#argyle x reader fluff

[jvblood]

sneaking out

pairing: argyle x byers!reader

wordcount: 1.4K

summary: Usually Argyle comes late at night to sneak Jonathan out to smoke, but tonight he knocks on your window.

WARNINGS: just cussing <3

a/n: i literally was smiling throughout writing this while things to the point where my cheeks hurt :/. I hate being delusional. Also, I don't really know how fluff works so if this gets your feet kicking, let me know.

Ever since you and your family moved to California, you’ve always had each other. If someone needed help in a subject, you guys would confide in eachother. Jonathan though was the successful one and actually made a friend. Argyle. You thought he was super nice and honestly wanted to get to know him more. Yet, those two were inseparable sometimes. The only time you didn’t see him is when it was time for bed. Yet, in the morning you knew they were together at night when Jonathan would wake up smelling like pot. Poor Will had to wake up to Jonathan sneaking back in yet again. 

Except for tonight, Argyle knocked on your window. El fortunately didn’t hear it. You were up studying for some test you had on Monday. You walked up to the window opening it, coming face to face with him. 

“Hi.” He whispers, he looks nervous. Argyle was just staring you down not knowing where to go from here. 

“You know Jonathan’s room is the other window right?” You as you mindlessly point to whichever side it is. 

“I’m not here for Jonathan, dude.” He says rubbing his hands together. This whole encounter is starting to get weird. You cocked your head to the side like a bird waiting for an answer.

“I want to take you out.” He mumbles. This was surprising to say the least. You beam to the thought of him coming all this way for you. You look at El, sleeping in her bed. Then it hit you. 

“I’m still in my pjs though!” 

“Dude, don’t worry about it. We’re probably gonna pick up something to eat and then just chill.” He reassures. 

“But–”

“Don’t. Worry.” He says putting a hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down from this 

“Give me a second.” You tell him, you went to grab your bag filled with essentials and turned off the lamp light. Argyle was patiently waiting for you on the other side of the window. You reach the window and stealthily go through, hoping to not make much noise. He helps you as much as he can. Once out you straighten yourself up, patting down any sort of dust off of your sweat pants. Argyle watches you swat the dust off and waits for you. 

“Let’s go, dude!”

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

If there is one thing about Argyle, it’s that he’s true to his word. The two of you went to go pick up some greasy burgers and as soon as you guys got your food, he took you to a beautiful scenery. It was in the mountains, watching over the little town of Lenora. It was breathtaking. The two of you sat in comfortable silence watching the streets from a far. The van side door was open, allowing the two of you to sit next to each other to watch the tiny town.

“Argyle,” You say, taking a sip from your drink, “what was the purpose of all of this?” 

“What? I can’t hang with my favorite Byers?” He says, giving you a little push. “Favorite? Yeah, right.” You give a little chuckle to show your amusement. 

“Yeah, my favorite!” 

“Argyle, you barely know me.” 

“This is me trying to get to know more of you, man.” He says as he tosses his wrapper in the car. “Is it working?” He asks, drinking the rest of his drink. 

“Well, tell me. What do you know about me?” You say putting down your cup and face towards him. 

“Well, I know that you have a family—”

“Really? Do I!” You kid.

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” he says as he playfully pushes you again “, as I was saying, before I was interrupted. You have a family, a kind one. The kind of family that will take anyone in, no matter the situation. You love your family too. It’s like a little creepy how far you would go for your family. Like this one time, Jonathan told me this story about how you fought some sorta dog with this one dude to protect something, I don’t really remember.” 

“To be fair, that wasn’t a normal dog!” You quickly shout. 

“Yeah, okay, well someone should get PETA on you, asap.” He huffs. It was your turn to playfully slap him. 

“Hey, man. I’m just saying! If I heard you, dog, and bat in the same sentence, obviously I’m gonna be worried. That’s like grade-a psycho behavior.” 

“So, I’m a psycho too?” 

“Dude.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry– I’ll stop with the accusations.” You say pulling your hands up. 

“Good! Okay, back to what I was saying! You have this sorta at-home vibe.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” You say tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Well, when I’m with you, I feel calm. Like I’m at home.” He says, turning towards you. The air around the two of you feels euphoric. It’s calm and sweet and you honestly had your breath taken away. 

“Or something like that, I don’t know. It’s just an observation or something like that, I think.” Argyle stutters out. You smile from ear to ear, watching Argyle trying to play it off. 

“Well, can I tell you what I think about you?” You say placing your hand over his. Argyle looks down at the hand touch and nods. 

“I think you're super sweet. I’m happy my brother got to meet such a nice guy and I’m happy that our family was able to make you feel comfortable. I also love your hair, by the way. It’s like super pretty and each time I see you i just want to play with it but, like, I obviously stop myself because that’s an invasion of privacy and I totally understand–”

“You can play with it, I don’t mind.” He cuts you off. You smile up to him and blush a bit.

“I also think that you're hilarious. I hate to say it but your dumb jokes always put a smile on my face. Ugh– it’s so dumb sometimes!” You say covering your eyes, thinking about the stupid fart joke he cracked.

“Hey, my jokes are not dumb! They’re perfect!”

“Yeah, perfectly stupid.” You laugh out loud. Argyle sits there, showing how his ‘feelings are hurt’.

“This sucks, I come over to try to give you a good night and I’m getting bullied. You know what, Will might be my favorite now.” He says crossing his arms trying to not let the smile on his face show even more. 

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” you say grabbing your side “, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, it just came out.” You’re hunched over trying to breathe, that’s when Argyle takes you by surprise. 

“I also think you look pretty.” He whispers. For some reason, he thought he said that in his head but it came out by surprise. You blush at the comment and look up at him. 

“What?” You say smirking. 

“I said you look shitty.” He blurts out. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, that one sends you over. You're gasping for air trying to breathe from laughing. You could even feel tears forming. Argyle watches you laugh and decides to join in. 

“God, I fucked up big time, didn’t I?” He asks as the two of you finally calmed down. 

“Fucked up, majorly. It’s okay, though, it’s sweet.” You say wiping a tear or two. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you look shitty too.” 

“It makes me feel amazing.” 

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

As the night finally came to an end, Argyle finally took you back home. As you reached your window, you turned back to him. The cold chilly air surrounds the two of you so you need to get this out of the way. He helped you climb back through the window and waited for you to be comfortable. 

“Thank you for the night, Argyle.” You whisper, holding yourself to get a bit warmer. A rush of confidence fills your veins and you kiss his cheek. Argyle stays there completely still like a board. “Get home safe, Argyle.” You say as you finally close the window. 

“Yeah, of course, I’ll get home safe. I’ll get home super safe, you don’t have to worry about me.” He stutters as he watches you close the window. Through the closed window you wave him goodbye and he finally makes his way back to his van with a smile that won’t leave his face until he’s knocked out. As you watch him leave, you hear the lamp light click. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

Your eyes wide open as you turn around to see your mom sitting next to a very worried El.

#argyle x reader #argyle fluff #stranger things argyle #argyle #argyle fan fic #argyle fan fiction #argyle x reader fluff #byers!reader #i hope you all like this <3 #jvblood

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Friends?

Pairing: Argyle x GN!Reader

Summary: Whilst high, you find yourself admitting things to your friend Argyle that surprised you both.

Warnings: Use of weed, kissing whilst high, fluff, friends to lovers(?)

A/N: So I've been thinking of writing an Argyle fic for a while now but this ask prompted me to finally do it and write this. Hope you like it! <3

Also, this is my first time writing for Argyle so if it's not completely character accurate then I apologise. :)

You couldn't help the sudden emotion that bubbled up your throat as you stared up at your friend Argyle, his cap slightly crooked on top of his head as he set the joint you were sharing down in the ashtray.

"Dude...what's with the waterworks?" He asked, turning to face you with a look of concern clouding his eyes.

You hadn't even realised you were crying, but when you lifted your hands to your face to find your cheeks wet, it became evident that you were, in fact, crying.

You shrugged, releasing a heavy sigh as you leaned into him. "I really like you ya know?"

He offered you a lazy smile. "I like you too."

"No, but...I like you...like, really." You weren't entirely sure what you were trying to get across exactly, but you continued regardless of this. "Like...I think...I'd like to kiss you...ya know?"

Argyle's eyes turned wide then as he stared down at you. "Woah." He muttered, surprise evident in his features.

Silence pressed in over you both then as you continued to stare at each other, Argyle's eyes still wide, his mouth slightly agape. Oh, how you wanted to put your lips on that mouth.

Not a single word was passed between you both as you sat quietly, contemplating your next move. He hadn't yet informed you of his stance on this, but you could feel yourself slowly losing any ounce of self control you had. Maybe it was just the weed, but you knew for a fact that right now, all you wanted to do was kiss him.

So you waited a moment, taking a sharp inhale, before leaning closer to him, the silence between you suddenly becoming incredibly heavy as you inched closer.

You noticed his bottom lip quivering slightly as he focused in on your mouth, his body clearly tense as he waited for you to connect your lips with his.

And when you finally pressed your lips against his, your whole body seemed to come alight, a fire igniting over your skin. Your hands wandered up to his face, your fingers dancing over his cheek as you leaned further into him.

He seemed to be relaxing into the kiss now, his hands gliding around your waist to rest on the small of your back, until he finally pulled you to straddle his lap, your bodies melting together as you continued to desperately mesh your lips together.

In all the time that you'd known Argyle, you'd never once expected that you'd ever be in such a situation as this with him, your mouths molded together as you breathed each other in. He was your friend, and you thought that was what he would always be. Maybe he was still just your friend even now.

But either way, the reality of what was happening between you two seemed to fill you with excitement, your lips pulling up into a smile against his mouth. And then before you could stop yourself, you were giggling into his lips.

He pulled back then, a dumb grin on his face as he stared up at you. "What's funny?"

You shook your head, your smile so wide now your jaw was beginning to ache. "Nothing, I just...I really like you, ya know?"

"I like you too."

[Main Masterlist] [Argyle Masterlist]

#argyle stranger things #argyle #argyle x gn!reader #argyle x reader #argyle x reader oneshot #argyle oneshot #argyle x reader fluff #argyle fluff #argyle fanfic #argyle x reader friends to lovers #argyle x reader imagine #argyle fic #stranger things argyle #eduardo franco #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #stranger things oneshot

[dearharriet]

I Want Your Video; Steve Harrington x Reader 📼

summary: steve always takes care of you on a night out.

word count: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, fem!reader, fluff

a/n: inspired by a djo song with the same title. i’m such a sucker for steve <3

“I ‘ave to go t’the bathrooom,” you tell Steve, holding tight to the hot skin of his bicep. In a drunken stupor, your thumb swipes sweetly over it once, unable to resist.

His other arm, the one you’re not holding to, has your clutch tucked under it. It’s unclear if he’s being gentlemanly or if he’s monitoring your intake. He certainly didn’t take Nancy’s or Robin’s. Or Argyle’s belly bag.

“‘Kay, be safe,” Steve says, patting your elbow. He looks a touch hot, red-cheeked and a little damp around the edges. Dancing must’ve made a mess of you if he looks so disheveled from just standing and talking. You furrow your brows.

“Come with me?” Pouting, your grip slides down to take his hand, but he pulls away.

“Uh—maybe Nance or Rob should do that.”

He says it like such a request is verboten. You look back towards Nance and Robin, relentlessly moving on the dance floor.

“They won’t go with meeee—“ you whine, and then simper when he sighs in defeat.

Steve steers you toward the stairwell that leads down to the toilets. While you weave through the crowds, he stays behind you, a steadying force at your back.

The stairwell is much cooler than the bar. It’s a relief to suck in air that’s not muggy with sweat and beer. At the bottom of the dingey stairs a couple is draped over one another talking closely, and nearer to the bathroom there’s a trio of people sharing a smoke and waiting. Steve and you take up residence just next to them. The concrete wall is cooling on your hot back and it elicits a sigh.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, facing you with his arms crossed and a shoulder leant on the wall. Your clutch is shoved in his front pocket like a miniature Bible.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with exaggerated windedness. “Wish you’d dance with me, though.”

The bathroom door clicks open and a guy comes out, nodding awkwardly at all seven heads turned his way. The queue dwindles to three again—plus Steve, who is smiling at you apologetically.

“Nah, you wouldn’t wanna see me dance. I tend to intimidate people with how skilled I am.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Ohhh, right,” you nod. “Must be hard, having all that talent. And you’re s’busy keepin’ me sober.” You speak so fast the words slur on the way out, and Steve chuckles teasingly.

“I’m doin’ a shit job, aren’t I? You’re in a state already.” He reaches out and brushes your arm when he says this, his knuckles leaving goosebumps behind them. When he pulls his hand back he’s grown more sincere. “Who said I’m keeping you sober? I’ve let you drink all you want.”

“You let me,” you tease, “But you’re keeping my wallet. And you’ve been watching me all night.”

“Yeah, well.” He looks defensive. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bathroom door opens again, and the line shrinks even more. You pick the conversation right back up.

“What ‘bout Nance and Rob? And the guys?” Turning toward Steve, your arms cross so you’re mirroring him. “They’ve all got their wallets.”

“They’ve got each other, too.” Steve playfully swings at your shoulder, and you take the hit willingly. “Who’s got you, huh, rockstar?”

A smile splits your face with glee at the nickname. You step closer and you’re about to answer—you, you’ve got me—when Steve clears his throat.

You frown, and Steve smiles, juts his chin toward the bathroom door. It’s empty, you realize, and Steve and you are alone. It seems the third member of the bathroom trio was only company, like Steve.

“You know what to do,” Steve mutters, and you reluctantly peel away from the wall.

“Oh, wait!” You whip around and offer a hand out for your wallet. Steve gives it over wordlessly, and then you’re locking the door behind you.

As suspected, you look a mess. Your hair is frizzed and a touch tangled. Dark mauve eyeliner has smoked itself out—all over your undereye—and your cheeks are red and dampened with sweat.

Despite it all, you feel good. You brought your clutch so you could touch up your lipstick, and you do, but you don’t need to. It’s almost like what Steve said; You’re a rockstar. You look like one, anyway.

After washing your hands, the only thing you do to your appearance is fluff your hair up even more, playing up this smudged version of your original look.

It feels impossibly easy to grin at Steve once you emerge from the bathroom. Steve laughs.

“Why do I feel like you got more drunk while you were in there?”

You tighten your smile primly. “Not drunker, just better looking.”

Steve pulls his brows together almost painfully, his features unreadable. You saunter over to him anyways, stepping into his bubble. His full back is pressed to the wall now, a leg kicked up, and you’re as close as you can get without being thigh-to-knee. Steve’s nervous eyes scan you.

“Want me to take that?” Steve points to your clutch. You nod, but ignore the hand he has waiting for you. Feeling bold, you reach around him and tuck it into his back pocket. Your chests meet, and then crush closer as you both gasp. Pulling away feels suddenly impossible, so you don't, and Steve doesn’t make you. He licks his lips.

“Y’didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles, but your brain jumbles as his hand smooths over your ribs.

“Hmm?” You can’t be bothered with words, feeling more intoxicated by his touch than the three drinks in your system.

Steve rubs a small circle over your side. “The bathroom door,” he says softly, “it stayed on vacant the whole time.”

Oh, yeah. It had. Your mouth pops open, and then you shoot him a wry grin.

“Whoops.”

Steve’s responding head shake is exasperated but fond.

“You trust me too much,” he sighs.

It’s not a joke. A string of insecurity holds the sentence together, and you know what it is. It’s easy to see that he knows, too. Moving closer, committing to the embrace you’ve found yourself in, you pin Steve with a sincere stare.

“Do I?” It’s excessively rhetorical, stilling any rebuttal he has. Steve purses his lips together, and then glances at yours. You toe up ever so slightly, in anticipation. Both of Steve’s hands are on you now, though they’re holding your arms, keeping you at bay.

“We can’t,” Steve whispers, glancing at the stairwell, and you realize the bar is still upstairs with all of your friends. They’d probably come looking soon, vying for another round, another dance. You look to the stairwell too, and then to the other side of the hall, and back to Steve.

“Yet here we are.” The murmur is sultry, luring Steve closer, tempting his hand to wind into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

“Here we are,” Steve repeats, and then your lips are abruptly too occupied by his to respond.

Steve’s hand that’s not gripping your neck winds over your shoulders, keeping you close. His nose crushes to your cheek as he drags his mouth over yours again and again.

A part of you—the same part that’s observing how good of a kisser he is—can’t believe you’re mouth to mouth with the Steve Harrington from high school. The other half, probably the truer half, knows it’s been a long time coming. Years of patching up and skirting around each other, protecting each other because you had to, and now taking care of each other because you wanted to. Because no one else would.

When you separate, you’re both breathless and effervescent. Steve is staring at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, his thumb caressing the rosy apple of your cheek. Steve has a way of marrying sincerity and charm, and it needles at your heart ruthlessly.

You beam and kiss him again as a thank you.

“Think you might be glowing,” he continues, speaking right into your mouth. His teeth clack against yours as the kiss grows too smiley for its own good.

“You look pretty, too,” you goad, tracing his lips. “Cherry’s a good look on you.”

Steve pinches his brow and then notices your smeared lipstick.

“Aw, come on.”

You laugh and help him wipe it off, but when you return to the bar later, Argyle still complements Steve’s beautiful makeup.

+

thank you for reading ! my requests are open :)

masterlist

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve Harrington x you #steve Harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem #Steve Harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve the hair harrington #stranger things #argyle #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #king steve

[queenimmadolla]

Hey, me again! Sorry to bother you but I wondering if I can send a request about my favourite family (but of course remember to take the time you need to write this or completely ignore this request if you don't like it)? I was thinking about the reader coming back home from an afternoon with the other girls and once she comes back, she sees the most adorable scenario she has ever seen. Eddie and the other boys sitting on the tiniest chairs ever, wearing tiaras, make up, fake earrings, playing having tea with Penny and her stuffed animals. Idk, I thought it was cute😅

But Again, feel free to ignore this request if you don't want to write it. Thank you and I hope you have a nice day❤️

this was such a cute request for them and i enjoyed every single second of writing it. i hope i did it justice and i hope you enjoy!

𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

(girl dad!eddie munson x mom!reader/pregnant!reader)

warnings: imagery of men in terrible makeup and mentions of pregnancy (reader is pregnant) more penny, eddie and reader (and baby wayne) adventures here :)

If someone were to have told younger you, you’d be a mom before you were the age of 21, you probably would have punched them in the face, strictly because of the implication and the jinxing. While having a baby was something you entertained after seeing a particularly cute one out in the world or something, you weren’t overly fond of the idea of raising a tiny human with someone or even on your own. You considered yourself much too selfish for that. 

  …However, if someone were to have told you you’d have Eddie Munson’s–one of three local freaks and town urban legend in the making—babies, you probably would have given them the keys to your car and maybe the deed to your parents’ home.

  Your crush on the metal head had a lasting effect on you. When you’d actually begun dating him, falling head over ass in love, being with him was all that mattered to you and it didn’t feel pathetic because it was all he wanted, too. 

  Immediately after graduation came marriage and then Penny, your cute little Oopsie as Eddie referred to her when she was in your tummy. You preferred it over his original nickname for her, which was Creampie, seeing as how he was sure that was how she’d been conceived. You forced him to change it.

  Of course, since you had said baby with another on the way, you had to provide for them. Eddie had already been employed at an autoshop—his skill with the mechanics of a car was probably what led to Penny’s conception, you just couldn’t help yourself when faced with Grease Monkey Eddie—and Eden got you a job with her at her father’s firm as his partner’s receptionist.

  It worked out pretty well, Eden didn’t have a car so you’d pick her up before work since she’d rather jump off her roof than drive with her dad, who was also her boss, then afterwards you’d drive back to the trailer where Eddie and Argyle would be waiting for the two of you (if Argyle wasn’t off, she’d chill with your little family until he came to get her because she didn’t want to go home and you couldn’t blame her).

  Normally, your job wasn’t super stressful, you’d just been exhausted lately, though you didn’t exert yourself (Eddie would never allow it). 

  Today you had felt every agonizing second of the work day, it had been so slow. You’d done all the filing, made all the copies, called all the people, there just hadn’t been as much going on as usual and after you’d managed to make it to lunch time, the last half of your shift was spent staring across the room at Eden, both of you blinking owlishly at each other, staring contests, trying to get paper airplanes to reach the other, anything to stave off the boredom. Suddenly, you couldn’t wait til you could take maternity leave. 

  After work, you’d both practically sprinted to your car, the ride was spent bitching about the work day. The closer you got to your home, the more life you felt began to fill you; energy the work day had sucked away returning to you at the notion of seeing Eddie and Penny.

  If you had known exactly what you’d be walking into, you may have transcended into a higher level of joy.

  You and Eden were still chatting as you shut your car doors, still shedding the weight of the work day. She’d been talking about moving in with Argyle, something she was desperate to do but her parents were still hesitant about when you unlocked the front door, pushing it open for her.

  Eden had walked through the doorway and stopped, causing you to run into her back. 

  “What’s the hold up?” You asked, peering around her shorter frame. The sight made you gasp.

  “Hi, honey!” Eddie greeted you, grin so wide it almost looked like it hurt.

  Eddie, Argyle and Jonathan—always dragged around with Argyle—were crouched in tiny pink plastic chairs (much too small for them to actually allow their weight to rest in, lest they break them) around the small table in the living room, which was cluttered with various kitchen utensils and Penny’s pink tea set. 

  Not an unusual sight, since they always indulge your three year old. What was new was the bright colors adorning their faces.

  Eddie had on bright purple eyeshadow (complete with poorly replicated wings of eyeliner), cheeks powdered with an even brighter pink and lips coated in a deep shade of red lipstick, meticulously applied judging by the precision. Pink clip-on earrings dangled from his lobes and around his waist was one of Penny's pink tutus—stretched to its limit.

  Argyle’s long dark locks were in two high, messy ponytails. His eyes were decorated with a blue eyeshadow (ruined with various marks and stains of mascara), cheeks powdered bright red and lips a coral orange. His tutu was purple and his earrings were red.

  But Jonathan…oh, Jonathan. His eyeshadow was pink, cheeks pink, and lipstick a bright red. Penny was always more gentle with Jonathan, for some reason. His makeup didn’t look as messily applied as the majority of Argyle’s and Eddie’s. Unlike with them, Penny had attempted to draw on eyelashes for him, and he had smatterings of glitter sporadically around his face. Not only did he have one of her pink tutus and green earrings, he also got the privilege of wearing her favorite pair of fairy wings.

  He refused to make eye contact with you, staring into the tiny, plastic tea cup clenched in his hand.

  “Hi, babe. What happened here?” You asked, hand moving to hide your smile, though you were pretty sure it was obvious. Penny—dressed in her pink princess dress and a purple feather boa, pretty little face also covered in makeup with a plastic crown carefully placed on her head to make sure her curls didn’t get tangled in the combs of it (Eddie had to have put it on her)—returned from the hallway closet where her toy box was located, arms full of her stuffed animals, all of which she dropped the moment she saw you.

  “Mommy!” She squealed and you squatted down to allow her to run into your arms as Eden stepped out of the way and disappeared into your room. “LOOK, MOMMY! I made daddy and unca Ahgle and unca Johnny puddy!”

  “Uh huh,” was all you could say without laughing. 

  “We awe having a tea pa’ty.” Penny informed you after she’d unwound her arms from around you, giving your baby bump a gentle pat before she ran back over to scoop up her stuffies. They were placed in the other empty plastic chairs surrounding the table and actually looked like they fit in the tiny seats, unlike the grown men.

  “Do you think I’m pretty, mama?” Eddie asked, batting his eyelashes at you with his red lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. Eddie was no stranger to makeup, you’d done his eyeliner for gigs plenty of times and he could now do it on his own, but that only involved lining his waterline and tightlining, not wings. 

  He and Jonathan had silently stared at themselves in the bedroom mirror, self reflecting on how they got themselves in this position, for longer than either of them would care to admit. But Eddie would do anything for Penny and he knew you would get a crack out of seeing him like this.

  Argyle was too high (it was a perpetual thing at this point, he’d been stuck in a high since back in high school) to care, although he’d wanted his ponytails braided and Penny wouldn’t allow it.

  “I think you’re something,” You offered through your giggles and Eddie chuckled along with you, stopping only when a flash of bright light momentarily lit up the room and blinded him. 

  Eden lowered the Polaroid camera she’d retrieved from your room, plucking the picture that whirled out. 

  She shook it briefly and examined the developing photo with a careful eye before she smirked. 

  “Oh, this is a good one. I gotta make a copy of this for Nance.” 

  Jonathan stood up then, kind of. His butt was still stuck in the tiny chair so it went with him. “Eden, give me the photo.”

  Eden took that as her cue to take another one, cackling as she grabbed the film. 

  Jonathan began to advance. 

  “Eden—I mean it, give me the pictures—EDEN!” He shouted as she bolted out of the front door. He ran (as best as he could with a tiny chair attached to his ass) after her with Argyle following him to play instigator. 

  “Run, baby, run!” Then when he realized he’d be in both pictures as well, “GET HER, JONATHAN!”

  Eddie was howling with laughter, causing Penny to join in even though she hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on. Once he calmed down, he stood up from his chair, pulling the thing off of his hips, he moved it to the side and sat on the carpet, patting the spot between his legs to beckon you over. 

  You set your bag on the counter and went over to join them, settling between his legs as you leaned back into his chest with his encouragement for cuddles. Eddie pressed a kiss to your forehead, no doubt leaving a kiss stain as Penny set a little tea cup on a plastic plate down in front of you.

  “He’we you go, mama.” 

  “Oh, thank you, Penny!” You lifted the teacup by its tiny handle and pretended to take a sip. “That’s very good!”

  “Yes,” she stated, pleased and already distracted with arranging her stuffed animals in their seats.

  “Long day?” Eddie asked, mumbling against the side of your head as he continued to press kisses wherever his lips could reach. He’d clocked the lingering bits of tension and stress on you the moment you’d walked into the trailer, he also swore he had a sixth sense tied to you somehow, because he could always tell when something was wrong. He’d get bouts of anxiety at work and come home to find out you’d had a terrible day, so he’d taken to just calling you when the feeling popped up. 

  He hadn’t been wrong yet.

  “Yeah,” You sighed, turning onto your side as you burrowed further into Eddie and the soft shirt he wore. “It’s better now, though.”

  He hummed as you lifted your head, lips puckered.  With a grin, he closed the small distance, giving you your ‘welcome home’ kiss.

  “Awww!”

  You broke away, the two of you smiling as your attention was drawn to your daughter, who looked shy and had a small smile of her own as she wrung her little hands together.

  “You kissed.” 

  Eddie chuckled, chest shaking against you. 

  “We’ve kissed before, baby.” He pointed out. She’d witnessed you exchange thousands of (appropriate) kisses in front of her but lately she’d been cooing every time Eddie showed you affection. You thought she may like seeing you two love each other like the couples in the cartoons she watched.

  “Yes.” She giggled into her little palms, shoulders rising as she became even more bashful.

  You shook your head in amusement, raising a hand to rest your chin in, thumb absentmindedly stroking over your lower lip. You were surprised to see a shade of red over the skin of your thumb, considering you’d worn a nude shade of lipstick.

  Oh. Eddie’s lipstick. Right.

  Then you got to thinking about it, the gears in your head turning as your eyebrows furrowed. 

  “Eddie?”

  “Yes?” 

  “Where’d you get this makeup?”

  Eddie and Penny exchanged nervous glances and there was a long pause in between your question and his answer, deciding to try to get out of this like his daughter often tried to.

  “Yes.”

  “Eddie, is this my makeup?!”

  “Baby, I have to go pee, can you move real quick?”

  “You’re not getting away, answer the question!”

  Yes. It was your makeup.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #dilf!eddie munson #dilf!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #girl dad!eddie munson x reader #girl dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #pennyverse #pennyverse asks #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #eden bingham #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things vol 2 #stranger things fanction #stranger things fanfic #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader

[drewharrisonwriter]

You can't tell me Henry's latest selfie isn't giving us Hank from Donor.

In case you're wondering what the fuck I'm talking about lol I wrote an HC fic last year. It ain't great, but somehow satisfied my deluluness. LOL Oh yeah, it's called Donor.

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x little!reader #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill x pregnant reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #hcavilledit #henrycavilledit #henry cavill fanfic #argylle press

[mydearzero]

argyle smut

Thanks for the request and input, definitely enjoyed writing this while listening to your dog bark my ears off <3 <3

Hit It | Argyle x Reader

MASTERLIST

Summary: Argyle loves fucking you in the back of his van

Body worship, protected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (f rec), smoking weed, female reader, inexperienced!argyle

1.4K words

18+ MINORS DNI

You weren't above fucking in a van. You weren't above fucking surrounded by empty pizza boxes, with the smell of pepperoni and weed lingering in the air. What you were above, however, was fucking Argyle with his choice to wear two high pigtails on the top of his head. "Stop! You look insane!" You shrieked as you laughed. 

Argyle gave a light chuckle and took the hair ties out. "Bummer, dude. I was totally going for this whole schoolgirl look the guys seem to dig." He took a hit of his blunt, the stump nearly going out. 

"Last hit for her majesty?" He turned it to you. You smiled broadly and took it from him, putting it between your lips and inhaling sharply, laying back and leaning on your elbow. The blunt burnt up, so you put it out and threw it away. 

Argyle turned to you lying on the blanket, putting his hat on the icebox beside you. He bent over you to give a quick peck to your nose, his hair clouding your vision. 

"Sorry 'bout that." He chuckled and shifted to put it up. He did it with such ease he made your hair skills look like amateur hour. The bun he ended up with was chaotic— but a huge improvement from the double pigtail look.

You weren't exactly sure how this arrangement with Argyle even came to be. You moved to Cali and became friends with Jonathan, who, in turn, introduced you to Argyle. He gave you your first weed, you gave him his first sex. It just worked.

Argyle was a generous lover. Perhaps a little inexperienced, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and eagerness. He worshipped the ground you walked on— cherished every part of your body. At times, he would just run his hands all over you while smiling to himself. 

After an incident where you'd laid on his hair and almost snapped his neck, you started carrying extra hair ties so he could put it up when things got heated. 

Argyle took his time taking off your bottoms, wondering at your thighs and legs as he did so. He kissed your left leg from ankle to just beside your pussy, before repeating the same actions on the other side. He'd developed a recent obsession with eating you out and wanting to make you cum— Not that you were complaining. 

He gave a tentative lick between your folds, making you sigh and rest your head against a pillow that was propped up by a stack of pizza boxes. He'd become quite the expert at eating pussy throughout the weeks. Whenever he got horny, he'd claim he 'Needs practice, babe' and proceed to go down on you. A great deal, really. 

He circled your clit a couple of times before pushing his tongue inside, fucking you slowly. The music playing in the background was mellow. You loved how hanging with Argyle was always so insanely relaxing. Your hands made their way into his luscious locks, the only time you were allowed to do so being while he ate you out. You gave an encouraging tug when his fingers joined his tongue in giving you pleasure. 

"Argyle... Fuck" you moaned as he sped up, bringing you close to your release. You could feel him smile against your pussy. He just loved making you cum so, so very much. He loved watching your face as he felt your pussy clench around his tongue and fingers. Loved listening to your moans of bliss and shouts of his name as he sent you over the edge. 

Your chest heaved when you finally came down from your high, looking down to watch Argyle with that satisfied grin he only gets at times like these. "Bodacious, dude." He nodded. How he managed to stay so casual during your encounters was a miracle in itself. It was just so... So Argyle. 

He shuffled around the van for a bit, letting you catch your breath. He muttered to himself for a bit, but finally lit up and rummaged through the glove box. He fished a strip of condoms out of it and held them up to show them to you. "Safety first, amiga." 

You giggled at his proud smile, something you seemed to do often around him. He ripped one off and proceeded to shimmy out of his pants. He put on the condom, still struggling to get it right. You sat up on your knees, helping him out. You held the tip of the condom and looked up to catch his gaze when you rolled it down. 

Turned on Argyle might just be your favourite Argyle. He seemed to have this distinct level of sobriety that came with his arousal, only amplified by his high. He really lived in the moment, enjoying every single second. 

You laid back again and allowed him to position himself on top of you. You smiled as a few strands of hair escaped from the bun, tickling your skin. Argyle didn't seem to notice, too entranced with your figure beneath him. 

"You're a goddess, man." He told you matter-of-factly as he bent down to leave kisses all over your body. He positioned the head of his cock at your entrance and slowly inched himself inside, relishing in the feeling. 

Yes, this was definitely your favourite Argyle. Oblivious to the world around him, enchanted by the feeling of your pussy engulfing his dick. Completely fucked out the second he got inside of you. 

He started moving, thrusting in the exact rhythm and force he knew you enjoyed. You'd never fucked anybody as obsessed with making their partner come as Argyle. It was half the fun for him, seeing you enjoy yourself on his cock. 

And enjoy, you did. His fingers made their way back to your clit, still sensitive from your first orgasm. He rubbed in sync with his thrusts, watching you writhe at the feeling and smiling. The cooler next to you provided the perfect temperature in the California heat. 

The thrusts of his dick matched with the sound of his balls slapping against your skin mixed with the music so well that you were almost convinced he'd made a sex mixtape for the very purpose of fucking you in his van. 

Argyle was vocal during sex, telling you how beautiful you were over and over as he lost himself in satisfying you. You told him the same, but it never carried the same weight it did when he said it. He genuinely believed you were the eighth wonder of the world. 

The pitch of your voices increased along with the thrusts, Argyle finally seeking his own release. The rubber in his hair gave up, snapping in the middle of a particularly hard thrust. His hair cascaded down his shoulders, covering you. It tickled, but you didn't mind. He looked so pretty with his hair down, pure bliss on his face as he stilled and came. 

His fingers sped up, making you scream his name once more before your second orgasm hit you. Argyle hissed as you tightened around him, pulling out immediately out of overstimulation. He gave you another peck on your nose, pulling his hair away from your body and lying beside you in the cramped space in the back of the van. 

He removed the condom, tied it and threw it in the small trash can in the front of the van. "Oh, I totally missed, bro" he grumbled, the condom hitting the driver's seat. You chuckled at his actions as he shrugged. A problem for later. 

He rummaged around the pizza boxes, finding a cold piece that had probably been there since that afternoon. He put the slice to your mouth, allowing you to take a bite. It wasn't too bad. 

"Let's just veg out for a bit, man." He spoke up as he munched on the pizza. You nodded in agreement before smiling and turning to him, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. If you could stay like this, fucked out, enjoying pizza while still slightly high with Argyle by your side, you wouldn't change it for the world. 

#argyle x reader #argyle stranger things #argyle x fem!reader #argyle smut #argyle #argyle x you #argyle x y/n #argyle fanfiction #argyle fic #argyle fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you

[loveshotzz]

Leighanne 🦇 Steve’s goth gf. 33. Queer. She/Hers. Stranger Things fic writer. Drag queen photographer. Anxious wreck. Let’s be friends.

This blog is 18+ //blank ageless blogs will be blocked.

Requests are currently open. You can submit prompts through my ask box how ever you feel comfortable. my asks are also open if you just wanna come say hi and talk about our favorite boys. All fic recs from my faves are under the tag #ficrecs💗

Characters I write for: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, & Argyle. All fics are with a fem!reader.

Ko-Fi

Steve Harrington // Eddie Munson // Argyle

Current Fic : I guess it’s never really over

Most Popular : Whatta Man // All I Really Want Is You

[my blog is best viewed on dark mode along with the graphics for all my fics]

Copyright @loveshotzz I don’t give permission to copy, steal or post my work on any other platform or feed into any AI software. Reblogs, comments and likes are more then welcome and very much make my heart grow three sizes. Thank you for reading!

#eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #argyle #argyle x you #billy knight #billy knight x you #Spotify

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Eddie and Argyle:Hell or High Water-Operation Mary-Jane (Blurb)

Summary:On a road trip across the states two stoners come across a new furry friend.

basically based on this text post, that I couldn't very much leave alone without writing a little something for

Word Count:761

Masterlist

“Dude I am telling you, Jonathan is way into this Nancy chick. All he ever does is talk about her.” Argyle chuckled from where he was sitting beside Eddie in the driver’s seat of his van. Eddie liked Argyle. The pair had actually bonded pretty quickly after Argyle had come down to Hawkins with the rest of the Byers’ family.  

“No way man. I saw how she was with Harrington with my own eyes, there’s something going on there.” Eddie refutes with a scoff.

“Well I guess only time will tell, my friend.” Argyle smiles.

Eddie slows down as he approaches a gas station. He’d been driving for a few hours at this point and his fuel gauge was beginning to dip low.

“Gotta fill ‘er up” Eddie notes as he pulls into the station.

“Alright, I want to get out and stretch my legs anyway.” 

The pair get out of the van and Eddie begins to fill up his van from the gas pump, before heading inside to pay.

“Alright, I'm heading inside, you want anything?” Eddie shouts out to Argyle.

“Yeah, grab me a Pepsi?”

“You got it, man” Eddie smirks, flicking up finger guns.

Argyle wanders around the gas station court for a few minutes, and as he does his attention is caught by the sound of some gentle mews coming from a cardboard box just behind the station.

Peering down to look inside the box, there curled up is a tiny little kitten. Its tabby stripes are a little fuzzy and unkempt.

“Hey there little one, did someone leave you here?” Argyle asks softly as he crouches down by the box. The kitten’s tiny little ears perk up at the sound of his voice.

The kitten mews in response once more, as Argyle looks around to see if there’s anyone else around. Nope, nobody, apart from him, Eddie and the gas station attendant. 

“Alright, I got us pringles, twizzlers, snickers, a Pepsi for you, and a Dr. Pepper for me.” Eddie says lifting up a small plastic bag in the air as he makes his way out of the door.

“Shh, dude you're gonna scare her.” Argyle hushes from where he's still crouched down by the side of a cardboard box on the floor.

“Scare who?” Eddie asks.

“I've made a new friend.” Argyle answers, stepping back enough for Eddie to see the kitten.

Eddie's eyes soften on the tiny little cat. She looked so small and helpless in that big cardboard box. 

Judging by the way that there was no food or water left out for her, Eddie assumed that the people at the gas station had no idea about her. The fact that the only other thing in the box was a scraggy piece of towel, didn't fill Eddie with confidence. Whoever it was that dumped her here likely wasn't coming back for her any time soon. 

“Pick her up and let's get out of here before someone notices.” Eddie says.

“What?”

“Well we can't just leave her here, dude? What if something happens to her?”

“ Just pick her up? Like with my hands?” Argyle says, his eyebrows drawing up.

“Yeah” Eddie assures. “My uncle Wayne used to have a cat, black and white thing called Humphrey Bogart-we used to call him ‘Bogie’, so I know how to handle them, you've just got to be gentle.”

“Your uncle had a cat with a last name?” Argyle asked, turning to look at Eddie in confusion.

“Doesn’t matter. Just slip your hand under her belly, and carefully pick her up, don’t be nervous.”

“Like this?” Argyle asks, carefully picking up the tiny kitten and wrapping in the scrap of towel from the box.

“Yeah now let’s get back into the van before anyone sees us and tries to arrest us for cat-napping.” Eddie flicks his eyes around to see if there are any CCTV cameras which to his relief there’s not. It’s only a small gas station, so I guess people aren’t too worried about what goes on. It’s not like Eddie needs another offence to add to his ever-stacking list of misdemeanours.

The boys manage to successfully get back into the van and pull away without being seen, and the kitten that is comfort curled up in Argyle’s lap purrs happily as it sleeps.

“That’s it MJ, you just make yourself comfortable.” Argyle smiles.

“MJ?” 

“Yeah, Mary-Jane. MJ for short.” Argyle answers confidently. “What? She has to have a name, dude.”

Eddie chuckles. Just what every all-American road trip needs. Two stoners and a tiny kitten.

@reidsbtch @trashmouth-richie @rebelfell @reysorigins @sunnythespookyghost @penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx @onegirlmanytales @mrsjellymunson

#Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fluff #argyle stranger things #Argyle stranger things fluff #Eddie Munson x Argyle #edgyle #stranger things fanfiction #Stranger things fluff #Eddie Munson x reader #argyle x reader #Argyle 🍕

[pervertedreams]

when eddie is high he’s a bit more clingy than usual, but for the most part he’s the same same just MUCH calmer. as i’ve said he’s more upfront and flirtatious when high, he’s like that anyways he’s just more nonchalant about it in this state. he definitely think clearer when he’s buzzed, a bit more confident and brave than what he typically is. he doesn’t move much or speak much when he’s high, he’s honestly just chilling.. hard.

he definitely it taking a trip to the supermarket before he goes too, knowing all too well how he turns into a monster when he’s got the munchies. and you’re literally looking at the cart full of snacks in shock every time, cause how is he digesting this much at once and no weight gain? and he’s spread out, slump into the couch. one of his long legs draped over the two of yours, arm spread in either side of him as you lazily feed him whatever snack he’s bought. he does get a little frisky when high but for the most part he just wants to relax and eat. sometimes he gets a random energy boost but that’s just the adhd kicking in lmao.

steve on the other hand is kind of a mess when high. when it first kicks in he just has a load of questions, which no one wants to answer. “who even thought of just randomly smoking a leaf? that’s crazy no?” and he’s really looking at you in hopes you’ll reply, but you just shrug your shoulders and that’s enough for him to move on. i believe he’s a little hornball when high, but also super sleepy if that makes sense? like he just wants to fuck then rest literally. he’s nuzzled between your legs, face down on your stomach as he peppers kisses all over it. he’s reaching up to kiss you on your lips, his kiss sloppy and slow. and he’s whining into your skin because he’s so needy, hips lightly humping into the mattress beneath him.. yeah.

argyle is obviously always high, he’s never caught sober EVER. he’s honestly chill too when high, he goes with the flow of everyone else. if steve’s asking 20 questions, he’s gonna answer the best way he can. if eddie is munching down on some shitty nachos, so is he. he also has his moments too, where all he want to do is eat you out. i’m a firm believer they all love eating pussy, but argyle will do it until his jaw is sore. i think he worse than eddie to be honest. his movements are slow, but still sort of calculated, his eyes are rolling in the back of his head before closing them shut peacefully. his hair is tied up in a low bun so it’s easier to grab and push him around the way you want. the smell, the taste, of course he’s pussy drunk esp in this state. mhm

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson concept #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #argyle #steve harringtion #steve harrington smut #argyle x reader #argyle smut #argyle fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington fic #my work┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

[munson-blurbs]

Okay okay but

Argyle x single mom!Reader where he’s just this sweet goofball with her son and they become this little hippie family bye

#argyle x female reader #argyle fluff #argyle imagine #argyle x reader #argyle stranger things #argyle fanfic

[harrywavycurly]

Two Wrongs Make a Right Part 3: Scrawny

Masterlist: here

TW: Language, mentions of cheating and drug usage

Tag List: @emmyshortcake

A/N: Argyle is a bestie we all want to have…even though sometimes he makes you want to strangle him (in a nice way) @munsonsgirl71 ✨

*Argyle wishes you could be in two places at once…that would be sick*

#two wrongs make a right #eddie munson series #eddie munson social media au #texting eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson #boyfriend!eddie munson #argyle #my little dungeon master baby

[jvblood]

spring break

argyle x henderson!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: your bestfriend jonathan came back from california and he didn't come empty handed.

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+minors dni), van sex (yet again)

a/n: well heyyyyy nice to see this again huh. anyways let me know how this is. let me know if this is piss and shit. deadass though, i have been getting schmoked out and literally just freaking finished this.

“Oh my god, Jonathan!” You screamed as you looked out your window. You rushed down the stairs, pushing past your mom and brother before finally going to the door and seeing Jonathan, your best friend ever since Will and your brother, Dustin, became friends. You and Jonathan were practically losers and were always drawn together. Everyone around you two always thought that the two of you were together, that was until he started dating Nancy Wheeler. His brother's best friend’s sister. Crazy.

“I’m guessing you already saw Nance?” You ask as you pull back from the suffocating hug that the two of you were tangled in. 

“She’s in the van right now, actually,” He says pointing behind him towards the pizza van. “We’re planning to go see Steve and the others, right now.” 

“Lemme go grab some proper shoes.” He nods as you run back inside to put on some regular converses on. You go to the nearest mirror and take a quick glance. You take in your appearance for a bit and rush out the door, grabbing your wallet. 

As you finally make it to the van, the door automatically opens with a guy with long hair, who is actually holding the door open for you. He watches you as you whisper ‘hi’ towards him.

“Oh, uh, this is Argyle, by the way.” Jonathan says as he puts the van into drive. You introduce yourself in a hushed tone, pulling your hand out for him to shake. He looks at you, then at your hand and finally remembers to reach for your hand to shake. It was as if he forgot how to function. Argyle couldn’t know if you could feel if his hand was sweaty, to him it felt like it. You, on the other hand, think it’s your hand that’s sweating. For what felt like a minute of hand shaking, the two of you finally let go. 

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” You ask.

“Argyle, do not get her high.” Jonathan says before Argyle could even say anything. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, dude.” Argyle calmly states. He finally turns back to you, “I actually work at the pizza shop that owns this van. My dad owns the shop, so that’s why we got the van.” You exclaim at the fact that the van was really his. 

“How long have you been working at the shop?”

“Ever since I’ve been driving.” He states very proudly. You shrug at the response, you were one to respect the ‘grind’. The two of you were mindlessly speaking back and forth, talking about his experience at the shop and how California is and how Hawkins is and what you do.

Meanwhile, Jonathan and Nancy look at the two of you through the rearview mirror. It’s like watching two idiots falling for eachother. As the two finally look away from the rear view, they share a pointed look that you and Argyle couldn’t see. 

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ 

As Steve and Robin finally ended their shift with Eddie and Vickie waiting for them at the store, the eight of you made your way to a McDonald’s to get something to eat. Just the older kids hanging out, no kid under 17 here to try and spoil the day. Everyone goes to wait in line to order, meanwhile you try to find a table big enough for you guys to pig out on. Argyle stayed by your side as you finally found the perfect seating. There were cushioned seats along the way while the other side had seats that were attached to the floor. You sat on the cushioned side while Argyle sat across from you. 

“So,” You begin, trying to break the unknown tension, “, you’re Jonathan’s new best friend?” You begin to tease. “Well, if I’m being honest, I can’t beat the original.” He admits, shrugging his shoulders.

“Why thank you.” You say as you bring your hand to your chest, meanwhile Argyle jokingly bows. The two of you begin laughing at how stupid you might look to any body around. 

“You know, Jonathan told me alot about you.” He says. 

“I hope it was all good.” 

“Nothing but good. I sorta thought you were like his girlfriend when he first talked about you.” Argyle scratches his head, avoiding eye contact again. 

“Oh my god–No! God no, Jonathan is like a brother to me–oh my god.” You revolt at the thought of dating Jonathan. “I mean like I sound like an ass but Jonathan and me, yuck!” Argyle chuckles at your reaction and scratches his neck.

 Finally as the others finally come back to the table with either own meals, you and Argyle finally go up and order your choices. You were contemplating on what to get, Argyle though figured out what he wanted. “Can I get the..filet o’ fish meal. Please.” You scrunch your face at his choice but you weren’t really going to judge it, you were going to remember that. “What about you?” He turns to you and asks. 

“I’ll just get an order of fries and a drink please.” You say as you reach out for your wallet. Little did you know, Argyle already paid for the two of you. “Argyle you didn’t have to pay for me.” You say as you hold onto his arm, lightly. 

“Nah, don’t sweat it dude. It’s like 2 bucks.” “Yeah, two bucks I had.” You tease as you pop your hip out a bit. “And you still have it.” He says, smiling down at you. You playfully roll your eyes as you put your wallet back into your pocket.

Meanwhile, back at the table where everyone was waiting for you two.

“Okay, I’m gonna say it right now, does she like the new guy?” Robin blurts. The other six have been watching the two of you interacting this whole time. 

“Great, so I’m not the only one who sees it.” Eddie says as he picks a fry from Steve. Steve tried to swat his hand out of the way but ultimately was late. “I’ve been in a car with Argyle for like three days, I’ve never seen him act this way.” Jonathan says as he puts his drink down after taking a sip. 

“And like we’ve been with y/n for like ever and not once does she act like this.” Vickie mentions. 

“Maybe this is a good thing.” Nancy suggests, trying to see the brighter side in all of this. Everyone nods their head, agreeing meanwhile Steve is on the cusp. 

“Yeah, but she just met the dude.” Steve mentions. He has this thing where he plays older brother with anyone remotely younger than him. He doesn’t know it himself but everyone else around him can see it a mile away. 

“And what about it? What about love at first sight, Stevie.” Eddie teases. This time Steve just gives him an unamused look and shakes his head pointedly. 

“Shit, they’re coming back, pretending like nothing happened.” Robin interrupted. Everyone snaps their head in different directions, trying to play it off as if they weren’t talking about you two. Everyone except Eddie. “Welcome back, love birds.” Everyone around him, drops their heads in ‘disappointment’ and exhales the breath they were holding in. 

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ 

As everyone finally finished eating, it was time to go back to someone else’s house to hang out and let the food settle. Basically, the eight of you all were heading back to Steve’s house to chill. You, Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle make it back to the van while Steve, Eddie, Vickie and Robin make their way to Steve’s car. You hopped in the back seat with Argyle, scooching over to give him his space. 

He’s sitting close to you, not that you don’t mind. His knee was grazing yours as the two of you were sitting next to each other. It was unspoken between the two of you that you both wanted to touch even more. Argyle on the other hand is only focused on the fact that your knees are touching. It’s like a burning sensation that is rising to his head. It’s all that he’s focusing on. You are the only thing on his mind right now and he wants more. 

As you guys finally made it to Steve’s house, the two of you finally exited the van. The eight of you entered his house and made your way to the living room. Robin pulled out a copy of Children of the Corn. “Not enough seats for everyone, so we seem like we gotta figure something out.” Eddie suggests. You could hear in his voice that he is up to something. 

“Welp, first comes first serves though.” He says as he rushes to the couch. Jonathan and Steve sat on the couch and there was one seat left. Nancy made her way to go sit on Jonathan’s lap, meanwhile Vickie and Robin already settled to sit on the floor, pillows supporting them. Just as you were about to sit on the floor, Eddie reaches for your wrist and pulls you into Argyle’s lap. You yelp as you feel yourself being pulled by Eddie. For some reason he’s playing matchmaker and it’s working. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry Argyle!” You apologize, before you try getting up, Argyle holds onto your waist softly. “It’s fine, stay.” He says, letting his hand now linger on your waist. 

“Perfect.” Eddie says underneath his breath. Steve elbows him for meddling between the two of you. Meanwhile, Robin puts in the tape for Children of the Corn and turns off the light.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ 

About thirty minutes into the movie, you were squirming in your seat. You try to get up to get yourself a drink until Argyle holds you back. You whisper to him that you need to get you something but he avoids eye contact with you. You look at him confused as to why he’s acting this way and when you try to get up again he’s still holding onto you.

 Then it hits you, you could feel underneath you that he was hard. You widen your eyes as you look down, you could feel yourself warm up with the thought of you doing this to him, then you turn your head left and right to see what the others are doing. 

Jonathan and Nancy have their eyes watching the screen. Steve and Eddie on the other hand have fallen asleep. Robin and Vickie are still on the floor, eyes glued to the screen as well. 

Thankfully, an idea popped into your head. You stretch your arms, ‘yawning’. You put on a display that you’re tired and wanting to go home. 

“Hey, guys,” you begin. “I think I’m going to go ahead and clock out. I’m ‘bout to pass out.” “You need me to drive you back?” Jonathan asks. 

“No, it’s good, I already asked Argyle and he said he’ll take me.” “Yup, I will take her.” He says, sounding a bit like a robot. You roll your eyes and get up, you grab Argyle’s hand and help him off the couch. You grab the keys from Jonathan and the two of you make your way outside to the van. 

The two of you are now outside, keys unlocking the van for you two to ‘leave’, “Uh–wow, I’m–god I’m sorry.” Argyle apologizes for his stiff friend he acquainted. 

“Argyle, do you want to have sex..with me?” You ask slowly. He nodded his head rather quickly and began to breathe heavily. With your lips still attached, he opened the back of the van and went inside, shimming to give you some room. 

He lays down, waiting for your next move. You crawl and straddle him as you begin to get more comfortable. His lips meet yours again eagerly as you make yourself more comfortable. You grind onto him mindlessly while his hands begin roaming around your waist. 

You pull back to breathe and he whimpers at the sudden loss of touch. The sight was to die for. Argyle lay on his back, his hair all over the place free. His eye brows were furrowed and mouth open agape, waiting for you to kiss him once more. You could feel butterflies in your stomach seeing him like this, with his hands on your waist nonetheless. 

You shimmy out of your pants and lift your shirt over your shoulders. Argyle looks at you with wide eyes, whispering wow underneath his breath as well. As you reached around to unclasp the bra, you could see his eyes were fixated on one thing. As the bra falls, he watches as your breasts finally rest with no support. He thought he felt drool going down his chin as he watched your movement. What felt like twenty years of doing nothing, when in reality was like five seconds, he attached his lips onto your nipple. Sucking your breasts and massaging them in an instant. He flicks your nipple with his tongue, causing you to whimper underneath him. 

All the while, Argyle is bucking his hips into you. Your underwear and his pants were the only thing between you two. With the way he was moving underneath you, it was making you lose your breath. 

“Do you need me to–uhh, finger you first?” Argyle cringes as he asks. You smile down at him, breathing heavily. 

“I just want you right now.” You coo. 

You reach behind you to find his zipper, as you made contact with his dick, he flinched. You begin pawing at his crotch, trying to find the zipper but ultimately fail at it. Argyle finally picks up at your eagerness and does it for you, releasing your tit from his mouth and pulling down the zipper. Pulling his pants down and underwear as well in the process, his dick was finally free. He looks down to see where the two of you so desperately wanted to be touched. 

His dick rests onto your ass, waiting to be inside. You look at Argyle once more, licking your lips. The sight before his own eyes could cause him to die. You straddle him, arms on either side of his head. Your mouth opens, breathing heavily aching for more. Your tits on display for him, waiting for him to put his mouth on them again and you in the way of his dick. There he could feel your ass instead. 

“I want you so bad.” Argyle whimpers. 

The two of you finally make eye contact. As you do, you push your underwear to the side and he reaches for his length. Not breaking eye contact, Argyle lines himself up and you slowly sink down onto him. The two of you gasp at the feeling. The warmth surrounding Argyle is making him see stars. He could feel how wet you were as he inched inside of you slowly. He cures underneath his breath and holds onto your waist. He tries to situate himself and get himself a bit more comfortable, which causes him to buck his hips into you. You moan out loud at the sudden movement. You practically fold onto him, losing strength in your arms that were holding you up. Your chest to chest, body heat causing sweat between you two. “You okay?” He breathes out. You whisper out a yes, the sensation of him begins to fill your mind.

He slowly began to move, his hips meeting in the middle with you. As he moves, you begin to get more vocal.

“That’s it baby– god, you’re doing so good.” You praise him. Argyle rolled his eyes back as you praised him. He could feel you get wet as he moves. 

Argyle's grip on your waist begins to get tighter as the time goes on. The sound of light clapping and the van shaking could be heard. The two of you are so eager to reach your own highs. You try to regain composure and hold yourself up. 

As Argyle's tempo began to get quicker. As he feels himself get closer to his own high, he wraps his arms around your and begins to buck his hips faster. The sound of the creaky van, clapping, and your own voices began to get louder. 

As he kept moving, you felt a bit scared. The fact that the van was creaking because of the two of you and the clapping, it was making you aware of your surroundings.

“Argyle, we need to be quiet.” You whisper into his ear. He slowed down movements just a tad. 

“Don’t worry, they’re watching a movie, they won’t even know.” 

As his hips finally fall from exhaustion, you begin to slowly bounce on him. You rock on his cock, back and forth, as you take over. You gained composure again and began bouncing on his dick. Argyle groans as he swipes his hair out of his face. 

You clench around him mindlessly as you could feel your own high coming. With each time you bounce down on his length, he could feel himself reach his high sooner. You moan out as he begins to buck into you quicker. You could feel him inside you throbbing as he moved.  The familiar coil forms in your lower stomach as Argyle moves inside you. 

Argyle could feel you tighten on him as he moved. You whine louder at how he fucks you. You furrow your eyebrows and fall onto his chest. You try to cover your mouth to muffle yourself. 

“Argyle.” You whine out. “We need to be quiet.” You looked down at him and made eye contact. 

“You know,” he says in between strokes “, if they were to wake up because of us, I would not care.” He teases you.

“You gonna cum?” He whispers into your ear.  You nod silently as he moves. 

As his strokes began to get sloppier you finally reached your high. You scrunched up your face as you felt yourself finally let go. As you come around him, you tighten around him. As he watched you finally release, he began to lose his rhythm. His hips began to falter as he thrust into you. Soon enough, he came. He bucks his hips into you as he releases into you. The two of you groan out loud as he pumps his load into you. 

As the two of you began to come down from your high the two of you laid together. As the two of you were breathing heavily, you both closed your eyes to rest. As you two calmed down from your high, the van side door opened. 

“Oh my god!” You shout, laying on Argyle trying to cover as much as possible. 

“Dude!” Argyle said as he wraps his arms around to cover you as much. 

As the door opens, you see Jonthan looking down at the two of you. He grimaces as he sees the two of you. Jonathan puts his hand cover eyes and looks away from the two of your bodies. 

“Dude, I thought I told you not to mess with her.” Jonathan says turning his back against you two. 

“Sorry bro.” Argyle says.

“Sorry not sorry.” You say underneath your breath, smirking to yourself.

#argyle x reader #argyle #argyle fan fic #argyle fan fiction #argyle stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things argyle #argyle smut #argyle x reader smut #argyle fluff #argyle x reader fluff #jvblood

[julesclues]

Falling In Love - Headcannons

Warnings: none

Word count: 383 words

Pairing: Eddie Munson x afab!reader

Summary: Eddie Munson realizing he’s in love with y/n and one day confessing

Eddie Munson had always thought of y/n as just a friend. They had grown up together in Hawkins, playing games and exploring the town's many secrets. But as they got older, Eddie began to see y/n in a different light.

It started with little things, like the way she laughed at his jokes or the way her hair shone in the sunlight. He found himself wanting to spend more time with her, to make her smile and hear her voice.

At first, Eddie didn't know what to make of these feelings. He had never thought of y/n as anything more than a friend, and he didn't want to risk ruining their relationship.

But as he spent more time with her, he began to realize that his feelings were more than just a passing crush. He was in love with y/n, and he couldn't ignore it any longer.

It hit him one night, as they were sitting on the roof of her house, looking up at the stars. Eddie was struck by the beauty of the moment, the way the sky seemed to go on forever and the peace of being with y/n. He knew in his heart that he wanted to be with her, to make her happy and be by her side no matter what.

It was a scary realization, but Eddie knew that he couldn't keep it to himself any longer. He turned to y/n, his heart pounding in his chest, and told her everything.

"I don't know when it happened, but I've fallen in love with you, y/n. I want to be with you, to make you happy and share my life with you. Will you be my girlfriend?"

Y/n looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, Eddie feared that he had made a mistake, that he had ruined their friendship forever. But then she smiled, a soft and beautiful smile that lit up her face.

“Yes, Eddie," she said, taking his hand. "I'll be your girlfriend."

Eddie felt like he was walking on air as he hugged y/n, his heart soaring with happiness. He knew that they had a lot to figure out, a lot of new territory to navigate, but he was ready for anything as long as he had y/n by his side.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #stranger things #will byres #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #johnathan byers #argyle #eleven #jim hopper #robin buckley #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x you

[river13245]

Do you do multiple Fandom requests? Like more than one Fandom in one post? If not these can be separate or not done at all.

If you're interested, I would wanna see the orange peel theory with, Thor [marvel], Argyle [stranger things], Raj [big bang theory], and Fred [Scooby doo]. Or just general little quirks and cute things they do in relationships. I would like a headcanon format and the gender of the reader is up to you! <3

Orange Peel Theory

how would they act if you asked them to peel your orange for you.

Thor

he wouldn't even question why you were asking him.

he could be in the middle of a conversation and he would just grab the orange and peel it for you.

Knowing thor he would probably struggle to get it going at first because he doesn't want to break the orange in half.

But when he gets it going he does it so gently.

He would hand it back to you and when you place your hand on his arm and thank him. He would act as if it wasn't that big of a deal and say your welcome.

He would not know about the orange peel theory. Honestly just thinking you needed his help.

Argyle

Argyle would be in his living room on the couch. He would be smoking and getting high.

He would probably be talking to Jonathan when you enter and sitting next to him.

You would politely wait until he was finished with what he was saying before holding the orange in front of him.

he would be confused as to why your handing him an orange and take it anyways.

"thanks" he says in a questioning tone. You shake your head and tell him that you need his help peeling it.

He nods and he pushes his thumb into the middle of it and begins to peel it. He had slightly longer fingernails than you did so he did it quite easily.

Once he was finished he took one slice of an orange and ate it.

Then handed you the rest and when you gave him a look he laughs and shrugs. "hey im hungry too"

You ended up sharing the orange with him anyways.

Raj

you wouldn't even have to ask Raj to help you.

He would look at you and notice you struggling and would offer to help.

Doesn't matter if he was with his friends or not. He would offer to help.

If sheldon or someone asked why you needed help. He would stick up for you.

Sheldon would understand if you didn't like how sticky oranges were. Because he himself has problems with textures and things like that.

Raj would peel the orange then hand it back to you. Then throw away the peel.

He would even come back with a napkin for you.

Raj would know about the orange peel theory.

however he wouldn't say anything just wanting you to never really have to ask him for anything.

if he had it his way. he would do everything for you and with you.

for his help you would kiss his cheek and he would be very flustered

Fred

Fred would definitely be oblivious to you needing help.

he would be preoccupied with setting traps.

it would take you a few times of saying his name so you would have to go and tap on him.

he would be patient with you and when you ask him for help he would.

fred would struggle for a second before getting it.

Once it was peeled he would hand you the orange

then when you would place a kiss to his cheek he would blush.

he would go back to his trap and whatever he was working on.

But the whole day he would be in a happier mood.

he wouldn't miss the change to help you.

only if you asked though.

he wouldn't want to be over bearing and make you feel like you couldn't do anything.

so he would wait until you asked for help.

#river13245 #fluff #masterlist #male reader #gn reader #thor odinson x male reader #thor odinson x gn!reader #argyle x male reader #argyle x gn!reader #raj koothrappali x male reader #raj koothrappali x gn!reader #fred jones x male reader #fred jones x gn!reader

[curiositydooropened]

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

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabble: The Adults- New Years Kiss

Eddie Munson

The music filters through the speakers at the Hideout. Eddie promised to be with you for the New Year celebration, but then he got a call from the hideout manager. "Come with me to the hideout, and I'll be off the stage before they drop the ball in New York." Eddie had asked you. You mumbled it over in his arms. "Fine, Eds, but you better be right here when you're done." You told him. It's not til later when you crammed into his van with the others and all their musical instruments.

Their set goes perfectly with a large crowd surrounding the front of the stage. You sit at the bar drinking the horrible Christmas drink Hideout had added to their holiday menu. The speakers around the bar bring life to Eddie and his guitar. You watch him proudly as you keep your eye on your watch. The closer it gets to 12am, the antsy you get. Wanting him back in your arms, wanting that cigarette and pine smell back in your senses.

You're scared out of your wits when two large, sweaty hands come to grab at your waist. "See, I promised I'd be back with you before the end of the year." He says with a huff of his chest. He's surrounding you in the best way. His hair sticks up in odd places from the sweat on his forehead, and his hand is gripping your hip hard, but you don't care about the bruises. It will be left behind. "You did good." You tell him, and he bows, thanking you. "Come here, baby." He turns you in a flash, gently cups your cheek, and his thumb rubs over your bottom lip. "I never got my kiss for good luck." He says quietly. "You don't need it anymore." You tell him, Eddie shakes his head. "I still want it, baby." He tells you softly and pulls you to meet his warm and chapped lips. The kiss is a short one, one of the other bandmates coming over, pulling you both out of the wonderful little world you've both created.

Nancy Wheeler

You're climbing in through her window. Trying to get a private minute with Nancy with her parents and brother is hard sometimes, so Nancy almost always leaves her window unlocked for you to come in. She gasps and puts a hand over her heart. "Shit, Y/n, you scared me!" Nancy tells you, you wink at her. "I'm sorry, baby." You tease as you shut the window to keep the cold wind from getting in. "You could have called, you know," Nancy tells you, trying her best to keep a serious face.

"I could have, but what would have happened if your mother answered the phone?" You ask her; she rolls her eyes and pats the spot next to her on her bed. "So, are you here to give me a New Year kiss?" "Don't spoil it, baby." You answer her? The loud footsteps of Nancy's father echo through the house, and then a knock on her door. "Honey, we're doing fireworks if you wanna come down?" Her father says, "I'm okay, Dad. I'm tired anyway." There's a hum on the other side of the door. "Tired huh?" You say, smirking over at her.

With that, you grab at her hips and pull her into your lap. "Come here, baby." Nancy wraps her arms around your neck, and your hands land on her hips to keep her close. "You smell so good." You wiggle your brows at her. "Well, thank you. I always wanna smell good for my girl." You whisper to Nancy as you lean up to catch her lips. The kiss is long and sweet. No gnashing of teeth; instead, the taste of strawberry invades your senses.

Argyle

The van is filled with smoke from the weed you've both been smokin'. Neither of you are concerned with what's happening outside the small van. It had yet to start off like this. Argyle wanted to take you out to dinner, but everything was either packed or closed, so you both settled on gas station food and a good blunt or two.

Lovers Lake isn't crowded by any means. Most people are with their families or friends celebrating the end of the year and the start of the new one. You'd rather be here, though, with Argyle. Rather be in his lap, sharing a blunt between you. Instead, You'd feel his hand on your hip as he takes a long drag from the blunt and pulls you close to shotgun with him. How close his lips would be to yours, how all of his fills your senses. You let your breath go as you take the blunt from his nimble but long fingers. His eyes never stray from your frame. He watches you like a hawk, waiting for his prey to escape its underground hole.

The blunt wet from Argyle's lips wrapping around it, you take a drag and then hold it. Wanting to feel the full effect. "Come here, honey." Your voice echoes through the van. You lean forward, resting your hand on the van's inner shell. "Come here and give me a kiss." Argyle's voice is wrapped in a thickness you swear you've never heard before. You do as he asks, leaning forward, lips pressing together as smoke fills the space. "So pretty, baby." He says, and you can hear your heartbeat pulse a little faster as you kiss. "Happy New Year, baby," Argyle says to you. "That was three days ago, baby." he shrugs his shoulder and presses his lips back into yours, cutting off your giggle.

Billy Hargrove

During the Christmas holiday, you have received just a few gifts from your boyfriend. The best out of the batch was the tickets to a New Year's Eve concert. You had nearly jumped into his arms when you saw the tickets in the box. "Holy shit!" You shouted as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his chapped lips. The ride in Billy's Camaro is a long one to the big city of Indianapolis.

You brought a suitcase full of clothes, not knowing what to wear to this concert. You had an idea of who was there, but Billy wasn't forthcoming with that information. The two of you got a motel not far from the arena. Billy even said he had given the both of you an extra day. "I just wanna treat you good, is all," Billy muttered as he pulled you into the motel bed.

The next day goes by in a blur. It isn't until the following day that you know that you've gotta make the best of the clothes you packed and get ready for the concert. "Come on, Y/n, we've gotta go before we are late for parking." Billy's voice echoes through the motel walls. When the car is parked, and the two of you walk hand in hand toward the entrance, you catch glimpses of what you are walking into. "Billy?" Your voice is small in the vast area. He hums, "You're the absolute best." You say truthfully as you pull him into your side and kiss his cheek. "Keep tellin' me that, baby, because this is your New Year gift." You get into your seats. "Well?" Billy looks over at you, "What?" "Don't I get a kiss on New Year's Eve?" He rolls his eyes but grabs you softly by your throat and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss.

Jonathan Byers

"Really?" He questions you as he continues to unwrap the Christmas present. You were supposed to do Christmas six days ago, but you're now at the Byers house, the day before the new year starts. "But they cost so much," Jonathan says matter-of-factly; you just shrug your shoulders. "Maybe, but you like takin' pictures, so I thought, why not. Do you not like it?" Concerned you got the wrong gift. Jonathan starts to shake his head, telling you your gift idea was good. "No, I love it, sweetheart." He tells you to put the box on the coffee table and reach over to give you a kiss on your cheek.

You exchange more presents. Having gotten some for everyone. Including Will, Mrs.Byers, and Hopper because he is also there more often nowadays. Mrs.Byers can't help but give you multiplied hugs during the night as a thanks for for coming over because, in her words, the gifts, but Jonathan seems better off now that you guys are together. The countdown starts, and before you know it the lot of you are counting down from five.

You don't catch Mrs.Byers grabbing the camera as Jonathan leans in, grabbing at your sides gently before whispering against your lips, "Three," "Two," and then "One." At one, his lips are on yours. Tasting of dinner and drink you had before you all sat down for the countdown to the new year. You don't catch the blinding light of the camera as Mrs.Byers snaps a shot of the both of you. Kissing, falling in love in one picture. She hands the film to you when you both release each other's hold. "Here you go." Mrs.Byers says warmly before setting the camera back on the coffee table.

Robin Buckley

The party is small, but it's got just enough people to make the event a little too hectic for Robin. The only reason she's there is because of Y/n. She brings such beauty that Robin can't help but follow her into the party. Only a few girls are sitting there painting their toes together, talking about the horror stories of the boys at Hawkins High. Yet all Robin can think about is Y/n. Sitting so close to her that their knees are bumping into each other. Y/n isn't adding anything to the conversation, nor is Robin, so Robin's conversation tries to have a conversation with her. "You're quiet; everything alright?" Robin asks Y/n, and when she looks over her shoulder at Robin, Robin swears her heart stops dead in beats.

"Is it that obvious?" Y/n asks Robin. "What do you mean?" Robin asks, "I'm only here because they invited you." Y/n clarifies, oh, like a slap to her face. Robin takes a moment to react to the words that have reached her ears. Y/n is there because of her, and Robin is only there because of Y/n. "Well, can I tell you a secret," Robin says, whispering. Y/n nods. "I'm here because of you, too." There's a light blush on Y/N's cheeks.

Robin and Y/n are unaware of the countdown in the background. Girls giggling together as they whoop and holler together. Instead, they are so wrapped up in each other. Robins's hands pull Y/n close by her hips and Y/n icy cold hands are pressed firmly into each side of Robins's cheeks. "I have to say this is a best new year I've had in a while." Robin squeaks out before Y/n shuts Robin up with a life-bringing kiss.

Steve Harrington

His parents were only ever home for a few days during the holidays. They had insisted on Steve bringing you to their New Year's Party. His mother was so excited when she learned that her son was finally dating again. She said Steve had been spending too much time with those kids. This party isn't really a party for young adults. It's meant for his father and mother to keep up with their appearances in Hawkins and get a more extensive social network.

So Steve pulled you away. His hand on your lower back towards his bedroom. A red solo cup filled with something of a mix, something that his father had no clue he was drinking. Steve shuts the bedroom gently to keep the sound of the light music out. "Are your parents always like that?" Y/n asks him. He shrugs his shoulders and sits down next to her on the bed. The conversation downstairs migrates outside towards the poolside. "You think they might all freeze out before returning inside?" Steve asks Y/n, and she giggles. "I'm not sure, baby."

The clock on the side table reads 11:58pm. Steve leans in. "You know you look beautiful today," Steve tells her matter-of-factly. They hum and lean in closer. They both can feel their breath from each other. The countdown to the new year is happening in slow motion as Steves's hand wraps around the back of Y/N's neck to pull them closer to his lips. When the flashes of bright colors come over through Steve's window after loud bangs of fireworks outside. He closes the gap between the both of them. A soft, meaningful kiss. One that becomes heated and addictive almost immediately. Y/n's hands are holding close, one on his chest feeling his heartbeat, the other resting on his slightly stumbled cheek. Steve pulls back lightly and whispers against Y/n's wet lips, "Happy New Year, baby."

Completed on: 12/23/23

Posted on: 01/03/24

The Adults-

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