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hairmetal666 · 4 months

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Steve has a problem. Not a big problem--not an Upside Down-sized problem--but still. A problem. In the form of Eddie Munson. And not the person Eddie Munson, who is second only to Robin in the hierarchy of Steve's heart, but his feelings in regard to one Eddie Munson. Namely, his enormous, devastating, gay crush on the guy.

And he knows, okay, he knows Eddie is gay, but that doesn't mean he wants Steve. Eddie is probably into other metalheads or dnd nerds. What could Steve, with his sports and his polo shirts, possibly have to offer?

He's coping, though. Or, at least, he thought he was until the Family Video phone rings and Jonathan invites them to the New Year's Eve party he and Argyle are throwing at their new apartment.

"We have to make a no-date pact." He tells Robin as soon as the phone is back in the cradle.

"Or you could just ask Eddie."

"You could just ask Nancy." He raises an eyebrow.

She lets out a slow breath. "Yeah, okay. No-date pact. I'm down."

It's just as easy to get Nancy and Eddie on board. Nancy just laughs and says "yeah, like I'd bring a date to the party my ex-boyfriend is hosting with his new boyfriend. How you do you even start to explain that dynamic?"

And Eddie snorts right in Steve's face (it's not cute, it's not), says, "Right, cause my dating pool in Hawkins, Indiana is just ripe with guys who want to ring in the New Year with me."

Steve wants to say that he would be that guy, happily, giddily, but he can't risk blowing up his second most important friendship like that, not when Eddie's never given a fraction of a hint that he wants Steve too.

But that's his problem solved, right? The four of them aren't bringing dates. Easy-peasy.

Unfortunately, Steve's life hasn't ever worked out like that, and the party turns out to not be only their little end of the world crew and a handful of people Jon knows from his grocery store job, but an actual motherfucking party.

It takes almost ten minutes for him and Robin to navigate through the sea of strangers to find Jon and Argyle handing out solo cups in the kitchen.

"Who are all these people?" He shouts over the pounding music, nothing like Steve's ever heard.

"Argyle got a job at the record store down the street," Jon yells.

"Co-workers." Argyle nods. "And a few of their friends."

"A few, right."

"The more the merrier. Right, my dude?"

"Sure." Steve takes a cup. "You seen Eddie around?"

"Living room, last time I looked." Jonathan answers.

"See you around?" Robin asks.

"At least meet up for the ball drop," Argyle answers.

They push their way into the cramped living room, and Steve searches for that familiar cloud of hair, the ripped black jeans. It takes a minute just for the sheer amount of bodies pressed into the small space, and when he sees him Eddie's--

He's standing against a wall, next to the stereo (of course), but there's someone with him. Someone who is tall and leanly muscled in a way that Steve isn't. Someone with long hair pushed back from his forehead. Someone with facial piercings in places Steve didn't even know you could pierce and tattoos and a chain hanging from his worn blue jeans and a bandana in his back pocket, just like Eddie.

And Eddie he's--he's gazing up at this dude with clear stars in his brown doe eyes, body angling towards the other man like he can't help but push more into his orbit.

Steve turns hard, Robin colliding with his side. "Steve, what the--oh."

"I hate New Year's Eve," Steve sighs, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It's always been the kind of holiday that is high on expectation and low on follow-through.

"C'mon, I think I spotted Nance over by the bedroom."

He lets Robin guide him across the room, steadfastly not looking back at where Eddie is very obviously finding himself a date. It's okay, Steve reasons. It's okay because that was obviously the kind of guy Eddie would be into it. He knew he had, like, no chance. He shouldn't be disappointed. He shouldn't.

The evening slips away in the shove of people, in the solo cup that manages to always be full in his hand, and he tries as hard as he can to ignore the way Robin and Nancy start sharing the same space.

So much for the no-date pact. He would laugh if a sort of deep loneliness wasn't seeping into his bones.

There's a girl, though, across the room. She's in a short dress and glances at Steve from under hooded eyelids. He could make a move; could have someone to kiss at midnight; have someone just for the night. But then--his heart makes a pathetic patter--Eddie.

Eddie who is practically in that stranger's lap.

He goes out for a cigarette.

When he comes back inside, it's five minutes til midnight and Nancy and Robin are dancing slow and sweet to a song that is neither.

He's happy for them, almost incandescent with it, but the loneliness sinks deeper, reaches marrow, especially after he fails to find Eddie in the crowd.

Steve thinks it might be time to give the whole failed endeavor up for good, but Jonathan and Argyle, both in tiny 1987 novelty top hats, appear at his side.

"Stevie-boy!" Argyle bellows. He lifts Steve at the waist, twirling him, and Steve laughs despite himself.

"Keeping busy?" He asks.

Jonathan pounds him on the back, just a little too hard.

A guest yells from deep in the apartment, "one minute to midnight!" and the music turns off, the TV tuned to Dick Clark and turned up.

Nancy and Robin find their way over, Robin mouthing "sorry," on her way. He pulls her into a side-hug; he'll never begrudge her any happiness, even on his worst day.

From across the room, there's a crash, a short yelp, and then a familiar head of fuzzy brown curls makes its way to them.

"Sorry, sorry." Eddie apologizes as he shoves through the other guests.

"Hi, guys!" He beams at them, cheeks flushed. Steve looks away so he doesn't have to think about how beautiful Eddie is; about how he's not the one who made him blush so pretty.

The countdown on the screen reaches 30 seconds, and the party goers start chanting.

"What happened to--?" Steve can't help but asking.

"Psh, that dude? He's a punk. Plus, I couldn't imagine ringing in 1987 without you guys by my side."

Steve blushes and rolls his eyes. "Sap." He knocks his hip into Eddie's.

"You love it," Eddie wraps him in a loose hold.

The count is down to 10, the ball almost dropped, Jonathan and Argyle and Nancy and Robin making soft eyes at each other.

"What's going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?" Eddie knocks his head gently against Steve's.

"It's nothing."

"You're pouting." Eddie mimics him with a poked out lip.

The count is down to 5.

"Fuck, I just--I wanted to have someone to kiss at midnight, you know?"

The ball drops, the year changes over, the room cheers. His coupled up friends cling to each other in soft, joyous kisses.

Eddie's eyes flick to their friends, to the guests, all kissing and embracing and celebrating, then back to Steve.

With two careful fingers, Eddie lifts Steve's chin, makes it so he can't look away.

"Fuck it," Eddie says. He leans forward, kisses Steve with soft authority.

And Steve just--he just fucking--crumbles into it. He makes a soft noise, curls his fists into Eddie's t-shirt.

Eddie's hands work their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Steve goes eagerly, crushes their bodies together.

They kiss and they kiss, and it's already so far from a friendly New Year's kiss, but then Eddie's tongue swipes into Steve's mouth, and the kiss breaks.

"Um," Eddie says.

Steve can't respond because all his focus is on not giving into the weakness in his knees and collapsing to the floor.

"I've wanted you to do that all night," Steve says.

"Oh." Eddie's face blossoms into a slow smile. "Me too. A lot longer than that, actually."

It's Steve's turn to smile, and he does, so hard it hurts his cheeks. "Me too."

Eddie presses their foreheads together. "Happy New Year, Stevie."

Someone starts singing Auld Lang Syne loudly and off-key, but they're quickly drowned out by a chorus of accompanying voices.

"Happy New Year, Ed."

Steve pulls him in for another kiss. 1987 is already shaping up to be the best year of his life.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #new years eve #spicy six #ficlet #angst #fluff #mutual pining #angst with a happy ending #first kiss #nye party #ronance #jargyle #this is very loosely based on the nye episode of friends where joey kisses chandler #hold on to the memories they will hold on to you

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bleedingoptimism · 3 months

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As Steve walks into the grocery store he pulls his sunglasses off, only to put them back on again immediately. The lights of the store make the back of his eyes sting. Hungover from a bad headache, not that people here would care why. Whatever, is not like everyone already doesn’t think he’s an asshole. He doesn’t need to perform for anyone anymore.

A guy, singing to himself down one of the aisles peaks his attention, he’s tall and has long black hair and Steve belatedly remembers that he’s Jon’s friend from California.

“Argyle?” he asks, more to himself than to him, but Argyle turns and smiles at him as if they are old friends. He approaches and grabs his shoulder, shaking him a little.

“Oh! Hi Stevie!”

The confidence and attitude he carries himself with make Steve smile for some reason. It’s like he’s very sure of himself but in a nice way, not in a douchey way, like his high school buddies were. Although hearing someone call him “Stevie” reminds him of Tommy and a very different time and he can’t help but shrink inwards a little, “Oh no please, just Steve,” he says with an apologetic smile, pulling his sunglasses off again and placing them on his head. And because he doesn’t want Argyle to think he’s the douchebag, he explains further, “‘Stevie’ brings back bad memories,”

Argyle leans his head to the side with a pout but then smiles and squeezes Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, it’s fine, we can just make new ones, man! Better ones.”

Steve’s first reaction is to scoff. As if it were that easy… but then he thinks, hell, maybe it is. Maybe it is and it makes him smile. Argyle is way too outgoing for it to be comfortable for other people, it’s kind of ridiculous. For a second, he wonders if Jonathan found it jarring when he first met him. But Steve finds it refreshing. He shakes his head and smiles,

“So what were you looking for? Maybe I can help?” he offers.

Argyle turns in a circle, letting go of Steve’s shoulder and opening his arms wide, like he’s presenting the store to Steve, “See man, I'm mentally preparing myself for the munchies. I kind of wanted to make a pizza but like sweet? You get me?”

“Like a pie?” Steve chuckles.

“That! Sounds delicious, dude! But I don’t know how to make a pie,” Argyle laments, and Steve has no idea what possesses him to say,

“I do. You want help?”

Argyle stills his whole body and then shakes it before he starts snapping his fingers rapidly, startling Steve.

“Ok! Ok ok ok ok ok! Are you busy right now, man?”

“Just need to buy my groceries…” Steve says unable to keep the bewilderment off his expression.

“I’ll help you with that, we’ll buy things for the pie and then you invite me over, how’s that my dude?” Argyle says, no preambles, “I have a doobie and a lot of questions about all the shit that went down” he adds moving his eyebrows up and down quickly.

“What about Jon?” Steve can’t help but ask.

“Ah man, Jonny is with Nancy right now. Those two love birds had a lot to talk about, so I figured I’d make myself scarce.” Argyle answers, nodding apprehensively at his own statement.

Steve finds himself nodding along before saying, “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it!”

“Hell yeah, Stevie!” Argyle exclaims throwing his arms up and this time, Steve doesn’t cringe at the nickname.

After that, Argyle follows Steve through the store, helping him put things in the cart, making a few comments about differences in products or prices from California, but mostly staying out of the way and humming to himself. Steve asks him what he wants the pie to be (strawberries and chocolate) so he gets the ingredients for that too and then they are off.

When they get to his place, Steve tells him to get comfortable while he puts stuff away but Argyle helps him out before sitting on a tall stool in the kitchen and watching as Steve gets all the ingredients for the pie laid out.

“You know dude, you’re kind of exactly how I imagined you’d be,” Argyle tells him, gifting him another one of his smiles.

“Really?” Steve asks surprised.

“Jon told me all about you, man,” he answers nodding.

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, “And you still want to hang out with me?” he asks, half judgy, half defensive.

“Of course! Because you know what I got from it, dog?” Argyle asks and Steve just stares at him, afraid to know the answer.

“That you are a good person, Stevie! So you got off to a rocky start dude, so what? I think that makes you all the more interesting.”

Steve purses his lips in an attempt not to smile and raises an eyebrow.

“You went to hell and beyond for someone you didn’t even like! You’ve paid your dues and a half for whatever shit you did when you were younger and it could’ve made you bitter or closed off, man! But it didn’t. Not even the tiniest little bit. You barely know me and you invited me over and offered to bake pie for me, dude!”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “You got all that from what Jon told you? Also you invited yourself over,” he jokes.

Argyle laughs and then just shrugs, choosing to ignore Steve’s question about Jon.

He lets it go, and Argyle lights up the joint while he starts making the pie. After they both get a few hits, Argyle starts asking him about everything. ‘Start from the beginning’ he says.

Steve starts off a little stiff but gets looser with the weed and Argyle's presence and ends up telling him practically everything. Argyle asks a few questions every once in a while, sometimes about the process of making the pie. Sometimes some really intense shit like ‘and how did that make you feel?’, ‘did you think you were going to die?’ ‘were you scared?’.

Steve answers everything honestly, and it feels incredibly cathartic. His favorite questions are the ones about the pie though, and he smiles the biggest when Argyle says next time he’ll make one for him.

In turn, Steve asks him how he met Jon and chuckles when Argyle confirms his thoughts and tells him Jon didn’t like Argyle one bit at first.

“He said I was too happy. He didn’t trust it. Dude couldn’t trust anyone that hadn’t gone through some kind of shit in their lives” Argyle laughs, “But I can thaw even the coldest of hearts, man! As we got to know each other, he realized that I did have my own shit going on, but that happiness was a choice for me. Is who I had chosen to be.”

They talk about that too, how it wasn’t an easy choice. How some days it’s harder than others, to keep at it. How all the Upside Down shit affected him too.

By the time the pie is done and the joint is gone, Steve feels incredibly close to Argyle. Like they’ve been friends forever.

“So that’s pretty much it,” he says with a sigh after finishing a rant about why he doesn’t keep in touch with his high school buddies because Argyle had asked about them.

“Dude, you’ve been through so much,” he says solemnly.

“Yeah, you know that’s…. Life…” Steve says, shrugging. He doesn't know exactly what to say, suddenly feeling very awkward at being seen.

“Nah, Stevie. Me being kicked out of my house as soon as I was old enough to get a job ‘cause my parents couldn’t afford to keep feeding me and my younger siblings…. That’s life.” Argyle says seriously and quickly dismisses Steve's worried face adding, “It’s ok dude, they were great parents, they raised me well and I still go visit every other weekend” And then sighs and looks sternly at Steve again,

“Like I said, that’s life. What you’ve been through? Was hell”

“The kids had it worse- Ell-” Steve starts but Argyle interrupts him.

“That doesn’t erase what you've been through, Steve. It doesn’t make it less of a nightmare, man.” Steve just looks at Argyle as what he’s saying sinks in.

“And you got through it, dude. You came out the other side even a better person than when it started and like- you saved lives! You saved my best friend's life and like- like- you should be proud of yourself Stevie. I’m proud of you, man” he finishes with a carefree smile. As if he hadn’t just rocked the ground Steve was standing on. And he doesn't know if it’s the weed, or Argyle’s words, or both but Steve closes the distance between them and hugs him.

“Oh, hey! Hugs! I love hugs!” Argyle laughs, and hugs him back, taking it all in stride.

“Sorry,” Steve sniffles embarrassed, “I didn’t know I needed to hear that till you said it,” he croaks.

“Nah, it’s good. I got you” Argyle responds, patting his back lightly.

The hug is wonderful, friendly, warm, and just the right length but when he’s stepping away from Argyle, he hears a wary sound from the kitchen door.

“Uhm…hi”

It’s Eddie. Pocker-faced and cautious and Steve knows him well enough to know he’s freaking out inside.

“Oh, hi! Eddie! Good to see you, dude!” Argyle says good naturally and completely out of the loop. Steve smiles at him too and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand to dry them off a bit.

Whatever Eddie was thinking goes out the window when he looks closely at Steve and walks towards him, leaning closer to look him in the eye, “You okay?” he asks concerned.

Steve nods and Argyle clears his throat, “I’m going to… set the table for three,” he says, so maybe, not as out of the loop as Steve first thought.

Eddie completely ignores Argyle and grabs Steve’s face, his thumb caressing the underside of his eye, “You really ok?” he asks again and Steve chuckles,

“Yeah,” he answers with a smile.

Eddie hums and then looks back towards where Argyle is opening and closing cabinets in the dining room, looking for plates, “So… Should I be jealous?” he asks and Steve snorts amused,

“Of course not,” he says.

“You sure? ‘Cause maybe your type wasn’t curls and big eyes, maybe it was long hair and weed all along,” Eddie presses and Steve can tell he’s trying to make a joke out of it but is actually asking for real and Steve gets frankly, really annoyed.

“You know what? Maybe you should be jealous. Argy would never accuse me like that,” Inwardly he cringes at the nickname but it gets the point across. Eddie’s face falls and he looks devastated and terrified for a second before Steve smirks bitchily at him and then Eddie is frowning.

“Asshole” he murmurs, despite still holding Steve’s face as if it were precious and fragile.

Steve steps closer, placing his hands on Eddie’s waist, “You started it” he says as an apology. Kind of.

Eddie huffs and moves his hands to Steve shoulder’s, one thumb pressed to his pulse, “I regret it”

Steve hums, “Just for the record? A little possessiveness is kind of hot,” he says and pecks the tip of Eddie’s nose, “You questioning my feelings for you? Is not.” and then flicks it.

“Dully noted,” Eddie nods.

Steve looks him in the eye as he leans closer, kisses him fully in the mouth firmly, eyes open the whole time, and then whispers “Good boy,” before he steps away.

He smirks again seeing the full-body effect his little stunt has on Eddie. The way his eyelids fall, his mouth opens, the goosebumps on his arm hair, and the shiver that runs through his spine. He takes a moment to take it all in before he smiles, less predatory and more friendly. Eddie smiles back, and shakes his head amused, like he can't believe Steve is real. He does that a lot.

Steve then takes Eddie’s hand on his own and kisses his knuckles before moving past him and dragging him to the dining room with him,

“Now c’mon. Let’s go eat pie with my new friend”

e͟n͟d͟

a coffee? a doobie? ☕🥐💕

#stranger things #argyle #steve #friendship #and a little #steddie #on the side #because i cant help myself #i wrote something

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french-goodbye · 8 months

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please never fall in love again

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: dating steve harrington is hard, especially when girls keep hitting on him.

notes: i wrote this a while ago but eventually forgot about it in the midst of all my wips lol. title from the song please never fall in love again by ollie mn.

you stare at the back of your boyfriend's head with narrowed eyes and your chin resting on your hands, an anger you know you shouldn't be feeling boiling beneath the surface of your skin. he, of course is none the wiser, as he is to most things, just chatting with eddie completely carefree by the bar.

you love steve harrigton, you really do. you think you fell in love with him on your first date and never really fell out of it. you've already planned your whole life with him, from getting married and having kids to growing old with him and sitting side by side on a wrap around porch. he's sweet, kind, he's great with kids and it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes and great in bed.

his biggest flaw, however, is not exactly his fault. the worst thing about dating steve harrigton is the amount of women who hit on him on a daily basis. whether it's old ladies at the grocery store telling him he looks like their dead husbands or bored soccer moms looking for a little thrill or, the worst of all, the girls your age who slip him their phone number in old receipts over the counter at family video. these women are always there, like blood sniffing sharks, somehow finding a way to make a suggestive comment or a flirty joke.

most of the time, it doesn't really bother you even when it does happen in front of you. steve's the kind of guy who'd never cheat on you, simply because of who he is and how obsessed with you he is. sometimes, however, they can get a little too close and personal and you can't help but wish steve was a little less attractive. just a little.

and it's not that you don't trust him either, he's always quick and firm to shut them down when it happens. it's that they're the ones you don't trust, the girls with big permed blonde hair and fake tans and bright pink lipstick who look at you disdainfully when they realize you're together because they can barely take their eyes off of him for long enough to notice you're standing right next to him.

you're out at a bar celebrating jonathan's birthday when it happens this time, steve and eddie having offered to get everyone another round, the two of them leaning against the bar talking while they wait when a girl from the booth in the corner approaches them. she's clearly a little bit more than tipsy and obviously focused on steve as she talks to them, avidly taking him in and resting her hand on his forearm. he doesn't even blink, just smoothly leans away from her and tells her something that makes her leave as fast as she arrived.

you can barely hear nancy as she complains about her male coworkers on her summer job, as you heatedly stare at his stupidly nice hair and broad shoulders as your boyfriend laughs at something eddie said, hand scratching his neck. you're still watching him with scrunched eyebrows and a sour expression when you feel robin poking your cheek, making you look at her and gently slap her hand away.

"why are you poking me?"

"why are you staring at steve like he kicked your puppy?" she asks, frowning, looking back and forth between the two of you like a tennis match.

"i'm not" she gives you a flat look with raised brows. "fine," you huff. "why do women always hit on him? we can't take him anywhere"

"no idea, you tell me"

"urgh" you groan, throwing your arms around her and resting your head on her shoulder. "god, i hate men"

"amen sister" you hang onto her for a second as she takes a noisy sip of her empty drink through her straw and taps your back sympathetically a few times before gently pushing you away as steve and eddie walk back to your table, drinks in hands and still chatting distractedly.

she softly claps her hands, enthusiastically and telling you a quiet "yay" as she turns back to nancy and jonathan, as the two argue wether or not their coworkers are sexist (they totally are).

you're still laughing at robin's drunken antics when steve comes to your side again and sets your new drink on the table in front of you, resting his hand on your lower back. you let him but when he leans over you to press a kiss to your hair, you promptly dodge away from him and out of his reach. from the corner of your eye, you can see how he frowns at that and silently watches you for a second as you pretend to listen to what nancy says.

his hand on your lower back climbs all the way up to the back of your neck so he turn your head his away, forcing you to look at his big brown eyes staring at you like you just kicked his puppy and you almost feel guilty. almost.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

you shrug, "nothing's wrong."

"are you mad at me or something?"

"no" you slowly shake your head in negative, shrugging.

"gimme a kiss then" he rests one of his hands on your face tilting your head his way while the other on your neck guides your face to his. you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek and look away, accidentally making eye contact with the girl who just hit on him. she's watching the two of you, quickly looking away when she notices she was caught staring.

"you saw that, huh" he tells you, hands settling on your waist instead so he can look at you.

"hard not to" you huff, picking invisible lint from your pants.

"then you know nothing happened"

"of course i know that, i trust you" you complain as you roll your eyes and gesticulate to show your frustration "but i-it just makes so insanely angry when they touch you like that, like they have any right to-" you stop your ranting mid sentence when you realize the look on his face. "what? why are you looking at me like that?"

"nothing" he clears his throat and looks down to uselessly smooth non existing wrinkles on your top. you watch him though narrowed eyes and gasp when it hits you, making him look at you again. "what?"

"you like it when i'm jealous" you accuse, lightly poking his chest.

"no, i don't"

"yes, you do. i can't believe i never noticed it before" you huff an incredulous laugh, remembering all the times girls hit on him in front of you and he said nothing but affirmations of how much he's in love with you and how he could never want somebody else, acting more attentive and affectionate than usual later, pressing you against his body and kissing kissing kissing you until he was the only thing on your mind.

"okay, it's not what you're thinking" he replies running a hand through his hair nervously.

"what am i thinking, harrington?" you ask, lifting one eyebrow as a smirk makes it's way to your lips.

"it's not an ego thing" you laugh softly at him, letting your fingers run soothingly through the hair at the nape of his neck, finally giving into the temptation to get your hands on him. "it's just- i like knowing how much you want me just for yourself, how much you care about me."

you stare at him for a moment, taking in his sincere brown eyes and his fluffy hair, feeling impossibly endeared by the boy in front of you. he fidgets under your stare, so you smooth your hands down his shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath his shirt.

"well, i do care... a lot" you tell him, pretending to be coy and batting your eyelashes at him. "but it's not like i blame her"

"what?" he looks at you blankly, confused.

"i mean, look at you" you pull him closer and then closer still, still smirking. "those nice brown eyes, the pretty hair, those shoulders... nevermind how much of a charmer you are. damn harrington, no wonder women keep throwing themselves at you."

"babe" he groans embarrassedly, "they're not throwing themselves-" he dramatically drops his forehead on your shoulder making you laugh at his discomfort, letting brown strands of hair slip through your fingers as you comfortingly pet his hair and he squeezes your waist in reprimand.

"it's true!"

he pulls you closer by the grip he has on your waist and burrows his face in the crook of your neck in lieu of an answer. you let him have it even though you would like to see his face and the way his blush is probably spreading from his cheek to his neck and rest your chin into his shoulder as you hug him.

"but one of these days i'll have to step in and defend your honor"

"please don't" he pulls away and cups your neck, thumbs brushing your cheek and staring at you disapprovingly, his eyelashes touching at the corners, the hint of a smile still on his face.

"i don't know, maybe i'll have to challenge them to a duel to the death" you disagree and look at him from under your eyelashes. he gives you an affectionate look that'd make you nauseous were it not directed at you and presses a long lingering kiss to your lips.

"shut up" he whispers against your lips. you gladly do, at least until eddie and robin start throwing balled up paper napkins at your head. it's worth it though.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #mine

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dmitriene · 7 days

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john price didn't intend to be someone's sugar daddy, not knowing that well what it means, and not even planning to join a relationship — yet, that's till he meet you on a dating app his lads almost begged him to install.

or they even installed it themselves, taking his phone while they were off in some country pub, and it wouldn't hurt to open it at least once, price thought.

indeed, it wouldn't, because that's how he found you — the sweetest, soft thing his eyes ever fell upon and seen, reminiscent so much of all the images and scenarios he often dreamed about, but always pushed further away.

john thought you looked like a proper sunshine itself, well mannered darling with toothy smiles and small, yet so sweet description of yourself, and this is the first situation in his life in which he did not think twice, before deciding to write to you straight away.

he's an old man, price is a captain inside and out, with warm heart and sincere smiles, yet bloody hands and fucked up head — he's seen everything, experienced everything, which made him the jonathan price he is right now, and still, it didn't pushed you away a tad bit.

all the time you were such a sweetheart, from the text's in the app and down the road to the first meeting, and if john didn't experience falling in love before — that was it.

it started by itself, after the first meeting there was another, with each of them you became closer and closer not only mentally, but also physically, and against the background of falling in love with you, there's responsibility that began to shallow.

john wanted to pamper you — pay for your lunches together at every meeting, then for your grocery's delivery, then it moved to fixing some little financial issues you had or even buying you something you couldn't afford right now, all of this was just for you, and you hadn't to do anything to receive it.

he had a good amount of money, the one he didn't exactly know where to spend, but there's you — you help john relax on hard days, take care of his health, comfort him when things don't go as they should, and wait for every new message from him while he's away on another mission.

shouldn't he repay to you for being his little pocket sunshine?

his, he always thinks and says, yet you don't exactly belong to him, you never talked about what exactly are you two — friends, lovers, or something else, because price never voiced his feelings and never crossed any possible boundaries, until you did it first.

a little kiss on the stubbled cheek to thank him for buying you some silly things you wanted so much recently, a warm hug against his bulky body, an innocent act of holding hands.

before it turns into messy tongue kisses, squeezing grasps of calloused palms, itchy mustache rubbing against soft flesh of your neck, sucking blooming marks to form a patch down your shoulders and to your cleavage, kissing, biting, moving away unnecessary clothing that gets into john's way.

you became his entirely, body and soul, with buzzing warmth inside your stomach and pleasurable soreness between your doughy thighs, with red marks both from price's fingers and beard, while waking up huddled under his heavy arm and under cool, silky sheets of his spacious bed.

john price fell in love with you completely and irrevocably, just as you in him — welcoming him home each time with soft touches and featherlight kisses, freshly cooked meal and tidy environment, light giggles and sincere words of love and adoration.

a dream come true, a place for him to return to, with light walls that hold only precious memories, with your gasping mewls that reverberate here at night.

from his grounding touches, soft roll of his broad hips when he nestles against your back at nights and curl his hands over the curve of your waist, hoisting your leg to probe against your sopping warmth, burrowing inside your gummy walls softly as john nuzzles his face against your shoulder blades.

price adores you, without planning it all in the first place, but now he is sure that he would not have refused to meet you in any of the circumstances.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

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dynamobooks · 2 years

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Bernard Malamud: The Assistant (1957)

#Bernard Malamud #assistant #literature #time 100 #inmigrant #jewish #grocery #jonathan rosen #brooklyn #farrar straus and giroux

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plush-rabbit · 10 months

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Hole in One

I promised nsfw of him and here it is:)

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I saw art where he has like these fucking tendrils come out of his face hole and I needed that<3

Jonathan has certainly changed after the Super-Collider. Not only was his appearance affected, with his body elongating and compressing, but also features disappearing. However, his personality was also altered. He’s become more possessive, and clingy. He hardly ever allows you to leave your home during your days off. Sure, you have to go and buy groceries and run your errands, but he needs you.

If you were to be honest with yourself, you like being needed. You adored the attention that he was giving you. You thrived under it, knowing that you were the one that he cared so much for.

So when you come home and he calls for you, touching and rutting against you while you sit on his lap, you roll your hips, feeling yourself leak arousal. It’s been too long since you’ve had any sort of intimacy with him that led to sex. Most intimacy ended right before it got physical, and you knew that would be an issue- he was still insecure about his body- you only had your fingers to pleasure yourself in the shower. Now that he has you on his lap, rutting and whining about how nice and sweet you are to him, you want nothing more than to have anything of him inside of you.

You press your lips to kiss against his jawline, peppering him in soft kisses and letting your hands cup over his chest. His hands find themselves over your hips, going under your shirt to feel your skin. “I gotta say,” you mumble, “I miss your nipples.” He hisses out your name and you smile as you kiss down his neck. “It’s true. You were always so sensitive-” the pad of your thumb swipes over where they should have been- “always whined and buck when I’d twist them.”

“I wouldn’t whine,” he mewls, looking down at you. Pinching softly as the skin on your stomach, he tilts his head. “I miss being able to kiss you.”

Smiling softly, you press a kiss on the edge of one his spots near the collarbone. “I tried not to bring it up before, but you’re um, kinda flat down there.”

“Huh?”

“You’re missing your dick, Jonny,” you murmur, rimming a hole with the point of your index finger.

“Oh um-” he clears his throat and the spot on his face divots at the top- “it's in a hole.”

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Watch.” His hand shots down to his middle, and between the small space that you’ve created, his knuckles bump against your crotch. You roll your hips against his knuckles and he’s polite enough not to say anything. Oh, it really has been a while since you’ve had any sort of action. You watch as a spot forms, swirling and dark, little lines of it rippling around, and you blink and suddenly, you’re staring at his cock.

With a watering mouth, you realize that it really has been a while. “Fuck Jonathan,” you mumble, trying to keep yourself composed.

“Good or bad?” He asks, uncertainty and insecurity twisted into his words.

Having to peel your eyes away from his cock, you look up at him. “Mind if I blow you?” He nods rapidly. “Cool.” You kiss at the edge of the spot on his face.

You sit on your knees, your hands pushing against his thighs to spread his legs. Appearing from the hole, the cock springs upwards, pure white, lacking any kind of spots. There’s a bit of coloration- a light gray that you wonder if it’s supposed to be his own coloration except in monochrome, or if it's blushing. From the hole, his package also exits the spot, resting over the edge. The spot itself is perfectly shaped for him with dark swirling lines around the edge of the hole, but there are no gaps- not an inch of room for you to rim and poke around.

“You’re bigger than before,” you say in a whisper. Moving closer to his erection, you press your face against it. “A lot bigger.” You can feel your cunt twitch at the thought of him going inside of you.

He’s looking down at you, his spot dilated and swirling. “You uh- like it?”

It really has been a while for you. You don’t even want to answer him- all that you can think about it putting him in your mouth. His skin is different than before, almost like a latex feel- or rubber. You aren’t entirely sure of the proper comparison but at the moment, it doesn’t matter.

Pressing a kiss against his cockhead, you pull back, swiping a tongue underneath his head. Other than the color and stretched size, it looks exactly like his did before- down to the vein on the underside, the soft curve to it, and the leaking head. You grab at the base of his cock, and he mumbles your names, hands lifting weakly before they fall back to the bed with a thump. Your tongue peeks out and you swipe over the slit, tasting the semen on your tongue.

It still tastes like him.

Oh, you’ve really missed him.

“Can you-” he falters with his sentence- “Please,” he begs.

You open your mouth to him, pushing yourself midway, already feeling his cockhead hit the back of your throat. He’s much longer than before. Pulling away, a thin sheen of spit covers him. Your hand wraps around his base, pumping him, and you return to him, feeling his thighs jolt at the touch. Taking him into your mouth, you can feel how hot and heavy he feels, and he leaks into your mouth, and you greedily swallow it all.

There’s never been a stronger want than now. You need him. You worship him, suckling him and hollowing your cheeks, desperate as he is to make him cum. Your jeans rub against your crotch, and you can't think how his heavy scent fills your lungs and makes your mouth water. Unbuckling them right now is the least of your concerns when you can just rut against the friction with the thick material. Pulling his cock off of your mouth, it bobs and taps against your face, leaving your spit sticking to your skin. You watch in awe as it reaches well past your face. Even thinking about it going inside of you makes you want to skip the foreplay and just put it in. The sting of it might actually be worth it.

Pushing yourself back against his cock, you take him again, shivering at how thick even his pre-ejacualtion is. Oh, your poor Jonathan- too pent up for who knows how long. You;d make up for lost time, you’re sure of it. You won’t let go of his cock until the both of you are spent and even then, you’d want him to be buried deep in your cunt, stretching and hitting deep at your core. You moan against him, the thought of him filling you with his seed and keeping it inside of you makes your cunt throb.

Your jaw almost hurts with how you have to push so far down, choking and spit dribbling in the corner of your mouth. But he sounds so good, moaning and panting your name with his hand holding onto the crown of your head. You focus on slurping him, suckling on his cockhead like it would produce you milk, moaning and rubbing yourself against the seam of your pants while he jerks and moans.

He calls your name, broken and low, his hand fisting into your hair. “I’m gonna- Fuck!” He tilts his head back, bucking his hips into your mouth, his cockhead pushing against the inside of your cheek. “Your mouth- I fucking-” The sound of you gagging echoes in your ears, and you can feel strands of spit spill from your mouth.

Your hand grasps onto his package, massaging and rolling the pair around in your hand. It feels so heavy in your hands- burning and weighted with pent frustration. Adjusting him in your mouth, your lips circle around the middle of his cock, his seed spilling and filling your mouth. It’s thick, and gooey, resting flat on your tongue and when you lean back, spills past the corner of your lips. Looking up at him, there are tears in your eyes, and your mouth closes, swallowing the seed and letting it burn down your throat.

As you stand, you can feel how slick your underwear is. It slips and sticks and you need to take off everything. You’re too hot- too aroused to even want to consider giving him a show, but as he looks at you, his cock stays erect, twitching as a gossamer string of cum hangs and drips onto the floor.

Your clothes fall into a pile and he’s looking at you with his spot swirling and erratic, and you can’t help but smile. Oh, that has to be a good sign. There’s fleeting spots of gray that stretch over his face, and you’re pulled on the bed.

Laying on the bed with your legs bent, you watch as he dips his face down. The hands on your legs squeeze, and you suck in a breath through your teeth. You can feel his face nuzzle against your thighs, soft little upwards strokes that lead down to your cunt.

A hand lets go of you, and you wait, and wait, the anticipation killing you and making you throb. You think about calling his name, wanting him to do something other than just stare at you. Something wet slicks against your cunt, and you yelp, body lifting and skin crawling with goosebumps. It’s wet and feels slimy- a feeling that you aren’t totally opposed to. His tongue- you think it’s his tongue- slides around your cunt.

“I’m sorry! I just- I wanted to try- Are you okay?” He peeks his head up from between your thighs.

“I uh- No, no. That was just a surprise. Keeping going,” you say breathlessly.

Your hands fist into the cover and you feel him lap at your cunt. It oozes over you, thin and viscid, snaking down the inside of your thighs to the bedsheets. You buck your hips. Gasps and moans fill the room, and you need him to keep going. His tongue zigzags over your cunt in fat strides, the point of it liking upwards around your hardened clit. Your hands find themselves at your breasts, pulling and twisting at your nipples.

He does such a good job with whatever he’s using.

“Fuck, Jonathan!” You yelp, lifting your hips when something else laps at your cunt, when something smaller and thinner teases at the edge of you, dipping in to feel you clench around him, but pulling away with ease. “No- Fuck, inside, please,” you moan, bucking your hips.

It doesn’t feel like it’s his hands, and it can’t be his hands because they’re holding your thighs, stretching and pushing them away. You don't have much time to think about it when your clit is rubbed with the flat of his tongue.

Something wet is against your crotch and you aren't sure what it is, it feels like it's a lot- thick and slimy. You grind against his face with stuttering hips and a twitchy cunt. Wet, clicking sounds fill the room, his tongue working you into a frenzy, scuttling around your heat, and his face buries deeper as if he can’t get close enough, as he has to be in you- or you in him considering how his holes work. He eats like a starving man which isn’t completely untrue- and he’s simply lapping and swiping at your sex.

Gasping and panting, you keen at how close you are, and in what is the cruelest he has ever been, he pulls away. You look up to see something slither back into his face hole, and he’s shining in your arousal, and his spit.

Your face is flushed and eyes squinted in frustration. “Jonathan,” you wail, a hand shooting down to finish the job yourself. Except a hole stops you, and your hand shows up on the other side of the room, reaching for you, and grabbing for nothing. “Jonathan-”

“I wanna feel,” he says, grabbing at the base of his cock, and swiping it up your cunt. His head touches at your clit, and a jolt causes you to arch your back. He slides it back down and his cock enters you. You pull your hand back, fisting when you feel him.

His hands find themselves back at your legs and he bends them, letting your cunt stretch and you feel him push further into you. Hands grips below your knees, and your hands bend to rest beside you. His thrusts are heavy and strong, and he’s bent over, looking into you as you whine and writhe under him.

Frantically, he’s burying himself deep, and you can feel it all- every twitch of his cock, the way that it stretches and makes you want to cry that it’s far too much, but you’re unable to speak, too lost on the feeling of him finally being inside of you to actually think clearly. He ruts into you, and you stare at the hole in his face. He’s so much bigger than he was before, towering over you, having to hunch himself over to keep you at face level. He’s unforgiving, whimpering and cursing under his breath. He bullies your cunt, and it’s clear that he really needed this- that he needed you. You can hear soft gasps, and moans that sound deep and strained, and you think you see his hole twitch and spasm when you call his name.

“Jonathan,” you mewl, tilting your head backwards. “‘S feels so good.” Your words are simple, mind hazy and muddled as the man before you slams his hips against yours. Sex is nothing like it was before, and you think it has to do with whatever built up pressure the two of you have had. You arch your back, your body shaking and squeezing against him as an orgasm crashes through your body. “More, more,” you plead, your hands reaching to grasp at his forearms, clawing at his skin. You don’t now why you waited to fuck him- you wouldn’t have if you knew that he was this needy and pent-up.

The spot on his face is enlarged and swirling. Staring it feels too much- like you’re going to get sucked into it and never come out. You wonder if his holes feel good too. Reaching a hand, you swirl it around one near the crook of his elbow. He thrusts into you sharply, groaning and bending his head down.

“You feel so good,” he laments. Something jolts inside of you- he sounds off, echoey and deeper. “Love how you feel.” he thrust into you and you gasp, fluttering your eyes close as he bullies your cervix. Through fluttering blinks, you watch as his jolts and the spots stretch over, almost encasing part of his shoulder in black. You wheeze and close your eyes when he pushes himself deeper into you. “‘S all mine.” You feel something wet drip on your chest and when looking, it comes out of his face hole in thick, dark drops. “I wanna be deep inside of you.” He speaks in a guttural voice as he rocks his hips into you.

There’s a knot in your stomach that tightens with every thrust, and you whine and moan, twisting and jittering as he pistons into you. You can’t bring yourself to speak, only moaning and wailing the closer that you get, the more that he fucks you in a way he hadn’t before.

“Never wanna let you go.” You return the sentiment by clamping around his cock. “I wanna fuck you,” he slurs, giving short, quick thrusts into you. “Fuck you till you’re full.”

His spots swirl and move and the way that he speaks isn’t his voice, but an echo of it, devoid of emotion, only hunger and possession that lays mixed into the vowels and constants. You really do think you’re going to be sucked into him with how serious he is.

Your body shakes and stutters as you reach your high, clamping around his cock, whining and clawing your nails into him to keep him close to you.

“Where?” He asks, his voice melding to sound more like him. “I wanna- Where?” He calls your name, weakly and shakily pushing himself inside of you. His body jolts and twitches, the hands on your squeezing and scratching your skin. “Can I cum inside?” He lowers himself, resting his forehead against your own. “Please. I wanna so bad,” he mumbles.

“Inside, please,” you mutter, reaching up to kiss at his skin that burns under your touch. “Wanna feel full.” It’s enough to set him off, chasing his high, fucking you through your own. You squeal, legs twitching and body feeling as if it's on pins.

Even as he reaches his high, he doesn’t relent- his thrusts get sloppy, but they still hold the heaviness to them. It’s like he’s making sure that when he spills into you is going to be too buried inside of you to even leak out.

Past the twitching and calling of your name, he lets his cock warm inside of you, pulling out with a groan as if leaving you is too painful to even do. He lays beside you, his cock twitching against his thigh, leaking a thick cream that can barely be distinguished from his own skin. He takes heavy breaths, fingers dancing over the bedsheets in an attempt to calm down.

You turn over, resting your hand over his. the middle of your thighs feel wet, and sticky. It leaks down and leaves a trail of warmth. His spots are smaller, back to his regular size, and while they move, they aren’t as erratic as they were before.

“That was good,” you tell him. “Fuckin’ good.”

“Mhm,” he agrees with a high-pitched voice. “Really good,” he agrees in a breathless voice. “Think we can go again?”

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goatisbetheres · 3 months

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nate talking about the two loves of his life, sid and jo 😂

On if MacKinnon and Sidney Crosby will ever play together.

“I hope so. I’m hoping, I don’t know what’s before the 2026 Olympics, there might be something, but I guess the main thing I’m focused on is the Olympics. I think Sid has a ton of game left. I think he can play as long as he wants to, honestly. I’m a believer that primes are a little longer now, and if you do the right things, look at guys like him, Pavelski. There’s lots of examples of guys very successful in their 30’s and I think Sid’s going to be a great player 2-3 years from now. Hopefully I can stay good enough to make that team, and play together.”

On who he likes to watch when he’s not playing…

“I think Sid. I watch a lot of Pittsburgh games. I watch Brayden Schenn as well. Just two good friends of mine. Tyson Barrie in Nashville, and then I love watching Kucherov. I think everyone does. If you asked everybody’s favorite player in the NHL, I think they’d say Kucherov. I think everyone is a big fan of his. Obviously McDavid is McDavid. I like watching Pastrnak, he’s a right handed shot guy. Big fan of the game.”

On Jonathan Drouin…

“First of all, I know he’s a great person, and he’s even better as a person than 10 years ago when we were in High School. His talent, it’s still there, you can see it this season. He had a slow first 10 games, just getting comfortable, and now he’s taken off. He’s looked awesome. We’re playing together on a line, and he’s earned it. He was getting healthy scratched and still had a smile on his face everyday. He took less money to come to us, which is great, but I just felt like the value he would bring, I just felt like there’s so much more there. I can’t speak on Montreal, but I know in Denver, it’s pretty good. There’s not a ton of pressure. He can kind of do his thing and fly under the radar. He even talks about just going to the grocery store now, he’s just a civilian living his life, and I think he really enjoys that…he loves hockey. He watches every game, like he really loves the game. We can just talk about anything, and I think when you have a friend from your childhood, pretty much, you just feel so comfortable with them. We drive together a lot, on road dinners, we go every time together. We do a lot of the same workouts together. We’re just together all the time in the gym, after practice, we’re just on the same page with everything, which is awesome. You don’t find that a ton, that friendship, so I’m grateful that we are teammates again, and we’ve had a lot of fun together this year.”

#have some couth babygirl!!!#sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #jonathan druin

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steveshairychest · 1 year

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Eddie gets Steve for the party's secret santa and instead of just going out and buying him a present, Eddie spends the whole month making something personal for him, something to remind Steve that he is absolutely adored by the people around him. He's seen the way Steve dismisses any and all comments from the kids about how awesome he is, he's seen the way Steve curls in on himself whenever he's complimented or praised and it hurts to see.

No matter what they say, Steve doesn't seem to get it through his thick skull that he is the party's centre of gravity. Everyone, including Eddie, finds themselves pulled in by Steve's overwhelming love and care. He is their sun. He drops anything and everything the second he's needed by anyone but if they offer the same to him, he shies away from it, brushes it off and says he can handle it. Eddie can't remember a time where Steve actually willingly accepted his help; he usually has to forcefully grab a grocery bag from Steve to stop him from trying to take them all inside himself.

So, for his present, Eddie decides to make him a book, a book filled with everything the party loves about him and everything they appreciate him doing. It's a big book of love and all that love is for Steve. Some of the kids fill pages and pages of things they love and appreciate about Steve, Dustin draws a whole coloured comic that spreads over 5 pages and some of them just fill one page but that's okay. Eddie and Robin write enough to fill the whole book; they actually have to add more pages to the book because there's no room for anyone else to write after Robin goes full sap mode.

Nancy writes one page but forbids anyone else to read it, says it's only for Steve to see and they respect that. They leave the page next to her's blank so that no one sees it. Eddie's only mildly surprised when Jonathan asks to write in the book. He doesn't write a lot but from his sneaky glances, Eddie can tell Jonathan is extremely grateful for everything Steve's done for the kids.

When it comes time to actually give the gift to Steve, Eddie is extremely nervous. He's scared he's overstepped, that it's going to make Steve uncomfortable. Maybe he should have just gotten him that cute sweater or made him a mixtape.

Eddie opens his gift, it's a custom hellfire guitar pick and new strings; stuff he'd only talked about around Robin. He smiles knowingly at her but she acts the fool, pretends she has no idea who his secret santa was but her giant smile gives her away.

And then Steve is reaching for his present and Eddie feels like he's going to pass out. Everyone's smiling and shoving each other excitedly as Steve tears the wrapping paper off but all Eddie can do is nervously look between the present and Steve, watching for the slightest hint that it's too much, that Steve doesn't like it.

The room is so silent, the only sound is pages turning and Eddie's almost panicked breathing as Steve reads through every single page without looking at anyone in the room. He can't get a read on him, can't figure out if he loves it or hates it and then Steve's crying, his chest heaving as he gently closes the book and covers his face with his hands, tries to hide himself away from everyone. Oh, God he made Steve cry on Christmas. He feels like absolute shit.

"Steve, I'm sorry -" He doesn't get to finish because Steve pulls him into a hug so tight he can barely breathe. He feels Steve's tears soak through his shirt as he cries into Eddie's chest and Eddie can do nothing but hold him and try to read Robin's lips as she tries to communicate something to him from across the room. "Spoiler alert, I was your secret santa, but I can't tell if you hate or like your present. Just tell me straight up, I don't mind." Eddie whispers into his hair as he gently rocks them side to side. The book he made for Steve sits discarded beside them and from this angle, Eddie can see that Steve dog tagged a few of the pages. He'd been too focused on watching Steve's reaction to notice him do it.

Steve sniffs and pulls back, his eyes red and puffy. "I loved it." He moves away from Eddie and sits back in his original spot so that he can see all his friends, see all the people that filled a book with words he never thought he deserved to hear. "I really loved it. Thank you. I especially love the comic where I fight 40 demodogs even though I'm pretty sure it was only like 4." He says this while smiling at Dustin, who puffs his chest out with pride and boasts about being Steve's favourite part of the book.

"I think I wrote a whole novel in there." Robin says while scooting closer to Steve so that she can rest her head on her best friend's shoulder. "Did you even read all of it?"

Steve rests his head against hers and points to the dog tagged page in the book. "I've saved it for later. I didn't want to get snot and tears all over the page."

"Ew, you're disgusting." She shoves at him playfully but Steve catches her arm and pulls her into a hug, a hug that they both relax into, a hug that says a million things no one but them will understand.

Eddie feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that he knows the present wasn't one big mistake. He doesn't know if Steve read the pages he wrote, doesn't know if Steve will feel the same, doesn't know if confessing his feelings in a secret santa present was the right way to go but he can't bring himself to regret it. Seeing the way Steve pulls all of his friends into a hug and whispers something to all of them, something only meant for that person to hear, brings a warmth to his chest.

He hopes that Steve understands now. He hopes that having all of their love for him in physical form helps him realise that he is more than just a babysitter, more than a human shield, more than a bad ex boyfriend.

And to Eddie, he's more than a friend. He poured his entire heart into that book and he hopes that Steve will handle the pages carefully and that when he's ready, he'll answer the question Eddie wrote on the last page of the book.

'Will you let me love you?'

#RAHH ITS CHRISTMAS IN A WEEK #THIS WASNT MEANT TO BE THIS LONG #CHRISTMASSSS!!!!#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 5 months

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Steddie Upside-down AU Part 24

Part 1 Part 23

Will stays on the periphery of the shopping trip, trailing behind Nancy and Jonathan as they drag bear traps, nails, and ammo up to the counter. He imagines the Demogorgon writhing, both feet stuck in the traps, imagines its head blown clean off by Lonnie’s gun, imagines driving a nail straight into its heart like it's a vampire.

He never thought violence could make him feel like this – vindicated. Victorious. Whenever Mike and Dustin snuck horror movies from Family Video, Will always had to turn away from the gore. Even when the person deserved it. Even when it was against a monster.

But the Demogorgon had stolen him, had stolen Eddie, still has Steve in its grasp and he wants it to pay.

The clerk gives them all a suspicious look, Will most of all, before asking, “what’s all this for then?”

Nancy and Jonathan trade looks, like Will isn’t behind them at all, before Nancy replies, “monster hunting.”

Apparently satisfied, the clerk shrugs and tells them the total. It’s more than they usually pay at the grocery store for a whole week’s worth of food. He sees Jonathan cringe, even as he forks it over.

They carry their purchases away, Nancy handing Will the box of nails. He clutches them to his chest as they make their way to where Jonathan’s car is in the parking lot.

“You know, last week, I was shopping for a top I thought Steve might like. It took me and Barb all weekend,” Nancy says, carefully placing the bear traps into the trunk. Will didn’t realize Nancy and Steve were boyfriend and girlfriend, didn’t realize they knew each other at all, past the way everyone in small towns sort of knows of everyone else. “It seemed like life or death, you know? And now–”

“You’re shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers,” Jonathan says. He says his own name like it’s a joke. Will doesn’t like it.

“Yeah,” she says, laughing a little as Jonathan haphazardly throws the ammo on top of the rest of their purchases before slamming the trunk closed. “And I don’t know if I even want him to like me like that anymore.”

Will can’t imagine having someone like Steve – nice, cool, an action hero – and not wanting to be liked.

“We got into this fight the night he disappeared,” Nancy continues, laugh coming out sharp and wet this time, all the humor sucked straight out. “And I was so mad, but now I just hope he’s alive.”

Jonathan turns away from Nancy, looks directly at Will, says, “yeah,” with a fervor that makes his cheeks warm.

“He’s alive,” Will says.

No one asks why he’s so sure. Will’s glad. He couldn’t explain it if he tried. Just knows somewhere deep inside that Steve is alive. He’s waiting for them to save him this time.

Barbara’s car is in the driveway when they get home. She’s dawdling on the porch with Eddie and an older man that must be his Uncle Wayne.

Eddie looks both more at ease with his Uncle by his side, and more keyed up than Will’s ever seen him. He’s twitching in his toes, like he’s waiting to take flight; gravity barely keeping him on the surface of the earth.

He settles when Will gets out of the backseat. He feels it like a tug – the need to get back to Eddie’s side is almost an itch on his bones. Eddie meets him halfway, pulling Will beneath the wing of his arm and pulling him in.

Will’s breath comes easier than they had since they separated, like two pieces snapping back into their rightful place.

“Who’s this?” the older man asks gruffly, still standing on the front porch.

Will’s heartbeat stutters at the stern expression, but Eddie just beams, skipping up to him and flourishing his hand grandiosity between the both of them. “Uncle Wayne, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Will Byers. He kicks ass,” he says. “Will, this is my Uncle Wayne. He’s nice, I promise.”

Wayne looks him up and down, eyebrows furrowed before easing, the corners of his mouth ticking up in what must be a smile. “And your other two friends?” he asks.

Eddie points with his free arm. “That Big Byers, Will’s brother,” he says, talking over Jonathan’s quiet, “it’s Jonathan. He points at Nancy, and with much less enthusiasm, finishes, “And that’s Nancy Wheeler.”

Wayne looks between all of them, his eyebrows furrowing like angry caterpillars. “Where are all of your parents?” he asks before turning to Will, “especially yours. If I’m not mistaken, they fished your body out of the water”

Will’s gut churns. He and Eddie trade wide-eyed looks. “I died?” he asks, voice trembling.

“Well, obviously not!” Eddie says, squeezing Will’s shoulder tight enough to twinge. “You’ve been with me the whole time, baby Byers.”

Wayne’s still looking at him, like he’s trying to see through his skin and analyze his skeleton for human parts. “Either way kid, where’s your Mom?” he asks. “Have y’all called Joyce?”

Will shuffles, looking over his shoulder at Jonathan. “She wasn’t here when we got in,” he says, looking down at his scuffed sneakers. “She’s been spending a lot of time with Chief Hopper. Maybe she’s with him?”

Wayne sighs. “Can I use your phone, boy?” He asks the question pointedly toward Will, so Will leads the way to the phone, everyone else trailing behind nervously.

Wayne dials out, lets it ring, before saying. “Hey, Flo, It’s Wayne.” He hums in response to whatever she says, the way adults always do, before continuing. “Right as rain, but I need you to radio the Chief for me.” Will can barely make out Florence’s muffled voice, but the words are lost to the phone line. “He’ll want to hear this. Trust me.”

Wayne does that same barely upturned smile. It wrinkles his eyes up, though. Like it’s a real one even if it’s small. “Thanks, Flo. Tell him to meet me at the Byers house.”

He hangs up the phone on Florence’s muffled response.

Wayne looks around, as if only just taking in the wreck of the house, eyebrows ticked up, scrunching up his forehead. He doesn’t say anything, though. Just asks, “this house got any coffee in it?”

Jonathan goes to make a pot, and they all settle back around the table, waiting for the Chief to burst down the door. It doesn’t take long.

The door slams open, hard enough that Will thinks it might leave a hole in the plaster. “Wayne?” he calls.

“In here!” Wayne calls back, sipping his coffee calmly like the Chief of Police isn’t yelling his name.

The Chief strides into the room like he has a right to it. His eyes settle on Wayne first, looking pissed off, before his eyes flick around the table, from Barb, to Nancy, to Jonathan, to Eddie, and finally, landing on Will and staying.

He goes pale, like Will’s a ghost someone invited for morning coffee. He shrinks into his seat, as Hopper yells, “Joyce?”

Then his Mom is there. She looks tired. Her hair is mussed, clothes wrinkly, bags under her eyes. Eyes that immediately settle on Will. She stops breathing, goes still as a corpse before bolting to his side.

She pulls him from his chair with enough force that they both go tumbling to the laminate. “Baby, baby, is that really you?” she asks, crying. She’s smelling his hair like that will tell her. Like he doesn’t still smell like sweat and dirt and ash. “Oh baby, you came home.”

Will burrows into her chest, sobbing. Part of him hadn’t been able to stop hearing her yelling his name as the Demogorgon growled, had been terrified that it’d gotten her, despite what Steve had said.

“I was so worried, sweetheart,” she says, garbled enough to almost be unintelligible. “I heard those awful noises and the gunshots, and then you wouldn’t talk to me, baby.”

She clutches him impossibly tighter. Will wriggles enough to free his face so he could breathe. Jonathan is kneeling behind her, hands settled on both their shoulders, crying in a way that Will’s never seen before.

He never wants to leave this moment.

But then the Chief yells over the din, “can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

It goes quiet except for Joyce’s crying, like no one wants to be in the man’s crosshairs. Finally, it’s Eddie who responds. “You won’t believe this, Hop.”

Will pulls out of his Mom’s arms. She keeps them latched onto his ribs, but lets him sit up on his own. He looks over at where Eddie’s still seated at the table. His jaw is firm, resolute under his Uncle’s steadying hand. The Chief is glaring down at him, nostrils flaring in his customary anger before he takes a steadying breath, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why don’t you give me a try?”

Part 25

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #will byers #my fic

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