

“Hot.”

Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot? It was El.

“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.

Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.

“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.

“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.

“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively.

“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.

“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.

“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.

“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”

“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”

Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”

After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered.

Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready. Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.

Will and Lucas drew each other.

Mike and Erica drew each other.

El and Dustin drew each other.

And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.

Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…

Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.

Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts.

Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.

Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”

Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas.

Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”

“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered.

“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”

Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”

“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.

“One…”

El shrugged. “I dunno.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes.

“Two…”

Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?”

You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”

Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.

“Three!”

Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.

Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper.

El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!

Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party. (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)

Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends. Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.” (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)

You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way. It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe. In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other. He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago. Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving. You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.” Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.

Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing. You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress. It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you. Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined. There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets. And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:

BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)

A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.

You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once. Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.

Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit. He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head. Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts. And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them. Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world. Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.

As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him. All of you were there. Will was there, next to all his friends. You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper. Even your Uncle Murray.

And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique.

She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her. She was alive, as were the rest of you. Very much alive.

Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.

No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together. You had each other.

You always will.

***

Late morning upstairs has been kind to you. It's been light. Hopeful.

There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift. It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling. You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.

As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you. A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.

Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze. He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room. Murray brings him over to introduce you.

“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.

You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully. “Heard a lot about you.”

“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent. He’s definitely seen some shit.

“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye. “Her boyfriend.”

Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes. He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.

Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind. You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin. The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.

This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar. But you could really get used to it. It’s new. And you adore it.

Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well. Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him. Likely because of Hopper. Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn. Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil. Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind. Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug. She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand. You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy. Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost. But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see. She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.

Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room. For Nancy, that had been…hard. Necessary, but hard. For multiple reasons. For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting. Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong. But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night. Not yet. Not after everything that had unfolded. So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart. But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed. Just what the doctor ordered. Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist. Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon. But he was the much simpler kind. Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting. Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed. A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends. Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy. Robin was very different from Barb. However, her heart was just as loving. She loved hard, and it showed. She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return. And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.

So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him. And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve. And she even began to feel some happiness for you. Not completely. Not yet. She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time. A very long time. But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.

Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions. Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.

Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.

Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast. And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet. The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.

***

It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.

Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household. Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens. It wasn’t like all the other times. This was different. Very different.

This one scared you.

Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them. Comfortable. It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.

But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others. And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks. Their faces were somber, a bit grim. Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands. Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous. Maybe even afraid.

They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed. And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got. Tension spread around the room. It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound. They hadn’t uttered a single word. Not one of them. The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.

So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.

You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards. They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.

One list of names would be at the frontlines. The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils.

One list of names would be hiding out here. The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.

Both sides were at risk. Both teams could die. Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.

As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat. His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish. His mind races, but his lips don’t move. Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards. The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him. And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.

You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened. Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now. You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group. With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.

Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did. He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control. He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards. Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud. He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica. Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue. He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother. He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance. Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated. He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride. But even so, he looked conflicted. Really conflicted.

After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie. She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it. You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards. Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs. While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently. As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…

It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious. Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy. Did they know this was coming? Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?

You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them. The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.

“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly. “Truthfully, it’s not owed. I know that. Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me. Not those guys out there. Hence why I’m here. And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things. Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”

He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned. Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense. He knew this was not going to be taken well.

“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before. There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were. “If it were up to me? None of you would be out there. I’d be out there on the frontlines. But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here. Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect. The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this. We’ll be surrounded from all angles. No one is safe.”

You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.

“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman. I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”

“But…what happens if…”

A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction. It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear. He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self. He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.

“…what happens if we’re caught? What do we do? Where do we go?”

Murray sighs, stepping forward. “We’ve thought about that. Right now, there’s only 2 options. But they’re solid. The best we’ve got right now. One more than the other. See, look —”

Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up. And this time might be the last time.

At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life. His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed. Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter. They had him beat, and he knew it. He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen. It was so unexpected that he did as she said. But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion. As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t. Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend. Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense. That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike. Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement. Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.

“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.

“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.

“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop. “Just l-listen to me…”

“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled. “Never!!!”

“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”

Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown. Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him. Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them. All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this. After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.

El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled. He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes.

Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack. He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand. Please Steve, please, let me go with you. Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug. The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time. Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.

You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley. She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf. You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.

Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well. His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.

Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end. She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame. “I - I’m sorry.”

Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs. Jonathan watched her go, panicking. He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading. You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated. You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side. Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.

“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”

Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life. Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest. He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d failed them. But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway. He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them. For them.

Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed. The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him. He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.

You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first. Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul.

You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him. I understand. I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand.

And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language. I love you and I hate this. But I’ve got you.

Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast. He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain.

Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.

Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El. They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.

This plan was not open for discussion.

This plan was not open for debate.

This plan was final.

And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.

***

-- so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.

<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen. - misha

TAGLIST (ILYSM) If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)

@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose nevillescomslut

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #mishas masterlists #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut #joe keery #oh so we do love steve #steve and bauman #murray bauman #jopper #jim hopper #jonathan byers #stancy #sorry stancy

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eufezco · 2 years

Text

THE GRIEF OF LOSING EDDIE MUNSON

Steve Harrington x Byers!Fem!Reader, because I need to make everything about Steve sorry.

A/N: Listen to Glimpse of us by Joji, Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens and Die first by Nessa Barret for the full experience. Once again, english isn't my first language<3

Tw: self harm, panic attacks, not eating. I've seen a lot of people having such a strong reactions to Eddie's death and this is super angsty so be careful reading it please.

The door of your room was closed. It was closed most of the day, the only person who dared to open it was your mother to check up on you. Every now and then. She would leave it open, pretending to forget about closing it after going out of your room so she could have an eye on you. But that day you decided to keep it open yourself.

Someone knocked on the door of the house. Joyce being the one opening it to find Steve with a half-smile on his face. She hugged him before letting him inside.

—How is she doing? —The boy asked your mom, her replying with a grimace, pointing at your open door with her head. Steve blinked, nodding. That's good, he thought.

Steve went to the living room where El, Will and Jonathan were having breakfast, Hopper was sitting on the couch watching the TV. Steve said good morning to all of them and sat at the table with your siblings.

Joyce asked him if he had already had breakfast to which Steve answered by nodding his head and thanking her for worrying. Will showed him his new drawings and El talked about something he wished he could've paid attention to, but his fingers were tapping nervously on the table as his eyes escaped from El to the door of your room. He'd been doing it every day since everything ended. He'd usually wait for you there, sitting with your siblings, but today you were taking especially long.

—Should we go and see if she's okay?

Steve nodded and got up from the bed as soon as Will asked, the other three doing the same and following him. Jonathan, Will, El and Steve stood outside of your room, you not noticing them thanks to you wearing your headphones and being with your back turned to the door as you were busy drawing something.

Steve and Jonathan shared a glimpse.

—Is she okay? —El asked. You never used headphones, your music was always rumbling through the house.

—I think she's going through grief —. Steve stated.

El and Will were confused. —What's that? —El asked Steve.

—It's when- It's when you try to process the loss of someone.

The girl nodded, understanding what Steve was saying. Will had a worried expression on his face while Jonathan looked at you with sad eyes.

—And what do we need to do? How can we help her?

Steve kept looking at you while Will looked at him, El waiting for an answer. Both, Steve and Jonathan knew there wasn't much to do for you. —Just be there for her —. Jonathan answered her for Steve.

DENIAL

"Hi, y/n." The four of them decided that it would be better if only one of them went to talk to you. El and Will voted for that person to be Steve while Jonathan voted for Will and Steve voted for himself. Steve tapped softly on your shoulder, making you turn around, startled because you weren't expecting anyone to find out it was Steve who interrupted your thoughts. You said hi back to him as he threw a glimpse at what you were drawing. Steve talked to you, you only responding him with quiet hums.

"Are you ok-?" He finally asked.

"I'm fine." You replied to Steve and immediately after, you put your headphones back on. He stood there, behind you, for a couple of seconds deciding what he should do; you definitely weren't feeling like talking nor spending time with him or with anyone, but he didn't want to leave you. That day he did leave, but that didn't happen ever again.

You spent most of the day drawing, writing, or reading, your headphones never leaving your ears. Steve brought you some of his tapes and he bought new ones for you of artists he knew you liked. El would sneak into your room and just watch you as you painted and sometimes Will would too to draw with you. You couldn't feel anything, not sadness, not happiness, as if there was a hole in your chest that absorbed every emotion not giving your brain enough time to process them before they were gone. You were numb to everything around you; seeing Steve walk into your room made you feel nothing, you couldn't be proud as you used to be when Will showed you one of his new works, and neither you could feel the sadness after losing your best friend. You just were certain that something like that couldn't have happened to him. If Will survived one week alone in the Upside Down, Eddie could too.

"We need to go back." You went to the kitchen where Steve was helping Hopper to cook. There were only the three of you in the house, Joyce and Jonathan were at work but it wouldn't be long before they got home, and El and Will were hanging out with Mike. Steve cleaned his hands and turned around to listen to you, Hopper watching out the pasta for him. "We need to go back to the Upside Down." Steve's body tensed, Hopper stopped mixing the pasta with the tomato sauce. "I've been thinking and- Will was 12 when he spent a whole week alone in the Upside Down and survived, and those bats bit you too and you are alive. Eddie-" Steve shook his head softly, pressing his lips together. "Y/n." Steve cut you off in the softest way he could. Hopper looked at the boy who just finished sharing with him what Dustin told him about Eddie. "We can figure out how to open the gate again. I'm- I'm not asking any of you to go, I'll do it. I'll go and find him."

Steve licked his lips. "That's not possible, y/n."

"You don't understand, I have to find him." Your hands shook, Steve noticing and approaching you. Hopper turned around to see where the boy was going. "I have to save him, Steve." You started crying, your hands covering your face as you used Steve's chest to hide. "He's there alone and he has to be very scared." You sobbed, him wrapping his hands around your body, his chin resting on the top of your head. Hopper approached you both and laid one of his hands on your head. "He hates being alone. He has to be so scared, Steve, please, we need to find him." As he said, Steve knew that wasn't possible and he let you know in the less hurtful way, by not answering you. You begged Steve to help you go back to the Upside Down, his heart breaking into million pieces knowing he couldn't do anything for you and holding back his tears as he heard your desperate sobs trying to get Eddie back.

ANGER

Steve was holding you between his arms as you tried to escape his grip. You had already broken some of the polaroids you had with Eddie on the wall above your desk, the pieces lying on the floor as you tried to go and rip the ones that were still stuck to the wall. Your breathing was fast, your eyes with tears of rage and your body shook violently against Steve's arms. You finally gave up, if it hadn't been because Steve was holding onto you, you would've fallen defeated to the floor. Your head down as you sobbed, your whole body finally relaxing as Steve could loose his arms around you a little bit, still holding you so you won't fall. He gave you a minute as you tried to catch your breath and his eyes were locked on the ripped pictures, Steve let out a sigh because he knew you were definitely gonna regret this later.

"He was a fucking coward. He let himself die because of this stupid town as if he owned this place anything when everyone, literally everyone, thinks he is a murderer. You know what he was, huh? A fucking idiot and he died like one." Steve had to hear things like this every day, knowing you didn't mean it and that it was your trauma talking, not you. After realizing what you just say, you would start crying while mumbling 'I didn't mean it', Steve caressing your back and reassuring you that he knew you didn't.

Joyce had to pick up the pieces of your broken drawings, you destroyed every piece of art you created during your denial stage; ripping the papers and making holes in your canvases. Steve asked her if he could keep them and Joyce gave him each of the small pieces of paper that she collected. Steve repaired your photos with Eddie, using glue and tape to get the pieces together. He kept them in his room, waiting patiently to return them to you. He managed to perfectly repair four of them: you and Eddie posing for the camera with your Hellfire t-shirts, a big smile on your face as Eddie leaned his head on your shoulder. You didn't play D&D but Eddie insisted on you having your own Hellfire t-shirt. Two of them were pictures of Eddie, him lying in a flower field when you both went to that picnic last spring, his hair tangling with the flowers, and another one of him playing his guitar in one of his concerts. The fourth one was taken by Eddie's tattoo artist when he let you use the tattoo pen to color the bats’ tattoo on his arm. You were focused and worried at the same time that you were hurting him, but Eddie was admiring you as you worked on his new tattoo, the shine in his eyes visible in the picture being evidence of what kind of friendship you two had. For the rest of the photos, Steve did the best he could, but some of the pieces were too small to get them together or to even identify what they were.

The relationship between Jonathan and Steve got worse if possible. They only worked hand to hand when it was about you, the rest of the day they'd ignore each other for good. Jonathan hated to see Steve every day at home but he never said anything because he knew that he did not only help you but Joyce and his family too. Jonathan didn't like Steve, not only because he was his girlfriend's ex but now also because he was trying to get with his little sister. It was probably you transmitting your bad mood to them, which they never blamed you for, what caused them almost getting into a fight in the living room. Apparently, Steve heard Jonathan telling that long-haired friend of his how, not so deep down, Steve was still the same person he was three years ago. Steve wouldn't have cared about what Jonathan had to say about him, but you being depressed and your brother assuming that Steve was using you made him snap. Hopper had to step in the middle of the two boys, and Joyce had to call them both out.

Your jaw hurt, it was clenched most of the day and in the palm of your hands were bruises of half-moons because of your nails digging into your skin when you closed your fists. Steve took care of them, asking Joyce for bandages to cover that part of your hand so when you sunk your nails there, you wouldn't hurt yourself. Sometimes you would puke from all the anger you were keeping inside, Jonathan with a hand on your forehead and the other one holding your hair, and Steve waiting with water and a wet towel to clean your face. Then the embarrassment and the frustration would hit you at the same time, leaving you sitting down on the floor of the bathroom for hours, with your back against the door and your head on your knees as you hugged them to your chest. Steve and Jonathan were sitting there with you, looking at you and then looking at each other, their eyes finally locking on the floor as they listened to you cry.

BARGAINING

What if you've never met Eddie? What if you never introduced him and Dustin? What if you had gone with him to the Upside Down instead of going with Max and Lucas to the Creel House? You coudn't save Max and you couldn't save Eddie either. You were so ashamed of yourself, you felt like a failiure. You should've gone to California with your family, if you wouldn't have stayed in Hawkins, Eddie would be alive now. You would've probably distanced yourselves and now he would be living his life, playing D&D and giving concerts. The anger mixed with the sadness and you finally felt like talking with someone about Eddie.

"I should've gone to the Upside Down." You were sitting in your bed, your knees against your chest. Steve was sitting on the floor of your room, his back against the wall right in front of your bed and reading one of the books you recommended him a long time ago. His eyes laid on you when you spoke. You didn't tell him but Steve guessed that those thoughts were going through your head. "It should've been me who-" Steve cut you off. "No. Don't say that." Steve left the book on the floor and went to sit next to you, his gaze trying to find yours but your eyes were lost. "It should have been none of us." Steve tried to comfort you. He threw one of his hands over your shoulder, making you lay your head on his chest. You didn't complain, letting Steve's soft-touch snuggle you to his chest. There was a moment of silence before Steve spoke again. "Dustin asks all the time about you." You sat up, your eyes wide open. You've been so self-centered in your pain that you didn't even think about Dustin.

Steve drove you to the Hawkins High Gym where he knew you would find Dustin. During the drive, he told you that Dustin spent his days there since the supposed earthquake hit Hawkins, helping the people affected by it and giving them comfort. You knew the boy would be doing a good job. "If you want to leave at any moment, just let me know." You nodded, thinking twice about going into the gym. Steve waited with you there until you felt ready, his hands on his pockets as he already saw his friend through the windows, handing bottles of water and limping as he walked. Everything was a mess when you decided to go inside the gym. Even though some time has passed, people were still hurt, homeless and they'd probably lost everything. You saw Robin from the distance, she was talking with that girl she fancied and when she saw you too, she greeted you with a small smile, glad to see you again. Steve was by your side when Dustin noticed you had walked into the gym, him giving you the soft push you needed in the lower part of your back to approach the boy.

Dustin was limping, he later told you it was because of the fall when he went back to the Upside Down. You sat in an empty bed so you both could talk. Steve left you alone with Dustin, a young woman telling him he could help by folding clothes. The boy told you he had been helping there, what happened to his leg, and that Mr. Munson had been asking for you every day. You felt guilty, for not having talked to Dustin before and for not having, at least, called Eddie's uncle. Dustin's voice broke when he talked about Eddie, trying to comfort you somehow by telling you Eddie died like a hero. You also felt guilty for that. Dustin was there when Eddie died, he literally saw him dying in front of his eyes, yet there he was, consoling you. He stopped talking when he saw Mr. Munson entering the gym. You and Dustin got up, the old man quickly lying his eyes on you. He approached you, asked how had you been. You tried to not answer him by just using monosyllables but you felt like if you said anything else you'd start crying. When Mr. Munson was about to leave, he started digging in the pocket of his jacket.

Eddie's uncle handed you the guitar pick Dustin gave him.

"Mr. Munson, I can't. He was your nephew-"

"And you were his person. I'm sure Eddie would want you to have it." The necklace with his pick fell into the palm of your hand, feeling heavier than it should as your eyes filled with tears, but you did not get to cry in front of them. You apologize to Eddie's uncle for not being by Eddie's side when the earthquake happened, for not having made him see that this stupid town was not worth giving his life for. At least you now knew that he was not alone when he died which supposed a strong relief for your soul as you watched Dustin break down when he told you. But you didn't shed a tear, not in front of them. In the middle of this, some asshole from the basketball team you assumed, painted a pentagram and some horns and a tail on Eddie's poster. Mr. Munson was already taking out of his backpack another one to change the ruined poster. "May I?" You asked him. The man looking at you with sadness in his eyes as he nodded.

You knew the poster won't help. That as much as the cops looked for Eddie, they would never find him. But at least, with that poster there, they won't forget about him.

Dustin continued crying, the kid sobbing as you both looked at Eddie's photo on the poster. All you've ever dream about and planned with him was gone. You bit your lower lip when the first tears finally rolled down your cheek. You placed your hand on Dustin's head getting him closer to you as the boy wrapped his hands around you too.

It was the first time after Eddie's death that you were hugging someone and not being hugged.

DEPRESSION

Steve, Joyce, and Jonathan changed their whole work schedule after planning it thoroughly for you to not be alone at any time. You cried of sadness for the first time since Eddie died and you didn't stop for a pretty long time, your eyes getting a permanent shade of red. Your sobs could be heard throughout the house at night, Jim's light sleep making him walk to your room to find you curled up in your bed, almost choking on your tears and snots. "Come on, y/n." Hopper helped you to sit up on your bed, you being barely capable of keeping that posture for yourself. Jim took a tissue from your nightstand and blew your nose, and using his thumbs he wiped your tears. "We're gonna try to sleep, okay?" He sat on your bed with his back against the wall and hugged you against his chest, and using his hands, he caressed your hair and kept you close. "I miss him." You said between sobs. Hopper let out a sigh, hating to see you go through this while his big hand still working on your hair. "I know you do."

Steve always tried to have small gestures with you like buying you your favorite flowers and placing them in a vase next to your bed where you spent most of the day, renting movies for you in case you felt like watching one which never happened, cleaning your room. He just wanted to show you that life was still worthy of living. You hardly ate, not even your favorite dish whetted your appetite anymore, you would just sit at the table with your family, staring at the food on your plate. The feeling of emptiness never left, it was always there like some type of shadow that followed you everywhere. Sometimes that shadow was nice to you, letting you cry to sleep in between Steve's arms playing in your mind the happiest memories you had with Eddie, like watching him win his first D&D game, when he let you braid his hair, the joy on his face as he watched you try to play his guitar... But other times the shadow was mean, fastening your breath to the point you felt dizzy, drying your mouth and throat and making you feel helpless, like not even Joyce soothing words were useful anymore, not even Jonathan sneaking into your room and grabbing your hand as you cried your eyes out and not even Steve hugging you at night could replace the void that Eddie left in you.

Life was meaningless without him.

You were gonna graduate together. You were gonna walk that stage and snatch that diploma together. You were gonna live together, go to the beachside. He was gonna walk you down the aisle by the time you married and he was going to be the godfather of your children. He was going to be the cool uncle, the one that would buy them ice cream on the sly before having dinner, the one buying them their first guitar and teaching them how to play D&D. He was going to be the person you would entrust your children in case something happened to you and your husband. And now all of that was gone. You couldn't even think of a life without him. Like his uncle said, you were his person and Eddie was yours.

ACCEPTANCE

You had your first shower last night, you brushed your teeth, and had a proper dinner. Your mom kissing your forehead and Hopper lying his hand on your shoulder, both of them letting you know how proud they were of you. Now you were in front of your wardrobe, the bright colors of your spring clothes looking especially annoying to you.

You chose the long skirt he always laughed at. It was pink and he said you looked like a cupcake and that it hurt his eyes because it was 'awfully pink'. You also picked a white t-shirt, putting it on and inside of the skirt, you looked in the mirror. Your chest going up and down at a fast pace as you could see him lucidly behind you, teasing you by playing with your skirt. It was fun how when you wore that outfit, you looked like completly polar opposites.

"My baby. You are so pretty." Joyce fixed your hair and grabbed both of your cheeks to kiss your forehead, Hopper behind her showing you a big warm smile, agreeing with what Joyce was saying. Steve got up from the sofa the moment you went out of your room, his eyes never shone so brightly like they did when he looked at you. He had this expression of amazement on his face, you caught him looking at you from up to down, which was pretty intimidating you might say, to finally let out a 'woah' that made your cheeks and ears grow hot. Steve approached you, wrapping one of his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek. "You look beautiful." You showed him a little smile. "You do to." You murmured and melting under his hand holding your waist. "Okay, lovebirds. If you need anything, call me. I want her back at 10 pm." Joyce nudged Hopper in his ribs, shaking her head at Steve. "Don't listen to him. Just take care of her, okay?" Steve nodded showing a comforting smile to your mom that made her know that you would be fine with him. You hugged Joyce and Jim one last time. "Shall we go?" You nodded. Steve took your hand as you walked out of your house to his car.

Steve drove out of Hawkins, to the next town where he knew there was a fair taking place and where he made a reservation in the fanciest restaurant he could afford. He took you on the most idyllic date ever as he promised when he confessed his feelings for you before going to fight Vecna. Every time that he made you laugh during dinner, that you showed him that timid smile of yours, that he saw you eating, something inside his chest tickled. After all you've been through together, he still got nervous when your fingers brushed as you walked, you finally making the move and grabbing his hand, your fingers intertwining as he caressed your hand with his thumb. The fair was the loudest place you've ever been in months, the music rumbled inside your chest. Steve got you a big pink cotton candy that you ate while you watched him trying to win a teddy bear for you. You giggled at his defeated face when he didn't get it, assuring him that he did great and awarding his efforts by giving him a piece of your cotton candy and a quick peck on his lips that made Steve almost fall to his knees.

"Wait, are you leaving?" You asked confused when Steve was about to turn around after walking you to the door of your house. "Mmm... yeah." Steve put his hands inside his jeans pockets. "I don't think I can sleep without you." You confessed hugging yourself.

"Well, you've got a big day coming tomorrow. We should not take the risk of you not sleeping." You giggled.

Your graduation day finally came. You woke up that day feeling empty again, angry because you thought that sensation was gone. You escaped to the bathroom to cry before Steve opened his eyes. This was supposed to be your day. Eddie's and yours. But now you had to do it for both of you. Not only getting that diploma but also learning how to live with the emptiness. You had a shower, the hot water burning your shoulders as you tried to stop crying, but the sound of the water hitting the bathtub made it so easy to hide your sobs. Your gown was too big and you didn't like the cap, as El said, it made you look like a gnome but Steve thought you looked cute. He drove you, El, and Will to the high school, it was almost offensive how they managed to plan a whole graduation after all of this. Your mom had tears in her eyes during the whole ceremony and so you did; Joyce was so proud of her little girl graduating and you were so sad about doing it alone. As the principal gave his speech, you noticed how many empty chairs were around you, one for each of the dead and disappeared students. One of those chairs was right next to you, your eyes staring at the empty seat for a couple of seconds. They ended up focusing on the director's words again to not think about who should be sitting there. "Look at you. That gown is so ridiculous." You could hear his laugh, you could also see him from the corner of your eyes sitting next to you. Your breathing quickened, he felt so real. "You're wearing my pick." Eddie pointed out. You did, the little dark piece hanging from your neck in contrast with the bright color of your gown. "I miss you." You murmured, your eyes getting glossy with tears. "I can't do this without you, Eddie." Your voice could not be heard not even by you, your lips were moving without emitting any sound. "Of course you can. You'll learn how to." Tears started rolling down your cheeks, you thanked you were wearing no makeup. "I miss you too." Eddie confessed when he didn't receive an answer. "We didn't get to say our goodbyes."

"You weren't supposed to leave me." You mumbled between sobs. You caught the attention of the girl that was sitting behind you, she asked you if you were okay and offered you a tissue. You nodded and denied her offer by showing her a little smile. "I didn't run, y/n. I didn't run that time." Eddie sounded proud of himself. You bit your lip down. "Look, this is what you're gonna do. You're gonna snatch that diploma and your gonna live. For us. And I'm not leaving you, not now and not never. I'd be right next to you every day of your life, watching after you. You can consider me your guardian angel if you'd like but I don't think I'm getting any close to heaven." He let out a giggle. "You've been the greatest life partner I could've ever asked for. Please, live y/n." And then he disappeared. You turned your head to look at the chair next to you, empty again, when a gust of wind blew, it was soft, refreshing, it soothingly caressed your wet cheeks and it smelled like him.

You started doing what he said. The walk to get your diploma felt so long as you battled with your knees for them to not give up. Joyce and Hopper got up from their seats, their hands applauding at a scandalously fast pace, and Jonathan taking pictures of you with his best camera. You also could hear Steve's cheers from there, his hands on both sides of his mouth to project his voice louder. El and Will were also clapping their hands, big smiles on their faces. You took the guitar pick on your necklace and placed a kiss on the small object.

"This is for you, Eddie."

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smashtbh · 2 years

Text

Daddy Issues

Jonathan Byers x M!reader | fem aligned + minors dni!

not my gif!

req: “ Hi! Me, again :) so... What if Jonathan dad finds out that his son dating with male reader, so he gets like really mad and goes to threaten the kid, but he founds him with the reader, and he gets like really mad and shit but the reader tells him to piss off and comforts Jonathan? I don't really see fic about Jonathan's daddy issues witch is actually weird i always thought that's gonna be something big for writers :o. “ — @russainweed (you are carrying my account rn ily)

oooo angsty. let’s do it. (im making this little note here after ive written this and im sorry to say i lowkey hate it lmfao)

CW: this got a lot heavier than i meant for it to, homophobia, the use of the f slur, lonnie being a piece of shit, threats of violence, lots of crying, there’s comfort i promise.

pairing: Jonathan Byers x M!reader.

he/him pronouns are used to refer to the reader.

a/n: jonathan byers is my boyfriend its canon. 😁 also just a thank you for all the support my account has been getting recently! you guys are the best.

word count: can’t check rn sorry 😭

“So… tonight?” Y/N’s voice comes through the phone, and Jonathan smiles.

“Of course.” Jonathan replies, moving the phone to his other hand. “My mom wants you over here for dinner by 6, you know how she is if you don’t show.”

There’s a sweet laughter that comes through and Jonathan sighs to himself. “I’ll be there, tell her not to worry.” Y/N says and there’s a crackle on the line.

“I’m not worrying! I know you’ll be here.” Joyce’s voice comes through, and Jonathan quickly peers his head around to see her at the other phone.

“Mooom!” Jonathan groans.

“Hi momma Joyce!” Y/N exclaims. Jonathan face palms and Y/N laughs again, listening to the annoyed mumbling. “I’ll be over, baby. See you later!”

“Kay, bye.” Jonathan hangs the phone back on its stand. He uses a hand to push through his hair and huffs a laugh.

There’s quick walking coming in his direction. “He calls you ‘baby’?” Joyce asks, with a giddy grin on her face.

“Mom.”

“You two are just the cutest.” She squeezes his cheek and walks away.

Jonathan is trying to set up the kitchen table when Joyce comes over with a box. “Forgot to tell you I found these,” she drops it on the table. “It was on top of the fridge. All the photos we took from last year’s winter break!”

She picks up and few and spreads them across the table. One of Jonathan kissing Y/N’s cheek, another of Y/N and Will trying to waltz, and more of Y/N and Joyce baking cookies.

He smiles down at the glossy pictures, filled with laughter and closed eyes. He picks one up, it’s of him and Y/N dancing in the living room as Will was bopping his head to the music. He’s trying to relive the moment in his head when there’s a loud knock on the door.

Assuming that it’s Y/N, Jonathan happily sprints to the door — the photo of them in his hand. He opens it with a stupid grin that quickly turns into a frown.

Lonnie.

“What are you — “

“Where’s your mother.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Jonathan gets a chill up his spine.

“She’s — she’s cooking.” Jonathan mumbles, instinctively closing the door a bit. Lonnie grabs at it and pries it wide open.

“I’m starvin’.” He breathes, marching past Jonathan and towards the kitchen.

Will is sitting on the couch watching a cartoon and he immediately stiffens when Lonnie walks into the living room. “Hey, kiddo. How you been?”

Will looks to Jonathan and then back at Lonnie. “I’m fine..”

Joyce walks in and her expression is similar to Will’s. Their faces painted with similar confusion. “Lonnie? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to stop by, grab somethin’ to eat. Jonny boy over here said you were cooking.” Lonnie shrugs and starts to stalk towards the kitchen.

Jonathan looks at Will and then at his mother. Then, panic hits him.

The pictures.

God, no. Please, no. Go straight for the food you fucking bastard, please.

“The fuck is this?” Jonathan hears as he chasing after Lonnie. Too late.

He tries to come up with an excuse, but there really isn’t one when the photo that Lonnie picks up is the one of Jonathan kissing Y/N’s cheek. “My — it’s.. they’re photos.”

“No shit.” Lonnie says, venom in his voice. “Why the fuck are you kissing this guy?”

Joyce runs in and grabs the photo out of Lonnie’s hand. “That isn’t your business.”

Lonnie tries to reach for it again, but Joyce pulls her hand away in time. He swears and turns to Jonathan. “Shoulda’ known you were a fucking faggot.”

Jonathan freezes. He isn’t sure what to do. “Shoulda’ known from the moment you told me you never had a girlfriend back when you were in school.” Lonnie continues. He scoffs before adding, “You’re disgusting.”

Joyce is caught off guard by his words, and Lonnie is able to grab the photo out of her hands. He brings it to Jonathan’s teary eyed face and rips it in half.

“No! — “

“You’re disgusting.”

He drops the two pieces to the floor and Jonathan catches them midair, his tears flowing freely now. He can’t hear much, but he can tell that Joyce is telling him off — screaming at him to get out.

Jonathan runs to his room with the torn photo, desperate to fix it. His shaky hands are trying to find the tape in his desk, but he can’t bring himself to calm down.

He’s breathing hard and crying — choking on his sobs. He gives up on looking for the tape, since he physically can’t bear to do it.

He crumbles to the floor and curls into a ball. He’s sobbing into the fabric of the jacket he has on when he realizes there’s rapid knocking coming from his window.

“Let me in, Jonathan — “ He hears the voice from outside plead.

Jonathan looks up and everything is blurry and the sounds around him are warbled by his own cries, but he squints at the window.

He doesn’t know if he wants to open it though. He feels like he’d rather cry and wallow in self pity. He’s disgusting.

He sobs harder into his own shoulder when he’s suddenly picked up and cradled.

“Hey — you’re alright. Breathe, baby.”

He knows that voice, and he clutches to the body that’s holding him together. Keeping him from shattering to pieces. From being torn apart like that photo.

The body starts rocking back and forth, and Jonathan finally starts to calm down. How’d he get in? There’s a kiss placed on his forehead and he finally opens his eyes. “There you are, love.” Y/N whispers, it looks as if he was crying too — and Jonathan frowns.

“Were — “ There’s a sniffle that interrupts his own sentence, “were you crying?”

Y/N huffs a laugh, and there’s a tight smile on his face “Says you.” His face turns serious. “What happened?”

Jonathan doesn’t know where to start, so he turns over in Y/N’s arms to reach for the ripped photo. He hands it to him and bites his lip in an attempt to not cry.

“What.. who — “

Jonathan shakes a bit.

“It’s alright. Hey — see look, we can just tape it back together, or — “ Y/N reaches for the camera on the table, “we could just take another.” He smiles at Jonathan.

Jonathan smirks, Y/N feels alive again. “We could.”

I’m disgusting. He frowns.

“Why’d you do that?” Y/N asks, referring to Jonathan’s face. He cups his jaw, opening his mouth to say something — when suddenly, there’s yelling in the hall.

A loud crack comes from the door as it swings open, revealing a very red Lonnie.

“You. You’re that fuckin’ guy.” He whispers, almost to himself. Joyce is behind him, it’s almost as if you could see the steam coming from her ears.

“Leave them alone, asshole!” She yells, storming to the phone to call the police.

Y/N sets Jonathan into a sitting position against the wall. “Yeah.” Y/N says, connecting the pieces as to why Jonathan was freaking out. “I am.”

“You’re a fucken — “ Lonnie yells, but Y/N interrupts him.

“What? A homosexual?” He shrugs, “At least I’m not a fuckin’ screw up like you.”

“You better watch your mouth, boy.”

“I don’t listen to dumb fucks like you.” Y/N walks towards him, leveling his height with Lonnie. “If I were you, I’d get the fuck out of here.” He points down the hall.

“Before the police find you dead.” Y/N says under his breath.

Lonnie squares his shoulders. Y/N thinks he’s going to punch him or something, but he turns and stomps down the hall. He swings the front door open and leaves with a loud bang of it closing.

Y/N almost laughs, before remembering Jonathan is behind him. He turns and runs towards him, still slumped against the wall. He’s shaking and there’s dry tears on his cheeks.

“You’re okay.” Y/N says. “He’s gone.”

“I know. I know.” He mumbles.

Y/N sees Joyce through the window, cursing and screaming at Lonnie who’s driving off, hopefully for good.

Y/N turns back to Jonathan, who calmed down. He’s breathing evenly with his eyes closed. Y/N caresses his face, lightly tapping on him. “Sweetheart.”

Jonathan hums in response, leaning into his hand.“Why’d you come through my window?” He whispers.

“Well, you guys weren’t answering the front door. I know why now.” Y/N says, combing through Jonathan’s hair with his fingers.

Jonathan sighs.

“I love you.” Y/N suddenly whispers.

“And I love you, Y/N.” Jonathan smiles, almost giggling.

Y/N pulls Jonathan into his arms, and leans against the wall. They’re sitting there for a couple of minutes before Jonathan breaks the silence.

“Can we take the photo now?”

“Of course, love.”

Y/N grabs the camera and sits next to Jonathan. He lets Jonathan hold his face and gently kiss his cheek. Y/N takes the photo and sets the camera down, turning to kiss Jonathan properly.

“I’m keeping this one.” Y/N mutters.

“Absolutely not.” Jonathan says, snatching the photo away.

They laugh and it’s easier to breathe again.

likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated!

#stranger things #stranger things x male reader #x male reader #male reader #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x male reader #jonathan byers x reader #gay jonathan byers #mlm #gay #angst

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queenimmadolla · 2 years

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

masterlist • PART TWO

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: You are content watching Eddie Munson from afar, ignoring the giant “what-if” that looms over you. It’s safer that way. But after a shitty party, some weed, and a lot of heart ache, it becomes clear you two share more than a class. If only the rest of the world didn’t just think you were two stupid kids not meant for each other.

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:: some fluff, some angst, as well as mentions and usage of weed. let me know if i missed anything!

𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙎: HEAVILY based on the song Call You Mine. And my sister’s first love, lol. I’d suggest giving it a listen to feel sentimental about our boy. Really am enjoying writing this story. Hope you enjoy it! If there’s, any mistakes, I’ll tweak it later. This is like my fourth time trying to post it because the website version of tumblr is a cnut (intentionally misspelled) and blanks a post out at a certain length so I’m just trying to post this and not break my macbook out of anger. 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭.

* . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * .

“Jesus,” You mumbled, gritting your teeth as you pushed the sweaty back of Gary Newman off of you and weaved your way through the crowd, finally breaching the back yard sliding door.

Steve Harrington was throwing one of his “legendary” (they were just alright in your opinion) ragers, and after your friends had mentioned they’d be going, you’d decided to do so, as well. Mostly for the jungle juice and the excuse to get high with your friends, which is what you were currently trying to do.

When the party inside started to get a little rowdy, you’d all agreed to go hang out by the pool and smoke. You’d gone back to your car, parked ridiculously far away, to retrieve the joint but making it back through the house had been a fucking struggle.

A fucking struggle that proved to be pointless because none of those bitches were out here yet. “We’ll meet you outside, Y/n.” You mimic Judy in a pitch much too high to be accurate as you weaved around the stragglers who’d also moved outside, and rested against the side of the house. Now you were just gonna have to stand there and wait because there was no way in hell you were going in to that mess to search for them. Less than five minutes later, you decided you weren’t going to wait, so you pulled the joint out from behind your ear and pulled the neckline of your long sleeve back to reach into your bra for your lighter. That was not there.

Fuck. “Fuck.” You mumbled, slapping your thigh in annoyance. How could you forget your lighter? This party sucked. “Need a light?”

You jumped in surprise, eyes darting over to the figure leaning against the wooden fence across from you. You didn’t think anyone else was sober enough to pay you any mind.

“Yeah, actually I do.” You were about to move over, desperate for any form of salvation when he pushed himself off the fence and walked closer to you. Long hair, very Steven Tyler, leather jacket and jean vest. You recognized him from school, Eddie Munson. Your asshole was clenching ridiculously hard to prevent your stomach from dropping right out of it.   Your interactions were limited and only consisted of small pleasantries exchanged in passing. But, you’d harbored a fascination, then admiration turned longing for him. It had started with you simply being bored at lunch one day at the end of sophomore year, you had zoned out until you realized you were staring at Eddie. Then the curiosity set in. You went from glancing at him every once in a while, to full on observing whenever he was within your sight, admiring his every—okay well not every—move he made. He was boisterous, yes, but usually only when people he seemed to care enough about were around. Otherwise, he seemed bored and uninterested with his surroundings.

You started to really notice him. Somehow, he ended up becoming the reason you were excited to go to school, you had danced around your room after the first day of senior year when you realized you had a class with him. Not in a creepy way, you just happened to get up and immediately come to the conclusion that you may see Eddie Munson that day (and it always left you disappointed on the days where you didn’t because he hadn’t showed up), just like you made sure you looked good every day in case that was the day he happened to notice your existence beyond just considering you a background character. Meanwhile, he was an enigma to you. But unfortunately, Eddie only seemed to notice the classmates he disliked (probably because he always had to watch his back for them), he didn’t really interact with you, other than those passing hellos. You never understood why they were so cruel to him. There were plenty of other people around the school who were also unique in their own way and fashion, but they didn’t get nearly the amount of shit Eddie did. And so what if he got held back twice? You didn’t see anything wrong with that in the first place. Sure, you were in a similar position, but literally no one had noticed until you told a select few (and you mean few), so why did they notice it so much with him? How they treated him was why you were so afraid for the rest of them to realize you had missed an entire year of high school. You weren’t popular enough for anyone to hold you to any high standards, but you were nice to everyone, meaning everyone knew you in a good light. You had a small group of personal friends, but that’s all you would tolerate. You couldn’t really risk your secret getting out.

Eddie reached into his vest pocket and produced a lighter, flicking it on for you while he held it up to your joint. You were fighting for your life to act cool and not freeze up. You put the filter between your lips and inhaled as the tip burned and leaned back to blow the smoke away from you after a few moments of taking it to the head. “Thanks, Eddie.” “No problem.” Something across the yard caught his eye, and with a small smile in your direction, he slipped away. Like always, you couldn’t help but stare after him until you couldn’t see him anymore, intrigued with his mystery, though he was probably just using this party as way to sell out his inventory or something. You had planned on sharing your joint with your friends, but they never came out to find you and when it became clear they wouldn’t be joining you, you finished it off yourself, taking your sweet damn time.

Half an hour later, pleasantly high, and feeling light as kite, you made your way over to the pool side, squeezing between bodies so you could snub out the blackened remains of it in one of the cigarette trays on the small tables, and ran into Judith in a conversation with Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler and a couple of others. You noticed how comfortable Steve seemed to be with Jonathan and Nancy being cuddled up together, but you figured that had something to do with the way he was looking at Judy who gave you a grin, causing your face to break out into a smile.

“Hey, you, we’ve been searching for you!” You blew a raspberry, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed because it’s Judy! That’s your bestie, right there. It’s the weed thinking for you. “I have been waiting out here for minutes.” She smirked, leaning against Steve as she really took you in. She seemed to be debating on something with herself before she replied, “Four minutes?”

You frowned. “No, for minutes. Wait, are you saying four minutes as in like the number four or are you saying it like for—“

“I’m fucking with you because you’re stupid high right now.” She laughed, reaching a hand out to squeeze your shoulder affectionately. “Oh.” And then you laughed, because it’s surprisingly hilarious. “Funny, you got me. What were we talking about, though?” The group seemed to let out a chuckle at that, and Judy continued to humor you. “Nothing, hun. How much jungle juice did you have?”

You knew very well you were too high to handle voicing numbers out loud, so you just held up hand. “This many.” “Five?” She seemed a little incredulous at that, and you felt a little proud of yourself when you added, “Like two hours ago and I haven’t even had the urge to pee yet.” “Oh, god. Okay, why don’t we get you home?” Truthfully, you’d had the same idea when you finished your joint since this party wasn’t providing you much amusement but you didn’t want to drag Judy of all people away. Especially since you knew about Steve’s not so subtle crush on her, and truth be told you were kind of rooting for them since you thought the college guy she’d been seeing since sophomore year—red flag, everybody, red flag—was too old for her.

“Yeah but also no.” She raised an eyebrow but you were determined to make sense. “You stay, I’ll go. My car is stupid far anyways, and I’ll just chill in there until I’m good to drive.” You don’t bother waiting for a reply, just lean into her personal space to give the tip of her nose a boop. “This isn’t my first rodeo, and I’m not that stupid.”

Luckily for you, she knows you’re actually somewhat responsible, even under the influence, and she trusts that you won’t be driving, but you’re sure she’s gonna go out periodically to check on you, which is why she lets you go.

You don’t bother saying goodbye to everyone else because, truthfully, you can’t remember most of their names right now, and instead head out the side gate.

You make it to the end of the driveway before you hear your name being called and turn around to see Eddie Munson making his way towards you. He lingers a little ways from you before he shakes his head and then he’s right in front of you, so close you can see the beauty mark near his mouth. “You, uh, you want some company?” You’re struck stupid for some reason—the reason being that you’re high and Eddie Munson is really beautiful. “For what?” You were confused though, did he think you were sticking around the party?

“While you sober up in your car,” His eyebrows pinched together, but the answer made you even more confused. How the hell did he know you were going to your car?

Eddie seemed to realize that was the question plaguing you before his lips slowly curled into the most handsome smirk you had ever seen in your entire life and added, “I was standing next to you, sweetheart.” Standing next—Oh! He was standing right next to Judy when you had moved in to the area they were occupying to put out the joint. And you had shoved your way in-between them to do so. You were too…preoccupied to notice anyone other than the people who had been facing you were. “Oh, right. Sorry, I’m a little…” You trailed off, doing some weird gesture with your hand that meant nothing. “Fuzzy headed.”

Eddie’s smirk had softened, observing you for a moment. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his eyes were. So big, and so warm. He was the reason you knew brown eyes were your favorite.

“You mentioned your car is down the street. My van is right across the street.” He pointed to the van in question, just a couple of yards away. “We can hang out in it if you want, and I can drive you to your car when you’re good to go.” Realistically (meaning other than what you noticed during your countless hours of staring at him) you knew very little about Eddie. You knew he’s big on fantasy stuff since he’s the leader and founder of the Hellfire Club, you knew he doesn’t shy away from trouble, meaning the jocks at school. You knew he must not care what anyone else thinks, that must be why he’s never afraid to speak his mind.

But you also know about how whenever you do spot him at school, you can’t seem to really look away. Whenever he leaves the lunchroom early, you feel the urge to get up and go after him. You want to know what he’s doing. What goes through his head, what it is his friends at the table he sits at say to make him laugh so hard.

You know your interactions with Eddie have been minimal, but more than anything you want to know why you remember them so well, why you get that open-hole-in-your-stomach sense of longing when he goes just beyond your sight, just out of reach. Because, yeah, what the hell is up with that? “Sure, company wouldn’t kill me. I mean, I suppose you could, actually. I’m just gonna assume you don’t plan on it tonight.” You both started walking over and your statement made him laugh. That open hole feeling in your stomach appeared again.

“No, this is only the first time we’re hanging out. I’ve got to save that for later.” He continued to chuckle as he pulled the back door open, holding it for you. “After you, milady.” You did a little curtsy before climbing in. “Why, thank you, good sir.” He climbed in right after you, and left the door open, much to your relief. You were eager at the idea of getting a peak into Eddie Munson’s world, but doing so in a closed off, confined space would activate your asthma or something.

To your absolute delight, his van wasn’t clean. It wasn’t super messy either, but knowing you had got a couple of things to soak in about him made you feel giddy. There was a couple of fast food wrappers scattered around the rug he had back there. Some magazines that you were dying to pick up and read to see why he bought them in the first place, and pillows. You stared at them and tried not to think about whose head other than his once rested on them. Did he bring a lot of girls back here to hang out? God, you hoped that’s all they did with him. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.” He gave you a sheepish grin as he scratched the top of his head.

You couldn’t keep it in. “Do you?” He raised his eyebrows in confusion, so you added, “Usually expect company?”

He held your stare (thank god you were high because you would never be this brave, eye contact is usually something you can’t maintain) and that big smirk makes another appearance as he settled back into the pillows. “Not a whole lot people want to spend some quality time with the town freak.”

Okay, but did he mean quality time as quality time or did he mean it as quality time? If it was the latter, you were glad no one wanted it with him. Maybe there was hope for you, though you’d take either version. No, both. “And here I was thinking you were a rolling stone by choice.” You joked, and when he laughed, it sent electricity down your spine. There was a momentary lull in the conversation as you played with the rug, fingertips tracing over one of the patterns. “I don’t usually see you at these things, in fact, I’ve only seen you at one other.” You glanced up at his statement, surprised to find him already looking at you. “I uh-no, I don’t—parties are nice, um the idea of them, actually. I guess. The reality, not so much. I have to either be stupid drunk, high out of my mind, or both as I currently am.” You gestured down to yourself, wondering if you just imagined the way his eyes seemed to follow your hands’ path. “And even then, I can barely enjoy myself because I’m trying to make sure some guy doesn’t try to touch my boob while I’m not completely lucid.”

He made a face at that. “That’s fucking gross. I’ve got an idea.” “Produce.” You encouraged, tucking your legs to the side. “You tell me the name of every single guy who has tried to take advantage you like that, and I kick them in the teeth.” That got a laugh out of you, too easy for you to picture.

“As charming as that is, most of them are on sports teams, can’t fight one-on-one, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t get jumped. Kinda like you better not beat up.” You mused, shyly glancing up at him from beneath your lashes.

“Yeah?” He tucked an arm behind his head, the other resting on his stomach. “You just might be the first.” “Well, that’s a pity. I’m sorry everyone is so mean to you.” You don’t know why you’re apologizing for them, you just want to make sure he knows they’re the problem. Not him. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty cool.”

You already seem to have his attention, but he tensed up at that. “You think I’m cool? Alright, Trix, who put you up to this? Jason and co. waiting to jump me outside the van?”

You can tell he’s teasing but there’s something in his voice that makes you want to reassure him. Your gaze moved back down to the rug. “I just think you’re really…interesting, I guess. I like how you dress. I like how you don’t let all the shit they say,” you gestured vaguely to the party outside the van, “get to you enough to change yourself. And I like how you’re always you, you don’t pretend for even a second to not be.”

You wanted to continue, to go into depth about all the times you watched him during lunch, English, and every little scene in between. Tell him how he was a beacon for your attention, that you time your last water break at cheer practice to match up with the time his Hellfire sessions end so you can watch him walk to his van in the parking lot, a cigarette always firm between his lips. How you noticed he plays with his rings when he’s thinking hard about something, how animated his eyes get during a conversation he’s enjoying, how he he can’t avoid not talking with his hands or about how even if he thinks you don’t know him, or maybe you really don’t, you want to know him. You want to so badly.

But you didn’t continue, your mouth opened but you thought better of it, and swallowed it down instead, chest heaving a silent sigh. He wouldn’t be interested in you anyways. You risked a glance up at him, he hadn’t looked away from you, but his face was unreadable. Was he even listening?

“Well, shit.” He said, eventually. “You left me flabbergasted. Fuck, that’s gotta be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.” You hadn’t even said much so that made you sad. If you didn’t have feelings for him, you’d just tell him everything because it wouldn’t have that meaning but it does. It does have that meaning. Or at least, you want it to.

You could feel warmth flooding your cheeks, but you were determined to not let yourself get your hopes high. You’d been harboring all of this for two years now. One night wasn’t about to change anything. Come Monday morning, you’d be back to being passing strangers. Admiring him from afar, worked best. Why bother setting yourself up for disappointment?

“What can I say? Weed brings out the honesty in me.” You shrugged it off, sitting up straighter. Risking another glance back at him was too much of a gamble. You focused your attention on the street outside of the open door, a breeze slipping in. Wait a minute. Trix?

“Hey—why’d you call me that?” Now that you have a fair excuse to look at him, it thrilled you to discover he still hadn’t been looking away. His eyebrows pinched together as he relayed your conversation to figure out what you were referring to. “What? Trix?” You nodded and the corners of his lips curled right back into that big grin, teeth gleaming. “Because of the cereal mascot. I said I’ve only seen you at one other party.” He doesn’t offer up anything else, but as you squint at him, the realization slowly dawns on you.

Hannah McKellar was known for her parties’ strict themes. If you didn’t follow, you weren’t allowed in. Which usually sucked, because her parents’ liquor selections were vast and plenty. This past Halloween; however, she changed the theme of her Halloween party from “Your Worst Fear” to whatever the hell anyone wanted to be. She didn’t care all that much since she had started dating Brad Bishop. Word didn’t reach you until about five minutes into your arrival at the party, when you were sure you’d heard a record screech after stepping in and had to force your way through the crowd, ignoring all the looks and snickering from people as you passed them.

She had apologized profusely, and you had pretended not to mind all that much, but standing in a full blown rabbit costume while everyone else looked stupid sexy was too humbling. You’d spent the rest of the night explaining to anyone who asked (everyone) why you looked like the easter bunny. A stupid fucking rabbit was the mascot for that damn cereal brand. Eddie had been there. And he had seen you.

“Nooooo!” You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment, eyes squeezing shut to try and wake up from the nightmare. You could hear Eddie laughing and then some slight shuffling as he moved over to take your hands in his and pry them off of you. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought it was really cute. Didn’t realize you were so terrified of bunnies though, Trix." Your face was on fire, but you couldn’t help but smile shyly once you opened your eyes and saw him so close to you, with that look in his eyes. God, he was so pretty! It wasn’t fair. “I don’t like the way they thump their feet! It’s scary, and they look like they bite hard. Have you seen them from the front? They’re terrifying.”

“They’re harmless! Come on, they just focus on burrowing, eating, and for lack of a better term, fucking like rabbits.” He was teasing you again, and you were finding that to be a very appealing trait of his. “Trust me, I’ve read Watership Down.”

“Well, so have I and that’s precisely why I don’t trust them and their surprisingly sophisticated existence.” You must have said something good, because he absolutely lit up. “You read Watership Down? Holy shit, you’re right out of my dreams. Was that terminology insane, or what?”

“Every time I re-read it, I pronounce that Lore words differently, but I liked it. Can’t stand real rabbits, but the imagery in it is just too good.” Eddie looked like the cat who had gotten the cream, seemingly pleased. Maybe because you had a shared interest? Who cares, the way he looked at you right then had you feeling like you weren’t a background character to him. Not looking through you, he was looking at you.

You felt like that damn cat, too.

“You taking recommendations?” He looked a little shy as he asked, and you can’t possibly figure out why in the world he thought there was a chance that you’d say no to him. “Think you might like Lord of the Rings.”

You winced, and could see him deflate a little so you rushed to explain.

“I’ve already read Lord of the Rings. And The Hobbit. Junior year.” When you had seen him reading it one day at Lunch, you convinced your mom to drive you to the local bookstore so you could use your allowance to buy a copy. You had gone back to the shop for it’s prequel two days later. “Though, I’ve re-read them a couple of times since.” Both books looked beat up enough to have been owned by you for much longer than they actually had.

Eddie tilted head back and sighed before letting himself slump to the floor of the van with a thud.

You panicked, leaning forward to grasp his shoulder. Did he just faint on you? Oh, god. “Eddie? Are you okay?”

An eye cracked open to look at you, and your chest heaved with relief before you were glaring down at him with nothing short of amusement at his theatrics. It was funny now that you knew you weren’t going to have to break traffic laws to get him to the ER.

“Sorry, your mystique keeps knocking me out.” You can’t even think about how your hand is still holding his shoulder, not when he reaches his own hand out to cradle your side. You can feel the heat from his hands melting into your skin even through the fabric. God, this was gonna give you so much fuel for your bedtime fantasies tonight.

You smiled at the compliment, but your nose wrinkled a little. “Mystique?” You thought about how your routine consisted of school, cheer practice, and a lot of time spent in your room or trying to amuse myself. When you ditch school, it’s to just stay at home, you don’t even do anything good with that free time. You don’t go out much, and you’re normally in bed by 10. Pretty mundane, to you. “I’m hardly mysterious, Eddie. I’ve got as much unpredictability as a traffic light.”

“You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit, Trix.” He pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Please,” you scoffed, with a roll of your eyes. “There’s nothing all that special about me. Don’t get me wrong, I like how I look, I know I have a decent-ish life, but there’s nothing really all that surprising, I guess.” Not like there is with him, anyways.

He looked thoughtful for a minute, tilting his head. “I wouldn’t consider going missing for a year as relatively expected.” Your eyes widened in surprise, mouth opening and closing a few times. Your silence seemed to make him a little uncomfortable, or maybe embarrassed.

“You, uh stopped showing up a couple of weeks into my junior year, so I think you would’ve been a sophomore, right? We had Spanish together, actually. And then you just stopped showing up. I thought, maybe you’d moved away, but then you came back the next year. Only you were still a sophomore.”

You pulled away from him, moving to sit criss cross again, as you could feel the mortification oozing over you like a nasty, thick slime. Out of all the things Eddie could have noticed, why’d it have to be that?

He didn’t say anything when you moved away, just watched you carefully. It was obvious he didn’t expect you to tell him why you’d disappeared, he was just stating his observation, but the story behind your missing year of high school was still a sore spot, one that you didn’t ever think would mend completely. It was the number one cause of tension in your life, especially between you and your parents.

“You okay? Didn’t mean to bring up something unpleasant.” You could see him rubbing the back of his neck from your peripheral vision before scooting closer towards you. “It’s okay. I just, I wasn’t expecting that,” But you should have, because if you’d learned anything about Eddie during your observations, it was how unpredictable he could be. “You’re the first person to actually have noticed. Or at least, say something about it.”

“Trix, I promise you, I’m the last person who would judge you for getting held back,” If only it had been that simple. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve never thought any less of you.”

He nudged his shoulder up against yours, and the tender look he gave you made you want to cry, tell him the truth and kiss him all at once. Not that you were thinking about his pretty pink lips, or how you’d barely even have to angle your head up to just—

“There you are!” The other door to the van flung open, and you and Eddie both flinched away from each other in surprise. Judy appeared, holding a hand out to you. “I think I’m all done here. Tired. Let's go home.” Your eyes scanned over her, and you could see the wet sheen over her eyes. She was holding back tears. She looked stiff and impatient, a startling contrast to the last time you’d seen her cuddled up to Steve.

You turned your attention to Eddie, only to find that he’d already gathered himself, staring straight through you and at Judy with no readable emotion. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought he hadn’t just been trying to establish a connection with you.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to acknowledge any of that, your heart plummeted from its place in your chest, to somewhere deep inside of you where the disappointment you had convinced yourself you’d feel if you ever worked up the courage to approach him, lay in waiting. “Okay,” You mumbled, proud of the way your voice didn’t waver despite the fact that you were pretty sure the guy you’d been mooning over wanted to pretend like he didn’t know you. You were in his damn van with him! You crawled forward and hopped out of said vehicle. Judy immediately looped her arm through yours, guiding you down to where she knew you parked your car. You noticed Steve, standing in the middle of his walkway, looking very obviously upset as he watched you two. You turned your head just a little more to see Eddie walking towards him, past him, and then into the house again. He didn't look back at you. Not for a single second.

“I got a ride with Dina, but do you mind if I sleepover tonight?” Truthfully, all you wanted to do was go home, scrub the night off you, and sink into your bed to hide from that giant fucking weight that’s pressing down on your chest, but you know nothing good will come from you being alone. You’ll just end depressed over it, you already can tell.

Besides, Judy needed you and this would provide you with a distraction, so you agreed.

As you drove past the loud house in your beetle, you couldn’t help but rake your gaze across it, hoping you’d see him somewhere looking back. You didn’t. You ignored your chest aches as you drove down the rest of the quiet street.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x reader smut #Eddie munson x reader angst #stranger things #stranger things fics #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things vol 2 #Joseph quinn #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #st #eddie munson x black!reader

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curiositydooropened · 1 year

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Better Off - Part Two

Four years since Argyle's wedding, Robin invited you and the gang to her boss's lake house. Hoping good memories will be made, you're forced to wrestle with some ghosts of your past.

This fic runs in the same Universe as My Whole Life, Too.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Wordcount: 14,132

Warnings: second chance romance, angst, fluff, sex and sex adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), recreational drinking and drug use, mentions of pregnancy and parenthood, mentions of the loss of loved ones

Navigation • Masterlist • Part One

---

Your gaze blurred on ribbons of gold and ivory, stretched and pulled and flipped as a man in candy stripes worked his taffy on its puller. The air smelled sticky sweet of vanilla and lemon and warmth, and you bundled tighter into your sweater with each burst of cold air and ding of a bell at the door.

Another worker with rolled sweets pressed and smacked them onto the countertop, the scattering of beads pulling your focus and stirring you from your daze. She offered a sample with a kind smile, and you thanked her before popping the sticky sour drop into your mouth.

It ached at the stress sore just between your teeth and molars, but you supposed you deserved the slight agony. With a sigh, you dropped your shoulders and allowed Robin to shove you gently back to the cobblestones streets, the outside air a misty chill. Large, grey clouds loomed in the distance, the forecasted storm apt weather for your current state of mind.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Robin groaned for the four hundredth time that day.

You managed to plaster on a smile, though you could feel the dishonesty behind it, and gave her a hand squeeze. “Shut up, please.”

“Yeah, Robin, we’re fine,” Nancy agreed sidling up on her other side, that special Nancy-Wheeler-determination etched between her brows. “All of this shit needed to be aired out anyway. You just facilitated it.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “That makes me feel so much better.”

You shrugged. “I’m glad it’s all coming out now, when I have you two for support.”

Nancy’s facade nearly broke then, the glimmer of emotion in her eyes, but she gave a curt nod. “Me too.”

Robin groaned and started back on your path down the western side of the road. This little lakeside town was full of antique shops and souvenir stores. Every store had something you liked, in a black or navy, or in a Devil red or forest green, smoked charcoal or honeyed yellow. You’d given up a few stores ago now, understanding the Universe was just mocking you.

Other than the looming storm clouds and the lingering guilt from the night before, you supposed you were having a lovely, if not much-needed girls day. In any other scenario, you’d be delighted to walk such a pristine little village, smelling the early summer buds and tasting at each little eatery along the route. Plus, the company was ideal.

“Robs, I’m coming to visit you immediately, I hope you know,” you linked your arm with hers and fell into step. “You’ll never see me because I’ll spend the entire trip holed up in a bakery, elbow-deep in baguettes, but I’ll be there. You’ll teach me French?”

“Bien sûr,” she snickered, tugging you into a vintage clothing shop.

The window display had a little black dress á la Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and the place smelled of mothballs and rose-scented perfume. It reminded you a bit of your grandmother, on your mother’s side. She had an oversized hatbox that was passed down to you, chock full of love letters from soldiers in the war.

A similar hatbox sat near the register, pale pink and pressed satin, and you jimmied the top off to see if any secrets lay inside. No love letters, but a collection of multicolored silk scarves. You pulled one from the top, white with thin, navy Breton stripes and tied it around your neck. “What do you think, Robin? Will I fit right in?”

Robin abandoned her post near an oversized button bin, hands already full, and waggled her eyebrows, dropping her haul to the countertop. “It’s perfect,” she chuckled, caressing it between her thumb and forefinger.

You watched her blue eyes scan your features, smile softening, and eventually her padded shoulders dropped in a sigh.

“You can’t run away to France with me.”

You smiled at that. “Why not?”

She shook her fringe from her eyes. “Eddie’s not mad at you, you know.”

You swallowed, nodded. “I know. I’m still going to apologize.”

“And for what it’s worth,” she dug through the box in front of you, avoiding your gaze. “Steve did love you, maybe does love you.”

You sighed and untied the scarf around your throat, suddenly suffocated by the stuffy air in here. “Steve loves the idea of me.” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, remembering you were talking to his best friend too. “I just mean… I don’t think it’s fair to start something again when I can’t be certain how I’d like to finish it.”

Robin nodded. “I can appreciate that stance. It’s very… mature.” She commented with the flair for dramatics that would put Eddie to shame, pulling a rose-covered scarf from the box with a flourish and tying it around her head.

You snorted.

“Guys,” Nancy’s voice was so meek from the corner of the room, you barely recognized it. When you turned, she was holding the world’s smallest knit sweater, navy blue with a great white whale, and she was crying.

—

You recognized the calm from ten years of coastal living. That sweet, soft lull in birdsong, the electricity in the air. Clouds blackened the sky, and off-shore docks groaned under whitecaps’ wake. You stood in your room, looking out the tiny window at the billowing tops of trees, fingers idling at the satin ribbon around your neck, Robin’s treat. You couldn’t focus in the silence, only hearing the thrum of your heart against your ribcage. You could sense Eddie in the room next door, could feel smoke and anxiety attached to a string around your finger, reminding you of the atrocities you’d enacted. Calm before the storm.

With a deep breath and a decided snap of tension, you toed out of the room, floorboard creaking with each step toward atonement.

Only, Eddie’s room was empty, door wide, belonging strewn about like he’d moved in. His window was bigger than yours, curtains drawn and window cracked. A cool breeze whipped around your knees, billowing the soft chiffon of your skirt. You sighed and crossed, moving a handmade ashtray from the window sill to the side table. A well-loved copy of A Wizard of Earthsea sat beside the lamp, dog-eared to all Hell.

You tugged the window down and latched it when something glinted to the North, catching your eye.

From this vantage, you could just make out the tip of the dock, and the boat in its mooring, rocking mercilessly back and forth. You cursed and turned heel to find Steve waiting in the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes turned up at you like he’d been waiting and didn’t know what to say.

“Did you guys wind the boat up?” You asked before he had a chance to speak.

He opened his mouth, brows furrowed, and that was enough of an answer to have you shoving past him and down the staircase to slip into your sneakers and out the front door.

“What are you-?” Robin called out from her cozy spot on the sofa.

You waved her off with a “Be right back!” and let the slap of rubber to wood lead you down the winding staircase, past the patio and fire pit, and to the end of the dock. Halfway there, you heard Steve calling after you, heard his curses, the distinct thud of his own feet on your tail.

The boat swayed under its awning. Steve’s voice was lost on the wind. Waves thrashed against rocky shores.

“Hold that steady!” You called after him, pointing to the bow, and he rushed as instructed, wind whipping at auburn hair, the navy collar of his polo.

The boat had been placed under the dock, tied to a safeguard by a tight rope, but you knew that if it wasn’t cranked upwards and out of the water, the metal casing surrounding it could cause some serious damage, depending on the intensity of the storm. And, as you put all of your strength and effort into cranking the oversized metal wheel, the storm began to show you just how intense it could get.

Wind rushed between your legs, stretched wide for leverage, slicking your skirt to your thighs as the sky opened up and rain began to pour. A deluge of oversized drops, ice cold, that trampled your hair and soaked your skin, slipping your fingers from their handhold. You cursed, but Steve was right there to help, hair stuck to his temples, biceps flexed as he cranked the boat upward and out of the water.

You hated that you couldn’t look away, frigid wet to the bone, standing between Steve and the house, waves spraying the shoreline, unmoving as he stared back at you, blinking away rainwater, licking it from his lips.

A crack of thunder startled you both, and you ran, slipped on the wet floorboards of the dock to be caught in strong arms, hands that gripped your cardigan at your waist line and pulled you in close, warm, led you to an abandoned beach hut to wait out the storm.

The space was musty and dark and damp, and you were uncomfortable under skin-slicked clothes, pressed against a splintering wooden bench with molding life vests in neon orange. Steve hovered over you, breath heavy in his warm chest, droplets from his hair shaken into your eyelashes and across the tops of your cheeks. His hands remained on your waist, a tether, a buoy, anchoring himself to you and you to the ground for each roll of thunder from above.

Rain pelted the tin roof too loud to hear the racing of your heart, too loud to hear your own anxiety screaming at you to leave, to run back up the hill to safety, too loud to stop you.

Steve’s grip tightened on your waist, tugging at the material of your skirt, and the tip of his nose met your temple, ice-cold, in a line. Then his cheek was pressed to yours, stubble and sunscreen. His breath warmed the lobe of your ear.

You helped him lift you onto the bench, the whole thing wobbling under your weight, but you had faith in his grasp on you, his weight between your legs as he helped to hitch your skirt up one thigh, material tacky to goose-pimpled flesh. His hands were ice-cold, but you were on fire as he trailed fingertips from your hip to your knee, hooking your leg up higher on his hip.

Another roll of thunder wracked through his shoulders, a quake around your frame that you squaring him to face you. His expression was unreadable, pupils wide, but lips drawn downward, jaw clenched. His far-off gaze lingered on your lips, and he licked his own, pawing at the underside of your thigh.

This was the moment of no return. You knew it. You knew he could feel it. Something deep inside was clawing its way up, trying to remind you of all of the heartache you’d endured in the last four years, but the rain wouldn’t let up, and his hand kneaded your flesh in a way that felt so right, so familiar, felt like home.

You caught his elbow to stop his movements, and he tensed, shoulders receding in defeat, like he’d just been waiting for you to stop him, like his mind had been racing like your own.

You breathed his name, like a prayer, and his gaze snapped back to yours. “Touch me.”

Drowning your better judgement, you trailed your fingers down the rope of muscles in his forearm to grasp at his wrist and guide his hand to where you needed him most.

God, it felt like coming home. Steve’s hands were made for you, a perfect form to all of the places you needed him, as if he’d made you himself. You were plaster, and he Michaelangelo. He flattened creases formed over time from wear and stress, and kneaded them smooth and soft.

He stretched and hit places that had your eyelids alight with stardust, places you hadn’t hit in years. Your fingernails caught on the breadth of his shoulders and the rain against the roof dampened the sinful sounds pouring from each of your open mouths. He worked you like he’d been born to do it, a sailor devoted to a life at sea, or rather returning from too many years landlocked, eager and determined.

He muttered affirmations hot and damp against the shell of your ear that had you keening, begging for him to keep going, desperate to stay afloat, until the band snapped and the buoy became untethered, rope unraveling within you.

The rainfall slowed and the sunlight fell in shallow waves across patches in the siding. Your breath evened against the damp planes of Steve’s throat. Clarity began to sharpen the softened edges. A chill wracked through you, soaked through, and you forced him from your space. Gently, you hopped from the bench, skirt falling around shaky knees.

The beach hut door opened with a creak, and you stepped out into the sun.

—

Your eyes remained unfocused on the candlelight, too warm and itchy under an afghan and dry clothes to listen to the nostalgia being shared in the adjacent seating room. You hadn’t left the dining table, reassuring everyone you were fine, just exhausted, when you hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of your dinner. All you could focus on was Steve’s grip around the top of his beer bottle, condensation dripping between the soft pads of his fingers.

“Hey.”

You startled at the intrusion, and tried to blink away the residual flickers in your eyesight, focusing instead on the forlorn look on Jonathan’s face as he scooted into the seat beside you, offering a chocolate bar. You took it with a soft smile, peeling back the plastic wrapping and hunkering further into your patched blanket.

“Remember last month when we were eating pizza at 3AM, laughing about how crazy this trip would be,” he released that cheeky half-smile you hadn’t seen since he’d heard the news.

You snorted, snapping off a section of chocolate to let melt on your tongue. You rolled your eyes, passing it back for him to break off a piece. “Yeah, how’re you feeling?”

He sighed, ran a hand down his face, shrugged. You watched him stare into the flame for a while.

When he didn’t speak, you reached your hand out to take his, and he met your gaze again with a wry smile, squeezing your hand. “At least I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

“You will?” You grinned.

He shrugged. “Unless Nancy wants to move overseas. But if that’s the case, I suppose we’ll just take you with us.”

Your heart ached at the sentiment, and you felt your emotions start to stick in your throat. He was moving to be with her. He was dropping everything he loved, everything he had, to be with Nancy, wherever her dreams took her. And although that made you wildly happy for them, it also further drove home that ache in the pit of you, that spot that hurt.

A pair of knuckles wrapped at the doorway, stirring your attention from Jonathan. Nancy and Eddie stood side-by-side, hands shoved into pockets or hid in the sleeves of oversized sweaters. Nancy mumbled a goodnight, tiny frame dwarfed beside the gangly man beside her, both of their curls haloed in candlelight.

“I’ll go with you,” Jonathan hoisted himself upright, planting a soft kiss to your cheek before he followed Nancy up the winding staircase and into the darkness beyond.

Eddie lingered, shuffling closer to break a piece off your candy bar on the table. “Hey,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” you sighed. You hadn’t spoken to him all day. More accurately, you’d been avoiding him all day.

Another burst of laughter echoed from the living room. Eddie nodded toward the kitchen and moved the chocolate to his cheek to ask, “Wanna chat?”

With a swallow and a nod, you pulled your chair out from the table and gathered your unfinished dinner plate to follow him into the kitchen, discarding your blanket at your place setting.

Eddie sidled up to a counter, silhouetted in moonlight, and he stayed silent while you scraped your scraps into the garbage and rinsed your plate. When you were finished, you hoisted yourself to the countertop beside him, shoulder’s hunched, heels kicking at the baseboard cabinet. The light flickered warm from the other rooms, laughter trickling in in intervals of hushed tones.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you both simultaneously, followed by a snicker of understanding. You elbowed him, and he swayed dramatically, sinking his weight back into you.

“Shut up,” you scolded. “I’m actually sorry. I was being a dick. You did nothing wrong.”

“That’s not true,” Eddie countered. “You didn’t deserve what I said. At least, not the way I said it.”

You sighed and linked your arm with his, resting your head atop his bony shoulder. You felt the press of lips to the crown of your head, his cheek to your hair.

“You do know I just want you to be happy, right? And that I love you?”

“I know,” you smiled, tilting your head to kiss at the seam of his band tee. “I love you too.”

“I, uh…” He raked a hand down his face, callouses catching on stubble. “I talked to Steve today, while you guys were out. He told me what he said to you.”

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I told him to grow up.”

You pulled yourself upright to see that Cheshire grin poking dimples into pale cheeks.

“And that him hating it just made me want to do you even more. With him watching.”

“Eddie!” You shoved at his shoulder, and once again he sunk further into you, hiding a cackle behind his hand. “You perv.”

“Come on, you know he’d be into that.”

Your face heated at the idea. Your mind flashed back to that dark look in Steve’s eyes, in the beach hut, watching you get off on his thick, warm fingers, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the steady rise and fall of his broad chest beneath your palms.

“I would to,” Eddie elbowed you out of your daydream, and you landed a punch, harder this time.

“Stop!”

He snickered and dodged your next attack, rubbing the sore spot you’d left on his bicep. “You’re fiesty under emotional duress.” He grinned. “What does it say about me that I find that really sexy?”

“That you need help,” you snorted.

He caught your wrist and pressed your hand to his sternum, deepening his voice. “Yeah I do, sweetheart.”

You scoffed as his rumble turned into a laugh, and since you couldn’t take your hand back, you gripped his t-shirt to pull him closer, resting your forehead to his chest. He tucked you under his jaw and released your wrist in favor of wrapping you in a tight hug. Cigarette smoke and sunscreen and rumbled laughter and lithe limbs and still, somehow, it wasn’t enough. Something dammed at your throat, and you clenched every muscle in your body to rid yourself of the anxiety building.

Eddie began soothing ministrations up and down your spine. “You need to talk to him.” He mumbled into your temple, breath hot and chocolatey against your skin. “I mean, really talk to him. Like just the two of you, hash it out for hours. You get out everything you need to. Let him tell his part. We both know you won’t be able to make a decision until you get everything out on the table and really look at it, as a whole.”

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Make a decision?”

He pulled away, pressing soft hands to your cheeks, dark eyes beneath a furrowed brow. “Promise me something?”

You hummed.

“Promise me you’ll talk to him sometime this week. It can be right before we leave, for all I care. But I need you to tell me what you figured out before you get on that plane.”

There was something hopeful in his gaze, features softened to that lost little boy you’d tutored. There were too many meanings behind his words, too many things that spun in your mind and caught somewhere in the ventricles of your heart. “Eddie…” You muttered.

He released your face and wiped nervous hands to his jeans, suddenly shier than you’d seen him in years. “Christ, I didn’t mean it as like an ultimatum or anything. I’m not that guy.” Not like Steve. He scratched at the back of his neck, took a few steps backward. “I just need to know if I need to hide the liquor bottles or if Hawkins’ is getting a new resident.”

God, why did each phrase feel like an extra stab in the gut?

“I’m sorry,” Eddie stammered a laugh, wrapping ringed fingers against the flat plane of his chest. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.” He never drank more than one.

You reached your hand out, stretched all the way across the gap until the tips of your fingers brushed the silver of his rings.

He sighed and took your grasp, allowed you to pull him back into you.

“I promise I’ll talk to him,” you chewed on the inside of you cheek, ducked to catch his gaze. “And I promise I’ll talk to you.”

The dimple tucked into his cheek beside those plump, pink lips, stretched thin in an awkward smile. He nodded. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Then, he leaned to press his lips to yours. It was chaste, soft, a cascade of curls around your face, and lithe fingertips against your cheekbone. Your eyes didn’t have time to flutter closed. Then he was kissing your knuckles and bending his slender frame into a dramatic bow.

“Goodnight, m’lady.”

You managed a choked laugh. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

—

Kneading dough was grounding, cathartic. It made you feel like everything was right in the world. Soft, sticky between flour-caked knuckles, the dull thud against the rolling board, the squeaky wheels of the rolling pin, the sweet smell of apples caramelizing in a nearby mixing bowl, all of it felt like heaven to you. You were at peace with an apron tied around your waist, lakeside wind sweeping in through the opened window, oven making the small space a bit stuffy and warm.

The others were down at the patio, or out on the water, you weren’t sure. You stayed behind to think, to clear your mind, to distract yourself from the constant tipping of a scale one direction or the other. You’d tossed and turned all night thinking of Steve’s hands and Eddie’s lips and the complications to your life that each one brought. So you decided midmorning should be spent centering yourself, alone with your craft, and at peace.

You’d pressed the dough into its tin, trimming the edges and balling the scraps to be rolled and cut into strips for a lattice work top. You poured the apple slice mixture, all cinnamon and sugar and nutmeg and clove, watching the sun sparkle against their wet flesh. You indulged in licking the spoon, tangy and sticky. Then you sprinkled flour to your surface again to start rolling out the remaining dough, humming to yourself as the birds chirped outside.

You flattened and cut and worked a lattice and ate the scraps, admiring your handiwork before you placed it into the oven and set the little wind-up timer on the stovetop. It was shaped like an egg. Your mom had one when you were young. It disappeared somewhere over time, or in the move. You contemplated stealing this one.

You poured yourself some fresh-squeezed lemonade, tart and sweet, and leaned yourself against the countertop. You watched the sparkle of waves just off-shore and sipped and tried not to allow your mind to wander until the subject of your wandering mind entered your kitchen with mussed hair and sun kissed skin, pulling expensive sunglasses from the freckled bridge of his nose.

“Smells amazing,” Steve smiled, reaching past you for a glass to pour himself some lemonade. You watched his forearm handle the full pitcher with care. You watched the length of his throat as he drank. You watched his tongue dart to lick a drop from the corner of pink lips. He set himself against the counter opposite you, ten feet away and still too close.

“Where’s everyone else?” You asked, praying for Robin to come prancing in with a bucket of ice cold water.

“On the boat. They just left.” He set his glass beside him. “We should talk about yesterday.”

You turned to start the washing up, sink full of mixing bowls and measuring cups. The counter was white with flour. You turned the tap on hot, and the rushing of water into a metal sink had your brain buzzing with images of rain against the tin roof of the hut. You swallowed. “Yesterday was a mistake.”

You weren’t even sure you said it out loud, didn’t dare look to him for confirmation. You just held your front two fingers under the water to gauge temperature, although to be honest, you wouldn’t be able to tell scalding from freezing right now anyway.

“Sure, yeah, totally,” his tone was oddly light. Out of your peripherals, you caught him entering your space, sidling up to the opposite side of you now. He smelled of expensive cologne, deliciously Steve. “Or… we could just make some adjustments to our truce.”

You looked up at him then, caught breathless by the dark look in his eyes. You swallowed. “What?”

He shrugged, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Well, we agreed to be civil and not bring up the past.” He held your gaze. “We only have a couple of days left. Might as well… I don’t know, make the most of it?” His jaw was firm, but there was something playful in his tone, a fire behind his eyes you hadn’t seen in years.

You scoffed. “You’re serious?”

He shrugged again, leaned into your space to brush flour from your shoulder, sweeping your hair back as he did so. God, he was good. “You had fun, didn’t you?”

“Steve,” you peeled yourself away, scrubbing melted sugar from the rim of a measuring cup.

“Come on,” he boxed you in, his frame folding around yours, warm and broad and strong. “You’re on vacation.” The tip of his nose found the shell of your ear, sending sparks from skull to tailbone. “You deserve to relax, babe.”

Babe. So flippant, so casual. It’s what he called you, before, when it was just the two of you playing house in hotel rooms. You elbowed him off of you, grateful when he respected your boundaries and stood a few more feet away.

With a sigh, you turned off the faucet, only the singular measuring cup squeaky clean. You dried your hands on a hand towel embroidered with dairy cow and its milkmaid, and you turned to face Steve.

He had a fantastic pokerface, to add to the list of vast differences between he and his housemate. Where Eddie showed every last thought that came into his mind, Steve remained stoic, strong brow furrowed, jaw tight, keen eyes watching your every movement. He kept his shoulders squared, but lax, and his strong arms kept him upright against the lip of the counter, strong arms you were desperate to have wrapped around you again.

“Be civil, no bringing up the past, and have fun while it lasts,” you agreed before your brain caught up with your words.

All at once, Steve crowded your space again, pressing your backside to the damp countertop, an arm to either side of your hips, dipping his nose to meet yours.

You pressed your fingertips to his chest to push him away a few more inches. “Don’t call me babe.”

His lips split into a grin at that, and he chuckled a low rumble in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”

He was eager, so eager, and you felt the buzz in your waist, the flutter under your sternum. You watched his tongue wet soft, pink lips, and were suddenly reminded of the third grade, of Tommy H.’s birthday, of the surprise smooch in a treehouse and of wanting to savor that kiss for the rest of your life. As Steve dipped his head low once more, you turned to face the oven, ducking away.

“And I’m not going to kiss you.” An odd boundary you didn’t know you had until it was there, presenting itself in a panic clawing at your chest. You just knew if you kissed him, you’d be done for. You’d be packing everything you owned into a U-haul and signing the lease next to his name. Just like Eddie said.

Steve’s stoic facade seemed to falter for a split second before he nodded and pulled away. He eyed you for a beat too long before he lowered his voice to ask, “Am I allowed to kiss you?” And the implications in his tone had your knees weakening.

You swallowed in a vain attempt to lubricated a parched throat, and nodded.

He emitted a groan from somewhere deep, and you bit down hard on your lip as you watched King Steve Harrington sink to his knees before you, hands traveling up your skirt to knead at the flesh of your thighs like it grounded him, like it made everything right in the world.

He tugged your shirt free from the waistband of your apron and skirt, watching you, amber eyes painted black. His breath was hot against your stomach, your hip bone. “Can you see the front door?” He asked.

You peeled your gaze from him to look through the entry way to the front door. You nodded.

“Good. Keep watch for me, sweet girl.”

—

“Scale of 1-10, how hot do I look?” Robin did a pose, hair stuffed under a wide-brimmed hat and blue blazer sleeves rolled.

“Ten,” you and Nancy affirmed simultaneously, blotting your own pink lipsticks in the full-length mirror on the back of Robin’s bedroom door. You wore a low-cut blouse with flowy sleeves, and Nancy looked sleek in black, and she helped stick a bobby pin into your scalp when a curl threatened to fall out of place.

“What are the odds there’s a single, hot lesbian looking for a hook up?”

“At a country western bar?” Nancy peered back at your friend, and you chuckled.

“Robin,” you reassured. “I promise there will be at least one single, hot lesbian looking for a hook up.”

Robin sighed. “Yeah. Me.”

She’d picked the venue for your night out, spotted it on your walk through town the previous morning, and convinced the group to go after their late evening naps. The sky had started to soak in peaches and golds, and the warmth had cooled from a breeze that billowed curtains and chilled your fevered cheeks. You’d spent the day distracted, praying no one would notice the smile that ached at the corners of your lips. You were thankful for the excuse to be chipper.

“Ladies, I need advice,” Argyle called from beyond the door, and you gently led Nancy to the side so you could open it to meet him. He wore a leather vest with a spearmint button-up beneath it, and in his hands were two ties, one a shocking pink, the other a bolo with a cubic design in brass.

“Bolo, always,” you confirmed.

“That’s what I said!” Eddie called from the next room over.

“Alright,” Argyle nodded and toed back to his own room to put his tie on in a mirror.

Nancy slipped out beside you to meet Jonathan at the top of the stairs. Your heart ached in your chest when you watched his lips meet her temple, and his hand slip into hers. They shared sweet words and walked down the stairs together.

Robin shoved past you. “Sorry, gotta brush my teeth. Will you check on Steve for me? You know he always takes the longest.”

You stood in her doorway for a long moment, staring at the wood of Steve’s bedroom door from across the hall. Your hands clammed up at your sides, but you released a held breath and closed the distance to wrap your knuckles against the panels.

“Come in,” he called from inside, and you turned the handle and pushed yourself inside.

Steve’s room was a mirror of your own, window facing the water, slanted ceiling, headboard against the opposite wall. His bed was neatly made, pillows stacked at attention just like his mom taught him. The bedside lamp illuminated everything soft and warm.

Steve stood at a dresser putting on his watch, forest green polo taught over the muscles of his back. He glanced up at you when you entered, cheeks turning up in a grin. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you breathed back, propping yourself against the wall beside the door. “Robin wanted me to tell you to hurry up.”

“I’m ready,” he held his hands out to show himself off, and you admired the stretch of denim across his thighs.

“You look good,” you affirmed, swallowing when he closed the distance between you, eyes flickering to the hallway just to your right hand side.

When the coast was apparently clear, he placed a hand on your waist. “So do you. Tonight should be fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you nodded. You felt giddy again, like he had you pressed up against the school lockers, hiding from the principal between classes.

“Yeah?” His voice graveled, and he pressed himself even closer, wedging his thigh between your legs.

“Dingus! You ready or what?” Robin shouted, and all at once, Steve was gone, his warmth replaced by cool breeze.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he groaned, fidgeting with the watch at his wrist. “Thanks for the help,” he waved it your direction, and you furrowed your brow before noticing Robin’s head poked through the doorway.

She narrowed her eyes your direction, but grabbed Steve’s other wrist to lead him out and down the stairs.

You took a minute to calibrate, a few calming breaths, before you followed them. When you rounded into the hallway, you startled at the sight of Eddie in his own doorway, lithe frame covered in black, damp curls hung in his eyes. That dimple carved deep into his cheek.

“You look smoking hot,” he greeted.

You rolled your eyes but hooked your hand into his elbow and let him escort you down the stairs to meet the others.

—

Tequila was great after the initial burn. Once the tang of lime shocked your taste buds, you were smooth sailing. The music was live and loud. The room filled with smoke and the sweet smell of alcohol. Wooden walls were lined with neon beer logos and antlers. A dart board sat in one corner, a pool table in another. You were warmed from the inside, tingling fingertips and toes.

The first round alone had you doing things you ought not, like catching Steve’s gaze over the top of Nancy’s head. He’d been staring, lips glossy and eyes hungry, and you couldn’t look away until Argyle bought round two.

Round three had you on the dance floor, pressed against the warm rumble of Eddie’s chest while he hummed a balad just under the crooning of the band’s lead singer. Flirting with Eddie was another thing you ought not do, but holding back felt impossible, tequila or no. Especially when he held you so close, thigh between your knees, swaying you back and forth to some slow and sultry tune.

“Have I told you you look smoking hot tonight?” He indulged in another rake of your features, not shy from peaking down your blouse.

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth to avoid the smile aching at them and managed to shrug. “Might’ve mentioned it.”

He chuckled, shaking his hair from his eyes. “Yeah, I like that top.”

“I look better without it,” you countered, cocking a brow.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” His dark eyes shone under dim lighting, and his plump lips turned up at the corners. He was all curls, cigarettes and spearmint, and something in his eyes sank your heart. It was Eddie’s heart on his sleeve again, that poker face slipping just long enough to show you the longing beyond the lust.

You swallowed and placed a hand to his cheek, thumbing over scruff and stubble. His name caught in your throat.

“Song’s almost over,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose with yours. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded, and the air was expelled from your lungs when he dipped you low. He gripped your thigh at his waist, and you felt the trail of his nose up your sternum and throat as he pulled you upright, breathless and warmed.

Your audience whooped and hollered from their high-top.

Stage shy, you allowed Eddie to take your hand and tug you back to the table. His grip was strong, thumb administering distraction circles upon your wrist. Nancy slid you a full glass of iced water, and you thanked her for it.

“Okay, why the fuck are you both so hot?” Robin scoffed, chugging her own red plastic cup of water.

“Born this way, Buckley. Don’t act so shocked.” Eddie reached over to flick her forehead, and she swatted at him.

“She’s right though,” Jonathan pitched in, saucy grin playing on boyish features. He slung an arm around Nancy’s shoulder, and she grimaced before shoving him off.

“Yeah, you guys should make a porno,” Argyle nodded, mustache turned down in thought before he snapped his fingers. “Baker and the Beast.”

“Jesus Christ,” you snorted, thankful for the water to hide your warming face. You took a long drink, praying for the ice to cool you down.

“Sex Dungeon Master,” Robin chimed in, and you nearly did a spit take.

“Full Metal Banging,” Steve piped in to everyone’s surprise. You looked up at him to see a playful smirk across those sinful lips, and he shrugged, nodded, took another sip of his beer. “I’d watch it.” Something in you ached at the low tones of his voice.

Eddie shook a ringed finger Steve’s direction. “I fucking knew it! I knew you liked to watch. Harrington, you dirty dog!”

Steve merely shrugged, pokerface stoic again while his eyes offered you something more salacious. You wondered if the rest of them caught him staring the way you did, wondered if they could tell what transpired between the two of you in the beach hut, in the kitchen.

A new song kicked on, much faster, more familiar than the last, and Eddie finally released your hand, now cold and clammy, to snap his fingers in Robin’s direction. “Come on, Buckley. Your turn.”

Robin sighed and extended a hand for him to take. “Fine, but no cleavage licking.”

“Come on,” Eddie whined, and before they trailed off to the dance floor, you heard him say, “I washed my tits before we came!”

You laughed and fell into a spot beside Nancy, avoiding Steve’s gaze as you drank your water and attempted to sober yourself up. Maybe three was your limit, maybe two, but you felt just primed enough to give away all of your secrets.

“Nancy,” Argyle stood from his seat and tightened the bolo around his neck. “May I have this dance?”

Before the warmth of Nancy beside you had been replaced by air conditioning and the smell of stale beer, a strong hand had slipped itself between your knuckles.

“Jonathan, watch the table,” Steve said, pulling you onto the dance floor.

Under a swirl of lights, and to the fast rhythm of bass and drums, you were tucked close to Steve’s front and backed toward the center of the dance floor. People swung and dipped around you, and Steve bobbed and weaved your way through them with laughter rumbling deep in his chest. God, you missed that sound.

He was wildly off tempo, and a little off-balance, but maybe that was the tequila affecting your equilibrium. He had one hand to the small of your back, the other swinging wildly, and he stepped on your toes more than once.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” you leaned in to shout into the shell of his ear.

He pulled back to shoot you an incredulous look before pulling you in close again, breath hot on the side of your face. “You taught me how to dance.”

You shook your head, but released a laugh that bubbled high in your chest. “I did not!”

“Yes you did,” he argued. “At prom. I told you I didn’t know how to dance, and you promised you’d teach me. So if I’m horrible, that’s on you.”

You smiled into his chest, and allowed your mind to wander. You wondered what she would think of you now, senior-you, prom-going-you. You wondered how she’d feel, swept around a dance floor in King Steve’s arms all these years later.

You could still remember walking down the staircase to meet him. You could still see the flush of his cheeks when he saw you, could remember the distinct kick of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey, dingus!” Robin’s voice sliced through your memories. You blinked back into focus to find her and Eddie beside you. Eddie was using Robin’s hand to swat at Steve’s side.

“Will you two grow up?” Steve scolded, ever the dad of the group.

“We have a question for you two,” she ignored him, continuing to prod at his bicep and then yours when he spun you to use as a human shield.

“What?” You laughed.

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” Robin’s voice carried over the music, swam in your head, heated you from the inside out as you felt the stares of intrigue from your dance partner and hers.

You snorted, shook your head, and avoided their gaze. “Yeah, I’m not answering that.”

Robin booed you.

“You’re so drunk!” You laughed.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie grinned, sidling up beside Steve. He had mischief in his eyes. “We can handle it.”

Steve squared up then, stopped your sway, and his mouth stretched into an equally devilish grin. “Yeah, Munson can handle it.”

You cocked a brow, still in Steve’s grasp, and looked straight into Eddie’s big, brown eyes, conjuring a memory you knew would earn a reaction from the both of them. “Campsite at the coast? Back of the car?”

Eddie nodded, big, dramatic, hair swinging in front of his face. He pointed at Robin. “That’s what I said!”

“Holy shit, Harrington, you want some ice for that burn?” Robin cackled, high-fiving you and Eddie both.

When you found Steve’s gaze again, he was blinking back at you, mouth slightly ajar. You tried and failed to bite back the giggle that bubbled in your chest, doubling over into his stunned chest while you wheezed a laugh, tequila taking over.

You heard Robin and Eddie yell run and squeal beside you, and when you looked up, they were spinning manically away. Steve’s mouth had closed, and he licked at his molars, nodding slowly. You worried for half a second before the corner of his mouth turned up, and he spun you away and back. You yelped, narrowly avoiding a speaker.

You crashed into his chest and laughed the tune of his own rhythmic chuckle, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to hold yourself steady.

“If I had known this is what it’d take to make you happy, I’d have gone down on you at the beginning of the week,” Steve grinned.

“Steve!” You admonished, glancing around to make sure no one was around to hear what he’d said. You were far from the table now, and definitely out of earshot.

“Tell me about the campsite.” When you met his gaze again, it was that same delicious look that set you on fire from the inside out, unwavering.

You breathed his name again, faltering a little on your feet, but he caught you.

“Come on,” he swayed your hips in his hands. “I gotta study my competition if I want to know how to come out on top.”

You licked your lips, searched his honeyed eyes for any sign of a trap, but he was just as tipsy as you were. Tequila painted the hollows of his cheeks pink. “It was the middle of the day. Campers everywhere. We had to be quiet.”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His grip on your waist tightened, and he pulled you impossibly closer. You could feel every ripple of muscle beneath the luxurious fabric of his top. He looked around the room before his eyes trailed your face, your lips, down the front of your blouse and back. “This is a room full of people, and the music’s so loud you wouldn’t have to be quiet.”

His words sent heat through you.“You’re drunk,” you sucked in a smile and glanced back across the room at Jonathan drooping in his seat, a soft smile on his face as he watched Nancy and Argyle dance. Robin and Eddie twirled and dipped in a far-off corner.

Steve pressed the tip of his nose to the baby hairs at your forehead. “So take advantage of me.”

In that moment, you realized Steve Harrington could be dangerous, commanding, a force to be reckoned with.

—

The hot, sticky glow of three shots of tequila faded to heart palpitations and a burn in your calves. Though, that could be the dancing, the grin that ached at your features, the early morning burrito, or the anticipation that kept you buzzing, bouncing the balls of your bare feet against floorboards while you counted the creaks and footsteps outside your door.

You turned in earlier than the others, feigning exhaustion related to old age, just to prop yourself against the headboard for nearly an hour before the raucous laughter died down beneath you and the sounds of your compatriots readying themselves for bed filtered in under your bedroom door.

Anxiety replaced that warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You listened to Robin’s hiccups on high-alert, pulse thudding to her steady rhythm. You toed to the door, pressed your ear to the wood to listen to the mutterings of goodnight, the faucet running in the bathroom, the steady pad of feet just beyond.

Your hand hovered over the lock on your brass knob, but you snatched it away, pacing to the foot of your bed and back. Once, twice, three times. You caught your reflection in a mirror above the bedside. You’d left your makeup on, curled hair falling around your shoulders in tendrils. The bra you wore beneath an oversized t-shirt pinched at the skin under your arm, but it was the prettiest you’d packed in periwinkle lace to match the panties hiding beneath plaid night shorts.

You were making a mistake. Throat dry, you crossed back to the door, reaching for the knob to lock it and turn yourself in for the night.

The cool brass turned under your touch, and the door swung your way, narrow, allowing a shadowed figure to step into the honeyed glow of your bedside lamp.

“Hi,” Steve smiled, towering over you, breath fresh and hair mussed.

You swallowed. “Hi.”

“Sorry,” he hissed, closing the door behind himself. The click emitted feather-light. “Robin wouldn’t let us go to bed. I was worried you fell asleep.”

You shook your head, managed a weak smile. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said. “Are you cold?” His warm fingertips ghosted the skin beneath the hem of your shorts, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake.

You shivered, shook your head again, allowing your eyelids to go heavy as his other hand came to cradle to your cheek.

“Do you still want to do this?”

He had the power to see right through you, always had. You released a shaky breath, shoulders to your ears in a shrug. You swallowed. “I don’t know.” Honesty spilled out. You hadn’t felt this vulnerable with him since Louisville, not this nervous, not this jittery.

A crease tucked between his brows, and he dropped his hand from your thigh to catch your fingertips in his. “I’m not going to push you.”

“I know,” you squeezed his knuckles, hands dwarfing yours. “You never have.”

He smiled at that, nodded toward the bed. “Want to just hang out?”

You nodded and drew him to soft covers and an old mattress. It sunk under your weight, a burst of air puffing out between you as Steve plopped himself down, hands resting on his chest, hair splayed against patchwork. You were drawn to him, fingers itching to run themselves through his hair, to trace the bridge of his nose, connect-the-dots with his freckles, but you hesitated, tucking your knees to your chest.

He turned his head to look at you, lazy smile crossing beautiful, dark features. “I’m glad I sobered up.”

“Yeah?” You were on the fence.

“Yeah.” He groped around the blankets until he found your hand at your side. He massaged at your wrist, your palm, wide stroke with his thumb that smoothed aching joints and eased your mind. He pulled you ever-closer, before trailing your pointer finger over the bridge of his nose. His lashes fluttered closed, and he hummed as you painted his cheekbones with your fingertips, catching on the stubble of his jaw. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered. He brought your fingertips to his lip, soft and pink and damp. You exhaled his name.

He looked at you then, eyes dark, and placed a kiss to your palm, your wrist, the flesh of your forearm, tugging you gently from your fold until you leaned over him, your hair a curtain separating you both from the glow of the bedside lamp. “Do you want me to leave?”

Your throat was dry, your breath staggered. You shook your head.

Steve’s hands found your waist, smooth dregs of his palms up your ribcage until his thumbs met the underwire of your bra. “Do you want me to stay?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath when his hands worked higher, palming at silk and lace.

“I need to hear you say it, babe,” his voice was hoarse, thick.

You faltered on the pet name, a rule broken, his eyelids heavy, warm hands on your breasts, but you didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to worry or panic. So you washed it all away, pushed guilt to the back of your mind, and threw a leg over him to straddle his slender waist. “I want you, Steve.”

He sat up, pushing you both upright to drag the soft cotton of your top up and over your head. He groaned at the sight of you, and you felt his lips find purchase at the crux of your throat and shoulder, his mouth wet and warm.

You sunk your fingertips into his scalp, indulging in the vibrations of his voice against your skin.

He pushed the lacy straps down your arms, pressing soft kisses into the bits of flesh that were creased and red. He reached around to undo the clasp, and relief flooded your waist from where the elastic bit at your skin. You released him, allowing the scratchy fabric to fall to the ground at the bedside, and Steve lowered himself back to the mattress.

You felt self-conscious, suddenly, as he drank you in, hands ghosting the bits of your flesh that were marred or torn, burn-scarred, pock-marked. You wondered if you’d aged since he last saw you like this, if you had more wrinkles, more pudge, if the weight of you sank different onto his slender hips. You wondered if your boobs sagged, if the flesh of your thighs doubled over your panty line.

Steve’s eyes didn’t give anything away as he raked your frame, hands molding to you like they were meant to, and after too long of a moment, he spoke. “Shit, babe. My memory doesn’t do you justice. You’re fucking perfect.”

A chill caught on your spine, a chuckle of embarrassment building at the compliment, and you folded yourself back to him, squirming under the scrutiny. “You think about me often, Harrington?”

His nose brushed yours in a nod, and he palmed the swell of your thighs beneath your shorts, grinding you down onto him. “Every single day.”

The honesty stuttered your breath, his fanning your lips, and you knew if you didn’t back away now, you’d be lost to him. As he leaned forward to close the gap, you turned your head, cursing yourself when soft lips met your cheekbone.

You avoided his gaze, moving instead to press a kiss to his jaw. Stubble scratched your lips, you chin. You nosed at his throat until he turned his head, and you wrapped your lips to his soft earlobe, delighting in the rumble of his chest against yours.

His hips snapped into you once more, hardened length pressed to the inseam of your thigh.

“Then we better give you something to remember,” you hissed into his ear.

Before you could act on your promise, Steve had you rolled over, pinning you to the bed with his hips. His lips were on you, hands kneading, frantic, eager. He pressed himself upright to strip his t-shirt, collar first, and when it hit the ground, you both heard the pad of footsteps on the floorboards outside.

You froze, suddenly remembering where you were, who occupied the room all around you. Your pulse thundered in your skull, anxiety licking at every inch of you, until you felt Steve Harrington’s perfect teeth graze your nipple and everything coursed through you like livewire.

“Can you be quiet for me?” He hissed to your skin, gathering your wrists to pin above your head, and you gave a fervent nod, swallowing the saliva flooding your mouth.

Steve was trouble, danger, desperate kneading hands and the rhythmic snap of hips. He was brute strength and roped muscles and demanding. He worshiped and praised God and you and mumbled praises into the crux of your throat, your sternum, building you to the highest high before crashing down on you like a wave.

Even after all this time, he knew how to work you, how to mold you, bend you, command you in hushed tones, hand over your mouth to keep your sinful sounds from spilling between his fingers. He delighted in the challenge, wanted you begging but silent, asking if you wanted more, asking if it was good with his chin to your shoulder, your face buried into his to muffle your moans.

He was strong, confident, delicious, salt-to-the-wounds and salt of the Earth, and you fell apart on his hands, his lips, the crash of his hips like waves across a rocky shoreline. Your eyelids sparkled, the ceiling spotted with starlight, and you came down with the weight of his head on your chest.

Steve placed a chaste kiss to your collarbone and looked up at you, a smug grin etched upon his features. He rolled himself to the side, breath ragged. You closed your eyes and listened to the deep in-and-out, trying to match your inhales with his, to slow your heart rate, to stop the pulsing of every muscle now aching in your body.

“How was that?” He whispered into your neck, turning to wrap his arm tightly around your waist.

You huffed a laugh, shrugged. “Top five, at least.”

He gnawed at your throat and squeezed you tighter into him, both of your bodies sticky with sweat.

Sleep tempted you, darkening your vision, weighing you further and further into the warm squish of the mattress and your pillow. Steve’s breathing calmed against your back, his nose tucked under the shell of your ear, and you wondered if you’d fallen asleep so easily in the last four years.

Steve muttered your name, and you hummed, drifting on the edge of bliss. “I do still think about you every day.”

And you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t broken the spell, wish he hadn’t reminded you why you were here, what this was all about. The moonlight filtered in through treetops out the window beyond, and you tucked the blanket higher around your shoulders. Maybe there was no harm in late night truths whispered between lovers.

“The campsite wasn’t the best ever,” you confessed, voice weak. Steve loosened his cradle. You turned to face the ceiling, staring up at vaulted shadows. “Remember that first night in Louisville? I hadn’t seen you in so long, and we were tiptoeing around each other all night, but then the door’s closed in that elevator…”

Steve had propped himself up beside you, cupped your cheek. You felt the soft pad of his thumb against your lower lip. “I really want to kiss you.”

The only rule left to be broken, and your heart ached for it. You took a deep breath and avoided his gaze. You couldn’t do this to yourself again, couldn’t do it to him. It was selfish of both of you. You slipped from his grasp and out of the covers, digging through the dark for your t-shirt and sleep shorts. “The other’s will be awake soon.”

—

The sun cast the tops of your cheeks and nose in warmth, golden light filtering through your eyelids while you bathed in a lounger, allowing your Munson-special pancakes to settle. Your friends seemingly revived from breakfast, splashed a level below you, voices and laughter filtering up the wooden walkway. You battled the melancholy of your final full day with memories from the night before that had a smile aching at your lips.

You sighed and let your mind drift to the weight of Steve’s body against yours, the slam of his hips, the tight grasp of his hand to your wrists above your head.

“I’m heading up to take a shower,” his voice sliced through your daydream, graveled from a late night. “You guys need the bathroom before I go up?”

Nancy shook her head beside you, glancing up at him from above the sunglasses perched on the soft bridge of her nose.

Steve looked to you, and you squirmed under his gaze, shaking your own head with a smile. “Kay,” he smiled back. “Be back in a bit.” And you couldn’t resist in watching the slope of his thighs as he climbed the hill beside you to walk into the house.

“Holy fucking shit,” Nancy slammed her book down on her lounger.

You jumped and sat upright, glancing around you for something to cause her reaction, a giant bee, a severed arm.

“You slept with Steve.”

You halted your search and slowly met Nancy’s gaze. Her lips were pursed, and there was something twisted in the way she looked at you, like she was both pissed and proud she’d cracked the case.

You cowered under her gaze, picking at a sliver in the lounger, and fumbled through an excuse. “I don’t know what - ”

“Don’t bullshit me,” she snapped. “I saw him walking out of your room at 5AM when I got up to puke, and that little exchange you two just had confirmed it.” She waved her finger in the air to exemplify her point.

You felt your face heat. You didn’t appreciate the accusation in her tone. “Okay, so? We’re consenting adults.”

Nancy stuffed her arms under her armpits and turned to face you. “So are the two of you back together?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, the ragged rate of your breath speeding your pulse, or maybe it was the other way around. “No,” you huffed. “We’re just having fun while we’re here.”

Nancy rolled her eyes.

“Hey, no, don’t come at me with that. What about you and Jonathan, huh? Or should I say Robbie?” It was a low blow, and the moment it fell from your lips, you wish you could it all back.

Nancy sucked her lips between her perfect teeth and turned back in her sun lounger, hands flattening against her lower abdomen. “Yeah, well we learned our lesson, didn’t we?”

You blanched at the thought and shook your hair from your eyes. “Jesus, Nancy. I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

She didn’t respond for a long minute, looking out on the water, listening to the chirp of birds along the tree line. Then, she turned her head to face you, sun sparkling off the chrome tint of her sunglasses. “Do you remember that summer after Louisville? That night out on the Cape, just us girls?”

You barely remembered it, a drunken night out in a bar where everything smelled like the country club Steve’s parents frequented. You remembered sequins sticking to your face on a tiled floor. You remembered watching couples spin on a dance floor and wanting to splash your drink in the face of every single one of them. You remember feeling empty, broken, lost.

“I don’t think I realized how in love you two were before then.” She continued, turning back to sunbathe, as if this was the easiest breeziest of topics. “I mean, I knew you were close. You always spoke about him like family. And we all knew you were fucking, even though you tried to hide it.” She raised an eyebrow at you.

You swallowed.

“But that night’s when I realized how heartbroken you were.”

You closed your eyes, released a shaky breath, tried to maintain the happy memories that were quickly slipping from between your fingers, an anchor of your past traumas rocketing you to the bottom.

“I can’t begin to imagine how he felt.”

“Nancy,” you chided, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Come on,” she argued. “He won the fucking jackpot with you. Plus, he’d been burned too many times by other self-hating idiots to let himself get close enough to you. That’s why he never asked you to be his girlfriend, why he never left Hawkins to be with you. He was terrified you’d bail, and then he realizes he can’t live without you and what do you go and do?”

That hit somewhere deep, a dull ache that spread like hot liquid through your chest. “I didn’t…”

“Of course you didn’t know,” she muttered, offering an innocuous wave to Jonathan who swung his arms in the air from the level beneath you, perched atop Argyle’s shoulders in the shallow water, Robin atop Eddie. “You guys haven’t talked in four years. And it wasn’t my job to tell you. My job, as the best friend, is to tell you you don’t need him. That you’re strong and beautiful and independent. My job is to cheer you on through your accomplishments and listen about your escapades with new and exciting men.”

God, you loved her, and you didn’t want to cry because she was right, you were strong and confident and independent, and you didn’t want to cry because Nancy wouldn’t cry, but you couldn’t help the emotion damming at your throat.

“He was supposed to tell you all of this, but clearly you two are incapable of communication.” She sat upright in her chair again and scoffed. “You know what? No. You’re going to talk to him, right now.”

You blinked, heart racing at the idea. “What? No.”

Nancy stood from her seat and grabbed you around the elbow, hoisting you upright. “Yes, right now. I’ll distract everyone else. This can’t go on any longer, or we’re all going to implode. You’re going into that house, and you’re going to hear his side of it. Because we all know you won’t be able to make a decision until you do.”

—

The floorboards creaked under your weight, a groan at each step to remind you of where you were going. Your bare feet, sun soaked, stuck to the finish. A breeze caught gossamer window dressing, but did nothing for the slick of sweat beading your upper lip, the creases of your palm, your lower back. The steam from Steve’s shower framed the bathroom mirror and permeated the upper floor with his scent, squeaky clean and expensive.

Your hands trembled against the surface of his bedroom door. You heard the shuffle of fabric on the other side, and a low, soft hum. You’d almost forgotten that about him, the way he sang when he thought no one was around. If he had an ear worm, or just felt happy about something.

You took a deep breath, pressed your forehead to the door, and knocked.

“Yeah, come in,” he called, and then “Hello?” after your lengthy hesitation.

You turned the brass knob and entered, clicking the door behind yourself. Steve stood across the room, nearest the window, tugging at his watch straps again. His white t-shirt was speckled grey across his shoulders where his hair had dripped into a freckled pattern. When he saw you, his honeyed eyes lit with recognition, something hungry in them.

“Hi,” you managed, and there must have been sheer terror in your eyes because Steve’s face flashed with alarm, and he made a slow cross your way.

“What’s wrong?” His tone reminded you of too many late night phone calls, his voice keeping the nightmares at bay.

You swallowed, allowed him to lead you to the edge of the bed, felt his fingers slot into yours, tried to ignore how soothed you felt already. “We need to talk about Louisville.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before he turned his attention to your hand in his, tracing your knuckles, brushing a thumb over your nails. “What about it?”

“I want to know what happened,” you sighed, allowing yourself to flop backwards onto a hand knit throw, the mattress swishing beneath you. “I want to know where it all went wrong, why I lost you. I guess I just need some insight, Steve. Because I’ve been wracking my brain for four years trying to figure it out.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he sighed, and you saw his teeth chew on his bottom lip. Then he brought his nail beds to his mouth, a bad habit from his youth.

You stopped his wrist, pulling his hand back into yours. “You were my best friend, and then you just quit calling.” You don’t think you’d let the hurt sink in until that moment, heard it catch in your vocal chords. You stared at the ceiling, a blur of white plaster and amber beams.

“I thought you didn’t want me to,” his voice was just as small as yours.

You shrugged, didn’t let the wobble in your jaw deter you. “We had fights before, bigger than this one. I figured we’d get over it.”

“You told me you didn’t want to marry me.”

You propped yourself on your elbows to face him. “Steve, come on. You weren’t serious. You didn’t want to marry me, not really. You were just at that stage in your life where you thought that’s what was supposed to happen.”

He rolled his eyes, shook his head, pulling his hand from yours to run through his damp hair. Flecks of water marked your skin. “Will you quit saying that? Quit invalidating my feelings like that. I didn’t just want to settle down out of convenience. That’s always bugged the shit out of me.” He snapped.

You barked a laugh, wry. “Okay, you had feelings for me. I get that. You know I love you too, but you can’t just spring a marriage proposal on a girl because she’s naked in your hotel bed. You didn’t even have a ring.”

Steve stared back at you for a long moment, and something in his eyes excited you. You hadn’t sparred in ages, hadn’t talked your genuine feelings out with your best friend in four years.

“Fuck it,” he said and stood from his seat beside you to cross to his opened suitcase, everything neatly folded and tucked inside. “If I show you this, you have to promise me you won’t say a word until I’m done talking. Alright?” He held something behind his back and pointed a finger your direction. “Not a God damn word.”

You rolled your eyes but held three fingers his direction and pretended to zip your lips. Then you caught a little black box he tossed at you. Your heart began to thunder in your chest, fingers trembling around velvet. You blinked at it a few times before looking back at him.

Steve was stone faced, if not a little pale, and his arms were crossed over his chest like he was waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he took a step forward, and then back, shifting weight on the balls of his feet. Then, he gestured to the box in your hand, a curse spilling from his lips. “I bought it the second day,” he said, “in Louisville.”

You couldn’t move, breath short, hands a vice grip on the box in your lap, terrified to look at it.

“We had that first night, the one you mentioned with dinner at that cantina, and we took that long walk past all those big houses, and I felt like I was holding my breath all day. And I can hold my breath for a long time, I’m a damn good swimmer. But sometimes with you, it feels like I’m drowning.”

You could remember every second of that night, had thought about it a thousand times, compared every date to it, hell every happy moment.

“And I think I just realized I couldn’t tread water with you anymore. Sink or swim, Harrington,” he groaned, scrubbing his hand down a freshly shaven face. “So the next day, while you were at your conference, I went to a jewelry store and bought that.”

Once again, your attention was drawn to the tiny box in your hands, and although your curiosity was piqued, you were still too terrified to open it.

“I chickened out pretty much the entire weekend. I think I just didn’t want to ruin the fun, and then on that last morning, I panicked. I freaked the fuck out because we were going home, and I didn’t want to be away from you anymore. So I said what I said, and we fought, and I kicked myself the whole way home.”

You were glad you’d promised not to speak, glad you’d zipped your lips, because you didn’t think you had words anyway. Too many thoughts and emotions and memories zooming through your headspace like speedboats, leaving casualties in their wake.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go to Argyle’s wedding,” his voice was soft, and his arms found their spot across his chest once more. “I know I promised you I’d go, but I think dancing with you at someone else’s wedding felt like a twisted joke.”

You swallowed, nodded.

“Please don’t think I brought it here because I thought I could win you back, or whatever,” he hurried as an afterthought. “I honestly wasn’t sure what would happen this week. I was shitting myself that I’d somehow make everything worse, which maybe I have.”

You shook your head.

“I just keep it in my suitcase,” he gestured to the box again. “I don’t care what you do with it now. Hock it, pawn it, chuck it into the lake. You know, do what you want with it because it’s yours. It always has been.”

You watched as he crossed to you, taking a slow and awkward seat beside you, just beyond your reach.

“That it,” he sighed, shoulders slumped. “That’s my piece, I guess. You can talk now. Or not, if you don’t want. No pressure. At all, about any of this,” he glanced around the room. “If you want to go back to the way things were, I totally understand. I meant it when I said I just wanted a truce for this week. We agreed you reserve the right to live your own life.”

“No,” you croaked. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “I don’t want that. I mean, I want you in my life.”

The corners of his lips turned up at that, and he let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Me too.”

“This is all just…” You clasped the box until your knuckles whitened, just to stop the trembling. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Steve stood from next to you. “I’ll give you a few minutes, or you know, whatever you need. I uh… I actually think I need some air.” He thumbed to the door.

You stood on shaky legs, nodding. “Yeah, me too. Water, I think, might be good.”

“Totally,” he held the door open for you, and the two of you walked side-by-side to the top of the stairs. The floor groaned beneath your feet.

“Come find me later?” His voice was soft, warm, forehead creased with concern.

You smiled, nodded, and watched as his lanky frame retreat down the staircase and out the front door.

—

A batch of cookies baked in the oven, caramelized brown sugar and butter permeated the air. Three other cookie sheets sat prepped at the ready on the countertop nearby. You’d washed and dried your mixing bowls and measuring cups and hung the apron on its hook inside the pantry door. Your glass of lemonade lay untouched, glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

The small black box rolled in your pruned fingertips, and you glanced around the kitchen for any signs of onlookers before cracking open the seal, hinge groaning, for a peak at what rested within the pink satin lining.

You nearly dropped it, throwing your hand to your lips to contain the gasp that rattled when you saw the perfect diamond in its fitting on the perfect, most delicate little band. It was everything you would have wanted, subtle and sleek and sweet. You wondered if you had mentioned the details, mumbled into Steve’s chest after a night out, senses liquored and secrets spilled.

Or maybe he just knew you, better than anyone else could.

You glanced around the empty house once more before risking to pull it out of its casing and slide it over the summer-swollen knuckles of the ring finger on your left hand. It was the perfect fit, sparkling in honeyed sunlight, casting rainbows against the cabinets and countertops.

“Smells amazing in here, dudette,” Argyle entered the small kitchen.

“Thanks,” you choked a laugh, shoving your hands behind your back to greet him. “How’s dinner coming?”

“Good, good,” he bobbed his head, long hair swishing against a broad chest. He sidled up to the counter opposite you. “Came here to check on you though. It’s our last day. It’s not the same without you.”

“I know,” you smiled, waving at the cookies with your right hand. “Let me finish these up, and I’ll be right out.”

“Sure,” he saw right through you, a grin forming beneath his mustache, a glint in his eye. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I’m here for you.”

The honesty there cut deep. You nodded, wondered how much he knew, felt guilty for not telling him more, or for taking too much vacation time with your petty drama.

“Can I tell you a story about me and Eden?” His eyes lit up when he spoke of her, a big grin formed across soft features.

You nodded again, toyed with the ring around your finger behind your back. “Please.”

He scratched an itch at his mustache, and you saw him twist his own ring around his finger, gold, outdated, oversized. “Remember that day in the military tent? When we were all waiting for orders, and Steve pulled you in so we could explain what the Hell was going on?”

You swallowed. You’d never forget that day, though you were grateful you thought about it less and less as time went on.

“Sorry to bring it up,” Argyle nodded, held a hand up in apology. “I only do because I remember it more vividly than any of those days. I mean, I was high for a lot of everything before, and everything after felt like one big firefight. But I remember that day specifically because you lost your mom and Steve brought you into that tent, and he just held you.”

The emotion that had been rising all day started to spill, a causeway that rolled warm down your cheeks, and you were frantic to stop the flow, trying to push back those awful memories, the flashes of orange and camo, Steve’s strong arms wrapped around your collapsing body, knees gave way. You nodded to encourage Argyle to keep going, to reassure you were okay.

He reached a hand out anyway, pulled you into the cushion of his shoulder, rubbed at your arm. “We were all so young and so dumb, and I just wanted to go home.”

You sniffled and hugged around his middle because you understood.

“Not home to Lenora, but home to this girl I met a week earlier with brown hair and brown eyes because the moment I saw her, I knew I’d do anything for her. I wanted her to hold me the way Steve held you.”

Home, this place you’d always had in Steve Harrington, a place you always would.

“That’s the day I realized she was my one-and-only.” He always waxed so poetic about his wife, and until this moment you’d always rolled your eyes with fondness for the man. Until this moment, you never really understood. “Are you picking up what I’m laying down?”

You nodded, laughed wetly. “I think so.”

The wrap of knuckles against the doorframe grabbed your attention, and you looked up to find Eddie. His hair was frizzy from air dry, and he looked impossibly lanky in a black tank top and red shorts, and the handsome smile from his face fell when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Everything okay in here?”

Your heart sank.

“All good, my dude, just talking to her about my beautiful wife,” Argyle gave you one more tight squeeze before releasing you to stand at his full height. He gave you a wink before pushing past Eddie to head back outside to be with the rest of your friends.

The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes, the breeze trailing in to float his air from his eyes. You weren’t sure how to start, what you could say to make it right, but you didn’t have to.

Eddie let out a whistle, long and low, and crossed the room to meet you. “I always knew Harrington had good taste.” Before you realized you were fidgeting with your ring, he took your hand into his, holding it up to catch the light like you had done earlier.

You swallowed, watching the subtle hurt etched between his brows. Eddie Munson, heart on his sleeve. You whispered his name.

He shrugged, dimples poking through his goatee, and shook his hair from his eyes. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it. I just want you both happy.” He ducked his head then, inches from yours. “Are you happy?”

You thought to all of the friends that had held you throughout this week, throughout the past twelve years, throughout your life, and you nodded, fighting back the new tears that threatened to spill.

Eddie caught them with the calloused pad of his thumb, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest. “I’m never going to stop loving you.”

“I know,” you laughed, closing your eyes as he pressed soft lips to your forehead.

“You know? Wow. A bit full of yourself, sweetheart,” he teased, and you swatted at him. He dodged your aim and grabbed you by the waist to pull you into a bone-crushing hug, jaw pressed to your temple.

“I love you too,” you whispered into his neck, cigarette and spice and sunscreen.

“Have you told him yet?”

You froze, shook your head.

The egg timer went off, shrill and loud, and in that exact moment, under the honeyed glow of the late afternoon summer sun, with the room smelling of your mom’s chocolate chip cookies, you felt like she was sending you a sign.

Your hands shook, and you mopped at the tears in your eyes and pointed at the oven. “Can you take those out?” You asked Eddie, breathless, heart thundering in your chest.

His lips split into that Cheshire grin, and he waved you off. “Go get him, sweetheart.”

The rubber of your soles squeaked against every wooden step on your way down. The patio was empty, sounds of splashes and crackled firewood and laughter could be heard from the shore, and when you rounded the little tin roof beach hut, you saw your friends, your family, roasting kababs and drinking beer and smiling. Nancy and Robin shared a log to sit on, while the boys stood around the grill with hands in their pockets, breeze ruffling their shirts. The smell of ash and smoke and meats rose to your nostrils, something that just felt like another sign.

Steve was the closest to you, his back turned, broad shoulders in navy blue, running his hand through his hair. You hit sand and called his name, and he turned to face you with a squinted gaze, hand up to see your approaching figure.

You closed the gap in four strides, dragging him down by the collar to press your lips to his, the final rule broken.

A sound of surprise turned low when the realization hit, and you felt his hands snake around your waist and hips, lifting you on the balls of your feet to kiss him deeper. Your hands found his hair, one of his cupped your cheek, and all at once you felt at home. Once lost at sea, now you’d found your mooring.

You breathed a laugh that mirrored his, the tip of his nose pressed to your cheek, and it wasn’t until the ringing in your ears stopped that you noticed the ruckus of friends around you.

“Is that a diamond ring!?” Robin screeched somewhere behind Steve.

You sucked back a smile and pulled your hand from Steve’s hair to admire the ring on your finger. Steve looked back at you glassy eyed, mouth open to speak without words. You shrugged, smiled, allowed the diamond to sparkle in the sunlight.

“Yeah, I guess it - ” You were cut-off when Steve planted another kiss on you, lifting you into his arms.

—

The windows had been closed for the night, pale yellow curtains no longer flowing in the breeze. Your hair smelled of campfire, and your eyelids grew heavy from an eventful day. You were full of kabobs and Mom’s chocolate chip cookies, and you squished onto the tiny couch between Steve and Robin, who were flicking each other inches above your head.

“You’re both children,” you snorted, swatting their hands away as they began to flick you instead.

“Wheeler, are you crying?” Eddie’s voice turned all of your attention quickly to Nancy, who sat between Jonathan’s legs, mopping at the tops of her freckled cheeks.

“No, fuck off, Munson,” she scoffed.

You scrambled to sit upright, leaning across the coffee table to take her hand in your own. Jonathan gripped you both. “What’s up?” You bit back a smile, seeing Nancy’s eyes roll in annoyance at being the center of attention for something she’d rather keep private.

“I just never thought we’d be here.” She sighed.

“Yeah, Kurtis was really generous leaving his house with a bunch of assholes like us,” Robin agreed.

“Shut up,” Nancy groaned when you all laughed. “I just meant… after all this time, I’m really glad I still have you guys.”

“Can’t get rid of us that easy, Nance,” Steve grinned, swinging an arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him with a sigh.

“It’s true, dude. We’re like parasites,” Argyle piped in, mouth full of cookie.

You tried not to let her words seep in, tried desperately to tread water, to fight back the current of emotions that prickled when you realized you didn’t know the next time you’d all be together like this. Robin was off to France. Nancy and Jonathan had their own adventures, baby in tow. Argyle lived across the country.

You met Eddie’s gaze, warm browns and Cheshire smile. “Besides, we’ll all be together again soon. I heard there’s going to be a wedding in Hawkins.”

You cocked a brow, ready to retort, but Steve beat you to the punch.

“Hard to plan a wedding in a place we don’t live.”

---

A/N: This fic was definitely a labor of love for me. I actually had this planned before I wrote My Whole Life, Too. And I have so many other details of their lives and pasts that I'd love to dive back into. Thank you so so so much for reading xo xo

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#better off fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson angst #steve harrington angst #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #robin buckley #jancy #argyle #eden bingham

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eroticasposts · 6 months

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BEFORE AND AFTER— when I met him,

Before And After:

Corroded Coffin After Tour

After several attempts to get Band Corroded Coffin to sit down with us, we've finally achieved a breakthrough and gotten lead singer Eddie Munson to sit down and answer some questions we've all been dying to know the answers to!

Here we are, with vocalist Eddie Munson coming down with us to answer some questions for Before and After, in which we go back in time to dig up what happened before and what's after the tour.

"So, Eddie, how did it all begin?" Bring us all the way back to the beginning: "How did you know this was what you wanted to do?"

"Well, to be quite honest with you, I've always known that I wanted to be a rockstar.”

“What made you want to be part of the music industry?”

"Personally, I have always had love for music, ever since I could remember.”

And, like any other artist, Eddie understood that there was more to add to the answer. He then continued to say,

"We wanted to show the world, well, Hawkins, to be exact, that we were capable of being more than just the freaks and the failures.” He referred to his bandmates.

“Freaks and failures?

"We used to get called freaks or failures, anything along those lines." He didn't appear to be impacted by his past. Eddie continued, “devil worshipers.”

The outcast, freaks, and Devil Worshipers, as he and his bandmates were dubbed at school, decided to join together.

"How did you decide to form a band?" What prompted you to make such a decision?

“It was in Middle school; that’s when I met all my freak friends,” he joked. “Um, our school was having a talent show, and my uncle had just taken me to buy my first guitar.”

Eddie became more at ease and open with his replies as the interview progressed. "I gathered them all, and... I told them, let's start a fucking band.” He laughed at the memories he was having while telling the story.“It all started in a garage, particularly Gareth's garage.” He answered Jays next questioning.“In addition to the school talent show, where did it all start, and where did you guys practice?”

“Who made the decision on who would play which instrument?

“Everyone just kind of chose what they wanted to play. Gareth, luckily, already knew how to play the drums.”

The questioning of Eddie Munson was nearing its end after nearly two hours.

“Tell us, Eddie, what do you have planned for after the tour?” He took his time responding, as if he wasn't sure what he was going to do next.

"I'm not sure, Jay," he admits. “We'll just have to wait and see what happens after the tour."

#stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddiemunson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #robin buckley #jim hopper #whenimethim #joseph quinn eddie munson #joseph quinn

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eiightysixbaby · 4 months

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you can run but only so far

jonathan byers x reader

1.6k

18+ only — brief descriptions of piv sex, angst

just something short based on tis the damn season by tswift. jonathan is so evermore coded to me i couldn’t get it out of my head. barely proofread sorry in advance lol

The week between Christmas and New Year’s is always weird. So much preparation and anticipation for the first holiday, only for it to be ripped away like wrapping paper in the blink of an eye. There’s still lingering remnants of the presents and the baked goods and the decorations, but they leave you feeling sour.

Being back in your hometown means sleeping in a bed that no longer feels like your own, staying in a house that feels more like a hotel than your childhood home. You have the streets mapped out in your head, yet you don’t frequent them anymore. You feel like a stranger in a place you once fully belonged, like you’re just something that stands out rather than fits in. Thankfully, there were still a few people left who could make this place feel like home.

Your bare body is pressed into the seat in the back of Jonathan’s car where it’s parked in the empty lot of the high school; the only place you could get some privacy. Your eyes glance out the window over his shoulder to see precipitation that isn’t quite rain but isn’t quite snow, either. The slushy, sloppy mixture hurtles to the ground, soaking the greyed landscape. The man’s eager mouth swallows your sighs, fingers sinking in to the meat of your hips.

“Feel so good, babe,” he praises, his nose smushed into your cheek. The pet name makes your heart flutter, though it’s fleeting.

Something in you aches. You’re sure he feels it, too.

Jonathan had been the hardest person to leave behind when you left your hometown. You’d ended what could’ve been the greatest relationship of your life, to chase your own dreams in a place that wasn’t Hawkins. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cozy up to him while you were home, but he made it impossible to stay away.

The holidays made you want to be in love, made you crave a companion, and maybe all the mistletoe and holly blurred the edges of your logic and his.

Because you’d been seeing each other for the last few days, kissing and holding hands like all was normal. Like you weren’t going to leave again, like he wasn’t going to watch you go. As your time in this town grew closer to an end for the season, a bittersweet concoction of emotions flooded you.

“Hey…” he murmurs softly, catching your chin with his index finger. “You okay?” His movements have paused, his chest and yours rising and falling in gentle unison.

You nod, brushing away the cloudy thoughts. “Yeah. I’m great,” you say, pressing a kiss to the very corner of his mouth.

He smiles in response, and your heart skips a beat. If only it could be like this forever.

The next evening, as the sun sinks low on the horizon and a cold, desolate darkness engulfs the town, your hand is clutched tightly in Jonathan’s as he pulls you into Benny’s diner. The smell of fried food and chocolate malts kisses the tip of your nose as you both sink into a quiet booth in the very corner of the space.

He drums his fingers on the greasy tabletop, probably keeping tune with the song playing over the stereo. You’d know for sure if you could pay enough attention to listen to it. Your focus is on the way the crappy lighting floods his features, the ways in which his face has matured since you’d seen him last. It makes you sad to think that you would’ve been watching him change every day had you never left.

But you had to leave. And you’ll have to leave, again, tomorrow.

He orders a coffee, because of course he does. Practically running on it like he always has. His perpetually sleepy eyes crease as he smiles across the table at you, knowing you’re internally teasing him for getting caffeine so late in the day. It’s funny, how you don’t forget his little quirks. Tiny facts about him that haven’t been relevant to you in some time, but that still linger tucked away in the filing cabinet of your brain. You want to write all of it down, so they never slip away from you.

You wonder if he remembers the same sorts of little things about you. When your burgers are served, and he requests honey mustard on the side for your fries, it’s clear that he does. He hates honey mustard, but you don’t.

You shrug your big, soft, plaid coat off, the heat in the diner working overtime tonight to keep you warm. Taking a bite into the burger, it tastes like high school and adolescence and late nights and stupid choices. The flavor is nostalgic, bringing back a slew of memories. You wipe away a stray blob of ketchup that lingers beneath your lip with your thumb, painting your white napkin red with it.

“I wish you could stay,” Jonathan blurts, looking remorseful almost as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“Jonathan…” you sigh, setting your food back on your plate.

“We’ve had such a good time this week, doesn’t it feel right like this? Just hear me out,” he urges.

“Jon, please,” you try again, fiercely trying to ward off any tears that spring into your eyes. “You know I have to go.”

You have your reasons for leaving. He has his reasons for staying. This just can’t work.

He goes silent, sipping from the steaming mug in his hands. There’s a chip in the table that becomes increasingly interesting to you, your eyes downcast at it as your finger slides over the jagged edge.

“I know,” he says finally. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, but it doesn’t feel okay. You aren’t mad at him for what he said, but it just leaves a lump in your throat.

The rest of your meal is eaten mostly in silence, darkness having completely taken over outside. It snows just a little bit, tiny flakes that you’d miss if it weren’t for the halo around the street light letting them show.

“You wanna come back to my place? My mom and Will are gone,” he offers, leaving extra cash on the table for a tip and standing.

You nod, half here, half somewhere else. The weight of your departure tomorrow makes your shoulders sag, but you put on a brave face so as not to ruin the last of the time you have with him. He knows your smile is fake, of course he does. Reading you like an open book, devouring every single word. Your novel is one he reads over and over again, hoping each time that the ending will be different.

He knows it won’t be. Not this time. But he can allow himself to keep pretending, for tonight at least.

He keeps one hand locked in yours as he drives the near empty streets back to his home, his thumb rubbing over your fingers. His tires slosh through the muddy mess that’s formed in potholes, splattering the lingering remnants of snow from the Christmas storm.

The world looks so lifeless, so dull. The pretty piles of white fluff half-melted, the trees bare. It makes you depressed. Jonathan keeps a spark of happiness ignited inside of you, but even that will soon be blown out.

The Byers home is decorated with big, colorful lights. A tree with lots of tinsel sits in the corner of the living room. There’s Christmas themed crafts that must have been made by the boys as children, Joyce was ever the sentimental mother. It’s cozy, and it’s warm, and it feels safe. Jonathan is kissing you the second you’ve hung your coat up, his hands cradling the back of your head, fingers entwined in your hair. He smells like coffee and the musky scent of his cologne, the same one he’s worn for years.

You’re walking him backwards, maneuvering yourselves carefully into his bedroom before pushing him down onto his bed. He’s undoing his belt with haste, your turtleneck sweater is being pulled over your head. Garments are tossed to the floor until both of you are bare, and as you go to straddle him he’s meeting you halfway, partially sitting up to kiss you. His hands roam your body as you slip him inside of you, wasting no time.

Despite your hurry to start, the sex isn’t rushed at all. His hands guide your movements, letting you slowly move up and down on his cock. Even though you’re alone, his moans still come out hushed, as do yours. It’s quiet, still, saccharine.

You let him finish inside of you, after you came first of course, his chest rising and falling with his staggered breaths. It’s an act so intimate, reserved for someone special.

He is special.

He pulls you onto his chest once you’re finished, rubbing your back with soothing hands. Covering your body with a blanket, he kisses your head. You try to fight sleep for as long as you can, because once you go to sleep the sooner you’ll wake up. With tomorrow morning’s light comes your cue to leave.

It comes regardless, your eyes blinking into the pale light of his room. His body is comforting beside you, the blanket rising and falling with his quiet breathing. You realize that his bed feels warmer than any you’d slept in before, certainly warmer than yours where you sleep alone. It messes with your head, lulling you into a false sense of stability. You can’t linger, can’t stay.

Quietly, so as not to disturb him, you slip on your clothes from the night before. You sit back down on the mattress, pressing a kiss to his head. Your hand gently brushes hair from his eyes, resting on his cheek for a moment before you finally pull it away.

Your own heart shatters for him, all over again as you don your coat once more and step out into the cold weather. It’s not a far walk for you, you’d rather be alone than have him drive you. Than have to say goodbye.

He knew this was coming all along, as did you. You could never stay. And so once again, you leave. The smell of your perfume lingers on his pillow, and it’s all he has left of you when he wakes.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers fanfic #jonathan byers fanfiction #jonathan byers blurb #jonathan byers angst

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youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms · 2 years

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You're Being Mean

Words: 987

Warnings: angst, probably poor writing but whatever

STRANGER THINGS Masterlist Main Masterlist

Based off of the line from Little Women "No. No Laurie. You're being mean. Stop it. Stop. I have been second to Jo my whole life. In everything. And I will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her. I wont-I won't do it. I wont--not when I've spent my entire life loving you."

This is literally one of my favorite lines from Little Women. Especially because of how Amy says that Laurie is being mean. She doesn't say he isn't being fair or anything like that. She says he's being mean. Which, to me, holds more power than if she said something else

I kinda left it open for y'all to decide what happens next. But if you would want, I could write a part two for this.

Anywho, enjoy

Y/N Wheeler had known Jonathan Byers and his family her whole life. Her and Jonathan had met at the park when they were about 3. They had been best friends ever since. Wherever one was, there other was there too. They were practically tied at the hip. Everyone found it ironic as their younger brothers were the same. When Lonnie and Joyce were fighting, Jonathan and Will would show up at hers. When Will went missing, she helped in any way she could. Including helping him shop for a casket.

But that was also when her twin sister, Nancy, started to be his friend. All because, what? He had been the last person to see her friend Barb? She found it unfair. Unfair that he had been telling his mom that Will was dead and then Nancy says something about a possibility that he and Barb could be alive and he believes her. She found it all completely and totally unfair to Joyce.

But of course, the worst thing was that she knew he had had feelings for Nancy since they were in Middle School. And now he had his chance, a sliver of a chance, but he still was taking it.

And it hurt Y/N. Not only because she had feelings for her friend, herself. But because per usual, she was second best to Nancy. It always had been that way. In everything, Nancy was better than her at. The only thing that Y/N was better at her sister was, was Softball.

So then, after Will was found, Y/N felt slightly happy that Nancy went back to Steve. So now her sister couldn't make her second with the one person that had been there for her for years. Just as she had been there for him.

But of course, a year past and Steve and Nancy broke up. Jonathan comforted and helped her while Y/N was comforting and helping Steve and the children.

And then that was done. Now it was nearly 4 years later. They all had graduated High School. Nancy being the fucking Valedictorian and Y/N the Salutatorian. Now it was 4 years later. She no longer lived in Hawkins. She hadn't even been back since she left. It was been nearly 2 years since she had last seen Jonathan Byers and now here he was.

Jonathan Byers was standing in the photography store he was interning at for college credits.

Jonathan Byers was in New York City and asking her out.

Y/N shook her head at Jonathan as he spoke, "Please, Y/N."

"No."

"Y/N/N--"

"No. Jonathan. Stop it." She brushed hair out of her face, "Stop it. You-you're being mean. Just...just stop."

He looked at her helplessly, "How am I being mean?"

She shakily breathed, "I have been second to Nancy my whole life. In everything." She jabbed at his chest, "And I will not let myself be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her." She shook her head and walked past him, "I wont-I won't do it." She stuttered out, "I wont--not when I've spent my entire life loving you."

His voice was soft, "Y/N--"

"No, Jonathan. Please. Please just stop. Please just go back to Hawkins. I'm sorry that Nancy rejected you after we graduated. But please, that was 2 years ago. Please don't make me reopen that wound."

He softly took her hand, "But I was wrong. Chasing after her when you were right there in front of me."

She looked down, trying not to cry. Trying to not show any weakness. "Jonathan, just go home. Please. I'm practically begging you to do so."

"Do you really want me to?"

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. Everything was telling her to bed him to stay. But she couldn't. "I love you, but...but yes. I do want you to leave. I want you to move on from me. From Nancy." She let out a shaky breath, "It's better if you do."

He nodded silently and walked to the door. His hand hovered over the nob for a moment before he turned back and walked over to her. And before she could even ask him anything. He kissed her. He smashed his own lips onto hers. And no matter how badly she knew she needed to pull away, she didn't. She allowed herself to melt into his kiss.

When he pulled away, he moved his hand up to wife away the tears that had fallen from her eyes. She looked at him helplessly. "Why did you do that, Jonathan?"

His hand had stayed resting on her cheek, "Because I love you. Truly do. I wasn't lying when I said I realized I should had never even tried to Nancy while you were there." He looked at her softly, "All that I'm asking for is one date. Anymore will be up to you. But please, just one date."

"I-I need time to think, Jonathan. Give me some time. How-how long are you in New York for?"

"Till next Wednesday. Here," He handed her a small piece of paper, "I'm staying there. And-and," He pointed to a number, "That's the room number."

She nodded and placed the small paper in her back pocket, "Okay. I'll give you my answer later."

He nodded and walked back to the door, "Even if you don't get back to me...I'm just happy that you're considering it."

She stayed silent as she watched him walking out. She stayed where she was until her boss yelled at her to get a move on. But for the rest of her shift, all she could think about was Jonathan and on if she was going to say yes or not.

And by the end of her day, she knew what her answer was. But she was just scared to tell him.

#jonathan #byers #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers x wheeler!reader #jonathan byers angst #stranger #things #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x wheeler!reader #stranger things angst #x reader #imagine #x wheeler!reader #angst

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

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Dating Jonathan Byers Headcanons

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x GN! / AFAB! Reader

Warnings: sfw and nsfw, minors DNI

A/N: here we are, the last, but certainly not least, in my series of dating headcanons!! I hope you guys like it <3

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

SFW

Jonathan screams friends to lovers to me

I feel like you guys grow up living close to each other but you never really spoke until middle school and then you just clicked and were instant best friends

but in high school you both get a bit awkward around each other for some reason

well that reason is ofc bc you’ve both, unbeknownst to the other, started to develop feelings for each other

you’re still friends but there’s just this weird underlying tension, your stares lingering on each other’s faces longer than needed, palpable silences, looking at each other’s lips, etc.

it’s one of those funny things where literally everyone else can see it but you two

Argyle is always on Jonathan about just telling you, meanwhile Nancy and Robin are on your case about the same thing

so it finally happens when a big group of you are hanging out, like you, Jonathan, Robin, Nancy, Argyle, Steve and Eddie, but they’ve secretly planned to bail out and leave you and Jonathan locked alone together

the two of you sit in awkward silence for a while before Jonathan eventually launches into a fast ramble about how he’s really sorry for how awkward everything is and he’s sorry your friendship has gone a bit weird and he just rambles on and on about how much he actually likes you but he just keeps apologising at the same time

so eventually you just have to shut him up by kissing him

now the two of you have admitted your feelings for each other things are still a little bit awkward to begin with and it takes a while for the two of you to settle properly into your relationship

your relationship starts off very slow, and he’s reluctant to take things too far too quickly bc he cares about you so much

but once you guys are in deep he’s so devoted and loving, like Jonathan's the type to frequently remind you how he feels about you and is always saying ‘I love you’

you’d be his muse and his model for his photography

going on lil road trips together to find cool and interesting places for him to photograph

and again you get to model at all these cool and unique places that the two of you find

Jonathan is the absolute best gift-giver when it comes to your birthdays or anniversaries, he always gives you a photo-album but he makes them all different, like themed albums basically

so for your birthday one year you get an album that’s dedicated to you and Jonathan and the places you’ve travelled together, and the whole album is like a map of your journeys together

but your anniversary one is pictures he’s taken as your relationship has progressed, so it starts with pictures of the two of you hanging out as friends, the rest of the group there in the pictures too, then there’s the first picture he ever took of you alone, the first picture he took of you once you became a couple, the first of one of just the two of you together, your first date, your second date, etc., and this album just reads like a map of your relationship together and it’s just the cutest thing

even the pictures that he doesn’t give to you as a gift he still keeps them neatly organised in albums of his own

like Eddie has a collection of Polaroids of his lover but they’re all messily strewn about in a box under his bed (see my dating Eddie headcanons here)

but Jonathan keeps all of his pictures organised, so when he has the urge to look up a certain picture of you or a certain moment, he knows exactly where to find it

Joyce absolutely adores you and she basically becomes like another mother / bestie to you, like you’ll hang out just with Joyce even if Jonathan’s not even there

Jonathan and the Byers in general become like a safe-haven to you for when things are shitty at home and you need to get away

being friends with Will, basically like another sibling to him, and almost becoming like a safe space for him to turn to

he’ll always give you his coat even if it’s freezing outside, your comfort is always this boy’s no.1 priority

Jonathan is a very loving and sweet boyfriend, like he’s always doting on you, and sometimes it can get a bit intense / annoying but you know it’s just of how much he loves you

pet-names: (for you) my love, my angel, sweetheart, darling, dove

pet-names: (for him) J, babe, babyboy, my love

NSFW

Jonathan is a mostly a service sub and I won’t be told otherwise

he lives to pleasure you, looking up at you with those puppy-dog eyes

and since he loves to be a giver you just know he’s so good at it, like this boy knows exactly how to make you cum with his fingers and his tongue, he’s just very in tune with your body

has a praise kink and needs reassurance, likes to be told he’s doing a good job / is making you feel good

he’s constantly checking in with you during sex to make sure you’re still doing okay and are comfortable etc.

you honestly have to coax his dom side out of him when you want it bc it’s a rare occasion

usually his dom side comes out when you’ve had some kind of argument and he just kinda snaps all of a sudden and then uses you to fuck out his frustrations

sometimes you can coax him into dom mode without actually having to piss him off, but in this case then he’s a very soft dom

you have to really urge him to be a bit more rough with you if that’s what you want, like he’s terrified of hurting of you and it takes a lot of persuasion for him to get the idea that it’s okay bc you like it

like he’ll almost have a melt down the first time he sees a bruise on your body from where he’s touched you

but you just think it’s so hot that you jump him and fuck him right there and then to prove it

Jonathan’s favourite positions are any where he gets to see your face bc he likes gauging your reaction to make sure you’re feeling good

also he likes to kiss you a lot whilst you fuck as well

he’s not massively into using toys but will if you want to bc this boy will literally do anything for you

he loves it when you tie him up and tease the hell out of him, like the whines that leave this boy’s mouth? you didn’t think he was capable of making such sounds

and that’s only bc I think Jonathan is usually very quiet during sex, until you take over and then yeah he’s a whining mess

he likes to take pictures of you of course, but they’re always really tasteful and beautiful, they’re not dirty and filthy the way Eddie takes pictures of his lover

Jonathan provides the most amazing aftercare! he’ll pretty much wait on you hand and foot and won’t rest until he’s completely satisfied that you’ve been properly taken care of

he’ll run you a bath, put some bath salts in, even give you a lil massage if the session was quite intense, fetch you food, maybe some tea, whatever you wanted really

he is the best snuggler, he will spoon you and rest his head on your back, just between your shoulder blades, placing soft kisses to your skin until the two of you fall asleep

Author’s Note / Disclaimer: please remember that these are headcanons, i.e. this is how I personally view the character. you may disagree and that is completely fine, I just ask that you don’t leave any disrespectful or rude comments about it. thank you in advance.

Masterlist

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers headcanons #jonathan byers smut #jonathan byers fluff #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers hc #jonathan byers headcanon #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers angst #stranger things headcanons #stranger nightmare

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ashwhowrites · 1 year

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Jonathan Byers

Ignore me?- requested - Jonathan doesn't seem to pay attention to his girlfriend (angst, smut)

Her touch- requested - Jonathan gets flustered with his girlfriend (fluff)

New Year, new love- requested - After the breakup with Nancy, Jonathan didn't look forward to new years. Until he met Y/N (fluff)

#jonathan byers #Jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers angst #jonathan byers fluff #Jonathan Byers angst x reader #Jonathan Byers fluff x reader #jonathan byers masterlist

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prettybillycore · 2 years

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You’re Gorgeous, Doll || Billy Hargrove x Reader

Pairing(s): Billy Hargrove x Plus Size!Wheeler!Reader; Minor Jonathan Byers x Nancy Wheeler

Universe: Stranger Things

Summary: Billy didn’t understand why you wouldn’t come to visit him at the pool so eventually, you agreed to go after some convincing from Nancy. The problem came from someone who you didn’t expect to be there; your mother. Billy sees her making you feel guilty about your weight, so he does the absolute most to shut down her fat shaming.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: Fat Shaming, Body Confidence Issues, Possessive!Billy, Major Karen Wheeler Slander, Headcanon that Mrs. Wheeler has disordered eating. Minor Jonathan Slander if you squint.

A/N: the reader is gender neutral (neutral nicknames, outfits, pronouns, etc), the only thing that is not gender neutral is the style of bathing suit they wear later in the story. Mrs. Wheeler also treats the reader similarly to Nancy. I did my best to keep it gender-neutral tho!

Read it on A03 or here on Tumblr below the cut

Billy Hargrove was still learning how to be a good boyfriend. You appreciated all of his efforts to become a better person in general, but he definitely still had a ways to go. He loved you dearly, but he couldn’t always understand your insecurities. He wanted so badly to understand, but he would often become frustrated and not know what to say when you let your insecurities get the best of you. He saw you as one of the most beautiful people in the world and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t understand why you saw yourself as anything less. He would make a ‘tsk’ sound with his tongue and sigh when you would bring up anything about your weight insecurity. It’s not that he didn’t care, it’s that he could not, for the life of him, figure out why you were so sensitive about your weight. You knew the reason though, but you were afraid to tell him.

You were Y/n Wheeler. You were born a year after your older sister Nancy, which also made you one year younger than Billy. Your sister had a few classes with Billy before you all got out for the summer and she did her best to treat him with kindness. She didn’t understand what you saw in him, but she respected your choices. Billy also did his best to be nice to her and (much more reluctantly) Steve and Jonathan. You loved your sister with your whole heart. You two had always been close. You taught Mike how to be a Dungeon Master and you were like the older sister of the whole party at this point. You were not super popular in school, but you had a good group of friends + Billy to keep you company. The only person in your life who you felt like was against you was your mother, Karen Wheeler.

You knew that she was the reason, deep down, for your insecurities about your appearance. Of course, over the years at school people had made comments about your weight, but between Nancy, Steve, and Billy, people your age had pretty much stopped bullying you entirely. None of them, of course, could stop your mother. Billy and Steve had no idea what your mother had been saying to you. Nancy knew, you two had grown up together, but she didn’t know how to stop your mother. She tried to step in, but your mother was never receptive to what she had to say. You appreciated the effort, but your mother’s words were getting to the point that you were starting to really question if you were good enough for Billy.

You would bring up the ladder to your boyfriend and he would just roll his eyes. “If you weren’t good enough for me, Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be dating you, simple. I think you’re the most perfect person in the world, so we’re dating. Don’t overthink it, just run away with me when we graduate, yeah? We’ll get married at a courthouse and buy a little place in California, somewhere on the water. We can bring whoever else wants to come, if it’ll make you happy.”

You would toss him a small smile and do your best to hide the tears that were welling up in your eyes. You would softly plunge your face into his chest when you realized you weren’t going to be able to stop yourself from crying. He would let out a deep sigh and close his eyes in frustration. Even so, he would still hug you back tightly and let you cry it out. His head would be resting on top of yours and his arms would keep you locked in place until he could feel your heart rate calm down. He knew that he had to be missing something. This insecurity ran deep. You had helped in through so many of the insecurities that Neil had caused him. He wondered why you weren’t comfortable enough to tell him who was causing you all this distress. He knew it was still happening, so he suspected someone in your family, but he couldn’t place who. The bullies of your past, Tommy and Jason, left you completely alone now, hell, they wouldn’t even look in your direction. He doubted your sister or little brother were causing you this much anguish, but he couldn’t decipher which of your parents would be saying hurtful things about your appearance to you.

He eventually would pull away from the hug and rest one of his hands on your cheek. “If someone is being mean to you, you’d tell me right?”

You nodded. Your face was flushed and your eyes just looked so heavy. He could feel the defeat in your body and it absolutely broke his heart. “Yeah.”

He stepped back again and sat down on your bed. He would gesture for you to sit on his lap and you would always hesitate. He would gesture again, “You’re not gonna break me, Doll.”

You would give in and straddle his waist, balancing yourself by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and putting your knees firmly on the bed. “I just get nervous that I’m gonna crush you.”

He chuckled. He knows that you’re serious, but he does his best to lighten the weight in your heart. “Sweetheart, I love every part of you. From your lips, to your stomach, to your hands, to your gorgeous, gorgeous thighs.” The palms of his hands were flat against your bear skin. Your shorts rode up when you sat down, leaving your thighs defenseless to his touch. He ran his hands up and down your skin. You leaned your forehead against his to keep yourself steady.

“Billy…” You mumbled. It basically just fell out of your mouth.

You were so close, that you could see the mix of lust, love, and adoration in his eyes. One of his hands stayed on your thigh, the other cupped your face. Your breath hitched. He sucked in a breath and you could basically see his eyes rolling into the back of his head. “You are literally a god(dess). My god(dess).”

He pulled your lips to his and your thoughts started to fuzzy. Your hands started to pull at the hair at the base of his neck. “I love you, Billy.” It was a whisper between kisses.

He smiled into your kiss, though you could tell he was doing his best to hold back a groan. “I love you too, Y/n. You are my home.”

| < ♥️ > |

Billy did everything he could to give you the world and raise your confidence, but something your mom did/said would always ruin it. She would bring you back from the high that Billy gave you and make you feel like you were a little kid again. A little kid who had no say in anything again. She counted her calories the best she could for every meal, and she taught Nancy and you to do the same thing. She never tried to teach Mike; he was a boy and got to eat almost anything he wanted to ‘grow big and strong.’ You and Nancy were forced to follow your mother’s ways in your pre-teen and early teen years. Nancy was doing her best to get away from it, as were. You just had a different genetic makeup, and different medications, and your body just had a different shape than your sister and mother. Nancy never made you feel bad about that. She would offer to do your makeup and would go clothes shopping with you if you needed moral support. She had even gotten Steve and/or Jonathan to join in on it a few times. The first time she started to see good in Billy is when you dragged him shopping with you two. He treated you like royalty the entire time and Nancy was happy that you had a partner who lifted you up; since you still had a mom that carried you down.

Since you started dating Billy, you were getting more confident. It was the little things– wearing one of his shirts to school as a tight crop top with a jacket over it, wearing colors of eye shadow your mother said brought out the roundness of your face, and letting yourself enjoy lunch periods again. Billy had his hand pressed against the small of your back, skin completely exposed by his shirt and his eyes, again full of love and lust at how beautiful he thought you looked. However, not even he could get you to wear a swimsuit. You two hadn’t seen each other stripped that far down yet because you weren’t there yet, and he respected that entirely. He had one problem though; you refused to come to visit him at the pool for longer than a few minutes. Your family was at the Hawkins pool all the time this summer. He saw your little brother and your mother all the time there. Your sister even was there with some of your other friends sometimes. Billy asked Nancy why you didn’t come, in a joking manner, of course. He thought you were just coming in your own car or something. Nancy’s response made him more annoyed and confused though. “They’re not coming. They don’t do pools.”

Every time you stopped by the pool, you were fully clothed and sat with Billy in the office while he was on his lunch breaks. He was completely respectful of the fact that you weren’t ready to have sex, but he was dying to spend more time with you this summer. He was missing you terribly now that he had this job. If you brought all the little shitheads to the pool a few times a week he would be able to spend more time with you; plus he thought you would look so cute in a swimsuit; hair slicked back while playing Marco polo with the party. He wanted to see it so badly, but every time he asked about you bringing the party to the pool for the day, you would just shake your head and change the subject.

One day, when Nancy was there with Jonathan and a few other friends, Billy approached them when it was his turn to head out onto the pool deck. Heather eyed him curiously as she made her way inside, but she didn’t say anything. “Wheeler,” he called.

Nancy quirked her eyebrow at the young lifeguard. Jonathan scooted a little closer to her on their shared beach chair, which didn’t go unnoticed by Billy. Though, he chose to ignore the older Byers brother, whatever he was thinking wasn’t of importance to Billy right now. “What can I do for you, Hargrove?”

“I think you know,” he said with a slick smile. Though it soon faded when Nancy shook her head.

“She’s not gonna come here Billy, not in a suit. Probably not even with a T-shirt over one.”

Billy grumbled and swayed a bit. “Do you know why? I thought their confidence was getting better. I want them to be able to enjoy the one summer activity this shitty town has to offer– plus I’m missing them like hell right now.”

Nancy smiled at him and Jonathan watched the interaction with a puzzled expression. “I will try to convince them to come. Are you working tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m on all afternoon.”

“I can’t guarantee that they will bend, but I will try. I’m in charge of giving the party something to do tomorrow and I told them we were going to come here. They haven’t come much this summer because they’re all kinda nerdy and the indoorsy types. Us older siblings are trying to get them all to go out more,” she said, briefly turning her attention to Jonathan.

“I appreciate it Nanc, really. And like, I don’t want them to feel super pressured. I would just like if they stay for a while, even if they decide they aren’t ready to swim, just be here while I’m trapped here.”

Nancy’s smile grew wider. “I never expected you to be so good for them, Billy, but I am really glad that you are. You help them more than you realize, I think.”

Billy felt his heart soften. “I know that people in this day and age can be really shitty to each other about their looks. I see Y/n for who they are on the inside; a fucking angel really and they have the looks to match. I’ve never been able to figure out who the fuck made them feel so shit for their weight, but if I figure it out, I will kick their ass.”

Nancy could see his jaw lock. He was staring toward the ground as he spoke. She knew it was a lot for him to be genuine with someone other than you. “You really are doing so much more for them than you realize, I’ll talk to them about it tonight.”

“Thank you, Wheeler. Have a good day here at the pool.” He gave Jonathan a bit of a stare down. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something that Billy didn’t like about Jonathan. He did his best to be nice to him for your sake though. “You too, Byers.”

| < ♥️ > |

Nancy was nervous to talk to you, but she thought you might come if she expressed to you what Billy had said. She knew that you sometimes wondered, out of insecurity– not out of reason, if you were good enough for Billy. She knew that you questioned if you were worth Billy Hargrove’s time. She also knew though, that Billy was completely in love with you and she just had to figure out how to make you see that for certain. She knocked on your door after she arrived home from the pool and changed into some dry clothes. “Come in– oh hey Nanc! How was your day?”

She tossed you a smile, but you could sense her nerves as she shut the door. You shut the book you were reading and pulled off your headphones. You had been listening to a mixtape in your walkman and vibing by yourself for the evening. There were way fewer family dinners during the summertime because everyone’s schedules were so different and you both were honestly thankful for that. “I had a great day. You know everything has been so stressful and all; it was nice to just go to the pool and relax. In fact, I’m taking all the kids tomorrow for a pool day. You should join us.” You went to say something, but she put her hand up. “Wait wait wait, before you say no. I wanna tell you what Billy said today when Jonathan and I were out there.”

“Alright?”

“Have you ever told him about mom?”

“About mom?” you asked.

Nancy gave you that look. “You know what I’m talking about.” She sat at the edge of your bed. She was staring at you. It felt like she was trying to stare through your soul.

“The things she says about my body? About food? About my clothes? No, I haven’t. It’s not that I won’t tell him or anything, it’s just that I’m nervous too. He’s receptive to me being insecure about things, but I think it annoys him or makes him anxious when I talk about it too much. Like he sees me a certain way and can’t see why I don’t see myself that way. I know it’s partly because I haven’t told him about mom, but I also just think he wants the change in mindset to happen quicker than I am capable of.”

“He doesn’t want to push you, Y/n, trust me. Neither do I. You don’t have to talk to him about any of that if you aren’t ready. I just–”

“Then what is this about?” Your tone was a little snappy, but Nancy ignored it. She knew it was because you were getting anxious.

“Billy is totally head over heels in love with you, Y/n, just the way you are. I didn’t understand what you saw in him when you first introduced him to the family, but I really think I understand now. He’s still an asshole, but he’s learning and he thinks the world of you. I know your brain sometimes gets in the way of you seeing that, but trust me, as your sister I want what’s best for you, and Billy Hargrove, shockingly, seems to be just that.” You furrowed your eyebrows and she continued to speak. “You remember that bathing suit we bought you last fall when they were all on sale because they were going out of season?”

“Yeah, the teal one with the side cutouts?”

“Yeah, that one! You should come with me and the party to the pool tomorrow and wear it. Before you say no, I promised Billy I would ask you to come. He came up to me today and basically begged me to get you to come to the pool with us. He’s missing you a lot since he started his job. You know everything that happened with the mall; we almost lost the Byers family, we almost lost him, and Steve and Robin! He just wishes he could spend more time with you and I’m sure now that he’s pretty much back to healed his dad is making him work. I think he’s still feeling the effects of that near-death experience, you know? He said that he wished you could enjoy the pool as we do in the summer. He also said he didn’t care if you just decided to wear normal clothes and sat on the deck with me all day. He just wants to see you.”

You felt your heart swell. You weren’t going to cry at that moment, but you could totally see yourself crying later when it was time to head to bed and Nancy was gone. Billy was brash, stern, and easily annoyed, but the fact that he shared how he was feeling with Nancy told you that this meant a lot to him. He genuinely was missing you and wanted to spend a day at the pool so he could see you more. The thought was precious to you. You were incredibly nervous about going to the pool because you knew that there was a chance that your mom was going to show up at some point (as she and the other local moms often just appeared there in the later afternoons), but you pushed that feeling down deep. You did your best to shove it inside the deepest cavity of your chest and lock it in there. “Alright, Nancy. I’ll go with you and the party tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll wear a suit, but I’ll go to the pool.”

She smiled brightly and threw her arms around you in a tight, lopsided hug. “I’m so glad you’re gonna come with us! Wear whatever you are gonna be most comfortable in, Y/n. I’m sure Billy will just be happy to see you there.”

| < ♥️ > |

You woke up the next more to your stomach being tied in a knot. You knew it was from your nerves, but shit, you didn’t expect it to be as bad as it was. You ended up staying in your room for the most part until the early afternoon so you could give yourself a chance to relax before going to the pool. Nancy didn’t bother you, and shockingly neither did your mother. Nancy only knocked on your door about 30 minutes before you were supposed to leave so she could make sure you knew it was time to get ready.

You pulled yourself from your cocoon of blankets and reached into the darkest part of your closet. You felt the bathing suit material squish in your hand and you almost grimaced. It was crumpled up for almost a year, but it looked perfectly fine when you pulled it out. It was the beautiful shade of teal that you remembered it to be. The cutouts on each side ran from under bust height down to the curve of your hips. They were broken up by bathing suit strings that crossed over the gaps. It was so cute, but you were absolutely terrified.

You took a deep breath before putting it on. It fit you perfectly. You looked in your bathroom mirror and you were honestly surprised by how much you liked the shape on your figure. It made you feel confident in the shape of your different body parts; much like Billy, it made your parts feel like they were meant to make up the whole you. You took another deep breath before deciding to pull an oversized men’s romantics shirt over your head. Billy always seemed to like it on you. It was one of the few shirts that you felt confident in. It was missing the top part of the collar ( you had cut it out a long time ago) so it showed a little more skin than the average T-shirt, but it also was loose around your hips. It looked super cute, in your opinion, with a pair of denim shorts pulled under it. You pulled your favorite pair of shorts on to finish off your bathing suit cover-up look and you checked yourself in the mirror one more time. Your hair was resting a little wildly today, but you decided not to worry about it too much; you were going to the pool after all. The shorts were just barely peaking out from under the bottom hem of the shirt and you felt pretty good about yourself. You weren’t sure if you would have the confidence to take off this overlayer, but you knew that would be okay. You were just excited to surprise visit your boyfriend and spend some time with the collective of younger teens that you inherited from Steve while he was working at Scoops Ahoy.

Nancy and the party were all excited when you came down the stairs. Dustin and Max seemed the most excited out of all of them though. Dustin had become a fan of you because of your amazing DMing skills, but as he got older, he’s just become such a sweetheart. When he started high school you were 100% going to have Billy help you look out for him. Asshats like Jason and Tommy would surely try to target him.

Max and you had a special bond. She told you once, prior to the incident at the mall, that she thought of you as an older sister. You knew her and Billy had issues; you accidentally became a mediator for the siblings pretty soon into your relationship. Things had gotten a lot more stable since Billy returned home from the hospital, between your help and the discovery of monsters, he seemed pretty keen on turning his life around. Max was grateful that you were helping him become a better person. You both knew Neil wouldn’t let him receive the therapy he needed. This was the best you could do for now.

She ran up and gave you a hug. It had been a while since you had seen her. You were both healed from your injuries at this point and you thought she looked fantastic for everything you all had been through. The whole party, even Will and El, seemed to be looking bright today. “Damn, you’re all really excited about the pool, huh?”

Some of them nodded, and some of them shrugged. “I think we’re excited to play pool games with you and Nancy like we did when we were kids.”

Dustin’s comment made you actually kind of want to get into the pool if you were honest with yourself. “Well, we can’t play games here. Everyone pick a car; Jonathan’s or mine and we’ll get going!”

| < ♥️ > |

It was a struggle trying to get everyone into two cars, but you all managed to make it work for the short ride to Hawkins Pool. You were filling up with anxiety as everyone made their way toward either the locker rooms or the pool deck. It was getting close to time. “Well if it isn’t the love of my life.”

Billy approached you from the locker room exit. His expression alerted you that he was excited to see you and also surprised. His eyes trailed up and down your figure before he placed his hands on your hips and leaned in for a kiss. “So Nancy was able to convince you, huh Doll?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Well, it was actually what you told her yesterday that made me want to come. I miss you too Billy. I never thought I would say this, but fuck I miss school. I can’t wait until we are back and I’m with you for every second I can be.”

His face was plastered with a grin. He placed a deep kiss on your lips; it was so passionate it was almost bruising. His fingers were playing with the bathing suit strings of your suit through the fabric of your shirt. “Doll, I am so glad you are here. Just you being here makes this place a thousand times better. Why don’t you join Nancy, Byers, and the rugrats in the pool and I’ll get you out when I have my lunch break.”

You sighed and thought about it for a moment. You looked over Billy’s shoulder and saw your sister, her boyfriend, and all of the party playing toward the entrance to the pool. They were splashing each other and laughing. It was scary, but you would be in the water most of the time today anyway, you might as well hop in and have some fun since everyone you came with had gotten in. It was pretty blistering out just to sit on the sidelines. You eventually nodded to him and kissed his nose. He blinked in surprise, which he did every time you kissed his nose, and you giggled. You stepped out of his grasp and pulled the romantics' shirt over your head. When your eyes met Billy’s again, he’s flicking his tongue and shaking his head. “What?”

He set his hands on your hips again and pulled you even closer than he had before. “You are so so hot. You’re gorgeous, Doll. I mean it.”

You pulled back enough that you could see his face. You could see it in his expression, Nancy was right; he was completely enamored with you; stretchmarks, cellulite, rolls, and all.

You didn’t understand it. You couldn’t see past all the things your mother had picked on you for, but somehow it went right through for Billy. “When we first met, did you think the same thing?”

Billy’s face became confused. When you first met Billy, it was his first day at Hawkins High. Some of the girls in your grade were laughing at your appearance as you were walking by them in the hall. Billy heard what one of them said as he was walking in the same direction as you. You had heard them too, but you had decided to ignore them. Billy wasn’t sure why, but he was incredibly bothered by the comment. Your eyes briefly met and he could see your sadness even though you didn’t say anything. It wasn’t usually like him, at the time, to protect people he didn’t know. He kept his circle big, but everyone in his circle was at an arm’s length. “Hey!” he barked. The girls all jumped out of their skin and your head snapped to look toward him. He could feel all eyes on him. He realized, in that moment, that you were considered one of the school’s punching bags and he wanted to change that. “Leave them alone. Focus on your fuckin’ selves before you go commenting on other people’s shit.” The words were vile; they came out of his throat with the burn of venom. The girls all shrank and quickly began moving in the other direction. They were whispering about how he was a dick, but he didn’t care. He looked toward you.

Your eyes were alight with fear and wonder. He’ll never forget how you looked that day; flared blue jeans, a metallic shirt– tucked in, combat boots, and men’s flannel hung loosely around your shoulders. Your ears were pierced and you were wearing some kind of all-black necklace. He could tell you were heavier, but he thought you looked adorable nonetheless. Your weight never stopped him from thinking you were just about the cutest person he had ever seen. “Uh… thanks-”

“Billy, Billy Hargrove.”

“Thanks, Billy Hargrove.”

“No problem, Doll. I’ll walk you to class if you’d like. I don’t really give a shit if I’m late to mine.”

You smiled a bit. His heart almost melted entirely on the spot. “That would be nice.”

“Darlin’,” he said, his tone almost scolding. His hands were on your cheeks, “Never question how I feel about you. I have had my eyes on you since that day and nothing anyone says is gonna change that. When I say I think you’re gorgeous, Doll, I really do mean it with everything I’ve got.”

You folded into his chest. Your arms squeezed him tightly around his middle. His hands found their place on the back of your head and on your lower back. He gave you a tight squeeze in return. “I love you so much, Billy. You make me feel so much better about myself and if my opinion matters at all. You are the hottest man I’ve ever seen and I feel incredibly lucky to call you my boyfriend.”

It was all said in a mumble against his chest, but he heard every word. Each one vibrated his skin slightly and honestly, it was the first time he ever felt like happy crying. He pulled air through his nose harshly and smiled down at you as he backed out of the hug. “I love you too, Sweetheart. I have to get to my post before Heather comes for my ass, but we will talk about this later.”

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll see you on your lunch break.” He planted one last kiss on your lips before turning away from you.

What neither of you saw coming was what happened next. Billy only made it around the corner before he heard your mother’s stern voice. Every word made him cringe. “Y/n Wheeler! Put that shirt back on. You don’t need to just be in a bathing suit. There’s too much showing. You can swim with that shirt on; it’s old and unbecoming anyways.”

You spun around to face her, your skin was hot and you felt like you were crumbling under her gaze. Her friends were whispering to each other while she was staring at you sternly. Her hands were resting on her hips as she and all of her friends were wearing just bathing suits. Of course, they all had similar figures though. Their figures matched their fatphobic ideals. “Mom please–” Your voice came out smaller than expected. It cracked under the pressure.

“No ‘mom-ing’ me. You can’t just walk around like that. You have too much weight on your bones for that. Where did you even get that suit? It’s hideous.” she paused for a moment. You knew she wanted you to put the shirt back on so the conversation could be over with, but you were completely frozen and mortified. Some of the other patrons at the pool were starting to notice the situation.

“I–”

“Don’t argue now, I am your mother.”

That was the moment Billy snapped. He came flying back around the corner and placed his arm around your middle. He rested it on your hip and basically lodged himself into your side. He wanted you to know that he was right there and he was not going to back down from this situation. He had always been civil with your mother, even through her attempts to flirt with him. This he could not be civil about, he just knew that this is what you had been hiding. Mrs. Wheeler wanted people to like her and if she had known that Billy was in earshot, he doubted that she would have said anything at all out loud. “Suddenly, the self-loathing makes sense,” he started. He was staring down your mother. You were watching his face from beside him. You could see the pain and anger in his expression. “All the time Y/n asks for reassurance, and now I finally understand why. You say shit like that all the time, don’t you Mrs. Wheeler?”

“Billy. I didn’t see you th–”

“No, you didn’t. I was on the way back to my post when I heard you harassing my Y/n. I am not going to let you talk to other guests of the pool like that, especially your own kids. You need to take a big fucking look at yourself, Mrs. Wheeler. How could you put your child down like that? I constantly have to remind Y/n that they are worthy of love and attention, despite their looks of all things, and now I know it’s because of how you treat them. Don’t try to force your kids to look or dress a certain way; you’re not going to get your way, you’re just going to make them less confident in their appearance. I will tell them every day that they are beautiful if it means eventually they will start to believe it. Jonathan does the same sort of thing for Nancy. Fuck, I will spend the rest of my life trying to convince Y/n that they are gorgeous as I see them, but Y/n, Nancy, Jonathan, and I should not be responsible for undoing years of trauma, the trauma that is completely on you, by the way, if you couldn’t tell by the anger in my voice.”

Your mother was completely stunned and so were her friends. Billy Hargrove had put your mom in her place, something no one had ever done for you. You knew that she had to be pissed, but you really didn’t care. Billy just made you feel so loved at that moment that nothing else really mattered to you. “I… I had no idea that–”

“Bullshit,” Billy didn’t let her finish her thought. “All of you, out of my pool. Hawkins Pool is a safe place, and you aren’t allowed to be in it when you talk to your kids like that.”

You looked toward your mom. She looked like she wanted to fire back, but one of her friends placed a hand on her shoulder and told her to give it up. They all liked Billy, they were going to fight with him about being banned from the people. They knew if Karen kept trying she was going to get them banned for life. “I… I don’t– thank you, Billy.”

He kissed your temple though you could tell his attention was still focused on making sure your mother left the pool grounds. “Doll, if she ever says anything like that again, you tell me and we will share plenty more words that she won’t like.”

You smiled up at him. “You really are in love with me, aren’t you?”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your chin. “Again, Doll, never doubt my feelings for you.”

End :)

Tags: @whoringrove @thatonegirlwhowrites @alexis-m-kruger @mothshabby

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sheisjoeschateau · 2 months

Text

"...at the Chateau, we'll be alright."

Steve Harrington x Jonathan Byers x fem!reader A crossover au inspired by Saltburn and Call Me by Your Name. Additional inpso from Joe's college theater performance as in Spring Awakening.

Song Inso: "Chateau" by Djo

Strangers to best friends to lovers. Slowburn. Angst, angst, angst. Fluff, fluff, fluff. Hurt/comfort. Romance, with polyamory themes and schemes. Smut with hella plot.

Summary: The reader lives with her parents at a fancy chateau, in France. This year, her father offers their home as a housing sanctuary to a select student or graduate. He decides to invite two graduate students to live with their family over the summer, coming from different working class backgrounds, and help with their academic paperwork as a professor of archaeology.

Steve Harrington: a rich kid from a swanky boarding school with a bad boy reputation and too much charm for his own good. Surprisingly, his grades say otherwise. A’s and B’s, his parents claim that is seeking one-on-one tutoring so that he can progress in his studies — but it sounds more like an excuse to ship him off for longer periods of time, giving them an out for having their son around during the summer. The pretty boy’s all about ladies…but that’s only because he hasn’t met a boy who awakens his bisexuality. Yet.

Jonathan Byers: a kid from the lower working class, excelling in his studies and AP programs at the same boarding school as Steve which he only got into because of community sponsorship and grants. Quiet wallflower, little to no friends, a bit cynical. A closeted gay, he’s more determined to stick with being perceived as “ace” than come out of the closet. Until he goes to stay at a chateau with a handsome boy, and a beautiful girl who understands him.

Twists, turns and terrifying risks, you all put your hearts on the line that summer at the Chateau. Add the reader's cousin Eddie into the mix, along with her best friend Robin, Steve's ex-girlfriend Nancy, Jonathan's estranged mother and your progressive parents alongside Steve's absent parents -- it's a cruel summer.

But here, together at the chateau, you'll be alright.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊ ⋆SNEAK PREVIEW⋆ ⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ This will be another series of mine, dedicated to my boy. Coming soon.

[excerpt from the story]

There was something about the way you twirled in your sundress that reminded Steve of the bible.

He wasn't religious, nor did he think any god truly loved or believed in him. But here, watching you exist in your garden of eden at the Chateau, the good book almost seemed real.

You resembled something otherworldly. Heavenly, sent straight from above. Innocent, yet wise. Kind, yet strong. Powerful and delicate at the same time. Your laugh was soft, feminine and pure. Your spirit was whole. Your smile blinded him with joy. Your beauty was divine, angelic and overwhelming. You were too much…and yet, you could never be enough.

But that wasn’t because you yourself weren’t enough. No, rather it was because Steve would never be able to get enough of you. He could never be close enough. He could never be near you enough. He could never tell you enough words that would accurately describe the way that you made him feel.

The word ‘enough’ simply did not apply when it boiled down to you.

And yet, as Steve swept you up into his arms — discarding his books and his education down onto the lawn, much more driven to study you — holding you felt like that was all that he would ever need for his life to be considered enough. The feeling of your waist in his grasp, his strong arms circling your petite torso as your hair flew in the wind of the circle he spun you in, felt like a tornado. A cyclone, sweeping you both off your feet so that it could take you far away from everything and everyone. You were this fragile flower in his hands, yet unbreakable. Real, but too good to be true. A true story, but a fairytale of the mind.

Jonathan saw you this way — but from a more niche, almost platonic point of view. It was just as codependent, yet approached with more independence and the ability to exist on his own two feet. He’d do whatever it took to keep you, no matter what the hell that took. And he knew that to some degree, a pretty scary degree, that he needed you too. But he was content with the need. Satisfied, at peace. Completely grounded, secure. Unlike Steve, who smiled out of fear and loved with his whole heart on the line. Because Byers knew how to be alone. He knew how to rely on himself, fill his own cup even when it was empty — which was all the time. Byers was the epitome of “I walk alone.” The human embodiment of solitude. He preferred your company, your grace and your presence. It made him better, and stronger — because he’d known prior how to operate without it.

Harrington didn’t. Harrington needed someone, all the time. As an only child, the loneliness had suffocated him in his big house with no parents. He’d had no one to shush the nightmares away, no one to hold him whenever the monsters felt near. No one to run to and trust with any secret that he had. No true friend who would listen to his most intrusive thoughts without casting him away. No girl that wanted him in the ways that he so desperately sought to be loved, not just lusted after. Until you came along, sheltering him from all his deepest and darkest fears, childhood traumas and the ever-looming possibility of rejection. He had been a threat to himself, and you put that threat to rest with just a soft brush of your lips against his knuckles and the touch of your tender hands.

Whereas with Byers, you made him feel seen but not disturbed. You allowed him to be present without needing to overcompensate. You granted him refuge, earning his trust with your actions instead of your words. He didn’t need your touch to calm him. Rather, he felt steadied by just knowing that you were here. You knew that touch was never a friend to Jonathan, which is why you never pushed yourself in. Instead, he found himself drawn to you. He didn’t recoil at the physical contact made between the two of you. A hug, a warm embrace that lingered just an extra second or two. A gentle squeeze of a hand as you shot him a wistful smile. The most feather-like of kisses pressed to his cheek to say hello, good morning, good evening or goodnight. It felt…nurturing. Assuring, fostering.

Out on the outstretched lawn in front of the Chateau, acreage upon acreage, Jonathan watched your hair gleam underneath the golden glow of the setting sun. He let the Marlboro in his mouth dangle between his teeth, the curriculum resting upon his lap as the scent of nicotine and fresh air filled his senses. The mixture of it was perfect for the scene laid out before him: Steve spinning you around, his white collared shirt unbuttoned just enough to wear his tie swung in the breeze as he continued swirling you around like a princess. And when he’d placed you back onto your feet, he peppered every single inch of your face with an obscene amount of stolen kisses as you giggled like the darling that you so effortlessly are. Jonathan felt his lips tug upwards at the corner, unable to help himself when it came to the two of you. His shoulder angel and shoulder devil.

He turned the page of his literature books, revealing his unfinished letter that he’d begun writing at lunch in response to his mother. Joyce had written to him, asking him to tell her everything about the summer. How was it in France? What was it like? Were the hosts kind, was he being polite towards them? What about you? Were the two of you getting along, as well as the other student?

Jonathan glanced up from his scribbled cursive, back at the two of you. Steve was cupping your cheek, placing a flower in your hair with his free hand before moving to cup your other cheek so that he was cradling your face. His perfect, sharp nose nuzzled to the tip of yours sweetly. Jonathan felt his heart swell as the two of you turned to look at him with pure love. Your arms stretched out towards him, along with Steve’s, beckoning him. Come play with us. He grinned at you both wholeheartedly, holding up a hand — which you both knew meant he would, just a little longer. You’d all learned each others’ love languages by now, along with how to communicate through gestures and expressions. Body language was all of your specialty, in a multitude of ways that no one else could ever possibly understand. Jonathan didn’t mind that. It was only meant for the three of you.

Flicking his cigarette, he glanced back down at the incomplete letter he was ready to finish writing for his mother. He took his pen, letting the ink spill onto the parchment. He'd already written down things earlier, telling her that your parents had taken them in as their own. He wrote about how much your father made him adore his studies in ways he never had before, and how he'd been inspired to help Steve study alongside him as an assistant tutor of sorts. He wrote to her about an Aperol spritz had somehow become the drink of the summer, using fresh citrus from the gardens of your estate, and how it made uncharacteristically sappy. How you and Steve made him that way too, even without the poison coursing through his veins.

Something about them makes me feel like I can, Mom. I keep asking myself if this all just a dream. Or maybe, it’s the past? Not sure. Either way, just thought I’d ask. Not because I am seeking the answer, from you or the universe. Rather, I’m simply existing and letting it all just happen. C’est la vie. I know…so very French. Perhaps I'm running a fever. A lovesick sort of fever.

Jonathan grinned down at his writing with wry amusement at himself. At his life.

He turned over his shoulder, glancing back at the majestic chateau behind him. Chateau Chalamet. Your childhood home. His new home, as of that summer…which was dwindling away, day by day. Every day that passed meant that he had less time. All of you were losing time. He sighed, resuming his writing.

I’ll turn back the time whenever this all ends. In my mind, this will always be a home away from home. Which is something I never thought I would say. I’m not really sure what my future holds. But it doesn’t really concern me at the moment. Now right now. Right now, I'm at the chateau and I feel alright. Love, Jonathan

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bi-disaster-yn · 2 years

Text

Ride

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader

Summary: Billy is on his way to make it up to you after an argument but something dark is waiting for him along the way. (Based on Ride by Lana Del Ray).

A/N: Billy owns this song and Born to Die, Lana told me so herself !!!! Honestly poured my soul into this and broke my own heart along the way so apologies for all the angst coming your way.

I've been out on that open road You can be my full time, daddy, white and gold Singing blues has been getting old You can be my full time, baby, hot or cold

“That’s right, ya piece of shit, run away when things just get that little bit too tough for ya!” Neil hurled at Billy as he scampered out of the house, desperately fumbling his car keys in his hands. Billy’s heart was beating so hard and fast that he feared it was going to break through his ribs and rip his chest open.

“I’m coming, baby,” He mumbled over and over like a prayer, finally finding enough control over his actions to unlock the car and get in the driver’s seat. “I’m coming.”

You fidgeted in your room, waiting for him. The window lay open which permitted entry to the cold air and it engulfed you in an empty embrace, making the wait more agonising. The dark sky dotted with a few stars and the obscured figures of trees should have been the background to your Billy climbing in through the window. Instead, it was a bleak void of nothingness. You stared at the window, willing him to come to you.

Any minute, you reasoned with yourself. Any minute now, he’ll be here.

Billy slammed his foot on the gas pedal, the tape of his last drive blaring through the speakers in a deafening attack. He quickly turned the music off, needing the silence to think. It was only 20 minutes to your house if he took a shortcut down the long road on the outskirts rather than driving through town.

“I’m coming, baby. Don’t worry, I’m coming.”

He’d promised you that day at the pool that he’d come and see you that night. You just needed to give him a chance to make it up to you after the explosive argument you’d had a few days prior. He was going to prove it to you that he was better than that and he could be better, for you.

“Leave your window open, please. I’ll be there.” Billy had pleaded with you. As much as you felt like you should have pushed him away, there was something about the way his eyes turned glassy and how his face scrunched up in despair. You couldn’t deny him when he looked at you like that.

Now, you fixated on your open window and braced the chill, waiting for him to come and make his case.

Billy hadn’t registered anything his dad had yelled at him but instead frantically reviewed his options for an escape plan. Once he’d settled on a way out, he’d pushed past his dad and out the door. A vase followed after him and ricocheted off his back, falling to the ground where it shattered.

It hurt like hell but Billy didn’t care. It was temporary. If he didn’t get to you and make things right, he might as well descend into the fiery pits and accept his fate as a lost soul.

Don't break me down

I've been travelin' too long I've been trying too hard

Billy anxiously shuffled in his seat, almost embarrassed to look at himself in the rear-view mirror. He tapped his thumb off the steering wheel and swallowed thickly, toying with the idea that this might have all been in vain. You didn’t actually owe him anything. You were entitled to listen to what he had to say and then kick him out, telling him you never wanted to see him again.

He shook his head violently, as if to banish the very thought. It wasn’t over until it was over.

Clearing his throat, he decided to work on what he was going to say to win you back but inspiration failed him. Every word, sentence or paragraph that came into his head simply wasn’t good enough. It didn’t convey how he had spent the last few days after the argument wallowing in self-pity and how he had hated himself for raising his voice to you. He was only too aware of how threatened and small he felt when his dad shouted at him. The idea that he’d made you feel like that was too much to bear.

“Hey baby, remember that time we went to the beach.” Billy said aloud in his own little rehearsal. “You hired me a surfboard and you watched me.” He smiled to himself thinking of the memory that he had held so dear.

“I hadn’t done it in a while, so I kept falling over. But you just smiled and told me to get back up again. You didn’t rush me or tell me that anyone was gonna be mad if I took any longer. You gave me all the time in the world.”

It had been the first time in too long that when Billy didn’t get something right first time, no one had berated him for it. There was no Neil tutting and sighing at him, causing dread to settle at the pit of his stomach. There was no teacher giving him a disappointed frown or looking at him like he was hopeless. Even better, he didn’t feel the need to be self-deprecating or insist that he should have been better.

When he fell off that surfboard, he was met with your kind smile and encouragement. “It’s okay, honey, try again.”

You had taken his aviator sunglasses off of him and tried them on for yourself, flashing him a cheeky grin, which had made him bashful. His cheeks hurt where he couldn’t resist the smile that stretched across his face as he looked at you; in the warm glow of golden hour, wearing his sunglasses and watching him surf. Either he’d swallowed too much saltwater or God herself was really standing before him and giving him the time of day.

“I like these a bit too much, babe, might not give you them back.” You chuckled.

“Keep ‘em. They look better on you.”

Billy sighed to his empty car and prayed that you would forgive him. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have been more patient with you, the way you were with me that day.”

I hear the birds on the summer breeze

I drive fast I am alone at midnight

The drive was excruciating. Whilst he had reasoned with himself that it would only be 20 minutes and the roads were clear, it still seemed to take an age. He hated the idea of you waiting for him, wondering to yourself if he had changed his mind.

Putting his foot to the floor, he sent out a mental appeal in hopes that you would be able to read his mind and know that he was coming.

Despite his attempts to transmit a message through an invisible signal, you still sat staring out into the bleak night sky, oblivious as to where he was. A quick glance at your watch told you it was close to midnight, nearly an hour gone from when Billy was meant to have arrived.

You couldn’t help the bouncing of your leg or the involuntary scratching of your arm. Images of Billy’s desperate face revolved round your mind, taunting you with the possibility that you had been taken for a fool. As much as you tried to shake them off; the inevitable questions of ‘what if he has changed his mind’ took a hold of your shoulders and shook you forcibly. You couldn’t fend them off with logic or reason.

Chewing your thumbnail, you looked down at the acceptance letters on your nightstand. One for Yale and one for UCLA. If tonight had went the way you had planned then you would be confirming your place at UCLA and you would be Billy’s ticket back to California. You would study and he would find a job. He could go to the beach whenever he wanted and inhale the fresh sea air. He hated the stench of Hawkins and craved the safety and warmth of the Californian sun. You wanted to take him away from this horrible place and his pathetic excuse of a father.

The possibility of a fight with Neil as an explanation for his lateness had occurred to you but it was quickly written off. After every fight with his dad, he would always find a way to sneak out and come to your house. You’d treat any cuts or bruises that he had and then take him in your arms, kissing the crown of his head until he fell asleep with tears running down his face.

Always, he found a way back to you after a fight. If he didn’t come, it was because he had chosen not to.

Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I I've got a war in my mind So, I just ride Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

If he could just get to end of this country road, then it would be just be a few quick turns and he would have reached you. He was on the home straight.

That was until something came smashing through the windscreen, causing Billy to panic and swerve off the road. His body jolted to the side and he smacked his head off the window.

Grunting and blinking, he looked up and assessed the damage of his car. “Piece of shit.” He muttered repeatedly, hitting his hand off the dashboard. A sharp pain permeated through his skull and when he put his fingertips to his forehead, he could feel the blood of a fresh wound.

“Dammit.” He groaned, this time assaulting the steering wheel. He opened the door and clambered out of the car, circling round it and assessing the irreparable damage that had been caused.

At this point he was flustered and frustrated, violently kicking the car and chanting “piece of shit” at it despite how unproductive that was. This further setback on his way to you was eating away him angrily and he looked up at the sky, wishing there was some way he could get a message to you.

“I am still coming. Please, just hang on for me, okay?”

The engine had been damaged in the crash and smoke danced in the air around the bonnet. Billy walked round to inspect the damage and attempt to formulate a plan when he noticed something peculiar in the cracks where the windscreen had been smashed. He dabbed his fingers on the substance and analysed the disgusting mucus texture as it stretched when he flexed his hands.

“What the hell?” He whispered.

Suddenly, he felt the presence of something or someone scatter behind him and a new type of anxiety took purchase in his body. He swung round in hopes to catch the sneaky creature out, puffing his chest out with all his might in hopes of intimidating the poor bastard who dared try to scare him.

“Who’s there?!” He shouted into the darkness, taking uncertain steps forward and darting his eyes round like a hawk. “Hey! I said who’s there?!”

That’s when an unknown source wrapped round his ankle, dragging him to the ground and pulling him backwards into the abandoned building behind him. Billy screamed and yelled so loudly his voice grew hoarse, only there was no one around to hear him and come to his aid.

Amongst being dragged along the floor he manged to hold on to an archway and desperately tried to pull his ankle back from his captor. He remembered the time he’d rented The Shining for you both to watch and how you teased him – not for being scared but rather for pretending he wasn’t. He had protested all night that he wasn’t scared but any sudden movement had him flinching.

“Baby, just admit it! You’re terrified!” You had roared in laughter as he audibly gasped at the scene where Jack Nicholson launched his head through the door.

“I am not!” He grumbled back at you but still held on to you that little bit tighter. Just for good measure.

He wished you could see him now and that you would come and save him from this horrifying monster. He would admit to you until he was blue in the face that he was scared, just as long as you were there to protect him from whatever it was this creature had planned for him. If you could find your way to this archway, saintlike and strong, you’d be able to free him from this.

But you never came and it didn’t take long for the monster to overpower Billy. His hands slipped from the archway, pulling him downwards into the lair of the Mind Flayer.

Don’t leave me now

Don't say goodbye Don't turn around Leave me high and dry

By 2 a.m. you’d given up on any notion that Billy was coming that night. A bloodcurdling rage caused you to swing your window shut with a slam, locking it so that the monster, Billy Hargrove couldn’t get to you. Tears of frustration streamed down your puffy cheeks as you planted your palms on your dresser and with one furious sweep, threw everything to the floor.

Everything came to a crash in a pointless mess. Items collided with each other mid-air and then scattered apart on the floor, much like your hurt, sadness and exasperation.

Billy’s sunglasses lay amongst the rubble, staring back at your panting and bitter frame. Squeezing your eyes shut and putting your hands to your head, you tried to fight the tears off but it just inspired more to fall.

You remembered when Billy had driven you out to a lake in the woods on a hot summer day. He had found a tyre swing which you had gladly got on as he pushed you. The two of you laughed like children and as you were pushed further and further into the air on the swing you felt an eternal sense of youth. It was as though nothing could ever be bad after this. You and Billy had found your own slice of heaven.

The rain crudely interrupted your carefree day and it wasn’t long until it came crashing down in an aggressive downpour. Still giggling like kids, Billy tugged your hand back to the car as you made a pointless attempt to shield yourselves from the rain with your arms.

Once safe in the car, both of you looked at each other and erupted into more giggles. Billy’s hair was soaked and plastered to his face. His sunglasses that you were sporting were dotted with water droplets and steamed up, impairing your vision. He smirked and pulled them off your face.

It was like looking into the face of an angel. The laughter stopped and his lips parted slightly, gently caressing your soft and wet cheek with his thumb. He swallowed thickly, taking in the celestial being before him and respected your divinity by giving you a look of upmost adoration.

“What?” You had chuckled at Billy’s sudden intensity.

“I just fucking love you.” He answered with a whisper, staring at your lips.

“I love you too.”

Both of his hands had found their way to your cheeks, pulling you in softly and kissing you intently. Your hands tangled in his damp hair and tugged a little, causing him to whine and deepen the kiss. The rain outside battered against the car like an attack but you both were safe inside, sheltered against the brutal weather together.

When you pulled back, your foreheads met and you both caught your breath back. His thumb returned to your cheek and continued its worshipping caress along your cheekbone. You stared into his eyes knowing it would make him sheepish. Your success was confirmed as he dipped his head to avert your gaze and he chuckled to himself.

“Me and you are forever. I’ll never leave you.” He had said and put his sunglasses back on your lap. It was a promise he’d fully intended to keep.

Without any evidence to the contrary, all you’d been left with was an evening wasted watching the window and his sunglasses that lay on your floor taunting you. You lifted your leg up and brought it down with an extreme force, which split the glasses in half between the lenses and made a sickening crack sound.

You flopped helplessly to the floor at the side of your bed. Your body shook with violent sobs and you hauled your knees close to your chest. Convulsing physically, emotionally and mentally; you had wondered how the Billy who had once looked at you like you were God could now make you feel this weak and unwanted.

I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy I'm tired of driving 'til I see stars in my eyes All I've got to keep myself sane, baby So I just ride, I just ride

Unbeknownst to him how, Billy managed to pull himself away from the monster the second he was given an ounce of leeway. He clumsily tripped over and pulled himself back up again, running with as much force as his large limbs would allow.

He frantically got into his car and sped off in the opposite direction of your house, plagued with the disturbing visions of what had just happened to him. He drove with a different type of desperation than before as the terror sunk in deeper and deeper, taking a hold of his lungs and making him gasp for air.

On the side of the road, he spotted a lit up telephone box like an oasis in the desert. Surely, he would be able to procure himself some safety if he’d be able to just alert someone to the dreadful events he’d just endured.

Billy stopped the car and charged towards the box, grabbing the phone from its hook and dialling in the numbers with incredible urgency.

The only sound he could hear when he pressed the phone to his ear was his own ragged breathing and the banal ringing. When the voice asked “911, what’s your emergency?”, Billy couldn’t help but relive his trauma from mere moments ago.

He’d been dragged down into a basement full of squeaking rats. He had suffered a large tentacle spreading across his face and suctioning on his life source. Despite Billy’s shrieking and flailing, the monster only stopped when it had taken from him what it wanted and replaced in him the tools that it needed for its grand purpose.

Billy came to the horrifying realisation that no one was going to believe him and slowly dropped the phone. The lights in the box above him flickered, ready for his next round of torment.

He emerged from the telephone box into a Hawkins that was dark and unruly. Dust mites swirled round in the air and a deep fog settled over what was once a clear night sky. Thunder crashed and red lightning danced, creating a source of light that had been deprived from the streetlights.

Billy stumbled forwards, coming across a group of people making his way towards him. He asked them with distrust and fear in his voice; “what do you want?”

When they didn’t answer, he mustered up as much confidence as he could and demanded; “hey, I said what do you want?!”

He continued to head towards them, determined to understand this mob and their intentions. After his ordeal, he was struggling with what resolve he had left to defend himself.

Meeting him halfway was an exact replica of himself, only without the gore and dirt on his body that Billy had from the monster attack. A clean and fresh version stared back at him like a reflection. It made his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“What do you want?!” Billy asked again, agonised over the silence and the unknown.

“To build.” His doppelganger responded in a voice that wasn’t his. “I want you to build.”

“To build what?”

“What you see.”

“I don’t understand.” Billy said but was transported back to the Hawkins he knew. The open road stretched out in front of him with no mob in sight. The streetlights were switched back on; the thunder and lightning stopped. He was alone.

“I don’t understand!” He yelled again yet made his way back to his car.

Billy started to drive with a new divine purpose. With no specified destination, he drove down the open and empty road, trying to understand and piece together what his mission was to be for his new God.

A tiny piece of him tried to scream that there was a reason he’d gotten into his car that night and that she was now sobbing into her pillow, willing herself to try and sleep so that she might escape the pain of rejection. This voice was quickly silenced by Billy’s new sacred assignment, which was about to take priority over anything else.

Billy continued his journey, driving miles away from the direction of your house, and from you.

I've got a war in my mind I just ride Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

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