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eagerbby · 2 years

Text

only you | e.m.

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| You and Eddie were never meant to be just friends.

an| written in a world where Eddie was never accused, never died, and more importantly, finally graduated. not very canon, billy’s still alive and briefly mentioned. this was a quick break from a fix-it fic I’m currently writing and very much inspired by the song touch tank by quinnie. it’s eddies song and i’ll die on this hill.

warnings| oral (female receiving), PnV (protected), Eddie running his mouth, thats a warning in itself, 18+ only

[June 9, 1986]

The pitiless Indiana sun hung high in the cerulean sky, its uv-rays biting at your bare skin. The cool pool water lapping over your legs every time Eddie moved was the only relief at the moment.

“Have you ever been in the ocean?” He asked lazily, his long fingers flicking water across your bare thighs. The two of you lay opposite each other in the barely six foot wide and three foot deep blow up pool set up next to his front porch. Your feet floated next to his shoulders, grazing the freckled pale skin there every time he shifted or turned. Meanwhile, tall and gangly Eddie had his head propped up on the blue polyvinyl rim, his own feet hung over the side next to your head. He had bitched and moaned once the two of you had finally finished setting it up, “I don’t even fit all the way.” He’d complained. “Why’d you buy a damn kiddie pool?”

You had laughed at him, his pale body laying stick straight in the cool water in only a pair of plaid blue boxers. You had begged him to let you buy him a pair of swim shorts but he had refused.

“It’s just you and me, it’s not like you haven’t seen my boxers all over my bedroom floor.”

“Yeah, but what if you go to the public pool? You’ll need them then.”

“Ha. Not likely you’ll ever see Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson at the public pool. The parent’s would probably gather pitchforks and torches and hang me at the gallows.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Eds.”

“M’not. And anyway, I don’t like swimming, I’m only doing this for you.”

“My parents used to take my little brother and I to the Outer Banks when we were younger. We’d go every summer, swim in the ocean or walk the dunes to the lighthouse.” You opened your eyes to look at him only to find he’s already watching you speak, his deep brown eyes hidden behind the lens of his aviator sunglasses. His hair is almost dry now except for the ringlets that float atop his shoulders in the water. “You should probably take those sunglasses off before you get too much sun on your face. Gonna get a weird ass tan line from them.”

He does as you tell him, taking them off and tossing them onto the porch. “I’ve never been.” He said. “The ocean scares the fuck outta me. All that never ending water. Do you ever think about how many bodies are in the ocean? Lost to the dark depths of the sea.”

You sat up at his words, a perplexed look on your face as you stared at him. “Well that’s fucking morbid. Jesus Christ, Eddie.”

He only shrugged in his usual unbothered way, his knuckles grazing the skin of your thigh beneath the rippling water.

“You’ve never thought about it before?” He asked.

“Not really, no. I guess I blocked the thought from my mind. I love swimming in the ocean.”

“You love swimming with dead bodies. Got it.”

You splashed him at this, laughing as the small tidal wave blasted him. The shock of the cold water hitting his warm skin caused him to shoot up, water dripping down his face as he wrestled you backwards into the water. You squealed when he grabbed your shoulders, his hand holding the back of your neck as he dunked you. The gurgle of the water echoed your laugh and as he pulled you back up you spit a fountain of water right into his face.

“Who would have ever imagined that you, The Princess of Hawkins high and valediction, was such a freak.”

“I graduated two years ago, Eddie! Now I’m just the queen of folding panties at Starcourt mall, and failing my English lit course.”

You watched Eddie’s expression shift at the word panties, your best friend's eyes now slightly wider, his grip on the back of your neck a little harder. He was so close to you, sitting on his knees in the small pool, completely leaned over your body. You didn’t see him shirtless often and you had never seen him shirtless and so close. If you reached up you could trace the dark ink of his tattoo that sat just beneath his collarbone. Scratch your fingers against the small splattering of hair on his sternum. That strange feeling stirred in your stomach, the same one you’d been getting for a couple months now. You didn’t understand it and what made it worse was that Eddie, your best friend, was the sole cause of it.

You felt it for the first time after Eddie had fallen asleep during your weekly movie night. His head was laying on the pillow in your lap, you hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen asleep until you heard him softly snore. He’d had a bad day at school, Jason Carver and his cronies spray painting ‘Freak’ in bright red letters across the windshield of his van. When you got to his trailer later that day you found him sitting on the hood of the van with a razor blade, slowly scraping the still wet paint from the glass. You had tried helping him but he only waved you off, telling you it was fine. But his eyes were red rimmed and glassy like he’d been crying. You wanted to kill those stupid jocks, which you voiced with indignation. But Eddie had only shook his head. He wasn’t a fighter despite what the whole town thought. He just didn’t have it in him.

“Lets go.” You said softly, your hand holding onto his forearm as you looked up at him.

“What?”

“To the ocean. Let’s go to the ocean, Eddie.” It was only a whisper as it passed your lips, your eyes searching his face. His furrowed eyebrows made him appear confused, but there was something else swimming in the chocolate brown of his iris’.

“What are you talking about, Crazy?” He lazily dragged you to sit up as he shifted from his knees to stretch his long legs out in front of himself. You waited for him to get comfortable before bouncing up onto your own knees, your fingers excitedly grabbing the wet fabric of his boxers on his leg. You don’t notice his cheeks flush as his eyes quickly flashed down to your hands and back up to your eyes.

“You, Eddie Munson, are a high school graduate now. You have a whole summer before you have to start thinking about what's next! And I have some vacation time and a shoebox full of savings from the past two years.” You rambled, your smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “We could take your van, o-or my car, and we could drive to the Outer Banks. Rent a motel and just have fun.”

“Y-you want to waste two years worth of savings to go to the beach?”

“It wouldn’t be a waste, Eddie! It’d be… well it’d be like an adventure.”

He was silent, looking away from you, his eyes scanning the quiet trailer park. Your shoulders dropped a little when you realized he didn’t share the same excitement as you. He had an entire summer to do whatever he wanted, why would he want to spend it with you driving to somewhere he’s never been.

He doesn’t even like the ocean, you idiot.

“Forget it. It’s stupid.” He jumped a little as you suddenly stood up, rivets of water rushing down the expanse of your body. You’ve stepped one foot out of the pool before he’s grabbing your wrist softly.

“Hey, where are you going?” He asked gently, his eyes wide like he’d just gotten into trouble.

“Inside to change. I think I got too much sun.” You shook your arm until his hand slipped from your wrist, falling back into the water with a splash. You snatched your towel from the rickety lawn chair and escaped into his trailer, ignoring him calling your name. You grabbed your bookbag from the couch and all but ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind you with shaking hands.

You felt so fucking stupid. You already spent eighty percent of your time with him, practically attached at the hip as his freshman friend Dustin had pointed out, how could you think he’d want to spend even more time with you. Especially somewhere far from home. For fucks sake, he hadn’t even looked at you as you went on and on about it. He was too nice to tell you it was a stupid idea. The way he stared off, probably thinking of how to let you down gently, was all the answer you needed.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t that good of an idea. You weren’t known for your extraordinary planning skills and both of your vehicles were pieces of shit. In fact the likelihood of making it across the Indiana border just to break down in some podunk town was terribly high. The thought of spending the rest of your money getting the car fixed just to turn around and go right back home, broke and without ever seeing the damn beach, made you a little nauseous. Because that would be your luck.

A knock at the bathroom door made you jump. "Hey, you okay in there?" Eddie, voice peppered with concern. You tossed your bathing suit in the sink and turned the shower on.

"I gotta wash my hair, be out in a minute." You yelled back at the door before stepping into the shower stall, the hot water easing the tension from your muscles.

You didn't want him to think you were upset so you hurried through your shower, using his old spice to wash your body and his shampoo and conditioner that smelled of citrus in your hair. It was a distinct smell, one that was all him, and it made your stomach whirl once again. Your crush on him was starting to become a nuisance.

Once you were clean and dried off, dressed in his Iron Maiden shirt you stole from his drawer a couple weeks ago and a pair of black jean shorts that were frayed at the ends, you slowly cracked the door open, peering out towards the living room slash kitchen in search for a puff of raven curls.

He wasn’t there, so instead you followed the sound of Ozzy Osborne down the hall and into Eddie’s messy bedroom.

He was in his bed, back propped up against the headboard and rolling a joint with idle fingers. He was still shirtless but with a pair of gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, the band of his now white boxers resting against his dark happy trail. A wildfire blazed in your stomach at the sight and you couldn’t help but clamp your thighs together.

Does he not realize how unbearably hot he is?

He didn’t, actually, which was why seeing him like this all laid out with his chest bare and that smattering of hair that led down his abdomen and under his pants made your mouth so dry your tongue felt like it weighed 110 pounds and your hands so clammy you had to wipe them against your shorts. You cleared your throat in an attempt to subdue your racing thoughts and took a seat on the edge of his bed, body turned towards him watching him roll with ease.

He looked up with a smile when he felt your weight dip into the mattress. “Are you feeling any bette-'' He paused, glaring at the long haired zombie on your shirt. His shirt. “Is that my fucking shirt?”

You glanced down and back up, imitating the causal shrug he always gave you.

“Maybe.” You deadpanned. Eddie spluttered.

“Maybe? Who else do you know listens to Iron fucking Maiden?”

“I know people.”

“You know people?”

“A couple.”

Eddie’s eyes suddenly narrowed, a quiet disapproval in those deep brown eyes of his.

“Billy Hargrove?” He asked with a grating timbre in his voice you’d never heard before. He’d tossed the joint down into the ashtray and got off the bed, standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“B- What?” You’re so exasperated you can’t even form a sentence. “Billy Hargrove? What?”

“It’s him right? I know you used to hangout with him. He’s totally not an Iron Maiden fan, by the way. He definitely listens to Foreigner and cries in his piece of shit Camaro.”

“Hey! Don’t talk bad about Foreigner, I love them.” You stood up from the bed with your hands on your hips. “He’s a Guns N’ Roses guy anyways; completely idolizes Axel Rose.”

“Oh. Okay. So Billy Hargrove likes Guns N’ Roses and groupies for Axel Rose. Amazing.”

“I don’t hang out with Billy Hargrove, Eddie. Not like that, anyways.”

His nostrils flared and he nodded. “But you do hang out.”

“Maybe once or twice, I guess?” Your voice forms a question. You didn’t consider having a couple of the same friends and being at parties the other is at as ‘hanging out’. “What- What is this, Eddie? Why are you freaking out over Billy?”

“I’m not.” He said, blinking a couple times like he was trying to snap out of something. He leaned over your shoulder and grabbed the joint out the ashtray, lit it, and walked over to his cluttered table to search through a milk crate full of records. “Just figured the people you were talking about was him, s’all.”

“Eddie,” You said, coming up beside him to grab his wrist. He froze, his hands stopping their furious flipping of records, but his gaze stayed low. “I was fucking around, Eddie.”

“Fucking around?’

“Yes, Eddie. I was just joking.”

He turned to you at your words, staring dead into your eyes. The intensity of his stare made your heart stutter. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”

“Jealous? Wh- Eddie what the fuck are you talking about.”

There was a pregnant pause. Just you and Eddie staring into each other's eyes. Why would you want to make him jealous? You didn’t even know that was an option. You and Eddie were friends. Best friends. Friends don’t get jealous of their friends hanging out with other people. And Billy Hargrove? You had no idea where he pulled that one from. Not once had you ever even mentioned his name around Eddie. There was nothing worth mentioning. You thought Billy was stuck up and an absolute douchebag. Was he nice to look at? Sure. But you were nearly positive his heart was black with hatred and you believed being pretty meant nothing if your personality was shit.

“Uh, Eddie? Are you jealous?” He couldn’t look you in the eyes, instead he was flickering his gaze to anywhere but your face. “Eddie?”

“Would you hate me if I said yes?” He trailed his question off, biting at the skin on his lips as he waited for a response.

“I could never hate you, Eddie. You’re my best friend.”

He rolled his eyes. He rolled his fucking eyes. “Your best friend, right.” He said through a cloud of smoke. You snatched the joint sitting pretty between his fingers and dropped it in his other ashtray, the glass one shaped like a skull.

“Why are you saying it like that? You are my best friend.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be.” He said defiantly and your throat felt like it was going to close and your eyes burned from the prickle of your unshed tears welling in your eyes. He didn't want to be your best friend. Those words made you want to crawl into your body, to somehow vanish into thin air. Not too long ago you two were laughing together in the pool, discussing Steve Harrington's newest girl drama which was all supplied to you by Dustin Henderson. The night before you two made shitty Jiffy Pop while blazed out of your minds and sang karaoke so loud his neighbors came banging on the door, furious.

But now he didn’t want to be friends.

“Is this because I asked you to go on a roadtrip with me?” Your voice wavered and your chin started to tremble. “I know it was a bad idea.”

He strangely looked befuddled. “W-what? No. No, it’s not tha-”

“Well then what did I do?” You whined, tossing your hands about, unsure of what to do or what to say. What to think.

“You didn’t do-” He cut himself off, frustrated with his inability to explain himself. He looked at you, saw the tremble in your chin and shook his head. “You know what, fuck it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he was surging forward, grasping your face in his hands, and pulling you towards him. His lips met yours with so much force you gasped, hands clutching his hips for purchase. You couldn’t form a single thought as you stood there, eyes squeezed shut, your chest so tight you couldn’t breathe. But then his hand smoothed over your cheek and grasped the back of your neck, his fingernails scraping over the sensitive skin there, and you finally kissed him back. Eddie moaned. The sound so loud it vibrated through your mouth and straight to the core of your being.

You kissed him with every ounce of power you had. Kissed him like you had daydreamed about so many times before as you watched him roll, or play guitar, or sing along to the radio as he drummed against the steering wheel. You kissed him for everytime he smiled and you felt your heart skip a beat. For every time he hugged you just because you looked like you needed one. For every smile he’d ever graced you with. You kissed him like you’d never kissed anyone before in your life, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from a different point of view, but it felt perfect.

Eddie pulled away first, gasping for air in the crook of your neck, his body practically folded into you. “Fuck,” he drew out the word long enough to make you giggle, drunk off his lips.

“Eddie.” You soothed, combing your fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you wanna be my friend?”

He raised to his full height at your question. “Best friends can’t kiss like that.” He’s so out of breath, his words merely a whisper as he continued. “And every goddamn time I look at you all I wanna do is kiss your pretty fucking mouth.”

He left you speechless, looking up into his big brown eyes that you loved so much. He lets you take a second, think on it, all the while stroking his thumb across your cheek.

“How long?” Is all you can ask.

“Shit, since fucking middle school, baby.” He blushed as he said it, the pretty pink darkening to a cherry red as he watched your eyes widen in surprise.

“Middle school?” You whispered.

“I always have. But in middle school you showed up to the snowball in that cute purple dress with your hair all big and your makeup maybe a little too grown for a 12 year old and all I could think about was walking over and asking you to dance. Shit, I wanted to kiss your cheek so fucking bad.” You laughed at the way he scrunched his nose at the last part. You remembered middle school Eddie, his buzzed head and those horrible army green bell bottoms that he’d ripped up to look cool. You liked that Eddie as much as you liked this one, even back then.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked as you pushed up against his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. In this position he had to look down his nose at you, his dark lashes fluttering across his cheeks.

“You were you and I was the freak.”

“I never thought that about you, Eddie.”

He sighed, kissing your forehead. “I didn’t know that then, baby.”

“Should have asked.” You teased, planting a kiss on his chest when he tried to act offended.

You two stood like that for a while, just wrapped up in each other, testing the waters of this new dynamic. One where you both knew where you stood with each other.

“I’m sorry I upset you earlier, you uh- you kinda surprised me.” He spoke into the crown of your head.

“It was a stupid idea, anyway.”

“No it’s not. I wanna go. I just don’t want to spend all your money doing it. Give me a couple months to save up and we can go.”

“I don’t care about the money, Eds.” You said as you took your head off his chest and gazed up at him.

“I know. Just give me a couple months, okay.”

“Okay, Eddie.”

Silence fell over the two of you. Eddie started swaying to the music at some point, humming along to a Black Sabbath song that was definitely not slow dance material. You kissed the tattoo on his chest as you swayed, looking up at him with your best version of puppy dog eyes.

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked softly. He hummed against you, kissing your forehead as he waited for you to finish your question. “Can you kiss me again?”

“Did you use my shampoo?”

Eddie’s voice raised up from the crease of your neck, a hint of amusement in his words. He had you laid out on his bed, slowly working kisses across your body. What had started as a soft little makeout session bloomed into something more when you had drug your nails up his spine the moment he found that sweet spot just behind your ear.

“Mhm.” You were too distracted to answer, focusing on the feel of his tongue laving against your neck and the way his hips shuddered against your clothed pussy every time you dug your nails into his skin.

“I like when you smell like me.” He mused. “Makes me feel like you’re mine.”

“M’yours, Eddie.” You whispered, guiding his face up to look at him. His lips were puffy and tinted red from sucking hickeys against your throat and his eyes were wide, searching your face for honesty.

“Promise?” He said after a quiet couple seconds and you nodded, leaning your head up to kiss the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth.

“Promise.”

Eddie’s smile lit up his entire face, all dimpled and pink cheeked. It made your heart swell.

“Can I taste you?”

He asked in such a polite way, it caught you off guard. You couldn’t remember ever having a guy ask to eat you out. It was always something you hinted at and they brushed aside. One guy had even told you that eating a girl out made him soft and in the same breath forced your head down on his dick. But here was Eddie, looking at you so expectantly and yet so patiently.

“Yeah.”

Eddie didn’t waste a second getting to his knees on the mattress, fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts as he mumbled to himself. “Oh shit, okay. Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long, you don’t even understand. Pretty baby. So fucking pretty.”

You helped him shimmy the black fabric from your legs, Eddie tossing them over his shoulder with such force they knocked his acoustic guitar, that sat across from the bed, off its stand. He paid no attention to the instruments sharp bellow as it hit the carpet, instead he was transfixed on your purple lace panties.

“Christ.” He breathed, his index and middle finger tracing up the wet spot that had been steadily growing from the moment he kissed you. “You’re so wet.”

“Because of you.” You keened, Eddie suddenly adding more force in his stroking right against your clit. He flashed his eyes up to yours.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Shit, I never thought I’d hear you say that outside of my dreams.” He seems to lose himself in his heavy caressing while you grip his sheets so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Eddie, please.” You couldn’t stop the whine that escaped your lips, dipping your fingers under the band of your panties and impatiently trying to take them off.

Eddie chuckled to himself as he watched you struggle. “Okay, okay. I’ve got you baby. Calm down.” He gave your panties the same treatment, peeling them down your thighs and tossing them over his shoulder. He bit his lip as he lowered his stomach to the bed, face to face with your weeping core. “So eager to be on my tongue, huh. Who woulda thought you’d be sobbing at the thought of me, The Freak, licking your sweet little pussy.”

“Eddie,” You were so touch starved, so desperate to feel his mouth on you, that you thought you might actually cry if he didn’t do something. “Shut the fuck up, please. Please. Just… Oh, Eddie, please.”

“Mm, okay.”

The second his warm tongue hit you, you cried out. Hands fumbling for purchase and finding it in his dark brown hair. You gripped the strands at the roots hard enough to hurt but Eddie only moaned and tightened his grip on your thighs, pulling them open even further to sink his tongue as far into your pussy as he could. His nose brushed against your swollen clit with each delve of his tongue, the muscle exploring every inch of your sensitive pussy. You trained your eyes on his nicotine stained ceiling, trying so hard to push back the fire rising in your stomach. You’d never felt anything like it before.

“That feels so fucking good, Eddie.” You loosened your grip on him to pet at his hair, unsure if it was to praise him or soothe yourself. Peeling your eyes from the ceiling you cast your hazy stare down only to find his big brown eyes watching you from between your thighs, mouth latched around your sensitive clit as he alternated from gentle sucks to fast flicks of his tongue. Your thighs burned as you rocked your hips against his face, fucking into his mouth for more friction, hands shaking against his cheeks. He looked so unbelievably pretty staring up at you with so much fondness and lust in his eyes, his mouth and tongue completely ravishing you like no man ever had before.. So you tell him…

“You’re so pretty like this, Eddie. You- oh fuuck- you’re always so pretty b-but-” You let out a wanton cry as Eddie slipped two fingers into your achy cunt. He finds that spot inside you that whitens your eyesight almost immediately, like he knew exactly where it was. Between his fingers and his devilish tongue you were seeing stars, tears slipping freely at how extreme the sensation was. “Oh god, Eddie. Eddie, I’m- I’m gonna-” You couldn’t even fucking speak anymore.

Eddie acknowledged you with a shuddering groan, quickening his movements to drive you over the precipice. His eyes never once leave your face.

You came with a small scream, hips arched off the bed, your fingernails leaving crescent moons into the skin of his wrist. The feeling was all consuming, overwhelming in all the best ways. You let out a sob as he eased you through it, rubbing your thighs comfortingly as they shook with fervor around his head. You could hear yourself speaking but it was muffled by the roaring in your ears; it sounded like you were speaking in tongues. Eddie heard every word.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. Don’t stop, baby. Never fucking stop. So good, s-so fucking good. You’re so fucking good, Eddie. Oh my god, I love you.”

Eddie kissed your thighs as your orgasm faded, your burning lungs gasping for air. When you could finally breathe again, he left one last lingering kiss before crawling up your body. You held his face with shaking hands when he reached you, the biggest shit eating grin on his cum soaked face.

“You love me, huh?” He pondered with a fleeting kiss to your lips. “Or do you just love the way I eat your pussy?”

“Both you fucking deviant. Both.” Each inhale rattled in your chest and every exhale burned the lining of your throat. Eddie chuckled as he kissed you again, pressing his hard cock against your still sensitive core.

“Who knew you were a fucking screamer, baby.”

“I could tell you that was all you but then you’d fucking gloat about it for the rest of eternity.”

“Still might.” He hummed, ghosting kisses over your eyes and nose and lips. “You look so fucking hot when you cum. Never seen anything like it. Coulda cum right then and there but I wanna be inside you.”

You reached a hand between your bodies, running a heavy finger over the outline of his cock in his sweats. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, still a little breathless.

Eddie nodded excitedly before bounding up from the bed and over to his dresser. He rifled through it aggressively. Cursing here and there as he tossed socks and a random cassette tape onto the floor in his frenzied search. When he finally finds what he was looking for he exclaimed to himself, “Fucking finally.”.

He leaves the mess he made, struggling to pull his sweats and boxers off as he makes his way back over to you, sprawled out and butt naked in his bed. Once he finally gets there, after narrowly avoiding tripping over his own boots on the floor, he crawls on top of you with the aluminum wrapper between his teeth. You watched with bated breath as he ripped it open, rolling it down the dark pink head of his cock. Once he’s done he positioned himself in the apex of your thighs, fisting his cock and smoothing the latex covered head through your slick covered folds.

“I, uh, I’m probably not gonna last that long.” He said, his eyes downcast, watching the way your hips rutted into him with every swipe of his cock.

“It’s okay, Eds. Just fuck me.” You grabbed his chin, forcing his face up. When your eyes met you smiled at him sweetly and added, “Please.”

Eddie wasted no time pressing into you, his thick cock stretching you wide as he bottomed out inside you. His cheeks were flamed pink, a bead of sweat bleeding from his hairline down the curve of his nose. He pulled out gently and plunged back in, the tip of his tongue poking through his teeth as he concentrated on his slow deliberate thrusts. You dug your heels into the backs of his thighs, hoping he'd get the hint to go faster. Harder. The slow drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you was agonizing. But he only ignored your pressing and not so subtle whines, folding himself over top of you with one arm wrapped around your back and a callused hand holding your cheek. He was being so gentle. It wasn’t something you were used to. Every other guy you’d been with just used you to get off as fast as they could. But Eddie was taking his time, having found a pace that kept you needing more. You found yourself giggling at a particularly languid thrust and Eddie’s round eyes, with his pupils completely blown black, shot up to yours.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, stilling himself inside of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…” You giggled again and his eyes narrowed. “I just thought, who would have imagined you to be such a gentle lover. You know, with your bad boy–heavy metal image and all.”

“Don’t forget local drug dealer and devil worshiper.” His smile cracked wide as you giggled again. That giggle, however, turned into a sharp cry with a snap of his hips. “I can be gentle. When I want to be.”

You could only nod at this, your breath lodged in your throat at another hard snap of his hips. Your comment had urged him to go faster. To show you that, yes, he could be gentle. But he could also fuck you senseless.

“Imagine what they’d think of you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, forehead pressed hard to the side of your head, his hips building into a maddening pace. He had thrown your leg over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper, to hit that spot inside your core that brought tears to your eyes. “You were always such a good girl. Hawkins number one girl. Do you even remember what they said when they found out we were friends?”

You shook your head, unable to speak with how hard and deliberate his thrusts were.

“They said I was corrupting you.” He released a breathy, dark laugh. His hand slotting through the strands of your hair to grip the roots. “But they didn’t know that you sought me out, hm. Followed me to the woods just so we could be alone. Made me laugh. Made me feel special.”

You remembered that day. Remembered watching him walk through the tree line all alone, that black metal lunch pail gripped tightly in his hand. You knew what he was doing, skipping class to go smoke up. You’d seen him do it before. But that day you followed after him, nervously gripping the ruched fabric of your cheer skirt as you went. You couldn’t help yourself, You wanted to know him so badly.

“Everyday after that, you found me.” His thrusts were starting to get sloppy and you could tell in the way he held you, in the way his words doubled as moans, that he was getting close. “I tried so hard to keep you from getting too close. People are shunned for being close to me. But you wouldn’t fucking quit. Always so fucking stubborn. It’s like you couldn’t stay away from me.”

“I couldn’t.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hair tickled your cheeks, his breath fanning over your lips as he held himself over you now. His brows furrowed in concentration as his cock throbbed inside of you. You clenched at the sight of him, looking so pretty and so fucked, and all yours. Because he was. He was it for you.

“Ah, shit.” He whimpered. He wouldn’t last much longer, but Eddie being who Eddie was, you knew he was gonna talk the whole way through it. “You fucking- You broke down every fucking wall I’d ever built. Smashed right fucking through them and straight into my fucking heart. I-I wanted to be good for you. Good enough that you’d want me like I wanted you. You corrupted me.”

“E-Eddie, I think I’m gonna c-cum.” That burning heat had returned but it was different this time. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes. It thrummed every nerve like the string of a guitar, vibrating you to the bone.

“Good.” He said harshly, the word sounding almost mean falling from his red swollen lips, but the fingers stroking your face were still gentle. “I want you to scream for me again. I want everyone in this shitty trailer park, in this shitty fucking town, to know that I’m the one making you feel like this. Crying for my cock, desperate for me.”

You couldn’t handle it, couldn’t see through the tears falling, couldn’t feel anything but him and the white hot pleasure he was gifting to you. You were right there, so fucking close.

“I want them to know that you are mine.” Each word was punctuated with a hard, albeit sloppy, thrust and you came.

You came with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. You felt yourself clench down on him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against you, succumbing to his own orgasm from your vise lock grip on his cock. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he rocked his hips and moaned through it, your name and curses sounding like the sweetest song you’d ever heard.

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned before his body collapsed on top of yours. You could feel his thighs trembling against your own, mirroring the intensity of the feeling you both shared as you came.

The both of you laid there, shrouded in the warmth of each other's embrace, until finally he rolled away. Wincing as he pulled out and discarded the condom. You could only lay there and watch him rise from the bed on shaky legs to grab the half smoked joint from earlier. He placed it between his lips and lit it, standing there in all his naked glory, puffing on it till he could get a nice long hit. The slight skunky smell filled the room and you closed your eyes, relishing in it. But then, you were hit in the chest by something light and lacey.

“For your modesty.” Eddie smirked as you held your purple panties up in the light.

“Thanks.” You croaked, your voice hoarse and your throat sore.

Eddie crawled over you, flopping his sweaty body down next to yours. He handed you the joint, which you took gratefully, taking your own long drag and passing it back. The both of you laid in a comfortable silence, legs draped over each other and his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your bare thigh. But then something occurred to you and you turned your head to look at him.

“I didn’t corrupt you.” You said to him and he rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh.

“Yes, you did.”

“No I did not, asshole.” You guffawed, slapping your hand playfully on his bare chest.

“I wear my seatbelt and listen to fucking Journey because of you. That’s corruption.” He teased with a cute little smirk, grabbing your thigh and squeezing the soft flesh there.

“That’s just safety and taste, baby. If you want me to corrupt you there are… different things I have in mind.” You watched his eyes widen and he laughed.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He said as he leaned in, his lips tasted of you and the weed he had smoked and you smiled behind the kiss, chest full and body sore.

“Hey,” He started as he rested his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you like a little puppy. “You wanna go watch a movie? I can make some Jiffy Pop and we can cuddle on the couch?”

“Who’s picking the movie?” You asked, fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

“I had Steve score me a copy of Poltergeist 2. Picked it up from Family Video while you were at the store earlier.”

You sat up a little, an incredulous look etched into your features while he gave you those damn puppy eyes.

“Eddie, you literally told me two weeks ago that you'd rather be decapitated than watch that movie."

Eddie only shrugged, that casual slouch of his shoulder that you had become so accustomed to, and offered you a pretty smile.

“I would. But you wanted to see it. I'll suck it up, but only for you."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic

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hardboiledleggs · 1 year

Text

Tattoo Artist Eddie Munson Part 2

Part 1 Here!

I could kiss all of you consensually on the mouth, you were so nice about part 1 I cried several times. Here is the long awaited part 2, which I am considering turning into a full length fic on ao3 so if anyone wants to follow me there here it is! Sorry it is so short! This is mostly a stepping stone for my plan for part 3. As always, if anyone would like to be added to my permanent Steddie fic tag list or the tag list for this fic specifically, let me know below :)

~~~

As a general rule, Steve considers himself a confident person. Unfortunately, there’s something about Eddie Munson that reduces him to a nervous, sweaty wreck with decidedly NOT perfect hair. Every time he pulls the now well-worn scrap of paper with Eddie’s number from his pocket, his heart rate jumps to an unhealthy level, and he stuffs it away. This has, of course, royally pissed off Robin Buckley.

“I mean, Jesus Christ, Steve. What is the point of getting a cute guy’s number if you aren’t even going to use it? I think I would have called him more than you have by now, and he doesn’t even have boobies!”

Steve crosses his arms and lets out a disgruntled huff. “Look, I told him some seriously personal stuff, okay? I doubt he even wants me to call him.”

Robin shoots him a deadly glare as she restocks the chocolate chunk ice cream, her stern look tempered slightly by her ridiculous sailor outfit. Scoops Ahoy is an okay place to work, all things considered, but Steve has considered reporting the ice cream shop to the Better Business Bureau for the uniforms alone.

“Why the hell would he give you his number, then? Please don’t be a dingus,” she snorts as she wipes an arm across her sweaty forehead.

“He probably felt bad for me, okay? Seriously. If I had told you that story, you wouldn’t be like ‘Wow, can’t wait to jump his bones!’ You’d think I was a pathetic dude with daddy issues,” Steve groans, flopping forward against the counter. His track record with guys had been, so far, awful. It was hard enough to be a bisexual man in the 80s, let alone in a small town in Indiana. One wrong move, the wrong word, and he could be arrested or worse. It didn’t give a guy a whole lot of confidence.

“For the record, I wouldn’t have wanted to jump your bones regardless, but whatever,” Robin says dryly. Her eyes are soft as she catches his arm. “Just don’t let yourself lose out on something nice ‘cause you’re scared, okay?”

Steve doesn’t look at her as he tugs out of her grip and starts organizing the spoons.

~~~

Eddie Munson has always hated places like the Starcourt Mall. There are always way too many people, too much erroneous noise, and the workers start to follow you around the store if you start touching everything that looks like it might be soft. However, even he cannot deny the hypnotic pull of a brand-new Tower Records shop.

Weaving in between soccer moms and bubblegum-chewing teenage girls, he skids around a corner and gazes above the heads of the crowd, trying to spot the Tower Records logo amongst the perms. Nothing catches his eye except a blue and red neon sign flashing ‘Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor’ across the mall. Figuring there were worse places to take a break and get directions, Eddie shrugs and fights his way through the crowd and steps into the nautical ice cream parlor.

The man at the counter has his back to Eddie, but upon hearing Eddie’s boots squeak on the linoleum he turns and begins to recite sullenly, as if from a drilling manual; “Ahoy, are you ready to set off into an ocean of flavor with me as your capt-“

Steve snaps his mouth shut when he makes eye contact with Eddie. In comparison, Eddie’s mouth is gaping like a beached trout, and he doesn’t seem to have the capacity to shut it, because Steve, “tattoo boy who he had moaned and whined about to Argyle for literal hours” Steve, is standing right in front of him in tiny shorts and a sailor’s hat and is that lip gloss?

His face is on fire, smoke might be coming out of his ears, but he can’t bring himself to look away from the shorts. Apparently, the Scoops Ahoy motto was “Serve ice cream and invade Eddie Munson’s wet dreams for at least a month!” Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot, his discomfort growing as the silence stretches longer. It had been days since they’d met, and Steve hadn’t called once. Wayne had gotten so sick of him asking if he had any messages that he’d threatened to tear the phone out of the wall.

“Well, hiya Stevie. How’d that ink turn out? Thought I might get to hear about it after you left, but I think my phone might be busted? That, or my uncle is lying to me about not getting any messages.” There. False bravado. The tried and true method of any queer man about to get rejected by an obscenely handsome ice cream salesman.

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurts. His hands twitch, as though he wanted to reach across the grimy counter but thought better of it at the last second. “I didn’t know how to call you and… so I didn’t.”

His face is ashen, full lips parted as he breathes. Eddie thinks he might never see a more beautiful thing in his life, but he takes a step back, a false grin stretching his lips into a practiced and careful expression.

“Hey, man, no big deal. I misread things. It happens! You were darling, and I am well-known for my sweet tooth.” He smiles a real smile this time and holds out his hand to shake. “No hard feelings as long as you can point me in the direction of the new record store?”

Steve stares at his ring-clad fingers for too long before he turns and starts to wrestle with the junky cash register on the counter. Something snaps as he yanks it open and fumbles for the receipt paper, tearing off a sheet and beginning to scribble furiously. Eddie is just thinking to himself that this guy must think he’s too stupid to remember one or two sentences of directions when the paper is shoved into his outstretched hand. Steve has scrawled his full name and number in thin, slanted handwriting.

A bubble of hope rises in Eddie’s chest as he stares at the piece of paper in his hand. This isn’t platonic with a capital P. Or at least if it is, the universe is mean and should reevaluate how it operates.

“This way you can call me, because I’m a total chickenshit and am definitely terrified of you,” Steve declares as he gnaws on his bottom lip. “Or if I fucked it up that’s whatever and I get it. The record store is like 15 stores down to the right.” He looks like a puppy someone had kicked and left out in the rain.

“When is your shift over? Or rather, when will you be home and sitting by the phone?” Eddie asks in a breathless rush.

Steve’s face brightens with a shy but triumphant smile. “I’m off at 7, home by 7:15!”

“7:30, loverboy. I need a ride.” The pane of frosted glass behind Steve slides open, revealing a pretty girl in a similar uniform to her coworker, although her outfit isn’t having quite the same effect on Eddie as Steve’s is. Grinning like a hyena, she pulls a whiteboard out from behind her and uncaps a marker, putting a single tally in a column labeled “You Rule” that has thus far remained empty. Steve tosses a waffle cone at her head, which she ducks, before sliding the panel shut once more.

“7:30 then. Got it. Expect my call, big boy,” Eddie bows theatrically. He steps backward, attempting a suave exit, and spins around before he can say anything else horrific and embarrassing like “Need a skipper for your next voyage?”

As he is hurrying out of the shop, he hears a crash and a shout of “Buckley, you are so dead!” Eddie grins and stares down at the phone number in his hand, trip to the record store completely forgotten. Steve Harrington had no idea what he was signing up for.

~~~

If I tag you in error I am so sorry!! Please message me or comment and I will take you off no hard feelings I am super frazzled by the response to this series and very likely have screwed up this list. If I missed your name feel free to absolutely roast me in the comments :) I can take the heat

Tag list (Holy moly here we go) - @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @throwbackthrowaway @vampireinthesun @mightbeasleep @steve-the-hairrington @nelotegreitic @swimmingbirdrunningrock @thehumblefigtree @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @idsellmysoulforsteddie @toobluebrunette @azreadytodie @rainydays35 @luna-munson83 @sl1187 @artiststarme @bethebitch @ultrarainbowunicorn100 @doilooklikebees @this-is-moony-lovegood @impeachy @grimmfitzz @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @maya-custodios-dionach @brassreign @kurumeki @zerokrox-blog @starxlark @chaoticvictorianspirit @2nd-star-2-the-rhgt @adankrivervalleynearyou @yikes-a-bee @e0509 @babyblender @shinekocreator @hope-can-be-your-sword @hellomynameismoo @knitsforthetrail @thegingerrapunzel @blindbisexualgoose @4nemo1egend @piningapple @aceflavouredyougurt @cyranyx @fruitandbubbles @eyesofshinigami @thefreakandthehair @prettyboyandthemetalhead @void-library @steddio @jjoesjonas @vecnuthy @twiggspots @spectrum-spectre @henderdads @sweetcreaturetm @morning-rituals @inmoonywetrust @kyoxyukiforever

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bvtbxtch · 8 months

Text

Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana. The sleepy city that can bring with you the sweetest dreams, or the most terrorizing nightmares.

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Content might not be suitable for all readers (more updates coming)

If you would like to be notified of updates to this series, please add yourself to the taglist!

In collaboration with my love @darknesseddiem

"The quaint mundanity leaves Hawkins, Indiana a forgettable blip on the map. However, it casts a spell on you. Everyone in town has their jobs - go to work, take care of the kids, run their shops or prepare a new pot of coffee for the before-work rush. The neat and tidy form that lies in this sleepy city can make you fall in love, find yourself, or run into much more sinister happenings beneath the surface of the manicured lawns. It's your choice to figure out how to survive."

Jack O'Lantern Kiss - Carving pumpkins with bestfriend!Eddie leads to confessions you may or may not have always wanted to hear. Bestfriend!Eddie x Fem!Reader. Fluff, slight smut

Firestarter - Eddie has just told you he was bi, when the opportunity to explore appears at a bonfire at the Harrington house. Sub!Eddie x Dom!Reader x Switch!Steve. Smut

I Can Make You Scream - Your first collaboration with one of the most popular cam boys, Eddie, leaves you breathless and waiting for the next shoot with him. Camboy!Eddie x Camgirl!Reader. Smut

When It's Cold I'd Like to Die - The only way that Eddie feels he can get you out of the Upside Down safely is to sacrifice himself; but he forgot how stubborn you are. Boyfriend!Eddie x Fem! Reader. Angst, fluff

Paranoid - You watched Eddie make it out of the battle for Hawkins clinging to his life by a thread. Even though he has been acquitted for the crimes he was accused of, and life has gone back to normal, there is something not quite right with your boyfriend. Vecna'd!Eddie x Fem!Reader. Angst, fluff, slight smut

Dead by Daylight - You and Eddie have to stay together to survive your captors, a famous killing family situated on the outskirts of Indianapolis. Victim!Eddie x Victim!Reader. Angst, fluff

On the Line - Pumpkin Pie is back on the menu at Hank's Diner. What happens when the new waitress needs to stay with the Jaded line cook to prepare for fall festivities? Linecook!Eddie x Waitress!Reader. Fluff, smut

Let Me Love You - Eddie comes over to nurse you back to health after catching a cold. Bestfriend!Eddie x Sick!Reader. fluff

Jealous Guy - Steve Harrington is persistent with his advances towards you during the Hideout's Halloween party. Your co-bartender, Eddie, doesn't like the fact that you don't shoot him down right away. Bartender!Eddie x Bartender!Reader. Smut

Live From the Upside Down - There is a special Corroded Coffin show in Hawkins to celebrate Halloween. You've been a devoted fan since your brother, Dustin talked about Eddie and his band back in high school. Seeing the metalhead again stirs up feelings you forgot you had. Rockstar!Eddie x Henderson!Reader. Smut, fluff

Obsession - Eddie's obsession with you has been fun and games - late night drives, hookups and even a couple of dates. He has seemed to cross a line as of late... Ghostface!Eddie x Cheerleader!Reader. Smut

Children of the Corn - A group date in the new Hawkins corn maze sounded amazing to you: Hanging out with Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan sounded like just your night, until your worst enemy is included in the plans. Eddie x Fem!Reader. Smut

Movie Marathon - Years after the Ghost face killer has ended his reign of terror on Hawkins, the local movie theatre has decided to put on a movie marathon of the movies inspired by the killer. You and Eddie decide to go and revel in his glory. Ghostface!Eddie x Fem! Reader. Smut

You Don't Scare Me - Eddie is used to scaring most of the people who walk through the Hawkins Haunted House in the old Starcourt mall. He's determined to make you scream after you walk through and show no signs of being scared by him. Scareactor!Eddie x Grumpy!Reader. Smut

Kiss Me Through the Phone - You nor Eddie could contain your excitement for your homecoming from college for thanksgiving... so much so that you needed a reminder of what you would be getting yourself into when you're back. A phone call would suffice, wouldn't it? Eddie x Fem!Reader. Fluff, Smut

Taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @tony-starks-ego @ohmeg

tagging some friends just for fun: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @hellfiremunsonn @ali-r3n @andvys @eddie-munsons-mullet @changemunson

#eddie munson #stranger things #carly writes #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #kinktober #smut #kinktober 2023 #masterlist #eddie munson enemies to lovers #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things s4 #rockstar eddie munson #steddie x reader #stranger things x reader

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harringtown · 2 years

Text

steve harrington must die - pt 1

did it take me an eternity to finish part 1? yes. but we did it pals!!! welcome to the john tucker must die au!!! right now I've got this plotted at four parts & it'll kinda follow along the s3 timeline!!!

requested by @la-fille-en-aiguilles

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: three of Steve Harrington’s exes set up their former boyfriend to fall in love with the reader, so they can break his heart (aka introductions, general set up, and a laser tag date)

word count: 4.6k

During June in Indiana, there are only a handful of places to escape from the sweltering heat and near-constant dampness that comes along with it. If you’re committed enough and make it to the pool before the crowds descend, a lawn chair in the shade and a dip in the water. If you’re quiet enough, the library’s AC spends its summers rattling and cranking out cool-but-not-cold air.

The best, though, is Starcourt Mall. With its shiny new fixings and fancy appliances, walking into the mall always feels like stepping onto another planet. One where the sun doesn’t declare war on its people during the summers.

Three days into June, and the heat is already unbearable. As such, you spent most of May in the food court or browsing the stores or simply lying on the benches with your friends to avoid going back outside. June, July, and August are looking the same.

Having a mall is already an oddity. The girls you occupy your time with while you’re at the mall is even more odd.

You’d always heard things changed after graduation. You didn’t believe it until now, sitting around bright white food court tables with three girls you wouldn't have been caught dead with in high school, and vice versa. Social circles ran tight at Hawkins High, and it wasn’t until you were all released that you saw them for what they truly were. Or, more technically, until you got stuck in the Starcourt Mall elevator for two hours with them on your first day of summer vacation and came out fast friends.

“Alright, what are our options today, ladies?” Rebecca asks. In high school, she was class president and head of pretty much every club. Today, she stares intently at the food court signs like they’ll change out of her sheer will.

“Exactly the same as yesterday,” says Theresa-call-me-Thea, kicking her shin-high slouched leather boots up onto the plastic table. To her right, Beth swipes her smoothie out of the way just in time to keep it from going flying and shoots Thea a glare.

“We’ve got hot dogs, pretzels, burger king, and the great cookie. Not a single healthy option,” Beth says. Once a star athlete at Hawkins High, her few months of graduation hadn’t yet shaken its hold. Beth is always dressed like she’s heading to a workout or just came from one.

“Don’t even talk to me about the great cookie,” Thea groans. “If I eat another, I will combust.”

“We could just get ice cream,” you say. In over a month’s worth of rotations, Scoops Ahoy hasn’t been factored in once. The girls practically act like it doesn’t exist and have for so long you forgot to question it. “We never do, and that sundae always looks ridiculously good.”

All three girls protest at once.

“Absolutely not,” Rebecca says.

“Not a goddamn chance,” Thea says.

“No way,” says Beth.

You frown, sneaking a glance at the Scoops Ahoy counter. Apart from a manager you’ve only seen once or twice, the only consistent employees are a girl from the year beneath you, and Steve Harrington, once the alleged King of Hawkins High, who now spends his days scooping cones for tweens. Unless there was some rumor about rats in the kitchen, you don’t see any reason for boycotting what is clearly a popular spot.

“What do you people have against ice cream?” you ask.

One side of Beth’s mouth curls up, but the others aren’t impressed.

“Ice cream? Love the stuff. Can’t get enough of it,” Thea says.

“Steve Harrington, on the other hand?” says Rebecca. She shakes her head.

Thea scoffs and folds her arms over her chest. Her bracelets jangle and clack. “That’s one prom photo I will never get back.”

“Homecoming,” Beth says.

“Spring Fling,” Rebecca says with a snort.

“Wait, all three of you—” You start.

“Three months in ‘82,” Thea says, jabbing a finger at Rebecca. “Four at the beginning of ‘83.” She points to Beth. “And a whopping four and a half after that.” She gestures to herself.

“And still breaking hearts from the looks of it,” Beth says.

At the Scoops Ahoy counter, Steve has an exaggerated grin as he talks to two girls as he rings them up. You may not be able to hear the flirting, but you don’t need to.

“Friggin’ Casanova.” Thea huffs. “I mean, I get it, we all get a little too caught up in a boy with cute hair at some point, but Jesus. You’d think he’d run out of girls to work his act on by now.”

“He’ll get his,” Rebecca says. “Just you wait. One day, a girl is going to come along and rip his heart into pieces, just like he did to us. And he won’t even see it coming.”

“Oh, I’d like to see that,” Thea says.

“Ditto,” says Beth.

A silent second passes, and then, three pairs of eyes slide to you.

A wide, mischievous grin pulls on Thea’s dark-red stained lips. “Is anyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

Beth frowns. “Oh, I don’t know about that—”

“Absolutely I am,” Rebecca says.

“Oh, come on, Beth,” Thea says, reaching over to tap on Beth’s wrist. “You can’t tell me you haven’t secretly wished to see that boy get knocked off his high horse for years.”

Beth frowns. “I mean, yes, but—”

“Yeah, so I’m not thinking what you’re thinking,” you say, “and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it's not possible,” Thea says, leaning over the table to stare at Beth. Beth, with visible irritation, rolls her eyes and turns to Rebecca.

“Do not encourage this,” Beth says.

“Encourage what?” you ask. “Seriously, if someone doesn’t start talking, I’m going up to the Scoops Ahoy counter and telling Steve Harrington you all want a sundae delivered right to the table by him, personally.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Thea says.

Beth leans her forearms into the table, nudging Thea’s boots aside.

“They’re talking about getting even,” Beth says. “Breaking Steve Harrington’s heart and using you to do it.”

“Using is such a negative word,” Thea says.

“We could do it, though,” Rebecca says. “The three of us combined, we know him better than anyone. What he likes, what he doesn’t. We could make the perfect girl. Or, perfect for Steve Harrington.”

“That’s insane,” you say. “If it were someone else—If I were someone else—maybe, but...”

“You’re pretty much the only one who can do it,” Rebecca says. “You’re our very own trojan horse.”

“Weren’t you the one who was complaining about being bored out of their mind?” Thea asked. “Having nothing to do?” The excitement in her voice is persuasive in itself. It’s one of the things you like best about Thea. To her, anything is an adventure to embark on or a mystery to solve. “Think about it. You’d go down in Hawkins history.”

“She’s exaggerating,” Beth says. She purses her lips. “But she’s not wrong.”

“Aha!” Thea claps once. “And we’ve swayed the jury, ladies and germs.”

“It’s not up to me,” Beth says. “It’s up to you.” Beth nods at you.

“So?” Thea asks. She props her elbows on the table and leans her chin into her hands, waggling her dark brows. “Are you in? Tell me you’re in.”

You look between them.

Without a mission, albeit stupid, ridiculous, and destined to fail, the rest of the summer will be just like it has been. Every day as boring and uneventful as the last.

And maybe breaking Steve Harrington’s heart won’t put you in the history books. But it is something, and clearly, it’s important to the girls.

“I’m in,” you say.

And so, after three days of surprisingly intense preparation by Thea, Beth, and Rebecca, you don’t head to the usual spot to meet up with the girls. Instead, you make your way through the crowded food court—the lunch rush is in full swing, and you swear half the town is in line for shriveled corn dogs or oily pizza.

Steve Harrington stands at the ice cream counter, just like he does every day.

Back in school, your familiarity with him was more of a know-of-him type. The first two and a half years, his name carried through the halls daily. Then Billy Hargrove moved to town. One day the boys came to school with bright bruises and fresh cuts, and in an instant Billy’s name climbed above Steve’s.

After that, you didn’t hear much about Steve Harrington.

Only a few customers are waiting at the ice cream counter, and within two minutes, it’s your turn at the front.

“Be with you in a sec!” Steve calls, momentarily busy wiping up the melted sample someone spilled on the ice cream case.

He is immediately not what you expected, though the uniform doesn’t help. The bright blue sailors uniform and clunky white hat aren’t exactly doing him any favors in upholding his reputation. He looks more like the boy next door than the king of Hawkins High.

He doesn’t look as perfect as he once did, either. His nose has clearly been broken, probably more than once, and a handful of little scars catch in the fluorescent lights.

“Sorry about that,” Steve says, tossing the blue-stained napkins into the trash and turning to face you. “I swear, some of these kids were raised by actual wolves—” He stops as his eyes catch yours, mouth open mid-sentence like someone reached in and plucked the words out. He clears his throat, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he might be blushing. “What can I get ya?”

Your heart races, and not for the first time, you wonder if you’re even capable of this. If you’re the right choice for this little mission. But you’re at the counter, so there’s no turning back now.

“Can I get a scoop of the U.S.S. Butterscotch?” you ask, willing your voice not to waver. “Apparently it’s the best ice cream in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s out of this world,” Steve says.

Steve isn’t the only one surprised when you laugh—you’re surprised, too. Surprised that he made such a dorky joke, and surprised that it’s actually kind of funny.

“Don’t hype it up too much,” you say. “Your tip depends on it.”

Steve snorts a laugh. A line forms between his brows. He tugs an ice cream scooper out of his pocket and flips it over his wrist—a mindless action that, weirdly, grabs your attention and holds it. Holds it tight enough you don’t hear what he says next, and ask, “What?” far too loud.

A lopsided grin forms on his lips. “I know you,” he repeats.

You frown. Shit. It figures. Three minutes into the con, and your cover is already broken.

“Miss Harrison’s class. Senior year.”

Relief pushes a breath out of you, and you force a nervous smile—the nerves don’t need to be faked.

“I can’t believe you remember me,” you say.

He shifts back a bit, still smiling, like he’s shocked you’re even asking.

“Of course, I remember you. You sat right in front of me. I spent a year staring at the back of your head.”

“So, if I’d have walked up backwards, you’d have recognized me immediately?”

“Oh, no doubt,” Steve says.

You laugh, and though you know you’re supposed to, you don’t have to fake it. Steve laughs, too, and when the laughter fades, the pair of you just smile at each other for a little too long.

“Hey! Harrington! We have ice cream needs back here!” A young girl with her friends sidles up beside you, apparently familiar with Steve or just confident, or both.

Steve takes a breath and gives you an expression that makes it seem like you’re both in on some inside joke. It’s almost impressive how quickly he managed to turn you from strangers into allies.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Sinclair. You’ll get your ice cream. Hold your damn horses,” Steve calls. He gives you an apologetic smile. “That’ll be $1.25.”

You nod, digging a bill and a quarter out of your pocket and handing it over. Steve’s fingers brush yours as he takes the money, and it feels like a moment right out of those cheesy films Rebecca is obsessed with, but your heart skips a beat anyway.

Steve tucks the money into the register and holds out a receipt.

Before you lose your nerve, you ask, “Do you have a pen?”

Steve frowns but digs a pen out of his pocket and passes it to you. He says nothing, but as you scrawl the digits onto the paper, his eyes go wide.

“What is—” He starts.

“My number,” you say, shoving the receipt back across the counter. You flash a smile. “You should use it.”

His frown deepens, and then, in an instant, transforms into a smile that even manages to convince you, at least for a moment, of its genuineness. Before you do something stupid, like fall for it, you turn and walk away, heart still pounding against your ribs.

“Well, well, well, Popeye,” Robin announces as she shoves open the flimsy divider between the front and back of the shop. She slaps her whiteboard on the counter, uncapping her pen. “I think you just earned yourself the first tally for this side of the board.”

Steve rolls his eyes, grabbing the receipt—your receipt—from the counter and tucking it gently in his pocket.

“Thank you, captain obvious,” he says, and hopes Robin can’t tell he’s blushing.

To his infinite relief, Robin only teases him about it for a few minutes, and the lunch rush saves him. He spends the rest of his shift thinking about the two minutes you stood at the counter.

It feels different. It feels like, maybe, finally, it might be real.

“Steve Harrington has officially taken the bait, ” Thea says, throwing herself onto Beth’s bed. Beth, sitting against the headboard, draws her legs out of the way just in time to prevent Thea slamming into them. She purses her lips but doesn’t chide Thea.

Rebecca slides across the floor on the rolling desk chair, leaning her arms over the back of it. “Where’s he taking you?”

You take the open spot at the end of Beth’s bed, pulling your legs up under you. “No clue. He said it was a surprise.” You cock a brow. “What are the chances he’s taking me somewhere to murder me?”

Thea snorts. “He may be a lady-killer, but he’s not an actual killer.”

“Never say lady-killer again,” Rebecca says.

“Lady-killer.” Thea grins. “Lady—”

Beth reaches down to swat at Thea’s shoulder. Thea laughs, craning away.

“Focus,” Beth says. “Y/N is going into the lion’s den tonight.”

You frown. So far, Steve Harrington isn’t the playboy he’s been made out to be. To be fair, you’ve only had two interactions with the boy since high school. And the girls actually knew him.

“He’s just a guy,” you say.

“A guy who probably doesn’t know how to do his own laundry,” Rebecca says.

Thea lets out a dramatic sigh. “Those are always the most dangerous ones.”

Steve doesn’t take you into the lion’s den. He still won't tell you exactly where you’re going, but when he pulls into the parking lot of a decent restaurant, some of your fear dissipates.

“Italian food?” you ask, as he puts the car in park.

He flashes you a grin, and says, “Someone’s impatient.”

“More like, making sure you’re not kidnapping me.”

He snorts. “I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you’re 18.” He arches a brow at you. “And do you really think I’m organized enough to pull something like that off?” He shakes his head. “Besides, my trunk is way too small.”

“I mean, no, I don’t think you are—“

Steve feigns offense, a hand flying to his chest, and he gasps.

“But I’d be stupid to put it past you.”

To your surprise, Steve just smiles.

“For the record,” he says, popping open the driver’s side door, “we’re not getting Italian food. And I’m not kidnapping you.” He slides out of the car and shuts his door, but before you’ve even undone your seatbelt, Steve is opening the passenger side door for you.

You know it’s all part of the act, but there’s nothing in his eyes that justifies that. All you can see is a bouncy, nervous boy opening the door for his date.

He’s more dangerous than you realized, because he doesn’t appear to be.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you climb out of the car, Steve nudging the door shut after you.

“So, if we’re not getting Italian food, what exactly are we doing here?” you ask.

A mischievous grin pulls on his lips.

“We,” he says, “are playing laser tag.”

And against your better judgment, against everything you told yourself before going into this, you smile back.

The laser tag place, appropriately named Laser Tron, is busier than one might expect on a random Thursday night, and apart from you and Steve, no one is older than fourteen.

And though the teams are split evenly before heading into the room, the second you pass through the door, it becomes two on everyone else, with the younger kids splitting off to one side of the dark, neon-splashed room, and you and Steve heading for the other side.

The room has two stories, with dozens of walls and objects to hide behind, and green, pink, and blue paint scattered across the walls and floors. You’re sporting a bulky, worn vest, and a massive plastic gun, and once again, despite all your preparations, you’re surprised to find you’re already having fun. Steve helps you into your vest, and his fingers linger at the top of the zipper, thumbs grazing the hollow of your throat, and you try and convince yourself it’s adrenaline, not him, that makes your pulse leap.

With one minute until the game begins, you and Steve find a spot in the far corner, back to back.

“You ready for this?” Steve asks, his shoulders bumping yours. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I think I’d prefer Italian food,” you say.

Steve snorts a laugh, and says, “Too late for that now.”

“You do realize we’re, like, the oldest people here, right?”

“Which means we’ve got the advantage,” Steve says.

“Us against fifteen pre-teens? I don’t know about that.” You raise your laser gun in preparation. “I think we’re screwed.”

Steve laughs again, and it’s an infectious sound. His energy, the shifting weight and fast breaths, is infectious, and again, you forget the whole reason you’re here.

“We’ll see about that,” he says.

Then the buzzer starts, a dozen children scream with delight, and the game begins.

“Go, go, go!” Steve yells, his gun in one hand, your fingers held tight in the other. You race up the stairs with him, twisting to fire a laser shot toward the trio of twelve year old’s pursuing you.

An OUT buzzer rings, and one of the kids curses just as you and Steve reach the top of the stairs. He pulls you sideways, down the neon walkway, firing as he goes.

“Behind you!” You say, ducking under Steve’s raised arm to fire at the teen coming down the hall. His buzzer rings, and he groans, his gun smacking his side.

Steve drags you behind a wall, and you skid, falling into him, pinning him against the wood. The only thing between you is the thick fabric of the vests, but you can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Time slows. His eyes find yours, and his irises are blown, and the crown of his hair shines with sweat, and his gaze darts down to your lips, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s going to kiss you. For a moment, you want him to.

Then his eyes dart over your shoulder, and in one swift motion, he slips an arm around your waist, spins you around, presses you against the wall, and raises his gun to fire at someone around the corner. A buzzer rings, and Steve catches your gaze again, grinning lopsidedly.

You let out a harsh breath, and push out of his arms, pretending you’re adjusting your vest.

“How many are left?” you ask.

Steve leans to each side, scanning the aisles and the floor below, his brows furrowed.

“I wanna say… six? Maybe seven?”

“God, it’s like they’re multiplying,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up,” he says.

“Not a chance.”

“Good,” Steve says. “Because we’ve got three pre-teen girls headed our way, and they look pretty pissed.”

“Guess we should do something about that,” you say.

Steve grins, and takes your hand, and you let him. And for a little while, you forget why you’re not supposed to.

The game lasts another twenty minutes, and to your utter shock, you and Steve’s duo comes out on top. And you know you should probably feel bad about kicking a bunch of thirteen year old’s asses, but as you and Steve head out into the warm night, all you feel is giddy. Like you’re drunk, but you haven’t had a touch of alcohol.

Steve has an arm around your shoulder, and he smells like sandalwood and aftershave, and in the moonlight, he doesn’t look like everything you’ve been told he is. The last hour, and he’s been nothing like you’ve been told he is.

He only lets you go to open the passenger door for you, and though you tell yourself this is only part of the game, you still blush as he shuts it after you. Blush until he comes around the front and climbs into the driver’s seat.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him until he frowns, and asks, “What?”

You shake your head. “How the hell are you so good at that?”

An almost sheepish smile flashes across his lips.

“I mean, they were a bunch of kids. We got lucky.”

“Oh, no, we absolutely did not,” you say. “That was… incredible. Like, you have no right to be as good at laser tag as you are.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he says. And when you roll your eyes, he continues, “Seriously. You kicked ass in there.”

“You did most of the work. What, were you a soldier in some past life?”

An indecipherable emotion flickers across his face, and you can’t begin to read it, but it makes your insides ache, opens some unknown door in your chest. It feels like seeing behind some big curtain, but before you can identify what you see, Steve is smiling again, and turning on the engine.

It’s a clear and unofficial end of conversation, but you don’t mind. With each foot the car pulls away from the plaza, your friends' voices pop back into your head. The stories they told of the weeks or months it took to get over him.

Shame coils in your gut, hot and sharp.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you’re the wrong person to do this. Maybe you have no goddamn clue what you’re doing, and you’re just going to get hurt.

But as Steve pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the road, tossing a soft smile your way, you realize that maybe none of that matters. Because maybe it’s too late.

Steve makes conversation as he drives you home, asking questions about your summer and your family and your pets and your future plans, and he seems to actually want to know the answers.

And you surprise yourself by asking questions back. About how he ended up working at Scoops (his dad is an asshole, and Steve didn’t get into college) and about the girl, Robin, he’s always with (from the way he talks about her, you don’t think there’s anything romantic there, but you’re not sure) and about what he wants to do with his life (he has no clue, which is an odd relief, because you have no clue, either).

It’s all painfully and beautifully normal until Steve turns into your neighborhood, and the car slides past the Holland house. It’s been two years since Barbara Holland disappeared from Steve’s backyard. Two years since the cops started looking, and a year since they stopped.

The car slows down just enough for you to notice, and when you look over, Steve has the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. His gaze is locked on the house.

Your brain rifles through everything it has regarding Barbara Holland in relation to Steve Harrington. Barbara and Nancy Wheeler were attached at the hip for most of high school, and when Nancy and Steve started dating, that didn’t change.

“You were friends with her, right?” you ask, knowing you’re poking the bear, and unable to stop yourself.

“What?” His response comes a little too fast, and his voice is a little too high.

“With Barb. Before she…” You clear your throat.

“No,” Steve says. “I wasn’t.” And his tone is harsh, a clear ending to the conversation before it even starts.

“But I thought—”

“I said no,” Steve snaps. “Just… drop it.” He rakes a hand through his hair, and his entropy changes. He is rigid and cold. He’s not the boy from the laser tag place, the one who opened your door for you.

The spell that’s been broken doesn’t rise again, and the last two minutes of the drive to your house are silent and awkward. By the time Steve pulls into your driveway, the tension in the car is so thick, you could slice through it.

Steve kills the engine and is out of the car and opening your door before you have your seatbelt undone, once again. But he doesn’t meet your eyes, and his jaw is clenched, and he doesn’t put his arm around you again. He walks to your door, and when you turn to face him, his smile is so plastic, you think it would crinkle if he moved.

“That was fun,” you say, because you’re not sure what to do with the silence, because you’re desperate to fill the seconds until you can get inside the door.

“Yeah, it was,” Steve says. You don’t have to know him that well to see he’s distracted. He glances over his shoulder as if he expects to find something running up behind him. He catches your eye again, clearing his throat. “Have a good night, y/n.”

And then he’s turning, heading back down the drive, climbing into his car. He’s gone so fast, you can do nothing but stand on the porch and watch as his car grows smaller and smaller, until it turns down the street and disappears.

Your stomach churns and lurches as you unlock your front door and slip into the dark house. To your eternal relief, your family is already in bed, and you don’t have to suffer the third degree. You’re already guaranteed it from the girls at the mall tomorrow.

You had fun with Steve tonight. A lot of fun. More fun than you’ll ever admit to Beth, Thea, and Rebecca.

But the Steve that dropped you off is different from the one you spent the night with, and he is the whole reason you’re here in the first place. The cruel, cold tone. The refusal to meet your eyes, like he’s too good to do so. The flippancy with which he left, like he hadn’t just taken you on the best date of your life.

You’re here to break Steve Harrington’s heart.

No, not to break it. You’re here to shatter it. Pulverize it. Break it beyond repair, the way he’s done to so many girls.

Game on, Harrington.

#Brooke writes fic #jtmd au #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington au #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things imagine #x reader

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theladybarnes · 1 year

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CHERRY BOMB: CHAPTER TWO

“You know that means you suck.”

▸ summary: things are changing and the line for you is getting blurry ▸ characters: steve harrington, robin buckley, billy hargrove, ft. the party ▸ word count: 5.4k ▸ warnings: angst, making out, fluff, semi-angst ▸ series masterlist

The shining blue light of Starcourt Mall’s logo shined over the large parking lot that summer night. Giving just enough light for you to find the perfect parking spot near the front entrance. Which definitely helped improve your mood.

You didn’t know two weeks ago that starting up a job at the Hawkin’s Community Pool would be so exhausting. At first, it felt like a blast! Your partner Heather was nice, the pay was pretty good (though it was nothing compared to the monthly allowance), and you got the chance to work on a pretty good tan. But it could only be so good before Hawkins found a way to ruin it.

The kids were wild, their parents were too lazy tanning, or worse, hitting on you, and the worst problem of it all was the one coworker you had to face four days a week; Billy Hargrove.

You still blamed Steve for having not set an alarm the morning you two were supposed to sign up to work at the pool. Ignoring the fact that you weren’t supposed to be spending the night at his house anyway. But after he had invited you over to practice how to be a lifeguard with his pool, and getting each other riled up, the two of you couldn’t help but get distracted that night. Especially when his parents weren’t home till the next night.

Billy beat the two of you the next day by twenty whole minutes. And if it weren’t for his recommendation, you wouldn’t even have gotten the spot at all. Unfortunately, Steve had to find another job this summer. Which is where you found yourself now.

Exiting your car, you can’t help but shoot an adoring smile at the red vehicle. It was definitely a nice surprise for your Father to send the car for the summer. Insisting that you were doing so well you deserved a big reward. The bright red paint of your 944 porsche shined nicely under the Indiana sun and especially under the Starcourt sign’s blue tint. It was your most prized possession. And it drove your friend crazy.

“Hey Henderson!”

You had just walked towards the entrance of the mall when you heard a familiar voice call out to you. Turning around, you notice Will, Max, and Lucas waiting by the entrance, waving at you from the bus stop.

“What are you weirdos doing here?” you smiled, taking a step over to them.

“We’re waiting for Mike to come join us at sneaking in for the preview of the Day of the Dead.” Will sighed, leaning against the pillar as he checked over the parking lot again. “And he’s late apparently.”

“He’s late because he’s too busy swapping spit with El.” Lucas huffed with a cross to his arms. “It’s like the third time this week.”

Your face soured at his wording, but you quickly shook your head. Trying not to be so judgemental over new things for the kids. “They’re just new to relationships guys.” A group of boys entering the mall stop mid way when they notice you standing by the entrance. Their eyes immediately go to your chest, locked on the sight of your uniform. Rolling your eyes, you reach for the front of your hoodie and zip up. “How are you guys gonna get into that movie anyway?”

Will turned to face you, giving you a knowing smirk as he leaned in towards you. “We’re going to rely on your boyfriend to sneak us in the back again.” Something tells you that Jonathan might be a reason why Will was so confidently speaking that way.

“Oh God.” you groaned, “First of all, We’re just friends.” The three of them turned their faces into skeptical frowns which you chose to ignore as you went on. “Second, you guys are gonna get everyone in trouble if you keep doing that.” Placing your hands on your hips you look over them with a small frown. “Steve really needs this job so don’t mess this up for him.”

“Relax, Henderson, we’re not gonna make your stupid boyfriend lose his job, we promise.” Max sighed, fanning her face a bit from the summer heat. The other two boys nodded in agreement.

“He is not my boyfriend” you huffed before calming yourself down. It wasn’t their fault that the boyfriend topic felt more sensitive to you these days. “Look, I’ll be here for a while so if you guys don’t wanna ride the bus home with the other sweaty movie goers, then be here in two hours.”

They gave off a chorused response as you swiftly turned to head inside the mall. The familiar sensory overload of various scents and sounds that come from the mall hit you instantly. It’s oddly reminiscent of home and you found yourself these days feeling a little bit relaxed as you went through the waves of people.

You stopped by The Gap, very much needing to do a little retail therapy after your long day. And after buying that top you had been looking at the other day, you make a final stop at the Orange Julius and pick up a drink before heading to the center of the food court.

Crowds of people going in and out are what you meet when you make it down the escalators. It was crazy how the mall brought out all sorts of people from Hawkins. You didn’t even realize how many people actually lived there until it opened up.

The nautical tune that constantly plays through the day greets you as you enter inside Scoops Ahoy. Up at the register is the annoyed familiar face you had been hoping to see first.

“Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. Let us take you on an adventure of flavor and- please don’t make me say the whole thing again, Henderson.”

You can’t help but giggle at Robin’s plea, leaning over the countertop to pass her the drink you bought along the way. “Feel free to break character.” You urged.

“Thank you!” She sighed, reaching out for the drink. “It’s been so busy today and I don’t think I can take another trip down the U.S.S. Butterscotch.” She took a long sip from the cup before nodding at you. “Your kids just came by to get some help.”

“Oh that’s good. I had to get a little shopping done, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi.”

Robin stared at you almost eerily similar to how the kids did outside. “So you didn’t come all the way over here to hang out with Dingus?”

“Who Steve?” you snorted, waving off your hands. “I didn’t even know if he’s working tonight.”

As if he had the most impeccable timing, coming through the side door from the back was the man himself, carrying a tin filled with rainbow sprinkles. He was stabbing the product with a plastic spoon when he looked up to find you at the counter.

“Hey, Trouble. Max told me you’d be coming by.” He walked past Robin who had a sort of sly smirk on her face as he placed the container down in the toppings bar. “You know these kids are really gonna get me in trouble one of these days. One of them is bound to slip up.”

He continued on ranting, fixing stuff around his store while you tried to ignore Robin’s knowing gaze. It isn’t until he’s done with whatever task he had that he finally joined you two at the counter.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he looked you over, making you feel even more focused on by Robin. “Glad you’re here. Was wondering if you got my message to come by tonight.”

“Message?” You asked, acting like Heather didn’t pass along the message when you clocked in that afternoon. “Can’t say I heard anything about a message.” Lifting up your bag, you playfully wave in front of them. “I came by and got that top I had been looking at.”

“Oh,” Steve said softly. Sounding a little bit disappointed. “Uh, that’s cool.”

You tried very much to hold back on wincing at that. Not having wanted Steve to feel like you didn’t want to see him. But Robin’s hard gaze was making you suddenly so nervous to admit to anything otherwise.

Thankfully a couple of customers stepped into the store, making the two of them become alert as you stepped aside to let the people through. It’s not until Robin has taken their order that you find yourself relaxing a bit.

“I am sticking around for a bit. Might as well wait for the brats to finish up.” You shrugged while still playing it cool but hopefully more open for Steve.

“Look at you starting your nice streak.” Steve mused, leaning forward to scoop out some ice cream. “Might be waiting a bit. The movie is like two-“

Suddenly all the lights in the store go out. Breaking everyone into a light murmur of concern. You turn around and notice that it’s actually the whole mall that’s gone out and not just Scoops.

“That’s weird.” You heard Steve say, walking closer to the counter. You notice just about all the appliances have turned out.

“It’s creepy.” you mumbled, feeling a chill crawl up your spine a bit.

Steve walked over towards the store light, lazily flicking it off and on a couple of times. Robin, who even in the dark looked irritated by the action, joined Steve. “That isn’t gonna work, dingus.” she sighed.

“Oh really?” Challenged Steve. He kept his face neutral before pushing the flicker between his two fingers, rapidly turning it off and on now. You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous antics, shaking your head as you move to lean in towards them.

“I feel like I’ve seen you do something like that a lot faster, Harrington.” You hummed. The innuendo caused Steve to nearly mess up in his flicking. Just as quickly as the lights all around went out, the mall began to spring back to life again.

Steve took a glance over at you, giving a quick wink before he faced Robin again. “Let there be light.” he said, holding his hands up. Robin is left shaking her head, still annoyed with the guy as he moved on to finish up the order they were working on.

It’s not until the customers leave that he snapped his fingers to you. “Strawberry with sprinkles on top?” Something warm bloomed in your chest at that, making you clear your throat a bit before nodding your head. Had he really memorized your order from the one or two times you’ve actually had ice cream here?

He grabbed a cone for you, making sure to make the scoop perfect before he leaned on the counter to pass it over. “Any idea what you’re going to do while you wait out the movie?”

You moved to rest against the counter with him. Dangerously close to his face that you think you might be smelling the cherry chapstick that’s covering his lips right now. “Well,” you started, giving the side of the ice cream a slow lick.

“I could probably go back to shopping but I’d rack up some pretty hard charges. There’s always just hanging around the food court.” Your eyes caught attention to the fact that Steve’s were solely focused on your mouth now. Taking another lick, you go slower this time, watching as his lips parted slightly.

Huh.

“I was also invited by Mike Lewinski to hang out by the fountain with his friends. Apparently they’re all super cool and wanna get to know me.” you said simply.

That seemed to throw Steve off, making him nearly slip forward on the counter before he caught himself. “Mike Lewinski?” he gaped, adjusting the hat on his head. “The guy who could barely make a free throw?”

You waved your hand, turning your head back towards the food court to hide the amusing smile that’s fighting to come on your lips. “C’mon, Steve. We both know I don’t pay attention to things like that. Besides,” turning back to him, you give off your best fake pout. “I won’t have anything else to do.”

Steve flicked his tongue over his lips, shifting his gaze from your eyes and your mouth. “Right,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Can’t have that.” Grabbing the hat off his head, he chucked it beneath him and quickly jumped over the counter, making you gasp a bit as he suddenly landed in front of you. “Robin, I’m taking my break!”

Grabbing your hand, he began to drag you out the front of the store, making you giggle as you tried to keep up with his speed. The two of you could barely hear Robin’s warning as you exited the store.

“BE BACK IN FIFTEEN MINUTES, DINGUS!”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

“Robin’s really gonna kill you.”

You let out another gasp as Steve sucked harder on the spot underneath your earlobe. The sensation was making your entire body feel ablaze with excitement and you cursed yourself for letting him mark you in such a delicious way.

The two of you were practically on top of each other in the small photo booth near the escalators. The photos you had teased him into taking were developed long ago, waiting patiently for the two of you to grab in the developer pocket. But after giving Steve a sneaky peck in the last one, the two of you ended up turning the innocent photos into a hot sneaky makeout session.

“I really don’t care.” Steve mumbled against your skin, letting his teeth nip at the vein on your neck. His hands are gripped at your hips, trying to tug you closer onto his lap but you’re doing your best to keep you two from doing anything too brazen in the middle of the mall.

Bringing your hands up, you push lightly against the front of his chest, making him pout a bit as he still bent forward to try and bury his face into your neck again. You giggled at his attempt, moving one hand to cup the side of his face to bring his gaze back up. “Steve,” you laughed, “I’m serious.”

He only took that as a challenge, smirking a bit before he leaned in to press his lips against yours. The taste of his lips has you rolling your eyes a bit as you enjoy the lingering taste of your ice cream that he finished off for you. Having him in this kind of way was becoming too addicting.

Needing air, you pulled back again, covering up his mouth with the palm of your hand to keep him at bay. He mumbled against your palm before reaching up to pull your hand down. “It’s not like it matters if I’m late again, she knows to cover for me.”

“It’s not that I don’t think she won’t cover for you, it’s just she just shouldn't have to.” Reaching out, you gently finger combed a bit of his hair, noticing it was a bit crazy from having run your hands through it. “I don’t want her to hate us.”

“No one can hate you.” he said softly, reaching up to rub his thumb at your bottom lip. You give it a light peck instinctively and Steve sees that as a sign to kiss you again. Luckily, you pull away in time to open up the small curtain that gave you guys the little privacy you had.

“Come on, your highness, your scooping awaits.”

Getting out of the booth first, you hold your hand out for him to follow, smirking a bit when you hear him grumble under his breath. Turning around, you’re about to walk towards the path of scoops when Steve called out for you.

“We almost left these here.”

Looking at his hands, you smile down at the four black and white photos of the two of you. The first couple are just normal ones with you guys making silly faces. It’s the last ones that catch your eyes.

The second to last had you staring over at Steve with such a fondness that you were surprised he didn’t say anything. But it oddly felt reminiscent of the photos Jonathan had taken of you two at Steve’s party. The last one is of the kiss that triggered the makeout session. It’s only a simple kiss on the cheek, but Steve’s grin has your heart beating faster at the sight.

“Here, you can have the top two, I want these.” Steve said, pointing to the ones that caught your eyes. He’s about to tear it half when you snatch it out of his hands.

“And what if I wanted those? My hair looks great.” you said, hoping not to sound too eager for them.

“C’mon, my hair looks great here too. Before you went and messed it all up.”

You stifled a giggle that wanted to come from seeing the pout on his face. “I’ll tell you what, if you want these two so bad you’ll come by house tonight after work.”

“Oh yeah? You want me to sneak over?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. Yes. The thought is so loud you think you almost said it. But you know better than to come off so eager and needy. So you merely nod in reply.

“Aunt Claudia will be snoring away and Dustin won’t be back from camp until tomorrow.”

Steve seemed to ponder that over, bringing a hand up to cup at his chin in feign thought. Taking a step closer, you lean up on the tip of your toes to whisper in his ear. “Maybe then you can convince me to give them to you.”

He shuddered a bit from that, looking at you with a familiar dark look in your eyes that has your body getting hot again before he nodded his head. “I’ll be there.” he murmured, looking down at your lips. You can’t help but shake your head before you look around you both for any watchful eyes. Once clear, you quickly press a kiss to his lips, pulling back in time before he can deepen.

“Don’t keep me waiting late, Harrington.”

Turning on your heels, you move over towards the escalator, stepping onto the one leading back upstairs. You watch as Steve slowly steps back out towards the direction of the food court with just a little more jump in his step.

It turned out that Steve would end up making you wait longer than you expected. After waiting up hours for Steve to come sneak by, you eventually had to call over to his house. Instead of getting an answer from Steve, you had an awkward short conversation with his Mother. She informed you that he had passed out on his bed hours ago, left only in jeans and one sock on.

The following day didn’t help either, with having stayed up for nothing, you were determined to have a better new day at work. Only to find out that your regular partner Heather had switched shifts with someone.

Well, not just someone.

“Look, I’m sorry if working with your ex is uncomfortable, but I really needed the afternoon off.”

You don’t look back at Heather as you adjust the straps of your bathing suit. The anger on your face was too evident and you didn’t want to be so harsh to a girl that didn’t know a hundred percent why you hated Billy so much.

“I know, Heather.” you sighed, reaching for the sunblock in your bag. “I just wish you had given me a heads up. I could have called off sick or something.”

“I’m sorry!” she whined again, holding up her two hands. “I promise it won’t be so bad. Just leave him to the Hawkins Moms and he’ll be distracted.”

A heavy frown tugged easily at your face. The Mothers that decided to drag their kids to the pool just ogle at Billy was certainly another tally against working here. It’s like they didn’t care that he was most of their children’s ages or the fact that they were married.

“Ew, don’t remind me.”

“Look, I know how I can make it up to you.” Heather clapped, handing you the mandatory fanny pack. “Tonight a lot of us are heading over to Starcourt. We’re gonna hang out by the fountain and maybe see a movie.”

You strap in the fanny pack before looking back up at her. “The mall?” A part of you is slightly dreading the idea of going back another night, but you think about how maybe you might get the chance to see Steve again. But then again, he did sort of bail out on you. “I don’t know..”

“I promise it’ll be fun. I know for sure that Kurt Michaels and Zack Chapman want to hang out with you.”

“I do too, they gave me their numbers the other day.”

“See! Even better.”

You want to give her a bit more grief, knowing that even promising a fun time tonight wouldn’t be worth the four hours working with Billy in your rotation. But you’re still attempting to turn a new leaf here so you give her a small smile and pat her arm. “I’ll come by for a bit after work.”

“You’re the best!” she grinned, wrapping an arm around you. “Now go show those Moms who’s the real babe of the pool!”

Leaving the optimistic Heather to change out of her suit for the day, you slowly pushed your way out of the girls locker room. The bright sunlight hits your face instantly and you bring up your hand to cover your eyes as you scan over the pool.

The usual residents of Hawkins are all there. Including some of the more unfavorable ones like a couple of the Dads that liked to ask you questions. But you ignored all the gazes of those who had no tact to make your way over to the lifeguard chair.

Billy, who lazily rested his head against his hand, perked up the moment he saw you. It wasn’t until you were at the foot of the ladder that he quickly climbed off. Peeling his glasses off his eyes to give you a once over.

“You get the pleasure of working with me today, Babydoll.”

“Yeah, Billy. It’s been a real dream of mine to work with you.”

He chuckled lightly, leaning against the leg of the chair as he blocked your way up. “I promise I’ll be a good partner. I’ll even bring you a soda when I come back from break to help beat this sun.”

“Please make sure it’s Clorox flavored.” you smirked, pushing past him a bit to climb up. A heat rushes to your face when you realize he still stayed in the same spot, getting a close up look of your rear before you sat down.

“You’ll warm up to me again.” he shrugged, looking over his shoulders to see the Moms still watching him. “Summer seems like a good place for us to start over.” His focus was still on the women behind him, mostly at Mrs. Wheeler, which you did not want to unpack.

“I think a good place for us is me on this chair, and you back inside and out of my face.”

The coldness in your tone caused his gaze to snap back towards you. “Ouch.” he smiled, leaning back closer to the chair. Despite you being on the higher angle, it still felt like Billy had the higher ground as he carefully reached out to stroke at your leg. “For someone sporting a fresh new hickey, you sure are acting pretty uptight.”

You kick your leg to get his hand off, frowning at his words. “I’m not uptight, I’m annoyed by your presence. Now leave. I need to pay attention to people I actually care about.” Slipping on your sunglasses, you cross your arms and stare out to the pool. Still feeling Billy nearby.

“My offer is still up, Henderson. If ol’ King Steve can’t do the job and make you feel good. I’m always just a call away.”

“Go fuck yourself, Billy.”

He brushed his hand lightly against your leg again before he stalked off cackling as he walked away. This was definitely going to be a long day.

Four hours and a very long shower later, you’re dressed in your new top, jeans, and flats and slowly making your way through Starcourt again. The bright lights and smells of food are not as comforting this time. You’re not so sure what’s going to happen tonight and while hanging out with a semi familiar crowd sounded like fun before, now you realize you’re almost dreading it.

But like the other day, you eventually make your way over to Scoops Ahoy, the nautical tune welcoming you as you slowly step over towards the register. It’s not until you’re behind Anna Jacobi and her friend that you hear bits of the conversation she was having with Steve.

“Ooh, Purdue. Fancy.”

“Yeah, I’m excited.”

The girl sounds genuinely happy to hear someone impressed by her acceptance to the State’s college. But even from where you stood, you could hear the slight jealousy and nerves that came from Steve’s response.

“Yeah, you know, I considered it. Purdue, but then I was like, you know what? I really think I need some real-life experience, you know, before I hit college, see what it feels like.”

You can’t help but feel your jaw drop at Steve’s attempt of..playing it cool? Flirting? This wasn’t at all like the boy you met your first year here.

He continued to ramble on about working a minimum wage job when the machine practically malfunctions before him, making him come off as even more nervous than before.

“Yeah, anyways, this was, like, so fun. We should kind of like, you know, I don’t know, maybe hang out this weekend or–”

He dropped the change into Anna’s hand and you have to look away. Whether it be because of Steve’s embarrassment or your own. A small voice called out to you, and you catch Robin waving you over. Slipping past the attention of the three from the counter, you push past the low swinging door and go towards the back.

“Tell me it’s not always like this.” you begged Robin as you joined her in the back room. She pointed over towards a whiteboard that laid against the wall. It showed what you figured to be a scoreboard of Steve’s attempts to get a date. You’re sad to see it so vastly different from what you imagined.

“This is my favorite part.”

The two of you peek out to watch as Steve calls out to the girls, trying to convince the two of them that it was his first day there.

Grabbing the board, Robin pushed her way to the middle, displaying the counter up for Steve as she unclipped the cap of the felt pen. “And another one bites the dust.” she declared. Steve slowly turned around in defeat, head slightly hung low. “You are oh-for-six, Popeye.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can count.” he said annoyed.

“You know that means you suck.”

“Yep! I can read, too.”

“Since when?” she asked, giving him a slight smirk. You can’t help but lean in, giving Steve a curious look.

“Harrington, what happened? That whole conversation sunk worse than the Titanic.”

“Ooh, good water reference.” Robin mused. Steve sighed heavily in frustration as he came closer to where you two were.

“It’s this stupid hat. I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature.”

“Yeah, company policy is a real drag.”

You turn your head a bit, thinking he didn’t look too bad in the ridiculous uniform. In all honesty, it was kinda cute on him. But you weren’t going to say that just yet. Not when he was already feeling down about himself.

“You know, it’s a crazy idea, but have you considered telling the truth?”

“Oh, you mean, that I couldn’t even get into Tech and my douchebag dad’s trying to teach me a lesson. I make three bucks an hour, and I have no future? That truth?”

“A lot of people don’t get into college sometimes.” you interjected quickly. “Even famous Presidents like Lincoln and Truman didn’t get in and they ran the damn country.” Steve looked over at you with a small thankful smile. “Robin’s right, by the way.”

Just as quickly his smile dropped and you leaned over to pat gently at his hand. “Girls like honesty and while you don’t have to spill the entirety of your problems right now, it might help to start by just saying you’re working for the summer. Start off small.”

“Yeah, or you can continue on with whatever attempts this is.” Robin snorted, making you nudge her to stop.

“Speaking of working. What are you doing here, trouble? Thought you worked?” Steve asked, ignoring his coworker’s teasing.

“Well, after working all day with Billy annoying me, I decided to come here and join some friends.”

The two beside you seemed to perk up a bit before you pointed over towards the food court. Just outside the store you were able to make out Heather and a few other familiar faces as they pointed over to another store.

“Apparently I’m more popular than I thought this summer.”

“Oh,” Steve said, sounding off. “That sounds like a lot of fun.” He leaned back from the counter, giving you a tight lipped smile. “I guess I’ll see you around? Maybe later tonight?”

“Why make plans you’re just gonna bail out on?” you said a bit harshly, noticing Robin slowly back away from the two of you. She pretended to be tending to the board as you leaned in to whisper towards Steve. “I had to talk to your Mom just to find out you fell asleep on me.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even know how tired I was ‘till I got dressed.”

“Whatever.” you shrugged, trying to ignore the way your chest aches a bit. “It’s not like they were official plans or anything. You weren’t obliged to come over.”

“C’mon, Hon–”

“I gotta go.” you interrupted, adjusting your top nervously. This conversation was sounding a little bit too unfriendly, and you were both still trying to be friends still. Things like failed hookups were definitely not on the list of things you could stay mad at. Steve wasn’t yours, and you’d have to keep reminding yourself that.

“I think I made them wait around for me long enough.” You make the mistake of seeing Robin slowly draw another line down the ‘YOU SUCK’ side of the board and bid her a quick goodbye before pushing through the door.

Steve looked at you slightly worried before you reached over for his hand. Squeezing it gently. “We’ll just hang out another time, okay? I’ll bring Dustin around tomorrow. It’s my day off.” He looked a little defeated at the compromise before he gave a tight lipped smile.

“You promise you’re not mad?”

“Nope.”

He looked almost like he didn’t buy it when Robin peeked back out again. “Hey, twelve o’clock.” The two of you turn towards the entrance to see a group of girls enter inside the store. It has you feeling your chest ache more but you push that feeling down when you hear Steve get nervous again. You quickly let go of his hand.

“Oh shit.” Steve muttered. “Okay, I'm going in. Okay? And you know what?” He reached up for his hat, throwing it behind the counter. “Screw company policy.”

“Oh my God, you’re a whole new man.” Robin said lamely, knowing almost where this was going to go.

“Right?” Steve cooed, dancing a bit as he backed away. He shot you one last glance and you gave him a quick thumbs up, wincing to yourself at the stupid response. What the hell were you doing? Steve needed to do his own thing and so did you, which is why you weren’t going to stick around and sulk at Steve trying to move on and finally find himself someone to date.

“Ahoy ladies! Didn’t see you there. Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain. I’m Steve Harrington.”

Maybe you wouldn’t have to worry so much about that date part.

a/n: this was a bit rough to write out. i had to change a couple of things i wanted to do to make sure it didn’t move at a bad pace. but i hope you guys enjoy it still. these two are super complicated 🥲

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x female reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #cb

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dadsbongos · 2 years

Text

starcourt massacre - 1986

Stranger Things x Horror Movie Collection

American Psycho / Halloween / Scream / Friday the 13th / Fear Street / Jennifer’s Body

warnings - descriptions of wounds/violence (blood n gore n such (EXTREME, i'm not kidding)), not very billy friendly, fear street au

summary - Hawkins, Indiana, is cursed. With people being slaughtered in the streets and their own homes, the Starcourt mall becomes a quick hunting ground for this curse that you and your friends now have to try and survive.

Six months is a long time to be dating when you’re a teenager, and while Steve is more than happy to celebrate that, you and Robin are further prone to encouraging the honeymoon behavior. Though, that’s more often because the both of you like teasing Steve, not actual compassion for Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair’s blossoming romance.

Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that Scoops Ahoy! was the designated date spot for the two to celebrate their six-month anniversary. Closing time is in a short two minutes and you’re itching to get out of the stupid sailor uniform your boss has you stuff on every morning.

“I don’t get why you two are even allowing this,” Steve is boredy swinging the store’s key around his finger.

Robin punches in the register code and it pops open with a cartoonish ching, she shrugs while you remove your sailor hat and toss it onto the counter, “Why not?”

“We could get fired,” he glares at the two of you.

“What? Is Mr. Ahoy himself going to find out we let two teenagers try new flavors before they came out, Harrington?” you shoot Steve a pointed look, then turn your gaze back to the food court - where Max and Lucas can be seen approaching your humble ice cream parlor.

You wave at them, and subsequently their driver, Max’s step-brother, Billy.

Lucas returns your gesture much more excitedly than his girlfriend, but that’s nothing exactly new.

Max is sweet on you, Robin, and Eleven compared to her teasing of the guys in the group, but she’s more casual. A simple nod of acknowledgment means you’ve made the big leagues in her book.

Billy stops outside the store, hands deep in the pockets of his denim jeans that really hug, and sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose even though it’s already nighttime.

“Thanks for delivering the kiddies safely,” Steve grins, tossing you the key so he can proceed with one of his infamous dick-measuring contests with Billy, “Corey Hart.”

“You really think you’re funny, don’t you, Harrington?” Billy is just a couple inches taller than Steve, but that has never once stopped him from holding it over the man’s head.

“Oh my God,” Robin groans, setting down the money she was counting, “You made me lose focus, you asses.”

“Stop fighting during custody trades,” you kick at the back of Steve’s calf, “It’s bad for the children to see their parents fighting.”

“I- “ Steve cuts himself off, “Fine. I don’t even care.”

He snatches the key he threw to you and begins towards the back door of Scoops, Max and Lucas trailing after like little sheep.

You turn to Billy while Robin restarts her counting, “Try not to crash, Hargrove. It’d be a shame to lose our only lifeguard that thinks he’s a dictator.”

“Very funny, sweetheart,” your face sours at the nickname and he chuckles, patting your cheek before pulling out a cigarette - seemingly from his ass - and placing it between his lips, “See ya soon.”

“Let’s hope not,” you mutter bitterly.

Billy gives a mock salute as he turns, lighting his cigarette as he goes.

Max and Lucas’ combined glaring through your skull calls, though, and you don’t have the heart to make them sit for one of your rants about Billy Hargrove’s ego when they could be eating exclusive ice cream flavors.

So you hurry to the freezer and encourage Steve to pry it open for the lovebirds.

Across the mall, a fly swirls around Billy Hargrove’s head. It buzzes and lands on his cheek, he flinches at the proximity and swats a hand through the air. Another fly joins its brother and Billy walks faster toward the Starcourt mall doors. Billy puts out his cigarette on a nearby wall and sticks it behind his ear, genuinely considering running when he hears it.

The hiss of his name.

Layered, but still high-pitched. A whisper.

“Billy!”

He snaps around, eyes flitting this way and that.

“Billy.”

There’s no apparent source.

His hands clench as yet another fly drones around his head.

“Billy! Billy! Billy!"

The calls come from all around and he’s sick of it. Something squeezes at his heart.

A fourth fly comes - it lands on his brow and Billy’s hand moves faster than he’d ever thought possible. The fly is squashed dead against his forehead as what sounds like your voice mixed with Max and Neil’s calls from above.

“Billy!”

“Alright, alright,” Steve holds out two small-size cups to Max and Lucas, “Just - just try it before you knock it, okay?”

“It’s just ice cream, captain,” Max rolls her eyes but takes the cup anyway.

“It’s my specialty,” Steve insists, “Rocky Road, Cherry Chunk, and strawberry syrup - it’s good.”

“It sounds disgustingly sweet,” Max turns her gaze onto you. A brow quirked as if to ask if Steve is serious. But Lucas is not so hesitant, already beginning to dig into his serving of the Harrington special.

“You are in Scoops Ahoy!, Maxine,” she gags at her own name and you laugh.

Just through the candy apple red door is Robin, still stuck counting the register. She’s going as fast as her tired, frazzled brain will allow when she hears heavy footfalls approaching the counter. Losing count, Robin sighs and goes to tell off a lost shopper when she sees who has returned.

“Hey, Hargrove, you’re not needed for another…” she judges the clock, “twenty minutes? At least.”

But Billy steps past the counter, slipping over the lackluster fall board that separates you three from the customers and standing before Robin Buckley.

“I’m gonna need you to get back,” Robin’s always been intimidated by Billy, as much as she hates to admit it.

But come on, she’s been the band geek since freshmen year and he was just… generally terrifying, unless he was trying to fuck you.

“Seriously, Steve is right back there- “ her point is seized, Billy snatching her by the bangs and pulling until her mouth parts to scream.

His hand scrambles for a long-abandoned ice cream scoop that glints under the yellow fluorescents. It’s crusted with the mint chocolate chip that’d been served to a couple of middle schoolers only an hour ago. Billy takes up the scoop and jams it through Robin’s lips, forcing it down her throat until the edge of the black, rubber handle is just peeking through her teeth.

She chokes and claws at her throat, earning no sympathy from Billy when he uses his hold on her bangs to shove her head through the sliding glass panel that separates the ice cream tubs. Robin’s held down in a nearly empty container of cotton candy as Billy slams the panel shut around her neck - hard enough for the glass to shake.

Max’s head snaps around at the sound of a slam, but neither you nor Steve follows. Lucas is busy trying to keep dripping, melted ice cream from both his fingers and the floor.

“Did nobody else hear that?” Max furrows her brows at the three of you.

“Robin likes stealing ice cream after closing,” you reach into the freezer and pull out a tub of birthday cake, “Here. New and improved flavor, straight from corporate themselves.”

Lucas takes a spoon to the treat but Max shakes her head, stepping back as she says, “I’m just gonna check on her.”

“Alright,” Steve steals back the tub from your hands when Lucas goes in for seconds, “but don’t get huffy when it’s just Robin eating caramel pecan butter.”

The three of you pause now, you lean against Steve’s side as Max approaches that fiery red door. Her hand wraps around the doorknob and she looks right at you, sticking out her tongue as her arm moves to lug the door open.

You all jump back when the door slams right back into the side of Max’s face. She yelps, Billy storming through the doorway and grabbing his step-sister by the neck - lifting her up in the air. Her feet kick out uselessly, hands beating at his arms.

Before Lucas can stupidly run forward, you snag him by the collar of his letterman jacket and hold him away from the man. Max chokes out a desperate scream and her face grows bright red. Steve, though, is free to stupidly runs forward, his body coming back alive when Billy’s hand visibly squeezes tighter around Max’s throat.

It’s fruitless, however, as Billy’s other hand moves automatically - inhuman and mechanical - towards Steve. You scream, back hitting the cold shelves of the open ice cream freezer when Steve is grabbed like a doll by Billy Hargrove. Lucas fights against your terrified grasp, but your petrified arms refuse to release the boy as Steve is lifted just like Max.

You shove Lucas behind you when Max’s face tilts into something purple, racing forward to tug Steve back by the loose, deep blue cloth of his uniform shirt. Both hands come into the effort and Steve’s hat is rocked off of his head, you rip at the flesh of Billy’s fingers around Steve’s neck.

Billy drops Steve with a thud and you drag him away, but there’s a loss immediately at the surface as Billy returns his attention to Max.

The very air in your lungs is stolen when both hands come to Max’s neck. There’s a strangled gasp, Lucas’ guttural shriek, and a snap. A snap you’ve never heard before - like a broken bone, but different. Worse.

So irrevocably worse.

Max’s face drops - all muscle releasing, and you realize that that supposed relaxation leaves her looking horrified. Mouth agape and head hanging like there was never bone there at all.

You’re up first, having to drag Lucas through the door that connects Scoops Ahoy to the neighboring food stall. Steve follows the both of you into the Imperial Panda kitchen.

Max’s body cracks against the floor like sacked potatoes and Billy steps over her like the dirt on his shoe.

Billy’s boots thunder against tiled floor as he follows your trio - the shing of a blade being drawn out from the cutting board echoing ominously in your ears. Lucas heads your group and it feels like your legs can’t burn fast enough.

Like you’re too slow. Like you’re going to die.

His hands on your neck, his bloodlust in your lungs.

You knew Billy Hargrove was an asshole, but you never could have guessed that he would go so far as murder. It’s unlike him, even for - well - him.

Your legs begin to ache, begging to seize, but it still isn’t enough.

Your ears scorch at the sound of Steve’s scream.

The collar of Steve’s uniform shirt cuts to his throat when Billy grabs the back to tug him to his doom. Steve is never presented with the opportunity to defend himself when a clever is hacked between his shoulder blades. He throws a hand forward, caught between pleading with you and Lucas to turn back for him and crying for you both to run faster.

Billy pulls out the clever and kicks Steve to the ground, raising his foot and pressing each corner of his newfound strength and force and hatred into its downfall. Steve’s skull eggshells on the reflective tile of the food court - blood and brain spilling between onto neon reflections.

You can imagine it vividly - Billy right behind you. Hauling ass after the both of you, but the doors are in sight and he’s still with Steve and once you’re out he won’t be able to get you and-

Billy releases the clever in an angled, timed throw - one eye clenched shut to get the best judge of sight.

Your head rocks forward on impact, body freezing and smacking to the ground once the clever buries its mark in the back of your skull. You thud. Dead weight.

Lucas hears it - the sound of your skin like raw meat on a kitchen counter, the ringing silence when your footsteps are no longer behind his.

He wants to run back. Wake you up, wake you up, as if you’re sleeping - because you have to be, your death doesn’t feel real. Max and Steve and Robin - none of it has registered but the looming threat of Billy Hargrove most certainly does.

Those footsteps fill in where yours left off and Lucas feels trapped.

But the doors are coming up. Overwhelmingly close and yet miles away.

His hand shoots out, shoes squeaking against tile, lungs in hell, and his fingertips graze the cold metal push-frame of Starcourt’s front doors.

The doors gasp as he pushes and they release, squealing open.

Then Billy gets a lethal grasp over the collar of his basketball team letterman jacket.

Lucas screams, knowing exactly well how futile ripping apart his vocal cords is. He catches a glimpse of you and Steve over Billy’s shoulders.

Blood pools below what remains of your heads, bodies sprawled and lifeless inside the Scoops Ahoy! uniforms you were both making fun of not ten minutes ago.

Lucas peels at Billy’s face as he’s flipped and held straight. He cries and whimpers like a young babe at the growing pressure that comes from Billy’s hands on either side of his face. It grows and grows and grows and just as he comes to question this unnatural display of strength and cruelty - even from Billy - it pops.

His bones crunch and the teeth are the first to fall out. Blood drools from between his lips and Billy drops Lucas’ body to the floor which continues to shine in what neon signs remain of the stores’ stalls.

Sweat sheens his body as Billy steps over the teenager, his hand pushing open the Starcourt doors so he can carry the devil inside him’s will to the streets.

Eleven traces a finger over the polaroid of you that’s been stuck onto your locker. You’re standing in the middle of a sunflower field - a road trip to the midwest that Eddie forced you to join him on, you once told her. Notes and folded letters of well wishes in the afterlife have been pasted onto your locker with picked flowers from the side of the road in memoriam. Beside your locker is Robin’s, also littered with notes, letters, and flowers by your fellow students. At the top of each locker is RIP etched into the metal, which she’d seen done by Louise Graham only minutes ago.

Mike tenderly takes his girlfriend’s hand and brings her to his side, though his eyes remain on yours and Robin’s lockers.

The group is peculiarly silent, but nobody is exactly rushing to undo the crickets.

Will fiddles with his fingers as a couple of students from down the hall are sticking daisies through the slats in Steve’s locker as tribute. Dustin stares at his shoes to hide the wetness that gathers in his waterline - hat hiding his reddening, sorrowed face.

Eddie, however, is in full contempt as he watches with crossed arms while a man races down the corridor in a copy of the outfit Billy Hargrove was wearing during his Starcourt massacre. A wife beater, gold-rimmed sunglasses, and denim jeans.

“Hawkins is fucking cursed,” Eddie murmurs, glaring at the boy all the way until he’s no longer in sight, “I’m tired of these bullshit freak incidents.”

“What can we do?” Will shakes his head, looking up at Eddie.

Mike squeezes Eleven to his side, as if it’ll successfully hide her from the evils of Hawkins, Indiana, “Hope we make something of ourselves like our parents never did so we can get the fuck out of here.”

“If we can make something of ourselves in Hawkins,” Dustin sniffles one final time and watches a group of cheerleaders run by, preparing for the homecoming game later tonight.

One cheerleader, captain Chrissy Cunningham, slows to a stop by your and Robin’s locker - pulling out two folded letters to jam between the slots of your doors.

“Why wouldn’t we be able to?” Eleven frowns, and Chrissy pauses at the sound of her voice.

Eddie pushes himself off the locker and spreads his arms wide, grinning as he mouths a distasteful, “Hawkins is fucking cursed.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #robin buckley x reader #lucas sinclair x reader #max mayfield x reader #lucas sinclair x max mayfield #billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington #robin buckley #billy hargrove #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #fear street au

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inairbinad · 11 months

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Heaven, Indiana (2/3)

7k | T | also on ao3 | Part One | Part Three

A re-imagining of season 3, where Eddie and Robin are already looped in on the Upside Down madness, and Eddie joins Scoops Troop. Part of my Barb Lives AU from the Petals Verse, where everyone lives and the timeline gets wonky as a result. @steddie-week day 5 prompts: Together / Hold the Line cw: typical trapped in the bunker blood and stuff

Eddie regretted ever agreeing to anything Dustin Henderson suggested.

“I’m never going along with another one of your harebrained schemes again, Henderson!” Eddie screeched as they found themselves rapidly descending in a secret elevator towards the bunker from hell. He wished he’d learned his lesson the last time.

He hated everything about this. He hated Robin for being genius enough to crack that goddamn code, he hated Dustin for hearing it in the first place, he hated himself for not listening to his intuition several red flags ago, and pulling the plug on this idiotic vendetta the minute Erica crawled into a fucking air vent.

The only thing he didn’t hate, in the end, was how Steve latched on to his hand in a vice grip as they plummeted towards their inevitable death.

Even though the elevator didn’t end up killing them, being trapped in it probably would. Following Erica’s suggestion to drink the green stuff almost definitely would. And if all else failed, Dustin repeatedly suggesting that Steve ask Robin out would certainly do Eddie in.

“How about we let the man make his own romantic choices, hm?” Eddie grumbled, already weirded out by the triple-piss break the three of them were embarking upon together on top of the elevator.

“Ohhhhhh,” Dustin exclaimed like he was doing his best Velma impression and solving a mystery. “Do you like Robin, Eddie?”

Steve let out a hysterical shriek of a laugh, and Eddie sent daggers flinging in his direction by way of his glare alone.

“Sorry,” Steve coughed. Dustin looked between the two of them like he realized he was out of the loop on something, now.

Despite feeling completely unspooled in that instant, Eddie was damn sure about one thing; this would not be how he came out to Dustin, if he ever got the chance at all.

“What did I miss while I was at camp?” Dustin asked.

Eddie never thought he’d be so happy to be interrupted by Soviet henchmen.

———

By the time Robin was trying to use stilted Russian to confuse some communications officer into not shooting them, and Eddie and Steve had to take turns trying to knock him out until Steve proved he would use anything as a weapon (a phone, this time), Eddie was ready to go home. He was desperately wishing for another sexually confusing bout of wrestling on the floor with one of his best friends, whom he also happened to be in love with, a joint, about sixteen beers, and as many bags of Wayne’s chips as he could stomach.

Instead, Robin had to wander off and find the big fucking super gun that was actively working on opening up a portal to hell.

“The gate,” Steve and Dustin said in unison, immediately recognizing it for what it was. Eddie had flashbacks to slimy, tooth-riddled monsters getting tossed around by El in her bitchin’ outfit, and was instantly ready to nope right the fuck out of there.

“Jesus tap-dancing Christ,” Eddie breathed, peeking over Steve’s shoulder at the monstrous contraption hidden underneath a mall, of all places. He thought there was a metaphor for the seedy underbelly of American consumerism in there, somewhere, but he was too wired to examine it. He had to clench his fists just to stay present, to not find himself back in the tunnels with the slippery skin of a thousand monsters rushing past him. He sucked in a breath and asked, “Why would you want to reopen that shit?”

“Call it the new space race,” Robin said, her face white as a sheet as she also looked on in terror.

Steve leaned back into Eddie’s chest, ever so slightly, and Eddie was happy to give him the added support. He wasn’t sure how long his own legs would hold either one of them up, though.

Erica was just staring at the lot of them like they were insane. “You all know what that is?”

“I’ll explain later,” Dustin offered, then started shooing everyone back down the stairs to the comms room.

“Uh, Steve?” Erica asked in a skeptical tone that Eddie thought she should probably have patented, at this point. “Where’s your Russian friend?”

Apparently knocking someone out with a phone didn’t have the best staying power. The officer was gone.

Alarms started blaring all around them, and before Eddie had a chance to blink, Steve was grabbing his hand and pulling, dragging him and the rest of their ragtag group along for a chase through a goddamn secret Soviet bunker. Eddie didn’t know how long they ran for, only that he clung to Steve with one hand and Dustin with the other, a train of slick palms grappling onto each other as they dodged and weaved through the corridors for any way to escape.

“I’ve fucking failed Phys. Ed before, Harrington!” Eddie shouted at the back of Steve’s head as he trailed behind him, his legs already feeling like jello from his poorly treated lungs failing to properly oxygenate the rest of his body.

Somehow that was the revelation that made Steve laugh, a contradictory and beautiful sound in that it was both gleeful and utterly dripping with stress. Before Eddie knew it Steve was flinging the kids, Eddie, and Robin behind a door, and leaning up against it with the strength of ten men. Eddie thrust his shoulder into it, too, doing his best to plant his feet and stave off the brigade of soldiers with guns pounding on the other side.

Dustin and Erica quickly found an escape hatch of sorts, and were urging the older three to follow. Eddie took in the distance between them and the kids, then the storm of hostiles ready to pounce the second he and Steve let go, and already knew there was no way they could make it. Not without getting caught.

Robin could, though. She stood there, obviously torn and on the verge of tears, staring Steve and Eddie down like she couldn’t bear to leave them.

“Go,” Steve urged her. “Get them out of here and find help.”

“Steve,” Robin’s voice creaked with strain, her eyes never leaving Steve’s face as the door jostled behind him and Eddie. Robin’s feet, at least, seemed to know better than her heart. They were already carrying her back towards where Dustin was waiting for her, despite the obvious hesitation on her face.

“Go, Birdie,” Eddie assured her, heart wrenching in his chest as Robin’s eyes cut to his next. “I’ve got him.”

Robin bit her lip, and something solidified in her gaze before she turned tail and ran.

It didn’t take long after that for the door to give.

———

They left Eddie alone in a locked room and made him listen over an intercom as they tried to beat the truth out of Steve.

It was unknowably excruciating, the love and rage and desperation to fix this that were all warring in Eddie’s chest, and he was helpless to do anything about it. Listening to Steve whimper in pain, begging them to stop, hurt more than any beating they could have given Eddie. He’d been punched and kicked and elbowed plenty in his relatively short life, but this was the worst torture he’d ever been made to endure.

They hadn’t left Eddie completely unscathed, of course. As the soldiers wrestled him into submission, he’d taken a hell of a backhand across the cheek that left him seeing spots—one even his dear old dad would have been proud of. Then when they’d tossed him in this hellish entrapment of a room, he’d landed on his left elbow, and still couldn’t quite feel the bottom half of his arm beyond the stinging of pins and needles, and the throbbing that came if he moved it too much.

But that was nothing compared to what they were doing to Steve.

Over and over, they screamed, “Who do you work for?”

Over and over, Steve would tell the truth and get punished for it.

With each blow he heard land, and every subsequent cry out of Steve, Eddie’s very skin prickled with the desire to crawl outside of himself, to scale the walls, to burn the world to make it stop. He wanted to beg them to beat him instead, knock him senseless until he forgot who he was.

If only they’d let Steve go.

But he knew that’s what these assholes were gunning for. They apparently had calculated that Eddie was the one more likely to cave, if they forced him to listen to his friend get battered half to hell. They thought if they left him in here long enough, stewing in the abject terror of his powerlessness, Eddie would offer up whatever intel he and Steve were supposed to have.

As if they weren’t just a couple of teenagers who worked in a mall.

They think you’re the soft one, Eddie’s father’s voice rang through his ears, completely unwelcome. It’s no wonder, in that thing you call a uniform.

“Shut up,” Eddie groaned a loud, desperate to think up a miracle solution out of this. He hoped Robin and the kids had gotten out, were already on their way back with help, but Eddie knew that was unlikely. They’d walked through that goddamn tunnel for miles just to get here. It would take hours for anyone to find them again.

He needed to come up with something on his own, he knew. He needed to make them leave Steve alone.

Desperately wracking his brain for a solution that would get them out of this—from wrestling a gun off of somebody, to pledging himself to the Soviet Union in perpetuity, to managing to make a run for it and jumping through that goddamn gate and into the Upside Down itself—Eddie wasn’t coming up with anything concrete.

He had pulled his hair half to hell, though, by the time he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter coming from the room next door.

Eddie wasn’t sure if Steve was delirious from taking so many blows to the head, or if he actually thought that bribing Russian spies with ice cream would work, but Eddie heard that hilarity for what it was—dangerous.

“No, no, no, no, no, no—” Steve cried next, and Eddie’s whole body flinched as he heard the sickening crunch of another punch landing.

Eddie didn’t have a plan, exactly, but he couldn’t sit there any longer.

Eddie pounded on the door until his fists ached, and his left arm went completely numb.

He’d make up a story if he had to.

———

Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d been begging for their captors’ attention for a hour or a minute, when the door finally opened and they tossed Steve’s limp, unconscious body on the floor.

At least Eddie hoped he was only unconscious.

He dropped to his knees in an instant, his desperate and shaking hands fumbling for Steve’s neck, looking for a pulse. For years, after, Eddie wouldn’t be able to properly express the relief that coursed through him in that moment, when he felt the steady thud of Steve’s heart against his fingertips.

He didn’t get to relish it for long, though, before the goons (who Eddie thought might deserve to be the lunch of a demogorgon) grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him up into a steel chair. Eddie managed to get a good kick in on one of their kneecaps, but it didn’t do much to deter anybody. Then they did the same to Steve, and roughly tied them together, back to back.

Eddie felt Steve’s head loll backwards onto his shoulder and turn ever so slightly, until he could feel each little puff of breath that Steve expelled against the back of his neck.

It was strange, finding anything to feel grateful for in this predicament. But Eddie was thankful for every confirmation that Steve was still breathing.

It meant there was still something to fight for.

So caught up in the fact that Steve was back within his reach, even if from an awkward angle, Eddie almost forgot about the fact that a few soldiers were still in the room. That was until they started to leave, at least.

“Hey, where the fuck are you going?” Eddie demanded, as if he was in any position of power. The soldiers ignored him completely, slamming the door shut behind them. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Eds?” Steve’s voice was so tiny and weak that Eddie didn’t think he would have heard it if he hadn’t literally felt it tickle his neck.

“Stevie?” Eddie responded, instantly snapped out of his mini-meltdown. He twisted as much as he could, until the ropes around him burned from how tightly they were lashed together. “You okay back there?”

“Been--” Steve paused, wheezed and coughed a little, then whimpered again before finishing, “—better.”

“Don’t talk,” Eddie said in a middling imitation of a soothing voice, since nothing about him felt soothed in the least. “Sounds like you might have a broken rib or two.”

“I’d be surprised if any weren’t broken,” Steve said, somehow managing to laugh. Eddie heard Steve’s sharp intake of breath follow quickly, though, and fondly shook his head at Steve’s inability to listen.

“Can you reach my hand?” Eddie asked as he flailed his right hand around, trapped halfway behind him. He hoped Steve’s left was close. Sure enough, Eddie felt Steve’s fingers wrap around his own. Eddie gave them a little wriggle, then smiled, hoping Steve would be able to hear it in his voice. “We’re gonna get out of here. Promise.”

“I know,” Steve said, and Eddie wished he felt as confident as Steve sounded. “Are you hurt?”

“Not much,” Eddie replied, and felt a little huff of relief from Steve against his neck. “Nothing like you, my guy.”

“Good—” Steve started to say, but he was interrupted by the return of two hulking soldiers and some other important looking asshole. Eddie assumed he was in charge here, because he had a little hat and some extra insignia to complete his outfit.

“Gentleman,” the man said with an eerie smile. He had a stereotypically villainous accent that Eddie thought was unfair to all of the Russians in the world who weren’t trying to kill him in that moment. “Are we ready to talk?”

Eddie still hadn’t really come up with a story he thought would get them out of this mess, but he did have an idea about something that might buy them some time. It might have been a shot in the dark, and a long one at that, but it was a shot.

“You seem convinced we’re spies of some kind, yeah? Undercover in our funny little sailor outfits?” Eddie asked the interrogator man with his special hat. He only tilted his head at Eddie in response. “So what makes you think we’ll talk just because you beat the shit out of us? You think we’re not trained for this? That we don’t have backup on its way to us right now because we haven’t checked in as expected? Is that how you run things around here?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed the man’s face, and Eddie knew he’d hit a nerve. So he dug in.

“I didn’t think you’d be such amateurs, comrade.”

Eddie wished he could say the next blow to his face was surprising, but he’d been expecting that reaction, if not searching for it. He just hoped the assertion that maybe they were backed up by some authority, other than that of Scoops Ahoy, was enough to put some fear in these dipshits. It seemed only fair.

And if not that, maybe they’d at least see Eddie as a better punching bag moving forward.

The expense was getting thwacked in the mouth to the point where Eddie felt his lip split in an instant. Then, again, when the force of the next blow sliced the inside of his cheek against his tooth, and his mouth filled with blood.

The pain was a stark relief, Eddie realized, just from knowing he was the one who had to take that blow instead of Steve. He tasted the iron in his teeth as he smiled up at his interrogator.

Of course Steve had to go and ruin it, though.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he interrupted, thrashing and half-screaming, before anyone else could move. “Don’t listen to him. He’s—new, and just trying to prove himself, and is full of shit, okay? I’ll talk.”

“Steve—” Eddie jerked in the chair, trying to squeeze his fingers in a silent plea to shut up. But he felt Steve stubbornly shake his head against the back of his own. A cold dread pooled in Eddie’s stomach as the interrogator slowly crept around their chairs to look Steve in the face. Maybe Steve had his own ideas of how to talk them out of this, but Eddie was desperate for him to stay quiet and not get any more attention from Russian fists.

“Brenner sent us,” Steve said over Eddie’s protests. Eddie froze in place, trying to gauge the way the guy in charge was reacting to that information with his neck craned halfway around like a goddamn owl. His face seemed impassive, and Steve kept talking. “Okay? They got some weird readings on their science-y shit that I don’t understand, so don’t ask me to explain it, and sent us looking for a gate. Long story short, you find two dudes in dumb outfits wandering around, pretending to be teenagers from the mall who got lost.”

Eddie thought it was pretty shitty, as far as lies went, but he hadn’t been able to come up with anything better. And at least Steve had a real name to drop, even if Brenner was dead. Eddie actually thought that much was pretty clever, considering it saved them from having to use the name of a living person for leverage.

Except for when Eddie realized it wasn’t clever at all.

His whole body froze in fear as the interrogator unholstered his gun. He knew they were done for, and that he was about to watch the only boy he’d ever loved—the only one he had a chance to—die, with Eddie unable to do anything to stop it. Steve’s fingers twitched in Eddie’s grasp, just the tiniest expression of fear, and Eddie felt it viscerally.

He’d never bought into that whole ‘life-flashing-before-your-eyes’ business, but time did seem to slow in that instant. But instead of his whole life, Eddie’s mind was flooded with images of Steve. Steve with Dustin, showing him how to style his hair; Steve’s soft smile sent in Eddie’s direction when he pretended to be a pirate with spoons for hands; Steve hovering over Eddie on the floor of the trailer and licking his lips. Every moment that Eddie had looked at Steve Harrington and known, without a doubt, that he was in love with his best friend ran rampant in Eddie’s mind.

And he’d never said it. Eddie felt so incredibly stupid for never saying it.

I love you, Stevie, hovered on Eddie’s tongue like a prayer. He could hardly think of any better last words.

But he wasn’t quick enough.

Eddie couldn’t see it straight on, but he heard the crack of the butt of the pistol as it met the side of Steve’s face. The blow came down so hard that reverberated through Steve and Eddie both, sending Steve’s head knocking into Eddie’s. Steve barely made a sound, just a low, garbled grunt around what sounded like more blood in his mouth. Then Eddie felt the absence of Steve’s head resting against his own, twisting around again to see that Steve had lolled forward from the force of it.

“Dr. Brenner is dead,” the interrogator said without an ounce of emotion in his voice. “Try again.”

Eddie began to jerk within the restraints in earnest then, his growing rage burning through his veins like wildfire. No one even paid him any mind, though, as another man entered the room, dressed up in a lab coat and apron like some kind of mad scientist. The look of him sent a bone-deep chill through Eddie.

Their interrogator went over to talk to the new guy in hushed tones, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they were screaming. They were speaking Russian, and Eddie wasn’t a good enough fake spy to know what the hell they were saying.

He could only guess it was nothing good.

“Hey, fuckface,” Eddie shouted, drawing the attention back to himself. He was entirely giving in to impulse now, but at least it stopped the two of them plotting whatever was coming next, even if only for a moment. Slowly, the interrogator came back to hover over him, then leaned down into Eddie’s space like he owned it.

“You’ll tell me the truth,” he smiled thinly, pressing his nose entirely too close to Eddie’s. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Eddie waited for another punch to the face, for them to threaten him with ripping out his fingernails or his teeth, whatever his next punishment might be. He didn’t care anymore. The anger was seething through him to the point where he wanted to burn this place right there in the ground it was tunneled into. Eddie wanted to watch each and every one of them suffer, and he wished his hands were free enough to let him act on the desire.

So the damage he could cause with his mouth would have to do.

“If you say so,” Eddie said, before spitting blood in the face of the asshole who had just dared to pistol-whip Steve Harrington in Eddie’s presence. Eddie grinned wildly back up at him, leaning into the satisfaction of watching his blood and spit creep down the man’s cheek.

He scoffed in distaste before moving to wipe his face with his sleeve. There was a contempt in his eyes, but his voice was nothing but calm when he simply answered, “I do.”

Then he nodded at the creep in the mad scientist getup in the corner, who came forward with two needles that rivaled the one in Seattle in size. Eddie felt himself inadvertently squeeze Steve’s hand as he tensed again.

“What—” Steve slurred, but before he could finish his question he must have seen what Eddie had been reacting to. “Fuck’s that?”

“Something to help loosen your tongues,” the interrogator answered. He turned on his heel and left just as Eddie felt the pinch of a needle sliding in his neck.

———

At first Eddie didn’t feel any different, and he wondered if maybe he’d built up enough of a tolerance to whatever the Russians had drugged them with by frequently getting high off his own supply. He also considered that maybe the heightened adrenaline that was carrying him through this otherworldly situation might have been staving off the effect for now.

Either way, his focus was less on however he’d been poisoned, and more on keeping Steve talking. He’d been slurring his words and complaining about the room spinning ever since he’d taken that last blow to the head, and even if that was partly the drugs talking, Eddie was also pretty certain he had a concussion. Again.

Even though the two of them had managed to fend off Billy pretty well, last fall, Steve had still come away with a pretty impressive head injury to show for it.

“Come on Stevie,” Eddie kept saying every time Steve lulled off into silence. “Keep talking to me. Stay awake.”

“Whaddya wanna talk about?” Steve asked, then started laughing to himself. “Your crush on Birdie?”

“Oh, god,” Eddie groaned, unwilling to rehash Dustin’s wildly inaccurate hypotheses about his love life at the moment. “Please, no.”

“But you lurve her,” Steve crooned, sounding very high indeed. “And apparently so do I, and we’re gonna have to fight over her if we want to stay manly men.”

“I think we all know Chris is gonna beat us both there,” Eddie said, trying to keep Chrissy’s name vague enough so that no one would go looking for her, if they were listening in now.

Eddie also didn’t bother to pretend he couldn’t parse Steve’s ramblings. Even high and concussed, he made perfect sense to Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t sure what that said, really.

Steve laughed, surprisingly full of joy considering the situation. He didn’t stop, either. Eddie felt Steve lean forward with it, tumbling into more giggles as he probably imagined Chrissy Cunningham slaying them both like dragons for Robin’s hand. Or, at least, that’s what Eddie was picturing.

No sooner than he’d had that thought, a wave of hilarity hit him. He wasn’t sure if it was just the contagion of Steve’s laughter, or the drugs finally kicking in, or both, but pretty soon they were both giggling ferociously at the thought of either one of them being in love with Robin Buckley.

Eddie wasn’t quite prepared for the wave of sadness that hit him when he wondered if he’d ever get to see her again.

“Fuck,” Eddie winced, all of a sudden on the verge of tears. This was not a good high at all. It was too much of a rollercoaster, heightening every emotion well past the point of discomfort. “I miss her.”

“Me, too,” Steve said, sounding forlorn now as well.

“Maybe we should talk about how we’re gonna get out of here, instead,” Eddie suggested.

“Oh,” Steve sighed, dropping his head back to Eddie’s shoulder again. Eddie could just barely make out the top of Steve’s head in his peripheral. It looked swollen and lumpy already. “I don’t have a plan for that, actually. D’you?”

“Maybe,” Eddie hedged, glancing over to the table of instruments the mad scientist had left in the corner. He’d been staring at it for what felt like hours, now, even though it had probably only been minutes. “It’s a little harebrained, though. Like, Dustin would be proud.”

“Lay it on me, Munson.”

Eddie, by some ungodly willpower, managed to avoid making a dirty joke. He did snort, though, and heard Steve scoff in response.

“They left scissors in here,” Eddie powered through, nodding his head over in the direction of the table. “We could try to, I don’t know, scooch our chairs over towards them?”

Steve was already flopping around before Eddie finished talking, scraping the legs of his chair against the concrete floor as he did.

“Woah, slow down, Stevie,” Eddie cut in. “We’ve gotta move together. Alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agreed, then waited for Eddie to count to three before they both moved in sync towards the table. They’d only managed to move a few inches, but it was enough to give Eddie a surge of hope. They tried again, and again, until they moved slightly off kilter and both went tumbling down to the floor in a heap.

Eddie landed on the same bad elbow again and, through the haze of pain shooting up and down his arm, rather nonsensically wondered if this might fuck up his ability to keep playing guitar. As if he’d ever hold a guitar again, now that his best plan had gone splat on the floor. Much like his elbow.

“Fuuuuck,” Steve groaned, and Eddie snapped back to what was important in an instant.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked, worried he’d just made things worse than just being trapped and tied up, but now also on the floor.

“No,” Steve answered. “That still felt shitty, though.”

“Here, here,” Eddie agreed, and then they both burst into laughter again.

They laid there snickering for a while, and Eddie wondered if these drugs were designed not to be doing anything for the pain in his arm. Probably, knowing these sadistic bastards.

He got distracted from ruminating on how the drugs were supposed to work when Steve started humming to himself.

“Are you singing Toto?” Eddie asked, baffled.

“Mhmm,” Steve answered without really stopping his little tune. “It’s been stuck in my head for a while now.”

“Why?” Eddie urged.

“Because when we were holding the door shut, we were holding the line,” Steve said like that much should have been obvious. The sad thing was, that made perfect sense to Eddie.

It was also kind of hilarious.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathed, still feeling some giggles bubbling up out of his throat an unable to stop them. He really couldn’t believe this was actually happening. From the torture to the Toto. “Is this how you thought us working together would go?”

“No,” Steve snorted, still laughing too. “I thought us working together would just be us flirting and annoying Robin all day.”

Eddie wasn’t sure why that struck him like an admission, of sorts. It wasn’t like he didn’t know they were flirting, literally all the time. The only real question Eddie ever had about it was if it was serious flirting, or the type you did to pass the time with one of your best friends while you were bored and didn’t have anything better to do.

At this point Eddie didn’t even really remember what flirting without feelings felt like, but that didn’t mean Steve was in the same boat. Eddie snorted at the nautical pun in his own inner monologue, and Steve jostled behind him.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Eddie deflected. “I can’t believe you tried to convince them we’re real spies.”

“You started it!” Steve protested, sounding affronted but amused.

“I was just trying to buy time to make them chase their tails and stop hitting you!” Eddie said.

“So they hit you instead,” Steve pointed out in a deeply unimpressed tone.

“I’m not the one who’s probably double concussed.”

“I’m fine,” Steve muttered, then went quiet. He did sound more alert than he had before, so Eddie opted to let the silence linger for a while.

He started contemplating if they were going to die like this, tied together and hanging on to each other for dear life.

This really isn’t how I ever imagined tying you up, Stevie, Eddie thought with a wry smile. Or you tying me up.

“Think about that a lot, do you?” Steve asked, and Eddie was pretty sure the whole world stopped turning. He stayed silent for a beat, but being tied to the object of his desire, he couldn’t exactly run away and dodge the question.

“Did I say that out loud?” he finally asked, dreading the answer.

“Yes,” Steve laughed, and Eddie winced until he felt the split in his lip open back up. “I don’t mind being tied to you. But it’d be more fun if at least one of us had our hands free, though.”

“Damn it, Stevie,” Eddie grumbled, finding his encouragement entirely unhelpful. “We can’t flirt now. We’ve got bigger problems.”

“Eh,” Steve said, and Eddie felt a stilted attempt at a shrug behind him. “If we’re gonna die we might as well flirt.”

Eddie thought if they really were going to die, maybe he should tell Steve about his feelings beyond how he wanted to tie Steve up. Or vice versa.

“I think maybe if we’re gonna die, I’ve got more important things to say.” He knew it was partly the drugs talking, but he also could create an itemized and detailed list of all the times he’d wanted to tell Steve while he was completely sober, too.

Steve didn’t say anything for a beat, so Eddie started to panic that he’d passed out again.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked. “Stay with me, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Eds,” Steve said softly. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“I have stuff to say, too. But you first, ‘cause I’m a gentleman.”

“Could’ve fooled me—”

“Eddie,” Steve cut him off.

“Right, sorry.” Eddie sighed, wishing he could rub his eyes and clear some of the fog from his head. “I guess…I just want to say that you’re one of the most important people in my life, Stevie. My best friend, even—don’t tell Jeff I said that—and even if I’m not yours. And even though this whole thing is unbelievably shitty, I’m glad we’re together. If I had to pick someone to get stuck in a secret Russian bunker with, it’d be you ten times outta ten, Stevie. Except I’d avoid the you getting tortured part, because I’ve never been more scared or desperate to make something stop in my life.”

“Really?” Steve asked, somehow sounding like he could hardly believe his ears.

“Stevie, I can’t bear to see you hurt.” Eddie said with the utmost sincerity. “You have to know that.”

“I guess I do now,” Steve murmured.

“I’d do just about anything to fix it,” Eddie said. “I swear to god, Steve.”

“You could always kiss it better,” Steve said, a teasing lilt to his tone. But Eddie was too far down the rabbit hole of being earnest with feelings.

“Done,” he said without hesitating. Steve didn’t respond other than to let out a surprised sounding little laugh, so Eddie kept talking. “I never thought we’d even talk to each other, let alone be friends, you know’? But I’m so glad I accidentally stumbled on you and Dustin looking for Dart last year. Because you made my second go-around at being a senior fun, and you even make working a shitty mall job bearable. So even if we die down here, I just want you to know that I’ve been so glad to know you, Steve Harrington. The real you. Because you’re beautiful, to me.”

Steve stayed quiet for a long while, probably trying to let his truth-serum addled and re-traumatized brain absorb everything Eddie had just said. But it was so deathly silent in that room—so far underground and reinforced with enough heavy metal to make even Eddie shy away—that he thought maybe his own heart had finally caved in and stopped under the sheer weight of what he felt for Steve.

“I feel the same, Eds,” Steve finally replied, gently but surefire.

“Yeah?” Eddie heard the wobble in his voice.

“Of course,” Steve insisted. “You’re my best friend, too, though.”

“Um,” Eddie huffed out a laugh, realizing Steve might be too high to function. “What about Robin?”

“That’s different,” Steve said immediately, but didn’t elaborate as to why. “Plus, you can have more than one, dumbass.”

“You’re calling me a dumbass?” Eddie scoffed, incredulous. “That’s your response to my heartfelt confession?”

“You didn’t confess anything!” Steve argued back. “You just basically said you’re surprised you don’t hate me!”

“I did not!” Eddie tried to defend himself, but in all honestly he couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said already. He thought it was a lot deeper than that, though. “I said—”

Eddie’s attempt to explain himself was interrupted by the sound of Dustin Henderson barging into the room, waving around one of those long ass shocky-stick-things that the Russians carried around, and bellowing out his best war cry. Eddie was both astonished and impressed.

Once Dustin realized there was no one to electrocute, or even at his eye level, he glanced down to find Eddie and Steve on the floor.

“How’d you two end up down there?” he asked.

“Russian soldiers are kinky,” Steve answered, and Eddie couldn’t help the hysterical cascade of laughter that billowed out of him. He could barely believe whatever conversation he and Steve had just been having, let alone the fact that Henderson was here, already going for the aforementioned scissors and trying to set them free.

Dustin still scrunched up his beautiful little face in confusion at the way Eddie and Steve were giggling like a couple of sailors on drugs.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked as the ropes around Eddie’s arms finally loosened. Eddie felt the blood flow return to his uninjured arm much quicker than the other, but that didn’t stop him from helping Dustin undo the ropes around their feet.

“Long story, Dust,” Eddie said, giving the top of his head an affectionate pat before twisting around to help Steve up.

When Eddie finally got another look at Steve’s face, he was horrified to see what they’d done to him. His left eye was a mottled mess of bruises, and almost swollen shut. The other eye was turning black, too, but not nearly as badly. His nose was bloody and swollen, but by some miracle it didn’t actually look broken. He had a deep cut on his chin that Eddie thought would probably scar, but that was nothing compared to the laceration left behind by the pistol. It was still bleeding, leaving a trail of dried and sticky blood alike down the side of Steve’s face and down his neck.

Somehow, Steve was still the most beautiful thing Eddie’d ever seen.

Steve smiled at him dopily, looking about as high as Eddie felt, but Eddie didn’t have the time to bask in it before more alarms started blaring.

“That’s our cue,” Dustin said, before grabbing at Steve and Eddie both and shoving them ahead of him towards the door. Eddie wrapped one of Steve’s arms around his neck, ready to haul him out if need be, and let Dustin’s momentum push them towards the doorway.

Until the shooting started, at least.

It all happened too fast for Eddie to even blink. He’d just poked his head through the door and into the corridor outside when the pop of a pistol sounded. In such close quarters, it loudly echoed through the halls of the bunker until Eddie’s ears were practically screaming. Distantly he saw the same officer Steve had clocked with the phone standing twenty feet or so down the hall, but the sight of him didn’t have time to register before Steve was shoving himself in front of Eddie, until Eddie went tumbling out of the line of fire and back into the interrogation room.

As he tumbled backwards into Dustin, all Eddie knew for sure was that Steve cried out in pain again. Then there was a big crash outside, accompanied a loud squeaking sound, like sneakers on a basketball court.

Eddie didn’t care how many times he’d get shot, as soon as he had his bearings again he scrambled back to Steve’s side. He frantically checked Steve over for whatever had hurt him, until he landed on a new patch of blood seeping through the ripped fabric of Steve’s sleeve.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed, looking down at where the bullet had grazed his bicep.

Eddie was speechless, unable to do anything more than take Steve’s arm as gently as he could into his hands and stare at the wound, looking for any sign of more damage.

Steve had just thrown himself in front of a fucking bullet for Eddie, literally. He wasn’t nearly sober enough or high enough to properly process that information.

“Hey, dipshits, let’s go!” Robin shouted from down the hall, and Eddie had the wherewithal to look up for the first time. She was sitting at the wheel of one of the bright red carts the soldiers used to drive around down here, with Erica in the front seat and an unconscious Russian soldier splayed out in front of it. His gun had been knocked out of his hand, and skidded halfway down the hall when Robin had apparently run him over.

Between a phone to the face and a cart to the whole damn body, this guy was having a bad day of getting knocked around by the dynamic duo of Steve and Robin.

Eddie thought that made Steve sound like Batman, a little, but he managed to suppress the thought into a snicker and move towards getting the fuck out of there.

Eddie tugged Steve along with him, despite his whines of protest, with Dustin quick on their heels. Then Dustin put two insistent little hands on Eddie and Steve’s backs and shoved them into the back of the cart, then crawled in behind them.

“Aren’t you glad you still haven’t taught me to drive?” Robin shouted over her shoulder, presumably at Steve, as she maneuvered the cart around the the once more unconscious soldier. Then they took off speeding down the hall.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked Dustin first, though he was pretty certain of the answer. Dustin nodded frantically, though he did look a little pale now, and Eddie gave him a hopefully reassuring pat on the head before he turned back to Steve’s bleeding bicep. Not knowing what else to do, Eddie tugged the dumbass little ascot free of his own uniform, then used it as a bandage to tie around Steve’s arm. Steve hissed again at the contact, but Eddie merely shushed him.

Eddie still couldn’t actually fathom that Steve had just taken a bullet for him, so he decided to voice his disbelief. “What’d you do that for? The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Well I’ve been shot, for one!” Steve answered, incredulous.

“What?!” Robin cried, twisting around in her seat while she was still pushing the cart to the maximum speed it was capable of. Everyone, but no one louder than Erica, screeched at her to put her eyes back on the corridor in front of them as the cart jerked to the right. Robin faced forward again, but she called back over her shoulder in a shaky voice, “Are you okay, Steve?”

“It’s just a graze,” Eddie replied as his trembling, still half-numb hands finally managed to tie the makeshift bandage into a knot. Then he looked Steve in the eye, or at least the one that wasn’t nearly swollen shut, and felt all the fight drain out of his body. He gave Steve as grateful a smile as he could manage and said, “You’re gonna be fine.”

“I know,” Steve murmured, then tentatively touched two fingers to the cut on Eddie’s bottom lip. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m gonna be fine, too,” Eddie promised. He felt Dustin’s eyes on them, but couldn’t be bothered not to take Steve’s hand in his own as they sped back towards the elevator.

[PART THREE]

#steddieweek2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #fanfic #dani's drafts #petals!verse

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stevewhoreington · 2 years

Text

harringrove week, day 6 - confessions

[nsfw/smut]

blue light

The mall burns and Billy should be dead but he isn't. The monster has been cast out of him. That's one demon down, at least. It doesn't matter that there are more to fight, because Harrington takes him in anyway. As it turns out, for a couple of guys with shining egos, neither of them having any fucking friends. Or. Okay. Harrington has that ice-cream-slinger-turned-movie-renter chick, and he also has Henderson but the kid still goes to bed before ten pm, so. That doesn't really count.

They hang out. It's awkward, to begin with, because there's an unspoken apology lodged in Billy's throat and probably a strange sense of surrender sitting over Harrington's shoulders, but. They drink beer and they smoke weed and they laugh about stupid shit and it makes them feel normal; makes them feel less like prey to the unimaginable things that live beneath the impossible depths of this sleepy town.

It gets easier as every new month passes. Summer is behind them and Billy's always loved the sun and the long evenings and the sticky heat, but he's glad to step into fall, and even happier to dive into winter. The white landscape is new to him, as is the constant edge of cold, and he frequently dips into Max's bedroom to steal her tube of lip balm because, as it turns out, Billy isn't durable in the face of Indiana's icy winds. He doesn't love summer anymore, but he's still made of golden sand.

Harrington's house is warm and every window is lit, bathed in orange glow, and Billy will never point it out - just as Harrington will never point out the way that Billy flinches, sometimes, when they're watching movies with monsters that creep like shadows. Monsters that have too many legs.

They draw the curtains. Harrington slips the video into the VCR while Billy, more at home than the place he has just come from, grabs a couple of beers from the fridge. It's becoming a familiar routine. It's becoming their thing. Billy's the first to flop down onto the couch, sinking into his preferred corner, cold cans of beer forming a small mountain in his lap.

Harrington unburdens him; takes the drinks and lines them up on the coffee table in front of them, before he sinks into his own corner, the space between them the width of an empty seat.

"What masterpiece you got for us tonight, Harrington?"

"Slumber Party Massacre." Harrington tosses a smirk over to Billy. Billy catches it in both hands and holds on tight.

"Christ," he groans. "Another fucking horror movie?"

"Sorry," Harrington shrugs. "Romance next time?"

"Screw you, Harrington."

"Steve." Harrington stretches over to the coffee table and snags two of the beers. Deposits one in Billy's lap as he says, "It's just Steve."

It's not a big deal. It's not. But still. Billy watches Harrington curiously, a single eyebrow arched in silent questioning.

Harrington scoffs. "Y'know, first names? They're what people generally go by. Unless they're assholes."

"Exactly," Billy shoots. "You're an asshole."

Harrington smiles sweetly, before he cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at Billy's mouth. "Nice lip balm."

"Screw. You." Billy twists the top of the can and it opens with a hiss. Brings it to his mouth, just so he can hide his smile.

The movie starts. They drink their beer and grab a second. It's a horror movie, but it's one without monsters of the supernatural kind - of the Hawkins kind - and it's relief enough to keep Billy's spirits up; to have him cracking jokes and making comments every other minute, just so he can watch the way that Harrington's - Steve's - mouth tugs up.

Billy talks about the girls on the screen. Pretty faces, big tits. Hardly any clothes. The main reason lame-o movies like these have an audience. They're tipsy enough that conversation comes easily. There are no lulls of quiet. Billy's mouth is sharp, and Steve's is fast. He asks Billy which girl he likes best. Billy's fingers flex around his beer and, after a beat, he says: the one with the biggest tits.

They're a little tipsy and they're a little horny.

Or.

Steve's a little horny, gaping every time soft, delicate flesh is shown, and that - that look on Steve's face - is what works Billy up.

He can't help it. He has never been able to help it. Billy throws himself into the moment, seeing it as some kind of opportunity. He says, "If only we had chicks like that in Hawkins, huh?"

"Right," Steve agrees on a breath of laughter.

"Bet you could get whichever you wanted. Probably all of 'em."

Steve turns to look at Billy, reluctant to drag his eyes away from girls in sheer nightgowns and silk shorts. He shoots Billy a look, but he's half-smiling, like he can't quite tell whether Billy's giving him shit or not. Like Billy's using some tone that he isn't familiar with. Like he might actually mean what he's saying. "Fuck off."

"Seriously," Billy says, and he's burning up, chasing the thrill of directing Steve's thoughts. "Can you imagine that, man? Having all of 'em. At the same fucking time."

Steve blows out a breath. He's thinking about it; putting Billy's words together and making a pretty picture out of them. "Jesus."

Billy agrees with a low m-hmm, and then he's shifting closer, peeling himself out of the corner of the couch. Knows that it's all wrong and it's a bad idea, but he dims the warning lights with a long pull of his beer, sense and reason growing distant; unimportant.

"Just think about it, Steve," he says, the name an unfamiliar sensation on his tongue. "Those girls all over you. Wanting your attention."

There's hardly any space between them now. Billy has shuffled himself into the centre seat of the couch, and he's close enough to actually feel Steve's reaction. To feel the hitch of his breath; the heat in his face. Steve's eyes are glued to the TV and Billy's eyes are glued to Steve, and it's the best moment, it's now or never, and Billy just. Reaches out slowly, brings his palm to Steve's thigh.

Steve freezes beneath his touch.

Billy's swift. Says, "It's okay." He's smirking, like he's amused by something - keeping this whole thing light and casual. Inside, Billy's heart is kicking. "Someone's excited, huh?"

Even in the dark, the hard, risen shape at the front of Steve's jeans is impossible to miss. Billy's eyes shift from Steve's face and land there.

"Christ, Billy," Steve complains, already getting defensive; already mortified.

"Listen," Billy quickly interjects. "Can I tell you something?"

"What?" Steve asks, and he's sounding confused. Sounding lost.

"Me and a friend, back in California," Billy goes on, and he starts to move his hand. Lets it slide nearer to the inside of Steve's thigh. "We got like this sometimes. Watched movies that had babes in 'em, drank a bit." He's terrified, but his voice is steady enough. "We used to help each other out."

Steve laughs. It isn't loud; it's a low, quiet thing, and it's still confused. "What?"

"Yeah," Billy says. "Got a bit drunk. Bit in the mood. Just helped each other out." His hand trails up, and up further, until his fingers are nudging against Steve's cock. It's stiff, and it's trapped. "Not a big deal. Harmless."

"Billy."

"It's cool," Billy stresses. "Lemme just -"

He wraps his fingers around the solid, hot curve of Steve's cock. It's straining to get out of his jeans. Steve gasps a pretty sound and Billy fucking melts, because he's a disaster; because he's dumb.

"Not a big deal," Billy repeats. "Keep watching the movie, man."

Steve doesn't say anything. Billy's in two minds about continuing until Steve sinks back into the couch and spreads his thighs, and. That's enough of a yes for Billy. It's better than.

He doesn't hang around, just in case Steve changes his mind, and his fingers shift to work Steve's button open, tugging on the zip until there's enough give for Billy to slip his hand beneath his jeans, and then his underwear.

Steve groans and it starts a fire in Billy's belly.

He has to work fast, under the impression that things might shift and change in the next second; that Steve might come to his senses and shove Billy away. Never want to see him again.

Billy's hand is dry. Every stroke is friction, but Steve doesn't seem to mind. With every tug on his cock, Billy tugs a sound out of Steve and he stores them in one corner of his brain, saves them for later.

The movie's still playing, and Steve's eyes are still fixed to the screen, and he's probably thinking about some soft-handed girl, pretty enough to be in front of cameras, and that's fine. It doesn't matter to Billy, because he has his hand around Steve's cock and it's Billy who's bringing those noises out of him, whether Steve likes it or not.

And, maybe Billy's crossing a line when he shifts and drops to his knees, fixing himself on the floor in the gap between Steve's legs and the coffee table. Maybe he is, but. Steve looks down at him once, and then quickly looks away again. Doesn't say a word. Doesn't tell him to stop, and doesn't ask what he's doing.

Billy nudges Steve's cock free and then, with a volume to rival that of the TV, spits into his hand. He brings his damp palm back to Steve's dick, mixing his saliva with the pre that's collecting at Steve's tip. His hand glides more easily, and then he's jerking him off with speed, tucked between Steve's thighs, knees aching where they press into the floor.

Steve's watching the movie, eyes heavy and half-lidded, and it gives Billy the freedom to stare up at him; to watch how Steve's eyelashes flutter. To watch Steve's face change when Billy slows his hand right down, squeezing firmly.

"Fuck," Steve moans. Moans.

Billy's own cock gives a kick in his jeans, begging for attention, but he could do this all night. Could just play with Steve and watch him. Make him come, and then start all over again.

In the background, the movie gets louder. The music grows suspenseful and reaches a blaring crescendo before one of the hot chicks are screaming at the top of their lungs.

Steve groans, but it isn't a good groan. It's something disgruntled and put out, and then he's feeling around his seat for the remote control. Once he finds it, Steve knocks the volume right down. Mutes the goddamn movie, room filling with silence. Billy's heart jumps up into his throat. That little move from Steve has Billy contemplating something even more stupid. Something dangerous.

He has scars on his body, put there by the monster that he still sees in his dreams, but this is bigger. Scarier. Billy's frightened when he shuffles closer on his knees, bows his head and drops a damp kiss to the head of Steve's cock.

He's afraid of how Steve will respond. Afraid that he'll tell everybody. That it'll get back to Neil and he'll die, instead, by the hands of the one monster that he can't shake. Afraid, most of all, that Steve will never invite him inside again.

"Billy," Steve breathes.

Billy pauses, mouth still touching Steve's cock. He waits, stomach flipping violently, but then fingers are stroking through his hair and Billy sighs against Steve's cock, closes his eyes and just. Takes a second.

Only a second, and then Billy's wrapping his lips around Steve's cock and sucking.

Steve pets Billy's hair with a softness that brings tears to his eyes. He fights to keep them from spilling. Still, he supposes, if Steve catches on, it can easily be explained away. Steve's dick is big, and Billy's mouth is open wide. Tears would prick at his eyes sooner or later, anyway.

He builds a rhythm, head bobbing between Steve's thighs, and Steve's fingers, all the while, stay tucked in Billy's curls. Above him, Steve is growing breathless, hips hitching like he can't keep still, and in an unforeseen move, Steve's grabbing the remote control again and switching off the VCR.

It puts an end to the movie, but the TV is still on, displaying a blue screen and lighting up the room. Lighting up Steve, Billy notices, eyes tipping up to look, and -

It's just.

Steve's looking back.

Their gazes meet, and Steve smiles down at him, soft around the edges. Billy's mouth is full, but his eyes, glittering in the electric-blue light of the room, smile for him.

#harringrove #harringroveweek #my writing

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