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theladycarpathia · 1 year

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Empty Places Chapter 5 - Manifestation

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“Steve?” Robin shouts and Billy echoes her call, their voices bouncing off the walls. Panic is starting to trickle in, the worry that Steve might not escape these walls. “Steve, stop fucking around! Steve!”

“Fuck!” Billy screams finally, and kicks at the wall. He’s exhausted and heart-sore and they were so, so fucking close. Steve isn’t answering, and that probably means that wherever he is, he can’t.

“Where is he?” Robin asks, looking on the verge of tears. Her hair is mussed and her eyes are bloodshot. None of them have slept or even really eaten for hours. “He was right behind me.”

“Something took him,” Billy mutters, pacing back and forth. Indecision and desperation to find Steve is clouding his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, save for tearing down every inch of this useless, crumbling foundation until he brings Steve back. Screw supernatural forces, he’s never once been without Steve and he’s not about to start now.

“But what? Henry or the other thing?” Robin asks, twisting her head back and forth down the dark hallway, as though she expects Steve to appear. But it's just dark there and it occurs to Billy that they should be keeping an eye on it, just in case whatever took Steve feels like a second and third course.

“Does it matter?” Billy asks in frustration. When he feels like this he wants to scream obscenities, rip down walls, and draw blood, but he can’t do that. Not with the ghost of Neil so fresh in his mind. He doesn’t want to become that. “It’s not like either one is a good option!”

“I’m just trying to figure it out!” Robin shouts, and that’s startling in itself. Robin doesn’t shout. She gets squeaky, she babbles, and her voice occasionally rises to a pitch only dogs can hear but she doesn’t shout. Unlike Billy, she lacks the tightly wound springs necessary for such an act…or she had, until today. “If we work out what took him and why, maybe we can get him back!”

“The ‘why’ doesn’t matter…” Billy starts to say and then stops. Maybe the why does matter. God, they’ve been such idiots.

“Hang on…” Billy says slowly. Something has clicked in his brain, the memory of the dank breath of not-Neil wafting across his face. He’s tried so hard to not think about it, because so much of it was about him. The weak parts of Billy that he doesn’t want his friends to see.

But there was something else that the thing had said. What was it?

“Repression out of the wazoo…” Billy says finally, the words slamming into him. He remembered them because they’d sound so odd coming out of Neil’s mouth. Robin stops pacing long enough to give him a confused look.

“That thing…” Billy explains hurriedly. Jesus, if he’s right, then the monster did take Steve for a good reason. “When it was wearing my dad’s face. It said you guys had your own problems, and then it said Steve had repression out of the wazoo. Those exact words.”

“And that’s important?” Robin asks skeptically, confusion written all over her pale face. Billy shrugs. They don’t have a lot else to work with. Just decades of death, violence and pain.

Or maybe that is something.

The thing had said that Robin didn’t have enough to push down. Robin is an open book, always blissfully, freely herself. She’s gay and, unlike Billy, at ease with it. She wears her quirky clothes, and adores her niche brand of cinema, indie music and queer fiction. She says every word that passes through her mind and loves and hates indiscriminately. She doesn’t push any of it down.

Billy, on the other hand, spent years hiding who he is. He puts on masks as easy as breathing and some days it feels like he’s a Russian nesting doll, a mask hidden under another mask. He hides his identity from Neil and tries to pretend to himself that it doesn’t bother him. He lets boys put their hands down his jeans, steals his mother’s lipsticks, and sticks rainbow stickers over his laptop. He hides, but apparently not enough to be of true interest to the spirits residing in this house.

“I think it feeds off repression,” Billy says, and it’s like puzzle pieces slotting into place. He thinks back to every death he’s ever heard of happening here and thinks that maybe he’s not wrong. Robin’s face still doesn’t untwist and he hurries to explain it to her. “No, listen. It didn’t come after you. Just me and Steve. I get why me, but it seemed really interested in Steve. It said Steve had it as bad as I do.”

“Oh?” Robin says, and doesn’t catch Billy’s eye. Something sinks in Billy’s chest.

“But it’s Steve,” Billy says, in disbelief. “What the fuck does he have to repress?”

“Maybe more than we think,” Robin says quietly. “He doesn’t have to tell us everything, you know.”

Something sharp pierces itself right through Billy’s heart. Whatever it is, Robin knows. She knows, and they both kept it from Billy.

It’s fine. He knows that she and Steve have a slightly different relationship. It’s his own fault, back from the days when Neil was being an absolute shit and he distanced himself from them. Somehow, without him, Robin and Steve had grown together in another way and it shouldn’t hurt so much as it does.

“Right. Fine,” Billy says, stung. He turns his back on her and turns his own torch down the dark, empty hallway. “Let’s go. We need to find Steve.”

“Billy,” Robin pleads and he can hear her hurried footsteps chasing him down the corridor. “It’s not my place to tell!” Billy snorts.

“I said, it’s fine,” he snaps. Which of course means he’s as bad as he can be, trapped in this house, with his best friend missing and keeping secrets from him. There’s always a chance for jealousy with the three of them. Three best friends still leaves an opportunity for someone to be a third wheel.

He just didn’t think that it would mean they’d keep shit from each other.

“Billy, please…” Robin pushes, sounding genuinely upset. “Billy, I don’t mean to…Jesus Christ!” Billy slams to a halt, mere inches before he plows right through the little ghost girl that’s appeared in front of them. He swallows heavily, willing moisture back into his mouth.

“Shit, kid, give us some warning,” he says shakily. He’s never going to get used to how Alice isn’t there one minute and is the next.

Alice merely tilts her head curiously at him. Billy exhales and takes a small step back, choosing to let Robin deal with the dead kid. She may be benevolent but Billy’s pretty done with supernatural things.

“Can you help us?” Robin asks, crouching down to look the little girl in the eyes. “Our friend is gone and we need to find him before we leave.”

“She doesn’t talk, Ro,” Billy says, because he’s not going to count on a ghost to help them get out. For all they know, she could be leading them down to be monster-chow. Steve vanished right after they went down into the tunnels that she directed them to, after all.

“She does!” Robin protests, looking annoyed. “She spoke to me before. I just don’t think she has the energy for it.”

“Ghosts don’t have batteries,” Billy says wearily and checks over his shoulder. Something slinking up behind them in the dark would really be horror movie material. But everything is black and still, no spiders on the walls, no ravenous teeth glinting off the torchlight.

“I don’t think it’s that,” Robin says, sounding thoughtful. “I think she’s being pushed down by the other spirits in here.” To Billy’s immense surprise, Alice nods and Robin beams.

“When did you become the ghost whisperer?” Billy asks curiously. But Robin has turned her attention fully onto Alice, bouncing a little on her heels.

“Do you know where our friend has gone?” she asks eagerly. “Is he still down here?”

A beat. Billy holds his breath. He’s pissed but he wants Steve back. More than anything.

Alice nods and points down the corridor. Robin looks past her ghostly figure, looking apprehensively into the space not lit by their torches.

“What’s down there?” Robin asks and then looks up at Billy. “You were down here before. Did you see this bit?”

“I wasn’t in this section,” Billy says, frowning. The basement appears to be much larger than the house above and he wonders if that’s by design or by some strange dimension twisting logic. He doubts very much that it was down to Andrew Newton. But he certainly didn’t encounter this particular tunnel earlier, and he doesn’t even know for sure if it connects to the original basement. “I don’t know where this leads.” Robin pulls herself up and takes a deep breath.

“I think we’re going to have to find out,” she says.

XXX

Steve wakes up and immediately regrets it.

“Fuck,” he groans and tries to lift his head. Whatever he’s got his face on is cold and slightly damp and smells like the back alley behind Family Video.

He manages to roll over, his head thumping with every movement. Finally, he’s able to lie flat on his back and just breathe. The air here is slightly musty and faintly stale. There’s an odd metallic tang to it, something familiar that Steve just can’t place.

He was in the basement. He climbed down the ladder with Billy and Robin. They were going to get out. But then someone had called his name from the blackness behind them. Something determined to not let him go and he hadn’t been strong enough to fight it.

He lifts his hand and gently probes at his forehead. While doing so reveals a large tender lump, his hand doesn’t come away covered with blood so he feels a little bit better about that.

Eventually his vision stops swaying and he’s able to focus on a familiar rug, fraying at the edges. He’s in the dining room of Creel House.

“What the fuck?” Steve asks blearily. How the hell did he get back up here? He was in the basement and now he’s staring at the old wood paneling that surrounds the room. He’s lying on the same patch of rug he tripped over earlier, just under the portrait of the Creels.

He peels himself off the floor, stopping to lean against the table when his head spins. He breathes in deep through his nose, ignoring the rank smell that he inhales when he does so. Fuck, did something die up here while they were running for their lives? It hadn’t smelled like that earlier.

“Billy?” he tries, his voice coming out as a dry croak. He coughs and tries again. “Billy? Ro?”

No answer.

Steve curls his fingers around the edge of the wood. This isn’t good. It feels like another trap somehow. He gets the vague feeling that trying to get back to the kitchen and the trapdoor again won’t end well for him.

“Alice?” Steve tries, hoping that their little guide can at least hear him, even if his friends can’t. But there’s no sudden ghost appearing in front of him, just the silence of an empty house.

Shit. He casts an anxious look back over his shoulder at the portrait, like he half expects the eyes of Henry Creel to be watching him. He’s going to have to do something. He can’t stay here.

That’s when he notices the other portraits.

Previously, the only portrait in the room was the sole one of the Creels - obnoxious and terrifying, taking up a large space directly over the dining table. But now every available section of space on the walls has been filled. A variety of frames of age, design and size scattered across every wall.

The one to the right of the Creels’ portrait is of a beautiful blonde woman. Her hair is curled around her heart-shaped face, her huge blue eyes sweet and sad. She’s wearing an old fashioned dress of a pale pink color, the collar neat and prim around her long neck.

The portrait to the left is of a middle-aged man with thinning red hair. He has brown eyes and a birthmark over his eyebrow. He’s wearing a brown velour suit that looks like something Steve’s dad had back in the seventies. When Steve looks around the room, every other portrait is the same. Some pictures are photographs, some black and white, some in color. Other frames hold actual paintings, like the one of the Creels. Most of them contain only one person but every so often it holds a couple. One closer to the door has a stern looking man with a burn across the hand that he drapes around his wife’s shoulder. Another has two similar looking women with matching dark skin and full mouths, possibly sisters.

Frowning Steve turns his head back to the portrait of the blonde woman and notices the faint inscription at the bottom of her frame.

Peggy Schaffer, 1948.

Steve’s legs hit the table as he takes a hurried step back. To anyone else that name might mean nothing. But Steve has spent weeks researching Creel House, stared at every newspaper and every name of whoever had once lived here. And in late 1947, the Schaffer family moved in with their teenage daughter, Margaret. She was known as Peggy and she later slit her wrists in the bathtub. She left the water running and the bath had overflowed with red water all the way down the hall.

Open-mouthed, Steve stares around the room. There are so many. The house has existed since the late eighteen hundreds but clearly not every case has been documented. As he wanders around, taking in every name, for every one he recognises there are least two that he doesn’t. He knows the Newtons, Elizabeth, Peggy and Richard. But he’s never heard of Chandra and Meera, Payton and Harry, Luisa and Andrew.

It’s like a strange sort of graveyard, portraits labeled with names and dates of death. Because that’s what this is - the blood that spilled over and over in Creel House. Andrew Newton in 1888. Elizabeth Strand in 1919. Peggy Schafer in 1948. Sebastian Hayes in 1975. Alice Creel in 1986. Isobel Reyes in 1997. Over and over, every person who ever stepped into this house.

Okay, fuck this. He’s getting out.

He bolts from the dining room, intent on reaching the door this time. He doesn’t care what might get in his way.. He’s going and when he’s out, he can open up the cellar door to the basement to find Billy and Robin. He’s pretty sure that they’re still down there, maybe wandering in the same labyrinth that caught him before. They don’t have much in the van that could help but there are tool sheds out back that must have something in that he can use.

But he slams to a halt in the hall. He can hear voices carrying clearly from the living room.

It’s another trick. An illusion. He’d know Billy and Robin’s voices anywhere and these ones definitely aren’t the sounds of his friends. But he goes to look anyway, gripping tightly to the doorframe as he peers around.

It’s Christmas. Before the room had been derelict and dusty and now it’s gleaming with twinkly lights, a massive fir tree taking pride of place in the corner. The mantlepiece bears four stockings, all trimmed with faux fur, and the people that sprawl across the floor passing presents back and forth are the same ones that left and never looked back.

Steve reels. Okay, he definitely hit his head. He had to have done and now he’s suffering from some weird concussion induced trauma that’s giving him hallucinations. Because he knows these people. Their photos are still stuck to every wall.

A pretty Korean woman, with her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, digs under the tree for another present. Her husband - a tall man with curling brown hair and wire glasses - sits on the couch, watching his son run a toy train across the floor. It’s the kind of disgusting family scene that Steve never really had. The matching family slippers. The dog chewing on a toy bone on the rug. The hand painted ornaments on the tree.

“Open this one next,” Mrs Packard says, handing the gift to her daughter as though she can’t see Steve lingering in the doorway. Maybe she can’t, and this really is just Steve’s twisted hallucination.

Their daughter tears into the wrapping paper and judging by the names stitched onto the stockings, her name is Emma.

Emma rips through the wrapping paper the way that kids do, until it’s shredded in pieces on the carpet. But when she tugs open the box, the inside squirms and ripples like a pulsing heartbeat. For a minute, Steve doesn’t quite understand what he’s seeing. But then something small and shiny crawls out onto Emma’s hand.

“Fuck!” Steve shouts, because no one else seems to notice. Mrs Packard is still looking for presents under the three, the little boy runs his train back and forth across the rug. Emma just stares as the mass judders and spills over the cardboard box and her tiny fingers.

Emma turns to face him and to Steve’s shock, her eyes are as black as the shiny shells of the cockroaches. One skitters up her neck and vanishes into her dark hair.

“You’re all going to die in here,” she says simply, and Steve runs.

He’s dreaming. He has to be. He must still be lying in the fucking basement with a concussion and that asshole playing tricks with his head again. None of this can be real.

When he finds Neil Hargrove in the kitchen is the moment he knows for certain that it’s all in his head.

It’s still the Creel Kitchen, strange and caked in dust, sunlight rippling off the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, but Neil and his new family sit around the table, passing over plates of bacon like nothing is wrong. Susan Mayfield sweeps a dead spider off the table top and then sticks her knife in the butter. Steve feels bile rise in his throat as he sees the curled dead legs clinging to the butter on her knife before she smooths it across her toast.

Little Max, Billy’s stepsister, reaches for the ketchup bottle. Steve’s only ever seen a picture of her, all wild red hair and fierce blue eyes. She’s wearing shorts and a striped t-shirt, neat red plaits down her shoulders. She shakes out the bottle and clots of blood ooze down onto the plate instead. Like her mother she doesn’t notice, smearing a piece of bacon into the blood before placing it in her mouth.

Neil sips from his coffee cup before he even addresses Steve. It says a lot that Steve doesn’t feel any fear looking at this man. Billy might, but all Steve has is hate.

“You can’t fix him,” Neil says abruptly, and Steve curls his fingers into a fist. He’s always hated Neil, even before he knew what that asshole was doing to Billy.

“I’m not trying to fix him,” he snarls. As far as he’s concerned, Billy doesn't need fixing. He’s not something that can be fixed, no matter what Neil says.

“He’s not going to fix you either,” Neil says mildly and this time Steve seriously considers stabbing him with one of the knives on the table. This probably isn’t the Neil that Billy saw but this is the one that Steve remembers. The passive aggression, the snide comments, the badly veiled disdain. The man kept his temper in front of guests but only just. Even Steve’s father never spoke to his wife the way Neil spoke to Abigail.

“I’m not asking him to,” Steve says, because that’s not how this works. He has no illusions about it, that being with Billy isn’t going to fix all of their problems. It won’t mend Billy’s trauma, won’t vanish Steve’s insecurities. Relationships don’t work that way, and they shouldn’t.

Neil wrinkles up his nose. For a moment, his hand with the cup in tilts and Steve gets a glimpse of the strange black liquid within. It’s not coffee.

“It doesn't matter anyway,” Neil says, sounding bored. Susan takes a bite of toast, ignorant of the dead arachnid that is mulched into the butter. “You’re all going to die here.”

“You keep saying that!” Steve spits in frustration and Neil smiles.

“But it’s true,” he points out. “You’re never going to get out of this house. You walked willingly into this web, like all of those before you. We’re not going to let you go. You can thrash and fight to escape all you like. But you put your foot down onto the silk and woke us up and now you can’t get out. And you know why, don’t you?”

Steve swallows and it feels like knives all the way down, his mouth is so dry. With a sinking feeling, Steve suspects that it has been true ever since they walked through the front door. The spiders, the door, the tunnel…it all fits.

Which means that it’s all Steve’s fault.

Neil crows in delight and claps his hands, a slow, sarcastic applause. Steve looks down at the stained floor and feels a bitter sting come to his eyes. Fuck. It’s been him all along. He’s the reason that they didn’t get out when they tried the first time.

“Stupid boy,” Neil says, disdainfully. “You’re too far gone. You’re not going to escape. We’re hungry and love makes you weak.”

“It’s not making me weak,” Steve insists, because while loving Billy has made him a lot of things, it’s never once made him weak. “I’m not sure if you’re Neil or that fucker that was in my head earlier but it doesn’t make you weak. And you wouldn’t know because I don’t think you’re capable of it.” Neil, or Henry, or whatever else lives in this house…they’re all the same breed of monster in the end. The kind that Billy fears he’ll be and the kind that Steve knows Billy could never be. Incapable of love.

Neil’s mouth splits open and there are too many teeth crammed in behind his lips. There’s something familiar about the cold, dead look behind his eyes and that’s when Steve knows for sure. This is the creature that’s already been inside his head. This is the spider advancing on the fly bound in the web.

“Love isn’t power,” Neil continues, the cup slipping from his fingers. The black liquid inside seeps across the table and whatever it is, Steve doesn’t think that it’s safe to touch.

The fork suddenly clatters out of Max’s hand and she turns her head to look at Steve. Neil’s face has taken on an expression of fury, like the scheduled program is not going as he would like. Steve isn’t quite sure what’s going on until he gets a good look at Max’s face.

“Run,” Max says, and Steve doesn’t hang around.

It’s only when he’s racing back down the hallway that he realizes that he doesn’t know where to go. He can only go around and around in this house of horrors. And if it’s a dream then he’s really fucked. He doesn’t know how to get out of a dream.

But whatever happened back there wasn’t meant to happen and he remembers Alice trying in vain to keep him on track back in the tunnel.

The living room is empty again, the Packard’s one and only Christmas in this place wiped clean. Steve goes for the stairs, even though he’s not sure what nightmare waits for him up there.

He stumbles into Robin’s bedroom.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters, as he stares down at the three of them from four years ago. Robin in a pilfered sweatshirt, fast asleep on the bed, Cheeto dust still clinging to her fingers. Down on the floor, lying side by side on the spare mattress, is Billy and Steve. The TV flickers on whatever DVD they’d left in, now no longer being watched by any of the occupants in the room.

Mesmerised, Steve steps forward. Billy looks so young here, the faintest hint of a fuller face, before Billy had grown up. His hair is already starting to get longer, the curls clinging to the back of his neck. He’s half asleep, lashes fluttering against the curve of his cheek.

Steve had felt so raw that night. So unbalanced. They’d been friends for eight years at that point and he’s still not sure what it was about this night that made him start to look at Billy differently.

Steve turns to look at the younger version of himself and he can already see it on his face. He knows that it’s going to be a long, hard fall from here but he can’t stop watching fourteen year old Steve stare in awe as Billy breathes.

“I’m going to find a way back to you,” Steve promises his sleeping friends. Because he got them into this mess in the first place. They would have been able to walk out of the front door without Steve and his stupid head. He’s kept it all hidden for too long and he never should have let it get this far. He was afraid of losing Billy and it kept him from even trying.

He should have. He should have rolled over and kissed Billy that first night at Robin’s. He should have kissed him under the mistletoe at Nancy's party two years ago. He should have stopped today after he faced down the fake one and told him that Steve is too far gone on him.

Because that’s the thing. There’s no coming back now. He knows in his heart that he’s going to love Billy for the rest of his life. The fall has been too deep, too absolute. Every laugh, every time Billy fell asleep on his couch, every time he fought with Robin over his lipgloss. His sudden stormy moods, his unwavering loyalty, his incredible spirit. Steve is totally and incredibly in love. Being friends just isn’t enough and he knows it.

“You should remember that for later,” comes a voice and Steve looks up to see the gleam of Robin’s eyes in the dark. Even though she didn’t wake up that night, something has made her sit up now with that grave expression, a puppet pulled by someone else’s strings like Max down in the kitchen. “Don’t let go of it.”

“I won’t,” Steve promises, taking one last glance at this chunk of his past. He knows where he has to go next.

The room across the hall is also occupied but Steve steps in anyway.

“I suppose you meant it earlier when you said it was all fake?” Steve asks, waiting in the doorway. Henry looks up from his drawings. Steve can see from here that they’re the same horrid pictures that Robin found, smears of black ink and red pen across the page. The boy himself isn’t much better than the painting. There’s something strange about the pallor to his cheeks, the discontented twist of his mouth.

“It is,” Henry says flatly. And Steve is inclined to agree, the lie of a portrait of the happy family and the son who wished for nothing more than their deaths. It would have been better for all of the Creels if Henry had been drowned in a bucket after birth. He may not have murdered them but it was still his hand behind their deaths in the end. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“Maybe,” Steve agrees. Maybe that was another part that Henry was picking up on, the one similarity between themselves.

Alice sits on the floor, her legs tucked beneath her pale blue dress. She pays Steve no mind, drawing something in a bright pink crayon. So far, Steve has only seen the painting and the ghost versions of her. This one is painfully real, from the runs in her tights to the flush in her cheeks.

“You killed your sister,” Steve says, repulsed. They’d known it before but they never stopped to consider just how evil of an act that it was. It’s all too easy to see - Henry pulling his sister from her bed, smothering her screams for help, dragging her down into this dark space and slicing her open. A sacrifice, a bargain, an offering.

“It was the price to pay,” Henry says smoothly and the coldness of it all strikes Steve down to his core. “It wanted proof of my loyalty…and that I could follow through on my desires. A trait that you seem to lack.”

Steve grinds his teeth. This creature has chased him all around the house, wearing different faces, and he’s had enough of it. The only thing stopping him from punching Henry Creel right in his smug face is the thought that this is just another illusion.

“Well, I’m glad that you have some restraint,” Henry drawls, his eyes glittering. He looks half mad, this small boy with the intense eyes. Steve’s not really one for believing that whole ‘windows to the soul’ gibberish but he thinks that these eyes are definitely showing something. Like the glint of a predator’s eyes in the dark.

“Did you just read my fucking mind?” Steve spits, a little horrified. He should have guessed and the slow, pleased smile spreading across Henry’s face is enough to prove it.

“Did you think I just killed my sister for nothing?” Henry asks. Alice continues coloring and Steve is pretty sure that this one is just an illusion. Just another ploy by Henry, like the Packards, like the Mayfields.

“No, I got a little something out of it,” Henry continues, as though Steve’s presence barely matters at all. “I told you before. Power is what matters. Not love.”

Love had meant nothing to Henry. Maybe he’d never cared for his sister. Maybe he had and slitting her open in front of the demon was the sacrifice he’d had to make. But Henry has been doing the dirty work for the demon ever since 1989. Playing with people’s heads, learning their fears and desires, and driving them right into an open maw.

If there was indeed a spirit that existed in Hawkins before Andrew Newton ever thought to build a grand manor here, then the demon was trapped by the concrete walls, the slabs of modern steel, all of the brick and mortar. Andrew constructed a trap without ever knowing what he had done. But it didn’t matter. The demon didn’t need to leave anymore, not now that food was being delivered right to it.

Some probably took time. Peggy killed herself a mere seven months after she arrived at the house. If the demon was limited to where it could go in the house, then its influence took longer to get inside Peggy’s head. It was the same for the Strands. It took a long year before Winston snapped and murdered his wife. But after the remaining Creels left the house, the time frame for every occupant got shorter and shorter. Isobel Reyes in 1997 lasted three months. Terry Hatcher survived eight weeks before he threw himself onto the iron railings below. The Packards lived here for five months before they fled. That's a long time to survive with a demon living beneath your feet, with a monster trying to tug on your strings, waiting until you’re ripe. Henry is the anglerfish, the siren luring men into rocks with their songs, the woman in white waiting by the side of the road.

The entity in this house has made Henry the perfect tool. He can pick out every dark thought in someone’s head and then use it to manifest their fears, their desires. It would either propel them to act on their repressed thoughts or eventually drive them mad.

A deeply disturbed boy, obsessed with the murders and spiders, must have been ripe pickings for a demon. They’d lived here for a few months before the disappearances. Did the demon whisper to Henry every night? Trickle sweet nothings in his ear, like poisoned honey, promising him blood and power if he would just drag his sister down to the basement and spill her guts before a demon?

“You’re not wrong,” comes a bemused voice and Steve jerks his head up to the large bay window. Before it had been empty, sunlight spilling in across the faded wood.

The man in front of him doesn’t look much older than Steve. He’s maybe a decade older, long and lean with sharp wrists and high cheekbones. There’s something about his blonde hair, the glint in his eyes as he stares at Steve that’s also familiar. It isn’t until the man tilts his aristocratic chin that it all clicks.

“Henry Creel,” Steve says, stunned, and the man gives him a flash of teeth. Steve turns his head back to the young Henry on the floor. The boy is still dragging thick black lines across the page. There’s something familiar about it and Steve recoils. It’s following him, that same black ooze.

“Well done,” Henry says, and it drips with condescension. There’s still something of the dour little boy in the man standing in front of Steve, but he can’t quite believe that this is Henry Creel all grown up. Henry should be older, a man in his fifties at least. But this man is youthful, with fresh skin and shiny hair, and it sits all wrong in Steve’s belly. It could be another part of his dream but somehow, he doesn’t think that it is.

“How are you…?” Steve begins to ask and then stops. “You never left this house, did you?” The horrible truth is that he already knows, and has started to suspect since Robin came down with that metal box in her hands. Two little children vanished from their beds one night in 1986. They were never seen again until 2022 when three amateur ghost hunters wandered into the Creel mansion. Alice looks exactly the same as she did when she lived here and that’s because she never left.

Henry didn’t either but for completely different reasons.

“So no portrait in the attic then?” Steve asks, and Henry smirks.

“I told you that there were benefits to this arrangement,” he says calmly, wandering a little closer to Steve. He looks like any man you’d meet in the street, with tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt. His polished black shoes click across the concrete and Steve shuts his eyes. He’s not sure what’s worse.

“That’s fucked up,” Steve hisses. Steve would never…could never. Not for whatever twisted immortality that Henry has.

“And instead of being devoured by it, you were the only one to make friends with it,” Steve says and opens his eyes. Henry watches him with interest. There's satisfaction there, and a little bit of hunger. There shouldn’t be such an expression of bloodlust on any human.

“Close,” Henry admits. “I was always different. That’s why we moved here. They thought that a nice little town like this could fix me.”

“Can it fix psychopath,” Steve bites out, unable to help voicing the thought that skitters across his brain. Because there’s something very not right with Henry, something that was rotten long before he walked across the demon’s path.

But Henry chuckles. He looks amused by Steve’s venom, and that doesn’t mean anything good for Steve.

“You failed a little,” Steve probes. “Your parents got out.” But there’s a look of grim satisfaction on Henry’s face.

“Not far enough,” he chides. “And not for long. They both died not long after. Quite honestly, I think that they knew what had happened. It wasn’t something that they could really live with.”

No, they couldn’t have. They’d have known what their son was capable of and they’d never have been able to shake their suspicions. It had swallowed Virginia whole and Victor not long after. The guilt. The regret. The grief.

“What about my friends?” Steve asks, because he has to know. Billy was visited by either Henry or the demon…and if Steve had to make a guess, he’d presume the demon. Billy had wandered right into its hunting ground, and he could guess at what thoughts could be skimmed from Billy’s head. The kind of thoughts that would have made it so easy for it to wear Neil’s face.

“They’re around,” Henry says, looking at his fingernails. This is all routine for him, luring people down to be used as food. He’s more demon than human himself now, never aging, able to pick out people’s deepest desires from their hearts. “We really only needed you. If they’re smart, they’ll leave.”

Steve swallows, suddenly very aware of the lump in his throat. They wouldn’t leave. He hopes to God they have but he knows them. They’ve been a package deal all their lives. They wouldn’t leave him behind.

“Why all this?” Steve asks, gesturing to the room, the children, the dream. “I know it’s not real.”

Henry gives an easy shrug and then waves his hand. The children vanish, young Henry and Alice fading away like smoke.

“Why not?” Henry says, like it’s all a game. That this has just been fun for him, seeing how far he can push Steve. “Besides, I don’t think you want what’s real.”

“So how does it work?” Steve asks, trying to ignore the goose-flesh on his arms. The temperature in the room has dropped, a strange dank air moving through the room as though someone left a window to hell open. He’s on borrowed time now. “I run around this stupid dream version of your house until you eat me?”

“I’m not the one eating you,” Henry says dryly. The bedroom door slams behind Steve and he flinches, before grabbing furiously at the handle. It rattles uselessly, even though he knows there’s no escaping anyway. This is Henry’s domain. Steve has no power here.

“No, you don’t,” Henry says coldly and when Steve turns around Henry is right there, a hand shooting out as fast as lightning to push Steve back into the door. It’s a dream, but he can still feel the press of the handle into his spine, the sharp sting of Henry’s nails against his throat.

A hand curls suddenly into his hair and Steve tries to jerk back but can’t. Henry’s fingers are cold and stiff, a familiar feeling from when he’d worn Billy’s face earlier and caressed Steve’s face like a lover. The fact that this time he knows that it’s not Billy, something not quite human, doesn’t help. His blood still pounds with fear as Henry leans over him.

“It’s been a good while since I was able to use these powers,” Henry confides, still gently stroking Steve’s hair like he doesn’t have his other hand gripped around Steve’s throat. “This was what I wanted after all, what I was promised. Before I was ordinary, human, weak.”

“Get out,” Steve gasps, having to fight for each word against the pressure of Henry’s weight. Henry just smiles, his face horribly close to Steve’s and that’s when Steve realizes that he can’t move. Steve automatically squirms but Henry just laughs and it’s by far the worst sound that Steve has ever heard.

“Would this be easier for you if I looked like Billy again?” Henry asks and Steve shudders.

Henry grins, mouth stretched wide and curls his fingers deeper into Steve’s head. They feel longer, bonier, than any normal digit should, each one like an ice pick against Steve’s scalp.

“I hope you don’t mind me having another little look,” Henry croons, before Steve tips his head back and screams.

Onto Chapter 6

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

Text

Adopt a Jock Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating.

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him.

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?”

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on.

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?”

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade.

Not of his own free will, anyway.

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later.

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once.

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!”

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day.

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense.

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.”

"Hey, language!"

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.)

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.”

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him.

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster.

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?”

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!”

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.”

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that”

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it.

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.”

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.) She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!”

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.”

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.”

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?”

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as.

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie.

His best friend was going to fucking freak.

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?”

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!”

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult.

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.)

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.”

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth.

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on.

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made.

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.)

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache.

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch.

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?”

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway.

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade.

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.”

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.”

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.”

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.”

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face.

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face.

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!”

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him.

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door.

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand.

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man.

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now.

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around."

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over.

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.”

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics) didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff.

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically.

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit.

He came up empty.

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?"

He got a flat stare back. "No."

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places.

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real.

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick.

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula."

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick.

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?" Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process.

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him."

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?"

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him.

Grant blinked. "The fuck?"

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!”

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit.

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be.

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing.

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.”

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van.

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one.

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!”

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head.

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet.

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.”

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter.

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him.

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning.

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either.

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture.

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently.

"I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished.

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds.

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always.

How silent his normally loud house would be.

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle.

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely."

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that.

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling.

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster.

"Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.

"So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious.

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out."

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.”

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly.

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear.

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment.

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out.

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye.

"No." Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it."

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?" Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?"

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances.

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems.

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal.

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes.

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it.

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks.

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot.

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan."

"God help us all." Jeff muttered.

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.)

Bonus:

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school.

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically.

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count."

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.”

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?"

"That was different. I was discovering myself."

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered.

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there."

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs."

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!"

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it."

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it."

"I hate you."

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know."

#Gareth @ 15: LOOK AT THESE LITERAL BABIES!#The Party @ 13: SCREW YOU GARY U NERD #Steve is a mom in my head but he definitely has older brother vibes.#Like he's on that 'You can do stupid shit but only if I supervise' phase lol #I don't ship Gareth with Jeff but I can see him picking Jeff over Eddie as the Bi Test Run.#Pre steddie #hellfire adopts Steve #adopt a jock #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #hellfire club #Steve harrington whump #Sad Boy Hours Steve #0o0 fanfics #gareth emerson #jeff #grant #Next part is Eddie Munsons Ridiculous Oneshot

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chelseeebe · 4 months

Text

everything has changed

you and steve were once the bestest of friends, cruelly torn apart when you’re forced to leave hawkins suddenly. fifteen years on, everything has changed and yet, nothing has changed.

i had this idea a while ago and then have recently become re-obsessed with the song so decided to give it a rewrite! it’s kinda giving seven x everything has changed and i love that. i have a sitcom level idea of a part two for this but i’m not sure it’ll ever come to fruition

18+. no smut but my blog is 18+ :) mostly just fluffy friends to lovers stuff hehe

‎♡‧₊˚

“you promise we’ll be friends forever?” steve asks, quirking his little eyebrows up. still so innocent, so unaware that the world was a cruel place.

“i promise!” you’d shrieked, toothy grin beaming over at him as you sat poised on the climbing frame. “we’ll write letters every week and in the summer you can come and visit!”

steve whooped with glee, the metal frame shaking from the force of his body, “okay! my mom has your mom’s number so i can call you,” grubby hands clinging onto yours.

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, wobbling atop of your tower. full of hope and your shared joy. oblivious to how the next 15 years would play out.

life hadn’t been so kind as to keep the two of you in contact. steve’s mom had tried to explain it to him, but his poor seven year old brain couldn’t quite grasp it.

it was only when he was older that he had realised what had happened.

you had been whisked away to california, your mother’s home state, far away from your dad. for your safety of course. his mother had warned him not to mention where you had gone to anyone, and he’d stuck by that.

and really, life had gotten in the way of thinking about you too much. basketball tryouts and getting girls into the back of his bmw had taken precedence over fading thoughts of freckly girls he once knew.

steve was at college now, admittedly tagging along with robin, but he was enjoying it. he played basketball, studied children’s education and had even scored himself a kinda stable girlfriend.

he’s sat in the library, book open and unread in front of him on the table as robin attempts to convince him to go out tonight.

“it’ll be fun! besides, i promised my roommate that i’d go.. y’know she’s having a hard time,” turning on the puppy dog eyes that more often than not, worked on him.

he groans, “i don’t know rob.. finals are coming up soon and i really need to get this down if i wanna graduate with you,” though he makes no effort to actually pick up the book, more interested in the coffee robin had used as a bargaining chip.

“steve,” almost warningly, “come for an hour,” nodding at him, as if to subliminally make him agree, “and then i’ll help you study all day tomorrow, okay?” tilting her head, bright green* eyes glistening at him.

“fine,” succumbing to her pleas, “but you owe me,” sending a glare across the table as he finally turns the page.

robin grins, happy she’d gotten her own way. again.

they walk arm in arm into the bar, squeezing through the crowd as they attempt to locate robin’s mysterious roommate.

steve sighs, whispering into robin’s ear, “why do i have to be here? just because your roommate is a lonely weirdo, doesn’t mean you have to drag me out too,” pouting like a petulant child.

she pinches his arm, causing him to yelp into her ear, “this is why i used to pray for the ceiling light to fall on your head in mrs click’s class,” pulling away from him as she spots whoever she’s looking for.

“wait.. what?” he calls out after her, weaving through the crowd to find her again.

she has her face buried into someone’s shoulder, blabbering about the busy bar and how good it was to get out.

robin pulls away, gesturing over to steve as this lucrative stranger meets his eye.

it’s you.

the little girl who had promised to be his best friend forever now stood before him, all grown up. he almost doesn’t believe it. in fact, he can’t. not until you speak, his name echoes around meaninglessly.

“what the fuck?” he gasps, still in utter shock.

“it’s really you? you’re.. oh my god, you’re steve of course you are,” wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, the exact way you had fifteen years ago.

you even smell the same, a distinct sort of vanilla smell that takes his mind hurtling fifteen years into the past. he almost wants to throw up from the turbulence of it all.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you gasp, still nuzzled into his shoulder, “this is so surreal,” now holding him at arms length, dissecting his face in the same way he was yours.

you looked the same and yet completely different. no more gappy smiles or sun bleached hair, very pretty. his seven year old self had thought so too, but your friendship had meant more.

“you two know each other?” robin perplexes, watching the scene unfold with zero context.

“we.. uh- yeah,” unsure of how much he can divulge, still under strict orders from his mom to never tell a soul where you’d gone.

“we were friends, i was born in hawkins so.. god, this is so weird,” you exasperate, letting go of his frame to talk to a bewildered robin.

“you’re from hawkins? you told me you were from california?” robins face twists in confusion.

“it’s a.. complicated story,” you look back at him, still trying to decipher if he was even real, “i moved away when i was young but we were like, best friends,” baring your teeth with your smile.

“well shit, i’ve got time,” robin laughs, sliding into the booth, she looks up at steve, “drinks on you.. you know, to celebrate,” wiggling her brows in that irritating way she did when she wanted something.

he dutifully obliges as you begin your story, he supposes that now you probably can.

your dad had moved out of hawkins a while ago, it wasn’t exactly a secret as to why you guys had just up and left so abruptly. steve had always hated him, made sure to glare daggers into his back when he and his mother would pass him in the street or in melvalds. he felt he owed you that.

plus steve was angry, angry that you’d had to leave him behind because of your dad. his tiny mind couldn’t comprehend that it was for the better, only understanding that it was your dad’s fault his best friend had been taken from him.

steve’s curious about california, how your life differed from hawkins. you play it off as nothing special but you smile differently when you speak of afternoons after school spent on the beach and learning to surf.

he makes some off-hand comment about making it out which causes your brows to furrow, “so did you,” tapping the table in front of him, “remember we would talk about college? living in a big house together?”

he chortles, almost choking on his beer, “yeah, with ten dogs and three cats,” shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“wow..” robin butts in, “so you did this with other girls before me?” faux-offence written all over her face.

you beam, looking between the two of them, “so are you guys dating?”

steve does choke this time, sputtering as the bitter liquid slides down the back of his throat.

“no!” they chime in unison.

“jesus christ, you think i’d date him?” robin falls into a fit of giggles, it didn’t hurt his ego anymore. robin had very particular tastes and that very much didn’t include men.

“thanks rob..” he snarls jokingly, “i uh, i have a girlfriend.. just not robin,” he’s not sure why he’s apprehensive to tell you. christ, he’d only re-known you for five fucking minutes.

“sorry, i just assumed..” shrinking into your seat, desperate to change the subject.

he’s modestly pleased that you don’t ask any more about his girlfriend, which in turn makes him feel a rotten sense of guilt.

“yeah well, to assume makes an ass out of you and me,” robin adds, giving you a poke to your ribs for good measure, “and he’s definitely not my type,” her nose shrivelling up in disgust.

you snigger, poking robin right back as she explodes into her myriad of reasons why she would never date steve. she kept a list.

there’s a sickening feeling of affinity, like all the years you hadn’t been together just ceased to exist, they no longer mattered.

especially when your eyes meet as robin prattles on, like you’re sharing an old joke.

he doesn’t like this, doesn’t fancy his odds of coming out of this unscathed but that doesn’t stop him from shifting his chair closer as the night goes on. nor does it stop him from walking you home, supporting a tipsy robin on his arm.

and it most certainly doesn’t effect him when you hug him goodnight, nestling your chin into his shoulder the way you used to.

fuck.

steve climbs down the steps into the strange smelling studio, he hadn’t even known this ever existed. there’s art littering the walls, the shelves, just about any surface that was available.

you’re at the back of the empty room, dabbing a paintbrush onto a canvas, completely unaware of his presence.

“hey.. robin said you’d be down here,” he speaks softly, so as to not startle you.

you still jump, clutching your chest as you spin on your heel, “jesus christ,” panting rather dramatically, “you scared the shit outta me,” shock turning into a wide smile.

“sorry,” he chuckles, weaving through the easels, trying his damn hardest not to touch or knock anything over, “what ya’ working on?” peering at the canvas.

it’s a beautiful scene, a lone swing set lies in the middle, surrounded by a peachy-pink sunset. it’s reminiscent of something he can’t quite place.

“oh just..” shrugging him off, “some stuff for my exhibition.. i dunno if i like it yet,” downplaying the glorious work of art in front of him. as if there were any need.

“what are you talking about? it’s so good,” still clinging onto his backpack strap.

you shake your head, taking the apron off of your body, tossing it onto the hook full of other dirtied aprons. “i can do better.. anyway, did you trek all the way down here for a reason or..?”

he lingers by the painting for a second longer before turning to face you, remembering his actual aim, “yes! are you joining us for dinner tonight? robin wants you to meet all of our friends,” he offers, though he’s aware it’s not much of a deal for you.

“uh.. who’s gonna be there?” you ask, quirking a brow. he’s aware that you’re not exactly a social butterfly.

“well, nancy, jonathan, vickie.. argyle, if jonathan can convince him to come out,” they were all nice enough, if he and robin liked you, they definitely would too.

“i dunno..” wrinkling your nose.

“come on,” he pleads, “it’ll be fun.. they’ll love you. nance’s been begging me to get you out.. please?”

you shake your head, as if weighing up your options, “okay.. fine, but dinner’s on you,” as you drop the pallet into the sink for someone else to deal with.

“great,” he beams, there’s something to be said about the fact he still hadn’t introduced katie to the rest of his friends yet.. but he doesn’t wanna think about that.

his hand comes to rest on what he thinks is a dry desk, waiting for you to finish up, only to find his hand now covered in goopy white paint, “oh shit,” he fusses, pulling your attention from the sink.

“oh fuck, i should’ve told you that was wet..” looking between his outstretched hand and his eyes, a giggle bubbling on your lips as he stomps over to the sink.

“oh is this funny to you, huh?” joining you at the basin.

you run the hot water for him, grabbing the bottle of soap ready to clean his hand, “well it’s a little funny,” lips twitching while he stands like a lemon.

as steve normally does, he acts before he thinks, pressing his paint-covered palm to your cheek, only registering what he had done when you shriek in response, splashing water everywhere.

“you asshole!” you gasp, brows furrowed as you conjure up something for revenge.

that’s when you grab the still paint-covered brush and smear it over his cheek and nose, staining his features a daring bright orange.

“oh it’s like that is it?” he grins, grabbing your wrist with his clean hand, threatening to mark you again. “you don’t wanna mess with me, i’ve got the upper hand,” sticking his tongue out slightly, unable to shake the way your eyes still glistened the same.

“if you want me to come to dinner, you’ll put your hand down.. call a truce,” bargaining with him.

he obliges, holding his hands up in surrender, “okay.. okay, you win,” unable to contain his laughter as he washes the paint from his palm.

you shoulder barge him as you come back to the sink, pulling your clean brushes from the water and leaving them to dry on the metal board.

“we’re gonna have to swing by my room,” you smile begrudgingly, shoving your stuff into your bag, watching as he dries his hand.

“okay,” his grin still lingering, “personally, i think you should just come to dinner like that.. it looks great,” enjoying the ribbing that came with being your friend.

you scoff, practically pushing him out of the studio, ensuring he couldn’t wreck havoc on anything else.

the pair of you glide down the hall, steve filling you in on the guests that would joining you for dinner when a voice calls his name from in front.

katie bounds up to him, smile fading the second she sees the new colour of his face, “why are you orange?” face screwed up as she rescinds her offer of a kiss. he’s slyly thankful that your adorned his face now.

“oh we.. i- i tripped, got paint everywhere,” he chuckles, feeling like a scolded child.

katie hums, “right.. that’s kinda weird,” her eyes flit over to you and the paint on your face, “you trip too?” a judgemental look flashing across her features.

“no,” shrinking into yourself, “steve.. tripped,” doubting your own words, like your measly paint fight needed to be kept secret. but maybe that’s just how he felt, is that wrong?

he can’t decide.

“hmph,” katie frowns, her attention turning back to steve, “go and clean up.. you look like a clown,” before speeding off down the hall, ponytail flouncing around as she goes.

he just rolls his eyes continuing out of the building as you scurry along behind, “she seems nice,” sarcasm dripping off your tongue.

“ignore her,” brushing the whole encounter off, “she’s just.. pissy because i’m busy tonight, don’t take it personally,” offering a short smile. he glances at his watch, grimacing at the time, “oh shit, we’re late,” grabbing your hand as he starts sprinting ahead.

“i can’t meet your friends like this!” you holler, bounding behind him.

“they won’t mind!” he screams into the wind, dodging other students with a skill only possessed by someone who chronically sleeps through their alarm.

they really don’t.

in fact, robin bursts into laughter as you walk into the diner, “i’m not even gonna ask,” tapping the plush cushion for you to slide in next to her, steve follows closely behind.

the two of you share a look, an inside joke that was just yours. he liked that, it made him feel strangely important. like he was worthy of sharing things with just you.

everyone is lovely, obviously. he had no doubt that they would be. argyle corners you about california, discovering that it is a rather large state and no, you won’t have bumped into each other.

steve doesn’t want the night to end, he’s selfish like that. so he does the sane thing to ensure you spend as much time together as possible, walking you and robin back through campus, still adorned with paint.

“thank you.. for making me go,” you smile coyly once you reach your door, robin had already disappeared off inside, leaving just the two of you.

“no worries.. i told you they’d love you,” shoving his hands into his pockets, mostly so he doesn’t do anything stupid.

you chuckle, reaching for the door handle, “i’ve really missed you, you know? it’s like it’s all hit me at once,” shrugging your shoulders as if that were just some nonchalant comment he would ever be able to forget.

“i missed you too,” he adds, truly meaning it.

sure, he’d found friendship again but nothing had ever felt quite like you. it was different, and even now after years and years of being in separate states, with no idea that the other was even still alive, it all felt normal.

like you could walk back into that park tomorrow, sit on the swings and just natter away about everything and nothing like you used to.

“goodnight, see you tomorrow?” you smile, sliding through the door, waiting just long enough for his reply.

“of course,” returning the smile.

he hums all the way home, a child-like joy overrunning his senses. he thinks about you when he dreams, of sharing crayons and candy. high-pitched giggles and an unfaltering feeling of love.

it had been weeks of hanging out now, sharing tales from your childhood, robin was still struggling to understand that you were also from hawkins. “you’re just.. it’s crazy, you’re nothing like the usual hawkins dwellers and the fact that you were friends with him? wow..” she had muttered with a swift jab to steve’s arm.

she had had the bright idea of a sleepover, they hadn’t really been able to since moving to chicago, out of respect for their roommates but now her roommate was you, what was stopping them?

“why don’t we push the beds together?” robin blurts out, like a lightbulb had just gone ding on the top of her head.

you nod excitably, going to heave your bed across the room. steve pushes the end of the bed frame, connecting it to robin’s as she stands there doing absolutely nothing to help.

“phew thanks robin, couldn’t have done that without all your help!” steve quips, throwing his best friend a snide smile.

“shut up dingus, my nails are still wet,” as if that made it okay.

you smile at the two of them, stood in your pyjamas that steve had definitely not been gawping at. he doesn’t mean to, he knows it’s not like that. he has a girlfriend for christ’s sake.

that’s what he’s been telling himself anyway.

“you’re in the middle,” robin declares, looking at you, rather than him, “put your cold feet on somebody else for once,” before climbing into her side of the bed.

you slide in next, cuddling up to robin as you do. steve’s next, fashioned in his excuse for pyjamas, namely a chicago university shirt and his boxers. it probably wouldn’t go down well if katie were to find out but he didn’t particularly care.

there’s a joke there, something about sharing a bed with a lesbian and his childhood best friend but he can’t be bothered to think about it.

not when you turn over to face him, all smiles and warm cheeks, he has to remind himself that robin is on the other side of you, mumbling something about not waking her up early.

“goodnight,” you grin, relaxing into the pillow you shared as the light flickers off.

“night,” he replies, pulling his eyes away from your shadowy features, deciding that staring at the fuzzy ceiling was better than being a freak.

you roll over slightly, head falling onto his shoulder making his breathing falter, sworn to this position until you up and moved. it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

he shouldn’t be thinking like this, you’re friends, old friends to be exact. and he has a girlfriend.

except, he awakens in the morning, stiff shoulder and a cricked neck, taking a peek at the other side of the bed to find robin had forced you into him with her sprawling limbs.

you rouse not long after he does, blinking at the light and hurriedly moving your head from his dead arm.

“oh my god,” you remark, “i’m sorry.. was i on you all night?” wriggling around the small space you held.

steve exhales, lifting his arm in the air in an attempt to get some blood flowing back into the extremity, “yup.. it’s okay though,” quickly rolling over to face you, “sleep well?”

“well, apart from robin’s foot in my back.. yeah, pretty well,” chuckling into the pillow as you shy away. he wishes you wouldn’t.

“then it was worth the dead arm,” returning your abnormally bright smile, you were far too chipper for this time in the morning but he didn’t mind. made a difference from the usual grump robin was in, for sure.

“you should sleep over more often,” you smile.

he heart soars, god he’d love to. “oh yeah? like we used to?”

the crinkle by your eye returns, remembering times gone by, “yeah, just like that,” speaking softly, as if it wouldn’t take an industrial alarm to wake robin.

“you wanna go get breakfast?” he asks, before this devolves any further.

“absolutely.”

there’s a knock at the door, tommy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even make a half assed effort to pretend to care so steve huffs and gets up to answer.

you’re stood on the other side, already smiling as you wait. it’s a welcome sight, without robin he’s been a little stir-crazy, not yet brave enough to venture to your room without her there.

maybe he’s afraid that something would happen, maybe he’s not. he’s not entirely convinced that he’d have the power to stop himself.

“i just came to give you a ticket.. for my exhibition, it’s on saturday so.. if you’re busy i totally get it,” you fret, offering out the ticket to him.

there’s an undetermined feeling in his stomach, looking down at the paper ticket in his pal, warmth rushing to his chest at the fact you’d even considered him.

steve steps out of the room, closing the door behind him, away from tommy and listening ears. tommy and katie were friends somewhat, mostly by association through his girlfriend carol. anyhow, he wasn’t keen on him telling some misconstrued story to carol and then reaping the punishment from that.

“wow..” still starstruck that you had asked him. “i’ll be there.. wouldn’t miss it,” sliding the ticket into his pocket, mostly so he would stop looking like a weirdo for staring at it.

“okay,” you nod, smile up to your ears, “it’s only small..” here you go again, downplaying your talent as if steve would ever care.

“stop it,” he warns, jokingly rolling his eyes, “hey, i’ll walk you back.. i needa get out of that fucking room,” gesturing for you to take the lead.

you chatter all the way across campus, talking about everything and nothing, he wants to ask if that painting of the swingset will be there but doesn’t. letting you blabber on about composition and the asshole gallery manager that wants you to set up at 6am.

its only when you reach your hall that you stop, turning to face him with a genuine smile that makes his heart thud.

“it’d really mean a lot if you came..”

he nods, stepping closer only just, “i will, i’ll be there,” assuring you as much as he could. he meant it, too. there’s really nothing he could think of that would make him not go.

he allows his gaze to slip to your lips, he lets himself do that even though he shouldn’t.

studying the curve, the slight gap between your bottom and top lip, the way they twitch with what he hopes is anticipation.

you’re both inching closer, neither of you acknowledging what’s about to happen. the air is thick, silent even. a knowing sense that you’re either about to ruin everything or become something more.

two doors down, a door swings open, a voice bellowing out, “i’ll catch up!” before a boy speeds out, glancing at the two of you briefly before disappearing.

you clear your throat, averting your gaze, studying the dirtied floor, “okay.. i’ll see you saturday,” coy smile as you unlock the door and potter off inside.

steve stands there, blinking at the wooden frame as if you’d somehow materialise from the other side.

he hightails it back to his room, in some sort of daze as he attempts to reconfigure himself. his relationship and his friendship with you. nothing made sense.

he’s not sure it ever will again.

fuck he wishes robin were here. of course she’s at some stupid family reunion when he needs her most. his next port of call would be you and well.. that didn’t seem particularly helpful.

he errs on calling robin, floating around his room with no purpose. at least tommy was no where to be seen, unsure if he could’ve handled his beady little eyes and snooping questions.

katie would be waiting on him, he always stayed over on thursdays, at least he used to. before you were back i. the picture. before you had completely consumed his mind with your stupid smile and stupid face. both a distant memory and an important part of his current life. it’s fucking dizzying.

it’s not really stupid, he thinks he’s stupid actually.

steve does what he does best and decides to ignore his brain, grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm. he’s grateful that katie’s house is on the opposite side of campus from your building. that way he couldn’t accidentally wind up there instead of where he’s supposed to be.

she welcomes him in, a pink, frilly house that steve had always detested a little bit. it smelt too strongly of vanilla and the other girls always side-eyed him, bitter and judgemental over something he couldn’t figure out.

it’s now that they’re sat on katie’s satin bedsheets that he realises that he really, really doesn’t want to be here.

nevertheless, he swallows it down. putting on false pretences as they fake-watch the shitty rom-com she’d turned on to fill the silence.

“so.. have you got your suit for saturday?” katie asks, playing with his limp hand.

“yeah,” resisting the urge to move his hand away, “sorry- saturday? i thought it was tomorrow?”

katie had asked- or more precisely begged him to escort her to this senior send off ceremony. some bullshit sorority ritual that made zero sense to him.

“uh.. no, always been saturday,” she’s still smiling, still trying, “steve, i told you weeks ago,” her frustrations seeping out of her pores, spilling over onto her features.

“you said friday,” so sure of himself, so sure that she was wrong. how would he forget that?

unless something, or perhaps someone was shrouding his mind.

“well, what plans are more important than your girlfriend’s senior send off?” she asks, all defensive.

he struggles to answer, there’s no way he can really spin it to make it sound less bad, strangled noises drift from his throat as the words fail to form.

“exactly,” katie pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “you’ll just have to rearrange.”

steve doesn’t stay over, makes up some shoddy excuse about needing to study to get out of it. she’s not happy, obviously, but when is she?

he’s grateful that the campus is quiet as he stalks back to his dorm, thoughts swirling through his brain. everything is so confusing, his cushy little college life had been majorly disrupted and now all of the plans he had made had come crashing down.

there had been conversations about finding a house after graduation, moving in together randomly starting their life and yet, that couldn’t be further than what he wanted.

at least now.

steve finally gives up, turning to the only person he thinks will rationalise his thoughts, robin buckley. who has pulled her grandmother’s phone into the private dining room just for this conversation.

“we nearly kissed,” he spits out, eyeing the group of drunk students passing in the hallway. wouldn’t it be great if it somehow got back to katie through some nosy busybody.

“what? when? why didn’t you call me sooner?” she demands, “why didn’t you kiss? oh my god steve harrington, you’re so useless.”

“uh.. what do you mean why didn’t we kiss? remember my girlfriend? who’d chop my balls off if i ever cheated on her?”

“who cares? nobody likes her anyway,” robin roars right into his ear.

“i’m not gonna even acknowledge that.”

“okay, well, did you want to kiss her?”

steve pauses, perplexing the situation. he doesn’t need to really, of course he wanted to.

“..yeah.”

“well there you go!” she shrieks.

“it felt.. weird, i dunno, i think she wanted to too,” he curls the cord around his finger, “and now katie wants me to go to this senior send-off thing but there’s the exhibition.. i don’t know what to do,” his shoulders slumping.

“wait wait wait, what do you mean it felt weird?” dismissing his dilemma. you know, the thing he had actually called her about.

“well it felt right.”

the line goes silent but he can still hear her faint breathing down the line. she’s thinking, probably attempting to sweeten up her words. but eventually she sighs, “i think you know what to do.”

“but i don’t! rob i really don’t! why do you think i’m calling you at fucking one am?”

she clicks her tongue and steve can picture what smug look she has on her face, it was a signature feature of hers, especially when she’d been able to prove him wrong. “you do. i think you called me because you wanted me to tell you what you want to hear.. but i don’t even need to do that.”

he wails into the receiver, all he’d wanted was a clear cut answer from his best friend. a little advice and maybe some confirmation bias, was that too much to ask for?

“you’re no help,” he scowls, patting his now empty pockets in search of more coins, “i haven’t got any more change.. i’m gonna have to go,” sighing as he’s left on his own with his head once more.

“you’ll do the right thing, steve. i know you and i trust you,” before the line cuts out, the dial tone screams out.

he slams the piece of useless plastic back onto the holder. that wasn’t helpful, rather just some weird, reverse psychology lesson. he feels cheated, his first option of just flipping a coin would’ve been more helpful.

his feet drag along the carpet back to his room, swallowing the guilt and all of the other confusing emotions he seemed to have accumulated.

it’s funny that even though robin hadn’t exactly said anything specific, he’d known what she was talking about. it’s even funnier that as he climbs into bed, all he can think about is you.

steve hangs back, stood at the back while the speech finishes. he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s supposed to be looking at or talking to, incredibly out of place.

no one pays him any mind, too interested in whatever this balding man has to say.

you don’t spot him either, keeping your eyes trained to the art director. he can tell you’re nervous, picking indiscreetly at your hangnail, chewing on your cheek. you’d never liked, or been particularly good at public speaking, steve was your voice for many years. not that he minded.

there’s lots of chatter, people walking around the small space with their hands behind their back, putting on this facade that they were art snobs and not just weird middle-aged people looking for something to do on a saturday afternoon.

they all sort of disperse, ogling the paintings and such. leaving him stood in the middle of the room like a lemon, wondering if he should just go over to you or wait until this had all finished.

but you meet his eye momentarily, head snapping in his direction when you realise who it is. your lips slowly curve into a smile, ditching the conversation to weave through everyone to him.

“you came,” you state, like there was ever a chance of him not coming.

“i told you i would,” he’s not one to break a promise. ever.

“no i know but, robin mentioned something about your girlfriend, she didn’t know if you were.. forget it,” throwing your hands about, ridding the air of your words.

he’s not exactly surprised that you’d have doubts, not after your almost-kiss the other night. he hadn’t seen you since, too busy with the exhibit to sit and dwell on it, he bets.

steve shakes his head, “nah, i had something more important to do,” full of unbridled exhilaration, it’s like his body knew he had made the right choice.

you flush, avoiding his eyes as you usually do when you’re nervous or embarrassed. “well.. thank you,” shrugging him off. he so wish you wouldn’t.

he decides to just lay it all bare, tired of skirting around the truth and minimising his obviously very real feelings. “this isn’t the right time but,” smoothing down his wrinkled shirt, “i just wanted you to know that i’ve wanted to do this for weeks and.. shit,” he sighs, cupping your cheek and moving in before you can protest.

your lips connect, sending flames through his veins, you’re not expecting it judging by the lack of movement on your part, stood frozen even as he pulls away.

“sorry,” the first thing he says, watching your face as you stand shocked.

he was so sure that his feelings would be reciprocated, had pretty much convinced himself that you were destined to grow grey together but maybe he’d got it all wrong.

his cheeks burn as you just blink, time slows and he wishes that the floorboards would just collapse under him so he could disappear forever.

in lieu of a reply, you smash your faces together again, this time steve’s not quite expecting it, your noses bang against each others. but he doesn’t move, his smile growing against your lips.

there are a collection of muttered oohs from the crowd. it was rather a lot for a saturday morning.

“sorry,” you echo, biting down into your bottom lip, “not the wrong time at all,” your eyes shining through your spindly lashes.

steve bursts into laughter, drawing an even bigger crowd of eyes as he does so. his eyes dart around the vaguely stunned audience, “hey look, find me after.. i’ll be here,” gently pushing you off to go and do whatever the hell it is that artists do at these things.

you nod, all dazed and smiley, immediately falling into conversation about a painting.

he’s only dozing when the door creaks open, too encapsulated by sleep to bother to open his eyes. you’re dead to the world, snoring softly curled into his chest.

a quiet gasp rings out from the door and then just as expected, robin bounds over to your bed, poking his arm that was both underneath your shoulders and hanging off of the bed.

he peeks a look at his slightly deranged best friend, the lamp was just bright enough to showcase her enthusiastic grin, “you did it!” whispering far too loudly, “i knew you’d make the right choice,” buzzing around the room.

she damn near jumps in the air, clicking her heels together like some freak.

steve just closes his eyes again, falling back into sleep with a grin on his face and you between his arms.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

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bettyfrommars · 4 months

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

Eddie x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST PLAYLIST

It's 1987, the same year the movie Dirty Dancing was originally released. 21-year-old reader is spending the summer with her dad and aunt at an all-inclusive resort in Indiana while she figures out what she wants to do with her life. After that summer, nothing will never be the same. Eddie is in his late 20’s and works as maintenance staff, he is also the frontman for the house band, begrudgingly delivering top 40 hits for the guests, and a secret third thing. When work is over, there is a completely different scene happening at a place the employees call The Hideout. Wayne is the head maintenance man, Chrissy is a metalhead, and a few other surprises. Bonus: Steve as a sexy, tattooed musician because I can't help myself.

my blog is always 18+only, MDNI please. The only warnings for the first chapter have to do with mention of a death of a parent, mention of grief, allusions to depression, a tiny bit of aggression, and alcohol consumption. But please read chapter warnings as the story progresses, because there will be angst, hurt/comfort, violence (fighting), and smut. Reader is called Bird as a nickname.

A/N: this is a rewrite of an OC fic I wrote over a year ago, and damn, I really needed to change a lot because my writing has evolved so much. I know I posted a snippet last week, but it's all been changed. Thank you to those who have been excited about this, I know Dirty Dancing is a cherished film, so I am treating this retelling with reverence, while adding some creative spins, and I truly hope you enjoy. The ST characters in this fic do not know each other in the same way they did in the show. For instance, Eddie, Steve, and Chrissy all grew up together, but I do my best to stick with their original character traits. This first part lines up very close with the film, but after that, it diverges and becomes a bit different. Same story line, but also not.

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

word count: 6.3k

The soft murmur of a talk radio station hummed in the cement gray Mercedes-Benz 560, with your dad behind the wheel and his sister, your aunt Kim, in the passenger seat. From the backseat, you stared out the window with your headphones on, wishing for rain. The scenery was what you would expect from a place on earth that everyone considered idyllic, but you’d been exposed to so much lush greenery with that bright blue, theater backdrop of a sky for the last hour that you were starting to get a headache.

You pushed your wayfarer sunglasses up to rub the bridge of your nose, and then flipped the tape over in your Walkman before clicking it shut to press play. You were listening to a mixtape you’d made especially for the trip, the spine even said “road trip from hell”, but the first one on side b was Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac, and you closed your eyes for the next several songs. You were doing your best not to think about how you’d be trapped in BFE Indiana for a whole month.

You were also doing your best not to think about how your mother would not be home when you got back, or worse yet, the fact that you would never see her again. Never feel her generous hugs in those Laura Ashley dresses, smelling of Shalimar; never hear her voice at the other end of the line reminding you to eat something.

Your aunt said your name and your eyes snapped open. It was perfect timing because tears were beginning to form at your lash line. She had turned around in her seat and was trying to get your attention.

You pulled your headphones down around your neck. “Sorry?”

“The lake,” the expression on her face harbored more excitement than you’d ever felt in your entire life. “Isn’t it gorgeous? We’re going to get pedicures at the spa tomorrow, I already booked it.”

You glanced at your father’s stoic profile and then back to Kim. You felt bad for your aunt, getting stuck on a trip with two sad, mopey fucks who were too depressed to get excited about the things that thrilled normal people. You were the walking wounded.

“Pedicures, great,” your smile did not reach your eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice, as her enthusiasm doggedly refused to wane.

It had been almost four months since you lost her, and the world was still too…bright. Everyone was so talkative and alive and you couldn’t relate.

You looked out over the smooth expanse of lake that was nestled perfectly in the trees like you were in some type of miniature scale model rebuild of a town. Your aunt asked your dad, Owen, if he was still listening to the news, and when he shook his head, she changed the radio station to a golden oldies station and was satisfied with the tune Big Girls Don’t Cry by Frankie Vallie.

“You’ll love this cabin, Bird,” your dad said to you as the Mercedes crested the hill and began to maneuver down to your destination on a narrow, two-lane highway flanked with towering trees. A big green and white sign welcomed them to Hawkins Landing. “There’s a whole top floor where you can set up for your lessons.”

You turned away, back to the window, hiding the way your nose wrinkled. You thought maybe a perk of this getaway would be to have a break from practicing the cello you’d been tied to for over a decade, but no luck. He’d been forced to give up his dream of being a musician, and now you were expected to carry the torch for him.

You tried to come up with one thing you did in life that was not to please someone else, or boost some idea they had about you, and couldn’t come up with squat.

Besides reading. And taking long walks with music to clear your head. Those two were yours, and they could only be taken from your cold, dead, hands.

From the Hawkins Landing brochure your aunt had given you, it was clear that the property was enormous. Some 30 or 40 guest cabins scattered around, a main house that functioned as a hotel but also housed two different restaurants. A golf course, boat rentals, tennis courts, an outdoor theater, and a third restaurant situated on the water. Along with the full service spa, there were indoor and outdoor swimming pools, plus any class you could imagine wanting to take, from salsa dancing and water skiing, to chess and crochet.

Hawkins Landing was like a camp for adults who enjoyed alcoholic beverages.

There was a security checkpoint at the main entrance with two guards inside. The taller one with the neatly trimmed red beard recognized your father from the jacket cover on one of his many books. Thrillers mostly, horror if you squint. He nervously asked for an autograph, but Owen was very polite, adjusting his tortoise shell glass as he took the black marker that the guard was offering him.

After the checkpoint, it wasn’t long before the road opened into an expansive rose garden with a large fountain dead center, and the big main house with its wrap-around porch just to the right. You pushed your sunglasses up to get a look at the people mingling around, getting the idea that the median age there was 45, and it was mostly families.

The guards had given your dad a foldout map of the property and told him to check in at the main house to get the keys to the cabin they were staying in. The car moved at a crawl at the roundabout, and then came to park where a sign announced new guest check-ins.

Your dad told you to sit tight while he went in to grab the keys, and your attention trailed off to a black golf cart with a white awning that wheeled in like a racecar and took position in front of the Mercedes. It sat there close to the curb, idling. You could see there was a woman behind the wheel, and she was looking straight ahead, giving you her profile. Chin length, dark gold hair, just long enough for a ponytail, and the words “Hawkins Landing Staff” written in yellow cursive on the back of her navy blue jacket. Where her sleeve was pushed up at her elbow, you noticed some type of tattooed lettering there, and her fingernails were painted black.

Up ahead, you caught sight of someone strolling down the sidewalk toward the car with a hand in his pocket. It was a guy with honey tipped chocolate hair styled in a pompadour with a curl that bounced at his forehead, wearing tan chinos and a maroon, button down short sleeve with the square bulge of a pack of smokes in his front pocket. A tattoo peeked out from the V of his shirt, and there was another design on his bicep. He wore a pinky ring on one hand and rolled a toothpick around in his mouth as he sidled up to the golf cart to say something to the woman driving it. They bumped knuckles and talked for a bit like they were very familiar, him with one foot up on the running board of the cart.

“Steve, there you are,” from the open window, your attention bounced to a short, dark haired woman who’d just come out of the building and stood alongside your dad on the sidewalk. A closer look told you that her name tag said Joyce.

The guy with the toothpick in his mouth straightened, smoothing the front of his shirt with his hand. “Hey Joyce, I was just—”

Apparently uninterested in what he was about to say, she took him by the crook of the arm. She introduced you all by your family name, and let him know that you were “her special guests”, and you assumed that had to do with your dad being a famous author, or maybe she said that about every new family. While you chose to not do much else than offer a small wave from the back seat like you had no autonomy, Kim got out to greet them properly.

“This is Steve,” Joyce gestured to him with a Vanna White hand. “If you ever want to take guitar lessons this summer, he’s one of our best.”

“Or, if you just want to have some fun,” Steve’s eyes seemed to be searching Kim’s face, and then he shrugged. “I mean, I run the boats on the dock too, so if you want to ski or—”

Kim got flustered and tried to find her words, fussing with the lapel of her corduroy jacket in a way you’d never witnessed before. “I’m…I mean, sure, who wouldn’t want to be on the lake at a place like this?”

Kim hated boats and got seasick very easily, so you found her new interest amusing.

Joyce politely waved Steve off and he went, albeit reluctantly, backing up with slow steps to wave farewell. The smile stretching across his face grew wider the longer Kim couldn’t take her eyes off of him. When he was finally jogging up the sidewalk to get to where he needed to be, Joyce continued to try and sell Kim and your dad on the resort, even though you were already booked for the month.

“Sunday night is Bingo night. There’s karaoke in The Antler Room on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you need to check out our house band if you can. They’re playing tonight on the back patio, and the rhythm guitar is sensational. She used to perform with Vixen and Lita Ford,” she handed over the necessary keys and pointed the way to get to the cabin on the map.

“Just follow us,” Joyce said, hopping into the golf cart next to the girl with the forearm tattoo.

They led the way down a long, winding stretch with lush lawn and manicured hedges on either side, littered with people coming up from the pool in their bathing suits. There appeared to be a Tai Chi lesson happening on the lawn near the rose garden, and some type of painting class going on just above them on a balcony.

Made you wonder why summer people always had to stay so busy.

The cabin you’d be staying in was down a side road, tucked at the end of a private driveway with a view of the lake. It had five bedrooms, which was more than enough, but one of them would immediately turn into Owen’s writing room so that he could work on his latest novel.

You were careful to tuck your Walkman into your bag as the Mercedes coasted into its parking spot. Squinting up at the place, you were somewhat distracted by how much you liked the creepy, old feel of the whitewashed cabin, and you underestimated how far from the curb you were when you stepped out, stumbling to the side.

The girl with the forearm tattoo caught you in both arms, preventing you from putting all of your weight on your twisted ankle.

“Whoa,” she moved her supportive grip from your waist to your elbow as you righted yourself. “You okay?”

Your heart shot into your throat, and then you coughed a laugh, covering your face. “What a way to start the summer.”

She said her name was Robin, and there was a polite handshake exchange. She tripped over her words a bit. “It’s not every day that someone falls for me.”

“Well, I’m pretty clumsy, you might need to stay close,” and the two of you shared a self-conscious laugh as you led the way to the trunk full of baggage.

When you reached in to grab your suitcase, Robin teased, “hey, that’s my job,” before leaning further in to take the oddly shaped black hard case, the satin of her jacket skimming your arm. She struggled with it at first, but then held it up by the handle and gave you a sideways look.

“This yours?” She asked, cocking one eyebrow up. “You’re a musician?”

“No, well, yes I am but no I, I play the cello,” you stammered, not sure why it was hard to get the words out. “But here, I can carry that. It’s big and heavy and—”

Robin winked. “I got it,” and then she snatched another suitcase with the other hand and shuffled by you to make her way up to the porch.

Once you were all settled inside and Joyce had explained all of the amenities, you and Kim pushed back the curtains and watched the two go from the living room window. Just before they took off in the cart, Robin sent you a wave.

“She looks like a nice girl,” Kim had her arms folded over her chest. “Maybe the two of you could—”

“I know you’re worried about me, okay, but I don’t need to make any friends this summer,” you were holding the case for your cello in front of you with both hands, using it as a metaphorical barrier. “I like being alone.”

By the time you put your stuff away in the bedroom you’d be staying in, your dad was already typing away in his writing room, you could hear the keys of his Selectric click-clacking.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you called across the rustic but spacious cabin living room. “I’m going to look around the main house.”

Kim barely caught your words as she was struggling with her glasses to read an ingredient label as she put some dry goods away in the kitchen. “Mhmm sounds good, have fun. Be back in time for dinner, we have reservations at…whatever that place is called. Your dad knows.”

You tapped the Swatch on your wrist and gave an absent wave over your shoulder.

With your headphones on, you made your way down to the main sidewalk that split off in two directions, bordering either side of the swimming pool and tennis courts. You found the bike path that wound down along the lake to the boat dock, and then up into a lush pocket of dense forest. Two teenage girls on rollerblades almost crashed into you as they bolted around the bend, giggling. Trying to decide if you wanted to go toward the water or into the woods, you watched a staff member veer off onto an uneven stone pathway and your curiosity was piqued.

Creeping along in their wake, you marched up a hill for what felt like forever, with Bring on the Dancing Horses by Echo and the Bunnymen playing in your ears, until you realized with a start that you’d already arrived at the main building. It loomed up ahead like a mansion from some old gothic romance novel.

You continued to plod your way along the trunks of trees, until you spotted a group having a chat on the wide porch, and took a few steps back.

They were all leaning against the railing in a semicircle, facing each other, so that you could see the Hawkins Landing Staff on the back of a few of their navy jackets.

One of them was Steve from earlier, next to him was a girl with a blonde ponytail, and then two others.

“I met that author guy today,” Steve took a drag and then blew the smoke up in the air, away from everyone’s face. “The one who wrote Darkness on the Hill, that one they made into a movie.”

You realized that it was your dad he was talking about.

Not looking where you were stepping, you caught your toe on a tree root and your arms windmilled before you were able to find your balance, floundering to duck behind another tree. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, trying not to gasp at the pain in your foot. Grimacing, you turned the volume down on the headphones that were around your neck to better hear what they were saying.

“That actor from that one show about law and order is staying in cabin 8,” the girl with the ponytail said. “Housekeeping says he finishes a bottle of whiskey a night.”

But then, there was another voice. “Now that sounds like a great fucking vacation to me,” followed by the heavy footfalls of boots on wood as a new person approached the group.

The sight of the new arrival made you feel like your brain was wiped clean—-the whole world came to a screeching halt.

Swallowing hard, all of your attention tunneled on him; his long dark hair with bangs that crowded his eyes, a thin but muscular build, tattoos scattered over his exposed arms, and a leather jacket hooked over his shoulder with one finger. He combed a hand through his hair as he walked, chunky metal rings catching the light, and headed over to the blonde girl. You took note of every movement as she passed him her half-smoked cig and he gave her a quick kiss on the temple.

Was that his girlfriend?

He stepped back to introduce the younger guy he had with him. “This Jamie, my new maintenance trainee,” he used the hand holding his smoke to point to each one on the balcony individually. You really didn’t pay attention until he got to the blonde one. “...that one there is the lovely Chrissy, and the moody one with the hairy chest is Steve. They’re the other musicians I told you about.”

Jamie had short black, curly hair and a hoop piercing in one ear. He lit his own smoke while the metalhead started in with a story about a pump exploding at the pool house, complete with wild hand gestures.

“Hey, there the fuck you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you losers.”

Another voice, another person making their way down the long stretch of squeaky wood planks from the front of the building. You stepped closer, snapping a twig under your foot, eliciting a worried lip bite.

Everyone stayed right where they were, but for Eddie who moved in front of Jamie in a protective way. The guy approaching at a stroll had very nondescript good looks with his wheat blonde hair in a tight cut that looked freshly trimmed. While the others were dressed more casually, this one wore a white dress shirt and tie with black trousers, as if he had some fancy place to be.

“You talking to me?” The metalhead flicked his cigarette ash and stepped forward to meet the new guy before he could come any closer to the group. “Cause, if so, you might want to change your tone, precious.”

“Eddie, don’t,” Chrissy said, and then she stood up, addressing the guy in the suit. “Jason, what the fuck do you want?”

Eddie, you moved your lips, whispering the name to yourself. His name was Eddie.

Jason put his hands up in mock surrender. “Why so hostile?” He turned to Eddie. “Joyce has been trying to find you for an hour. There’s a toilet backed up in one of the cabins, and trash that needs to go to the dump. Sounds to me like you’re having a hard time doing your job, Munson.”

You scuttled like a crab, moving to a spot where you could see their faces instead of the backs of their heads.

So that you could see Eddie’s face.

Steve checked his watch and pushed off of the railing to snub his cig out on the bottom of his shoe. “I gotta run. See you bastards at the show tonight,” he said in passing, shoving both hands into his trouser pockets. He walked right into Jason, shoulder checking him, before casually going on his way. Jason shot him an evil look.

“Well,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Tell Joyce I got the message,” and then he motioned for Jamie to follow him.

“Too bad we can’t take you out with the rest of the trash, freak,” Jason mumbled, loud enough for you to hear every word, and a tension crackled in the air.

The metalhead stopped dead in his tracks and drew his shoulders back.

When he finally turned on his heel, he wore a satisfied smirk, inclining his head, as if he’d been waiting for Jason to say something all along.

Chrissy moved as if she were about to go over and break up whatever was about to happen, but one of the others put a handout and stopped her.

“Just keep sending your laundry home to mommy, baby boy, and leave the real work to me,” Eddie said, and then he flicked the butt of his cigarette at Jason’s face.

Jason moved his head just in time so that the hot cherry missed his cheek by a hair and bounced off the wall behind him, spraying sparks. Chrissy and the others snickered at how beet red Jason’s face got, but he didn’t say another word, he just waited for Eddie and Jamie to be far enough away before he went back around to the front entrance.

When the coast was clear, you stood and made your way to the path again. With a curse you realized you were going to be late for that dinner reservation, and picked up speed to a slow, sad jog.

You found yourself thinking that maybe being trapped at Hawkins Landing for the summer wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—----

Your aunt Kim gave you an exasperated look when you all finally sat down for dinner, being that you’d made everyone 20 minutes late for the reservation. There didn’t appear to be a single open table when you arrived, but Joyce had made sure to keep the one by the window facing the gardens open for your party. She came around to introduce the guy who was to be your waiter, and you sat up a little straighter in your seat when you realized it was Jason from earlier. The way he’d been dressed out on the porch made sense now, as his uniform was the same as all of the other waitstaff.

Near the end of the meal, Joyce returned to the table in her black pencil skirt and fitted jacket, but this time, she was with a guy who you could tell wanted to look like Don Johnson in Miami Vice, but it came off more as Gary from Weird Science.

“I'd like you to meet Troy, he’s the son of Mr. Brenner, the owner of the resort,” there was a reluctance about her, as if she’d been forced at gunpoint to introduce him.

Troy stared at you with an uncomfortable intensity, making your attention fall to your plate.

“I’m in charge when my father isn’t around,” Troy said with a smug grin, putting his hands in his white trouser pockets, and you spotted some type of metal retainer on his teeth.

Joyce cleared her throat, annoyed that his statement was far from true. But she recognized that it was part of her job to indulge the little shit.

“I just graduated with a business degree from Georgetown,” he gloated, giving you a wink. “This place will all be mine one day.”

Your father exchanged a look with your aunt over his chocolate mousse.

“Well, it’s nice to know someone else your age here, isn’t it, Bird? Maybe you two kids should go have some fun tonight,” Kim chirped.

If your aunt wasn’t so far away, you would’ve kicked her under the table.

Troy bent at the waist so that his face wasn’t far from yours. “I’d love to show you around after dinner, if you’re interested in a tour?”

Before you could issue a vague excuse like, “sorry I can’t, I have a headache,” Kim spoke for you again.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she even clapped her hands, applauding it.

In the end, you went with him to make Kim happy, to get her off your back, hopefully for the rest of the trip.

An hour or two with a pretentious prick wouldn’t hurt you.

—-------

Troy wasn’t bad company, but he was quite full of himself. He had interesting stories about his extensive travels, but then he also told awkward stories that were possibly fibs about how many models he’d dated, and expanded on how he wanted to be married with two kids by the time he was 30.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine thinking that far ahead, and he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise.

You followed close behind through the huge, busy kitchen of the restaurant you’d just dined in, and he tried to hold your hand when he introduced you to the head chef, but you were sly, and pulled it away to cross your arms over your chest. He gave you a tour of the ballroom and took a stroll through the other restaurant on the opposite end of the building that had a much more relaxed feel, low lighting, red carpet, and a bar at the center.

You went down to the boat docks and walked along the pier. The stars were breathtaking, but Troy didn’t notice, he was too busy trying to convince you to go out on his boat with him. You declined, taking a page from Kim’s book to mention a freshly born curse of violent seasickness.

You had your elbows on the railing at the pier, enjoying the velvet reflection of the crescent moon in the lake, and you could feel your jaw grow tense under the weight of Troy’s stare.

On the verge of telling him you were ready to head back to your cabin, the sound of music drifted down from somewhere on the property.

Yes, no mistaking, it was Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money, but it was being executed with someone else’s voice, and whoever that person was had some serious pipes.

And then there was the distinct sound of a feminine voice chiming in with the parts from the song Be My Baby Now by the Ronettes in the chorus.

"Is that a live band?" You turned away from him to try and find the source of the music. It wasn’t coming from the restaurant on the water or any of the cabins to your right.

"There's a cover band every Friday out behind the main house. You want to check it out?" He held the crook of his arm out to you and hesitated before you took it. His ego sufficiently stroked now that you wanted to spend more time with him.

Around the side of the building, overlooking the golf course, was a huge, fenced in back patio garden area with a private hot tub and pool for hotel guests. Troy led you through a white arbor wound with ivy to find that there were plenty of people mingling, drinking, and dancing. The area was mostly manicured lawn, with stone pathways meandering around from a concrete floor that was right in front of the small riser that was meant to be a stage. You imagined that a million weddings had taken place there.

At the door was a bar, and Troy got you a flute of champagne, which you downed with abandon and asked for another. While he was getting your second glass, you made your way along under several boughs of white string lights to get a view of the stage and who was performing the top tier Eddie Money cover.

Just as you stepped into the crowd of people shuffling to the beat, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was at the mic: Eddie the metalhead.

Guitar slug low at his hips, wearing a tuxedo with light blue cummerbund and bow tie, his hair neatly combed back and fixed into a knot at the back of his head so that you could really see the curves of his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was performing the song against his will.

The rest of the band were dressed similarly, and you instantly knew the one strumming the bass guitar as Steve, and the woman on backup vocals rocking on the rhythm was Chrissy, who wore a conservative skirt and flats. There was also a keyboardist and a drummer, both of whom you did not recognize.

“What’s your major?” Troy asked, breaking your reverie to pass you the glass of champagne. “In college?”

You were confused for a second but then, “oh, I took the year off to…figure some things out.” The full truth of it was that you had dropped out completely and had no intention of going back.

“I spent a summer in Greece my freshman year,” he offered, unprovoked. “The women there are, wow, so smoking hot.”

The song finished and Eddie took his tuxedo jacket off, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing the scattered tattoos you’d noticed earlier. He leaned over to whisper something to Chrissy, motioned at the drummer, and then stepped back into place, brushing a loose wisp of hair off his cheek.

“Find someone special for this next one,” he told the crowd, and was answered with a rush of murmurs.

The first notes to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, a slow song, lit up the space, and your stomach tightened, fearing that Troy would ask you to dance. As he escorted you to the floor, you tried to keep your head down and stay to the back of the crowd, but Troy kept maneuvering you closer to the stage.

I get so lost, sometimes

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are

You watched the performance from over Troy’s shoulder and followed his lead, shifting from foot to foot. You were mesmerized by the muscles in Eddie’s hands as he played each note, and the way Chrissy came in like an angel on the chorus.

He’d captured the attention of everyone in the garden at that moment, and there was a group of women watching him from the sidelines, whispering to each other, possibly about how they wanted to eat him alive.

They were all thinking the same thing you were: Eddie was magic.

He liked to close his eyes when he sang, so you weren’t expecting him to be staring right at you when he opened them again.

All my instincts, they return

And the grand facade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside

He wouldn’t break eye contact, so you eventually had to; the intensity of it was giving you butterflies.

Troy stepped back and tried to get your attention. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You nodded, but your gaze only drifted back to Eddie. Troy followed your line of sight and then dropped both of his hands with a frustrated cluck of his tongue.

"What the hell is he doing up there?" He hissed to himself when it dawned on him that Eddie had been behind the mic that whole time. "That's our goddamn maintenance guy. He shouldn't be up there."

In a huff, Troy pushed through the crowd and headed over to one of the other staff members against the fence. Bird could see him shouting and pointing over at the stage. Whatever the staff guy said did not seem to cheer him up a bit, and he came back to your side, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess our normal front man Drew has the flu," he reported back. "It's just so hard to find reliable help these days."

Eddie was making the song his own, and that was what you liked about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Troy put his hand on your lower back to escort you out. “The music sucks.”

—--

It was 9:30 when you made it back to the main foyer, standing in the middle of the lobby next to an obnoxious floral arrangement, when Troy tried to get you to go back to his cabin and watch a movie, only to get respectfully declined.

“Don’t worry about your parents,” Troy said, brushing his finger over your chin. “They know you’re with me, so they’re probably the happiest parents at Hawkins Landing.”

The guy had quite an ego on him, you had to give him that. It was unsurpassed by most.

In the end, you got away, and as soon as your Mary Jane’s hit the cobblestones outside the front door, you could feel yourself trotting at a quicker pace, eager to put some distance between you and Troy and everyone else, for that matter. You didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the main hotel to be able to check over your shoulder and not see it through the trees.

It was then that you realized that you had a free chunk of time, and you could do with it whatever you wished. Your dad would think you were still with Troy, and as long as you made it back to the cabin before midnight, they wouldn’t worry.

As much as it was the dead of summer, Indiana by the water had very cool nights, and you buttoned up the jean jacket you were wearing just as you noticed a yellow sign on a lamppost to the right that said: Staff Quarters, No Guests Allowed Beyond This Point

And that made you want to venture in even more.

You checked around to make sure there was no one there to notice that you blatantly ignored the sign, and just kept going. The path at your feet changed from stone to a well-worn dirt path through the grass, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the sound of music erupting in the distance.

You passed by staff quarters, a few weathered red cabins with white trim, lined close together, and there were some people hanging out on their porches who gave you curious looks, but didn’t seem too concerned with your presence.

Following the source of the music, you descended down into unknown, poorly lit territory that no longer looked like it was part of the Hawkins Landing property.

(song playing in the distance is Dangerous Meeting by Mercyful Fate)

It was then that you noticed a pale yellow light coming from the windows of a building up ahead. Just as the dirt path turned to gravel, you identified the music you were hearing as heavy metal, and it was bolstered by distinct shouts and cheers, even a high-pitched scream or two.

“Hey,” a voice startled you from out of the dark and you jumped. “What are you going out here?”

Heart racing, you spun around to find out it was Robin.

She was struggling to carry several things in her arms as she walked and you rushed over to her.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, grinning ear to ear at how glad you were to see someone familiar.

“My cabin is right over there,” she bucked her chin in a direction behind you.

She had a crossbody bag over her shoulder, an amp in one hand, and she was juggling two guitar cases, one of which she fumbled, and you managed to catch it before it hit the ground. You wrapped your arms around the hard case with the Scorpions sticker on it, silently offering to carry it the rest of the way.

“You don’t have to—” Robin started, adjusting the bag over her shoulder.

“I want to,” you looked back up at the house where the music was coming from, assuming that was where she was headed. “I carry that big cello around all the time, remember? I’m used to it.”

Robin moved her jaw from side to side and she looked conflicted. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Your eyes were still locked on the house hidden in the trees. “What is that place?”

“Listen,” she gave you an imploring look. “I will get in so much trouble if they find out you came out here. Your dad won’t want you here, trust me.”

Her warning did nothing to squelch your curiosity. “I’m a big girl, I go wherever I want. Plus, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Besides,” she gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrow. “If your boyfriend Troy finds out you were here, Brenner will fire all of us.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you snapped. But then, softer, you added, “I barely just met him tonight.”

Robin wasn’t in the mood to try and rip the guitar out of your hands, and so, with a heavy sigh, she caved.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But stay close to me, okay? You’re not at the resort anymore, sweetheart.”

You nodded, waiting for her to lead the way.

She took a step forward and then stopped and turned on her heel to point at the instrument in your arms.

“Be extra careful with that, it’s Eddie’s baby. He’ll grow horns if anything happens to it.”

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Hi! If you are familiar with the movie Dirty Dancing, you have an idea about what scene is coming up next. I've really enjoyed lining up certain events with the movie, but things will obviously be different in this because I want it to have some surprises in store for you.

Every chapter from here on out will start with a list of the songs, ones that will give hints for what to expect. I wanted to make music a big part of this fic, because it was a huge deal in the movie, and the original soundtrack is still dear to me.

as always, thank you so much for reading and interacting with this story! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. or send me an ask and let me know what you think ❤️

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taglist: @tlclick73 @micheledawn1975 @kurdtbean @katethetank @elvendria @spookysqaush86 @somethingvicked @stylesxmunson @laurenlokirby @sapphire4082

#Dirty Metal Summer #dirty dancing au #Eddie Munson series #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson smut #Stranger Things fic #Steve Harrington #robin buckley

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andvys · 6 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 22

Warnings: none. mostly fluff. slight jealousy.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader , Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: The summer days get hotter and your feelings confuse you more and more. A day at the lake might make things better.. or worse.

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: So, I really really struggled with this chapter and spent more time rewriting it than actually writing it. I'm sorry if it seems a little scattered and rushed, I promise the next one will be better. @hellfire--cult thank you as always, you were such a big help, you always are but especially with this chapter so thank you, love

series masterlist

Steve never thought that he would end up here. Working at some ice cream shop with a girl who despised him for the first few weeks. He couldn’t blame her. Robin is your friend, she knows what he did to you and it’s not just that. Up until this spring, he didn’t even really know who she was, she was just someone he passed by in school and didn’t even bother to glance at or even acknowledge.

Now that he got to know her a little, he couldn’t help but take a liking towards her. She may be snappy at times but she is.. cool. He likes her. Not in the way he liked Nancy or you. But, in a way he should’ve liked Nancy – just as a friend.

He calls her friend. Robin refuses to call him that.

She likes to pretend that they are enemies but really, they finally get along after weeks of bickering at Scoops Ahoy. After a little incident that got them locked up in the storage room for a whole night, they got even closer – who knew that weed and a little heart to heart would get them to like each other?

Robin looks at Steve differently now, her looks aren’t filled with hate or annoyance anymore – well, she still rolls her eyes and makes fun of him but it’s not the same anymore.

Sometimes when you’re around, she gives him pitiful looks. He can’t stand it. He doesn’t want or even deserve pity, not from her, not from anyone.

She is looking at him with that look right now.

He sighs, trying to give her somewhat of a smile before he looks down at the red solo cup in his hand. Your giggles make his heart flutter and hurt at the same time. You are sitting on one of the logs around the fire, with Eddie. His jacket is wrapped around your shoulders, your legs are thrown over his thigh, you are practically sitting on his lap. You are nodding along to something he’s saying.

You two are in your own little world, ignoring the rest of the people around you. It’s hard to tell what the two of you are. Every day, he wonders if you have made that move yet. The one he made with you back when you went from friends to something more.

People are celebrating the fourth of July with a bonfire party at Lovers Lake, just like every year. In all the previous years before this one, you were by his side, giggling at something he would say, wearing his jacket, sitting on his lap.

Now you sit there with Eddie.

And it all feels so wrong, you shouldn’t be there with Eddie.

You belong with him.

“Are you okay?”

Robin’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he looks at her, nodding.

She tilts her head, giving him another pitiful look.

“You’re not drunk, are you?”

He shakes his head, chuckling softly, “no, whenever I get drunk or high I end up doing or saying something stupid.”

She chuckles, though, it’s more of a sad chuckle. When they got stuck in the storage room, Steve opened up about a lot of things – things that he would have never talked about had he been sober.

He let her have a look inside.

Robin didn’t think that she would ever understand Steve and why he left you. But, she understands him now, a little.

He was scared of how much he loved you.

“Do you wanna go home?”

“Nah, I’m your ride, remember?”

She pats his back, giving him a smile, “that’s right, dude. You should go and have some fun.”

He snorts, shaking his head. He glances at you, not expecting to see you looking at him – staring at him. He can’t read the look in your eyes but he can see the smile that tugs at your lips. You raise your hand, waving at him, shyly.

His eyes light up, his lips twitch.

Robin notices the look on his face, the happiness that takes over in an instant. She follows his gaze.

“Do you wanna go talk to her?” Robin asks, nudging his shoulder.

He looks at you with softened eyes. His shoulders fall when you break eye contact, turning away from him to face Eddie again.

“No,” he whispers.

“Why not?” Robin asks, knowing that he wants to talk to you.

“She’s with Eddie.”

“So? You talk to her every time they come to Scoops together.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

Steve nudges his chin towards you, “look at them.”

Robin sighs, looking over at you and Eddie. His arm is now wrapped around your shoulder, he is smiling as you whisper something in his ear.

“I won’t interrupt that.”

She knows how Steve feels about you, she knows how Eddie feels about you but, what she doesn’t know is how you feel about them or how you feel in general. You don’t talk about your feelings, you don’t know how to, every time you did try to talk about them with her, you fell into a ramble, mixing up words, stringing together sentences that would make no sense, confusing both her and yourself.

It wasn’t always like this.

You used to be able to talk about your feelings. You never rambled or broke down in the middle of a sentence and she felt like you were getting better after each conversation you had.

Then, you went on that date with Ray and everything went downhill after that.

You spent so much time trying to get over the pain that Steve had caused you. You got stronger and more confident. And it seemed as though you got – or, started to get over him. It took months to get up and all it took was a night to fall back down.

She sighs.

“I get it, Steve.”

“Careful.”

“I am careful!”

“No, you’re not! You’ve been on this ladder unsupervised.”

“So?”

“So? You’re a clutz!”

You roll your eyes, snorting at his words.

“No, I’m not, Eddie.”

You finish taping the new Metallica poster to the wall, glancing down at him, “alright, give me the next one, please?”

Eddie chuckles, he lets go of the ladder and leans down, reaching for the last poster in the box. He unrolls it and his eyes widen.

“Holy shit, that’s a new Iron Maiden poster!” He gasps, staring up at you with big eyes.

You giggle, nodding, “I ‘accidentally’ ordered two.”

He furrows his brows.

“Got one extra for you.”

His eyes light up and a smile appears on his face.

“No fucking way!”

You laugh at his little outburst.

“It’s in the breakroom, I’ll get it after I put this one up,” you say, pointing to the poster in his hand.

“You’re the best, did I ever tell you that? In case I haven’t, you’re the best, sweetheart!”

He holds it out for you, grinning at you as your eyes meet.

You shake your head in amusement, giggling, “I think you are the best but thanks.”

He grabs the ladder again, eying you with a smile on his face.

To know that you thought of him while making orders for the store, to know that you got something for him, something that he didn’t even ask for, makes him so happy.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” You ask.

He watches the way you furrow your brows as you tape the poster right next to the Metallica one. You bite your lip, focusing on getting it even.

“Uh, I’m not sure, what do you feel like doing?”

“Dinner and a movie night?” You suggest, “Heather is throwing a party but I don’t feel like going.”

“Me neither.”

“So, dinner and movies it is.”

“Sounds perfect to me, bab– s-sweetheart,” he clears his throat.

Baby. He wanted to call you baby.

Your cheeks heat up. You dare to glance at him, finding him looking completely flustered. His eyes are closed, his brows are knit together and his cheeks glow red. Cute. You have to suppress a giggle.

“Alright, all done!” You clap your hands together after finishing hanging up the last poster. You grab the tape and the scissors, handing them to Eddie before you make your way down the ladder.

“Careful,” he teases you.

You only roll your eyes in response. You jump on the ground, looking up at him with a proud smile, “see? Not a clutz.”

You shouldn’t have spoken too soon. The moment you take a step forward, you trip over the open box on the ground, stumbling forward. His hands land on your waist.

Your hands fall to his chest, your knee buckles but you don’t fall, he holds you tightly.

“Not a clutz, huh?” He chuckles as he looks down at you.

“That was an accident,” you pout, looking up into his eyes.

You furrow your brows, his racing heart that you feel beneath your touch pulls your attention to his chest and for the first time, you notice how much bigger he actually is, how much taller he is.

How did you not notice before?

“Hey guys!”

Robin’s panicked voice causes the both of you to flinch. You both turn to look at her, frowning in confusion when you see the way she looks between you both.

You slowly step away from Eddie.

Why is she looking at you like that? Nothing happened.

“Hey,” you smile as you lean down, picking up the empty box.

Eddie gives Robin a questioning look, tilting his head to the side.

Her eyes are wide and she’s smiling, nervously.

What the hell is she so nervous about?

A moment later, Steve walks into the store. Oh, right. Her new best friend, the one who gets jealous at every interaction he sees between you and him. Eddie rolls his eyes, not at him but at Robin and how protective she is of his feelings.

“Oh hey,” Steve mumbles, turning to look at Robin in surprise, “you come here on your day off?”

She nods, stepping further into the store, “yep.”

“Buying new records for the car you don’t have?” He teases, smirking.

“Ha ha,” she rolls her eyes.

He chuckles and finally turns to face you.

“Hey.”

You smile at him, “hi.”

Steve glances at Eddie who turns away, pretending to look around.

“So uh, what are you two doing here?” You ask, chuckling.

Robin raises her brows, pointing at Eddie, “what’s he doing here?”

You walk behind the counter, putting the box down. You reach for the drink on the counter, lifting it up, “he brought me coffee and lunch.”

Robin nods, tilting her head, she smiles at Eddie, “you’re such a sweet friend, Eddie.”

He rolls his eyes at her, mumbling something under his breath before he turns away again.

“I uh– I wanted to ask if you wanted to spend lunch break with me but, I see you got something already,” Steve mumbles, running his fingers through his hair as he looks down.

“Oh, maybe next time?” You ask, trying to give him a smile.

‘Maybe next time’ sounds like a nicer version of ‘no, thank you.’

Steve knew that it was a mistake to come here and ask you to spend time with him, alone. But, he wanted to try.

“W-We can go out for lunch together… on Monday?” You offer.

His eyes light up and he looks up from the counter, he nods with a smile on his face.

“I’d love to.”

He smiles at you and you smile at him. Neither of you notice the annoyed look on Eddie’s face.

“And I wanted to ask if you wanna go to the lake tomorrow? You, me, Chrissy,” Robin smiles, “and your two uh–” she stops herself from saying what she actually wants to say as she gestures to Steve and Eddie, “buddies.”

Steve squints his eyes at her, “buddies?” He whispers.

“It’s supposed to get super hot tomorrow,” Robin says, ignoring Steve and Eddie’s glare.

“Uh– sure, why not,” you shrug, “Eddie, do you wanna go?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You lift your brows, giving her a smile, “great.”

She lifts her hands, giving you two thumbs up, “great,” she grins, nudging Steve’s shoulder.

You should have known that Robin and Chrissy wouldn’t be here on time – poor Steve is probably in his car waiting for them. A part of you is relieved that Eddie didn’t have to pick them up though, you would still be waiting for them.

You and Eddie are sitting on a large picnic blanket, looking at the water as you both snack on the grapes you brought. You are still in your sundress but the longer you sit out in the sun, the more you feel like ripping it off and jumping into the cold water.

There aren’t many people around, a few kids with their parents, some teenagers you recognize from school but you and Eddie chose to sit away from everyone else.

You are both quiet, enjoying each other’s company in silence as you wait for the others.

“They are taking so long,” you whine.

“I know,” Eddie chuckles.

You glance at him, he stretches his legs out and leans back, looking at you with a smile on his face.

“Do you wanna go swimming?”

You bite your lip, looking him up and down. You take your sunglasses off and put them on your bag.

“If you come with me,” you say, giving him a sweet smile.

“Do you think I’ll let you swim alone? There could be monsters and shit, I gotta protect you.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Monsters in Lovers Lake? The only monsters I see are those teenage boys – hold on, is that Carver?” You ask, scrunching your face up in disgust as you point at the blond who just jumped into the water, “you might be right, there are monsters.”

Eddie chuckles, “yeah, that’s a real monster.”

You start to unbutton your dress.

Eddie gets up, reaching for the hem of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, throwing it on the ground, it lands with a soft thud beside you. You look at the shirt as you push the dress down to your waist, looking up at Eddie.

You have seen him shirtless before, countless times, actually. He is actually one of the only men you had seen shirtless – one was Steve, another one was Billy, but only because he walks around shirtless whenever he gets the chance to. Besides, he was never one that you had been attracted to. So, Billy doesn’t count.

But you look at Eddie.

His body, his skin, his scent, different from the one you already know, the skin you traced. The freckles that are not on his skin, yet it is covered in tattoos. No sun kissed skin, yet still beautiful in its paleness. No brown luscious hair, but a messy mop of dark curls that still fall beautifully on his shoulders. Both beautiful, both different. But why are you even comparing?

“Ready to go?”

You snap out of your thoughts, nodding.

Sighing, you look down and finish taking your dress off. You press your lips together as you adjust your top.

You hear the sharp breath he takes, the curse word that fell from his lips, the one he tried to cover with a cough.

“I-Is t-that a new one?” He stutters, trying to rip his gaze away from your chest as he points to your swimsuit.

You feel amused by the stutter, by the blush on his cheeks and the shakiness in his voice.

“Yes,” you giggle.

Eddie stares at you, at your body, at your soft skin that he is dying to touch. Your eyes that shine beneath the sunlight, the cherry red swimsuit that is hugging your body so perfectly. The way you look up at him with big eyes, parted and glossy lips. You look so gorgeous.

“I love it.”

Your eyes widen and you are once again blushing.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

He looks at you, not hungrily, not in a way others have wanted you before. He looks at you like you are the most precious thing in the world.

You push yourself up, leaning closer to him, you give him a teasing smile.

“I’ll race you to the water.” And with that, you run off, giggling when you hear him cursing.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

You squeal in surprise when he catches up with you quickly, he wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up and running into the water with you. He laughs at the squeal that falls from your lips again when the cold water touches your skin.

“Got you,” he whispers in your ear as he holds you tightly, sinking in the water with you.

“It’s so cold!” You gasp, holding his forearm tightly.

“Wanna dive, sweetheart?” He teases.

“No!” You squeal as he takes you deeper into the water.

He chuckles when you push his hands off, putting some distance between you before you turn around to face him.

“You wanna fight me?” You splash water his way.

“Oh,” he chuckles, shaking his head, “you wanna play that game?” He asks, splashing water back at you.

You nod as you walk back, suddenly feeling nervous when an evil smirk appears on his face.

“How about you play the helpless victim?”

“And you play the big bad monster?”

He suddenly jumps forward, reaching for you but you quickly pull back, trying to run in the water.

“No!”

You hear his dark chuckle behind you, “we didn’t even get started!”

“You’re an evil water monater!” You giggle as you take a look at him, watching the way the few wet strands of his cling to his cheeks.

His eyes light up with amusement, “the evil water monster is gonna get the pretty human.”

Your giggle makes his heart flutter and his smile widens when you squeal again as his fingers brush against your wrist.

“I almost got you!”

“Leave me alone!” You laugh, making the mistake of running into the other direction, giving him the chance to grab you. His hands grab your waist and he pulls you against him, your back is now flush against his bare chest. His fingers digging into your sides as he starts to tickle you.

“H-Hey!” You laugh, throwing your head back, “t-that’s not f-fair,” you giggle, gripping his wrists but he is stronger than you. “E-Eddie!”

“Eddie!” He mocks, laughing.

You push him back, hard enough for him to lose balance and as he falls, he takes you with him, wrapping his arms around you, you both fall into the water, laughing together as you fall against his chest.

The water sloshes around you. You are both giggling as you help each other up, holding each other's hands. He pulls you into him causing you to stumble forward a little. Your free hand falls against his wet chest as his falls to your waist.

“Hi,” you chuckle.

“Hey,” he smiles, moving his hand up to tuck the wet strands of your hair behind your ear.

You look at his chest, eyeing his tattoos for a moment and then, you look up, eyes drifting to his lips.

His brows knit together. He watches the way you look at him. His breathing stutters when your eyes continue to stare at his lips. But you are confused and completely lost. Why? What are you thinking about?

You pull away from him when you catch yourself thinking of something that shouldn’t even cross your mind.

Why did you even think about it?

Why did you have to get so close to him?

Wasn’t the kiss with Steve enough?

Why are you trying to ruin another friendship?

You already lost Steve, you don’t want to lose Eddie too.

“Hey guys!”

Both you and Eddie look up to find Robin running into the water, grinning at the both of you.

“Hey!”

The smile on your face is fake, Eddie can see it.

“Took you long enough, Buckley,” Eddie chuckles.

“Yeah, I uh– we stopped by the store, got some snacks,” she says with a shaky voice as she gets into the cold water.

“Hey guys!” Chrissy yells from the spot you and Eddie picked, waving at the two of you. She sits down on the pink towel she just put on the grass next to yours.

“Hi!” You smile, waving back at her.

Judging by the tanning oil in her hand, you already know that she won’t be joining you in the water.

Finally, you look at Steve, who seems unaware of what just almost happened. He takes his shirt off and runs his hand through his hair as he stands there in just his swim trunks, looking like some model that just walked out of a magazine. Your eyes widen as you stare at his chest.

Since when does he have chest hair?

He used to hate it and always shaved it when you were still together.

You stare at it without meaning to, your eyes roam his body. He changed a little, his arms are more muscular than before, his shoulders are a little broader. His hair is longer too.

When he looks up, you turn away, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Robin, can I talk to you for a moment?” Eddie asks with pleading eyes.

“Yeah sure.”

You watch as they both step away, leaving you standing by yourself for a moment. Good, you need it. You look around, deciding to go swimming without them. You take a deep breath and walk deeper into the water, letting the coldness envelope your body. You close your eyes and you start swimming.

As you swim further away from the shore, the voices and the laughter from the people get lost in the distance. You hear the water sloshing, your breathing and your beating heart.

You stop swimming and tilt your head back, stretching your arms out as you lay on your back, letting your body float.

You try to not think. You try to not feel. You try to just be here and enjoy this. You enjoy the cold feeling on your skin beneath the water, the warm feeling of the sun shining down on your face.

For a moment, it’s so quiet out here, it’s almost eerie.

You think about the joke Eddie made. Monsters in Lovers Lake. Now that you’re out here by yourself, you can’t help but think about it. Maybe there is something in the deep end.

Something could just snatch you up and pull you down. You definitely watch too many horror movies.

“You’re too far out.”

Your heart leaps to your throat and you open your eyes, gasping as you clutch your chest.

“You scared me!”

Steve’s lips part, his brows furrow. You place your hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing. He can’t help but laugh as he takes in the terrified look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, swimming closer to you, “did you think about that weird lake monster that you were so afraid of when you were a kid?”

“Huh – oh! O-Oh, you remember that?” You laugh.

He nods, “yeah, you only talked about it like every day.”

You snort, rolling your eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about that monster.”

“A different one then?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs, “still scared of monsters that don’t exist, I see.”

“Hey, you never know, something could just emerge from the water.” You swim towards him, getting closer and closer. His cheeks are a little red, water drips down from his hair, single droplets rolling down his cheeks and his lips.

“And what, snatch me up?” He chuckles, licking his lips.

“Mhmm, maybe monsters love guys with uh that,” you giggle, pointing to his chest, “I thought you hated chest hair, Stevie.”

You always told him to stop shaving it, you always wanted to see what it would look like on him.

His cheeks heat up and he doesn’t know whether it’s because of your words, the nickname or the closeness of your body.

“I’m trying new things,” he shrugs.

New things. He is trying new things. He tried new things when he dated girls before you, new hairstyles, new clothes, new music. He only ever tried new things when he was interested in someone and thought that he had to change – be better, look better.

“L-Like what?”

Your eyes flash with something that he struggles to read.

“For girls you mean?” You ask before he can even respond to your first question. You remember what Robin told you the first time you visited them at Scoops Ahoy. “A-Are you– do you have someone?” You ask before you can even stop those words from spilling.

“What?” He asks, shaking his head at you.

“Nothing,” you mumble, “forget it.” Why do you even care?

This is none of your business. He can do whatever he wants. He can flirt as much as he wants. He can go on dates. He can have flings. He can have girlfriends.

You tear your eyes away from him, desperately wanting to get away when you feel your cheeks heating up but just as you’re about to swim back, you notice how loose your bikini top is suddenly feeling. You raise your hand, placing it on your chest, “shit,” you mumble when you realize that the knot came undone.

“W-What’s wrong?” Steve asks as he snaps out of his thoughts.

“M-My stupid bikini – the knot–”

He realizes what happened when he notices your hand on your chest as you keep your other arm stretched out so you stay afloat.

“Can you help me?” You ask with big eyes.

His heart melts at the tone in your voice and the look in your eyes.

“Of course,” he whispers, swimming towards you.

This isn’t ideal but, he touched you before, he had seen you naked before, it won’t be weird or foreign for him to do it.

He swims behind you and he stares at your bare back for a moment, swallowing nervously. He takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to gather your wet hair, he brushes it to the side.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his touch for the first time again. His calloused fingers touching your bare skin. You press your lips together, and close your eyes.

He moves closer than he has to, he can’t help it. He reaches for the strings of your top and he starts tying the knot, slowly. He can feel the goosebumps on your skin and he can’t help but wonder if it’s because of the cold water or if it’s because of his touch – he hopes that it’s because of his touch.

He looks at your soft skin, wondering what it would be like to feel it on his again. He wonders what it would feel like to touch you, to have your body pressed against his. He looks at your shoulder, wishing that he could lean down and press his lips against it, pressing kisses up to your neck. His heart flutters just at the thought of it.

He is close, so close.

His fingers brush against your spine and your breath hitches in your throat. He heard it.

His touch feels so different from the way it used to feel. It’s soft, gentle. Something that it never used to be. He is careful with you, he never was, not when you were still his.

You wonder if he ever thought that you looked beautiful.

You wonder if he ever craved you the way you craved him after he left.

Your heart starts racing the longer you feel his hands on your skin. Hands that used to be so rough on your body are now so light and caring, it makes you nervous. His hands feel familiar yet so strange and foreign.

Is he touching someone else with those hands now?

“There’s no one else.” He says as though he could read your mind.

For a moment, you stop breathing.

“There’s only one girl for me,” he whispers as he puts his hand on your shoulder, turning you around carefully so he can see you, so he can look into your eyes.

He felt the way you reacted to his touch. He heard the sadness and the jealousy in your voice when you had asked him those questions. He can see the look in your eyes.

There is still a chance.

There is still a chance, right?

next chapter

tagging friends and mutuals

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @succubusmunson @trashmouth-richie @take-everything-you-can @xxhellfirebunnyxx @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @chrissymjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine

765 notes · View notes

supernovafics · 4 months

Text

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k words

warnings: explicit language

summary: in which you join steve during his family video shift and help him study for a test

author's note: nothing much to say about this one. short and sweet<33

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

“Can I have some help?”

You looked up from your notebook to see a guy standing a few feet in front of you with a small frown on his face. Your head shake in response to his question was immediate. “Oh, no, I don’t work here.”

His frown seemed to only deepen. “But, you’re sitting behind the counter.”

“Yeah, that probably makes things confusing, but I don’t work here,” You responded with a small laugh. You took a brief look at Steve, who was stocking tapes in one of the aisles. “I’m just here to help a friend and make sure he doesn’t fail out of his first ever college classes. Big English test tomorrow. The first one of the semester, actually.”

The guy rolled his eyes at your unnecessarily long explanation and then walked off, and your attention turned back to your notebook and you continued writing notes, or more so rewriting notes, for Steve.

When he finished stocking shelves, he walked over to you, leaning on the counter and looking down at what you were doing. You ripped out the pages you had been working on for the past hour and slid them over to him. “Okay, I have compiled all of the shit that you’ll need to know for the test tomorrow on these two pages, front and back. Enjoy.”

Steve gave you a small smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but it was actually pretty easy since you’re taking the class with the same Professor I had last semester; I mainly just redid the notes that I had for that first test. And it only took me like an hour.”

“Thanks, but shouldn’t you be worrying more about your test tomorrow?”

You shrugged. “I just have to give a presentation on the rise of radio for my communications class, and I’ve been preparing for the last couple days. I’ll be fine.”

Steve nodded at that and started looking at the notes you gave to him. You moved from behind the counter and went over to the comedy section and started to look through the shelves.

“Oh, also, can I get a vest and a nametag? Everyone already thinks I work here, anyway.”

“No,” Steve responded almost immediately, which made you laugh. After a second, he walked over to you, papers still in hand. “Surprisingly, I actually remember most of this stuff.”

You smiled at that. “Glad to know you’ve been paying attention in class.” You then showed him the movie you had just pulled off of the shelf. “Thoughts on this for tonight?”

Steve looked at the title for a second before answering. “The person that returned it yesterday said it was shit.”

“Okay, so that’s a no,” You said as you put the tape back in its spot. “Anyway, though, it's good that you remember a lot of stuff already, so when I quiz you on everything later, it’ll be fast.”

He shook his head. “You’re being way too nice to me right now.”

“You told me that you actually wanted to care about your classes and do well in them, so of course I’m gonna help you do that.”

You could’ve gone further into that conversation that you two had a few days before the beginning of the semester, but you didn’t feel the need to fully repeat it aloud right then. Steve had talked to you about wanting to figure out his life, finding what he wanted to do long-term that wasn’t Family Video related, and maybe going to school part-time and taking a few classes would help with that. It wasn’t about his parents, it wasn’t really even about you. It was about him and you admired that, and you also wanted to help him figure everything out. Maybe it could help you figure out all of your shit too.

“Also, if you dropped out after this semester it would actually be devastating to know that our first time ever going to the same school only lasted four and a half months.”

Steve laughed a bit. “I’m not gonna drop out.”

“And I’m completely holding you to that.”

You went back to searching for a movie for later, and after what felt like forever you settled on something that sounded good enough.

Things became pretty quiet for the rest of the night, so you were able to quiz Steve on the notes a couple times, and then you focused on the reading you had to do for the Film and TV history class that he suggested you two take together. Your collective eleven o’clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays mainly consisted of you two playing tic-tac-toe with one another in the margins of Steve’s notebook or writing stupid notes back and forth, and still paying some attention to the lectures that were actually pretty interesting. Aside from Steve being in the class, you really enjoyed it for the most part.

“This article was actually pretty good,” You said. The clock finally hit eleven and Steve went over to the front door to turn the Open sign to Closed. “I think you’ll like it.”

“What’s it about again?”

“Silent films,” You answered as you started putting all of your stuff in your bag. You then picked up the movie you grabbed earlier and went over to one of the computers, looking up the name of it and changing it from in stock to checked out. “Since I know how to do this, I think I definitely deserve a vest and nametag.”

��I would say that’s true, but you only do that for yourself, not for any customers,” He responded with a laugh.

“In a way, I am a customer.”

“Paying customers.”

“I use the “best friend of an employee” discount, which is a hundred percent off,” You said, smiling at him, and then smiling even more when he rolled his eyes at you.

“What movie did you end up choosing, anyway?”

You held up the tape in your hand, Weird Science. “Now I’m thinking that I should’ve chosen a silent film to honor our history class.”

“I’m really glad you didn’t,” Steve responded before stepping out from behind the counter. You slung your bag over your shoulder and followed him to the front.

“Once you read the article, you’ll wish that I picked one of Buster Keaton’s greatest hits,” You said as you flicked off the lights before you two walked out the door.

Steve locked it and then looked at you. “I truly doubt that.”

You only overdramatically sighed and shook your head at him in response as you got in his car, tossing your bag into the backseat. You fiddled with the radio for pretty much the entirety of the fifteen minute drive to the apartment, and you held back your laughter at Steve’s playful groans in frustration at your antics.

When you two stepped into the small space that was your shared home, you changed into your pajamas for the night before settling on the couch, and you quizzed Steve one more time for his test. And then he made you run through your presentation for your class tomorrow because he felt bad about you only helping him study.

The time was nearing midnight when Steve warmed up some of the leftover pizza from the night before as you started the movie. You two fell asleep barely thirty minutes in, your head on his shoulder and a blanket draped over both of your legs that were stretched out on the coffee table.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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estrellami-1 · 10 months

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Everyone immediately spreads out to look for El. They can’t find her inside the house anywhere, so they spread out outside, calling her name as they go.

“El!”

“Eleven?”

“El, please!”

Steve barely has time to get his arms up before something barrels into him, almost knocking him over. He shouts in surprise, windmilling his arms to try to stay up, and looks down to see El, face tucked in his stomach, arms tight around his waist. He smiles and wraps his arms around her. “Hey, El.”

She pulls back to look at him seriously. “I am glad you are here.”

He smiles. “Yeah. Me too.” He suddenly frowns. “So, you know-”

She nods. “You feel different.”

Steve grins. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess that’s a good different. Robin, too, y’know. We both came back together.”

“I know.”

By this point his shout had attracted everyone’s attention, and they’re all gathered around Steve and El. He looks at them. “How about we move this back inside?” He suggests. “Give us a second.”

Robin meets his eyes and nods, herding everyone inside, and Steve feels immensely grateful that she was brought back with him, that she’s his friend. “El?” He asks, forcing himself to focus. “Why’d you leave?”

She shrugs and buries her face in his stomach again. “Loud.”

“Oh,” Steve murmurs. “Think you can come find me next time things get too loud? That way either I can tell them to shut up, or you can go into a different room for a while. At least someone will know where you are.” He strokes a hand over her head. “I don’t have to tell you what’s in these woods. I know you’re more dangerous, but we’re not. I’d rather not risk it until we have to.”

“Okay. I am sorry.”

“I know. And it’s not your fault.” He leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “We can blame Eddie.” She giggles, and he grins, proud to have made her laugh. “Ready to go inside?”

“Ready,” she nods, grabbing Steve’s hand and squeezing it. He squeezes back, a quick pump, and together they walk inside to see everyone sitting quietly in the living room, waiting for them.

“You wanna go sit down?” He asks quietly, and she hesitates, then nods, moving to sit by Mike.

“Okay,” he says, as Robin moves to stand next to him. “I’m sure you all have plenty of questions.”

“Yeah,” Mike says, “how’d you know about El?”

“We’re from the future,” Robin says.

“Right, cause that makes sense,” Dustin says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You have cleidocranial dysplasia. You’d never tell your mom, but you’re being bullied at school because of it. Your favorite movie series is Star Wars. You’re a brat with an attitude problem, but you’re smart, which means most people don’t call you on it.” Dustin’s eyes are wide. “Do you believe me?” Dustin nods.

“He’s telling the truth,” El says quietly to Mike, who looks between her and Steve before finally nodding. “Okay.”

Steve sighs. “We’re here because everything that’s going on—El, Will, Barb—it doesn’t stop. It gets worse. More people die. We want to stop it before it gets to that point.”

“Okay,” Nancy says, leaning forward. “How do we do that?”

“We don’t exactly know,” Robin admits. “We’re rewriting history just sitting here talking. We can tell you that Will’s alive. In danger, but alive. Barb we don’t know about.”

“El,” Steve asks quietly. “Could you find her?” She nods, and he turns the TV on, changing it to a channel filled with static. “Robs, I have a blindfold in my room. Second drawer in my nightstand.”

“Got it,” she says, racing upstairs.

He moves the coffee table out of the way and looks at El. “If you’re not ready-”

“I am,” she promises. “But I need quiet.”

“It’ll be quiet,” he assures her, smiling at Robin when she returns, black fabric in her hand. “Thanks. El?” He gestures to the floor, and she nods, takes a deep breath, and sinks to the floor in front of the TV.

He ties the blindfold on her, then takes a seat on the couch next to Robin, who immediately tangles their fingers together.

Everyone sits, quieter than they’ve ever been before, and waits.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

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Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy

#if I should stay #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #eleven #robin buckley #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #starambles

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buckyalpine · 2 years

Text

Wait, what?

Bucky x pregnant reader

A/N: My first request ever from @slutforsexyseabass this made me so happy, I LOVE concepts like this. Such a sucker for hidden relationships, I hope I did this justice, I will 100% rewrite this if you imagined it differently. I loved this concept SO much, I wrote this with three different endings. What the hell is wrong with me? Everything :) Cutest concept ever, thank you for this. Please like, comment and reblog <3

Warnings: Angst and fluff!! Pregnancy, swearing Word count: 3.9k (I’m so sorry, i just kept adding each time I imagined the ending differently)

Back story + baby Barnes (sort of part 2?)

I do (again) part 3?

4 months ago

“Are you sure you want this?”

You sighed, having spent the last hour trying to convince Fury to let you transfer to a desk job. Granted, it was an odd request coming from you because you loved your role as an Avenger and you had sworn you wouldn’t leave the job for anything else.

“Is there a specific reason you want to transfer agent?” He gave you a pointed look, clearly insinuating he already knew why you wanted this transfer.

“I-its for the best, at least for a little while” You fiddled with a pen on his desk, looking all around the room, avoiding eye contact. Fury nodded, you knew he knew.

“Alright. I’ll approve it. You understand when you transfer, visits and interactions with your teammates are not permitted under any circumstances. How does 1 year and 9 months sound?”

Your face heated up, as you chuckled, nodding. “It sounds perfect. Thank you” You made your way to the door with your transfer starting immediately.

“Congratulations Agent. To you and Mr. Barnes”

Present

“I miss y/n” Sam poked at the flavorless oatmeal in front of him, annoyed there were no longer fresh muffins to eat first thing in the morning. The baking habit you picked up at 3:00AM when you couldn’t sleep was sorely missed. “I only bothered to get out of bed for those fluffy chocolaty babies”

“Well I lost my venting and shopping partner” Nat huffed; she’d managed to drag Wanda along occasionally but it wasn’t the same. Plus venting was boring when the person can already read your thoughts.

“I know what you’re thinking” Wanda playfully glared at Nat, “I didn’t even get to say bye to her, she just packed her things and left the day she was transferred”

“I didn’t get to see her either, we were on a mission and all I got was a message from Fury saying she’s moving to the upper floor in SHIELD” Tony tried not to show it but he was the most upset over you leaving. You brought the team together and without you there, it felt like a piece was missing.

“Yeah it’s not the same without her” Steve said as the rest of the team hummed in agreement, all sharing little moments they shared with you and how they wished you were back. Well, everyone except Bucky.

“What about you Buck?” Sam looked over to the silent super soldier, who was sipping his black coffee, sans his favorite chocolate chip muffin. “I know you at least miss the muffins, who doesn’t”

“I guess? I ate them if they were there but I can still get out of bed without them bird brain” Bucky went back to his coffee while Tony cocked his head, unable to understand how Bucky didn’t seem to care, but in all fairness, the both of you never really interacted much outside of missions.

“C’mon cyborg, is there not one thing you miss about her?”

Bucky shook his head shrugging, “We talked during missions but I didn’t have any connection with her, we never talked that way”

“Makes sense, you’re always holed away in your room like a hobbit- Ow!” Sam smirked, earning a smack from Steve. “I’m just saying!”

“Well you missed out, she’s a sweet heart” Nat got up from her seat making her way to the gym, “Oh, and I lost my sparring partner!”

***

“Bucky’s down, I need back up on the east side of the base” Steve shouted into the coms, panic rising in his chest, his own energy depleting. The rubble from the destroyed Hydra building was becoming more and more difficult to move as he tried to get to his best friend.

“C’mon Buck,” He panted, throwing off blocks of concrete, seeing the glint of Bucky’s metal arm underneath. The dust clouded his lungs as he heaved, a sudden blast from the sky easily turning the concrete into dust. Tony quickly cleared the area as Sam and Steve pulled Bucky from beneath.

“FRIDAY check his vitals”

“Scanning, vitals unstable, Mr. Barnes has experienced head trauma, 3 fractured ribs, severe blood loss, 3 open wounds to the abdomen. His blood pressure continues to drop”

“Shit, FRIDAY, alert the MedBay to be on standby, 1 hour” Tony and Sam managed to carry Bucky off to the jet and Steve trailed behind, his heart racing having already lost Bucky once. The medical team quickly whisked him away as soon as the jet landed, applying pressure to the wounds and hooking him up to machines, struggling to revive him.

“He’ll be okay” Sam squeezed Steve’s shoulder reassuringly, walking him over to an infirmary to get patched up, unsure of his own words.

***

The team sat around the waiting room, the air laced with anxiety and burning questions as they waited for the doctor to give them an update. They’d all had their fair share of bad injures and near death experiences though Bucky had never been injured this badly thanks to the serum. This time was different. Steve’s head shot up as soon as he heard the surgery doors open, running to the doctor as she approached them.

“How is he?”

“Well, his vitals are stable now. He’s awake and we’ve moved him to the recovery ward but he’s going to have to sit out on missions for a while. The serum will take care of the minor scars and fractures but it’ll take some time for the other injuries. He got lucky you were able to get him here in time”

“Can we see him?” Steve was well aware that patients weren’t allowed visitors unless they were family, especially if they were still just recovering but he felt like his head was going to explode. The team was the closest thing he had to a family. He noticed Dr. Cho’s hesitation, his eyes pleading with her, “Please? Just to know he’s okay?”

Dr. Cho smiled shaking her head, “I told him to rest but he said you’d probably be worried sick. Don’t stay in there too long, he has to rest. The adrenaline is keeping him up for now”

Steve entered the room fist, with the team behind him, breathing a sigh of relief seeing a tired and injured but alive Bucky slightly propped up on the bed. Bucky blinked, his vision fuzzy as his eyes focused on Steve, Sam, Tony and Nat.

“Hey pal” Steve sat in the chair beside the bed, swallowing thickly when he saw the gashes that covered his arm and the bandages that wrapped around his torso. “How do you feel?”

Bucky mustered a small smile, hardly able to speak from exhaustion. “Like shit”

“You look like shit” Sam mused from the side, “Glad you’re okay Buck”

Bucky smirked, nodding, his eyes heavy from the pain medication.

***

You ran down the hall as best as you could, your heart racing, tears blurring your vision. You slowed down for a moment to catch your breath, a hand suddenly coming from behind to support you making you gasp.

“It’s just me; you know you shouldn’t be running right now, here sit down for a moment”

Dr. Cho smiled softly, leading you to a seat, giving you a chance to slow your breathing down. She got up for a moment, coming back with a glass of water and handing you a tissue, letting you sip slowly and dry your tears.

“I-I h-have to see him” You took a few deep breaths, fiddling with the ring on your finger, your voice cracking.

“I know, but you have to take it easy too, stress isn’t good for you right now, I promise everything went well. He’s out of surgery and recovering. He’s got a number of visitors in there, I’m going to see how he’s doing and then I’ll come get you, okay?”

You nodded; your breathing had steadied but your heart continued to race, you wouldn’t be able to relax until you saw him, his blue eyes; home and your safe place.

Dr. Cho entered the recovery room, checking on Bucky’s heart monitor and blood pressure before turning to him. She spoke lowly though she knew it would be useless in a room full of avengers who had enhanced hearing and lip reading capabilities.

“Mr. Barnes, you have one more visitor” Bucky smiled softly, his heart fluttering causing the heart monitor line to jerk up and down, beeping suddenly. “I can ask everyone to leave if you want your privacy?”

Bucky shook his head, everyone there was family. It was time they knew. “No, let them stay”

Steve sat up, wide eyed, watching the heart monitor scream as Bucky’s heart continued to race. Dr. Cho patted his shoulder, hiding a smile as she walked out to get you. “He’s okay”

Steve sat back in his chair breathing out a sigh of relief, sitting back up again as he registered Dr. Cho’s words. “Wait, one more visitor?” He looked at Bucky for an answer but the super soldier looked down at his hands instead, cheeks flushed, hoping to hide the mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“Another visitor, who else is there, you got a secret wife?” Tony smirked, his brow quirked with curiosity. Those closest to Bucky were already there so who else would come to visit him?

“Baby” You walked through the doors, rushing straight for Bucky, gently cupping his face in your hands, placing feather light kisses all over his cheeks. You stroked his forehead as he leaned into your touch, kissing your palm and using the bit of strength he had to pull you to sit on the bed with him.

“Hey babydoll” Bucky looked at you with heart eyes, his hand caressed your face, wiping away some of the tears that rolled down your cheek. “Shh, I’m okay bubba”

“Babydoll? Did ya’ll just hear that, he said babydoll right? That’s y/n, who is babydoll” Sam was sure he’d need the heart monitor next, leaning against the wall for extra support.

“What the hell is happening” Tony’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates unsure if he was experiencing sympathy head trauma, unable to comprehend a thing that was going on.

“I was so worried about you Bucky” You nuzzled against, him breathing in his scent as you placed your hand on his chest, his steady heart beat relaxing your nerves.

“I’m okay baby, I promise” Bucky kissed your forehead before resting it against yours; nothing else mattered in that moment. Except for the fact that everyone was staring at you both. The team stood wide eyed, jaws on the floor as Bucky held you close.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on here? Did Thanos snap his fingers, did I end up in a different timeline, Tony I told you to let the wizard take care of it- ow!” Tony flicked Sam’s ear, his eyes still glued to you and Bucky. Steve and Nat looked at each other hoping the other would have answers but both looked equally lost.

“Did you…?” Nat whispered, nodding her head towards you both as Steve shook his head, smiling watching his best friend deep in love. Bucky continued to gaze at you, the rest of the world nonexistent when you were with him.

“How’s my little peanut?”

Nat gasped as Bucky brought his hand to your little baby bump, his hand resting on your tummy rubbing small comforting circles to soothe you. You heard a whimper from the corner, as Sam tried to discreetly dab his eyes on Tony’s shirt.

“You okay there bird brain?” Bucky smirked, his hand lacing with yours on top of your tummy, the ring on your finger glinting, catching Tony’s attention.

“Okay, now can you tell us what going on?”

“I guess I should introduce you to the team then?” Bucky looked at you as you nodded, snuggling against him biting your lip nervously.

“How hard did you hit your head Buck, we know y/n” Sam’s voice cracked watching you giggle, your face glowing as you smiled at the team. Bucky squeezed your hand in his, his heart racing again as he spoke.

“This is my wife, y/n Barnes”

The team stood in silence, taking a moment to let Bucky’s words register before they leapt towards you as carefully as they could, making sure they didn’t crush you or Bucky in their gigantic hug. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as congratulations poured out, each person reluctant to let go of you. Nat squealed at your growing tummy, as you brought her hand to feel the tiny flutters kicking inside.

“I can’t believe you kept this a secret,” Sam shook his head, his eyes glassy as they landed on your baby bump “Is that why you transferred? Also you two have SO much explaining to do. When, how, where, what the hell?! Look at this man; did you ever think you’d see terminator give someone heart eyes?”

Bucky snorted as you shook your head giggling; you figured you’d have to explain yourself at some point. “We started dating 4 years ago actually, a little after he moved into the compound-”

“Hang on, you guys were already dating 4 years ago?”

“Surprised you didn’t know Tony, should have checked your security cameras more often” Bucky snickered wiggling his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes, pinching him.

“Anyway, Bucky didn’t want to tell anyone about us because he was worried Hydra would come after me if they knew. We got married 2 years ago in Louisiana-”

“WAIT, BUCKY, STEVE AND I WENT TO LOUISIANA TOGETHER, when did this happen?!”

Bucky winced, trying to stop the fit of giggles that had taken over as Sam and Steve stared at each other then back to Bucky.

“Y/n came too. I got her to stay at a hotel nearby, you guys insisted on going sightseeing so…” Sam’s eyes widened as he connected the dots, “Yeah, no wonder you were so chipper to stay back home, unbelievable”

“We got married by the lakeside the day before you guys left for New York again. Just me and Bucky” You smiled softly as you remembered the soft white dress you wore, the way Bucky looked in his suit, the soft kiss that sealed you both together.

“Wait, where’s your ring punk” Steve couldn’t place what he was feeling, his emotions running a mile a minute as he pieced together why Bucky had made so much progress over the past few years. Bucky pulled out his dog tags that were set under a few of his things on the table; a simple gold band hung around the chain.

“I moved to a house after I transferred, figured we’d need more space since our little one will be here soon. I planned on coming back a year after the baby’s born. We really wanted to tell you guys but we figured this was the safest option”

The team nodded understandingly, as you stroked Bucky’s hair lulling him to sleep. He rested against you, keeping his hand on your tummy. Steve looked away trying to mask his sniffles as a cough before turning back to you again.

“How did you guys see each other after you moved?”

“Bucky comes by when he goes for his run, sometimes he comes in the middle of the night, especially if I’m baking or weekends, I see him almost every day” You grinned, thinking about how you felt like a rebellious teenager every time Bucky snuck by to steal a kiss or snuggle with you for a while before having to return to the compound.

“Really punk? So that’s where you would go missing? To see y/n?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow as Bucky opened one eye, nodding and smiling softly before nuzzling back to you.

“THAT’S WHY YOU DIDN’T MISS HER MUFFINS!”

Bucky snorted, his eyes remaining closed, “Yeah, you jealous Tweety bird?”

“I’m happy for you both, I haven’t seen him happier in years and it makes sense now” Steve held you, kissing your head, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

“I can’t believe you guys managed to keep this under wraps” Tony shook his head, his mind wandering to expanding your old room to accommodate a baby room as well.

“Well Fury knows and Dr. Cho. I really only trust her so I came to her as soon as I found out, being a super solider baby and all” “Fury doesn’t count he knows everything, probably knows when Capsicle took a shit last”

“Language”

You giggled, looking down at Bucky who was snoring softly into your chest his hand still wrapped protectively around your belly. The team whispered their goodbyes, giving you gentle hugs, allowing you to have some privacy. You closed your eyes, as you began to fall asleep with the one person who would do anything to keep you safe; your home and safe place.

Alternate ending ii

The team had made their way to the MedBay after Bucky had been moved from surgery. Steve swallowed thickly as he saw Dr. Cho, hoping his best friend would be okay.

“Can we see him now?”

“Mr. Barnes has a visitor, just family is allowed right now Mr. Rogers” She smiled sympathetically as Steve’s face dropped “In a few minutes I’ll check on him. If he’s okay, you can visit him for a while but he has to rest”

Steve silently nodded, his brows furrowed as he wondered who else would visit Bucky. As far as he knew, the team was the closest thing to family Bucky had left.

“Family? Did she just say family?” Sam looked over to an equally confused Tony as they sat down in the waiting room.

“Bucky has family?” “Not that I know of…” Steve continued to wrack his brain as the minutes passed, his anxiety growing more and more. He glared at the door hoping whoever had gone to see Bucky would leave. Half an hour passed before Dr. Cho went back to the room to check on Bucky and immediately making her way over to where the team sat. “Mr. Barnes will see you now”

The team made their way through the doors, freezing as soon as they stepped in. Bucky was snuggled against you, his eyes heavy with sleep, his hand wrapped protectively around your little baby bump, hardly registering others had entered the room. You smiled brightly at them as their shocked expressions melted into tears of happiness having not seen you for months.

“Oh my God. Y/n!?” Nat pulled you into a tight hug, followed by the rest of the team. Steve’s arms lingered around you as he kissed your head, holding onto you extra tight.

“It’s good to see you. We missed you so much” His voice cracked as he spoke, looking down at your growing tummy and the ring that sat on your left hand. “You’re…?” You grinned, nodding, brining Steve’s hand to where the baby kicked, causing his eyes to brim with tears.

“I thought you came here to see me punk” Bucky rasped, smirking at Steve’s poor job at wiping the tears that were rolling down his cheek.

“Shut up jerk. You’re married?”

Bucky nodded, kissing your cheek, rubbing your belly, looking at you with love and adoration “Meet my beautiful wife, y/n Barnes”

“Who would have thought terminator would be the first one married. Unless any of you are also hiding a secret spouse I need to know about?” Tony eyed Steve, Sam and Nat suspiciously before smiling back at you and Bucky.

“You two have SO much explaining to do”

Alternate ending iii

The team sat together around the waiting room, the air laced with anxiety and burning questions. Tony, Nat and Sam sat in the lounge chairs as Steve paced around the hall waiting for the doctor to emerge from the surgery room. A familiar voice speaking to a nurse down the hall caught the team’s attention.

“Oh my God y/n?!” Tony shot up, wide eyed as he saw you walk down the hall, towards them. You grinned as Tony pulled you into a tight hug, nearly lifting you off the floor in the process.

“Hey Tones” You smiled, immediately engulfed by another pair of strong arms before you could say anything else.

“Um, excuse me, you went missing without saying good bye, and you left me muffinless, I think I deserve a hug at least” You giggled wrapping your arms around Sam as he kissed your head “Seriously y/n, we missed you”

“I missed you to- “Hey! Me next!” Nat yanked off Sam, squeezing you, “I missed you babe”. You turned around to Steve who pulled you into a giant bear hug, his warm arms holding you securely.

“You really have no idea how much we missed you”

“-and the muffins!”

“Seriously Sam?”

Steve felt your firm tummy press against him, pulling away from you for a moment; his eyes landing on your little baby bump “Wait! Are you…?”

You grinned, nodding as your hand cradled your tummy, suddenly squished again as the team enveloped you in a giant group hug. Tony held you for a second longer, before letting you go.

“Is that why you left for a desk job?”

You nodded, as Steve led you to the couch to sit, “Yeah, figured it’d be safer that way, I was planning on coming back after a year”

“Makes sense. Wish you told us though, y’know I would have added a new floor for you and the baby-” Tony’s eyes snapped to you widening, “Hang on, whose the father?!”

You giggled as your hand caressed your tummy feeling little flutters. “Oh my God, is that a ring on your finger?!” Your face heated up as you nodded, watching Sam bounce in his seat and Nat grab your hand to inspect the ring.

“Yup, that would be a ring on my finger”

“Y-you’re married?!”

“I am”

You laughed as the questions began to pour in all at once; Sam pulled out his phone to write down every single question he had for you so he wouldn’t forget.

“Okay, okay, first things first, what are you even doing here; did you come in for a checkup?”

Dr. Cho emerged through the doors before you had a chance to answer. “Mrs. Barnes? He’s awake now; you can go and see him”

The team looked at each other exchanging confused expressions, “Who the hell is Mrs. Bar- OH MY GOD!”

Tony and Sam’s jaws dropped as you got up from your seat, making your way to Bucky’s room. Nat smacked Steve as he sat wide eyed, flicking his own ear wondering if he was hearing things or maybe his old age was finally catching up to him.

“I- what? When?!” Tony sputtered, looking at the door and back at everyone equally confused faced. “Mrs. Barnes?!”

They sat in shock for a few moments, before getting up and knocking on the door.

“Come in”

Bucky smiled sheepishly as you kissed his temple, resting against him; his hand splayed across your tummy.

“Guess I should introduce you guys then, everyone, this is my wife y/n Barnes”

Part 2 - back story + baby barnes

I do (again) wedding time!

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan

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stevesxyellowxsweater · 2 months

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Will you still love me tomorrow?

PAIRING: king!Steve Harrington x virgin!Reader WC:3k CW:Minors do not interact!! Very little plot, No use of y/n, reader has female body parts, also wears a dress and is called good girl, p in v, oral (both m and f, fingering (f receiving), losing virginity, cream pie, cum tasting, asshole Steve, mentions of sadness, mentions of a bet, mentions of Billy, doesn't end happy. SUMMARY: After your third date with King!Steve, you find yourself in his bed. AUTHOR NOTES: This is a rewrite of a fic I started on here but stopped, the smut was too good to go to waste. 💜Enjoy, please remember reblogs are strongly encouraged! Thank you to @cafekitsune for the amazing banners as always!

His fingertips felt like fire, as they ran down your arms. You hadn't expected the night to end like this, it was your third date you'd promised yourself it was too early. But now you were in his room, your body hot because of each touch and kisses that King Steve placed on your skin. His lips ran over your neck, causing a strangled whimper to leave your lips. “Does my girl like that?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he heard your noises. He’d craved this since he first clapped eyes on you in that little thigh-length summer dress, at the start of April.

The courting had been a long process for Steve, frustration mostly because you'd knocked him back again and again. He was the King, every girl wanted to be the Queen. But not you, you didn't want that it seemed and it left him feeling incredibly frustrated. You'd only given in and agreed to date him when he stood up on the table in the cafeteria, yelled your name across the room and asked you out. So many eyes on you at that moment, you felt like you were going to throw up. It was one of those high school cliche moments, everyone waiting for your answer.

How could you say no to him, then?

“Yes.” You finally managed to say to him, a strangled moan. You did like that, you liked his lips on your neck a lot. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, you clenched your legs together, nervousness bubbling inside of you. His hand moved to the flimsy strap on your dress and pulled it down agonizingly slowly. “Steve...” You whispered as he touched your zip. Did you want this, you'd never before and if you did would not make you just another one of his conquests?

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked gently, looking you in the eyes. There was a sincerity to the look on his face, that made your heart skip a beat. He seemed to be taking into account that this was your first time and didn’t want to force you if you didn't want to. It made your heart flutter, he was so sweet and charming it's no wonder you found yourself falling for him.

You realise he's still waiting for your reply, you'd been too busy studying his handsome face. “What was the question again?” You asked gently. “Do you want me to stop?” Steve asked as he cupped your face. “No, it's not that. I just haven't done this before.” You admitted, your cheeks burning.

You couldn't help but feel embarrassed having to admit that you were a virgin but deep down you knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. As long as it was the right partner, that was all that mattered. Steve had been wonderful on the three dates you'd been on together, you'd never had so much fun as you were having with him. You didn't think Steve was as nice and kind as he had been, he was even pretty romantic. He had you eating out of the palm of his hand

“It's okay, I'll guide you.” His words helped you relax, as did the kiss he planted on your jaw a moment later. His thumb ran over your cheek while he cupped your face in his large hand. Gently Steve pressed against you, guiding you down onto his pillows as his lips met yours. You were surrounded by his scent, instantly as your head touched the pillows. “I promise I'll be gentle.” He whispered before he pulled his shirt off.

Lying in his bed, you found yourself struggling to believe that you and Steve Harrington were going to have sex. Biting your lip gently, you watched as he tossed his shirt to the ground. Your eyes raked over his body, looking at the Adonis above you. “Do you like what you see?” He asked as he noticed your eyes running over him hungrily like a piece of meat.

“Very much so.” He grinned, moving his hands around you to pull down your dress zip.

Your dress hit the floor, the same time your hips landed back on the bed, Steve watched you, sucking in a breath at the sight of you in your lace lingerie. Taking your hand, he pulled you up and looked you in the eyes. “I know you're nervous, I am too. I've not liked anyone the way I like you, not ever.” He whispered.

“I like you too.” You replied, causing him to smile. Becoming a little braver, your free hand moved to touch him through his jeans. A hum left his lips, and you found yourself desperate to hear more of it. Desperate to make him moan for you, to hear noises that you were the cause of.

Letting go of his hand, you worked on his jeans needing to see more of him. Finally, you were able to pull them off -taking his boxers too- and found yourself staring, mouth agape. You stared at his large cock, unsure how he'd ever fit inside you. “Suck it.” Steve husked, as he watched you staring at his naked body.

Taking hold of his shaft, you looked at how big his thick cock looked in your hand. You could hardly get your hand around it. Steve lets out a small moan as he watches you slowly lean down and take him in your mouth.

You start slow, shy almost. Letting the tip into your mouth, your tongue washing over the masterpiece before you. As you inch him further into your mouth, you can't help but glance up, seeing his head leaning back and his hand running through his hair as he lets out a small groan.

Looking back down to the task at hand, you take him slightly deeper, feeling his shaft on your tongue. Your hand grips hold of him, holding what you cannot fit. Your tongue glides up the shaft as our head slowly starts bobbing up and down, taking him further each time. “That's it, baby girl, just like that.” He uttered humming once more.

As you move your head up, you taste the salty liquid of precum. A small moan leaves your lips as you focus on his hole wanting to taste it as much as possible. You feel his hand slipping into your hair and starting to grip tightly as he pushes you back down needing to be further in your mouth. “Such a good girl.” He moaned. “Who would've thought you're not as sweet and innocent as people thought.” He told you as Steve started to fuck your mouth, his cock moving faster seeing just how much of him you could take.

You try to keep yourself relaxed, but it's hard having his cock so deep in your mouth. You're desperate to impress him as well as pleasure him. But then he suddenly pulled out of your mouth, leaving you to whine. “It's okay baby, I just don't want to spill my load in your mouth.” He assured you. His hands found your hips easily and he pulled you down on top of him, his lips crashing against yours as his hands fiddled with your bra and underwear desperate to see the treats that lay under them. As he got them off, he rolled you over onto your back, throwing the items to the ground.

Nestling himself between your legs, he looked down at you. “You're so beautiful.” He told you as his fingers brushed over your cheek. You couldn't help but feel hot under his touch, a small shy smile on your face. He was going to be your first, he was going to make you feel things you'd never felt.

His thumb ran over your lips once more before he moved down between your legs, he began to kiss your thighs, biting and sucking on them. Your hand moved to his and gripped his hair. “Steve!” She moaned as your body arched toward him. “I'm going to taste you.” The king whispered against your thigh. Nodding gently you looked at him as he moved toward your sweet sex.

You watched him, watched as he licked from your wet folds up to your clit then back again. Whimpers instantly began to fall from your lips, but soon turned to moans as he settled himself on your clit and pushed a finger inside. Your hand tugged on his now messy locks as he worked his magic with his tongue. “Steve, oh god!” You cried out feeling him smirking as he pumped his finger in, needing to stretch you out so you could take him.

“You're going to take me so well.” He told you between licks and sucks of your bean. His second finger slowly slipped inside of you causing you to gasp, the sting of the feeling of both of his thick fingers inside you caused you to suck in a breath. He began to pump them inside of you, pushing deeper as he licked and sucked on your clit.

Being so inexperienced, and feeling your whole body on fire, it didn't take him long to bring you to the brink. Your stomach twisted and turned in knots, your free hand gripped hard to the sheets below as a flood of pleasure washed over you. “Steve!” You moaned out, his fingers and tongue working faster to bring you to your climax.

Your hips bucked up toward his mouth, your body shook with the force of his skills between your legs. He worked you through it. It was almost cliche to say that fireworks set off in your head. Feeling him press a kiss against your cut, he slowly sat back and licked his fingers clean as he did. His eyes remained on you the whole time, a smirk on his face.

“You taste amazing.”

Leaning down, he kissed your jaw softly. Anticipation hung in the air as you both knew what was coming next. Your hand moved to touch his cheek as you began to kiss, hunger caused the air to become thicker. His hand rested on your neck as he nestled between your legs.

The kiss was a first in itself, he held onto you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You could taste yourself and it made your stomach twist. You let out a small moan, desperate for more. You barely broke away to breathe only needing a moment to suck in a breath or let it out. He pulled back slowly making you whine.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he moved his hand to touch your cheek.

“Yeah.” You answered in hardly a whisper. His eyes stayed on yours as he moved his hand to line himself up with your entrance. Your body felt almost like it was shaking still, you weren't sure if it was still because of the orgasm or what was going to happen next. But you could feel the nerves bubbling in your stomach as you moved your hands to take hold of his shoulders.

Slowly, Steve pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. A gasp fell from your lips. He slowly pushed himself all the way inside you. You'd never felt this full before, never felt a feeling like this. You could feel yourself stretching around him, making adjustments for him. The sting of taking him slowly began to ease.

“You're so tight.” He moaned looking in your eyes with a lopsided smile. You smiled back, you could get used to this, used to the way it felt as your naked bodies pressed together as his cock twitched inside of you as he gave you that moment you needed to adjust to him.

His lips pressed against your neck, sucking gently as he began to thrust inside of you. Your hands gripped hold of his back, your nails pressing into his flesh. “Good girl, taking me so well,” Steve uttered against your skin. Steve's hand ran down your body to your leg, pushing it up and lifting it over his shoulder.

“Oh god!” You cried out as he thrust in deeper. He pulled back from your neck and looked down at you, the smirk back on his face. “Who is making you feel this good?” He asked his tone full of lust and desire. “You, Steve.” He pressed his lips to yours almost like a reward for you saying his name.

“You like that, you dirty girl,” Steve uttered, biting your lip as he watched the look on your face as he thrust inside of you. You moaned as he went further inside of you, you felt him hitting the right spot and it took everything inside you not to come at that moment. “Yes!” You cried out as each thrust bottomed out inside of you. Your nails dug in hard to his back, causing the king of Hawkins High to cry out loudly. “Do you like that?” You questioned starting to become a little more confident.

He didn't answer, he just nodded his head as he moved his hand to stroke your cheek. His thumb moved down and into your mouth, you instantly started to suck on it as it passed your lips. “Good girl.” He whispered, biting his lip between his teeth.

You couldn't help but stare up at his face, looking at the way his hair bounced, watching the way his jaw went tight, or the desire in his eyes, the light Sheen of sweat on his brow. He took his hand from your mouth and moved it down to your breast, his hand kneading it like it was dough.

Your eyes started to close, getting lost in the pleasure. But his hand moved from the breast and grabbed your chin. “Keep looking at me baby.” He ordered, thrusting hard inside of you almost like a punishment. His hand moved back to your breast, this time rubbing and tweaking your nipple once your eyes were open.

“Steve!” You gasped, your body arched wanting to feel him deeper inside of you. Dropping your leg, he moved his hand either side of you in the bed and started to thrust harder. The bed began to move under the two of you, whining and creaking nearly as loud as you were.

“I'm close.” You announced and he seemingly smirked.

“So am I.” He told you. “Am I okay to...?” You nodded gently unable to speak as his thrusts became harder, and caused a loud moan to leave you.

“Yes!” You cried out. Your orgasm hit you a moment later, you couldn't help but let out a loud groan. Your body arching, and your hands held him tightly. “Steve!” His name came out of your lips in a moan, your body starting to shake as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Fuck!” Steve uttered with a thrust, you could feel his cock twitching inside of you filling you with his seed. Causing another moan out of your pretty mouth, as you felt the ropes of cum painting your walls.

He thrust inside of you a couple more times, making sure he was empty before he pulled out and looked down at you. “Look at you, such a mess,” Steve smirked as he reached down and pushed his cum back inside of you, causing your body to twitch and throb at the feel of him.

Moving up the bed, he lay beside you and pushed his fingers into your mouth. “See how we taste together.” He ordered you. Licking and sucking his fingers, he smirked softly. “Such a good girl.” He whispered watching you clean his fingers. “So good.”

Pulling them from you he smirked softly and lay back his arm resting behind his head as he basked in the post-sex glow. It was then it felt like it all changed. He didn't hug you, he didn't speak to you, he just lay there catching his breath and smiling to himself. Looking down at him, you swallowed hard asking if you should lay down beside him. Or was he done with you? You'd given him what he wanted and he became almost cold.

“Are you going to stay for a while?” His words broke you out of your thoughts. “Or have you got to be going?” Steve asked you, causing you to question if he was throwing you out or not. “Do you want me to go?” You asked awkwardly. You knew the answer, it was obvious and it made your chest ache. Steve shrugged his shoulders, laying there naked as the day he was born.

“Well I'm pretty tired, but you can stay if you want.” Looking away from him you bit your lip and shook your head. “My curfew is soon, so I'll leave you to sleep.” You said gently. Steve sat up and pressed his lips to your shoulder. “I'll call you, okay?” He whispered gently against your skin. “I look forward to it.” You whispered glancing over at him before he lay back down leaving you to dress and see yourself out.

Stepping out into the cool night air, you glanced back at his house as you bit down on your lip. You tried to tell yourself that he was going to call you, that he'd be on the phone tomorrow asking you out again. But he didn't even offer to drive you home, you hoped you were wrong and that you hadn't just been used. He was going to call, he had to call.

By Sunday night, he still hadn't called you.

By Monday you saw his arm slung around a cheerleader flirting like crazy.

By Wednesday you found out he had a bet with Tommy H to bed you.

By Friday you had slapped him in front of the whole school.

And by the following Friday Steve was bubbling with jealousy as he watched Billy Hargrove flirt with you and he realised he'd truly fucked up.

Mutual tags: @yourfavoritewitchbitch @darleenjade @teen--marvel @southerngothicchic @wroteclassicaly @mrprettywhenhecries @msbillyhargrove @bunnyhargrove @keerysfolklore @littlexdeaths @undead-supernova @thecreelhouse @hi-im-peanut-butter-pretzels

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Reblogs are much appreciated 💜💜

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #king!steve harrington one shot #Reader x Steve Harrington #You x Steve harrington #Fem!reader x Steve Harrington #Virgin!reader x Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington oneshot #steve Harrington fanfic #steve Harrington fanfiction #steve Harrington fic #shml

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months

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@steddiemas Day 18 Prompt: Classic Christmas Songs

Tags: Eddie Munson Hates Christmas Music, Steve Harrington Has A Crush On Eddie, But He Doesn't Know It, Rewriting A Song As A Means To Flirt, Robin Buckey Is A Great Friend, Jewish Eddie

wc: 1230 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“Christmas songs again?” Eddie groans, stepping into the warm air of Family Video. Unfurling the scarf he begrudgingly wears after Ms. Henderson went through the trouble of knitting him one last year, he moseys his way to Steve and Robin who are slouched over the counter.

“If we did do you think we would be listening to Christmas songs right now?” Robin asks, lifting her head from where she had it buried in her hands. “I’m one “Last Christmas” loop away from becoming the Grinch.”

“Hey! Don’t disrespect Wham like that!”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head. “You would love that song, big boy.” Pulling his gaze away from Steve and the annoyed pout he’s currently sporting, he locks eyes with Robin. “Quick Buckley, name the worst Christmas song.”

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” obviously.”

“What!” Steve gasps from beside her. “It’s romantic!”

“It’s predatory, Steve! He’s holding her hostage!”

“Sorry, Stevie, but I have to side with Robin on this one.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Steve says, rolling his eyes as he goes back to checking in returns.

“I see your “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” and I raise you “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” Eddie says.

Robin hums in contemplation before tilting her head. “Not a fan of birds?”

“Honestly, the birds are the least offensive part of the song.”

“Oh no,” Steve groans, turning around in his chair to face them. “I smell a Munson rant in our future.”

“Good thing we have all the candy we could ever ask for,” Robin muses already fishing out a container of gummy words from the candy counter to her left. “Let's hear it, Munson.”

Eddie takes a moment to gather himself, takes a big inhale of air, and then launches into his practiced rant about how “Twelve Days of Christmas” is the worst Christmas song to ever be created. Sure, it doesn’t have predatory connotations like Robin’s song, but it does have a shit ton of birds that no person would ever want to be gifted. And that’s only the beginning. He rants about the unbearable upbeat music, the repetitive nature, and all the other stupid gifts this unnamed person gets their so-called true love.

But his biggest qualm with the song comes at the end of his nearly fifteen-minute rant.

“And no one even questions why there’s suddenly 12 days of Christmas! Christmas is one day not twelve. It’s encroaching on Hanukkah,” he huffs, hands thrown in the air nearly knocking over the pile of returns Steve was previously working through. “Multiple days of celebration is our thing, but oh, no, the Christmas crew had to come take it.”

“Huh. I never thought about it like that.”

“Glad I could enlighten you,” he says, bowing in her direction. When he comes back up from his dramatic, he turns in Steve’s direction. “What about you, Stevie? Have I changed your stance on Christmas songs?”

“I mean, yeah… “Twelve Days of Christmas,” you know is a stupid song, but I mean Wham’s “Last Christmas” isn’t.”

Eddie thunks his head against the counter at the same time Robin lets out a groan. As far as Eddie’s concerned, there’s no arguing with Steve on this one. It’s best to cut is losses, rent the movie Dustin requested for the first annual Hellfire Movie Night, and get out of here before he has to bear witness to whatever Steve’s face looks like when Wham blasts through the shitty speakers.

“Take me with you,” Robin pleads, hand clasped around his wrist.

“Sorry, Buckley. You’re on your own with this one.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“So far I have a dreidel, latke, and eight candles shining. But I still need five more things.” Groaning, Steve tips his head back, narrowly missing the neon Family Video sign. “This is harder than I thought.”

“What exactly are you doing?” Robin asks through a mouthful of gummy bears.

“M’trying to rewrite “Twelve Days of Christmas” into “Eight Nights of Hanukkah” for Eddie.”

“Aw, Steve,” she coos, rolling her chair over to him so she can give him a playful pat on the back. “You’re finally going to tell him you like him with a song!”

“What?” he shouts, head whipping forward. If he wakes up with a kink in his neck tomorrow, it’s entirely Robin’s fault. And he’s going to make sure she knows it. “I don’t like Eddie!"

Robin scoffs. “Right, so you’re just writing him a song because…”

“Because, his little rant was inspiring, okay? It’s not fair that Christmas has all these songs and Hanukkah only has that dreidel one,” Steve grumbles. “Maybe if he had his own song to sing he wouldn’t hate mine so much.”

“Alright well, good luck with that,” Robin snorts before quickly disappearing to help the sole customer in the store.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Steve spends the next three Family Video shifts rewriting “Twelve Days Of Christmas” into a Hanukkah-themed song worthy of Eddie’s praise. Reluctantly Robin pitches in on the second day, reminding Steve that the lyrics don’t have to be about Hanukkah since birds have nothing to do with Christmas.

The revelation is the key to breaking the writer's block he was facing and by the end of their third shift of the week, Steve has a perfectly crafted “Eight Night of Hanukkah” song ready for Eddie’s eyes.

When Eddie strolls in five minutes before they close, Robin starts goading Steve into delivering his present. She wants him to sing the song to him, but he’s not about to

put himself through that embarrassment — especially not in front of Eddie who can actually carry a tune. Instead, he passes Eddie the piece of paper he carefully transferred the final lyrics to this afternoon and watches with bated breath as Eddie takes it in his hands and begins to read it.

The silence is unbearable and Steve’s three seconds away from jumping over the counter, retreating to his Beamer, and running away from Hawkins so he never has to see him again, when Eddie clears his throat.

“You wrote this?” Eddie asks and Steve nods, bile rising in his chest. “For me?”

“I mean, yeah? I just… I couldn't stop thinking about what you said and—“

He’s cut off by the feeling of Eddie’s arms tugging him forward. His hip collides into the counter, but its all worth it when Eddie leans forward, wrapping himself as best he can around Steve.

He’s warm, warmer than Steve thought he would be. The scarf he’s been wearing for weeks now smells like cigarettes and something woodsy — a cologne or aftershave if Steve had to guess. Steve can feel the rise and fall of his chest as Eddie rocks him closer.

It makes Steve feel… well it, makes him feel something.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Eddie admits, finally letting go of Steve.

“It was nothing, man,” Steve shrugs and ignores the way Robin rolls her eyes beside him. At least she has the decency to hide her scoff behind an impromptu coughing fit.

“Nothing? You wrote a song! That’s not nothing! Seriously, thank you. M’gonna go home and put music to it immediately. None of that upbeat “Twelve Days of Christmas” nonsense though. This deserves real guitars.”

“Will you play it for me?”

“Course! We’re co-creators on this bad boy now!”

Steve likes the sound of that.

Maybe more than he should.

#steddiemas #two fics today surpise!#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve fic #eddie fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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buckyssoldat · 4 months

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Echoes of love (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: After a few months of living with Peggy, Steve couldn’t help but feel unhappy. Turns out, Peggy was not the one he truly loved after all.

Word count: 475

Requested: Yes

Warnings: unrequited love (kinda), heartbreak, sadness

A/N: I know I said “Greatest love” was going to be the last part but someone requested it, so I had to oblige hehe. So, here it goes. Also, please check my series, ‘Forsaken – The Fallen Soldier’. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

When the opportunity arose to return to the 1940s and reunite with the love of his life Peggy Carter, Steve didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even think about this ex-girlfriend. Peggy was the kind of love he believed only happened once in a lifetime, so it was a no-brainer. The quiet streets, the dance halls, and Peggy’s warm smile were a refuge from all the battles that seemed to have defined him before.

Months passed and living with Peggy seemed like a dream. She was happier than ever, to have her Steve back, something she never thought was even possible. But for Steve, things were different. Of course, for the first couple of months, everything was like a dream, but things started to shift. Something was missing – she was missing, his ex-girlfriend. Peggy knew him like the back of her hand, so she sensed something was off with him.

“Darling, is everything okay?” Peggy inquired, her voice a gentle comfort in the air.

Steve, fighting with his emotions, could only manage a faint smile. He couldn’t shake the thought of the one who had slipped through the cracks of time.

After almost a year of living with Peggy, Steve finally made a choice. The idea of going back to her became too hard to resist. He said goodbye to his past love, who was very understanding of his feelings and went to the year 2024.

The modern world looked almost the same as when he left. Steve was determined to rewrite the love story that was lost in the pages of history. He finally found her again, but the reunion was not as he had hoped.

The restaurant he found her was near her place. She hadn’t changed, not even a little bit. Even her laugh was still the same. For a few seconds, he couldn’t help but smile to himself – he missed that infectious laugh, the kind that could uplift everything and everyone. However, his smile soon turned into a frown – she was sitting in front of a man, tightly holding his hand. From the shadows, he watched as a spectator to a life that had moved forward without him. A life that could also be his.

“Logan, I love you so much…” he heard her say to the unknown man. The weight of those words, who were once meant for him, now belonged to another. He was witnessing a love story that was no longer his. The woman he loved had found comfort in the arms of someone else.

Steve decided it was best to not bother her and potentially ruin her new life without him. He walked away, carrying the heavy weight of his decisions on his shoulders. The hero who had once stood frozen in history now faced the challenge of disappearing into a world that had gone wrong beyond his control.

masterlist

#steve rogers #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader

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bettyfrommars · 4 months

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Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees. It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment. There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place. The head maintenance guy. This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from. “Both him and his nephew Eddie. Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light. From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.

“Ready?” She smiled back at you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them.

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face. She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle. You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night.

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them. A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part. Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches. An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something. Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind. You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare. When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down. “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her.

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment. “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music. Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door.

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen. You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach. You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall. “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink. He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene. A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice. “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors. Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction. Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him. It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes. On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation. He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there. “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest. But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands.

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers. Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action. “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser. Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand. It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.

Eddie could read Lance like a book. A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have. Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back.

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side.

You were not supposed to be there. What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd.

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.

The surfer boy went down

Hard.

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one. You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can. He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty. He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry. “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer. You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum. Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest. He put a hand on the back of your head. “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious. Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed.

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five. “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked. “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one,

but he was gone.

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove. He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins. There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow. The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut. His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks.

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing. He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you.

There was no one there.

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

-------

taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson series #Dirty Metal Summer #Eddie Munson fic #dirty dancing au #eddie munson x reader

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thesecretwriter · 10 months

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more than just friends (part 1) - steve rogers.

pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader

warning: angst city, mean!steve rogers, hurtful words, argument between steve and reader, platonic!bucky barnes, features some of the avengers

summary: the reader and steve have a tension between them - even if they're just friends. whenever they are in the company of each other everything feels right. even at the smallest of moments. steve wants the opportunity to love someone. he wants to move on from the 'what ifs?' from his past, but why does it seem so hard? this is where the reader comes in, always there when steve needs to talk or just bask in the silence of each other’s company. she craves to feel a love she has never known. can the man she dreams about provide that for her or is she pinning after a story with no ending.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic from a while back. i didn't like how it was, so here ya go, enjoy!

minors/ageless blogs dni.

Masterlists

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

“Steve, have you seen y/n?” Sam asked as Steve walked into the living room.

“No, how would I know where she is?” Steve asked confused, with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“What’s going on with you? I just asked a question.” Sam stated perplexed.

Steve was never one to be rude to his friends, regardless of his mood, he was always able to be respectable. However, his mood seemed to be on the downside today.

He ignored Sam and walked to the elevators. As he waited for the elevator, Tony appeared next to him with a small smirk.

“Top of the morning to you, Cap,” he said greeted unnecessarily loudly.

“Tony,” he responded with a stiff nod.

“What’s the plans for today?” He asked.

“Nothing,” Steve answered straightforwardly.

“Okay good. Do you know where y/n is?” he asked, feigning curiosity.

“No. I do not,” he answered muttered.

All Tony did was nod since Steve seemed agitated, which was very rare to see.

“Alright then, I’ll leave you to it. Although if you are looking for her, I suggest looking near the compound grounds,” with nothing else left to say. Steve is left wondering why you could possibly be out there on your own.

He didn’t seem to notice the contradiction behind what Tony said, he asked where you were, but ended up answering his own question.

Steve made his way down and was thinking of asking Bucky to spar with him outside. It seemed like the weather was good, and all he wanted was to take his mind off from today. Sparing would be a good distraction.

“Hey buck, wanna spar outside? The weather seems to be working in our favor,” he asked Bucky who was seemingly playing with his pocketknife.

“Sorry Steve. Kinda busy right now. You could ask y/n though. She’s available today,” he said dismissively.

“I would’ve asked her if I wanted to.” He grunted and started to walk off.

What was wrong with everyone? They kept on mentioning y/n, he thought to himself.

Steve had a good mind of telling everyone to leave him alone, but the curiosity of got the best of him and he found himself walking toward the compound grounds.

After 2 years of exchanging glances and smiles, sharing vulnerable words and subtle touches, you were finally going to tell Steve about how you feel. Anyone with two eyes and a brain can see and sense the feelings that Steve seems to feel towards you.

So, you came clean to the team about what you wanted to do. Being the good support system they were, they helped you to set up a cute little picnic for you and Steve on the compound grounds that has a breathtaking scenery surrounding it.

The difficult part was getting an unsuspecting Steve to your location, but that seemed to work on your behalf since you see Steve heading in your direction.

“Hey,” you say nervously as he gets closer.

“Hi, what’s with the food and picnic setup?” he asked as he glanced behind you to see all the food set out.

“I decided that it was a good morning to have a little picnic, in fact I was hoping for you to join me since I have something to discuss with you,” you rambled on trying to grasp onto the right words while your hands moved around.

The night before had your tummy filled with butterflies. You even practiced what you wanted to say and how you were going to say it.

“Alright, but I have somewhere I need to be in about an hour,” Steve replied, his tone was monotone which was rather unusual of him. He glanced down at his watch and then back up at you.

“It won’t be long,” you smiled and went over to the blanket you had spread out.

Steve sat across from you and took a plum that was within his reach.

It was quiet for a moment before you finally built up the courage to start telling him how you feel.

“You’re a very dear friend of mine and I’m happy to have you be a part of my life. God knows how many times you were there when I needed someone. We’ve shared many moments in the time we have known each other in ways no one else could. You may be Captain America to the world, but to me you’re Steve Rogers. The man who puts everyone before himself and adjusted to living in a new world. There are so many things about you to admire. The moment you and I made eye contact when we were celebrating Peter’s 18th birthday made me realize how I feel about you. Every moment I spend with you, I fall deeper,”

Your heart rate had spiked up since the moment you started talking. Your eyes never left Steve’s; he could see the emotion in your eyes as every word left your lips.

A moment of silence passed through the atmosphere around you.

Steve woke up from where he was sat and began to walk away from you, not even looking back.

It happened so fast that you only took a deep breath in after his figure faded into the distance.

You suddenly felt a drop on your hand that was settled on your lap. It was your tears. One by one, the tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Everything hit you at once and the negative thoughts started, how could you even think that he could feel the same? Steve Rogers, who had encountered so many people that did more than you could ever dream of.

But then again everyone around you were so sure that he felt the same, were they wrong? All of them?

You sat there alone and staggered with your thoughts – time moved around you and you didn’t know how long it took, but you eventually gathered the food and other items and walked toward the compound hoping to not see anyone on your way up to your room. You couldn’t bear to have them see you like this.

Once you were in your room, you collapsed on your bed and sobbed to your hearts content. Only one thought was on your mind.

His words would’ve been better than his silence.

Hours passed, and by now it was dark outside.

“Steven Grant Rogers, who gave you the audacity to act the way you did with y/n?” Bucky’s voice boomed through the empty living room as Steve arrived back at the compound after spending the whole day away and Bucky had been sitting and waiting for him.

“What now Buck? I had a rough day and would like to spend the night peacefully in my room,” Steve complained as he glared at his metal armed friend.

“Rough day? You have some nerve acting like that after what happened between you and y/n?” Bucky questioned growing annoyed.

“It’s none of your business,” Steve stiffened knowing that by now every one of the avengers knew what happened.

Upon your lack of presence the whole day, Bucky sought you out to see how the picnic had panned out, you had given him the rundown version of what happened, and to say he was disappointed and angered towards Steve would be an understatement.

“None of my business? Funny how you say that after talking to me about her the way you do. In all our years of friendship, I have never heard you speak about anyone the way you spoke about her. She finally got the courage to express how she felt and all you did was walk away?” Bucky was on the verge of throwing the nearest object at Steve.

Steve spent hours talking about what an admirable woman you are and how the smallest things you did made his heart skip a beat. Where were those words now? What changed how he felt? If anything, he should be happy that you reciprocated the way he felt towards you.

“Today is just not the day for that, and I don’t want to deal with her overexaggerating,” he said with anger.

“Where is all this even coming from? And what day could it possibly be that you would act this way-“

“It’s the damn day I first met Peggy, okay!” Steve shouted.

A silence fell upon the two super soldiers.

“The day you met her-…Steve that is the silliest thing that has ever come from you. I would understand if it were the day she died, but this? The day you met her? Peggy lived a full life with a man she loved, she had children and experienced life till the end. You have someone who is more than willing to give you the same, and you disregard her because it is the day you met Peggy?”

Bucky stared at Steve with a look of shock, the man standing before him was unrecognizable to him.

Steve remains quiet.

Yes, he did have someone who he can have a life with, but to him Peggy was it. She saw him for who he really was. Had he not gone under ice he would have been the man to give Peggy the life she deserved. At least that’s how he felt whenever his thoughts strayed to the past.

He ignores Bucky’s stare and makes his way to your room. In his mind, his best friend would not have spoken to him like that if you did not open your mouth to them. This is all your fault, or at least in his eyes it was.

Once in front of your door, he angrily knocked on it, waiting for you to open the door.

“It is 9 freaking pm, whoever is behind this door better have a good reason to be knocking on it,” he heard you mutter.

“Oh, I have a very good reason,” he grits as you open the door and stand looking at him astounded.

“Wha-… Steve, where were you? I haven’t seen you since the morning,” you inquire, completely forgetting about how he made you feel and concentrating on whether he was okay from the way he looked so angered.

“Where I go and what I do is none of your business, but since you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut. I was at Peggy’s grave the entire day,” you stared at him with your mouth agape, he had never spoken to you with such a venomous tone.

“… and if you would’ve kept your mouth shut, then I wouldn’t have my best friend blowing up in my face and arguing with me the minute I step in. Can you ever keep things to yourself?” he asked annoyed.

By now you had processed every word you said.

“Steve, I would never say anything to cause an argument between you and Bucky. Whatever happened this morning did hurt me, I confessed my feelings to you, and you just left. But Bucky and the rest of the team were the ones to convince me to even talk to you about it. Had I known what day it was I would’ve never done anything,” you kept your tone calm and collected. Although Steve had never spoken to you like this, you would never hold this against him.

Today was a meaningful day for him, and like you said, had you known what day it was you would have never even planned the picnic.

“Is that so? Because if I recall you were the one to orchestrate the whole plan. Sure, the others may have pushed me in your direction, but you played the bigger part in it,” he said recalling how everyone basically made him find you this morning.

“I’m going to ignore every word you say because I know you’re only saying it out of anger. You can speak to me when you have calmed down and collected your thoughts, because clearly this is not the Steve that I know talking,” you said this looking him straight in the eyes and meaning every word that left your lips.

It is unfortunate to say, but there were many times where you fell victim to being the target of many people’s anger. Although you knew they would never say these words in the right state of mind, it still hurt to endure hearing them from people you care about, and right now hearing it from the man you love was slowly tearing your heart apart.

“You think you know me so well. Sure, I come to you when I need someone but that is only because you were just there, always waiting. Doing nothing else but waiting. You think I want to come to you? The only reason I even make my way to you is because Peggy is not here. If she were here, you wouldn’t even be an option,”

Each word to you was a knife to the heart and a pinch at your soul.

Tears made their way down your face, your knees felt weak, with your heart beating too fast. His words had struck a nerve, and to you, they may have held some form of honesty in them.

“You don’t think I know that? I stay at your side knowing that I will never be good enough. That I will never be her, yet I still stayed when you needed me, just hoping that somewhere in that heart of yours you would find a way to love me... No more now, no more will I put your feelings before mine. I stand by what I said before, but your words hurt too much to ignore. Goodnight Captain,”

With that being said you close the door and lock it, falling to the floor and bringing your knees to your chest.

You heart was officially done.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x you #steve roger x y/n #steve rogers x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #angst

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eiightysixbaby · 11 months

Text

silver springs: part one

You Make Loving Fun

i never did believe in miracles, but i’ve a feeling it’s time to try

word count: 7.7k

pairing: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!fem!reader

summary: you and your boyfriend eddie’s band gets the offer of a lifetime, sending you on a spiral into international fame. this is everything the five of you have ever wanted - producing an album, going on tour. what could go wrong?

cw: 18+ ONLY. this chapter does contain SMUT - although brief, there are depictions of unprotected sex. i try to keep use of y/n to a minimum - reader’s nickname is dove/dovey and this will be used frequently throughout the fic. drug and alcohol mentions, reader and the band drink & get high, and i think that’s it, really. the rest of this chapter is pretty tame!

authors note: ah here it is! the first chapter of my 1970s band au! please remember that future chapters of this fic will contain some heavier subject matter (cheating, drug/alcohol abuse, detailed depictions of sex). if this bothers you, DO NOT READ. i’m very happy to finally put chapter one out into the world and i hope you all enjoy! listen to the series playlist here!

May 17th, 1972. Hawkins, Indiana

You and your bandmates sit sprawled across the furniture in Steve’s living room, bouncing around song ideas. Warm spring air wafts in through an open window, birdsong lilting softly in the trees outside. A clock ticks methodically from the wall by the front door. Robin dangles upside down off of a chair, taking a puff of a cigarette, her hair dangling to the floor.

“What?” She catches you staring at her, “I can focus better like this, I’m serious.”

You huff a laugh, writing and rewriting a lyric in your song book, then scratching it out altogether. She softly sings to herself, trying to will the lyrics to come to her.

“Sweet, wonderful youuu….. you are, no- you make… you make me…”

The four of you - you, Steve, Robin, and your drummer Gareth - had been sitting for what felt like hours. Trying, and ultimately failing to get some new songs brewing. Your fellow frontman and boyfriend, Eddie, was off doing god-knows-what. He wouldn’t tell you guys, just said he was gonna be showing up to Steve’s late. Steve mindlessly plucks at his bass, frowning as he starts to get the hang of a riff but then loses it.

The five of you started your band, The Rumors, about a year ago, had humble beginnings in Gareth’s garage - much to his neighbors’ dismay. You would spend hours upon hours toiling away in that garage, writing, rewriting, perfecting your songs. And really, there was a lot of talent there, even from the very beginning. You knew how to lift each other up, encourage one another to be better musicians, and it was a great dynamic to be coming up in. You’d been extremely fortunate in your close-knit hometown, being offered slots to perform at local bars, and word would get out and occasionally you’d travel to bars and clubs on the outskirts of Hawkins. Small crowds, and hardly any of them were paid gigs, but it sure as hell got word around.

As for you and Eddie, the two of you were high school sweethearts, formed a bond over your love of music and the rest was history. Two fools in love, you started writing songs together for fun, Eddie would play his acoustic as you would sing. His uncle Wayne picked up on the talent you two had, always saying things like ‘You kids should start a band or somethin’. Bet you’d make it real far.’ At first the two of you just brushed it off, figured he was just being nice. But after you’d both graduated, and neither of you had a clue what you wanted to do with your lives now, the thought of starting a band lingered, bounced around in your brain until you couldn’t think of anything else. It consumed Eddie’s thoughts as much as it consumed yours. He knew Gareth from middle school, knew he played drums and ended up pitching the idea to him - and he was on board immediately. You knew Steve, who was learning bass at the time, and your mutual friend Nancy was dating Robin, who was wicked good on the keys and had a stellar voice.

Everything fell into place just like that. Your group started practicing together, and became pretty much inseparable. You all really fell into a groove, taking on different roles in the band as you learned each other’s personalities. Robin was quick-witted and smart, always there to listen to your problems or offer advice, and man - she’s a chatterbox. She’s great at songwriting and always brings strong ideas to the table. She’s loyal to her loved ones, and she’s a huge softie when it comes to you guys, and especially Nancy. Steve is basically the mom of the band, yelling at Eddie when he shows up to practice late, giving Robin rides everywhere, keeping you all in line and making sure no one ends up dead on a night at the bars. He tends to come across as very serious - business oriented. All about the music and perfecting his craft. But when you get to know him, he’s a sweetheart. He just wants to make sure everything goes according to plan, is all. Gareth is the comedic relief, a phenomenal drummer, and he knows how to party. He’s kind, always welcoming, and all in all just happy to be here. He’s always willing to let Eddie bounce ideas off him, and you can count on him to give you his genuine opinions. Eddie is the showstopper, truly. He can be a little disorganized and scattered at times but he’s passionate about what he does. A social butterfly, a sweet-talker, excellent at getting his way. He’s also just downright pretty (but you were definitely biased). He’s determined and never lets a setback stop him. The perfect frontman, confident and loud. And as for you, you’re typically the peacekeeper, the sweet one. You have a soft heart, you love fiercely, trust willingly, and are willing to give your all for this band. You’re the other side of Eddie’s coin, and you’re happy to follow him on your shared dream.

You guys were in the process of trying to write an album, trying to get some bigger shows, get an ‘in’ with someone who had connections in the music scene. As frustrating as it could be at times, none of you were willing to give up. Eddie would always talk about how you guys were going to be the biggest rock band in the world someday, like it was a sure thing, and god how you all hoped he was right.

“Seriously, what should come after this line- ‘Sweet wonderful you, you make me…’ you make me what!?” Robin sighs dramatically, sitting upright and putting her cigarette out in the ashtray.

“How about, ‘You make me happy with the things you do’?” you offer, lighting up when Robin’s eyes go wide.

“Yes! That’s it, oh my god. Thank you thank you,” she scribbles it in her notebook, humming the tune to herself.

“That’s going somewhere, Rob. Seriously, don’t give up on that one,” Steve encourages, moving to stand behind her chair and give her shoulders a squeeze.

Just as Robin’s about to throw more lyrics out, the front door swings open, and Eddie comes barreling in. He’s biting on his bottom lip, like he’s trying to hold his smile back from breaking free.

“Eddie… what’s that face? What’re you up to?” Gareth asks, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

“Oh, nothing…. just, y’know, got us a gig at The Corner in Indianapolis, where Scott Pierce may or may not be watching us play,” Eddie’s lips twist into a smirk as he talks.

The Corner was an insanely popular club in the city, plenty of bands playing there, getting their start. Scott Pierce was a huge name in the music industry, well-known manager for many different bands and artists and had as many connections as a small band from Hawkins could possibly ask for. How Eddie had pulled this off, you had no idea.

“What!? Eddie, are you fucking serious, man!?” Steve shouts, shaking Robin as he does, her head bobbling around slightly.

You and Gareth jump out of your seats, badgering Eddie for more context.

“I was just on the phone with someone at Scott’s office - I sent them that demo tape we made of Don’t Stop, they dug it - pulled some strings, got us a gig. He’s gonna attend and if he likes us, which he will of course, we could have a bigger offer in store. We could finally make an album!” Eddie’s beaming, his hands shaking with excitement.

The four of you rush to him, everyone hugging and cheering. Eddie picks you up and spins you around, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“This is it, baby. This could really be it for us,” he whispers to you, your foreheads pressed together.

You’re grateful Eddie’s holding onto you because your whole body feels like jello, your knees almost weak with excitement.

“Celebratory beer, anyone?” Steve asks, pulling a six-pack from the fridge.

You each take a bottle and cheers to ‘making an album’. Robin scurries off to ring Nancy, practically tripping over her feet on the way to the phone. You and the guys hover around the kitchen counter in content silence, just smiling at each other like idiots. This could really be the start of everything.

Robin enters the room once more after hanging up the phone, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter and laughing to herself, spinning on the rotating seat.

“I just told Nance the news, oh my god, I hope I didn’t jinx our luck or something. This is like, totally a miracle and I usually don’t believe in miracles but maybe I should start,” Robin rambles nervously, all flailing hands as she talks. “Oh my god, wait! I’m gonna turn that into a line for my song…..” she trails off as she walks to the living room to grab her lyric book.

The rest of the group exchanges knowing glances at each other, because yeah, this certainly was a miracle - and you were going to take a chance on it.

May 24th, 1972. Indianapolis, Indiana.

It’s an unusually hot day for May in Indiana when the band pulls up to The Corner that Friday night, your skin prickling with sweat beneath your crochet top. You open the passenger door to Eddie’s vehicle, a burnt orange VW bus that he saved up for for years, the perfect size for carting around the whole band and your equipment. You step out onto the street, the hustle and bustle of the city whirring around you. Car horns honking, kids whizzing by on bicycles, music playing from somewhere you couldn’t detect. You were taking in the sights, looking up at the sign above the entrance to the club, where your band name sat in big black letters across the white board. Eddie sidled up beside you, snaking an arm around your waist and kissing the top of your head.

“I can’t fucking believe it, Eds. That’s our band listed up there. I just… wow,” you shake your head, laughing giddily as you do.

“Believe it, baby. We’re movin’ up in the world,” he grins at you.

He presses a kiss to your lips before walking around to the back of the van, helping the others unload your gear. The group heads inside and you’re all instantly greeted by the owner of the establishment, a big burly man with a handlebar mustache.

“Ah! You must be The Rumors, am I right?” he asks, grinning widely at the bunch of you.

“Yep, that’s us, pleasure to meet you,” Steve stretches out a hand for him to shake, and the rest of you follow suit.

He introduces himself as Mitch before he shows you to the stage and tells you where the bathrooms are in case you need to spruce yourselves up before your set time later. He wishes you all luck and with that, he heads back to his post at the bar.

Time passes quickly as you work to set up the small stage, plugging in amps, tuning guitars, making sure you don’t trip over any cords in the process. Robin brought Nancy along with her so she could take photos of the gig tonight. Nancy had basically become the band’s personal photographer, taking photos at practices and every gig you’ve played so far, collecting tangible memories of your time together. It was sweet, really, and she loved having an excuse to follow Robin around. You and Eddie sing bits and pieces of a couple different songs to make sure the mics are sounding right, before the full band joins for a quick run-through of the five songs you’ll be playing this evening. It sounds great, you have to admit, but only time will tell if it’s good enough to get you an album deal.

Later that evening, you find yourself peeking out from behind the heavy velvet curtain, scanning the scattered tables on the floor. When your eyes land on none other than Scott Pierce, you feel yourself swallow a lump in your throat. He sits at a table alone, talking to a thin blonde woman and sipping on a beer. Robin comes up behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Is he out there?” She asks in a whisper, even though no one would be able to hear the two of you anyways.

“Yeah… yeah he is. Are you ready for this?” you glance over your shoulder at her, eyeing her nervously.

“Honestly, I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been. But I’m also excited. Optimistic. This is our moment,” she smiles warmly at you and you can’t help but ease up. “All we gotta do is play our little hearts out like it doesn’t matter who’s watching.”

“You’re right. This is our moment. Let’s fucking do this,” you grin back, squeezing her in a tight hug.

The rest of the band is bustling in the small backstage area, Steve fixing his hair in a handheld mirror he brought, Gareth asking Eddie for his opinion on which shirt he should wear tonight (and Eddie getting incredibly frustrated because ‘it’s the same fucking shirt man, that one’s just a slightly lighter denim’). And he’s right, Gareth is holding up two almost identical denim button ups, one being a slightly lighter wash than the other - barely noticeable at a glance.

“Fifteen minutes till we’re on, guys, let’s get the show on the road,” you say as you head to the bathroom to fix your makeup.

You look at yourself in the mirror, pleased with your appearance. You wear an off-white long sleeve top that stops just above your belly button, exposing some skin but not too much, and the sleeves billow out at your wrists. An olive green suede skirt embroidered with flowers rests on your hips, and on your feet you wear short white boots with a chunky heel. Gold hoop earrings rest in your ears and a few different necklaces dangle low on your chest. You smudge some black eyeliner around your eyes and apply a generous layer of mascara to your lashes. Satisfied with the look, you ruffle your hair and put the makeup back in your bag. You take a deep breath in, grounding yourself, hyping yourself up for what you’re about to do.

You step out of the bathroom and run into Eddie, looking gorgeous in his dark denim bell bottoms and a red button up shirt, the top three buttons undone, exposing his pale chest and the gold chain he wears around his neck.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiles at you, grabbing your waist and pulling you in to kiss you all over.

“Hi handsome, you ready to play?” you smile back, cupping his face in your hands.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, sweets. Let’s rock n roll,” and with that, he’s pulling you backstage, eager and buzzing to start the show.

You hear Mitch speaking into the microphone on the stage, greeting everyone that’s gathered and thanking them for bringing business in. He keeps his speech short before announcing that there’d be a live band playing this evening for everyone.

“Ladies and gents, let’s give a warm welcome to The Rumors!” he steps off the stage, clapping with the rest of the club’s patrons.

And with that, you’re walking out onto the tiny stage, staring out at the startlingly large crowd packed in such a small space. Your eyes fall on Scott in the crowd once again, and this time his eyes meet yours. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Everyone positions themselves accordingly on stage, and you all exchange glances, giving one another encouraging nods and smiles. Nancy sits close to the stage with her camera and gives you all a thumbs up. The lights over the floor dim, focusing all of the attention on the five twenty-something year olds that stand eager behind their instruments and microphones.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Robin’s starting the show off on the keys. The first song of the night is Don’t Stop. You all deemed that to be the appropriate first track seeing as that was the song Eddie sent over to Scott’s office. Eddie sings the first lines into the microphone, taking charge like a natural. He’s always been like this, always had a knack for commanding attention onto him, enthralling an entire room with his energy. It’s no different when he’s on stage - in fact it’s even more powerful. Robin and Eddie sing together on this song, you don’t have any vocals on this one, so you flounce around on stage with your tambourine, grooving to the beat and letting the music flow through you.

You don’t realize it, but you captivate the audience just as much as Eddie does, if not more. Strikingly beautiful up on the stage as you dance around, the lights making your jewelry sparkle. Eddie watches the way you move, loves seeing you in your element like this. He hopes he’ll get to see you up on stage every night, selling out stadiums together.

By the end of the first song you feel your nerves washing away, your body freeing up gradually and letting you just flow. Next song up is an upbeat, folky little number that Eddie wrote, titled Second Hand News. Once again, you aren’t supposed to sing on this one, but you end up walking over to Eddie’s mic and singing harmony on the chorus with him. If anyone thought you two were captivating on your own, your energy together is electric, so much power behind both of your voices combined. Scott notes this as he watches you from the audience, can’t tear his eyes away from you and Eddie. You have something special, and he can tell.

Finally, as the third song starts, it’s your time to sing. You’ve been working on a song, Rhiannon, and you don’t feel like it’s quite complete but the rough version works for now. It’s slower than the first two numbers, your voice crooning into the microphone as you sing of the fictional woman you’ve dreamed up in your head. You’re expressive while you sing, arms extending and moving freely, the fabric of your shirt sleeves draping down and flowing with every movement. The band does minimal backing vocals in the chorus, but otherwise this song is your moment. Eddie watches you absolutely awestruck, and he swears the crowd has collectively leaned forward, craning to hear every word that leaves your lips.

The final two songs are covers, and when your set is over the audience claps and cheers, a much more rowdy applause than you expected. Eddie thanks everyone for listening tonight and the five of you take a big bow, arm in arm, before exiting the stage. Backstage, everyone is chatting excitedly, congratulating each other on a job well done. Eddie’s standing behind you, long arms wrapped around you as you blush at Robin’s praise over your Rhiannon performance. The chatter stops when Mitch comes to the back, bringing Scott Pierce with him.

“Well, you guys had one hell of a show tonight,” Scott says, way friendlier than you expected him to be.

“Mr. Pierce, thank you so much for coming tonight. I’m Eddie, this is Y/N, Steve, Robin, and Gareth,” Eddie introduces each of you, and Scott greets you all warmly.

“It’s my pleasure, really. I’m very pleasantly surprised by the talent you guys have, that was some serious stuff up there,” he praises you, and you catch Steve’s eye as he grins at you from over Scott’s shoulder, mouthing ‘He likes us!’.

“That means so much to us, really,” you reply. “We love making music, it’s a dream to be here tonight.”

“I can tell you all have a lot of passion for this band. Eddie, you were the one who spoke with Linda at my office, right? What do you say we chit chat for a little, privately?” Eddie nods, motioning for Scott to lead the way to a table.

He turns around and gives you all a quick thumbs up, and the rest of you all jump around like hyper children. The time that Eddie’s gone feels like an eternity, and you’re waiting with baited breath to hear what Scott pitched to your boyfriend. What if it’s not the offer you want? You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t gotten your hopes up, dreaming of releasing an album and going on tour, playing sold out shows with your best friends every single night since Eddie told you all that he got you a gig. Not hearing what you want from Scott would feel like a punch to the gut.

“Relax darlin’, you look all tense over here,” Gareth places a hand on your shoulder, giving you a lopsided smile. “We’re gonna be fine, he really liked us.”

You don’t get a chance to respond before the curtain is ripped open and Eddie is running over to you, picking you up and spinning you around.

“Guess who’s making a fucking record!?” he hollers, setting you down and holding your hands in his.

“No way, Eddie! No way, are you serious?” you’re yelling back at him, Gareth, Steve, Robin, and now Nancy all gathering around you.

“We’re making an album! He fucking loved us, we got an offer to start recording at Sound City in California, a meeting with a big label. If all goes well, we’ll be touring, topping the fucking charts,” Eddie is beaming, talking a mile a minute.

The room fills with a chorus of excited cheering and shouting, the whole bunch of you having a group hug. You feel your eyes well up with happy tears as you look around at your friends, all smiles. Robin pulls Nancy into a kiss, Eddie ruffles Gareth’s hair, and you’re hugging Steve tight, probably staining his shirt with your watery eyes.

After you’ve all thanked Scott profusely and made loose plans to be in California within the next few weeks, the band packs up their gear and you all hit the road back to Hawkins. The energy in the van is different on the ride home, all of you singing loudly along to whatever comes on the radio, each of you dreaming up the wildest ideas of superstardom.

Later that night, back at home, you’re in bed with Eddie. Riding him slowly, holding a joint to your lips as you take a hit before passing it back to him. A window is open, night air warm with the promise of the approaching summer as it wafts in through the screen. Eddie hums blissfully beneath you, dark curls sprawled across the pillow under his head. You love intimate moments like this with Eddie, but as much as you want to focus on him right now, your mind wanders. He catches this, unsurprisingly. He can always sense a shift in your mood.

“What’s on that mind of yours, dove?” he asks, putting the joint in the ashtray on the nightstand.

“I dunno…. it’s silly,” you sigh, not meeting his gaze as those big brown eyes stare up at you.

“Baby, nothing is silly if it’s bothering you. Talk to me,” he coos, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You stop the slow rocking of your hips and tilt your cheek into his touch. “I’m just…. scared, Ed. I’m so happy we got this offer, it’s everything you and I have wanted since high school. But - I don’t know,” you stop yourself, chewing on your lip. Eddie rubs his thumb along your cheek, silently encouraging you to keep talking. “What if this changes everything, babe? What if fame is too much for us, what if it destroys us… comes between us….” you trail off, eyes searching his for an answer.

“My little dove, nothing is going to come between us,” Eddie says, voice soft but serious. “I love you more than words - you’re my world, baby, and I’m so excited to do all of these big things with you by my side,” his hands run up and down the sides of your body, relaxing you. “This is a big change for us, moving out to the West Coast, starting a new life. But I’ll be with you every step of the way. I love you so much.”

You giggle, leaning down to kiss him as he beckons you with a curling finger. His words always have a way of soothing you, his voice sweet like honey as it coaxes you out of your anxious headspace.

“I love you, too. I really can’t wait to have this life with you, Eddie.”

The next couple hours are spent with you two tangled up between the sheets, Eddie making passionate love to you, as you come undone again and again for him. You reassure yourself that while taking the next step into fame might be intimidating, you’ve got Eddie, and your best friends, and you’re gonna be fine.

June 18th, 1972. Los Angeles, California.

The band has arrived on the West Coast. The last couple weeks since your show at The Corner were full of packing your essential belongings, spending time with friends and family as much as possible before you left, writing snippets of songs together here and there so you have something to work off of when it’s time to start recording. The day your road trip to California started, you were misty-eyed saying goodbye to your loved ones. Eddie’s Uncle Wayne even shed a few tears himself, which never happens, and he laughed as Eddie teased him about it - “You getting soft on me, old man?”.

As the five of you drove out of Hawkins, you looked out the back window of the vehicle, saying a silent ‘thank you’ to the town that gave you your start - the town that brought your band together. A bittersweet feeling coursed through you as you cruised past the sign that read ‘Leaving Hawkins. Come Back Soon!’.

The trip to LA didn’t feel as long as it really was, Eddie and Steve taking turns driving the van as you, Robin, and Gareth played cards in the back to pass time, or sang obnoxiously to the radio. Some nights the rumble of the van’s tires on pavement lulled you to sleep as the drive continued on through the darkness. Sometimes you’d take the passenger seat and stay up late with Eddie as he drove under the glow of streetlights. Other nights were filled with the squeaky mattresses and peeling wallpaper of rundown motels that would house you when the task of driving overnight seemed impossible, the electric glow of vacancy signs flashing softly in through the window as you slept in Eddie’s arms, dreaming of world tours and screaming fans.

You documented bits of every single day in your journal, finding comfort in writing things down, your thoughts and feelings throughout the process of a drastic lifestyle change. Robin made sure to pick up various postcards from rest stops along the way to send to Nancy, who wouldn’t be joining you guys in Cali for another 2 weeks. Many quarters were used on payphone calls, each of you calling one person or another back home to let them know how things were going, what state you were in now, and so on. You made sure to take photos whenever you could on your disposable camera - catching Robin and Steve at a rest stop in Nevada, frozen in ridiculous poses as they stretched their sore limbs. There’s one of Gareth asleep in the back of the van, with a mustache drawn on his face in marker - courtesy of Eddie, of course. One taken by Steve of Eddie giving you a piggyback ride through a gas station parking lot, you laughing wildly. All in all, you had a blast on your road trip, as tiring as it was at times. You knew it was leading you to bigger and better things, and that made it more than worth it.

When you arrive to Los Angeles at long last, the evening glow washing over the landscape, Steve pulls the van into the gravelly driveway of the house you guys were renting for the time being, nestled in Laurel Canyon. There was plenty of unpacking to be done, and a meeting with Scott and some producers and label executives at Sound City tomorrow. But before any of it, you needed to sleep in a real bed. You claim a room to serve as yours and Eddie’s, and immediately flop yourself down on the soft mattress. Before long you feel Eddie climb in beside you as you drift to sleep, his long arm wrapping around your waist, and his soft breathing lulling you into peaceful slumber.

The following morning, the house is off the walls with energy. Everyone is excited and also nervous to get the show on the road, eager to start recording some songs. You all scramble to get ready, making yourselves presentable and each downing enough coffee to kill a horse. You have to practically drag Eddie out of the bathroom when it’s time to leave, insisting that yes his hair looked good and yes you liked his outfit and you had to go like right now or you were going to be late and make a horrible impression. Tires peel out of the driveway after loading everyone into the vehicle, and you watch out the windows as you drive down roads unfamiliar to you. You gaze up at the palm trees and white puffy clouds, smiling and waving at people on street corners who caught your eye. The whole city seemed to welcome you, opening up before you and inviting you in.

When you pull into the studio parking lot, you notice Scott waiting by the door, smiling warmly at you all. He shakes everyone’s hands in greeting as he welcomes you to LA, asking about your drive out and making pleasant conversation. He leads you in through the large doors and into the lobby, where a handful of presumably important people are waiting for you, dressed in suits and polished dress shoes. You suddenly feel out of place, standing there in your crochet halter top and a pair of denim shorts, flimsy ankle boots on your feet. No one seems to pay any mind, though, and you’re greeted brightly by all of the new faces. Scott introduces all of them, and wastes no time delving into the business aspect of it all. A couple hours go by answering questions about what your band is looking for, what direction you’d like to head in, going over potential contract info, so on and so forth.

By early afternoon you’re officially signed to a label, set to release an album and go on tour for it. It all felt so surreal, your head spinning as you’d signed your name to the contract, sloping cursive letters beneath finely printed details. The label representatives had asked if you had any songs that were ready to record as single material, wanting to get your band name out there as soon as possible. You’d all agreed that Don’t Stop made the most sense to release as the first single, given that it was really the song that got you here in the first place. It was upbeat and catchy, got stuck in your head, and it wasn’t too long but wasn’t too short. You’d agreed to record it that very day and, if you got a good take, you’d send it off to the label. In the meantime, Scott informed you he’d gotten you some gigs on the Sunset Strip and other nearby sites, playing the Whiskey a Go-Go, the Troubadour, the hot spots. He thought it would be a great way to spread the word about you guys before your first single hit the radio, to really get the anticipation brewing.

Things were a whirlwind after that.

Nancy joined you guys in California, dead set on working as the band’s official photographer, unwilling to let some pompous Hollywood asshole take her place. You began playing the gigs Scott had lined up for you as promised, gathering genuinely large crowds - at least large in your eyes - and by the end of July, Don’t Stop was released as The Rumors’ first single. Everywhere you went, you’d find yourself catching your song on the radio. Your boyfriend’s voice, playing over the speakers of local diners, grocery stores, blasting from the speakers of convertibles that drove down the city streets. It performed well, for a debut single from a previously never-heard-of band. People enjoyed it, they wanted more. The summer was filled with song writing, meetings with more and more important people who’d be working on your team, interviews with magazines and newspapers. And, notably, from the very beginning people took an interest in you and Eddie’s relationship. They thought it was sweet that you two were living out your shared dream, saw potential for the romance to bring good lyrical content.

The album was set to be completed and released by the end of the year, which meant many long nights writing and recording and re-recording. You had a decent track list planned out, an album of ten songs, perfect for a debut record. Don’t Stop would, of course, be on there. Robin’s You Make Loving Fun and your Rhiannon, which you’d been working hard to get polished to your liking. Second Hand News, and a new song Steve wrote for Robin to sing, called Say You Love Me. You and Eddie wrote a sweet duet titled Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around, an angsty love song that you knew would get crowds riled up as you sang it to each other. Monday Morning, I’m so Afraid, and Landslide would join the rest, the latter being written by you after having a sentimental late night talk with Robin, thinking about change and how scary growing up can be, much inspired by your recent lifestyle change, of course. Everywhere was the last song added to the track list, ultimately pushing some others off the table for the time being. You and Robin wrote Everywhere together, very much with your respective partners in mind, the lyric ‘I wanna be with you everywhere’ serving as an ode to your devotion to travel anywhere work takes you with Eddie, and Nancy’s willingness to follow Robin.

Eddie’s favorite nights were the ones where you and him stayed up practicing your songs, trying to record the perfect take even if it meant being in the studio till four in the morning. You’d share cheap wine and get high, roaming hands and stolen kisses on exposed skin eventually leading the two of you to get in the bus and go home, stumbling into bed and immersing yourselves in one another. One particular night found you bent over the arm of the couch in the studio, Eddie’s fingers sinking into the skin of your hips as he drove into you from behind. He was so eager to have you he couldn’t even wait until he got you home. He had you right where he wanted you, listening to your pretty noises as he watched his cock sink into you.

“Mmph, Eddie, what if someone comes in here?” you ask, voice staggered as your body lurched with every thrust he gave you.

“It’s late at night, baby, no one’s gonna walk in. Everyone else is probably out at the bars,” he reassures you, leaning down to press kisses up your spine. “Love having you like this, little dove, pussy’s so greedy for me.”

You babble incoherently for him as he works you to climax, pulling out of you after he’d filled you with his spend. You redressed your bottom half, adjusting your skirt as you sat down on the worn fabric of the couch, Eddie’s cum dripping down onto it.

“Christ, babe, I’m gonna get hard every time we walk in here now,” Eddie murmured, stealing a kiss from you as you tried to get back to work.

You ended up writing a song that night, inspiration striking you randomly. You titled it Leather and Lace, a love song very much inspired by the man that had you head over heels for him. You sang it to Eddie softly in the dim light of your bedroom after arriving back home that night, and he ended up adding another verse, making it into a duet. And for now, it stayed just between the two of you, a private declaration of the love between both of you.

When you guys weren’t in the studio or busy with other band tasks, you were indulging in the California night scene, going to bars and dancing at clubs. You’d often drink till the room was spinning and your skin was tingling, laughing with Eddie at every little thing, just to barely remember the evening’s events the following morning.

Come September, your label was pushing to release a second single, leaving it up to the five of you to decide which song you wanted to push through. You knew that everyone else wanted Rhiannon as the next single, but you were admittedly nervous to put the song out into the world as a stand-alone. That song is one you regarded as being your baby, and so you sit chewing on your fingernails as the rest of your band tries to persuade you that this is the song.

“Come on, Dove. It’s a great song, and you know it,” Gareth says, sitting across from you with his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to try and level with you.

“The world needs to hear that beautiful voice of yours before this album comes out,” Robin chimes in. “What’re you afraid of, love?”

“I just- I love this song,” you say. “And I know that the whole ‘being famous’ thing is going to invite criticism, and negative opinions, and all of it. But I just don’t know if I’m ready to deal with hearing slander for this song if people don’t end up liking it,” you lean into Eddie who’s sat beside you, his big hand rubbing your arm reassuringly.

“They’re gonna love it, baby, because you’re phenomenal in everything you do,” he encourages. “You know I’ve been saying since the day you wrote it that I just have a feeling this song will be pivotal for us,” and the rest of the group nods in agreement.

You ponder this, chewing your lip and picking at the frayed edges of your denim shorts.

“Fine. Rhiannon it is.”

It turns out that Eddie was right, and Rhiannon performed insanely well, coming out at #10 on the charts. People at your gigs on The Strip had heard this song performed, and had clearly been eagerly awaiting its hopeful release. Naturally, Eddie wouldn’t let you live it down. You’re sitting in the kitchen a few days after the song’s release, eating breakfast when Eddie comes barreling in. He immediately turns on the radio with clumsy fingers as he pops a piece of bread into the toaster. Sure enough, Rhiannon was playing on the station, and Eddie starts singing along.

“Gee, I wonder who sings this song?” he asks around a mouthful of banana.

You look over at him and roll your eyes, chuckling at how he’s dancing across the floor.

“Man, I sure would love to be the guy who gets to sleep next to her every night, she’s got the voice of an angel,” he swoons dramatically, making you laugh even further when he accidentally drops his banana.

“Whoops,” he shrugs, taking his toast out of the toaster and applying an obscene amount of chunky peanut butter on it, before sitting across from you at the table.

He grabs your hand as the song finishes, squeezing it as if to say ‘I’m so proud of you’. You couldn’t help but smile. He’s always been your number one supporter, it’s no surprise he’s acting this way now.

The song was big then and it only got bigger, people couldn’t get enough. In the coming weeks it was played even more frequently and in even more places than Don’t Stop had been. People started recognizing the band out in public, specifically you and Eddie, and you got to sign your first autographs to some giddy girls who stopped you outside of a record shop.

To say the months after that were a blur is an understatement, the five of you being whipped into newfound fame faster than you could comprehend. Your album, simply titled with your band name, was released in November. It was performing extremely well, Rhiannon really being the catalyst that made people excited to hear more from you. Talks of tour were near constant, deciding on dates, cities, the setlist. It was set to begin in March, rehearsals set to start in January. Ultimately, you all decided it made the most sense to play the entire album on tour, given that it was only ten songs. You’d throw in a few covers for good measure, ones that really showcased the flare you guys could bring to music.

The world was loving The Rumors, and you guys were absolutely enjoying the fame. It seemed as though everywhere you went now, somebody wanted your autograph, or simply came up to say they love the record. The five of you adjusted to your new lives slowly yet rather confidently, letting your hard work be praised by the masses. It felt good to finally be more than a band playing bars with a crowd of ten drunk patrons, and you’d tell that to any interviewer who would listen. As exciting as it all was, you were looking forward to having a little bit of a break before the chaos of tour and rehearsals would begin. Scott had told you guys to take a couple of weeks off for the holidays, insisting that you all absolutely deserved to relax. The band would pick back up in the new year, but for now, you could spend some time laying low.

December 20th, 1972. Hawkins, Indiana.

You and Eddie had flown back home to Hawkins to celebrate Christmas. You were eager to snuggle into the coziness of home, enjoy the snow and the colorful lights and the nostalgia of the season. Steve and Gareth had stayed in California, Steve not really having a reason to come home what with his parents always being gone, and Gareth having invited his family out to the West Coast for a warm and sunny holiday. Robin and Nancy were coming back to Hawkins as well, but a couple days after your and Eddie’s arrival. You step out of the rental car Eddie had snagged for your time at home, the cold chill of the air whipping your face. You wrap your coat tighter around your frame, realizing just how accustomed you’d grown to the warm and sunny California weather. Eddie walks around to the back of the car, his thick jacket lined with Sherpa keeping him insulated as he grabs your suitcases from the trunk. His nose is red from the chill of the air as he quickly walks the suitcases up to the front door of your family home, where your parents and Wayne should be waiting on your arrival. The front door opens before you can even grab the doorknob, your dad welcoming you into the warmth of your home.

“There’s our favorite rockstars!” he jokes, making you roll your eyes as you hug him in greeting.

Your mom rushes to the door, pulling you into a hug and then Eddie after the suitcases are handed off to your dad. Wayne gives you one of his signature tight hugs and a kiss on the side of your head, just like he always used to, before pulling Eddie into a bear hug that seems to last minutes. You head up to your old room once the greetings are over, and you find yourself overwhelmed with nostalgia. You hadn’t even been in California a year, and yet coming home felt like something you’d hadn’t done in decades. You squeeze the teddy bear that sits on your bed, your childhood friend that you’d ultimately decided to leave here during the move. You inhale the scent of home within the bear, your body feeling warm and you can’t help but smile.

“You okay, Dove?” Eddie asks, stepping into your room and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Yeah. Just happy to be home,” you smile, tilting your head back to look up at him.

He gives you an understanding smile back. It’s good to be home.

Not much has changed in the sleepy town of Hawkins, other than the fact that posters of your band are plastered just about everywhere. Your town has always had your back, so it’s no surprise they’re proudly showing off and saying ‘Hey, look! We’re that town where The Rumors are from!’. You even run into some girls from high school, begging for autographs from you and Eddie. Eddie doesn’t even give them the time of day before he’s pulling you away just as you’d uncapped your marker, mumbling something about ‘they hated me in high school, what do they deserve an autograph for?’.

The holidays come and go quite quickly, Christmas being spent wrapped in Eddie’s arms in cozy matching sweaters, singing carols for family while Eddie played his acoustic. The new year rolled in with Eddie pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, the taste of sweet wine on his tongue, and whispered promises of making this year a fantastic one. Being back at home made you feel comfortably small again, a stark contrast to the ever growing spotlight that’s been placed on you in California. Of course, you’re over the moon to be getting such success, but being surrounded with family in your childhood home brings you a different kind of peace. You’re inevitably teary when it comes time for you and Eddie to fly back to LA, hugging your parents and Wayne goodbye, sniffling into a tissue. You hold Eddie’s hand almost the entire flight back, letting him reassure you in the way his thumb rubs over your hand. Getting back to Cali meant you’d be hitting the ground running, a short couple of months until tour was set to start. If only you’d known that this would be the calm before the storm.

taglist: @hargrovesswifee @lofaewrites @tiannamortis @munson-blurbs @manda-panda-monium

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #gareth emerson #silver springs 🖤🕊️

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foxgloveprincess · 4 days

Text

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: Dr. Rogers has a problem.

Word Count: 1,308

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark (Soft Dark), Bets/Wagers, Medical Themes, Smut (implied Masturbation, Video Recording with Dubious Consent, Fingering, Squirting), Infatuation, Obssessive Behavior, Possessiveness, Yandere Vibes. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: While he’s happy to make house calls, Dr. Rogers works mainly in his clinic. Like Breakable Girls, this is a side story for A.W.A. that I wanted to peek into and I can’t guarantee any more parts. But Enjoy!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

This is unBeta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

“Good morning Dr. Rogers,” follows him down the hallway to his office. Sweet, sincere. The new receptionist not too distracted by work to greet him with a smile. The most adorable thing he’d ever seen. By the time the door locks behind him, he’s hard as steel and aching for relief. Just the thought of his new girl laid out on his exam table enough to take him right to the edge.

He grumbles to himself and sits at his desk, grabbing a towel and some lotion from the bottom drawer and taking care of business.

An hour of paperwork later, a soft knock interrupts the quiet.

“Dr. Rogers, Mrs. Carter is ready for you.”

That voice. Again. His cock twitches and he has to direct his mind back to the matter at hand. Zipping himself up, he stands and opens the door to find you. So innocent and kind. The ways he could ruin you.

“I sent her file to the computer,” you say, oblivious to what your voice does to him. “And I had her strip under her gown, so there shouldn’t be anything obstructing the exam, just like you asked.”

“Thank you,” he replies, compelled to reach out a brush his fingers over your shoulder. At your questioning look, he merely says, “lint,” before turning toward exam room 4.

Mrs. Carter waits for him on his exam table. She grips the bottom of her gown in tight fists, ready at a moment’s notice to hitch it up to her waist. But her expression remains cool and collected, almost aloof. He swallows a sigh.

You wouldn’t act like that. Not for him.

“Mrs. Carter,” he greets, tossing his white coat aside and sitting on the rolling stool, “it says you’re here for a pelvic exam.” His sleeves roll up his forearms, her eyes lock on each inch of revealed skin. “Have you noticed anything different or out of the ordinary?”

“Yes, doctor,” she purrs. Mrs. Carter leans her body back and spreads her legs, ready for the stirrups, eager. “I’ve noticed some tingling that I can’t quite explain and some discharge.”

Steve hums, lip pressing together to suppress a frustrated sigh. Such an inane dialogue, one repeated for every yearly check up and ever monthly ‘emergency’. A dialogue indicating she’s all ready for him. Under his control. Trusting him to do whatever he wants. So he does.

Feet in the stirrups. Gloves snapping onto his hands. Lube uncapped and dripping. Set before his subject. He begins his work. Prying her apart with the speculum to take his samples. Listening for the gasping hitch in her breath as the tool opens. He craves it. To know their pain. To soothe them after.

His thoughts drift to you. How would he play with you? Break down your walls until you crumble. Build you back up. Would he even need to? A girl as sweet and soft as you? Maybe you’d melt for him.

“Doctor?” Mrs. Carter gasps, nails digging into the flimsy medical paper covering her seat. High pitched and whining, close to her release.

You distracted him. He can’t have that. His attention turns back to the labia before him. Plump and sensitive. His fingers poking and prodding her vaginal canal until he finds the Gräfenberg spot. Her whole body tenses, her breath hitches. He curls his fingers against that slightly spongy texture inside, hoping to further his research. His chin tilts to the camera and he nods, an indication for later. A timestamp. To document his findings in this appointment.

It doesn’t take long. The muscle contracting and her body straining. The stimulation prompting female ejaculation. It spray out and coats his shirt. From the nearby table, he grabs his specimen cup, catching as much as he can to study. He must be thorough.

Mrs. Carter’s chest heaves with her breath. Deep lungfuls trying to revive her sense of reality. Her legs twitch. He makes a mental note. Like previous appointments, her labia minora pulses with her heartbeat. He’s pleased with the consistency.

His thoughts drift back to you. Would you fit his standards? No—you’d exceed them. The perfect subject to test and analyze. He could spend hours with you. Documenting each reaction, each sensation. Finally find the answers to all his hypotheses.

The gloves rip when he pulls them off his hands. Mrs. Carter tilts her head up, a question in her eyes.

“Are-are we done already?”

“I’ve taken all I need,” he replies, curt and a little too gruff.

She recoils, nodding and pulling her legs from the stirrups. Clutching the gown closed, she shifts, the paper sticking to the wetness on her upper thighs. She doesn’t meet his eye.

“Once you’re redressed, you may go. You know the way out.”

Steve turns and exits the room. Steps sharp in the hallway. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—complete their usual appointment. You filled his thoughts too full. His body unresponsive to the usual stimuli. He didn’t even experience the slightest tumescence with Mrs. Carter. Unacceptable.

He stops short, almost to his office. You’re there, leaning against the wall, his colleague by your side. Chatting, merry. A deep, possessive instinct sparks to life. Wanting to grab you, snatch and bundle you away from all prying eyes. He tamps it down with the thin, fraying threads of logic left to him.

And like a magnet finding its mate, your gaze turns to notice him.

“Dr. Rogers,” you greet, smile sunny and bright. “Dr. Kemp was just telling me about your research.”

“Was he?” He turns to his colleague, a suspicious furrow to his brow.

“I didn’t think you’d be done with your appointment yet. Mrs. Carter give you the results you need?” Steve Kemp asks, brow cocked in a smarmy sort of gibe.

“Everything went according to plan.”

Kemp hums, smile breaking over his features. “Always the man with the plan.”

You shift on your feet and pipe up, “Well, I should go back to man the front desk. Just in case someone’s early for an appointment or the phone rings.” You duck out of the hallway toward the waiting room.

The door to room 4 slams, heels clicking brisk and clear toward the exit.

“Doesn’t sound too happy to me,” Kemp chuckles. His hands shove in his pockets, hips thrusting forward subtly. “Able to give her the full treatment?”

“No.” The growl in Steve’s voice grates against his throat, an aftertaste of frustration lingers on his tongue. “I was distracted.”

Kemp puffs out a lengthy breath of air. “I know what you mean. What were we thinking, hiring a sweetheart like her?”

“We were thinking she was qualified and interviewed well over the phone.”

“Well, I’m having a hard time keeping it in my pants,” Kemp confesses before nodding toward Roger’s trousers. “Looks like you, too.”

Rogers adjusts himself and grunts.

“I mean,” Kemp continues, a taunting jab lacing his words, “I guess that doesn’t matter as long as we do our jobs.”

“I can do my job,” Rogers snaps, glare fierce toward his colleague and long-time friend. “I have it under control.”

“If you say so,” Kemp challenges. He steps away from the wall, hand extending from his pocket to shake. “How about a little wager, then? One month and the most orgasms gets her first.”

Rogers contemplates a moment, already knowing he’ll take the bet. Of course he will. “Just the patients,” he asks, “or do others count?”

Kemp’s fingers flex, folding toward a fist as he thinks. His head tilts. “It has to be documented,” he finally says, clicking his teeth, “and it should be in the clinic only. To make it fair. And we are allowed to try to win her over for ourselves first. Whoever does it quickest gets bonus points.”

Rogers shoves his hand in Kemp’s without another thought.

“Deal.”

#steve rogers x reader #dark #dark fic #smut #yandere vibes #dub con #tw dub con #attic wives anonymous #18+#minors dni

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