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muchosbesitos · 4 months

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woven in cartier

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: one bed (i love that trope sry not sry), miguel teaches reader spanish 🥸, fingering (yes again), nipple play, and oral (f receiving)

author’s note: sugar daddy miguel just has a special place in my heart as a broke college student 😫

word count: 5k

million dollar man (part one)

Miguel had gotten the flights for Cabo late since he figured you two could just start sightseeing in the morning. Despite the fact that you assured him arriving an hour beforehand was good enough to get the whole check-in process done, he still insisted on arriving three hours early to the airport. You held back from teasing him when he complained about the two hours that the two of you had to wait for loading, though you couldn't help the self-satisfied smile that came across your face. "Ay okay, I get it. I'll shorten the time to an hour and a half next time," he told you, poking your cheek after noticing your expression.

"Do you mind putting my suitcase up there?" You asked him, taking advantage of how easy it would be for him to just extend his hands and reach the overhead bin. "Yeah, just go ahead and take a seat," he responded, taking your carry-on and setting it up there with his own. You buckled yourself in the seat, the amount of space in the first class area allowing for you to recline back as much as you wanted.

You would've never been able to picture a couple months ago that the first time you'd be flying would be in first class, or that you'd even be going out to a vacation at all. You couldn't help but think back on all the worry you'd had when you first joined the website, the thought almost amusing now that you're here with Miguel.

"Hey, you okay?" Miguel's voice seemed like the calm in the storm, his voice serving as something that grounded you. "It's just my first time flying, I'll get over it," you assured him, your leg bouncing up and down at the anticipation of when it would take off. miguel reached over, his hand clasping over yours as his thumb ran small circles over your fingers.

"You'll be fine, don't worry. I've got you, mi cielo. Let me know if you need to pop your ears or anything, I got some gum back at the gift shop," he whispered, his voice just soothing enough to calm you down. You nodded, taking a couple of deep breaths as the plane started to move down the runaway.

You tapped on his shoulder after a couple minutes of being up in the air, asking him for the piece of gum now. He took the pack out of his pocket, handing it over to you. You grabbed one of the pieces, unraveling the gum out from the plastic packaging and stuck it in your mouth in hopes that it would ease with the change in altitude.

You handed the pack of gum back to him, his attention on you just to make sure that the sensation wasn't too bad. After a couple minutes of chewing, the pressure in your ears began to build up before eventually releasing in a 'pop.' You were able to relax with much more ease, your head resting against Miguel's until you eventually fell asleep.

"Hey, wake up. You slept for most of the ride," you heard in the distance, your eyes opening up to see that the plane was slowly beginning its descent into the airport. "Thanks for letting me sleep on your shoulder, I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you," you told him, rubbing your eyes as you tried to get rid of the tired feeling coursing throughout your body.

"You don't need to thank me, I'd give you everything that your little heart desired and more if you asked," he told you, unbuckling his seatbelt once the light above the two of you turned on. "The time's 11:39 PM and we just landed in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Please stay seated until the plane has come to an immediate stop," you heard above you, the pilot's voice coming through the small speaker.

"Swear I told them to give us two beds," Miguel spoke up after coming inside the hotel room to only notice one king sized bed in the middle of the bed. The two of you had touched on some lines of intimacy, but it'd never went as far to where the two of you shared a bed together. "I don't mind if you don't mind. Plus I'm guessing that all the rooms are full," you assured him, placing your suitcase in the corner of the room.

"You sure? I don't wanna push you into anything you're not ready for," he told you, setting his suitcase down next to yours. "I don't mind like I said, plus you'll be like my own body heater," you teased, taking your pajamas out of your suitcase and heading into the bathroom to change.

Despite the fact that he'd fingered you inside of a dressing room and almost made you cum, changing in front of him and sharing a bed almost seemed like something too intimate for the situation the two of you were in. But, you couldn't imagine yourself wanting to do these things with anyone else after experiencing what Miguel is like.

You came back to see that Miguel had changed into a pair of grey sweats, his upper body completely exposed to your ogling eyes. You saw a pendant hanging around his neck, a image of the little girl you'd seen around his house inside. His upper body was hairy in a way that didn't make him seem unkempt, but rather made him even more attractive if that was even possible.

You laid down next to him, the feeling of the sheets underneath you cooling down the warmth that lit up inside you just by being in such close contact with Miguel. "You don't have to sleep by the edge, ven pa' acá," he spoke gently, his arms inviting you to sleep closer to him when you turned to face him. (come over here) You scooted over next to him, his hands wrapping closely around you as he kissed your forehead.

"You sure this is okay? I can sleep on that sofa if you want me to," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours as he waited for your response. Your eyes drifted over to the sofa on the corner of the room, the size of it looking like it would barely fit you comfortably. "You'd probably fall and break your hip, old man. I like having you next to me anyways," you told him, your head nestled against his chest.

"Buenos dias. We're going out to a dolphin boat ride later just so you know," Miguel greeted you as you opened your eyes, the smell of pancakes overtaking your nostrils. You sat up on the bed, noticing that Miguel had brought you breakfast and set it down on the nightstand next to you. A combination of eggs and pancakes along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. You figured you might as well indulge in it while it was still warm before getting in the shower to get ready.

"Thanks," you spoke up, letting out a yawn before getting up from the bed. You sat down on the sofa with your plate of food, savoring the taste of the pancakes with every bite that you took. You'd never get accustomed to the feeling of living luxuriously, no matter if it was something as minuscule as just eating pancakes. Miguel laid down on the bed and scrolled through the tv, wearing a white t-shirt along with the grey sweats from last night. You weren't sure of why, but just the thought that he woke up and immediately got dressed just to get you breakfast caused butterflies to take flight in your stomach.

You heard the bathroom door close behind you but you didn't think too much about it, Miguel's hands finding your waist once you finished getting undressed. "Do you mind if I join you in the shower? It'll be less of a water waste, y'know," he asked you, his hands forming small circles on your waist.

You were already pretty certain you did want him in there, but the way that his touch electrified your skin with every caress turned that into a definite yes. "I mean since you're offering to save the planet, what kind of monster would I be if I said no," you told him with a teasing tone in your voice, opening the curtain to get in. He followed suit behind you, letting out a small chuckle at your words.

"Look at us being quite the environmentalists," he retorted, the cool water hitting both of you when you turned on the faucet. The water pressure was much more different than what you were used to, even that was much better than the shitty shower head you had back at your place. You were surprised to find the soap that you used, turning around to look at Miguel with a raised brow.

"No era nada, I was just in the store and I was aware of the trip. Thought you might've liked to have your soap than the standard bar of soap," he brushed it off, dismissing it as if it weren't a big deal. (it wasn't anything) But for someone who hadn't had that kind of effort out into them, it was a gesture that you appreciated.

"Would spend every last penny in my bank account if it meant i got to see you like this everyday," he mumbled against your neck, his hands coming up to your breasts. You moved your head back to give him more access to your neck, his lips eager to take every inch that you were giving him.

His thumbs pinched your nipples as his lips hovered above your neck, his lips closing around your pulse point as he kissed it. You could feel yourself forming into putty just by the motion of his hands, the way that he was touching you was too enticing to not give in. His mouth moved down to your breasts, engulfing your left one as his hand played with your right one.

His movements were in sync, his tongue rolling around your nipple around the same time that his thumb and pointer pinched around the other one. Your hands went down to his wet hair, the strands at the ends taking their natural wavy form. Your fingers dug into his scalp, but he didn't seem to mind the sting given the moan he released around your nipple.

He pressed a kiss to your breast before exchanging places with his hand, his tongue swirling around your right areola with the same eagerness that he'd shown for the other one. "Don't stop, please," you whined, the pleasure that he was providing your nipples going down to your cunt.

"Get against the wall for me, mamita," he told you, pulling away from your breast with a 'pop.' You did as told, his hands spreading your ass apart once he'd kneeled down. His tongue lapped up the slick that was leaking out of you from the attention he'd given to your nipples, running a stripe up from your hole to your clit. His tongue plunged inside of your vagina, eagerly lapping at the slick dripping down out of you.

His tongue came up to your clit, swirling around the nub before his mouth connected to it. He started to suck on your clit, his tongue occasionally moving around it while his finger went into you. Your slick coated his finger every time he pushed it in and out of you, the angle that he was curling it allowing stimulation to your g-spot.

"Oh fuck," you muttered underneath your breath, your body pressed up against the cold tiles while he kneeled behind you. His tongue felt like the most delicious form of torture, each swipe getting you closer and closer to cloud nine. The feeling of the cold water hitting your body as well as the warmth you felt igniting inside of you as he buried his head into your pussy was enough to make you delirious. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to that orgasm, your hips pushing back against miguel's face to meet his movements. "Miguel, you told me to alert you thirty minutes before the boat ride," you heard Lyla, Miguel's phone assistant chime in.

The moment was ruined the second that Lyla spoke up, Miguel's head removing itself from your cunt as he stood up. "Alright, thank you," he spoke loudly enough for the assistant to recognize, the alarm that he'd set up turning off. "Now I'm starting to feel like you're doing all this on purpose," you grumbled, getting off from the wall as you reluctantly reached for the bottle of body wash. "Maybe I am. It's so fun seeing you get all annoyed when your orgasm gets ripped away," he responded, his eyes crinkling in amusement at the glare you gave him. He lathered some soap onto your back, his large hands rubbing it in effectively.

You got dressed in a rush as the alarm on his phone kept beeping, alerting that the two of you would be dangerously close to missing the ride. You grabbed the Chanel bag that he'd bought beforehand, following Miguel out of the hotel. You could've sworn the ghost of a smile creeped up on his face when he saw you with the purse, the color coordinated with the outfit you'd chosen for today. The two of you managed to arrive at the dock before the boat had a chance to take off, the tour guide giving you both a dirty look as they let you guys in.

The boat took off shortly after the two of you sat down, the tour guide speaking through the megaphone about what you assumed were some of the landmarks in the area. After seeing your puzzled expression, Miguel took it upon himself to be your translator of sorts.

"He's just saying that they offer swimming with dolphins after the tour if you're interested in that," Miguel finished up, the boat slowing down as some dolphins came out into view. "Y'know, they're actually pretty cruel animals so I don't get the whole excitement," Miguel muttered in your ear, his hands wrapped around your waist as he stood behind you while you pointed the dolphins out. "You're the one who paid for this so don't blame me for getting excited."

"¿Quieren una foto juntos?" you heard from behind you, a woman looking at the two of you with a smile. (you guys want a picture?) "Si no es mucho problema," Miguel told the woman, passing her the cellphone with the camera app already set up. (if it's not too much of a problem) Miguel kneeled down a bit to be at your level, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he smiled.

As corny as it was, a dolphin managed to jump up at the same time that the woman clicked on the camera. "Muchas gracias," Miguel thanked the woman after she was done, the woman shrugging it off with a smile. "No era problema. Ustedes me hacen acordar de mi marido y yo." (it wasn't a problem. you guys remind me of my husband and me)

The rest of the boat ride was pretty peaceful, the currents proving to be pretty weak at this time of the day. You went with Miguel down to the bar when the boat turned around to head back to the dock, sitting down on the stool next to him. "Hola, ¿Qué tal? Me puede dar uno de tequila porfa," Miguel ordered, the bartender nodding and getting to work immediately. (hey, how's it going? can i get one of tequila please)

"What do you want to drink?" Miguel asked, turning to look at you as you glanced through the menu board. "I'll just get a virgin cosmo," you responded, looking up from the drink board over to him. You couldn't help but feel a bit of at a disadvantage hearing Miguel speak so fluently with the people around him while you were left to try to piece the words together.

"You mind if I ask why you chose Cabo out of all the vacation spots? Just curious why you chose this one," you inquired, taking a sip from your cocktail before shifting your attention up to him. He stayed quiet, his gaze going from you to the boat windows before he took a swig of his drink.

"I chose Cabo because it was my daughter's favorite place to come to. Before she passed away, I took her to different vacation destinations such as Greece and Italy but she took a liking to this place. Despite it being a tourist spot, I'm guessing it's because it helped her connect to her roots more," he responded after a couple seconds, his gaze coming back over to you after he was finished speaking.

"I know I haven't really spoken to you about her all that much, partly because it just hurts so much to think about her in the past tense. Like as a memory rather than a person. But you're a special part of my life now, and I thought you would've liked to know more about her," he added, his hands playing with the rim of his glass.

You reached over, holding his hands in between your own. "I'd like to know as much as you feel comfortable sharing. Take things at your own pace, there's no time limit for how long you grieve her," You hoped your words were reassuring enough, since you didn't have any experience when it came to dealing with loss at that level.

"I appreciate the fact that you're willing to even listen. I know that you didn't exactly agree to be hearing about this kind of trauma when you signed up for that website," he seemed almost guilty in the way that he spoke, like he regretted sharing the burden with you.

"It may not be what I signed up for, but it doesn't mean that I see you any differently. If anything, I just see you as more resilient. Please don't ever hesitate in talking to me about what you're feeling," you assured him, bringing his hand up to your mouth and pressing a kiss. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, giving you one of his rare smiles before going back to drinking his tequila.

The two of you went back out to the boat deck as the trip was coming to an end, enjoying the feeling of the light breeze against your skin. His hand was resting on your thigh throughout the duration, his touch only adding to the feeling of relaxation that you felt.

The boat stopped by the dock, Miguel allowing for the rest of the guests to get out before he helped you up. He held your hand and guided you back to the hotel, his pace matching yours so as to not rush you. "You wanna out to the hotel jacuzzi? You were really excited to put on that new bathing suit you bought," he asked you, referring to the new Louis Vuitton one you'd bought a couple months back.

"Yeah, we can do that. I might need you to help me pick one out since I bought a new one from Victoria Secret the last time we went," you responded, following him inside the elevator once it opened. "Surprised you managed to get any shopping done during that last trip," he mumbled underneath his breath, pressing the button for the fourth floor.

You felt a bit flustered as he brought that back up, since the two of you just kept brushing over the sexual tension like it wasn't anything too serious. "Surprised you came up with that lie so fast," you tried to tease him back, but your words didn't have the same effect that his did. He let out a small laugh, following you out of the elevator as the two of you headed to them room.

You placed the two sets in front of him, hoping that he’d give you a concrete answer to settle your dilemma. "Well, I think they'd both look good on you," he offered his bit of advice though it wasn't helpful to you while you were struggling. "That doesn't make the decision any easier. just help me pick one out," you practically whined, his expression remaining the same as he leaned against the headboard.

"Think I'll have to see you try them on just to make a good decision," he suggested, the smirk on his face doing nothing to hide the eagerness he felt towards that idea. You picked up the Louis one, changing in the bathroom before coming out to show him. You even went as far as doing a little twirl, receiving a whistle as a form of approval.

After doing the same with the Victoria Secret one, he seemed to be thinking about the decision harder than the last time you'd asked. "Go with the first one, you should save the one you're wearing right now for the beach tomorrow," he finally spoke, seeming to come to the conclusion that you'd made originally. You took off the set you were wearing now and changed into the Louis Vuitton one, coming back to see him changed into a pair of black swim trunks. He grabbed a towel and some flip flops for the both of you, locking the door once the two of you were outside.

You sat in between his legs, the warm jets hitting your skin to ease some of the tension that'd built up during your exams week. You leaned back against him, closing your eyes as you allowed yourself to just bask in his company for the time being. His hand gently traced circles on your thigh, your legs opening to give him as much access as he needed.

"So needy for me, muñequita. I left you all high and dry in the shower earlier hm?" His voice dropped an octave as he whispered into your ear, his hand coming to your inner thigh. You could only nod as his hand pushed the material of your bikini to the side, your cunt exposed for him.

You muffled a moan when Miguel turned one of the jets on, the water pressure hitting your clit at the angle that you were sitting at. "Answer me or I won't touch you, chula. Are you that needy just to have my fingers inside you?" He asked, his fingers just barely hovering above your vagina.

"Yes! Please, I've been thinking it about it since the shower. Could barely focus on those damn dolphins!" You exclaimed, eliciting a chuckle from him in response. He inserted one of his fingers into you, the water pressure proving itself to be a bit difficult. He quickly adjusted to that, establishing a good rhythm as he pushed his finger in and out of you.

His hand pulled away from your cunt abruptly as the door to the jacuzzi room opened up, a couple around your age appearing. They seemed to have a disappointed look on their face upon seeing you and Miguel, like they were planning on doing the same thing you'd done with him prior. "Think we ruined their plans," Miguel murmured in your ear when they walked away, thinking the same thing you had.

"Serves them for ruining our plans," you responded, feeling his erection hit your back the more you leaned into him. Despite the fact that he had a very evident hard on at this point, he did nothing to act upon it. The two of you decided to head back into the hotel room after the water had cooled down, your frustration evident when you stepped into the shower to freshen up.

"Hey, would you mind teaching me Spanish?" You asked him after the two of you finished showering, mostly doing nothing except relaxing in bed. "Any specific reason why you want to learn?" He inquired, looking over at you expectantly. "It's just, I feel like if im here in Mexico, I should at least do the minimum and learn a bit of Spanish instead of expecting everyone to be accommodating," you explained, his expression softening up a bit as he sat next to you.

"Alright, we're gonna go over some basic phrases just so you can get around. Now, I do have to say that it does change from region to region. Like while something means kid in one area, it can mean a completely different thing in another one," he let you know before he started with the mini lesson.

"Okay, so when you're speaking to someone with authority or someone older than you, you want to use 'usted.' But if you're talking to someone casually, like you're doing to me, then you can use 'tú.' It's more about respect than anything else," he started off, waiting for you to finish typing it out in your notes app before he started to speak once more. He went on to talk about how mostly everything was gendered in the language, with a few exceptions. Truth be told, he was proving to be more patient at this tutoring thing than you would've imagined.

"'¿Donde esta el baño?' is how you ask where the bathroom is, 'damas' or 'mujeres' indicates that it's for women," he added, gesturing for you to repeat what he was telling you. You couldn't help but notice the difference between the two of you as you spoke, the accent making all the difference. despite the fact, Miguel still looked proud of you for making the effort. "I know rolling the r's can be kind of difficult but it does kinda change what the topic you're talking about. Like with perra, you have to roll them otherwise it just sounds like you're asking for a fruit," he continued on, your notes app quickly filling up with the notes he was giving you.

"You're doing better than most tourists, don't worry. At least you're taking the initiative in trying to learn," he assured you, rubbing small circles on your back as you laid on your stomach. "You sure?" You were unsure of how well you were doing, since no matter how hard you'd tried in the past hour, you couldn't get the words to sound the same way that he made them sound. Though you knew that he had more experience with the language growing up, a part of you also felt a bit defeated from not being able to master the simple sentences that he'd given you earlier.

"You're not gonna learn it today, it's gonna take time. I'm willing to keep teaching you if that's something you want," he offered, like he wasn't already buried under enough responsibilities as it was at work. "I'll always make time for you, cielito lindo. Tu me importas mas que esos viejos arrugados del trabajo," he told you after you expressed your concern with how busy he was. (you matter more to me than those wrinkly old men from work) The two of you stayed quiet for a couple minutes, his hand gently running circles on your back. "Do you mind standing up for me? I have somewhat of a surprise for you," his request came out of the blue, but you obliged and got up from the bed.

"Stay still and close your eyes for me, muñeca," he told you, your eyes shutting once he was finished speaking. You were relying on your hearing to discern what he was doing, listening to the way that the bed creaked as he got up and the sound of the drawers opening.

You felt his body warmth behind you before he even touched you, your body being able to discern him in any environment you were in. "Alright, don't flinch. Got a snake in my hands," he muttered, his words eliciting a feeling of fear inside of you. You felt a cold metal against your chest, a small shiver running down your spine at the contact. "Alright, you can open your eyes now," he told you, stepping back to gauge for your reaction.

You were half-expecting him to be serious about the snake but when you looked down, you saw a gold necklace on you, his name adorning your neck. "I got the idea after seeing you with the nail. I wanted to get it in mexico since I wasn't too sure about the gold quality back in the states. I hope it's not too much," he told you, your hand coming up to touch the necklace like you wanted to make sure that it was real.

You turned around and faced him, a smile on your face as you hugged him. He still wasn't too good at receiving these sudden embraces, but he was getting better at being able to reciprocate them. His arms came down to your waist, holding you close to his body for a couple seconds. “I love it, thank you."

The words that you wanted to tell him were that you were starting to fall in love with him, but you decided to restrain yourself from admitting it. Swallowing them down felt like swallowing a bunch of dirt, the admission almost threatening to burst out of you with every day that passed by. You knew that you liked to spend time with him, but you never imagined that it would escalate to love.

The last thing that you needed to hear was that every gesture that he'd done was solely out of providing with his responsibility as a sugar daddy, that he only saw this as what it originally was. A transaction. How funny that you'd thought you'd be the one taking advantage of their feelings, without the consideration that you might be the one to catch feelings too.

You knew that Miguel had a tendency to destruct relationships whenever he felt like he was getting too close to a person, that he had enough on his shoulders without having to worry about his actions might inconvenience someone else. So you decided to simply settle for just being his sugar baby, despite how much you longed for his company in even the most mundane tasks.

The truth was a hard pill to swallow, knowing that you couldn't do anything about the love that was developing towards him despite the fact that every bone in your body was telling you to fuck the consequences and just admit it. But, you preferred to be in his life repressing these feelings than running the risk of just not being in his life at all.

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

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Steve's only 25 when it all catches up to him.

It starts off small, things people wouldn't even be able to tell is an early sign of something wrong. Misplacing keys, forgetting which day he has his shifts, what time he's supposed to get Robin. Robin notices though.

Robin knows Steve always keeps his keys on the hook next to Eddie's by the front door, that's where he always finds them, he's not misplacing the keys, he's forgetting the hook exists.

Robin knows Steve has the same shifts every week, they never change because they line up with Eddie's at the record store nearby. Robin knows Steve isn't forgetting what time he's supposed to pick Robin up, he's forgetting Robin moved away a few months ago after she graduated college.

Robin keeps noticing when the kids start calling her because the little things are becoming big things.

Robin notices when Dustin calls and tells her Steve thought he and Suzie were back together, "Like how crazy is that we broke up two years ago, I don't think I've even mentioned her lately."

Robin notices when Lucas calls and tells her Steve asked when his next game was, "The season ended months ago, he came to the finals."

Robin notices when Max calls and whispers softly, "He asked to take me to the skatepark, Robin, I told him I had to help mum. He's forgotten I'm blind Robin."

Robin wished she'd noticed sooner, maybe years ago when Steve was getting knocked around a lot. She wished she'd screamed in the face of those Russians to take her instead. She wished a lot of things when Eddie called her.

"He's in hospital, Birdie, he collapsed at work."

Robin is back in Chicago for the first time since she graduated. She wished she'd visited sooner.

"Do you think the feds are gonna let me go soon, Robbie? I mean it usually doesn't take this long for them to bring me the NDAs."

Robin hopes Steve doesn't notice her eyes going glossy as she runs her fingers through his hair, "Don't worry Stevie, I'm sure they'll be in soon, Dusty is probs just arguing over something in his."

"At least he isn't having to explain he raised a demodog. Did I ever tell you about that Robbie?"

Robin smiles softly, "Yeah but tell me again, don't want to forget any of it."

Eddie gives Robin the gist of what the doctors said, Eddie didn't understand much, a lot of technical words and shit. Too many concussions, more than they knew about most likely. They say it'll probably get worse with no timeframe of how quickly it'll happen, there might be good days, there will be a lot of bad days.

The first bad day comes a week later. Steve barely remembers Eddie, trapped in a time when Eddie was just the kids DM. Eddie sobs in the corridor in Robin's arms. The next day it's like nothing happened and Steve gets discharged. They tell Steve, this time Eddie is the one to comfort him.

"I don't want to forget you Eds."

"It's okay if you do, sweetheart, I'll still be here."

It's Robins idea to start writing everything down. Eddie, Nancy and the kids all help. Filling journals upon journals of stories and pictures of Steve's life to help on the bad days. Steve has to quit his job, Robin moves back to Chicago, they make it work.

On bad days depending on how far back Steve is Dustin or Robin or Eddie will read through the books with him, filling in the gaps of what he needs. On the worst days, Eddie leaves the pile of journals on the bed with a note and waits downstairs to see if Steve will join him later.

They make it work for a few years. Steve celebrates his 30th birthday with perfect clarity. He writes himself an entry in the journal next to a big group picture with Steve and Eddie's matching rings showing.

That July, over a decade since Starcourt, Steve is in hospital again. He'd collapsed at breakfast. Eddie had thought it was going to be one of their good days, Steve had woken up fine, all his memories in tact if a little fuzzy. He'd made them coffee and giggled at Eddie's singing while he made them eggs and just like that it all came crashing down.

Steve's brain is shutting down. They don't know if he'll make it past Christmas. There's more bad days after that. More days with books left on the bed. Most days Steve doesn't even come downstairs. On the good days, Eddie always calls off work. He'd rather be fired than miss a single second of Steve smiling at him like he does, so full of love.

They have Christmas, the whole family comes, they have to bring every chair from around the house and squish in around the table just to fit but it's perfect. Steve sits between Robin and Eddie, face bright and full of love and life. Everyone gives him the tightest hug as the night closes, all lingering, afraid of letting go.

"I love you, dingus."

"I love you too, Robbie."

Later, upstairs in their room, Steve and Eddie go through all the journals, laughing softly at each little note the kids have left. Steve writes his little journal entry, a tradition of good days, and curls into Eddie's arm whispering soft loving words to each other before falling asleep.

Steve never wakes up.

The funeral happens shortly after, all of the family is still in town. Robin holds Eddie afterwards as they go through the journals together. When they get to the last page, they struggle not to smudge the ink with their tears.

Dear Eds and Robbie,

I don't know how many more good days I'm going to get so I'm leaving this here for you now. I love you both so much, you're equally my soulmates and I want you two to look after each other while I'm gone.

Robs, go travelling with Nancy, ok? Thank you for looking after me all these years but it's time for you to go look after yourself. Go see the world for me, tell me all about it wherever I am when you get back.

Eddie, I'm sorry we didn't get as much time as we hoped, I hope you know that even just a day with you has been worth a lifetime with anyone else. Go follow your dreams, write music, perform, show the world how amazing I know you are. I give you full permission to fall in love with whoever you meet along the way, I don't want either of you guys to be alone.

Thank you for giving me a life worth remembering.

Your Dingus,

Stevie

#omfg i sobbed writing this im sorry #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #st4 #steddie #stobin #robin buckely #angst #poor steve #concussions #memory loss #fuck i actually cried so much omfg #ficlet #major character death #tw major character death #tw death

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ladykailitha · 2 months

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The Harrington Pattern Part 7

Hello! It's Tuesday and that means more Steve and Eddie. And it's looking like the story will end in chapter 12. It might take one more than that, but it's definitely almost done.

So what will that mean? Well, I'll start working on working on another story to bring it back up to two, but will still only work on the others on WIP Wednesday because I'm trying to get down the amount of WIPs I have running. I have far too many.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Day two of the Fair. Will sees Steve and Steve reveals a little trick. And Steve has to be stern mom again.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Steve picked up his usual set and went to the Renaissance Fair. This time they were the first to arrive and they stood there waiting for the rest of them to show up.

He had left the spirit gum with Mrs Sinclair and she was able to do an even better job then he had yesterday putting the ears back on.

The bow and quiver had been left behind today because sadly the poor bow had been a mangled, tangled mess by the time they left the fair yesterday.

Max and Robin’s cutlasses had fared better because they never left their sides, but even slung over Lucas’s shoulder, the poor aluminum just couldn’t bare the brunt of the crowds. And today was going to be even busier.

Steve looked at his watch and then back at the growing crowd waiting in line.

He tapped his foot nervously when he saw the familiar van pull into the lot. And the merry band of fellows hopped out, wearing the outfits they had yesterday. The ones that made Steve green with envy on how well they were put together.

It was like they had just walked off the set of a Hollywood movie.

He was good with a needle and thread, but whoever made their costumes should be making money off it, they were that talented.

Jeff came around to the other side of the van where Steve could see him and his ears looked great too.

“Looking good, Lawrence,” Steve whistled. “The ears are vastly improved.”

Jeff bowed dramatically. “Why thank you, my liege! I had my sister help me pick out the right color and type I needed and then I did it myself.”

Gareth snorted. “After practicing all night.”

Brian elbowed their youngest member. “It’s just like trying to get a beat right, you have to practice. Don’t give him shit for that.”

Gareth grumbled, but muttered a half-hearted apology to Jeff. The older teen just grinned at his friend.

Which after how crazy yesterday was, Steve wasn’t looking forward to a repeat if Jeff took offense to Gareth’s comment.

Eddie had been unusually quiet during this conversation, so while they milled around waiting for the remaining third of their group, Steve came up to him.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning down and forward to get a better look at the metalhead.

Eddie pursed his lips, but he nodded.

“You know, I have been dying to ask...”

Eddie smiled softly. “Who’s my tailor?”

Steve cackled. “Yeah, that. God, I would gleefully sacrifice one of the teenagers for the material alone, let alone the thread.”

“Which one?” Eddie asked, coming a little bit more out of his shell.

Steve reared back his head. “What?”

“Which one of the teenagers you would sacrifice?” Eddie asked again.

“Dustin,” Steve said without hesitation. “I figure virgin,” he counted on his fingers, “check, most annoying, check, and the one who would be the biggest... ‘value’ as it were, double check.”

Eddie laughed outright. “You don’t have to sacrifice any of them. Brian’s sister works at a big theater, the kind that do plays, as their costumer.”

Steve sighed and rubbed a bit of the black velvet between his thumb and forefinger. “You guys are so lucky.”

Eddie laughed again. “Trust me, even Bri had to pay for the privilege.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“Yup!” Eddie said, rocking back on his heels. “We had to pay for all the material and patterns ourselves, plus at least twenty-five percent of labor. These duds may be pretty, but lo they be also pricey.”

“Well, it was certainly worth it,” Steve murmured. “You guys look fantastic.”

Eddie’s cheeks colored a pretty pink. “Thanks. Um...mine is actually based on a character from a short story. Brian’s mom is Polish, but she loves sc-fi and fantasy so she gets this magazine, right?” Steve nodded. “So, anyway she’ll translate into English for Brian to read. It’s about this male witch and he has this minstrel friend named Jeskier...” he pronounced it strange, like yes-keer. “I’m probably pronouncing it wrong. But he’s so cool.”

“So you’re this minstrel guy?” Steve asked, suddenly understanding.

Eddie hummed excitedly. “Brian even went as one of the male witches. Not the main one though. But it’s still fun, you know?”

Steve smiled back. “Yeah. I never would have thought about going as a specific character before. Maybe we can plan something for next year.”

Whatever cloud leftover that was lingering over Eddie vanished in the light of Steve’s bright smile.

Eddie bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. “What’s on the docket today, pretty boy?”

Steve blushed bright red, but before he could answer, Claudia’s station wagon pulled up next to them. The four kids piled out, happily chatting and laughing. Well all but Mike.

Mike had always been a reserved kid, but as he got older, the more withdrawn he seemed to get. Will seemed to do the opposite. The kid was really coming out of his shell and into himself. And maybe that was the reason for Mike’s shrinking back.

Steve just shook his head and turned to Will. “Still no Jonathan?” he teased.

Will rolled his eyes. “He said and I quote ‘I’ll see about maybe Saturday’.”

Steve winced. He couldn’t make Jonathan come, but he could see how much Jonathan coming would mean so much to Will and it made his heart hurt just a little.

“Can’t force someone to have fun,” he said with a shrug. “It really is his loss.”

Will nodded sagely, like the mature person he was forced to become far too soon. “But! He did give me the ten dollars I needed for the staff to make up for it.”

Steve smiled. All right, maybe Steve didn’t have to stop by and give the elder Byers boy a piece of his mind.

He turned to Eddie. “Hey, you want to traverse the fields of commerce with me and Will to go get his staff?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yeah! I didn’t get to go yesterday.”

Will grinned back. He turned to El and Mike. “You going to come with me. right?”

Mike shook his head. “El wanted to see the weavers this morning, but no one else wanted to go with her and with Steve’s dumb rule...”

“It’s not dumb,” Steve said. “Just because the Upside Down is gone, doesn’t mean there aren’t things that can hurt you.”

“We’re fifteen,” Mike protested. “I think that’s old enough to go by ourselves.”

Steve looked around at the other kids and they were all looking everywhere but at him. “May I remind you that we are literally standing on the ground where human monsters were trying to open a gate? Bad guys come in all shapes and sizes and even if you think you’re safe, is El? Or Will?”

The kids looked down at their feet and mumbled their apologies.

“I just want everyone safe and having a good time,” Steve finished. “You guys can do whatever you want, but do you know who your parents would blame if something happened to you?”

Dustin raised his head sharply. “But there are other adults here, why would they blame you?”

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “Because I’m the fucking babysitter.” He walked off to get in line and everyone just followed behind quietly, suddenly somber.

Robin fell in step next to Steve and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Hey, dingus.”

Steve just ducked his head.

“It’s just a tricky age. You remember what it was like at their age,” she murmured.

“I was getting drunk every weekend, smoking, and having sex,” Steve grumbled. “I don’t want that for them.”

Robin kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet. But they’re going to have to figure it out on their own.”

Steve’s shoulders rounded. “I just want to them to have fun and we keep having knock out drag out fights before we go in and I–” he left out a deep sigh.

“You can’t be held responsible for what they do,” she said.

He snorted. “Tell that to Joyce or Claudia. Just because I’m the oldest.”

She hugged him tightly. “You’re not anymore and you know Eddie would do anything for those kids, too. Plus, this is exactly why you told them to find any adult. Let all of us help shoulder the load, too.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “I’ll try. I just keep butting heads with Mike. Always Mike. And I don’t know what to do, he’s just so prickly and even outright hostile.”

“So don’t do anything,” Robin suggested.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let Eddie handle it,” she said. “He did a fine job yesterday. So let him do it again.”

Steve pressed his lips together and then nodded. “Okay.”

She kissed his cheek again and went back to talk to Eddie. Steve paid again for the tickets. Well, not all of them. Thankfully Eddie and his friends were paying their own way.

He turned to Will. “You ready to go get your staff?” He smiled broadly to hide the hurt of Mike’s rebellion.

Will smiled back. “Hell yeah!”

Eddie came bounding up to them. “I’ll meet you at the shop, there’s something I need to do really quick about tomorrow. They’ve messed up the schedule and me and Jeff have to go see someone about it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, just ask Jeff where the shop is, he should remember which one.”

Eddie smiled again. “You betcha, big boy.” He flounced back to Jeff and Steve watched him walk away.

When he turned back to Will, the young man was looking at him with curiosity.

“What’s up?”

Will furrowed his brows. “I’m trying to decide if you know about...” he pursed his lips trying to find a way to say what he meant without outing Steve in public. “What you feel about a certain someone?”

Steve looked back at where Eddie had melted into the crowd and then back at this all too perceptive boy. He put his arm around Will and started them walking toward the shop.

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking,” Steve started slowly, “I’ve known I like both for awhile now. It was just easier to focus on the one. The one that was socially acceptable, you know?”

Will nodded. “I can see that. And then he came barreling into our lives and a good kind of upside down happened?”

Steve smiled fondly. “Yeah. He is so sweet. He’s everything I thought I wanted in Nancy.”

Will grinned. “You do have a type.”

He scuffed Will’s hair a bit. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walked in silence for awhile before Steve spoke up again.

“I feel I should give you a heads up before we get to the shop,” he said with a wince.

Will looked over at him in confusion.

“I may have talked the merchant in to holding it for you by giving them a ten dollar deposit to hold it.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “You can do that?”

Steve laughed. “No, not really. By I can be persuasive and he was willing to do me the favor.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Will murmured. “You’ve done so much for us, I think we take you for granted sometimes.”

Steve half shrugged. “My parents suck and while some of you have actually decent parents and older siblings, I don’t mind being the babysitter the one you guys look up to and come to for advice.”

Will smiled. “Any tips on how to tell your best friend you have a crush on them?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Look, the one time I did that I was drugged up on truth serum and literally couldn’t lie. I don’t think that’s going to help you.”

“Too bad Robin bats for the other team,” he said with a smile.

Steve smiled back. “Nah, I think her telling me that is what made it easier for me to realize that having those feelings can’t make you a bad person. Not when she was so amazing.”

Will cocked his head to the side. “That’s fair.”

“Come on you,” Steve said, “let’s go get you this wizard staff.”

Will stopped in his tracks. “You said it right. You never say the DnD terms right.”

Steve raised a finger up to his lips and winked. “I do it because it drives Dustin up the wall and Eddie just loves explaining it to me, so I kill two birds with one stone.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

As they wove their way through the crowd, Will smiled to himself. Steve and Eddie both liked boys, knew they liked boys, and were still unapologetically themselves. And maybe he could be too.

But first, he was going to get that wicked staff he saw yesterday because he had two brothers looking out for him. His biological one and Steve. Someone who cared so deeply that even when he should have walked away, he stayed.

And Will always could use more people that just...stayed.

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

For those that don't know "The Witcher" was an original short story in a Polish sci-fi/magazine in 1985. I couldn't figure out if Jeskier was in the original tale, so shush if he isn't.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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brbsoulnomming · 2 months

Text

Static

Steve's never certain if he hates walking through the crowds after a match or not. Sometimes, when he walks back to his flat, all bloody and bruised and exhausted, the press of so many other people feels oppressive. Sometimes he wants nothing more than to pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist, that he's in a little bubble of his own space and nothing can touch him. But sometimes, even though there's an edge of pain in every step, the bustle of people reminds him of why he does this, reminds him of everyone he's trying to protect and everything he wants to be able to keep on going exactly as it is.

Today is not a hates day.

Today the crowds feel warm and full of energy, and he basks in it, lets the feel of so much life wash over him.

Today he buys sunflowers at his favorite florist, listening to the soft hum of bees he can hear in the back of their shop. Today he asks if they have any honey, tucks a bottle of it into his pocket and sucks on a piece of the soft, sticky candy that Mrs. Anderson makes from it. The augment he keeps for show chimes softly in his ear, alerting him that funds have been withdrawn from his arena account. He doesn't know how much, but it doesn't matter. He trusts Mrs. Anderson enough not to rip him off, and anyway, he makes more than enough from his fights to get anything he wants.

It'd be enough to get out of this place ten times over, if the credits Creel gave his gladiators were good anywhere else but the citydome he runs.

Mrs. Anderson wraps up his flowers for him, and Steve gives her a warm smile when she gives him an extra one for his girl.

He can't remember if she thinks his girl is Robin, or Nancy, or Max, or Erica, or El, but it doesn't really matter.

They're all his girls, and he'd do absolutely anything at all to give them the world.

He settles the bouquet under his arms, counts the flowers - there's enough to give each of them two, but he knows he won't see them in person any time soon.

It's been quiet enough that he might have suggested a meet up, but there's… something that stops him. Steve doesn't know what it is, can't put words to what he's picked up on, but it settles heavy in the pit of his stomach. He's learned the hard way to listen to it.

They can't risk it.

Static blares in his mind as he opens his communication link, feeling out for who's listening in and smiling to himself when he senses El.

El's favorites are sunflowers, same as him. They're Max's favorites, too, but only because he knows they remind her of El.

‘Sunflowers!’ El says immediately, delighted.

‘Fresh cut,’ he tells her. ‘Want to smell?’

Her presence is suddenly much stronger in his mind, and he dutifully leans in to pull in a deep breath, holds it for a few moments, then lets the honey candy in his mouth settle right over his tongue.

There's a pleased little sigh, a soft touch of gratitude, then she withdraws.

‘When's your next match?’ Lucas asks.

‘In two days,’ Steve replies.

There's no response, not even a wordless one, but Steve knows Lucas well enough to tell that he's disappointed. Two days isn't enough time for him to sneak out, let alone have a Creel sanctioned vacation.

‘It's not the same without you here.’ Dustin's voice is colored with disappointment, too, and Steve can feel the sharpness of what he isn't saying.

‘I know, buddy. I miss you guys, too.’

He wishes he could tell them that it wouldn't be much longer. Steve's got plenty on Henry Creel, more than enough to have made this mission a success already, but they're never going to get an opportunity like this again.

He needs to stay as long as possible.

‘I'll ask for a vacation after my next couple of matches. How did your collaboration with Suzie go?’

Steve listens to the Party over the comm links for a little while longer, just to keep his own longing for home at bay, until he gets out of the busy part of the citydome and has to say goodbye.

His head goes silent as he closes his comm link, and he's alone once more - aside from the ever present trace of Robin, all wrapped up in his neural pathways that are more circuits than synapses these days, but she doesn't count. She's as much a part of him as his own thoughts are.

Tension prickles at the back of his neck when he picks up on footsteps approaching, more purposeful than anyone else passing by. Sure enough, someone falls into step with him, and his head jerks over - then relaxes.

“My liege,” Munson greets, throwing a grin at him.

Steve rolls his eyes. “What do you want?”

He didn't think it was possible, but Munson's smile widens even more.

“To celebrate!” he announces, arms spread as though gesturing to the wide expanse of celebratory pleasures to be had around them.

Which are exactly none, considering Steve'd already passed the pleasure district. He raises one eyebrow to convey just that.

Munson is undeterred.

“Come on, your Majesty,” he cajoles. “Look at you! First time in weeks that a gladiator walked away from a match with barely a scratch on them! Surely such a transcendent performance from the King is worthy of deigning to mingle with the Freak?”

Steve's going to say yes, he already knows he is, but he makes him wait a little longer, making a big show of sighing and crossing his arms and looking him up and down.

It's then that he sees it.

If Steve was everything he was pretending to be and nothing more, he never would have picked up on anything. There's nothing in Munson's demeanor that is any different from the handful of other times they've caught up with each other for a drink after a match.

It's only because his scans pick up so much more that he detects the unsteady beat of Munson's heart, how he holds himself ready the same way he does in the arena.

And the gun tucked in the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

Right.

Looks like he's out of time here, then.

If Steve's honest, he's a little surprised that it's Munson. The rivalry between the Freak and the King is all for show in the arena - not like it is between him and Billy Hargrove or between Munson and Jason “the Prophet” Carver.

If Steve's even more honest, he's disappointed, in more ways than he can spend time sorting through right now.

“Fine,” he says, letting himself sound long suffering. “Where are we going? I'll swing by home to drop these off and meet you there.”

Something tense but otherwise unreadable flickers behind Munson's eyes, and Steve wonders if he's been ordered not to allow him to leave his sight. He doesn't have a choice, though - it's a reasonable request, exactly what Steve would have said if he hadn't caught on, and his only other option is -

“Allow me to accompany you,” Munson says, bowing low in a show of gallantry.

It's a risk.

Steve's never let another gladiator come to his flat before, and there's very little chance that he'd let Munson come now, even if he didn't realize what Munson's true intentions were. He wonders what the back up plan is if he says no, wonders if Munson will do it right here in the open.

“Why?” Steve asks, unable to stop himself from pushing, even though he knows it's a bad idea.

Munson peeks up from his bow, flutters his lashes, all playful exaggeration. “And risk you backing out and abandoning the likes of little ole me?”

“Never backed out before after I've said yes,” Steve points out, digging in. Pushing harder. “Unless you have a reason for inviting yourself over? Maybe a different kind of celebration in mind?”

Munson tips his head back down, but Steve's scanner can pick up the way he swallows, harsh and rough. “Yeah.” It's flat and hollow, and it immediately sounds wrong to Steve's ears. “Yeah, maybe I had something different in mind.”

That's -

Not what Steve was expecting.

Would he, Steve wonders? Would Munson play that card, even though he clearly doesn't want to, even though he kind of sounds like he hates himself a little for it?

“Hey,” Steve says, unbidden. “I'm just messing with you, man. It's fine, you can come with me to drop them off.”

Steve might be well aware that he's going to have to kill Munson, but he doesn't want to be cruel about it.

Munson straightens, his usual smile back on his face, and he checks his shoulder into Steve's hard enough that it stings a little. “Asshole,” he says.

“You're the one who hangs out with me,” Steve replies.

The crowd thins even more as they move into the residential blocks. They're not going in the direction of Steve's flat - but they are going in a direction that he could live in, and it's not like Munson knows where he actually stays. It's not like Munson knows that Steve's already activated his comm link and told the Party his cover's been blown, and that he has to get out of the citydome tonight.

“Hey, Munson?” Steve asks, slowing to a stop.

Munson hums, looking over at him with a brow raised in question.

Steve pulls the extra sunflower that Mrs. Anderson had given him free from the bouquet, tucks it into the front pocket of Munson's jacket.

“I really am sorry about before, I shouldn't have messed with you like that,” he says.

He's sorry about a lot more than that, but this is what he's got.

Munson's lips twist down, and he sighs as he pushes Steve's hands away - though he leaves the sunflower there.

“Steve,” he says, soft and filled with something like regret.

Nothing follows it.

There's a beat where they look at each other, and Steve thinks -

And then there's the sound of harsh laughter, boots dropping onto the ground as someone swings down from one of the platforms overhead.

“King Steve,” Hargrove drawls. “Sweet on the Freak. You're really making it easy to knock you off that throne, aren't you?”

Shit.

Steve's in worse trouble than he thought.

He steps back automatically, shooting a betrayed little look over at Munson - it's one thing for Munson to be planning on killing him, it's another for him to lead Hargrove to him.

But Munson looks surprised, and then furious, and Steve realizes -

Hargrove isn't here for Steve. Or at least, not just for Steve.

“I told Creel you couldn't do it,” Hargrove tells Munson, voice conversational. “You're all bark and no bite, aren't you?”

“Get the fuck out of here, Hargrove,” Munson says tersely, teeth gritted.

“No can do, Junior,” Hargrove replies. “I have to clean up your mess.”

“You set me up,” Munson bites out. “This was never going to be a fair chance, was it?”

Hargrove shrugs, unconcerned. “You want me to drag you back to Creel to explain yourself, or should I just put you out of your misery here?”

The thing is, Steve thinks Munson would have done it before Hargrove showed up. Steve and Munson are friends, maybe, but loyalty to other gladiators only goes so far, and Creel keeps them all under a heavy thumb. It wouldn't have been anything personal - it would have been just what Munson had to do to survive in this place.

The thing is, Steve knows he would have put a bullet in Munson's brain right here. It would have destroyed a piece of him to do it, he can acknowledge that now, but he would have done it without hesitation if it meant keeping the resistance in general - and the Party in specific - safe.

The thing is, even if Hargrove does kill Steve - even if Munson kills Steve, even if he manages to kill Hargrove before he can report back to Creel - Munson is finished, now. Unfair or not, he's failed the test. There's no going back, not if Creel doesn't trust him, and Steve knows Munson's smart enough to have realized that.

The thing is, if Creel suspected Munson enough to have Hargrove follow him to make sure he got the job done, there must be a reason why, and Steve wants to know it.

‘Change of plans,’ he tells Robin, even though he can already feel her at the back of his mind like fingertips ghosting through his hair, downloading his memories until she's caught up. She already knows exactly what he's going to do.

The piece of him that would have died with Eddie Munson finally settles into place, the circuitry that makes up more of him than he usually lets on humming softly in his veins as it adjusts to account for it.

Steve swings around to stand in front of Eddie, and plants his feet.

“If you want him,” he says, and he can hear the echo of it through the static of his communication link, calm and determined.

Steve's never felt more steady than he does when he's standing between a looming threat and one of the people who've become part of the very core of him.

“You'll have to go through me.”

Hargrove sneers at him. “You can barely hold your own against me in the arena.”

“The arena’s all show.” Steve laughs, a little mean. “You think I'm sitting here with prototype Harrington augments and all they've got is what you've seen?”

He's not sure why he's keeping up the pretense that he's nothing more than what he seems. If Creel is sending people to kill him, he has to know Steve's part of the Party. But it's ingrained in him, somehow, to protect them until his last breath, whether it's artificial or not.

The question makes Hargrove scoff, and Steve swings at him.

Hargrove lets it hit, laughs at him again with blood dripping from his mouth, and then -

They've fought in the arena, before. Not often, because they're brutal with each other, and because Creel knows their matches always draw a massive crowd and likes to drag out the tension, keep the audience wanting more.

This is nothing like that.

Despite their brutality, there's an element of safety in arena matches. The punishment for killing one of Creel's gladiators is harsh and swift, and so they're almost never in any real danger.

This is - Steve can see the hatred in Hargrove's eyes, same as he always does, but now there's intent, now Hargrove's own augments have been let loose, and there's more power behind every punch than Steve's ever felt before.

Steve's starting to think the only way he can beat Hargrove is to really let himself go, and it makes his heart quicken, makes the dread in his chest coil tighter and tighter - makes Robin even more present in his mind, makes her whisper ‘you have to, it's okay, I'm here, I won't let you lose yourself,’ -

Until a shot rings out, clipping Hargrove on the shoulder.

It's not that Steve forgot Eddie.

It's just that he kind of assumed that Eddie would run off after Steve took his first swing at Hargrove. It'd been part of the reason that he pulled Hargrove's attention onto himself in the first place.

The expression on Hargrove's face says that he'd assumed the same thing, and he shoots a venomous look over at Eddie.

“Who's cleaning up messes now?” Eddie asks.

Hargrove snarls, drawing his own gun on Eddie, and -

Steve's too close for Eddie to get a clear shot at Hargrove, and by now he's starting to think that Eddie won't take the shot if it means he'll have to shoot through Steve, but he knows damn well Hargrove won't have the same reservations.

‘Robin,’ Steve says, even though she's already there, flooding his mind until she's all he can feel.

He can't lose himself when he does this if he's so much her that they can't separate each other out.

Steve lets go.

Electricity flares under his skin, crackling and humming, and when he grabs Hargrove's hand it immediately shorts out his gun. It flows out - and out and out and out and out, overloading the circuitry of Hargrove’s augment and threatening to burn it through completely if it keeps going, and he needs to -

He needs to -

‘Stop.’

Steve can't tell if it's Robin's voice or his, but it doesn't matter.

It's enough to get him to pull himself back. He lets go of Hargrove, breathing heavily as he shuts himself down. Steve's expecting to have to fight with himself, with the way the power in him wants an outlet, but it simmers back down with little more than a whisper. It's easier than it's ever been before, and he can feel Robin's pride whispering through him.

Steve looks up, just in time to see Eddie pointing his gun at Hargrove.

“Don't,” Steve says, stepping between Eddie and Hargrove.

It isn't the same as when he stood between them last time.

For one, Billy Hargrove isn't exactly conscious. For another - Steve doesn't care about Hargrove himself, not the way every part of his being screamed at him to protect Eddie. The only reason Steve's standing here at all is for Max.

“He'll tell Creel,” Eddie says. “You know if he's still alive, if he gets back to him, we're finished.”

“We're finished here either way,” Steve points out. “And Billy Hargrove isn't our decision to make. It belongs to someone else.”

Eddie looks at him searchingly, for a long moment. “If not you, then who?”

It's a fair demand.

As far as the general public knows, as far as Henry Creel knows - the rivalry between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington is as intimate as it is intense. Steve would be lying if he pretended like he didn't know that there was a fan favorite theory that there was something more behind their fights.

But it's never been true. Steve's only ever hated Hargrove for what he did to Lucas and Max.

“Come with me,” Steve says. “And I'll introduce you to her.”

Eddie's eyes are dark, unreadable.

Except -

Except.

Except Steve can read into them, can read hesitancy, longing, hope.

He reaches out, snags Eddie's hand, links their fingers together.

“Come with me,” Steve says again. “And I'll protect you.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, soft and almost surprised. “Okay.”

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #robin buckley #stobin #dustin henderson #pre steddie #cyberpunk au #but also kind of a gladiator au and a dystopian resistance au?#yeah i have no idea what this is #meant to be a one-shot but i might do a few more

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mixsethaddams · 1 year

Text

Throwing my hat into the latest trend of Shovel Talk posts. tw reference to past child abuse (not detailed)

Eddie gets the shovel talk from no less than five people.

Dustin, Robin, Erica, Max and Lucas. (Those two came as a pair, as they so often did since the Vecnapocolypse) Actually, technically six, if you count the fact that Dustin kept saying And Will Said...

They all say in and around the same thing. Steve deserves the world, he's been the babysitter for longer than Eddie's been the DM, blah blah blah. Honestly, Eddie's getting a little tired of people assuming he'll hurt Steve and leave him heartbroken. By the time he closed the door after saying goodbye on the final He Means More To Us Than You Do conversation, he was left in no doubt that the kids expected him to fuck up royally and they would not hesitate to choose Steve when (not if, as far as they were concerned) it happened. They would never forgive him. It was good to know where he stood, he guessed.

What Eddie didn't know, was that Steve was getting a few shovel talks of his own.

Wayne was first, obviously. Steve wasn't surprised to be pulled aside at the Byers/Hopper barbecue to listen to some very unsubtle threats about what might happen to him if Eddie came home with so much as a pout Even One Time, Boy, You Hear Me?

More surprising, was Joyce.

Joyce came by one night under the pretence of bringing by some leftover lasagne. Steve offered her a tea and they sat in the kitchen together while she asked polite questions about how things with Eddie were going. When Steve was done telling her all about the constant butterflies in his stomach, she clasped his hand gently across the table.

"I'm happy for you sweetie, I am,"

"Thanks Joy–"

"But you need to understand that Eddie is a fragile boy, and he needs real love, Steve. He's not the type to be happy with a, what do you call it, a fling? He's not the type for that,"

Steve was taken aback.

"This isn't a fling, Joyce,"

"Can you promise me that? I remember him from when he was just a kid and, god, well, I'd hate to see him hurt,"

Steve's mouth was open and closing like a fish, totally at a loss for words.

"Steve, can you promise me that? I know you're grown now and things are different, but I need you to say it for me,"

"I promise, I... I'm not who I used to be,"

Joyce patted his hand.

"Good boy. I better get home,"

And then there was Hopper.

Hopper knocked on the front door of the Harrington house early one Saturday morning, three sharp thuds on the door that made you think, Yup, Cops Are Here.

Steve answered still half asleep, barely aware he'd even pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

Hopper didn't accept the invite to come inside. He noticed Eddie's boots by the door.

"He here?"

"Uh, yeah, has been since yesterday, why? Did someone say he done something?"

"No, he's not who I'm here for,"

"What? I haven't done anything?"

"Good, and I expect you to keep it that way,"

Steve didn't know how to react. His eyes were still adjusting to the daylight and his brain hasn't quite woken up yet.

"Hop, I don't know what you're talking about,"

"El told me that you all know about the night he went to live with his uncle, says he told everyone the basics when Jon was worrying about turning out like Lonnie,"

"Yeah, he told me some more about it after too,"

"Figured he might,"

Steve shuffled from one foot to the other.

"I still don't know why you're here..."

"I was the one who carried him out of that house that night, Steve,"

"Oh,"

Oh indeed. Hopper's voice was gruff and low. Steve was actually nervous.

"I listened to him cry for hours. He couldn't breathe it was so bad. I never wanted to hear another child even speak after having to sit in the room while he told Wayne what went down,"

"I–"

"And I don't think I'll ever be able to sit right with the idea of that kid being sad again, because of someone else messing with him. I never forgot what he sounded like when he cried. Don't make me have to see him cry again, Steve. Do you understand me?"

Steve was stunned. All he could do was nod dumbly. There was no point offering any sort of defence, Hopper obviously wasn't here to listen. He was here to tell. Of all the people Steve might have thought would be on Team Munson, the former chief of police wasn't exactly top of the list. Eddie's distinct lack of criminal record through his teens might have been some indicator though.

Hopper gave Steve a curt nod and turned back down the driveway without another word.

He closed the door and leaned against the wood, letting out a low breath. Eddie appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes.

"Baby? Who was that?"

"Uh, Hopper..."

Eddie huffed a sleepy laugh.

"Hmm, shit, Law Man swing by to make sure I was behaving myself?"

Steve went to Eddie and pulled him into a tight hug, nuzzling into his hair. He really had no clue, did he?

"He was just checking in,"

Eddie hummed and went towards the kitchen to switch the coffee pot on. He had told Steve about the shovel talks he got from the kids earlier in the week. Trivial threats about leaving Hellfire and never helping him write a song again or going to one of his shows, taking back his Walkie privileges, things that seemed like the end of the world to a group of minors. Eddie had wistfully mentioned that Steve would never have to worry about being on the receiving end of something like that, he didn't think anyone really cared enough. Maybe You'll Get A Weird Look From Wayne, But I Think You're In The Clear, Golden Boy.

Eddie had no idea about the people that were looking out for him without him realising it. It made Steve's heart hurt. He'd half expected Robin and the others to have words with Eddie. It was almost a joke, he hadn't thought twice about it because he just kind of knew it would happen. He knew they cared, and he couldn't imagine how it would feel to be so sure that they didn't. That no one did.

Steve made a promise to himself then and there to never let Eddie feel like no one cared enough ever again, giving himself his very own version of the Don't Hurt Eddie Munson shovel talk.

It was the least Eddie deserved.

(Also posted to my ao3)

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #my writing #seth writes #shovel talks

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nikolai-vincent · 1 month

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Y'all I have a big list of Byler things and I need help to make sure that everything I've stated is actually true and not my mind making things up💀🤣🤭 so prepare for a long list and I'll cut it down so it doesn't take years if you wanna scroll by it lmao

Mike tried calling Will all the time while he was in Cali (& could be the reason for weird airport interaction) Mike can't use a telephone to talk to El bc of of government listening in, so Dustin's words are about Mike calling Will but not being able to reach him.

It wasn't love at first sight, the offical season 1 trailer with the scene where they first find El, Mike's first thought is "That's not Will." And also this is Mike's plan to get rid of her from the night they found her, even though he is supposedly already in love with her since he said he loved her the moment he saw her?🤨

His monologue didn't help/wasn't fully true, El didn't have a single flashback of her and Mike throughout their whole relationship except for when they found her in the woods. They've been dating for roughly 9 months before breaking up for 3, then getting together again and currently at 6 months (so 1 year and 3 months of officially dating, having known each other fully for 3 years, although not fully because she was gone for a whole year) and yet she didn't have a single other memory besides the night they saved her?

Mike and El didn't speak that much for 2 full days while they were stuck in the van?? Even after Mike's love confession, all El was apparently talking about was how she feels like she lost the battle with Vecna and how Brenner had put it into her head and stuff.

Mike has a sort of superhero idealization for El. He's mentioned multiple times that she's a superhero, she's a machine that can help find Will, and it's shown throughout the seasons how much Mike loves superheroes. In my opinion, that's not a super great thing to compare your girlfriend to, especially after she has shown to want to be more than that, but feels like that's all she's good for now.

They never see eye to eye/always disregard the others feelings/attempt to be understanding. All of their arguments I've seen, they both try to be understanding at first, but then they shut each other down and speak for the other person when they're doubting each others thoughts (one scene perfectly showing this is their fight in El's room in season 4).

Mike and El knew each other for roughly a week (at 12 years old) before getting together and then immediately getting separated for a whole year, only to become reunited and jumping immediately into a relationship at 13 and ignoring their friends to only kiss each other for 6 months and not deepen their bond emotionally?? Then they break up like it's nothing and Mike doesn't know what she likes when he tries to buy her a gift to apologize (only after Lucas says something) (then getting into a fight with Will for the first time and apologizing as soon as possible on his own choice).

Mike has issues saying I love you (tried saying it once in s3 and couldn't even say the word "love", instead going for "blank makes you crazy" which El didn't understand. Only time he says it was in a high stress situation and he blurted it out to everyone except her, with a look of shock and confusion. S4 he doesn't say it at all, writing "from, Mike" all the time, to which he is confronted by her and only is able to say "I care for you... so much." And "I say it." ("It" being I love you) (which is a lie) That fight in El's room would've been the perfect time for him to tell her he loves her after he sees her crying to him about it, he could have perfectly said something like, "El, of course I love you. I'm sorry I don't say it, I'm just not used to feeling this way, but thank you for talking to me about it, I'll try to work on it." Or something to comfort her. In the end he is only able to say it in a high stress situation (AGAIN) and only after having a whole speech from Will, and needing Will to tell him not to stop and to say whatever it was he couldn't before. (Which, Will didn't know that Mike couldn't say I love you to her) Mike was given false hope that El needed him and felt better for being different because of him, which was a lie and those feelings were from Will himself, his speech was a veiled love confession.

Mike subtly (or unintentionally) compared both of his relationships with Will and El by saying that meeting Will "was the best thing he's ever done" but meeting El was "Not fate. Not destiny. Just simple, dumb luck." (He chose to befriend Will, by actively going up to him and asking, whereas he didn't choose to meet El, it was an accident).

Mike struggles to switch his focus between El and Will, we've seen throughout all of the seasons how Mike acts with Will and how he acts with El, and I'll be honest, they're pretty similar. He's soft, sweet, and casual with Will, and he's nice, gentle, and kind with El (just in general, relationship stuff aside). But then you put them in the same room and Mike doesn't know how to act properly with either of them, and we honestly don't see the real interactions with these three until season 3. I've noticed a lot that when Mike and El are in a relationship, they ignored everyone and just made out, but after they broke up, the whole group was together and had no issues with doing so (I guess the flayed helped with that, though lol).

Will is the only person that Mike will immediately try to apologize to if he did something wrong, whereas anyone else he blames others and doesn't apologize until someone tells him to (examples: Dustin told Mike to apologize to Lucas in season 1 after they fought, Mike was blaming Lucas and didn't want to apologize even though Mike was the one that started the fight. He didn't apologize to El in season 3 for the way he was acting, instead choosing to lie and needing help from Lucas on what to get for El as an apology (again, Mike knows nothing about El by this point still), and yet later on after he has a fight with Will, he bikes to Will's house to apologize, he blames himself, calls himself an asshole (with Lucas following, not leading). Seasone 4, the second fight that Mike and Will have is in the skating rink, Mike calls Will a douche and says he sabotaged the whole day by moping, rolling his eyes, and not talking but later on he goes to Will and immediately starts apologizing and says he was being a self pitying idiot, and telling Will that he wasn't being a douche and Will didn't deserve to be called that).

Mike and Will are very different compared to their friendships with Dustin, Lucas, or Max. (With proof being from Mike himself, saying "Max and Dustin and Lucas.. they're-they're great.. they're great, it's just-it's Hawkins, it's not the same without you. And maybe I was worrying too much about El, and I feel like I lost you or something." (Something along those lines lol)

The Duffers have compared Mike and El's relationship to Elliot and E.T, a friendship between a kid and an alien.

El was upset with Mike during the cabin cleaning scene (giving him a side eye and sighing heavily before going to her room) after Mike's supposed love confession.

Mike agreed (by nodding) when Will was talking in the desert about how it's scary to open up to people you care about the most bc of them possibly not liking the truth (Will was comforting Mike about El during this, sort of) (Why would El not like the truth if the truth was that Mike loves her?? Sus).

Mike showed a big difference in priority when it came to searching for Will vs El. In season 1 after Will went missing, Mike (+ the party) was told by the police to stay home and not interfere in the investigation. Mike disobeys and goes out (+ the party) to search for Will in the dark and rain. After meeting El, they use her as a weapon to continue searching for Will. After finding Will's "body" in the quarry, Mike switches on El and is mean and blames her for not telling the truth about Will. El then shows Mike through the walkie-talkie that Will is alive and Mike believes her (even after seeing Will's body, he has hope again that Will could be alive), he's nice to El again after this. Vs, when El goes missing at the end of S1 and going into S2, Mike believes she's dead (although not seeing a body), and doesn't go searching for her. He sees her through the window on the same night she disappeared, but he never goes out to look for her. The only thing he does for the whole year is try to talk to her through a walkie-talkie, but he never leaves his house to try and find her (even though he's seen proof of her being alive) while she's gone, Mike's priority is fully focused on Will and his possession. In season 3, Hopper threatens Mike to stay away from El (similarly to what he said about staying home and not looking for Will in season 1) and he immediately agrees and doesn't try to see her.

Mike has a lot of familial/platonic parallels with El's father figures than he does romantic, he's always paralleled with Brenner (with proof in season 4, the "what did you do?" / "what have you done?" scene at the rink) which is so bad and sad, and some scenes similarly with her and Hopper.

Gotta say it, Mike has looked at Will's lips multiple times (at least 4, off the top of my head) (which is 4 times more than he has with any of his other friends probably) and he barely does it with El. If it was a mistake during filming, they would've shot it again, bc they were obvious but they stayed in.

And just with the way Mike looks at Will compared to his other friends or even El, that boy looks more in love than the one canonically in love.💀

In both season 1 and season 2 (besides their first kiss and the snowball (which weren't planned originally, I believe)) Mike has never been the one leaning in or attempting to kiss El, he just stands and stares confused as she does all the work.

Mike has Will's art all over his basement from when they were children (and some in his room, I think?) But he throws away and crumples all of the letters he receives from his long distance girlfriend? Sus.

The difference in Mike's reactions to being broken up with romantically vs platonically in season 3. His face shows a sort of disgust and almost guilty when El breaks up with him, and his face is full of guilt and sadness when Will tells him he wanted to stay with him forever.

Mike was fruity af during his apology to Will in S4 Ep4 just saying.

Canonically Mike only smiles in pictures when Will is in them as well. (Photos in tags bc I'm at the limit😔)

It's been confirmed that Mike is clueless about Will's feelings for him, so I'm wondering why he was so affected by the 6 months away with only a couple phone calls that lead to him not even wanting to hug Will at the airport (even though he saw how happy and excited Will was to see him again) when he hugged Will perfectly fine at the end of S3 (even though they never actually resolved their first fight in the rain?) Hm. Sus.

Mike has Smalltown Boy on his (OFFICIAL) spotify playlist?? A song about "the need for gay men to flee small-town intolerance and pursue reinvention in the big city. " ???

Just a cute thing about Mike and Will beings friends since the first day of kindergarten (when they were 5 years old) and having the longest friendship out of everyone in the party.

Kind of iffy about this one but the song Tarzan Boy was playing at the roller rink (a song about being free and doing what you want) when Will, Mike, and El were at the table. (Probably not a lot of significance but still a thing).

From an outsiders perspective, Mike and El were not happy when they were skating at the rink together, from Will's perspective, they were super happy and laughing together while Will was left behind. This is shown when Angela walks into the rink with her friends, we see Mike and El from her pov and their faces are very stoic while they hold hands.

That's all I have for now, I've had these written in my notes for like 2 years lmao but please, if you've even gotten this far, let me know if anything looks inaccurate and I'll fix it:) and also feel free to add anything you've noticed as well! I'd love to see it.

#byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler analysis #<sort of

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undead-supernova · 1 month

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I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.

Follow the Fever Dream

Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Masterlist

plot: let's go back to the beginning again, where promises can't be made but are waiting to be kept - inspired by "I Think He Knows" and "Cruel Summer" (with a sprinkle of "The Archer")

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: family death mention, "diet" mention, failed relationships, smoking

easter egg count: 24

wc: 7.1k

Early May, 2024

There was always something so comforting about the sound of a stadium filling with people. The excited squeals, the chants. The hum of thousands of people all trying to get to their seats. It was something that lured you into the world of performance. It was like church, the way that strangers came together for this very special moment in time. Even if the setlist stayed the same, each concert was unique.

And you were running late.

In your humble defense, you had tried to catch an earlier flight to Indianapolis. But when you magically received a text from Jeff with a link to two backstage passes to see them perform, it had been nearly midnight. Two days before. You had to beg Clara to let you go, promising you’d get back on a plane the next afternoon to make it to the next stop of your tour in Arizona.

You knew it was risky, showing up here.

Corroded Coffin seemed so far from your wheelhouse, a departure from the box the world put you in. Any passing glance at the certified “Pop Princess” could wind up with you on E! News’ stupid fucking Instagram page.

And, for the life of you, you were not dressed like everyone else.

You’d opted for a cream-colored graphic tee with The Beatles on it (just to mildly piss Eddie off) paired with dark jeans and a pair of platform heels. It wasn’t much, but then again you didn’t really have much on you in terms of nice outfits outside of your stage costumes. Your main goal on tour was to be as lazy as possible in between shows. And, well, now that had flown out the window.

Scott had helped you navigate the back hallways of Lucas Oil Stadium. He usually never asked questions about the decisions you made. Rarely questioned your judgment on anything. He was good like that, trusting that you always made the right choices for yourself. And though he said nothing now, you could tell he was curious.

In the last, what, five years, you’d never once strayed from the schedule. You were on the bus, on the plane, hours before anyone showed up. Before shows, you were reading a book an hour before your opening act went on.

Makeup? Done. Hair? Done. Costume? Done.

But here you were, steering off course to attend a concert based off the text of someone you met once. So you could go see the guy you slept with. Once. Who you hadn’t spoken to at all in the last two weeks. Because you hadn’t thought to exchange numbers.

You were surprised not to find the band backstage, instead being surrounded by busy crew members making sure everything was running smoothly. None of them even gave you a second glance. Guess no one here was phased by a celebrity. Thank God.

But there, inching towards the curtain, were four people. Three guys and one girl. You didn’t realize you were walking up to a crowd of…high schoolers? Fans, perhaps? On the bright side, at least you weren’t sticking out like a sore thumb. None of them were dressed like the people in the crowd.

But there you were, too terrified to approach, nearly overwhelmed with anxiety as you awkwardly stood next to Scott. It didn’t help that you’d missed the entire opening act.

Attempting to glance out at the stage, you watched a few crew members finishing up with markers and mic stand heights. Fine tuning the drums one last time.

“Move over, Dustin,” the redhead huffed, bringing your attention back.

“Jesus Christ!” Dustin responded, shaking out his soft brown curls that suspiciously looked a lot like a certain man you knew. “I want to actually be able to see him.”

“Don’t be a baby.”

He huffed. “I’m not a baby, Max! Where’s Steve anyways?”

A kid standing next to Max smiled. “Probably making out with Nancy.” Him and Max immediately started making kissing noises.

“Gross!” Dustin exclaimed. “Cut it out. You’re as bad as Mike and El.”

“Shut up, Dustin,” the one you presumed to be Mike said. “You’re just jealous ‘cause you don’t get to see Suzie for another three months.”

“Oh, hello,” another voice said behind you, startling you beyond belief.

You turned, confused when you saw a very attractive guy much closer to your age approaching with two girls in tow.

And it took less than five seconds for the chaos to ensue.

“Holy shit, you’re—”

You whipped your head around to stare at the kids who were coming closer. On instinct, Scott stepped toward you.

“What the hell are you doing at a Corroded Coffin concert?” Mike asked.

The boy next to Max pointed at you. “No, seriously, you’re—”

“Shut up, Lucas,” she scolded, pulling his hand down. “She’s just a person. You are ridiculous.”

“Uh, hi,” you said finally, feeling your face grow hot. “Yeah, hi.”

The guy behind you got closer, holding his hands up in caution. “Sorry, none of these idiots know what manners look like.”

You took in his appearance, a yellow sweatshirt thrown over a pair of jeans. A particularly nice watch on his wrist. Voluminous honey hair and dark eyes that seemed to soften in the bright stage lights.

The girl next to him extended her hand, all pretty in light blue and white. “We’re friends of Eddie’s,” she explained. You shook her hand. “I’m Nancy. This is my boyfriend, Steve. And this is Robin, she’s a close friend.”

“Nice to meet you all,” you replied. “Wait, Eddie’s friends?”

Robin nodded, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jean shorts. “Yep, have been since right before we graduated high school. Love your music, by the way.”

Before you could respond, Nancy asked, “How do you know Eddie?”

You couldn’t help but cross your hands over your chest, hands resting on your elbows. Everyone was still gawking at you. Well, except for Max who was doing her best to keep the other kids from staring. You appreciated it even if it wasn’t working.

“Um,” you attempted before clearing your throat. “Yeah, we met back at the Grammy’s a few weeks ago. Jeff invited me, actually. But, yeah. Eddie and I are friends.”

Each person held different expressions, mostly dumbfounded. Was it really that weird for two celebrities to get to know each other? Even if you were in separate genres? Did you really not fit in?

But Max merely nodded at you, taking your arm while saying, “Here, come up here. You can see the stage better from here.”

Face growing hot again, you nodded back and situated yourself (and Scott) between her and Mike.

“So you’re not together?” Max asked, looking up at you.

“Um, I don’t think so,” you said truthfully.

She raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed. The crowd started going absolutely haywire, and you couldn’t stop yourself from clapping. (Oh and shoving some earplugs in to save yourself some hearing damage.)

A hum sounded as a smoke machine began to kick up. The screens surrounding the stage started showing images, flashing over one another as a voice that sounded suspiciously like Eddie Munson started whispering in Latin.

From the opposite wing, you saw Ronnie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant head to their places, fixing their ear-ins. It was clear the crowd hadn’t seen them yet, as entranced by the opening sequence as you were.

“You try to run, but they’re catching up.”

The video glitched, showing all the members running through a forest. They were clothed in medieval clothing, all dark and stormy. Intense makeup and headpieces.

“What will you do?”

Behind them, you could see dark figures sprinting, catching up before a horde barreled towards them from the front.

“Do you believe you have a chance?”

All four of them looked scared, surrounded in a circle as the camera panned around each face. One by one, they pulled out weapons and shields.

“They’re trying to control you!” the voice screeched. “They are corruption. They are filth.”

The camera panned up, showing an animated drawing of Eddie as a red demon from above the clouds layered on top of the real footage of the sky. His mouth moved along to the words, his face contorting into an evil grin.

“Only I can lead you to victory.”

And then you saw Eddie slowly rising from underneath the stage. Your heart started hammering in your chest.

“And who am I?” the voice concluded. “Your humble dungeon master.”

The crowd went berserk as the lights illuminated the five figures. Eddie jumped up, laughing as he headed straight into the opening solo for “Humble Dungeon Master.”

“Ah!” Dustin yelped. “Shit, this is my favorite song!”

Eddie was in a beat-up baseball tee with a faded image of a devil and some other objects around it. You barely made out the name Hellfire Club before he was moving further away, getting as close as he could to the crowd.

There’s something about watching Eddie move, swinging his guitar around and falling to his knees on the stage as he played. And you’d be lying if you didn’t find it extremely, extremely hot.

As the final chords sounded, you watched in amazement as everyone in the stands lost their shit. And they weren’t the only ones. Every single person standing with you was going just as wild.

Eddie, with his bangs already drenched in sweat, paused to grab a swig of water before he shouted, “GOOD EVENING!” A roar of applause and hollering ensued. “Tonight is a very special night, Indianapolis,” Eddie added, dramatically lowering his voice. “Do you know why?”

The entire stadium lost their shit again, causing Eddie to look back at the rest of the band. They were just as happy as him, beaming with pride and laughter.

“That’s fucking right! This is our home state, and, by proxy, you are our home. I don’t want to see a single fucking person not having a good time, alright? Jump in the pit, shred your vocal cords, whatever the fuck you need to do. Just promise us you’ll go as hard as you possibly can. And stay safe, of course. Can you do that, Indianapolis?”

The crowd’s reaction was deafening, even with your earplugs. You still heard every note, every breath.

“Let’s go!” Eddie yelled before starting the opening riff to “Fire Shroud”.

You mouthed along to the words, bopping your head along. It seemed comical, the way all eight of you were moving the same way to the beat. For a moment, you forgot your fame. You forgot that you were a well-known stranger to these people. You forgot your place in this world.

And it was then that you caught Jeff’s eyes, watching a grin spread on his face. You returned it with a thumbs-up and watched as he got Grant and Gareth’s attention before nodding over at you.

For a moment, you really felt part of something special.

Before you could process what was happening, Ronnie delved into a solo of her own. She earned a reaction unlike any other, the stadium booming with something resembling electricity. Eddie then came in, his picking following her beat perfectly. And then Jeff and Gareth came in, followed by Grant.

“Challenger” was one of your favorites. You couldn’t help but take a few steps forward, past the kids. Clasping your hands, you rested them against your chest.

Because the realization had hit you. They hadn’t stopped playing. They had just transitioned into the next song.

And it was incredible, the way the mosh pit opened wider than you’d ever seen before. A hurricane created by hordes of people, all stomping. All singing. All laughing. Helping people up, keeping everyone safe. You saw nothing but happy faces. Happy people.

You were hypnotized.

Well, until your trance was broken by a crew member telling you to stay back. You quickly complied, ending up between Max and Lucas. Scott was already right there next to you, shoulder to shoulder.

After another song, Eddie gestured for everyone to settle down before clearing his throat.

“Hey, I really wanna thank all our friends from our shitty little hometown who came out tonight,” he said, nearly out of breath. He turned to look at the group, waving. “Hey guys! Yeah, it’s really kind of them to come support—” He paused as his eyes finally found you there.

Time seemingly stopped existing.

It was the way you connected then, the world disappearing. The stage, the people. There was only you, him, and the harsh breaths leaving both of your mouths. A gleam sitting right there in his eyes, mirroring yours.

You found yourself grinning as you noticed his eyes widen.

“Um,” he tried to continue. “That-that they came to support me and the rest of our incredible band.”

You gave him a quick wave.

He waved back at you dumbly, a nervous laugh leaving his lips. The crowd continued to applaud, blissfully unaware of what was happening.

But you did.

And he was standing there in front of nearly seventy-thousand people, tongue-tied beyond belief because of you. Jesus Christ, he was making you dizzier by the minute.

“This next one’s for you guys.”

Quickly, Eddie collected himself, giving you a smirk before he took the neck of his guitar and looked back at the crowd.

“You sure you ain’t dating?”

You turned to look at Scott, a bewildered expression on your face. He only chuckled at you, nearly giggling before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the performance.

He was only teasing you. And yet, it started a fire in your mind. No, it set you on fire. Who was this man to affect you the way he did? What business did he have to pull you towards him, an invisible string of rope tethering you together?

And why was it working?

Slowly, you turned your head back to watch Eddie.

As they ran offstage (after a stellar encore), you watched Eddie greet his friends, all sweaty and giddy. Play-wrestled with Dustin and roughhoused both Mike and Lucas. Exchanged a special handshake with Max. Steve, Nancy, and Robin were next, earning the highest of praises and chuckling at some joke Robin made.

You hung back, not wanting to get in anyone’s way. After all, you were just a guest. Practically a stranger to Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin. And you never felt it more than when you watched Ronnie Ecker walk right past you, even when you’d offered a greeting.

Drenched in sweat with dark clothes and an even darker expression on her face. Despite the overwhelming excitement Jeff, Grant, and Gareth had shown you, Ronnie seemed far from it. It was as if you were invisible to her despite meeting her two weeks ago. She’d even complimented you. Made you feel elated. Nearly gave her stamp of approval.

Yet there she was, just walking away. Like you were just a ghost, a transparent figure that was too inconvenient for her to acknowledge.

But when you turned back to the group, you noticed Eddie’s eyes shift to you.

And the fear was swept away.

He skipped, literally skipped, over to you, grabbing onto your elbows and shaking you.

“What the hell are you doing here!” he exclaimed. You giggled as he jostled you around. “I didn’t know you were in town. How’d you even get back here?”

“I have my ways,” you replied with a smirk, not-so-subtly looking over at Jeff.

Eddie followed your eyes, nearly gawking at the man. But Jeff said nothing, chuckling to himself as he handed Eddie a towel and walked off.

When Eddie turned his attention back to you, his excitement bubbled over, tilting his head towards the ceiling. “Aghhhh!”

And his energy was rubbing off on you, a permanent smile on your face. He was genuinely happy to see you, wasn’t he?

You laughed before mimicking him. “Aghhhh!”

You stared at each other, faces lit up like goddamn Christmas lights.

“But seriously! Why’re you here?”

“Just seeing you, actually,” you admitted. “I guess I didn’t mention that I’m also on tour right now.”

“Oh, fuck, that’s right. Uh, how long are you here?” he asked, suddenly shy as he came down from his high. He removed his hands as he continued to blot himself with his towel. “‘Cause I’m, like, hanging out with my friends for the next few days and if you wanted, you could come along.”

The mere idea of Eddie wanting you to hang out with him and his friends after only seeing each other once was making your head spin. He really meant that?

“I would love to, but I’m only here until tomorrow afternoon.”

His face fell. “Oh, fuck. Okay. Are you, uh, staying anywhere? ‘Cause, you know, if you wanted. Um. I, uh,” he stumbled, continuing to wipe sweat off his neck as if his hair wouldn’t just drench it again. “You know, I’ve got the bus, but I share it with the guys and Ronnie. And, well, we could hang with them. If you wanted. But only if you—”

“You can come stay with me,” you interrupted, stifling a giggle at his flustered ramblings. “I’ve got a hotel room a couple blocks over.”

“Just us?” he questioned, a goofy grin reaching his lips.

Nodding, you felt your heart stammering in your chest. You were really doing this, weren't you?

“Yeah, just us.”

When you entered the hotel lobby, Eddie headed straight down the hall towards the vending machines. With you in tow, he kept a hand on your back as if he didn’t want you to feel left out of his plans. As if he wanted you there. As if he cared.

One after the other, he swiped his card as the machine buzzed and whined. The candy and bags of chips fell slowly, giving you a chance to stare at him. He was a vision to behold in the glow of the vending machines, his bangs nearly dry from his post-stage shower and dark eyes more concentrated than you’d seen them before.

“You could’ve ordered room service, you know,” you said, finally breaking the silence.

“I like to get my own,” he explained. “Makes me feel more like a person.” You nodded, unable to judge. Sometimes you felt the same way. “Want anything?”

You couldn’t help but nod, reaching for your wallet in your purse. “Yeah, I can get my own, though—”

Eddie placed his hand over yours. “No, sweetheart, it’s alright. You came all the way out here. Least I can do is buy you a candy bar.” As the words left his lips, your stomach growled. “Have you eaten anything?”

You shook your head, feeling sheepish. “Uh, no. I’m, like, on this diet for tour. I think I’d be nearly eviscerated if my personal trainer knew I was about to eat junk food.”

“What diet?” he asked.

Your eyes tried to find anywhere else to look, but you were trapped under his gaze. God, how the fuck did he do this to you?

“I basically don’t have any sugar which is the absolute worst. Berries, vegetables. Nuts even though I fucking hate it. Egg whites, never just eggs. Salads. And I, like, load up on protein before a show but she kinda encouraged me to do intermittent fasting when I can. So, I do that whenever I’m not performing.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Inter-what fasting?”

You could feel the heat reaching your face, embarrassment flooding your system. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tried to hide your stomach. “Intermittent fasting. It’s, like, fasting off and on between meals or days. Like, go one day where you’re not eating much while the next day you load up on food.”

Eddie looked away for a moment, as if he was trying to process the information before cocking an eyebrow at you. “So that’s just, like, starving yourself with a fancier name.”

That caused you to let out a nervous laugh, feeling the desire to hide from him. It wasn’t like he was wrong, and that’s what made it worse.

“Sorry but fuck that.”

Shrugging, you stated, “Just the life of a female popstar. What can I say?”

Eddie gave you a glance, one that felt like exposure. Felt like he knew exactly what you were saying. Felt like he was seeing through the barriers you were trying to put up. But he immediately replaced it with a slight smile and a bump to your shoulder.

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

After you told him what you wanted, you stated, “You’re friends with a bunch of high schoolers.”

His eyes flickered over at you, leaned up against the wall with your arms still crossed.

“Does it help that they graduate in t-minus two days?”

“Maybe,” you said, all amused and teasing.

“Dustin, Lucas, and Mike were in my Dungeons and Dragons club,” he explained. “Max just kinda fell in there. So did Lucas’ sister, Erica, but she still has an early curfew, so.”

“So, you’re like a big brother?” you assumed.

“Something like that.” Eddie shrugged before straightening up. Definitely tried not to seem insecure as he moved his foot back and forth. “Why? Is that a turn off?”

You kicked his foot with yours. “No, I think it’s cute.”

And he was right back to himself, relaxing. “Cute, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip.

As he started handing you your half of the junk food, he asked, “Wanna see how cute I can be?”

Just like that, your heart was speeding again.

Nearly squirming in your jeans, you nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie stepped a little closer, nose brushing your forehead as he gave a swift kiss. You couldn’t help but shiver, feeling his lips move down towards your ear.

“I gotta get you out of that Beatles shirt first,” he teased.

It only made the wetness pooling in your underwear even worse. You backed away from him, shaking your head at the devilish grin forming on his face.

“I’ll lead the way.”

“Tell me something true,” Eddie whispered, pulling the white duvet further up his chest.

You instinctively did the same, readjusting your head on the pillow. After having sex with Eddie that was more than just cute, you’d resigned to lying in the dark. Heads resting on pillows, facing each other. Finally bitten by the chill of the A/C after the overwhelming heat had consumed your flesh.

And there was just something about making eye contact with him that kept you there. Unable to move. Unable to run away. Unable to remove the mark he was ultimately starting to make on you.

Because you thought about his question, the way it drew you closer to revealing secrets that no one else knew. Not even your previous exes. There was just something about him, something about how you felt.

“I had someone coach my Southern accent out of me,” you admitted.

“Why?”

“So people would take me seriously. People think that if you’re from the South, you’re an idiot.” Eddie looked a little sad, but you tried to shrug it off. “I have one sometimes, but that’s usually when I’m really, really upset and can’t, like, turn it off.”

“There goes my next question.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, reaching over to brush his curls behind his ear. “Trust me, it’s embarrassing. You’d cringe immediately.”

“I highly doubt that,” he whispered, taking your wandering fingers in his and squeezing slightly. “I think all of you is amazing.”

His words melted you instantly, having to close your eyes for a moment to really take it in. Were you really this smitten?

“What about you?” you asked. “Something true.”

“My mom died when I was young,” he said without hesitation. Your eyes widened. “And then my dad went to jail for some bullshit. Got killed after he got out.”

His words struck you somewhere deep inside, in a cavern that you didn’t realize existed. It was like you felt the weight of his grief radiating off him. It was a kind of heaviness that you weren’t sure you’d experienced before.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I, uh.” He shook his head. “My uncle, Wayne, was the only one who stepped in to help me. We lived in a trailer park and everything.”

“Why wasn’t he here tonight?”

“He passed away about a year and a half after we got big.” The ache only got worse. “I’d finally got him away from working his ass off and bought him a house. He was so excited about living in a house, you know? Not so close to other people. A stocked fridge. But he started getting sick, like really sick, and he just…didn’t wake up one day.”

“Eddie,” you whispered.

But he just gave you a sad smile. “I kept the house I bought him, you know. I keep it exactly how it was when he was alive. Makes it a little easier sometimes.”

“That’s awful,” you said, wiping a tear rushing down his nose and over his trembling lips. “Thank you for telling me that.”

“Yeah,” he replied, sniffling before he laughed at himself. “I guess you’re not getting the best me, huh?”

You ignored the self-inflicted jab. “What is something you loved about Wayne?”

His eyes widened for a moment before they softened. “Oh, uh.” Eyes began to glaze over, clearly lost in some memory. “He had this mug collection. So ridiculous. Every time he made it to a show, he got a new one at the airport. Eventually, I just started adding mugs to our merch line to keep him from going crazy. But he had this Garfield mug that was my favorite.”

“Garfield?” you questioned, chuckling.

A hearty laugh left his lips, the sound sending your heart into a flurry.

“The one and only.” His smile brought yours back. “Pretty awesome, right?”

“I love it,” you whispered, moving your hand back to his hair. Taking him in. Drawing him back into you as if you’d lose him the moment the morning came. But for now, he was all yours. You were all his. And as much as it was starting to unnerve you, you knew that there was still an unspoken acknowledgement about what this was.

It wasn’t a promise.

Just a mere possibility of one.

And you’d never admit it, but a part of you hoped he’d never leave.

Mid May, 2024

Knock, knock.

“Yeah?” you asked, adding one last swipe of red lipstick.

It was Scott who opened the door, already fit with a hesitant expression. “Hey, hun,” he started. “You’ve got a visitor outside.”

“Who?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Corroded Coffin himself.”

This struck you as odd. It’d only been, what, five days since you saw him in Indiana? And now he was miraculously here, trying to see you before your set started?

“He’s here?”

“Mhm.”

“Right now?”

“Yep, and he wants to come in.”

“Okay, yeah,” you said, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Let him in.”

Scott gave you a glance, his lips seemingly vanishing underneath his mustache. It was a look of caution, of protection. “You sure, honey?”

You rapidly nodded. “Scout’s honor!”

After a quick nod, he disappeared.

And without a beat, Eddie was taking a comical side-step, standing straight and tall at the frame of the door. He was clad in a Rolling Stones t-shirt covered with his signature leather jacket and black jeans. All chains and boots and Eddie.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said before pulling a bouquet of pink roses from behind his back.

You looked down at the beautiful floral arrangement, heat flooding your cheeks. He’d gotten you flowers?

“My god,” he added. Your eyes went back up to his face, watching his dark irises wandering down your body. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

You looked down at your baby blue bodysuit, dripping in glitter and sequins. A sweetheart bust, sinching at your waist. A set of tights underneath white thigh-high socks held up by a garter belt. A pair of white block heels.

“Oh, thanks,” you whispered.

And, yeah, you already knew you looked fucking fantastic. You chose the outfit. But the way Eddie was looking at you now, marveling you, it filled you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

Clearing your throat, you took the flowers from him. “What’re you doing here?”

He moved past you into the room, taking in the space as he turned back to meet your eyes. “Embarrassing myself to try and see you,” he said, giving you a sheepish expression. “Have you ever tried the whole ‘Do you know who I am’ thing on people? Trust me, it’s as humiliating as it sounds.”

A chuckle left your lips. “You could’ve told me! I would’ve gotten you a pass.”

“But it wouldn’t have been a surprise, would it?”

You rolled your eyes, going back to your chair by the vanity. Eddie sat down on the edge of the dirty green couch across from you. Laid his head on the armrest like a dog, looking up at you from under those pretty bangs and even prettier lashes of his.

“Is this some kind of Romeo complex?” you teased.

Eddie took the bait, his dimples deepening as he leaned in further. Batting his eyes, he asked, “Does that make you my Juliet?”

“Did you really come here just to flirt with me?”

He sat up, twisting himself around to actually sit on the armrest. Fiddled with his fingers.

“Well, my tour ended.”

“It did, did it?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, quirking up his eyebrows. “And I find it peculiar that your tour ends in two weeks, butyou have next week off.” Your head tilted in confusion. “And I was thinking that, uh, if you’re in California, we could hang out. If you’d like.”

Biting back a grin, you asked, “You want to spend more time with me?”

Eddie leaned in closer to you, nearly beckoning you towards him.

Voice all hushed, saying, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I think I’d like that,” you whispered, drawing closer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Knock, knock.

“It’s time to go!” Scott exclaimed from behind the door.

Both of you stood, but not before you caved and gave his cheek a quick peck. And before you could give him a chance to respond, you were skipping out of the door.

You performed the best you ever had that night.

It was strange, the way every smile you bore was genuine. There was no true performance added that night. No, you were running on a high that seemed far beyond your comprehension. And it gave you a feeling that maybe that’s what Eddie had felt the other night.

But you had next to no time to think about it when you were rushed offstage and immediately found him in the wings. It surprised you, truly. Unlike Eddie’s stage, yours was more theatrical, with dancers and props and platforms and guitars and pianos and ukuleles—

Essentially, you were not near him at all during your set.

So, when you saw him standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, you couldn’t help but grin and approach him. You thought about hugging him, but restrained yourself. This was a guy you still barely knew. Even Scott seemed to find the whole thing a little odd. And, sure, maybe it was on the outside.

But to you, it just made perfect sense.

God, you felt like a goddamn teenager. A damn child on the playground, running around in a bashful haze. A chase that wasn’t really a chase. If anything, Eddie was giving in to whatever this was. Spending the whole night in his arms, whispering about your lives and the plans you’d made for the upcoming week.

And when you woke up before him, you leaned over to apply your travel-sized Miss Dior perfume. You rearranged your hair, your wrinkled nightgown. Situated yourself back next to him and closed your eyes.

“Did you just…put on perfume?” No response. “I just saw you, you know. Saw the whole fucking thing.” Eddie leaned over, nuzzling his head in your neck. Moaned. “You do smell ravishing, though. Is that Dior?”

Your eyes flew open. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Ah, look, I caught ya,” he said, causing you to groan and throw your hands over your face. “I like to smell the little perfume and cologne samplers in the magazines, you know?”

You finally looked at him, all droopy-eyed and goofy smile.

“Oh, you’re smart.”

“It’s interactive,” he responded with a shrug. “Can’t pass it up.”

You dressed in silence, making sure his wet jacket had dried without any damage. But before he left, he had the fucking nerve to give your neck one last kiss.

“Don’t try to make yourself something else in the morning.” One last inhale of your scent. “All I want is you, sweetheart. And I want it all.” One last graze of his teeth against your skin. “Don’t hide from me next week, alright?”

One last nod.

One last embrace.

One more moment leaving you in disarray.

You spent the entire week the two of you had off together. And it wasn’t just “hanging out.” No, it was playing card games. Sitting on your balcony with glasses of wine. Watching movies. Making breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Shared baths and poolside kisses at his house. Meeting his cats and hanging out with Jeff who lived nearby. Sunrises and sunsets.

And in that time, you tried to find things about him that were cringey. Gross. Unsettling.

But it was…impossible.

And on that Friday, you thought you had it. Eddie had ended up back in your California home, tangled beneath the sheets for three hours before you officially tapped out.

He’d turned to you, holding up a joint and his lighter.

“Do you wanna smoke?” he asked.

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

As you threw on a tank top and shorts, you glanced over at his phone resting on the bedside table. You noticed that his phone case was deep charcoal, smattered with tiny red dice, a throne, and a crown. Right there in the center was his band’s name.

That’s it, you told yourself. He’s secretly self-absorbed and thinks too highly of himself. Massive ego. Absolutely insufferable behind closed doors.

But when you turned and asked, he looked…slightly embarrassed?

“It must seem so pretentious, right?” he said, pulling up his gray sweatpants. “I know. But really, I just like the cool art. I worked with the artist about a year ago and, I don’t know, I think it’s fucking awesome. And I got the whole band matching ones with little individual stuff to match their D&D characters.” He smiled as he spoke. “The guys got so excited. They’ve all got ‘em still.”

He shrugged, plugging it into the charger.

“That’s…actually really cool,” you said truthfully.

“Yeah?” He turned back. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Not when it means something to you,” you replied. “I just wish you’d be a little bit awful.”

That’s when you saw him smile, taking a step forward. “Why’s that?��

“So I have a reason not to like you as much as I do,” you said.

And you hated yourself for saying it. But there was just this thing he did where he made you tell the truth. It wasn’t even an impulse; it was as if it was instinct. Like your body didn’t have a choice. It just knew.

“I can be gross if you need a reason to go,” he suggested. “But just so you know, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s so gross about you?”

“Uh, I pick my nose.”

“Like everyone else.”

“I have the most iconic burps but the deadliest farts.” You couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips. “I’m awful about doing my own laundry. I have a lot of ass hair. Like, it’s almost a problem. My nails are wrecked from all the guitar playing.” He lifted his fingers, showing off his chipped polish and crooked fingernails. “Oh, and if I eat even, like, a bite of a burrito, I’m in the bathroom for an hour.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. He really was just a normal person.

“Let’s go outside,” he suggested. “If I don’t have a joint and a cigarette, I think I might fall over and die.”

You followed him, heading down the wooden stairs, all the while saying, “You shouldn’t smoke cigarettes. Your poor little metal vocal cords must be suffering.”

Eddie threw up his hands. “Hey, I went down from five a day to one. Doesn’t that count for literally anything?”

“The jury’s still out,” you teased. “Also, for the record, I don’t think your ass is too hairy.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen it unwaxed, sweetheart.”

You opened the French doors. “I shiver at the thought of that being someone’s job.”

“Oh no?” he asked from behind you, grabbing your ass. You yelped as he added, “You don’t wanna do it next time?”

“Absolutely not.”

You grew quiet as you lit up, Eddie showing off his special lighter. It was a different look for him, some kind of flower sprouting from an orange liquid. Tangerine bulbs. A sage green top with a golden rim. A gift from his uncle, he told you. Given to him after his father died.

“Can I ask something true?” you asked as soon as he was done explaining.

You couldn’t understand why you felt so nervous to have questions. It was all you ever did these days, in between kisses and meals. During cheesy rom-coms and horror films. In the shower, over text. Anything and everything seemed to be laid out in front of you, no matter what. Eddie was an open book.

“Always,” he answered.

“Do you think about your parents a lot?” you asked.

“Not always,” he responded. “I mainly just wonder what their relationship was like.”

“What do you mean?”

“We kinda fall in line with what our parents lay out for us, don’t we?” he questioned, taking another hit. “Like, I’ve never had a relationship last or really had something special. And my parents had to be happy some of the time at least. Right?”

You didn’t say anything, still trying to follow his train of thought.

“I have to wonder if, like, we just end up as unhappy as them. Like, in the end, we really do die all alone. We’re not built to stay happy.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t think you could be happy with someone long-term?”

The pit in your stomach worsened as you realized you were really asking, You don’t think you could be happy long-term with me?

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I just have always felt like, when I die, I’ll look back and realize that I never got the chance to be someone’s first choice.”

Before you could think, you said, “Maybe you just haven’t been given the chance.”

He looked at you.

And there was that spark, crackling in your abdomen. In your fingers. In your head. That moment when you knew that this had become something more. You’d gone on and on, day after day with his body here, his hands and fingertips lingering on every surface. Sitting at your kitchen table. Fingers pressed against buttons on remotes. Another set of hands to help you make the bed.

This man who you couldn’t help but feel a certain word towards.

That dangerous fucking word you’d never utter to yourself.

Eddie blinked several times before he became very interested in his socked feet. So you looked down, watching him fidget by wiggling his toes.

“You doing anything fun after tour?”

“I’m going to Pittsburg to see a few of my friends,” you explained. “We’ll probably go to some frat party.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “A college party?”

You shrugged, taking the joint. “They all go there. It’s actually fun to pretend I actually went.”

“Can’t blame you,” he said with a nod. “I didn’t get my GED until, like, a year after we really got big.”

Eyes widening, you nearly coughed out your hit. “Really?”

“Yeah. Fuck high school.”

You nodded. “Fuck high school indeed.”

“Don’t miss me too much while you’re out being a cool college kid.”

You snorted. “Oh, wow. Playing the missing game?"

“Why, you scared you’ll lose?”

You shrugged, shying away from him. But he had other plans, resting his hands on your hips before bringing you closer. Lips meeting the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I have a feeling you’ll never say it, but I will. I think you’re gonna win.”

“What makes you so sure?” you whispered back, breath hitching in your throat as he left a trail of kisses down your neck. The high was intensifying the sensation, each touch more sensitive than the last. You didn’t last long, mewling in his arms as you felt yourself go limp.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he murmured, tightening his grasp on you. “You don’t even have to tell me. I just know.”

Eddie had to leave soon after that, needing to feed his cats.

You didn't mind, still out on the balcony. Deep in thought as the world hazed around you. And as soon as you were left to your own devices to parse your emotions, they began to swallow you.

See, you wouldn’t consider yourself a train wreck. No, you’d already been around too many. Something in you considered yourself the wreckage, the carnage in the aftermath. A burning storm, a flurry of ash. Standing in the center, surrounded by the flames. Who would come back to you after all that? Who would stand by you while you put yourself back together again? And who would stay?

There was no dark side to Eddie, no indication that there was something wrong with him. He had his moments, sure, but he was human. He was bound to have things that faltered. It never made you feel like there was something to send you running. And maybe that’s what was starting to hurt the most. Because what if someone caught you? What if someone had seen you in Vegas? Indianapolis? Seattle?

And it was in that moment, as you stared up at the moonlight, that you realized that this secret was the only thing keeping you together. What happened next if the press found you out? If the world looked at you, the woman who dated everyone, standing hand-in-hand with him, the man who dated everyone. Where would you be able to stand? Would it be a foundation you could build together? Or would one of you eventually find it too hard to cope with?

Would Eddie still stay?

You sighed, shoving your hands into your pockets. But your fingers wrapped around something lightweight, pulling it out to find Eddie’s lighter.

You grabbed your phone and texted him.

You left your lighter!

His response was immediate.

keep it safe for me, sweetheart. i’ll come back for it. and you. promise.

credit to @strangergraphics for this divider because it inspired me so heavily :')

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar!Eddie x reader #rockstar!Eddie x you #modern!Eddie x you #boyfriend!Eddie x reader

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storiesbyjes2g · 20 days

Text

3.104 Concerns

I woke up thinking about how bummed Sophia was about not being able to go to the beach in Tartosa. I mean, I was too, but it seemed to hit her especially hard. No one else I knew loved the water more than her—not even Yasmine, who declared herself a "water baby." I got a brilliant idea in the shower that was sure to make Sophia happy and presented it to her at breakfast.

"Let's go to the lake in San Sequoia. We can invite my dad and Alessia and make a family day of it."

Her eyes were as bright as Winterfest lights, and I gave myself a pat on the back.

"Yeeees, that's a great idea! Wait, your sister is still here?"

"Yeah. Apparently she's not going back. She wasn't as happy over there as she thought she'd be." I snorted at a new thought. "Plus, she probably met some loser here."

"Luca!"

"What? She's not exactly in the market for quality men right now."

"Still. You haven't met him yet and already labeled him a loser. It isn't nice."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Stop!"

I chuckled and reached for the phone to inform Dad about my plan, but he advised against it. A thunderstorm plagued the area, so once again, the weather dashed our beach plans. But Dad countered and suggested a family movie day instead, so we all braved the storm and headed to Anchorpoint Wharf.

I thought the movie was funny, but Sophia said it bored her, which surprised me, seeing as she was the token goofball of the two of us.

After the movie, we hung out at Dad's house for a bit. Alessia caught us up in her life, and just as I suspected, she had met someone; I knew her so well. Apparently, they met at our party. They were at the bar and noticed they were both doing the exact same thing. She had this weird ritual she did in restaurants where she wiped down glasses, utensils, plates, and whatever her mouth or food touched. He was doing it too, and they locked eyes. The way she talked about this dude was different. Usually, she didn't care to get to know the poor fellas on this roster, and we never got any details about them. But her tone was so giddy it intrigued me. Could he be the one to break down her wall? I knew my dad hoped so. He really wanted to walk her down the aisle.

I realized we hadn't heard from Sophia in a while, so I turned around to check on her. She had droopy eyes and a frown, and everything inside me wanted to panic. But she wouldn't want me to do that in front of them. When I found an appropriate place to make our exit, I took it and ushered her and the dogs back home. Once we made it inside, we settled in the office to talk. It seemed like all our important talks occurred in there recently.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you feeling alright? What can I do??"

She shifted in her seat and looked everywhere except in my eyes, alarming me even more.

"I, umm... I'm concerned."

"About Alessia?"

"About getting pregnant."

My throat tightened, and I swallowed a few times to keep it open.

"Oh..."

Her confession lingered in the air like steam after a shower, and I wasn't sure what to say or do.

"I've taken a pregnancy test every day since the engagement," she said, still not making eye contact with me. "I know these things take time, but... It should have happened by now! My birthday is way too close, Luca. I'm running out of time."

I was in such a weird spot. I wanted to hold her and tell her to keep the faith, but this was bad news for me, too. She wasn't the only one looking forward to bringing a baby into the world. But it was her body going through that, not mine. And as much as it hurt to hear that, I still had a level of detachment she didn't have.

"Is there something we can do?" I asked. "I mean...is there...a test or something for that?"

Finally, she looked at me as if awakening from a trance.

"Yeah, actually. There is." She shook away those sad feelings and sprang into action. "I'll make an appointment right now. I guess I've been too flustered to think straight. I could have done this days ago."

She called her doctor and scheduled an appointment for the next afternoon. When she hung up, I finally embraced her like I wanted to and told her everything would be okay. I didn't know how true that was, but I had to believe it for the both of us.

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #tw: infertility

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rogueddie · 10 months

Text

Climax / Decide (Free Space)

The hospital room that Max is staying in is never silent, the humming of machines and the beep of the heart monitor constantly filling the space. But it's always quiet. Even when Lucas visits, reading and talking to her. He speaks softly, voice almost drowned out by the machine.

They don't want to risk hearing anything. They wait, on bated breath.

Steve has taken permanent residence in one of the chairs, pulled up close to the bed so he can hold her hand- it's the only way he's able to get to sleep anymore.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of the nurse greets, voice so hushed that she may as well whisper. She's holding Steves blanket, freshly washed. "The showers are free too, if you want to get washed up."

"Max," is all he manages to say in response.

"I'll stay and keep an eye on her. I need to check how she's doing anyway."

"Thank you."

She's one of the nurses that is supposed to coax him back to his own room. She never has though, only insisting that he takes regular showers and that she regularly change his bandages.

He can never remember her name. He's sure he'll feel bad about that later, but he doesn't have the energy.

The showers aren't great, and he doesn't have any of his skin or hair products. He barely has the energy to stand under the water, nevermind clean properly.

He's exhausted. And, looking in the mirror as he tries to style his freshly cleaned hair, he can see it.

His eyes look almost purple, sunken into his face. Even his cheeks look hollow. Thin. Something about him almost lifeless.

It feels like years since he went to the school, to help the relief efforts with Robin and Dustin.

Eyeing himself, looking at himself fully over, he has to wonder how he managed to act like everything was ok for as long as he did. He's not sure, in retrospect, how he even managed to stay on his feet.

"Alright?" The nurse smiles when he gets back.

"Yellow," he answers.

She nods, gestures for him to perch on Max's bed so she can check for herself.

He left the bandages off, tossed in one of the hospital bins. He's not sure why he still needs them- sure, his wounds are still bad, but they're not as colorful as they were when he collapsed.

"You're doing so much better," the nurse comments. "You'll probably be allowed to go home soon."

"No," he responds. He turns to Max.

She would be alone. Lucas can't stay all the time and, with the gates open, everyone is busy. He can't leave her alone, knowing that she wouldn't have anyone who truly loves her there when she wakes.

"Ok," the nurse sighs. "A couple weeks. That's as long as we can keep you."

It's not enough, but it's more than he could ask for.

"Thank you."

"Don't," she shakes her head. She pats his shoulder as she pulls back- he hadn't even noticed that she'd started wrapping a new bandage around him. "I have a baby sister. I'd be losing my mind if I couldn't be with her."

"I'm not-" Steve tries.

"You are," she smiles. "Maybe not by blood, but I've seen how you are with her. I know family when I see it."

He doesn't know what to say. She doesn't seem bothered though- she never is. She gives him another pat, before heading out.

Steve moves back to his seat, taking hold of Max's hand again, mulling over her words.

She's right, he knows. Not that he'd ever say it to Max, could never take that spot, but he finally admits it to himself.

She's his sister. She, and the other kids, are his real family.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve & max #ficlet #decideweekprompt

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nancys4gf · 2 years

Text

knowing me, knowing you | steve harrington, jonathan byers

— knowing me, knowing you, there is nothing we can do. knowing me, knowing you, we just have to face it, this time we're through. Abba, Knowing Me, Knowing You.

summary: you get cursed by vecna, but your boyfriend doesn’t know your favorite song. someone else saves you instead.

pairing: steve harrington x female reader | jonathan byers x female reader

warnings: angst

note: i couldn't sleep and i kept thinking of jonathan being painfully in love with his best friend, so i wrote this to break my own heart. also, the reader's favorite song implies something about the story 👀 and there's a little ambiguity about the interpretation of the last scene. maybe i'll write a part two?? idk. anyways, i hope you enjoy!!!

̟ ̇.˚︵‿୨♡୧‿︵˚.✩

“stay with me, please, stay with me,” steve urged, shaking your shoulders, wanting nothing more than the color to come back to your eyes, now white and rolled back into your head.

“what’s her favorite song?” dustin shouted. “steve, what’s her favorite song?!”

“i don’t–” steve screamed back, exasperated. “i don’t know!”

“think!” robin chimed in.

but he couldn’t. the only thing he could do was shake you and scream for you to wake up, even though he knew it was no use at all. he looked at his friends, a silent plea in his desperate, wide eyes.

“i don’t…”

“knowing me, knowing you. abba.” it was jonathan who spoke.

“are you sure?” steve demanded.

“i’m sure.” jonathan snapped. “she always used to dance to it with her mom when she was a kid.”

steve nodded frantically, but it was dustin and lucas who started searching through the different tapes, while max screamed at them to hurry up.

“here!” lucas cried out, and jonathan put the headphones in your ears.

right after abba started playing, you suddenly got off the ground, hovering in the air with open arms. all of your friends backed away in horror, but jonathan couldn’t move, only being able to scream your name.

“no, no, please,” steve cried from the ground. “come back to me, come back.”

seeing you up there, hanging in the air as if your body was merely a lifeless doll that looked too much like you, but wasn’t really you, jonathan byers had never felt more scared.

you couldn’t leave him. not when you still hadn’t formed your crappy band with a crappy name and crappy songs. not when he still hadn’t taken pictures of you graduating, on your first day of college, getting your first apartment. not when he still had so many things to say to you.

jonathan knew you were loved by many. he saw it in your friends' terrified faces, who would do anything in their power to save you. and he knew you deserved all of that and more. but recognizing his own raw pain in steve harrington’s screams and in the way he prayed for your life, made jonathan feel venomous.

he didn’t even know your favorite song. or the reason why it was so special to you. he was sure steve didn’t know the way you liked to eat your ice cream (mixed-up until it was almost melted, and then with cereal on top). nor your favorite poem, which he had once memorized for your birthday, and still couldn’t forget.

he knew steve loved you. but jonathan also knew he loved you better.

abba was playing as if from far, far away, when you opened your eyes and fell to the ground, gasping for air. steve already had his arms wrapped around you when jonathan got to your side.

“i’ve got you." he heard steve whisper in your ear, over and over again as he cradled you, hugging and touching every part of you he could reach.

jonathan held on tight to your shaking hand, wrapping it up with both his hands so you knew he was there. so you knew he would always be there.

your voice was weak and broken as you muttered, “don’t let go.”

“never.” steve replied, planting a kiss on your forehead. “never.”

jonathan was used to the ever-present ache in his chest when he saw you with him. but the way you had begged steve not to let go, with pure fear and love in your voice, destroyed him. you were looking for solace and protection in someone that wasn’t him. someone that would never be him.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers imagines #jonathan byers au #jonathan byers angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington au #steve harrington angst #stranger things imagines #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things angst #stranger things 4 #vecna #vecna's curse

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king-zacharyy · 2 months

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Here)

——————————————

"Oh, Maxie.." Steve breathed, pained, as his eyes landed on the prone teen.

"Steve! You should be resting." El said, not getting up from her spot at Max's bedside. Lucas was on her other side, and they were both holding Max's hands.

"Ellie," Steve said on a sigh. Robin wheeled him over to her, and he took her unoccupied hand. "I'm tired of resting. I needed to see my girls. How have you been, kiddo?"

Ellie's head dropped to his shoulder, and she squeezed his hand, practically sagging against him. "Tired. I missed you. I was not happy when I found out you were hurt. Again."

He winced, apologizing, and looked at Lucas. "Lu." He looked up from Max's hand, and Steve could see the tears gathering in his red eyes. "C'mere." He raised his free arm, and Lucas reluctantly let go of Max to tuck into Steve's side.

"She's going to be okay." And he believed that. Max was a fighter, and she had people to return to. "She's going to be okay. We're going to be okay."

Steve took a moment to look around the room, taking note that only Robin, Hopper, and Erica had joined them. It was then that he noticed the lack of one Susan Mayfield.

"Where’s her mom?" Steve asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"We don't know. No one has been able to get in contact with Ms. Mayfield since the earthquake. We're not even sure if she's alive." His dad's answer was enough confirmation in Steve's mind, though.

Susan wasn't doing good after Billy's death, and when Neil Hargrove up and left, she just got worse. She was drinking, he knew, and working all the time, but she loved Max. He knew she did. He could see it every time he talked to her about Max. If she was alive, she'd be here.

He nods and finally takes her in. Her right arm is wrapped in a cast. Little drawings, as well as The Party's names, are all over it in different colored sharpie. It draws a smile out of him. Both of her legs are also in casts, elevated by pillows, and also decorated. The air punched out of his lungs as he took in her face. She had an oxygen mask on, and her skin was pale. Her fire red hair was in two braids, and she looked– small.

Max was never small. Even when face-to-face with a demodog, she never shrank. Even in the face of Billy Hargrove threatening her friends and beating Steve's face in, she stood her ground.

Steve had to choke back a sob, guilt and despair clawing at his throat. This was his fault. It was his fault she got hurt. It was his fault Erica and Lucas got hurt. It was his fault Dustin got hurt. It was his fault Eddie almost died.

He was their protector. He was the one who took the hits. The kids weren't supposed to get hurt. That was his job. What good was he if he couldn't even do that? What reason would everyone have for sticking around if he was so useless?

Maybe it would be better if he had been taken instead of Barb back in '83. Then Nancy would have her best friend, Robin and Erica never would've been dragged into all of this, and Max and Eddie wouldn't be hospitalized right now.

"I can hear your self-deprication from here, Dingus. It's not your fault." Robin's voice snapped him out of his spiral, and he cut her a glare, without any heat behind it.

"It’s no one's fault but Vecna's. And Jason's." Lucas said into his shoulder, and Steve kissed the top of his head in thanks and acknowledgment.

It would probably take a while for him to genuinely believe them, but for now, he pushed the negative thoughts aside. No matter what, he wasn't letting any of the kids get hurt again on his watch. When Max woke up, and she would wake up, he would be there for her.

"Okay, kiddies. I've gotta go check on Eddie and Mike, but I'll be back in here when Robin next allows it. I love you both." He pressed a kiss to both El and Lucas' heads, squeezed them goodbye, and detangled from them with a not-small amount of reluctance.

Robin wheeled him to Max's head so he could press a kiss to her temple and whisper an, "I love you, Maxie. Get better soon, my little zoomer." With that sentiment, he was wheeled out of the room and towards Eddie's room.

"Where'd everyone else go?" He asked Hopper. Erica stayed with her brother, so it was just Robbie and his dad with him now.

"The Byers left to find a place to stay for the night, the Wheelers went with them, and Henderson said he was going to Munson's room."

"Eddie hasn't woken up yet. The doctor said that it might be a while before that happens because of how much blood he lost and the extent of his wounds. Mike was with him, but he was in your room a bit before you woke up. That's all I know so far, though, because I've mostly been with you." Robin added, and Steve's stomach dropped a bit with the news about Eddie.

Before Steve could comment or question further, they reached the room. He felt the last of the tension in his shoulders unwind at the sound of Eddie's heart monitor, secure in the knowledge that everyone in the party was alive.

"Hey, Dust." Robin parked him next to Dustin, where he was sitting in a chair by the bed. The boy immediately sagged into his side, and Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm going to go talk to your doctor and try to find Joyce." His dad said, ruffling his hair and leaving the room. Robin pulled up a seat on his right and clasped his hand in hers.

"So... Are we gonna talk about how you called Hopper 'Dad'?" Steve suppressed the blush that wanted to spread on his cheeks at Dustin's question, and ruffled his hair.

"What’s there to talk about? We're all aware my parents are shit, and over the last year, Hop's been more of Dad than my actual father. He is my dad. In all the ways that matter. And I refuse to be embarrassed about that."

Dustin gave him an analyzing look before nodding and resting his head back on Steve's shoulder.

Steve took a minute to take in Eddie's state and felt the same strangeness as he had with Max earlier.

Throughout the time that Steve had known him– both in school and over the past week– Eddie was in constant motion. From pacing to walking on tables to a bouncing leg to fidling with his rings to restless hands while talking. But he was never still.

Now he was– save for the rise and fall of his chest– motionless. And the last time Steve had seen him motionless was–

Steve's breath caught in his chest, a lump caught in his throat blocking his airway, and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't–

Steve felt this urgent, all-consuming need to feel Eddie's heartbeat, then. As though his own heart would stop beating if he didn't.

It was irrational, he knew. Steve could hear the drumming of his heart in his ears, and the EKG Eddie was hooked up to was beeping without a hitch to be seen or heard, but–

His fingers wrapped around a pale wrist– and when did he let go of Robin's hand?– thumb pressed to the pulse point there and waiting, waiting, waiting until–

Thump ... Thump ... Thump

The roaring in Steve's ears dissipated as his heart slowed to a matching beat, and he could finally breathe, almost like nothing had ever been wrong in the first place.

It should have been surprising, scary even, the speed at which Steve fell for the other man, but in reality? Well, he had known he liked both for a long while, and Steve had always loved hard and fast. Always gave his heart out as easily as someone handed out candy on Halloween. He always gave more than he received, and it always backfired.

(Well– that's not entirely true. It wasn't that way with Robin, but Robin had always been different. Robin was the first– and only– person where the give-and-take was equal. She was his best friend, his sister, his other half, the platonic love of his life. His soulmate. (With a capital P as they always emphasized) His Robbie.)

But– it wasn't like he could help it. No matter how many times his heart got stomped on, no matter how many people did the stomping, he couldn't stop giving his love. Even if he– and said love– was just bullshit.

This time would be different though, he promised. This time, he'd hold his love close to his chest. He'll feel it, but it won't be given. Steve was barely friends with Eddie, and honestly? If that was all he got? Steve thinks he could live. He thinks he could be content. As long as he has Eddie, even if he isn't his.

——————————————

Well, after some sever hiccups in the writing process as well as some writers block and lack of motivation, here is part 3! Don't worry, this is certainly not the last part, I only do Happy endings, nothing sad or hopeful.

——————————————

@thespaceantwhowrites @child-of-cthulhu @plantzzsandpencilzzs @thebadasshistorian @stevesbipanic @daeb820 @flocon-tourne-en-rond @melonmochi

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dollywheeler · 10 months

Text

September 27th, 1996

Dear diary,

I fumbled.

I fumbled and almost made the wrong turn and I could have died.

I could have died on the spot and it would have been less awful.

It's so embarrassing I can barely think back on it, but I can't stop. It keeps playing through my head again and again.

Everything started so great - the gymnasium was loud and colorful and bright, and everything I love about game days.

The gymnasium was crowded too - every student and teacher, and even some of the girls that graduated last June. Hell, mom and dad were there. Of course they are there when I mess up! I wanted them to see how good I was getting, not fumbling around like a complete idiot!

I really don't know what happened; I've never made a mistake like that ever. I'd been so looking forward to it, working so hard to make sure I knew the routine by heart. I should have been able to do it in my sleep.

I just managed to keep it together until the game started up again and I could sneak out into the hallway. I'm sure at least one of the girls saw me leave, but they know I usually do this when I fuck up so they let me be. I haven't needed to since Freshman year - I've been working so hard exactly so this wouldn't happen again.

I still don't know why I do it. Obviously it's better to hide, where no one can see me until my skin stops itching and I stop feeling like everyone is staring at me. But I also know it's counterproductive. I know it just makes me sink deeper into my failure, know that I'll just be miserable and alone if I run away. But I can't stop it - I just can't stand being around that many people anymore.

The last time had been at an away game - some school closer to Chicago that I can't even remember. The best I could do there was some alcove in a dark hallway. At home I knew where to go. It had been a while since I had gone out there, but the bench on the far side of the building was still there, far enough from the gymnasium that it was always quiet and empty. No one wandered far enough from the game to find it.

It was starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple, which was nice but also strange. Usually it's already fully dark out, and it feels like there's more cover. I still felt too exposed now, even sitting there curled up with my arms wrapped around my knees. I'd forgotten my jacket.

"There you are." I jumped at the sudden voice, not expecting anyone to have followed me. Even if I had, the last person I would have expected to see was Mike. He was slightly out of breath as if he'd had to run to catch up to me. I hadn't even noticed he was at the game, though it stood to reason he wouldn't have sat with the other teachers just yet.

He came to a stop in front of me, suddenly slightly awkward as he looked me over. "Hey."

I honestly didn't know what to say so I just stared at him, baffled he was there in the first place. No one ever followed me. And suddenly Mike had appeared out of nowhere, blipped into existence when I had spent the last few years trying to forget he even exists. He's not supposed to exist - just a negative space in the last seven years of my life.

"I know you're not a fan of me but-," he started, fumbling over his words as he inched closer to the bench. "I just wanted to check up on you."

"I didn't even know you were here." I frowned, swallowing against the knot in my throat, my voice shaky even to my own ears. I wanted him to leave. I didn't want to be alone. "I thought you had plans this weekend."

"Uh, yeah - the party's back in town. Well, everyone except Dustin because he has some conference or whatever, but... uh, yeah, we were planning to come to the game. We wanted to come see your show. El and Max are here too. Lucas tried but he's not really a fan of basketball anymore so he left early..."

He rambles a lot, I noticed, sounding nothing like he does when I overhear him talking to just Will. In class, he rambles a lot too, but at least there he's doing so with purpose, knowing what he's saying and when to stop. It made him look awkward and out of place, as if it's me that's making him nervous. As if I'm not just the little sister that's nine years too immature for him, shoved into the corner of the room with a pile of dolls so I'm out of the way.

"Great," I told him, my misery finally making me cave and scooting over to make space for Mike on the bench. He seemed surprised, hesitant still to join me, which I had to admit was kind of funny. Still, I sobered up again quickly enough, a shiver running through me at the memory. "At least one person that didn't see me completely humiliate myself."

"Come on, Holzie." Mike nudged my shoulder, and I was thrown off guard by the new nickname, pulling my attention away from my spinning thoughts. "It really wasn't that obvious. I noticed at least two girls that were out of step the entire routine - you made one tiny mistake that no one will remember."

"It's that I made the mistake at all," I corrected him, and to my dismay and complete mortification, my voice cracked. "I'm not the best if I make stupid mistakes like that. And if I'm not the best I'll never make cheer captain and I'll just be one more girl on the cheerleading team that no one really-" cares about is what I was going to say, but luckily I cut myself off before I could finish. I know it's stupid. Know everyone is important. There's not a girl on the team I wouldn't miss - but that's because they're my friends.

For once I want people to notice me for me. I want to make a mark to people that don't know me at all. Want people to see me, notice me, because of me, not because they already know about me.

Worse, I started crying in front of the last person on earth I wanted to cry in front of. The only person in the world who I've spent my entire life trying to convince I'm not a baby anymore. There's just something about Mike that always makes me feel younger than I am. Inadequate.

"You will," Mike assured me, "no one works harder than you."

I was confused what made him think that. How he would know. It's not something I like to advertise, and it only made me cry harder. Because that's the point - I have to work twice as hard to be half as good as everyone else. Everyone else gets it with the six hours practice we have a week - they're flawless, make no mistakes at all. It's just not fair.

And I'm so tired of trying to catch up.

I desperately tried to wipe my tears away as quickly as possible as we sat in silence for a while, Mike leaning closer and handing me a tissue he pulled from his pocket. For some reason, it always helps me stop crying once I can wipe my face dry, physically putting myself together, so I was grateful even if I was completely embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I used to be good at this," Mike chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as he nudged my shoulder again. "It's been a while."

If he were, I don't remember it.

I told him we should get back inside, even though that was the last thing I wanted to do. But Daniel was still playing, and I couldn't stay gone from the team forever either, so I sucked it up. I just hoped I could stop by the bathroom to make sure I didn't look like a complete nutcase - which was a terrible idea because of course I did, now I just knew exactly how fucked I looked.

Before we entered the gymnasium Mike stopped me.

He told me he'd seen me practicing on the field sometimes.

After everything I seriously couldn't be any more embarrassed so I just shrugged and confirmed it, even though I was confused as to where he was going with it. I also hadn't considered anyone showing up early being able to see me, so it was good to know for the future.

"I know I can't tell you what to do but... please don't practice without the team - at least not the crazy gymnastic jump things." I blinked at him in surprise, perplexed at his request. It's not like I was in anyone's way or bothering anyone, but he explained it was dangerous and didn't want me to fall and get hurt with no one around to get help. And it didn't feel like a scolding - I mean I felt stupid for not having thought about that myself, but for some reason i didn't care about any of that.

I promised I wouldn't anymore, and as we entered the gymnasium I automatically searched out mom and dad. Dad was watching the game, but mom is usually bored by the game itself, so it wasn't a surprise that she'd been looking out for me, immediately noticing us by the door. It stood to reason she'd already deduced Mike had been at the game too, but she seemed content to wait for the dinner to talk to him again because she just smiled at us before looking at the game now she knew we were okay.

Mike asked if I wanted to come sit by him and his friends for a bit. Now I knew to look for them I found them easily enough in the left top corner of the bleachers on their side of the court - Max was the most obvious with her bright hair, and from there it was easy to find Will and El sitting on either side of her. I know El the least out of all of Mike's friends, which I've always found strange because I'm pretty sure they dated at some point and before Mike and Will had moved back, she'd been the one hanging around Hawkins the most often. Even from that far away I could see her expressive features, and she hadn't had those pink streaks in her hair the last time I'd seen her. They suited her.

I'd like to talk to Max again, thank her in person for helping Mike pick out my birthday present, but of course, even if I wanted to take Mike up on his offer, I couldn't, having to go sit with the rest of the team. I could already see Dylan smiling at me and beckoning me closer, so I just dismissed Mike. I thanked him though, because even though he hadn't been much help in making me feel better, it had been nice that he'd followed me. That he'd sat with me.

Maybe tomorrow I'll get my sense back.

For now I'm too worn out to be angry.

At least I think writing has helped me calm down enough from my embarrassment to sleep.

Love, Holly

#holly wheeler #mike wheeler #the third wheeler #stranger things #fanfic #byler #the party #karen wheeler

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annab-nana · 1 year

Note

humming to them so that they fall asleep easier with steve harrington humming to the reader

🥺

warnings: not proofread, stuck in russian elevator, steve being a sweetie pie

❀ masterlist ❀

the last thing you'd expected when dustin pulled you in on helping him and steve decipher russian was to end up in a locked elevator with the pair of boys, robin buckley, and lucas's little sister. but, you'd learned over the course of the last couple of years that things never ended at all how you expected them to.

both erica and dustin used their backpacks as pillows as they laid on the hard floor of the elevator while robin slept where she sat, leaning her head on the shelf beside her. you knew that her neck would be killing her when she woke up eventually, but there was no way to sleep in here without waking with an ache or pain somewhere in your body.

steve was going to stay awake the whole time to watch in case something happened and you weren't going to let him do it alone. to his left, you sat and as time went on, you were really struggling to keep your eyes open.

"you can go to sleep, you know?" steve spoke up from beside you. "i don't think much is going to happen and if you want, i can wake you up after a few hours, but i think i can manage this by myself if you're tired."

"while the offer does sound mighty tempting," you paused when you brought your hand up to cover your yawning mouth, "i know that i won't be able to actually fall asleep. it's too quiet in here for me, not to mention uncomfortable, so i'll be fine staying up with you."

steve seemed to take your answer fine until you yawned again a few seconds later. "how about this? you can lay against me to be more comfortable and i can hum to you. i've got a song stuck in my head anyway."

you looked at him and met his warm brown eyes. "are you sure?"

he shrugged. "why not?" steve spread his legs a little for you to fit between as well as his arms for you to lay in too. he was secretly hoping you'd come over so he'd have the excuse to hold you close to him.

he nearly thought you weren't going to move from your spot and was about to cross his arms over his chest again like he had them previously, but then you moved to sit between his legs and leaned against his chest. with a small smile on his face that you couldn't see, he gently wrapped his arms around you and the weight of them made you feel even sleepier.

your head rested right under his, his chin sitting atop your hair. you could feel the vibrations in his chest and neck coming from the low hums he was making and after a little bit, you started to recognize the song. it was that new tears for fears song, head over heels. since your closest friend was eddie munson, you hadn't heard much of the song, but you had to admit that the way it sounded when steve hummed along to it was actually quite pretty.

you also found it to be very calming. it felt like gravity was pushing you down harder and harder against steve until, thanks to his comfort and gentle hums, you fell asleep.

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington blurbs #blurbs #stranger things #anon #❀ nonnie ❀#winter wonderland sleepover ✧*:･ﾟ

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idjitlili · 2 years

Text

Billy Hargrove x reader

Idle hands are the devils playground

Summary: Billy hating you and you hating billy. But not really, getting close to you after fake dating. Teasing him , having what is stereotypically a 'girls night'plaiting his hair and painting his nails.

Wordcount: 3385

Warning: language, sex references, I don't know what this is came to me at 3am. Showering together with clothes on.

A/n: Still pissed at Max, I thought it was a trick her saying she wanted Billy dead like wtf girl, man, if i was vecna you would've be first you little bitch. SORRY. Also , this is the last imagine before I go away Wednesday till late friday for my birthday! So stay safe and I'll be back soon to write bulltrue p2. :) also uk weather is killing me. NOT MY IMAGES

To say the least you hated Billy, you despised him. Oh, but his feelings for you were similar. Seeing you with Steve every day and those fucking nerds, why would you hang around with them. Why wouldn't you want to be around him? He hated you having a better relationship with Max than he did, even though he didn't try.

Didn't help that he'd see you all the time because you just happened to hangout with Max. He hated how you could brush him off so easily, no one did that to him. After the first few tries of flirting with no interest from you he decided he wouldn't be nice anymore. The whole 'he's mean/teasing you because he likes you.' approach.

If you didn't hate him before you definitely did now. The way he treated the kids, Lucas? For liking his sister? C'mon he was like 12, oh would you rather Max to have no friends? What moves did Lucas have? 'Wanna see my transformers?' Who almost hits kids with their car and beats them up, you know he's like 5,9 but seriously. You were the kids unofficial babysitter alongside Steve, everyone loves a team up, you heard about everything.

And how many times did he beat up Steve up? Gosh darn, keep it in your pants, Steve is very hot doesn't me Billy had to get his attention like that, just bend over.

Like hell you'd accept a date with Billy after all that shit, should've done diy vasectomy when he was done to be honest when he was down, would've saved a lot of girls. Hell, Billy would even agree he just loves getting his pickle tickled. But he hadn't in a while ever since you were constantly plaguing his mind.

So when Billy had came looking for Max again when you were all hanging out at Steve's house because his parents were never home. His anger was out of the roof seeing you not only with Steve but with his step sister too.

"Well, well, look who it is. You wouldn't happen to know where Max is, would you?"

Billy stood in front of you leaning on the wall, his face more angsty than usual, whilst his words were playful his tone was not. No charming smile, instead his jaw was clenched hard.

"Wouldn't you like to know, prettyboy." Smiling at Billy purposely trying to rile up him, standing up straight off the wall, stepping close to you, attempting to intimidate you. He was dangerously close you could feel his breath on you.

"Cut the shit, where is she?" His words harsh yet no louder than a whisper, grinding his teeth as he spoke. His hand placed above your head on the closed door boxing you in.

"What do I get if I tell you?" Smurk creasing up your face once again. His brows crunching together, eyes softing on you for a moment.

"Ugh, what do you want?" Billy couldn't deny his interest.

"Well, I want you to my fake boyfriend." The frown that covered his face previously was replaced with a mischievous grin, that was very interesting to him, sounded like an opportunity.

"And why would I do that?"

"Curiosity. You're going to want it. You won't be able to resist. You're going to want to know what it tastes like." Leaning in close to him, your breath on his face your tongue drifting out your mouth for a moment licking your upper lip, Billy's eyes locked onto your movements. His mouth gaped slightly.

"But, seeing as you're a good man deep deep down I know that you'd never put me in a position that would compromise my honor, you'll do this without trying anything." Your fingers dancing over Billy's chest briefly before tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear. His hand gripping around your waist to stop you.

Truthfully there was not a person that ypu were trying to prove or make jealous by fake dating Billy, you just wanted to know if he was really as assholie as he put on. Or maybe yoyr reasons went deeper, Billy was attractive maybe you just wanted to know what it would be like to be his girlfriend without giving into him. Otherwuse you wouldn't ever get chance at having a very attractive boyfriend, you didn't think highly of yourself.

Almost falling on your ass when the door was pulled open, if it wasn't for Billy latched his hand on your other arm, holding you up until you steaded yourself on your feet.

"Y/n, what's taking so long? I thought you had...been kidnapped." Turning your head to see Steve stood at the door, eyes focusing on Billy as his words slowed down when first sight of him.

"Heya, bigboy. Just asking my girl here if Max is here." Steve's disgusted face turned to Billy to you to Billy to you. Maybe he thought the pet name was just Billy trying to get on your nerves, you both hated eachother too much or it would just lead to sex and that's it not dating yuck.

Billy's hands had long left your arms and now were wrapped your waist pulling you into him your back connected to his chest, his chin rested on your shoulder. It felt weird to have Billy touching you at all, the smell of salt , mint and vanilla surrounded you. Steve just stared eyes wide, eyebrows raised mouth open before calling for Max.

It was so unlike you to go for Billy you had displayed nothing but dislike for the guy and Steve even felt hurt but Billy made it believable. That didn't stop your hate for each didn't stop because that, though it wasn't as severe, the both of you did get to know eachother more in the couple of weeks.

Hell, Billy didn't even get with an girls whilst you were 'dating'. He would hold your hand, or have his arm around your shoulder or touching you someway in public. Openingly admitting you were together, even pecking your cheek. Though, of course both of you had set out ground rules.

Billy wasn't even sure why he had agreed to it, it was stupid, you would tell him why you needed him or did he get anything out of this(other than your lovely company of course).

At first it just included Billy being your personal chauffer to everywhere, him visiting you at family video ( even stealing half your lunch when you were on break sitting on the hood of his car together), taking you to the cinema. Far as you were concerned he was overdoing, you had underestimated him. He was a good boyfriend. He had it all done from the lingering soft touches to the heart eyed smiles. He was a great actor... pfft, sure he was.

Billy had moved out from his dad's house barely a month ago, although the thought of Max being alone with his father frightened him he knew him living close and 'dating' you, if anything was to happen she had someone to go to. His behaviour, though it was already getting better, had improved dramatically since having his own safe space. Finding yourself over his house often, you almost felt like the two of you were friends. The teasing however between the two of you never stopped. Really it wasn't teasing it was hardcore flirting.

Often you'd go there because of Max was or looking for her, deep down knowing that was far from the truth. Billy was either working, working out, smoking orbreleasing a little tnesion. Though, he used to Mr popular other than having girls over he was alone a lot. Hell, Max did feel bad for him after you shined a light on some of his issues and causes. Max felt a little guilty, so she started to come to his place. At first he was resistant to her being over but soon, she could come over without a fuss. Slowly , slowly their relationship was repairing and getting better.

Sat on Billy's couch as you watched him lift weights, Max sat close to you eyes set on the tv.

"Nah, mate you couldn't even do a push up with a bag of flour on your back." You spoke Billy's eyes catching yours, you had been making fun of him the whole afternoon. Placing the weights down, Billy had dropped to the hardwood flooring in planking positok

"Oh yeah? C'mere, Max."

"What?" Max's eyes had shot up to see her shirtless brother on the floor, words panicked as you laughed to yourself.

"On my back, now." shaking her head in resistance. Billy had looked up at her once , his lips in a straight line patience lowering bored with waiting. Sighing Max walked over, you following helping her sit cross legged on her brothers back.

After about twenty push-ups Max had got of Billy's back. "Yeah, we get it." Billy's smirk never left his face he squished down next to you on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

"Ew, stop Billy you're all sweaty!" Billy simply let out a low chuckle before throwing his legs over you, which was mostly his skin because his shorts were unbelievable short, trapping you.

Max had left shortly after to meet with the boys leaving you stuck with Billy. Shuffling from Billy's grip, though he doesn't budge instead he pushes you down, back against the seat of sofa. His whole body weight against you, his stubble tickling against your neck, breath hot his sweat sticking to you. Trying to pry him off by pushing his shoulders, his eyes looking back into yours.

Smirk piping up on his face for moment before he attacked your sides, his fingers tickling at your bare skin under your shirt. Squirming under him as air escaped your lungs quickly.

"N-no, p-pl-please!" Your words drawn out as you spoke between the short gaps of your laughs. Billy had grabbed under your legs pulling you close to him, right against him, his finger pressed into your thighs. His freckled cheeks slightly at your close contact but that wasn't because of nerves.Now right below him legs raised over his hips, his face inches from yours, breath hot your skin, his eyelashes fluttering at you as gazed down to your soft lips.

"Y-you smell and you've wiped all your sweat on me." Stuttering over your words slightly, breaking Billy's stare.

"Thanks, babe. You love it really." His voice laced with sarcasm, his hair dagging down. Scoffing at his words as you wiggled around trying to get away from him, only for to hold onto your thighs harder, raising an eyebrow at you warningly.

"No, go shower."

"Nah," squinting his eyes his voice high pitched as he answered you, lifting you from the sofa, giving you no choice but to hold onto him and not crack your head open on the floor. Before you could fully understand what was happening water was running and whilst holding Billy had gotten in the shower, soaking all your clothes. Mouth slightly gapped reacting to the cold water from the shower, Billy grinning at you.

"I said you not me!" Billys gripped still tight on you, eyes staring back into yoyrs, you did the only thing you could think of. Leaning forward you licked the side of his face. Eyes widening for moment as he pulled back from you, he had loosened his grip.

"Did you just lick my face?" He asked you rhetorical. His curls stuck to him weighed down by water, droplets travelling down his tanned chest, his long eyelashes clumped by the water.

"No?" You had defended unsure of your answer, taking the opportunity to slip from Billy's grip and out of shower. Water going everywhere, you had grabbed a towel.

"If you wanted a taste you only had ask." He had teased, now cleaning himself still in his shorts, sneaking glances as you stripped down to your underwear and bra quickly wrapping the towel around you.

"Go get something from my room to wear."

That's exactly what you did, now sat back on the sofa in one of Billy's shirts as Billy got dressed. One of your knees pulled up to your chest as you painted your toenails.

"Hey, since I accidentally soaked all your clothes, are you going to stay the- Oh , sweetheart," He began to talk to you from the hall, Interrupting himself when he saw you, your eyes locking up to him, his pupils dilated as he stared biting his lower lip gently. Heat rushing to your cheeks.

"No, Billy I was going to walk home in your t shirt and that's all. Yes, I'm staying, now order food or cook." Sarcasm dripping from your words, Billy letting a 'shesh' turning his head back at you as he walked to the phone, from the corner of his eyes he looked you, small smirk on his face.

Soon he had ordered and was sat next to you again, deciding to watch st elms fire because you had insisted he was coping Rob Lowe.

"C'mon, Billy! Let me paint your nails, guys especially with long hair look so hot with them. Would drop my pants for David bowie wit-"

Truthfully, when you'd ask Billy to do certain things, even if wanted to( which 99 percent of the time he did.) he'd make you beg before agreeing. He loved to hear that. The last sentence particularly interesting to him. It wasn't unknown to him that he had really grown attached to you over the last weeks.

"Okay, fine." With smile giggle of excitement that made Billy's heart swell, you began your work. Applying one coat of black nail polish to his nails was all that was needed, eyeing your handy work. Billy couldn't help but agree that it look good, but then again he always did.

"You gonna drop your pants now, babe?"

"I did, in the bathroom remember? " scoffing at you in fake annoyance. Glancing up to his face his hair still damp, his face soft still his eyes reaching yours questioning the smirk on your lips, his eyebrows crunching together.

''Sit there." Pointing to the ground in front of you, the words coming out your mouth roughly. "And face the tv, go on." You explained further, Billy didn't argue, his plaid pajama pants against the coat hardwood floor.

The back of your knees sitting on his shoulders, legs over, thighs around his next as your hands ran through his hair. Combing through, tugging a little too hardhly on one lock as Billy let out a low groan, mqking you laugh quietly to yourself. Your fingers parting the hair, working through the hair quikcly as you plaited it.

You were glad you hand brought your polaroid, grabbing it from your bag next you on the sofa snapping a picture of Billy's hair and nails from above together. His hands laid flat against his thighs. Surprised that Billy didn't put up a fight against any of this, he was content. What at home he'd be well, shouted at, told that he's sniveling pussy, or a ponce. Now he didn't have to worry about that. He knew he was hot and his dad looked like he got stepped on at birth so...

"All done, pretty boy." Patting the sofa next to you.He laid across the sofa, his head on your bare lap as he brielfy felt his hair as you handed him the picture. Humming in approval. His eyes hooked on you again.

"Why did you want me to be your fake boyfriend?"

He hadn't asked previously but it had been plaguing his thoughts, that quedtion made your stomach twist upside down, gulping harshly at the thpught of answering. You couldn't not answer. Eyes focused on the tv where St elms fire continued play.

"I-i guess, well, uh-uhm I wanted to know what it would feel like, you know dating someone...someone like you- I mean like you could have anyone you want. Hell, I even reckon you've got Steve pinning after you. I just to see what it would be like even if it is fake." Unsure of yourself as you stumbled over your words. Billy sitting up from your lap, his knee touching yours, eyes studing you.

"I hate that you aren't the asshole you let on to be, I hate that I actually like you amd I hate that you're a good boyfriend. Fuck, you know what, I'm sorry." You explained quickly, cheels hot wirh embarrassment before Billy you could speak you had legged it to the bathroom.

Closing thr door behind you, you grabbed your jeans from hanging over the radiator, trying to ring them out further. So, they would be semi wearable, like you couldn't walk home wearing 40 pound jeans. You couldn't stay any longer, admitting your crush on Billy would haut you forever, the way his eyebrows quirked up in surprise. No doubt he was laughing about it, you felt so stupid. Creaking of floor boards could be heard faintly.

The jeans in your hands were pulled from you and dropped into the tub with a thud. Before you could even process it arms wrapped around your waist tightly, head rested on your shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" His words harsh as he spoke slow to emphasis each word, his hair and stubble tickling your skin, heat radiating off him.

"Home?" Sighing at your attempt to answer surely instead came out like question, like you didn't even know what you were doing. Billy's scent had your knees weak intoxicating you. His lips graxing of your neck slowly before gh9sting up to your cheek, pressing his soft lips to there in a peck, breathe knocked out of your lungs for moment before you could inhale deeply.

"Really? Planning to leave in just my shirt? Running off before I can even talk to you? Kinda rude, y/n."

Only gulping to clear your throat, Billy had turned you around to face him, grin twitching on his face as he chewed his lower lip. His hair still pulled back in the plait from early, his pupils dilated, finger tips gliding across your shoulders, to the exposed skin on the neck line of the shirt.

"You have one thing wrong, I can't have anyone I want, I want you. But I understand that you wouldn't want that, you deserve better than me, y/n. I'm just an asshole with shits for brains." Billy explained whilst gripping your shoulders ashamed at himself, that he wasn't like...well wasn't like someone like Steve. Perfect ( beside his basketball skills, why didn't he take his advice).

And before Billy could say more your lips were on his, his hand cupping your face to kiss back roughly. Pulling a way from his lips, his face inches away from yours, his blue eyes staring at you.

"Maybe I should decide what's best for me."

"Mhm, Think so?" Nodding at Billy, opening his mouth to say more the door was knocked and he rushed off to get it not before sending you a toothy grin. Following behind him , the room smelling like food quickly. The food at taken a long time to get here and frankly you had forgotten about it.

"So, wanna continue to be my girl, we've been acting like we were together anyways, not like it wasn' real?"

Truthfully, neither of you ever hated eachother.

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