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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.

We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.

Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.

Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.

And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.

Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.

WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN. - MISHA @sheisjoeschateau PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

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OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”

Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.

“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients.

“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously. “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”

Murray rolled his eyes. Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind. He pointed his spatula in her direction.

“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk. “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving. And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends. Alright?”

Erica narrowed her eyes. “What do I need to know that they don’t?”

Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her. Christ, she was relentless. Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends. That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair. She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.

“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”

“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms. “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret? I need to know all the facts first. Especially if I have to keep it from my brother. And Steve. And Bauman.”

Murray sighed through his nose. She was right. Mature, and right.

“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly. “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention. And truth be told? Harrington needs a break. So does my niece. And your friends? They need some time with mom and dad. You do, too. But right now? You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them. And quite frankly? I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them. Got it?”

Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding. She pursed her lips, considering this. Finally, she nodded.

“Alright. Deal.”

Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.

“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.

“Ohforheaven'ssake —”

__________________________

Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him. Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.

Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams. There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast. She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe.

She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve.

Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up.

And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world.

She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom.

Hopper and Murray were out of the question.

She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it.

And Argyle? Well, he’d said about as much as he could say. Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.

Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.

“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”

Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket. Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly. “It’s uhh, yeah. Plagued at this point. Thanks, Vecna.”

Robin nodded with a smirk. “Yeah. Thanks a lot, Vecna. Fuck you, man.”

That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see. She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything. After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it. And the way she and Robin had started off? Not great. Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck. Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house. But they weren’t exactly best friends. Friends for sure. But not like Nancy and Barb had been. Not even close.

“You know,” Robin mused. “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there. Not like you did.”

That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.

“You and Barb,” Robin explained. “You two were thick as thieves. She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”

Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness. “She did…?”

“Yeah,” Robin smiled. “Always. Saved them on little flashcards and everything. She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’ Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”

Nancy beamed at that. She shook her head, grinning widely. “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip. Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time. As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”

“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted. “What an icon, really.”

“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly. “Yeah, she…she was the best.”

Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.

“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky. “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know? Not just to tell her how sorry I am. For everything that happened before she…”

Nancy’s voice trailed off. Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.

“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook. “So many questions, like…like the way we used to. As best friends. About — everything. Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”

Robin nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Because Robin did know. Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter. Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state. Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington. Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant. The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life. However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.

Barb had been that for Nancy. But she was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked. She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip. “About…anything.”

Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to. Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant. She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together. It just…just...worked. Clicked, made sense. Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real. Really real. Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy. But I didn’t really. Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for. Ever. Not once. He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him. Not the other way around. All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”

Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight. But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept. And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.

“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly. “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone. And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was. The way that I still am. But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”

Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.

“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it. H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him. Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”

Nancy choked on a sob.

Robin knew she meant Barb. She didn’t have to say it.

“I’m angry. For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone. All the time. And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”

Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside. Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.

“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice. “He loves her, and s-she loves him back. S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him. And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…? Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with? I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”

Robin squeezed her. “It’s not selfish. It’s human. Steve is amazing. But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”

“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now. She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes. They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.

“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset. “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”

“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it. “You’re right, I did. We did. Me and Eddie. But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”

Nancy looked at her quizzically. Robin sighed.

“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers. “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey. You had each other. Steve? Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman. Because back then, he didn’t know yet. He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly. “We all know that now.”

“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly. “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”

Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once. Robin picked back up, on cue.

“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do. On his own. Dustin was the first to reach out to him. Well, he basically forced himself on Steve. And Steve needed that. He’s an only child. He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him. You have Mike. Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”

Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.

“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued. “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults. He got left behind to watch the kids with her. They went through…a lot of shit that night. You did, too. But so did they. They fought off Billy Hargrove. They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels. They survived the night together. You know what that feels like. You and Jonathan bonded that way. Right?”

Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing. Eventually, she nods again.

“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids. And that was great. Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth. Like, some sort of femme tomboy. Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"

“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way. At least not at this moment.

“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze. “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright? You know you’re beautiful. You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years. That’s not even a question.”

Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.

“...but Steve had to move on. Or…find ways to convince himself that he could. And Bauman? She was there for that. She was around, during all his growth. And trust me – it was ugly. You have nothing to envy there. God, the way that they argued? The way Steve talked to her, honestly? Honestly. You would’ve slapped him. I sure as hell did a few times. Mostly verbal slapping. But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie. You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth. You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it. She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now. And she owned up to her shit, too. It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault. But hey, she took the hits. Many times. And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over. Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture. Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it. But still, they got through shit together. They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians? She and Steve honestly kept me so sane. And they kept us safe, too. Me, Dustin and Erica. They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world? They did. They didn’t even think twice. Steve grew into a way better person because of her. And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids. She didn’t grow up with siblings either. That’s another thing they have in common.”

Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression. Robin let that sink in before continuing.

“I know this is…a lot. But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone. Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it. Shit, we didn’t know it either. That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray. Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”

Nancy scoffed. “I know that.”

“Of course you do. We all do. He does, too. Especially now. Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”

Nancy’s heart sank at that. She knew that it was true.

“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast. “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him. Or him. I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up. Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”

“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her. “Because who he was then, is not who he is now. And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”

Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.

“Do you still love Jonathan?”

Nancy looked at her, surprised. “What?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently. “Why is that going wrong again?”

Nancy got defensive. “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”

“Right,” Robin mused. “But…what about after he got back? What happened then?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t. She thought about that for a while.

“We just…” she started. “...we just…moved past it. We let it go.”

Robin nodded slowly. “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”

“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped. “I’m so sick of it. I always have to push him to tell me things. He just — shuts me out. Clams up, retreats. He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”

“Well then,” Robin nods. “That’s definitely on him. But what about you?”

Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.

Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.

“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers. “And that I…that we’re fine.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Do you wanna be?”

Nancy’s face crumbles. “I…I want…”

Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.

“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair. “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did. That he would. That he always would —”

Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms. They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle. Nancy has said enough for now. It would all unravel itself more over time.

Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.

“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.

So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.

And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica. They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.

So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.

Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying. She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier. Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin. He stood up, unable to help himself.

“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.

Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.

“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool. “We share a room.”

Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected. She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while. It terrified him, making his anxiety spike. Had he lost her? Was he too late?

He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table. Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable. So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.

Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water. Yikes.

“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in. Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.

Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”

With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.

“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle.

“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin.

“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously.

“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone. Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”

Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.

Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”

“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”

“Does she know?” Nancy asked.

“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”

Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…

Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.

“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”

Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that. Off their nods, he continued.

“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden. Out of sight. Quiet. On high alert. It’s a gamble. Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”

Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread. He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.

“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there. And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”

Everyone’s blood ran cold.

No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.

“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”

Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.

Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.

Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.

Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering.

“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.

“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”

Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against. We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there. Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”

Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”

Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.

“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”

Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look. They knew this wasn’t going to go well. At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.

“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”

That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.

“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”

Jonathan felt sick. This also meant leaving Will behind. “But…how? How can they run?”

“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”

“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly. “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”

“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”

“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time. El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back. She can’t. I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes. “But as far as the rest of you kids go? No more. It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here. But if this is how it’s gotta go down? You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”

Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense.

“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”

“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just…really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”

“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit. He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”

Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low. “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce. And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side. Those kids are going to raise hell. All of them are. And this plan is not changing. It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot. Am I making myself clear?”

Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.

“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is. Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table. “I’m counting on you. I know that’s not fair, but I am. You’re tough as nails. You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends. Your friends. You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him. I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it. Whatever you have to say? Say it. And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me. Understood?”

Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression. But she nodded.

“Understood,” she said, voice low.

Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.

“As for you guys,” he said. “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence. Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us. She can’t be now. And Steve cannot hang back. He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle. And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it. She can’t, and she won’t.”

“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce. “Tell me. If she tries pulling a fast one? You tell me. Capiche?”

Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.

“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him. Since when do he and Steve talk?

“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son. “He’ll need it.”

"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.

“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically. “Via the walkies?”

“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms. “We’ll have to be scarce about it. Selective. Nowhere is safe. It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”

Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding. Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety. Leaving you behind? The kids? Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you. He was an extension of you. The whole situation just felt…fucked.

But wasn’t everything fucked? Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?

Was there actually an end to this nightmare? A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?

Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe. Yes. Yes, this was going to end.

The end of the world was nearing. It was inevitable.

But it wouldn’t be your world.

***

You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.

You’d wondered. Every little girl does. In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination. The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want. The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want. The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after. The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.

Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl. How could you not? It was inevitable.

But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much. You’d been made to grow up from a very young age. Your grandmother had been there for you enough. She kept a roof over your head. Food on the table. A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work. You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely. You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so. She was gone a lot. She wasn’t very old. Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time. A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant." You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it. She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support. Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted. You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city. It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife. It was cool, for the most part. But it definitely meant being able to hold your own. She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.

It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far. He was home a lot. Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much. He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that. It meant consistency. His spare room basically became your room. It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over. You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it. The two of you got along effortlessly. His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray. That’s where you got it from. But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his. He was all over the place. You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often. Your uncle was definitely an oddball. But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.

You weren’t babied. You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world. It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself. It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.

So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start. A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time. Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one. There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.

But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.

Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin. Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds. But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.

El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love. In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them. But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together. It was real love, and you let them be that way.

Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again. Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon. He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright. Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.

Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch. As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody. Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards. Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her. He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max? Always.

Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear. He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve. Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together. Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.

At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.

Lucas had barked the loudest laugh. “How about the one we’re currently living??”

“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected. “I got a better idea. Tell your most embarrassing story. One you’re scared shitless to tell.”

You'd grinned in his arms, snickering. “Oh I got plenty of those.”

“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy. “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”

“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.

“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.

Steve huffed. “Dammit, Wheeler —”

Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.

“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.

You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink. “Trust me. She does.”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand. “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”

“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn. “One time? I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”

“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.

“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand. “I thought it was with a girl —”

“William,” Steve scolded.

“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him. “Shitting his brains out.”

Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time. El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.

“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.

“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled. “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”

Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard. It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high. All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too. Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk. All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy. It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.

And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.

That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots. Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright. You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving. And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.

“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end. Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.

Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group. Technically, Erica was too. But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space. She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.

As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door. That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him. After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you. His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be. But the need for it that night never came.

You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses. Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.

You felt him chuckle against you. “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.

And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it. The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have. But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.

***

Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.

Turns out? All of them wanted this. The two of you together. They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first.

“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”

“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.

“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.

“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.

“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.

“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”

“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable. “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”

“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”

“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.

“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”

“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.

“Me either,” El added quietly.

“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”

“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”

“Hot.”

Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot? It was El.

“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.

Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.

“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.

“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.

“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively.

“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.

“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.

“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.

“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”

“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”

Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”

After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered.

Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready. Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.

Will and Lucas drew each other.

Mike and Erica drew each other.

El and Dustin drew each other.

And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.

Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…

Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.

Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts.

Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.

Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”

Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas.

Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”

“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered.

“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”

Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”

“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.

“One…”

El shrugged. “I dunno.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes.

“Two…”

Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?”

You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”

Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.

“Three!”

Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.

Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper.

El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!

Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party. (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)

Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends. Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.” (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)

You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way. It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe. In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other. He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago. Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving. You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.” Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.

Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing. You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress. It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you. Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined. There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets. And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:

BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)

A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.

You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once. Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.

Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit. He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head. Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts. And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them. Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world. Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.

As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him. All of you were there. Will was there, next to all his friends. You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper. Even your Uncle Murray.

And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique.

She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her. She was alive, as were the rest of you. Very much alive.

Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.

No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together. You had each other.

You always will.

***

Late morning upstairs has been kind to you. It's been light. Hopeful.

There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift. It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling. You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.

As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you. A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.

Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze. He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room. Murray brings him over to introduce you.

“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.

You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully. “Heard a lot about you.”

“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent. He’s definitely seen some shit.

“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye. “Her boyfriend.”

Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes. He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.

Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind. You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin. The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.

This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar. But you could really get used to it. It’s new. And you adore it.

Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well. Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him. Likely because of Hopper. Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn. Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil. Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind. Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug. She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand. You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy. Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost. But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see. She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.

Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room. For Nancy, that had been…hard. Necessary, but hard. For multiple reasons. For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting. Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong. But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night. Not yet. Not after everything that had unfolded. So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart. But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed. Just what the doctor ordered. Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist. Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon. But he was the much simpler kind. Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting. Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed. A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends. Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy. Robin was very different from Barb. However, her heart was just as loving. She loved hard, and it showed. She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return. And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.

So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him. And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve. And she even began to feel some happiness for you. Not completely. Not yet. She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time. A very long time. But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.

Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions. Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.

Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.

Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast. And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet. The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.

***

It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.

Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household. Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens. It wasn’t like all the other times. This was different. Very different.

This one scared you.

Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them. Comfortable. It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.

But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others. And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks. Their faces were somber, a bit grim. Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands. Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous. Maybe even afraid.

They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed. And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got. Tension spread around the room. It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound. They hadn’t uttered a single word. Not one of them. The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.

So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.

You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards. They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.

One list of names would be at the frontlines. The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils.

One list of names would be hiding out here. The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.

Both sides were at risk. Both teams could die. Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.

As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat. His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish. His mind races, but his lips don’t move. Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards. The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him. And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.

You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened. Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now. You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group. With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.

Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did. He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control. He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards. Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud. He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica. Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue. He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother. He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance. Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated. He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride. But even so, he looked conflicted. Really conflicted.

After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie. She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it. You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards. Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs. While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently. As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…

It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious. Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy. Did they know this was coming? Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?

You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them. The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.

“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly. “Truthfully, it’s not owed. I know that. Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me. Not those guys out there. Hence why I’m here. And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things. Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”

He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned. Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense. He knew this was not going to be taken well.

“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before. There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were. “If it were up to me? None of you would be out there. I’d be out there on the frontlines. But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here. Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect. The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this. We’ll be surrounded from all angles. No one is safe.”

You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.

“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman. I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”

“But…what happens if…”

A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction. It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear. He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self. He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.

“…what happens if we’re caught? What do we do? Where do we go?”

Murray sighs, stepping forward. “We’ve thought about that. Right now, there’s only 2 options. But they’re solid. The best we’ve got right now. One more than the other. See, look —”

Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up. And this time might be the last time.

At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life. His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed. Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter. They had him beat, and he knew it. He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen. It was so unexpected that he did as she said. But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion. As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t. Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend. Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense. That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike. Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement. Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.

“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.

“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.

“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop. “Just l-listen to me…”

“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled. “Never!!!”

“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”

Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown. Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him. Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them. All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this. After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.

El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled. He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes.

Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack. He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand. Please Steve, please, let me go with you. Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug. The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time. Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.

You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley. She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf. You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.

Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well. His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.

Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end. She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame. “I - I’m sorry.”

Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs. Jonathan watched her go, panicking. He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading. You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated. You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side. Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.

“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”

Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life. Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest. He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d failed them. But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway. He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them. For them.

Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed. The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him. He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.

You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first. Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul.

You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him. I understand. I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand.

And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language. I love you and I hate this. But I’ve got you.

Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast. He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain.

Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.

Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El. They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.

This plan was not open for discussion.

This plan was not open for debate.

This plan was final.

And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.

***

-- so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.

<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen. - misha

TAGLIST (ILYSM) If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)

@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose nevillescomslut

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #mishas masterlists #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut #joe keery #oh so we do love steve #steve and bauman #murray bauman #jopper #jim hopper #jonathan byers #stancy #sorry stancy

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Cockwarming hopper while he works at his desk at the precinct 💀

this post is 18+, minors dni.

but but but but but consider: he works in a semi-public setting so people are gonna notice someone sitting on his lap all the time, so you sit under the desk and cockwarm him with your mouth

Drool has long since begun to drip from your mouth, seeping out between your lips and staining the fabric of your jeans. Your eyes grow heavy as your tongue bobs against the underside of Jim's cock, suckling steadily on his sex.

You have to keep quiet only because there's someone on the other side of the desk, otherwise you'd be licking and sucking and choking on Jim's cock. He's not technically supposed to have you there, but you'd begged with shiny eyes to come in with him today, and as hard as he tries, he can't say no to you.

"You'll have to take territory disputes to court," Jim drawls, exasperation leaking into his tone. He's trying his hardest to stay polite, but the person he's talking to is just not getting it.

"But it's my fence, too. That's not something that a court has to decide, it's already decided 'cause it's in my fuckin' backyard!"

"Don't swear at me," Jim's voice turns sharp, and more drool pools under your tongue. There's something so arousing about his authority, even when it's not directed at you.

"I'm telling you that there's nothing the police can do. What, do you want us to repaint it for you? Arrest him for choosing the color blue?"

"I want you to do your job!" The man insists, and Jim's hips shift. HIs cock slips further into your mouth, nearly curving down your throat, and you can feel how tense the muscles in his thighs are. You know he's angry, you know he'll blow if you don't stop him, so you reach up, slipping your hand through the zipper of his uniform pants and cupping his balls.

You pull back to lick gently over the head of his cock, then suckle gently around it. With your hand you massage his balls, kneading and stroking the flesh amidst the patch of wiry brown hair there.

You feel him freeze up, gears turning in his brain with whether or not he wants to shout. Then he eases back into his seat, throwing a hand into his lap that doesn't look suspicious to the man he's speaking with.

"My job is to uphold the law." Jim speaks with a low, patient tone now, and he takes the hand in his lap and uses it to stroke his thumb over your cheekbone appreciatively. "Painting a fence is not illegal. If you'd like to take action against your neighbor, you need to convince a court that action is deserved. That is not my job."

"Useless." The man scoffs, and you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor, "You're a real community hero, Chief!"

You worry that Jim will get angry again. That his patience is already wearing thin, that it will snap in two. But he maintains those soothing motions against your cheek while the man stomps away, and as soon as the door to his office shuts, he's pushing his chair back to peer down at you.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He murmurs, a fond twinkle in his eye as your stomach flips at his praise, "Don't know what I'd do without you, y'know?"

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper scenario #jim hopper oneshot #jim hopper one-shot #jim hopper one shot #jim hopper headcanon #jim hopper headcanons #jim hopper hc #jim hopper hcs #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper drabble #jim hopper dialogue #jim hopper x reader fanfiction #jim hopper smut

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rainydayathogwarts · 7 months

Text

Caught - Billy x Byers!reader, mom!Joyce x reader

Byers!Reader wc: ~1.4k Summary: reader sneaks out to meet her boyfriend Billy but bumps into someone unfortunate on her way out. More focused on the reader x mom!Joyce than reader x Billy. Just to make things clear also, it's a loving mother/daughter moment nothing gross or weird.

You almost grinned, tiptoeing to your window in the dark room, purse in hand, careful not to trip over any of the clothes haphazardly thrown on the floor. You winced as you opened the window, careful not to make any sound as you pushed yourself up on your arms, throwing your legs over the ledge. You landed on the opposite side on the wall with a crunch of the leaves under your feet, quickly making your way up the street.

You had gotten used to this routine. Usually, if either you or Jonathan had plans, you'd both go, telling your mom you'd stick together when you actually snuck off to see Billy and Nancy. The plan was foolproof. You both understood each other and would head back home together, ensuring your mom that you were safe. But every now and then when Jonathan didn't have plans, you had to find your own way to go see Billy.

With everything that had happened the past two years in the Byers household, the last thing your mother was going to do was let you go out - especially alone. Especially to meet the boyfriend she didn't know you had. You spotted Billy's car a couple of houses down, waiting to drive you away when you froze, eyes widening.

Staring right back at you was Jim Hopper, the chief of police in Hawkins, Indiana. Standing behind him were Nancy, Steve, Robin and of course, Eleven, who were making their way to your house, inevitably for another meeting.

Hopper took the cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it on the floor and stepping on it, his eyebrows raised and you physically cringed, tugging your low cut top up your chest. He definitely knew what you were up to, especially in that short blue skirt you wore, specifically to give Billy easy access. Your eyes wandered behind him, looking back at the other teenagers who all looked equally as confused as each other, with the exception of Nancy who grinned widely at you.

The silence was deafening.

The sound of the front door opening averted Hopper's gaze back which gave you the perfect opportunity to run back to the side of the house, where your mom wouldn't see you. "We saw you guys standing out here, what are you doing?" You heard your mom say, and prayed Mr. Hopper would keep your secret, just this once.

You didn't hear his answer, the door closing behind them. You had two options, you decided; either you could sneak back in and leave Billy hanging, or you could make a run for it. You sighed, looking through your window one last time before sprinting up to Billy's car down the street so that your mom wouldn't see you leaving.

You slammed his car door behind you, lowering yourself in the passenger seat as you caught your breath, whisper-yelling "Go, Billy, go!" He chuckled, having seen the entire exchange and stated calmly "Well that was a close one wasn't it?" When you were far enough from your house, you straightened up, leaning over the controls to press a glossy kiss to Billy's cheek. He put a hand on your thigh, heading in the direction of the forest, where he parked and you both headed straight into his back seat.

It was an entanglement of sweaty bodies and humidity, causing Billy to reach behind your head to open the window, the awkward position causing you to whine at him. He pounded into you, your skirt bunched up at your waist, your top laying on the floor as he mouthed at your tits, leaving hickeys everywhere he could. Your nails scratched at his back, causing Billy to hiss as he quickened his pace, getting you both closer to the edge. It was blissful, both of you giggling and exchanging wet kisses when you were done, catching each other up on your day, oblivious to what was awaiting you at home.

It was only when you were standing in front of the house with the curtains open, making direct eye-contact with an angry looking Joyce Byers that it suddenly hit you that if the others were here for a meeting, they probably would have needed you too.

You picture it in your head, your mom opening the door to your room, her heart dropping when she sees you're not in bed. Hopper wincing when she yells your name, reassuring her that you're fine, you're not alone. You just headed out. You can imagine her livid during the meeting, worried yet furious because all this time she wanted you to be safe, you'd been betraying her trust to meet a silly boy. Jonathan feeling guilty, but he doesn't want to throw himself under the bus just so that she can be angry at the both of you. It's not his fault that you got caught and he didn't.

You see heads turning to look at you through the window, wanting to see what's busying Joyce's gaze and you put your head down, walking towards the front door. You push your key into the keyhole, twisting it once, twice, and you hear the door unlock each time. Your other hand comes up to rest on the doorknob, and you hit your head on the door, taking a deep breath. You pull your key out with a groan, pushing the door open, avoiding your mom's gaze to the best of your ability.

"Y/N Byers. Look at me right now." The room is absolutely silent at the tone of your mother's voice and you look up with a sigh, seeing Jonathan's eyes widen. He starts shaking his head at you from behind where your mother is now standing, walking towards you. You swallow once, knowing that there's something wrong - more wrong than just sneaking out, but you can't wrap your finger about it, and Jonathan certainly wasn't helping you guess.

It's only when Joyce's hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair behind your shoulder that you realise, jerking away from your mother as you rush to your bathroom to desperately cover your hickeys, knowing fully well that she's already gotten a good look at them. There's three aggressive knocks at the door "Y/N I've already seen, come out now."

Embarrassment tugs at your chest and tears start to prick your eyes, but you forcefully wipe them away. You put your makeup brush down, looking up at your half covered hickeys. You still had three on the opposite side of your neck that were on full display and one was half covered by your top, leaving the rest to the imagination. When you open the door, Joyce is sitting on your bed, and she pats the spot next to her. You trodded over to her, keeping enough space between you as you let her talk, keeping your head down.

"Now under regular circumstances, I'd be happy for you and ask who this young man is, but I'm really disappointed Y/N. I thought we had a deal." You sigh, picking at your nails, knowing that if you said something, it would come out louder and angrier than you'd meant it to be. "Is this the same boy who snuck in last month?" You furrow your eyebrows, finally looking at her. Despite everything, you laugh whole-heartedly. "That was probably Nancy, mom. She basically lives here."

You watch as her jaw drops. "Nancy as in Nancy in my living room Nancy?" You nod "Her and Jonathan are-?" She doesn't finish her sentence, sitting there silently instead. "Do I need to have a talk with you and your brother about using protection with boyfriends and girlfriends?" She asks genuinely, frowning slightly. "No mom! God no!" You yell, shaking your head. "So... You're using protection with this guy?" "Billy." You confirm, nodding at her. "-Because at least Jonathan could decide to not be involved, but you would have to carry it." Your face flushes red and your hand comes up to scratch the side of your head, hiding your face from her.

"If I show you a photo of Billy, will you please stop asking me humiliating questions?" You ask, already getting off the bed to retrieve a box of polaroids. You open the box and gasp, desperately trying to cover the photo of you and Billy making out on the top of the pile, accidentally pushing it away from you and sending all the polaroids flying. Joyce laughs, shaking her head as she mutters something about you embarrassing yourself.

You lean down, pulling some wholesome photos from the floor and handing them over to your mom, who observes them closely. She hums, going through them, and finally says "But even if you didn't use protection...You two would have beautiful babies."

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strangermarvelss · 2 years

Text

positive- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Hopper!AFAB!Reader

Summary: you find out you’re pregnant with eddie’s baby

Warnings: ANGST, hopper being angry, eddie being a dingus, crying, fighting, mentions of abortion, cursing, fluff, happy ending

Request?: Yes

Reader is hoppers daughter, and finds out she’s pregnant. I want so much angst my heart breaks

I’d love some kind of angst situation between hopper daughter reader, hopper and Eddie. Really open to anything, if you could include El too that would be great. Like reader and her get into an argument or something about Eddie and then that leads to hopper finding out reader is dating Eddie. Then more angst lol

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this is the first fic in the collab sleepover i’m doing and ooh it’s exciting! also this may be a hopper afab reader, but i didn’t include any details about race or anything particular, so it could be read as an adoptive hopper daughter as well, i just don’t mention that in the fic. enjoy! -sava

Positive. Fucking positive.

You throw the test against the bathroom wall, a frustrated groan escaping your lips. The past year of your life had been amazing and you thought things couldn’t get any better, and that was correct. The universe saw your happiness and decided to knock you down a peg, only this was a very big peg.

You’ve managed to keep your relationship with Hawkin’s resident metalhead, Eddie Munson, a secret for a little over year now, with only a selected few knowing. The main reason you kept it a secret was due to word traveling fast in this town, and your father being police chief Jim Hopper doesn’t help. One wrong move and the two of you would be busted, and you didn’t even want to think about what your father would do if he found out.

Although it was going to be hard hiding a baby bump for a whole nine months. Then hide the actual baby.

You felt tears pricking behind your eyes, the frustration becoming overwhelming as your mind becomes full of hundreds of scenarios that could happen. You feel a few tears trickle down your cheeks as you hug your knees close to your chest. Your dad was going to kill you or Eddie, or even both of you, and that was the last thing you wanted, especially if you didn’t get to tell Eddie about the unexpected news.

Eddie’s reaction was another you were worried about. The two of you never talked about the possibility of kids, considering you were both so young and the relationship was still being built up, even a little over a year later. Plus, you were barely out of high school and Eddie is about to start his second repeat of his senior year, so the two of you were not mature enough to raise a child, especially with Eddie’s dreams of making it big and escaping Hawkins once and for all.

“Y/N? Are you almost done? I have to use the restroom,” Your sister, El calls out from behind the door. Before you have a chance to answer, she opens the door and you let out a grunt.

“El what the fuck!” You yell out, standing up and running to where you threw the test, quickly hiding it behind your back. Her eye flicker down to your hands before looking at your eyes again.

“What is that?” She asks, pointing to behind you.

“Nothing,” you shrug. You try your best to keep a neutral face, but you know you can’t keep things from your sister. Your heart rate begins to quicken, scared of how this is all going to play out.

“Siblings don’t lie,” she tells you simply, giving you a knowing look. You roll your eyes and go to move past her, trying to get to your bedroom before she can question you further.

“That bullshit line might work on your friends, but it won’t work on me, El. Just let it go,” you tell her, turning the knob to your door, but before you can walk in she uses her powers to shut it on you. You turn to her with a glare and cross your arms.

“Please talk with me. Maybe…maybe I can help?” She asks, her features soft as she takes a step closer to you.

“El, please, can we talk about it later? I don’t need Dad hearing this conversation.”

“Why not?” Hopper asks, his figure frozen in the door way. You both turn your heads towards the door, not having heard the door even open. You slowly blink at him, feeling as if your eyes were playing tricks on you. This cannot be happening right now.

“Y/N is hiding something from me! And she looks upset so I just want to help,” El explains to him. You run your free hand over your face, a groan leaving your lips.

“Y/N? What are you hiding? You can tell us anything, you know that right?” Your father questions, taking more steps inside the cabin and closing the door behind him.

“Yeah well, not everything,” you mumble under your breath. Your father’s eyebrows shoot up in a concerned expression.

Suddenly, you watch El sneakily go behind you and grab the used test from your hands, your throat letting out a loud scream and attempt to grab it back from her, only for your father to grab it from her and hold it above his head for a moment.

You’re absolutely fucked.

He lowers the test to eye level and examines it, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he looks up at you. You quickly look to the floor, not wanting to be the subject of your father’s intense gaze.

“Y/N…why the fuck do you have a positive pregnancy test?” He asks, his voice low but calm, which was scarier than his yelling voice at times. Your lips are tightly pressed together, unable to form a coherent sentence to answer him.

“What does that mean? Did you pass the test?” El questions unknowingly. Part of you wanted to laugh at her question, knowing she genuinely was curious as she’s never encountered a situation like this before. You peer up at your father, his face twisted in rage, sending an unsettling feeling to the pit of your stomach.

“El, go to your room...now. Y/N, answer the goddamn question,” he demands. You watch El scurry off to her room, leaving the door open three inches as she always did.

“The test…it’s mine,” you whisper out, but loud enough for him to hear. Looking at him, you watch as he turns to the wall closest to him and slams his fist against it. Flinching, you feel yourself leaning against the door, cowering a little.

You loved your relationship with your father, the two of you always being close since you can remember. But he was strict, and you knew it was because he cared about you. Most of his rules were obtainable, but you found it unfair that El was allowed to have a boyfriend, even if your father hated him, and be out in the open with that relationship. Whereas you were not allowed the same luxury.

“How could you be so reckless?! You know you’re not even allowed to date, I assumed you knew that applied to sex as well! Like seriously, Y/N did you even think this through?” He screamed. You felt the tears begin to fall again, unable to keep the eye contact with him. “Who is this punk? I need to go set him straight.”

“No! Dad, I haven’t even told him yet, please just calm down,” you plead, walking forward towards him. Your face was full of sadness as you looked at him, but the only thing you could focus on was the disappointment etched within this face.

“Absolutely not. You’ve lost my trust and now you’re not going anywhere for the foreseeable future, I’ll make sure of it,” he yells, his face dangerously close to yours. Tears continue to roll down your face as anger bubbles in your chest.

“You’re being so unfair right now! How come its okay for El to be with Mike all the time, but I even think about having a boyfriend, and it’s the biggest crime in the world? It’s such a double standard!” You yell back. His face contorts into a surprised expression, which you were surprised about as well. You weren’t big on fighting him back on things, but this was scaring the shit out of you, and his reaction wasn’t helping the matter.

“Yeah? Well El isn’t out there having sex! Hell, I didn’t think you were either, but I guess I was wrong,” he huffs. He wipes his hand across his face and lets out a long sigh. “I just don’t understand how you could be so stupid.”

Your lip begins to wobble as you look to the floor once more, this words cutting deep. You hated being on his bad side, and having him insult you for a mistake just made you feel worse. You scurry across the room and grab your car keys from the table beside your father’s chair and make a quick escape, running to your car and opening the driver’s door.

“No, no, no! Where the hell are you going?!” Hopper shouts from the doorway. You wipe away your tears that had puddled on your cheeks, looking at him.

“I’m sorry you hate me dad, but I have to go tell the father. He deserves to know before I’m never seen by the world again.”

———————————————————————————————

Your knuckles knock against the door to Eddie’s trailer, your hands beginning to shake. Comfort was the only thing you wanted most in the world right now, your life doing a complete 180 turn just by taking a simple test. Eddie may have a tough exterior demeanor he puts on for the rest of the town, but he was a sweetheart deep down, a side of him you loved being able to see. He was a safe haven that you never knew you could need.

Eddie comes into view as the door opens, his smile stretching across his face as his eyes meet yours. You look at him with a worried expression, still visibly shaking, which he is quick to notice. He approaches you and immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close to his body and he rubs his hands against your arms.

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” Eddie asks as he motions you inside. You walk through the door of the trailer and into the living area, sitting on the couch as your leg bounces. Eddie swoops in and sits next to you, his hand interlocking with yours and rubbing small circles against the back of your hand. You look over at him with doe eyes, fear banging around your chest.

“M-my dad knows. About u-us,” you let out, your hand gesturing between the two of you. His eyes go wide, fear written across the once smiling face.

“I’m sorry…what?” He asks you. His thumb was still rubbing small circles on your hand, which was starting to ease your worries, but not entirely. You simply nod at him, looking down to advert his gaze as you let out a long sigh. “H-how’d he find out?”

“He found my pregnancy test,” you mumble, your eyes glued to the floor. Eddie’s movements against your hand come to a halt, his hand dropping from your own, making you look up at his eyes, which are wider than they were before, his jaw hung open.

Your throat became dry all of a sudden, the silence in the room becoming suffocating. Eddie’s eyes were locked on yours, searching for any indicator that you were joking, just fucking around and pulling his leg. You let a tear slip past the dam that had built up, shaking your head as you bury your head in your hands.

“How the hell did this happen?” Eddie finally manages to let out.

“Believe it or not Eds, the pull out method doesn’t always work,” you chuckle out, a pathetic attempt to ease the tension that lurked in the air, but you’re only met with an unamused glare from your boyfriend.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” he says, rising from the couch and beginning to pace in the living room. You try to hide the hurt that hits your chest at his tone when saying your name and the lack of pet name accompanying his words, shaking it out a bit. “What the fuck are we going to do? I’m not ready to be someone’s fucking father! Jesus H. Christ, I should’ve had condoms on hand at all times.”

“I don’t know, Eds. I’m j-just really fucking scared,” you tell him honestly. He shoots you a knowing look, his face emotionless.

“Yeah no shit, me too,” he stops his motions, snapping his fingers as the lightbulb above his head goes off. “W-what if you got an abortion?”

Your eyebrows raise as you look at him, shocked that it was his first suggestion. You’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, but this information was still new, you wanted to try and talk with Eddie to see what the two of you could do about this situation before thinking of that. It was really just a last resort for you.

“I-I don’t think I want that,” you answer simply. He lets out a groan and runs his hands over his face, turning away from you and hunching a bit.

“Then what the fuck do you want to do then, Y/N? We’re not ready to be parents! Shit, I’m still in goddamn high school! I can’t even think about a baby right now, plus you know about my plans to get out of this fuckin’ town-“

“Yeah Eddie, I’m fully aware of your plans. I had plans too but accidents like this happen,” you yell out. He turns back to look at you, surprised by the sudden change in tone. “I get that you’re not ready to be a parent, and I’m not either, but we’re both to blame for this shit, okay? Don’t try and put this all on me,” you stand from your seat and point a finger into his chest. He smacks it away and lets out another frustrated groan.

“I’m not putting it all on you! You’re the one who doesn’t know if they want an abortion, so I’m out of options here. I told you I don’t want to be a dad now, so I’m done!” He all but screams. You take a step back from him, shock seeping into your bones as you look at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean ‘you’re done’?” You ask him. He shakes his head and chuckles maliciously for a second before turning to you once more.

“It means I’m done with this conversation. I’ve shared my peace, so do what you want. It’s not like I have a real say anyway,” he responds. You feel your heartstrings tug tightly, pain surging throughout your chest as you let out a deep sigh, fighting to keep any more tears from falling.

Eddie’s figure retreats into his room, slamming the door closed and quickly puts on his stereo, the volume booming and shaking the entire trailer. You hold yourself in your position for a moment, your face crumpling into a sad expression now that your boyfriend, if you should still call him that, was out of eyesight.

You will yourself to walk towards the door of his trailer and down the steps, opening your car door once more and hopping inside. You weren’t sure where you’d end up going, with the two places you felt safest and loved most tumbling down all because of an accident you didn’t mean to happen. Turning on the engine, you back out of your parking spot and drive towards the exit of the Forrest Hills trailer park, unsure of your next destination.

———————————————————————————————

The suns seeping in through the cheap motel blinds pulls you from your sleep, sitting up on the bed and stretching your arms with a yawn. You decided to not bother anyone else you were close to with the news of your unplanned pregnancy, having already severed ties with the two men in your life you loved most and not wanting to break anymore relationships. You were able to pay for a night’s stay at a motel on the outskirts of Hawkins with the money you kept on you for emergencies, now regretting that as you’d need as much money as you could get your hands on to raise a child, or an out of state stay for an abortion procedure, if it came down to it.

You quickly get dressed back in your pants from yesterday, having slept in only your shirt and underwear. You grab what little belongings you had with you and exit the room, returning the key to the front desk worker who helped you last night.

The drive back to the cabin felt shorter than it was, your mind thinking back on the events that transpired the day before and the pang of sadness flooding your system returning the closer you got back to your home. You’re not sure what’s going to happen when you walk through the door, but hopefully gathering your belongings wouldn’t cause too much damage.

Parking the car, you’re surprised to see the police vehicle still sitting in front of the cabin, making your nerves worsen as you approach the steps. Turning the knob, you walk inside and see Hopper sitting across from El, who has a blindfold on and sitting with her legs crossed on the floor. Your father turns to you and lets out a huff, tapping El on the knee to tell her to stop her motions. She removes her blindfold and her face lights up at the sight of you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“Hi,” you let out, a small wave accompanying your words. El waves back to you and stands, running over and wrapping her arms around you. You return the gesture and cross your arms around her shoulders, resting your chin on top of her head.

“Where were you last night kid?” Your father asks, now standing with his arms crossed on the other side of the room. You retreat from El and cross your arms as well, looking to the floor to avoid his disappointed gaze.

“I slept at a motel, but it seems you might've figured that out,” you reply as you gesture to El, who has a nervous smile on her face after being called out for using her powers. You feel El’s hand rub your back softly, sending her a slight smile before peering up to your father’s eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he tells you simply.

“Felt like I did.”

“Just because I’m upset about what happened, doesn’t mean I don’t love you and don't want you at home, where it is safe. I was just…shocked to hear it all at once. You’re dating, having…intercourse, and now having a baby? It was a lot to take in yesterday, and my temper got the best of me. I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he explains to you. Your face softens as you listen to him, the sadness from yesterday beginning to feel slightly better.

“Thanks Dad,” you say. You walk closer to him and wrap your arms around his torso, burying your head in his chest. He snakes his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. You feel a surge of emotions rush throughout your system. “I’m really scared.”

“I know, I know kiddo. But El and I will be here for you, whatever you want to do, okay?” he pulls back a little and looks you in the eyes. He wipes your tears away with his hand and you smile. El comes by you guys and joins your hug, sending you into a fit of giggles as you all embrace each other.

The three of you hang out for the rest of the day, talking about your options and later playing card games to help distract you from the whole scenario. Your father asked about the father once again, but when he saw your expression and change in body language when bringing it up, he didn’t harp on the matter any further.

After retreating off to your own room, you put on a cassette tape in your room on a low volume before sitting on your bed, the door open three inches like your father always requests. You pull open a notepad and begin making a list of pros and cons of your options regarding the child growing inside you currently, trying to think quickly on a definitive decision on this life changing situation you’ve been dealt.

A light tapping sound pulls you from your motions, looking outside your bedroom window to see the silhouette of Eddie waving his hand timidly. You roll your eyes and go back to your list, only to be met with more intense tapping. You toss the list aside and go over to your window, lifting it enough to see him in the light of your bedroom.

“What do you want Eddie?” You ask him, crossing your arms. He lets out a sigh and points to inside your room, making you shake your head. “He’s home, so that definitely wouldn’t be the best idea. Considering our new predicament as well…”

“Fine, um…how about you meet me on your porch stairs?” He suggests, his eyes wide but soft as they look at you. You nod and shut the window, making an escape from your bedroom and walking past your dad in the living room, catching a glimpse of whatever show he was watching while lounging in his recliner. You open the front door and shut it quickly, seeing Eddie’s figure dash from behind the cabin. You sit down on the steps and let out a sigh as he joins you.

“How are you? Everything going okay with you and, uh…it?” He questions, pointing towards your stomach. You roll your eyes once more and look towards him.

“Yep, as good as it can be,” you answer simply. You play with your hands and look down towards your feet, the insects around you filling the silence that began to loom about you two.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday, Y/N,” he tells you, his voice coming out quiet and sincere. You look over at him with a sympathetic smile, his lips curving into one as well. “I was just so scared and I didn’t know how to let my feelings be known. A shit childhood can stunt you like, believe it or not.”

You giggle at his attempt to ease the tension, knowing that it can be difficult for him to express how he feels at moments. He’s never been given a chance to be treated right or brought up to know what’s good and bad, not until he was placed in Wayne’s care, but it’s hard to mold and condition a brain that’s nearly fully developed.

“I get that, Eds, I do. But I was scared too. Got yelled at by my dad and embarrassed in front of El? It just felt really bad coming over to you for comfort but finding the exact opposite,” you explain to him. You watch him nod and reach out for you, closing the space between you and resting your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing the arm snaked around you.

“I know baby, I really am sorry. If it helps, Wayne tore me a new one today after I explained it all to him. He really wasn’t happy with the way I treated you, which kinda helped me pull my head out of my ass and come here to apologize,” he reveals. You laugh and reach for his free hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

“That kind of does help actually,” you tell him with a smile. His laugh causes his entire body to move, shaking you a bit as well.

“So…how are things with your dad? He still upset?”

“He probably is, but we spent the day talking about what my options are, and he said he and El will be there for me no matter what I decide to do,” you answer him.

“Well you can add me to that list, sweetheart. I promise I’ll be on board with whatever you decide, and we’ll get through it together, alright?” He lifts you gently from his shoulder to look you in the eyes, his chocolatey orbs glistening in the moonlight. You nod your head softly and press your lips to his, inhaling the scent of his leather jacket and cigarette breath.

“YOU NEVER TOLD ME THE FATHER WAS THE FUCKING MUNSON KID!” Your father shouts from the door way. The two of you pull away from one another with wide eyes and Eddie all but jumps to his feet off the porch, making you giggle just a bit.

“Hey Chief, hope you’re doing well. I really like your daughter sir, but I’m gonna-gonna go now. Love you Y/N, see ya later sweetheart!” He rushes out, sprinting towards his van as your father runs down the stairs in an attempt to catch him, all while you and El, who had been standing behind your dad, sit back on the porch laughing at the two boys.

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eupheme · 2 years

Text

Sweet Summer Lemonade

Jim Hopper x F!Reader

Rated E - 7.8k

Tags: dub-con (because of sex pollen) (but with very mutual attraction), use of alcohol and cigarettes, age gap, mentions of death, fingering, oral sex (f rec.), size kink, PiV, mult. orgasms, grump + sunshine, mutual pining, loose pov

Summary:

“So… you and the chief, huh?”

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

“Uh huh.” Murray answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

(Or - when you go to Murray’s for some help, you end up with a little more than you bargained for)

Your nose crinkles as the truck finally slows to a halt on the packed-dirt path, just outside the industrial-sized garage door. Debris lines the concrete building, a busted office chair, turned on its side - mechanical parts cushioned against the tall, barbed-wire fence by overgrown tufts of knee-high grass.

“You sure this is the right place?” Your words are directed slowly at Hopper, throwing your shoulder into the door as you open it - the old hinges creaking with the effort.

He’s already out of the truck, the piece of paper crumpled in his hand, shoving it into the back pocket of his light jeans, “This is it.”

Here goes, you think, making for the door, but a hand is catching your elbow, dragging you back. Glancing back at the frown on Hopper’s face, as he leans down to your level, letting you go so his hands can brace on his thick thighs.

“You stick close to me,” His voice is low and hushed, a rough edge to it, “And don’t touch anything inside unless I say so. Got that?”

Annoyance prickles at you - you were in the tunnels last year, same as the rest, and you had come out just fine. Whoever this man was had to be a cakewalk in comparison. He didn’t need to pull the macho-cop act, you weren’t a teenager like the others.

“Nancy said he was nice.” You counter, lifting your sunglasses, perching them on top of your head as you fix him with a look.

The crease between his forehead deepens, the edges of his lips turning down, “Just do what I tell you, okay?”

Your head tilts, his eyebrow raises in response. And fuck - the way he’s seeming to loom over you, big and broad, prickles at you in a different kind of way.

“Fine.” You blink, averting your eyes.

“Good.” He straightens, giving you one last weary look before heading to the front door.

Secretly, you had been hoping this trip would be a little more... interesting. For weeks now, the two of you have been exchanging lingering looks, finding half-hearted excuses to move just a little bit closer.

And when this short trip had come up, you had jumped at the opportunity. Because of the reason it was being taken, of course - and selfishly, for the chance to spend a little more time with him.

But so far today... nothing.

Unless you count the brush of an elbow against yours as it sat on the armrest. Not exactly the steamy encounter you had daydreamed about.

His fist raps a pattern on the rusted metal door, once - twice. Finally, a face peeking out as it cracks open, the room behind dim, curtains pulled tight.

The man’s face pulling downward when he sees who it is, eyes narrowing behind glasses, mouth twisting, "Oh, not you.”

Hopper's foot quickly jamming in the space, preventing it from shutting all the way, “We need to talk to you. It’s about what happened.”

There’s a long pause before the man nods - Hopper’s foot pulling back so the door can shut, the chain latch undone before it opens again.

You follow behind into the house, the inside not a far cry from the outside. But it’s fascinating in a way, the wall of televisions, the man himself - an old robe worn open like a cardigan over a tight white tank, grey sweats.

“Thank you, Mr. Bauman.” You step around Hopper, your hand extended, “We’re hoping you might be able to help us, please.”

Murray’s eyebrows lift when he sees you, the downturned edge of his lip kicking up, “And who is this?”

His handshake is firm, and you smile as you give your name, explaining, “One of Hopper’s friends.”

“Hm. Didn’t think the old grump had any friends,” He gives Hopper a sidelong look, Hopper’s hands jamming in his pockets as he scowls back.

“Just in case you were wondering, that is how you ask for help,” Murray tells him, amusing himself, before he turns back to you, “What can I do for you, sunshine?”

Throwing a look at Hopper for confirmation, you start, “Well, we wanted to see if you still had the original copy of the tape Nancy and Jonathan brought you.”

“Something is happening again,” Hopper cuts in, easing himself into the circle of conversation, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe with the gate, maybe with El. We wanted to see exactly what they said.”

Murray shoots both of you a puzzled look, “Why’d you come out this way? Can’t you just ask them?”

You fidget, the same thing already discussed in the car. Hopper handles this one again, ”We don’t want to cause any… unnecessary panic. If we ask either, it’s going to spread. We want to do our own digging first.”

Murray thinks about that, plucking the glasses from his face, polishing them slowly on the edge of his robe.

“Please Mr. Bauman?” You ask, your hands clasped in front of you, the sound of your words drowning out Hopper’s annoyed grunt.

“God, please - Mr. Bauman was my father. It’s just Murray.” He looks back up after a long pause, slowly nodding, “But, fine. I can make you a copy. Have to find it first, but I will.”

Your answering smile is relieved - how long could that possibly take?

———

The three of you have been searching for hours now, sifting through beat-up boxes of hastily-labeled tapes in one of the side rooms, taking turns checking possibilities.

It’s slow going - you were quickly relieved of checking duty after you found a tape that leaned towards the illicit. Gasping as Hopper moved in front of you to shut off the high-pitched, recorded moans as he growled out a “Jesus Christ Bauman, she doesn’t need to hear that.”

“It was research for a story!” Murray had insisted, rolling his eyes, hands spread wide.

Now, you were on sorting duty, making stacks for Hopper to check, sweat beading on your brow as you dug through the piles. Even with the drapes drawn, hiding the summer sun, it was warm in the stuffy house - the nearest fan just out of reach as it rotates slowly.

Finally giving up, your arms stretching over your head as you rise, winding your way over to where Murray was working on his own stack.

“Murray, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” Your palm fans your face, the slight gust of air barely soothing the heat.

“Sure, sunshine. Help yourself,” He wipes his own brow, glancing up from his place on the floor. “I’m almost done. Grab a glass for me, too.”

The single bulb flickers in the kitchen, an ancient fridge tucked between two countertops. You revel in the blast of cool air as you open the door, stooping to peer inside.

It’s relatively clean, the shelves clear on one side, jars and condiments lining the other. There’s some beer cans half-way back and you reach for one, dragging it out. When you go to grab another, your fingers knock against a rounded glass bottle, the label curled and worn.

It wobbles dangerously, the cap loose on the narrow neck. The liquid inside - a thick, viscous pink - sloshes onto your knuckles as you catch it with the back of your hand. Trapping it between another container before you carefully nudge it upright.

Your hand withdraws, setting the second can on the counter before you bring it to your nose. The bright residue smells like summer, fresh fruit. Sticky sweet and cloying.

Without thinking, you taste it, licking up the drop that tracked across your knuckles. It seems to soak into your tongue, the taste almost familiar. Reminding you vaguely of the prickly pear lemonade you had on vacation a couple years ago.

Bright and sweet as bubblegum, the tart bite tickling your throat as you swallowed. No worries back then - just summer and sunshine ahead.

You blink, a funny tingling on your tongue, the rest rinsed off in the sink - dried on the dingy dishtowel.

The crisp crack of the can opening is music to your ears. The beer is cheap but you’re not complaining, it’s cool going down your throat - the can pressed against your forehead after you swallow.

Murray joins you a minute later, and you offer him the second can, but he shakes his head.

“Should have specified,” He tells you, dragging a bottle from the freezer, filling the bottom third of a glass.

Drinking the vodka like it’s water, nose scrunching as he swallows. You side-eye him, as you against the counter, elbows pressing against the stained laminate.

Taking your own sip much more slowly, his head turning to look at you.

“Helps me think.” Murray offers, though you weren’t about to ask. There’s a long pause, before his head tilts, “So… you and the chief, huh?”

You choke on the mouthful, coughing as you swallow. Hopper had warned you that he was blunt - a good guy, but not one to mince words.

But it’s almost refreshing, after the passive aggressive tip-toeing around you so often get at work. Right to the point, nice and neat.

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

Facing him, you miss the way Hopper’s head tilts in your direction as he listens to a new tape, eyes dragging slow over the cocked curve of your hips - but Murray does not.

“Uh huh.” He answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if he knows something you don’t.

The prospect makes your heart thud, a wishful anticipation in your chest as you answer, “Well, I don’t really know. Sometimes I think there’s something, and then other times he doesn’t notice me at all.”

Not telling him that a part of you thinks he’s hung up on someone else. And the worst part is you get it, it makes sense - they have all that history. And you’re just tripping after him like a lost little puppy.

“Jim’s a pretty direct guy.” Murray interrupts your thoughts, and your answering nod is slow, a little unsure of his meaning.

A pause - before he pats your shoulder, draining the rest of his glass, “Just something to think about.”

Okay, I guess, you think - finishing the remnants of your own drink, finding what looked like a recycling bin for the empty can. After a moment, taking the extra beer you had grabbed over to Hopper. Offering it to him wordlessly as you lean over the back of the couch, next to his shoulder.

He takes it, a thankful curve to his lips, fingers overlapping yours as his hand wraps around the can. For a second, you almost forget to let go - too focused on the way your skin seems to buzz under the brush of his fingertips.

“Thought you forgot about me.” He nods towards the kitchen, cracking it open with a hiss.

You watch the bob of his throat as he swallows, a curl of heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks. Trying to keep your voice from sounding too much like a sigh when you reply, “Never.”

Clearing your throat, trying to keep on track, “Any luck?”

“Not sure. Think we’re getting close though, these are from the same time.” He sighs, leaning back against the cushion, arm trailing along the back - swapping the tape out for another.

The voice that plays from this one is familiar - the recoding caught mid-sentence.

“-you mean without shutting us up?-”

You’re grabbing at his arm, swinging around the edge of the couch to take the seat next to him. Leaning into him to listen, “Wait, wait, that’s it!”

His eyes flash to yours, the recording playing just long enough to confirm it. A relieved smile flashing across his face, before his arm drops to curl around you - a squeezing half-hug of victory.

The tape is handed off to Murray to make a copy, and you stay selfishly seated on the couch. Nothing to do but wait until the copy is made, the edge of his arm still brushing your shoulders.

But the more you sit - the denser the air feels, humid and sticky hot. Your pulse seems to thud in your ears, a steady, dull pattern.

“Is it warm in here?” You ask idly, fingers plucking at the neck of your sundress, peeling it back to get some air against your skin, “Like, more than before?”

He frowns, his eyes averting when you glance his way, his legs shifting, “It’s warm. But it’s cooler than outside, that’s for sure.”

It doesn’t seem that way to you - you’re not sure how he’s able to wear jeans in this heat, even with the beachy, button-up shirt. The sleeves stretch tight across his biceps as his arms cross, your eyes slow to pull away as he adds, “Maybe you just need some fresh air.”

You nod - that makes sense, and you silently wish for Murray to hurry up, as much as you’re enjoying the current seating arrangements.

Now that the tape has been found, copying it goes quickly, the audio conversation as short as it was. Hopper tucking the tape into his shirt pocket, patting his chest as you push yourself to your feet.

It takes an effort, your limbs feeling not quiet coordinated. Your mind a little fuzzy, skin buzzing and tilting towards oversensitive. Maybe the beer wasn’t as cheap as you thought - maybe it was your empty stomach.

Hopper’s eyes narrow when he notices the slight sway in your posture, as Murray not-so-subtly herds you towards the front door. You still manage a thank you, and even a hug that you’re surprised that he accepts, “Thank you for helping us, it means a lot.”

“You’re both welcome back anytime.” Murray tells you cheerfully, the words almost cut off as the door shuts, the latch chain sliding into place immediately.

Leaving the two of you alone, blinking into the sunlight - the slight breeze welcome on your face. You’re still looking dazedly at the door when Hopper’s hand brushes your back, a gentle nudge towards the truck.

His words slow, eyeing you as you start to move, “Let’s get you in the truck”.

You’re compliant, unprotesting as he opens the door, climbing in. Slumping against the seats rolling the window down as he gets in on the other side.

The truck roars to life, reversing out of the lot, dirt kicking up from the driveway as he pulls back onto the main road.

Time seems to lose its meaning as the miles tick down, you’re not sure if it’s been minutes or an hour - the heat in your face and neck starting to feel like it’s moving downwards.

It should be a moment to remember, just the two of you, a beautiful summers day. A warm breeze on your face as the radio rolls through favorites - Springsteen, Rolling Stones, Tom Petty. Songs you know by heart sounding faded as thoughts you kept buried deep inside push to the surface.

Sideways glances that linger a hair too long, eyes drifting over his light, patterned shirt. The extra couple buttons popped at the neck, the coarse hair beneath.

The thick muscle of his arms, large hands that you think would span the space between your shoulder and jaw. The perfect size to cup your face. Fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

You like looking at his hands, thinking about what they could do. How they would feel. On you. Maybe even in you.

The path of your gaze slowly shifts downwards-

You blink - catching yourself, eyes facing forward again. Going rigid as you recognize the curl of arousal in your guts, where the heat has settled. Stronger than you’ve felt before - the aching need for pleasure so sharp it almost hurts.

“You okay, kid?” He breaks the silence, “You’re usually talking my ear off.”

The nickname is unintentional - it’s one he’s picked up from his time looking after El. You know this but it still bristles at you, a dull ache in your stomach causing your words to come out snappish, “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” he draws the word out with a scoff, “What, would you prefer ‘sunshine’?”

He’s being petty, defensive - glancing your way with brows pulled low, expression changing when he sees the way you’re sitting, tense and uncomfortable.

You flinch when his hand reaches across, the back of his palm brushing your forehead. Something blooms in your stomach, and you have to fight back a moan at his touch, the feeling between your legs almost like a pulse.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He’s frowning, eyes darting your way, “You’re burning up. We need to get you home.”

All you can do is nod, your face pressing against the glass again - trying to ignore the instinct to press your thighs together.

———

It’s become almost unbearable by the time you find yourself among familiar roads - the long winding dirt path through the woods to the cabin. Somewhere along the drive, Hopper had offered to take you home, but his was a good 15 minutes closer.

You just needed some water, to sit down for a moment. You were sure it was nothing.

He shifts into park, legs taking him around to your door before you can fumble with the handle. Almost knocking the old wooden door off the hinges as he ushers you inside - the water still lukewarm from the tap as you gulp it down from a glass.

It soothes some of the heat that warms your face, but not the one that roils in your guts. You can’t hold back the groan that wracks your chest, hand splaying across your lower belly.

His hands almost feel cool on your cheeks as he cups them, worry clouding his blue eyes as he angles your face up to look at him.

“How are you feeling? Talk to me, baby.” He coaxes.

“Hurts.” You manage, blinking as you try to concentrate.

“Where?”

Silently, your hand slips lower, until it’s all but cupping your mound. The slightest brush of fingers making your eyes flutter shut, a soft needy groan falling from your lips.

Hopper goes still, unable to breath. Not even knowing what to say for a moment - trying to come up with something, anything, to help figure it out.

“Uh- did you take anything today? Try anything funny this morning?” He stammers, and your eyes flicker open.

A small shake to your head. And then, you pause, remembering.

“At Murray’s. I-It was pink. I didn’t mean to.” You tell him, and he’s nodding - it’s not much, but it’s something.

Leading you to the couch, your body slumping onto it as he heads for the phone. Digging through his pockets for the scrap of paper, silently hoping that Murray will actually pick up.

Your hands wander on their own, brushing across your thighs, up, and then up. A pad of your finger pressing against the thin cloth covering your clit, and fuck - it feels good. Maybe the best you’ve ever felt.

But somewhere in the fog, you know the couch is not the place to do this. With an effort you push yourself up, his eyes flicking worriedly to your wobbling gait as the phone rings.

The bathroom door creaking shut behind you - the wood muffling your moans as your fingers press against yourself again. Easing the ache, just for a moment.

His fingers wrap around the phone cord until it hurts - eyes trained on the closed door, foot tapping as he waits for answer.

“Hello?” Finally there’s a voice on the other end, and Hopper feels like he could strangle him.

“Murray? Jim.” He barks out, not waiting for a reply. “Something is wrong, she’s not doing well. Said she had something pink at your house.”

There’s a beat, before he’s cursing - his questions not quite making sense, “Jesus Christ. She didn’t, right? When did-?”

“What was it?” Hopper interrupts, his voice firm and low, one that he always seems to pull out during his interrogations.

“Let me think. I need to make sure.” There’s a crackle on the other end, the words chosen carefully. “How is she? What are her symptoms?”

Hopper blinks, “Uh, hot. Forehead is really warm. She seems distracted.”

“She um, said it hurts.” Not knowing how to word the next part, heat creeping across his own face, “Down there.”

He makes a face as he waits, scrubbing a palm across his forehead, and there’s an agonized groan on the other end.

“Okay. Can you ask her how much she had?”

His patience is running thin, worry and anger making his chest feel tight, “What the hell was it?”

Another beat of silence.

“It’s an… aphrodisiac. I was doing a story on it.”

He had the phone pressed so close to his ear that it creaks in his grip, “A what?”

“You know…” Murray hedges, and then sighs. “The tape you heard? The one that pissed you off so much? That was part of my research.”

Hoppers mouth feels dry, remembering the lewd, rhythmic moans. The word clicking into place in his mind, things starting to make a little more sense.

“Does it go away?”

“That’s why you need to ask her.” His tone turns serious, “You need to, right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, he sets the phone on the side table, crossing the room to the bathroom. Knocking, then calling out for you.

Listening, not meaning to hear your panting breaths, the stifled moans sliding out from between your teeth. He doesn’t mean to picture what you’re doing either - but the images pop into his mind, his fist tightening around the door handle.

Inappropriate. Get it together.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out, and he hears your sounds stutter. He hopes your listening, “The pink stuff. How much did you have?”

A moment as you think, the words slow from your lips, “Just a bit. It spilled on my hand.”

He’s back on the phone a second later, “She said just a little bit.”

“Thank god.” There’s a sigh on the other end, but Hopper doesn’t know what there is to sigh about, “I didn’t want to tell you, but the reason I was doing the story was a couple guys took too much. It uh, turns out it can cause cardiac arrest.”

The implication hangs in the air - he wants to ask more, but fears the answer. Murray presses on, “But if she just took a little, she should be okay. She needs to…”

There’s a pause as he sucks in a breath, “She needs to work through it to make it go away.”

“Work through it?” He echoes, brows furrowing.

“Yes. If she doesn’t, it hurts like hell. I tried it myself, just once.” Murray confesses, his voice low, “Drank some like a shot. It took twelve hours to go away. I was chafed red, Jim. Red.”

Hopper makes a face at the overshare, lips pulling down over clenched teeth, “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s what happens.” Murray answers firmly, “I’m just telling you, you might have to help her. Or find her help - don’t let her go through that pain.”

He doesn’t know what to think about that either. Doesn’t even want to think about it, helping you. Not like this, not when you’re not in your right mind.

The next call is quick, just to cover his bases - a call to the school. A message for El, asking is she can spend time with Max tonight. Hopefully you didn’t need the twelve hours, but he had no idea what to expect, or if he could move you.

Then the back of his knuckles are rapping on the door again, three short, sharp knocks. He calls your name, listening - his mind going a mile a minute. Opening the door when he hears you say his name, the two syllables drawn out in a soft whine.

Even with what he knows now, he’s unprepared. The bathroom in his cabin had always been small - barely enough room to squeeze in a tub, a toilet, the chipped sink with a mirror.

Small enough that he’s hit with the scent of your shampoo, perfume. Then, the sweet musk of your arousal, completely unmistakable. Combining into something that made his pants feel tight, his breath catching in his throat.

Pheromones, maybe - something he saw once on a nature documentary. Murray didn’t warn him about that part. His back sags against the door as he closes it.

Fuck, he can’t do this.

He’s already thinking things he shouldn’t be - because he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you. That your sugar-sweet smiles and nudges are the same you give everyone else.

Trying on occasion to put some distance. An act of self-preservation - he’s always been shit at love. Always on the wrong side. But then you drag him back in. Bright and stunning and blinding.

Sunshine in human form, after all.

You’re sitting, back against the wall - tucked in the far corner, opposite the tub. Elbows resting on spread knees, your dress dipping down between the soft curves of your thighs. The navy blue flash of panties as you shift, the light glinting off the wet gleam of your fingers has his eyes darting away - flushing as he clears his throat.

Your eyes glassy as you look up at him, the way he fills the doorway - even bigger and broader than usual from your spot on the floor. Another sharp throb shoots through you, and you moan out loud.

His brow furrows, and then he’s moving, crouching down to your level. Fingers reaching out to brush your forehead again, your skin burning hot against his fingers.

“Talked to Murray. You drank some experiment he’s been working on. Says you need to, uh-” His hand rubs the back of his neck - lacking the eloquence of his new friend, completely out of his depth. “Finish. To get rid of the uh, symptoms.”

This close, the throbbing increases, twisting in your guts into you ache. The smell of leather, tobacco, aftershave sending another pulse down your spine, your thighs pressing together in an attempt for release.

Your nod is sluggish, the fingers twitching again, “I tried, Hop. I can’t-”

“Is there… someone I can call for you?” His voice is gruff, trying as hard as he can to think with his brain and not with his cock, “A…boyfriend, an ex?”

There’s a thud as your head tilts back against the wall, as you fix him with a long look.

“Is my flirting really that terrible?” You ask, with a huff of a laugh that borders on delirious.

There’s a long pause as Hoppers mind trips to catch up, to interpret your words.

“Nevermind.” The smile that stretches your lips is resigned, your chest heaving in a panting breath as your hand waves dismissively, “That wasn’t fair of me to say. Just forget it, I’ll be okay, Hop. Really.”

“Wait, back up.” Hopper’s hands raise, his voice taking on an edge, “What the hell does that mean?”

Each word feels like an effort now, your tongue feeling heavy, your heart thudding between your thighs, “It means-, it means the person I’d want to call is… you.”

There’s silence for a long, agonizing moment.

“You don’t want me,” He rasps out, eyes flickering between your half-lidded ones, the glossy sheen of your parted lips where your tongue had flicked over them. “It’s the drug. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Jim.” The name punches out from your chest, your eyes locking onto his, the pretty splash of blue, “It’s not. I’ve always wanted you.”

Realization making him sway - the wooden floor crashes into his knees as he rocks forward. His head ducking down as you push yourself up to meet him.

A whimpering moan that shoots straight to his cock when your mouth meets his, one of his thick arms curling around, a palm pressing flat against your back. Your tongue already swiping at his lower lip, pressing closer until your breasts are crushed against the wide barrel of his chest.

His hands dropping, as he groans in response - cupping the globes of your ass, your thighs opening further for him as he yanks you up and onto his lap.

Fingers fly to the meat of his broad shoulders for balance, the fabric of your dress bunching under roaming hands. A clashing of teeth and tongues as you devour each other, your panting gasps as your core bumps into contact with the thick curve of his jeans.

Electricity flickering down your spine, a seam catching on your clit. The burning in your core turning into something closer to relief. Your hips jerk again to chase the sensation, just as a hand comes up to palm at your breast, the tight peak of your nipple.

“Hopper,” You’re moaning into his mouth, your fingers fisted in his shirt, trying to tug him even closer. Hips rolling, grinding down against the thick curve of his jeans, “Please.”

His last ounce of self-control leeching from him as he accepts what you’re asking. What you’re needing from him.

Begging, even - something he’s only ever dreamed about.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He promises, shifting - your thighs wrapping around his waist, a low whine from your throat as he tries to move.

Hopper gives up on untangling your limbs, instead pushes himself unsteadily to his feet; your arms encircling his shoulders. Lips dropping to his neck, pressing against skin.

Walking you through the door, until he can drop you onto his bed. You scoot backwards to make room for him as he lowers himself down next to you, crowding you closer to the cabin wall.

Fingers trailing up your shin, your thighs falling open, just as your eyes shut with another cramp of discomfort. Halting at your thigh, at the curving hem of your dress.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning over you, letting you call the shots the best he can.

“Touch me.” You beg, hand reaches for his, dragging it up between your thighs. Hips rocking into his fingers when they press down against your core.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, feeling the damp cotton, your own hand going limp at your side as his flatten, rubbing at the fabric.

His other hand pushing your skirt up to your hips. Letting himself look now, the dark, wet stain of your panties under his fingers. Realizing they were never navy in color - the soft fabric cutting across your hips a light, sky blue. So similar to the shade of his eyes.

Your hips buck again, and his fingers slide beneath the fabric, slipping against soaked skin and soft curls. Another fresh wave of relief, pleasure curling over the pain, your fingers twisting around the pillow behind your head.

“Jesus. You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He grits out, fingers sliding up until they bump against the swollen bud of your clit, your response no more than a whimper.

Stroking against you, again and again - his fingers slick with your arousal. Sliding easily over your skin, making small, messy circles that have your breath catching in your throat.

A litany of pleas and moans falling from your lips, soft “oh, god-” mixing with his name. The sweet build of pleasure barreling down as his fingers touch you.

He’s impatient, the tight fabric limiting his movements, blocking the pretty sight of your pussy from his vision. The thumb of his other hand hooks on your waistband, tugging it down your thighs - your hips grinding into his hand as they rise to help.

A rough exhale of breath, the word “fuck” ground out through gritted teeth. Torn between wanting to keep going just like this - and knowing if you wanted more, that he’d have to use his fingers somewhere else.

His hand shifts, thumb rubbing over your clit, the middle sliding down, pressing against your entrance. Glancing at you for your nod before it sinks in, his fingers so much thicker and longer than your own.

Pressing down to the knuckle before withdrawing, starting a slow thrust that stretches you out. He’s so fucking hard, cock straining in his pants as he watches his finger disappear into you, your pussy so warm and tight around him. Thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his fat cock, how good you’d feel coming on it.

Biting back a groan as he adds another, your own low whine as they press deep, finally itching at the ache of needing to be filled. Your words are slurred with drunk pleasure, your brain a messy fog.

“Make me come, Hop. Please-“

Fingers curling, each thrust of his wrist a loud, wet squelch in the small cabin. He shines with you, coating his fingers, leaking onto your inner thighs.

“I will baby, I promise.” He coaxes, trying to remember how it goes, fingers dragging against your inner walls until he feels you clench down around him, a ragged gasp in your throat.

His eyes flickering up again to yours, doing it again, again - watching the way your breaths grow shorter, tension coiling in your thighs.

The small rocking of your hips as you chase the movements of his thrusts, fucking yourself on his fingers, the soft pants of breath as you moan out “please” again and again.

Hopper shifts, pushing himself up - though you’re too close, too far gone to notice. Your eyes shut are shut, concentrating, when there’s the swirl of something hot and wet and soft against your skin.

Better than his thumb, eyes cracking open to see the way he bends over you, the pink flick of tongue as it presses against you, a low groan as he tastes you.

The scratch of his mustache, sending goosebumps across your skin. When his lips kiss against your clit and then suck, it becomes your undoing.

Unable to form words as the blinding pleasure peaks, instant relief flooding your system as you find your release. Soaking his fingers and tongue with a hoarse cry, limbs trembling with the effort.

The sounds you make when you come are prettier than he’s ever imagined - loud, panting moans, the heave of your breasts, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

Tight as hell around his fingers, he swears he can feel each pulse, the thud of your heartbeat in your clit as his tongue presses against it.

Devouring you until you finally go limp, before sliding his fingers from you. Bringing them to his mouth, unable to resist tasting the release that coats his fingers.

The sweet tang of your cunt as he sucks them clean, a low groan as his hips shift, pressing against the mattress.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, the fog starting to wane with each throb, though the desire still remained. The immediate pain quelled, but the deep ache of want and need was still burning in your veins.

Pushing yourself up, grasping at his shoulders until he’s hovering over you - your mouth tilting to meet his. His mouth tasting like you when your tongue darts against his, the rumbling groan as your hips shift up to rub against him.

“Thank you,” you moan into his mouth, and he almost wants to laugh, if the situation hadn’t been so disconcerting.

The thought about being thanked for something he’d dreamed about doing, never thinking he’d get the chance to bury his face between your legs.

He kisses you until you feel dizzy, until your hips are moving again, the damp spot darkening on the front of his jeans.

“More,” you break the kiss to beg, plucking at the buttons of his shirt, revealing inches of skin, greedily soaking him in.

“You need more or you want more?” He asks, hand curving to cup your jaw - a perfect fit, just like you imagined.

Lips feeling kiss-swollen as they scrape against the stubble of his jaw, down to his neck. Feeling the thud of his own pulse, “Both.”

He groans, loud and low, letting you tug at his belt, fingers working open the button. Hips shifting into your hand as you cup the hard bulge, your other hand tugging at the zipper.

A noise of disappointment as he rolls off you, the smallest hint of a smirk as he rids himself of his pants, boxers, “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

And he is, your fingers skating over his thick shaft, barely able to circle around it. It’s big, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, and it smears across your thighs as he settles between them.

You wiggle against him, lining your hips up, but his hands are gripping onto your waist to hold you still.

“Easy, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.”

Taking a moment, his fist wrapping around the base. Sliding himself against you, you body flexing against the hand still holding you as he lines himself up.

Making sure he’s soaked with you before he starts to press in. Eyes bouncing between your face, trying to see if it’s too much, and unable to resist seeing the tip disappear into you, stretching you wide.

Your moan breaks his concentration, the feeling of him splitting you open almost too much. He feels even bigger than you imagined - making room for himself as he nudges into you. Stealing your breath with every small flex of his hips.

So much of him still left as he carefully thrusts his hips forward, the delicious slide of his cock against your walls before he withdraws. Breath heavy as he does it again, each time sinking a little deeper into you.

Almost flush now, his hands on your hips again. Keeping you pressed to the bed so you don’t try to take too much. Perhaps also to keep himself in check as well.

It’s overwhelming, how warm and tight you are around him. Squeezing him already, even with your come coating his cock, slicking him up. He’s afraid to move, thinking that if he starts thrusting, starts fucking you - that this will be over before it’s started.

His lips part as you wiggle against him again, trying to ignore your pretty pleas. The rough gravel of his voice drowning your sighs out, “Hold on, baby. I just need a minute.”

Fingers flexing against your skin, where the flesh pillows between them. But you need more, and you take matters into your own hands.

Your hand slides down, one lingering at your breast, cupping and squeezing the soft skin, pinching at a nipple. Sending a jolt racing down your spine as your other hand follows, drifting until you’re brushing between your thighs again.

Some of your wits now back, maybe enough that you can get yourself off - just like this.

Eyes on his, watching him watch how the tip of one circles your clit. The small rock of your hips that just barely causes him to move, buried in you. But it’s enough.

Your head tilting back as you set a pace, rolling your hips, again - again. Touching yourself, his name peppered in with the panting of your breath.

“Hopper, oh my god-“

And finally he finds his voice, fingers so tight you think they’ll leave bruises. The words skittering across your skin, as his head tilts up to yours, words coaxing, “That’s right sweetheart. Take what you need.”

Eyes fluttering open as the pleasure builds again as pressing your fingers harder, circling faster.

He’d been worrying about you dying earlier - just for a moment. Now he’s worrying about himself, heart pounding in his chest, listening to each little mewling gasp from your lips as you use him.

Fucking yourself with shallow thrusts on his cock, your pretty face screwed up in concentration. Each breath growing shorter and shorter - he can feel you starting to tense underneath him, the clench of your pussy around him as you squeeze in anticipation.

Keeping himself still, letting you get off on him - thinking that he’ll throw you off your rhythm if he moves, desperately wanting to see how it feels when you come on his cock.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Your eyes all but roll shut as your release hits you. The heavy shudder of your body, surprising him with the sharp jerk of your hips. Taking him even deeper - almost all the way as you flutter around him.

Even better than how you felt on his tongue, better than he’s imagined. The sounds you make louder and rougher when you’re stuffed full of him - as he lowers himself down, hands easing off you.

Letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders, face buried in his neck as you drift back down. Holding you until your hips stop moving - waiting until you relax before he slips from you.

You frown, not understanding until he rising up, nudging at your hips. Giving you room to flip over, his palm warm as it slides down your back.

“Hands and knees, baby.”

Wobbling only a little as you push yourself to your knees, back curving as your torso slips back down, pressing against the mattress.

Shifting until your ass rests flush against his front, letting you feel the thick curve of him pressing against your swollen lips.

“You want more sweetheart?” He asks, a thrust of his hips nudging his cock against you. “Or are you all worn out?”

Again putting the choice in your hands, though he wants nothing more to bury himself in your tight cunt again and fuck you proper.

“More.” You sigh, pressing back against him. Feeling and sounding more lucid - the desire more firmly situated in your thoughts, feelings, rather than chemical stimulation, “Want you to fuck me, Hopper.”

“Yeah?” He growls out, thumbs digging into the curve where your ass meets your thighs, spreading you wide.

“Yeah.” You confirm, the word turning into a moan when you feel the tip press against you again, and then he’s slowly sliding back in.

It’s still a stretch, even though you’ve already taken him, the angle so much different. He can see so much more like this, the tension strung tight in your back and shoulders, your fingers fisting in the sheet.

“Relax, sweetheart.” His hand smooths across your hip, thumb rubbing across your skin, easing forward until his thick thighs are pressing against yours, the curve of his stomach flush with your ass.

His first thrust is experimental - shallow, fingers gripping onto your waist. Rocking you with his movements as you groan, so sensitive that you think you can feel every vein, each ridge.

Again, and then again - until your cheek presses against the mattress so you can look at him, your eyes heavy lidded.

The peek of pink tongue between teeth as he concentrates, a hitch in his chest when you clench down around him. Shoulders flexing as your lips part, the words moaned out - a plea, “Harder. I won’t break.”

Fingers digging into your skin, as you add a soft, “Please.”

It tips him over, hands jerking your hips back - all but impaling you on his cock. Sinking himself deep, filling you completely.

Your gasp is low and loud, head tilting back. Urging him to do it again, and so he does. Gripping your hips as he starts thrusting, your panting moans mingling with the wet squelch of your pussy as he pounds into you.

Shifting, his thighs bumping into yours, lifting your hips, pressing you further into the mattress.

Changing the angle, his cock dragging along your walls. His forward thrust nudging against a spot that makes you cry out, muscles clenching, pleasure flooding your senses.

“Yeah?” He asks through clenched teeth, voice like gravel.

Finding it again, and then again. Your fingers gripping the sheets, lips parted as the moans are pushes out of you. Hurtling towards the edge, your hips rocking back to meet him the best you can.

And when his hand moves, fingers pressing against your slick, sensitive clit, it only takes a few flicks of his wrist until you’re trembling, your words a jumble of begging pleas.

“Oh god yes, Jim, please, please-”

Soaking his cock as you start to flutter, tight and hot and almost overwhelming him. His name sounding so goddamn good on your lips as you chant it, the little jerks your hips make as his fingers keep moving.

Your eyes shut as you ride out the waves, your body relaxing into his grip. Realizing he’s still thrusting, drawing your pleasure out, still pressing against your clit.

“Come on honey, one more.” You just catch the rough rasp of his voice, raising goosebumps across your skin, “Let’s get it out of your system. I want to be the only one helping you.”

Quickly working you up again, until his own thrust starting to stutter. Your tight heat too much, he’s not going to last much longer. Trying to hold himself back a little longer, but it’s he thinks he already too far gone.

“Fuck baby, I’m close,” Hopper pants, and thinking about him coming makes you moan. “Where do you want me?”

“In me.” You beg, already close again - from his touch, his words.

“Fuck.” He repeats, “Goddamn-”

His groan low, hips snapping forward, the slap of his balls against your pussy before he grinds himself deep. The sharp thrusts sending you over with him, your own orgasm washing over you as you feel the hot pulse of his ropes painting your walls.

Basking in the sweet feeling release as he ruts against you - until you’re filled - until his hips finally start to slow.

Chest heaving as he catches his breath, fingers carding through his hair, brushing it back. Your thighs burning in a nice, used way - your head pressing against the mattress so you can peek up at him.

Taking a long minute, and then another. Until your breathing finally slows, until the tension melts from both of you. A hand rubs your lower back, above where you are still joined.

“More?” He asks, his gaze heavy as he meets yours.

You clench down around him, squeezing him as his release gets pushed out, dripping down your thighs. He twitches inside you.

“More.”

———

Evening has fully settling in when the two of you finally collapse - his head hitting the pillow with a heavy, satisfied sigh. Your body going limp against his, pressing yourself flush against him.

Your cheek scrubs against the hair sprinkled across his chest, your movements slow and sated. The fire - finally, completely - quenched, the only warmth now coming from your sweaty, sticky skin.

The humor returning, now that the danger has passed. A rumble of laugher beneath your ear, the click of a lighter, his voice a low rasp before he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“If you wanted me that badly, sweetheart, you could have just asked. No need to go through all that trouble.”

Unbelievable.

Your head tilts upwards as you fix him with a glare, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to move.”

His hand lifts to cup your chin, thumb scrubbing tenderly across your cheek. Another breath that takes you with it, rising and falling as you sag against him.

“‘Lucky’ is goddamn right.” He tells you, his teeth flashing with his smile.

And with that, you find yourself smiling, too.

#please mind the tags!#been working on this for a bit - hope you like it! 💕#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper imagine #hopper x reader #hopper x you #jim hopper smut #jim hopper

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starcourtsteves · 2 years

Text

18+, nsfw, mdni

i just think it’d be cute if you were the new secretary, a pretty young thing says flo, in the hawkins’ police station and jim takes a shine to you right away, calling you ma’am and blushing a bit and liking the way you squirm when he tips his hat to you first thing in the morning and last thing in the evening

you don’t show too much skin at work but god the way your shirt pulls up when you reach for something or the way your skirt is a bit tight some days has jim wanting to smack himself for lusting after such a sweet thing like you

you don’t mind it, this big bear of a man (who grins stupidly when you call him chief) always saying please and thanks when asking for copies and offering to walk you to your car or carry in the groceries you buy as snacks for the station

(and the way he looms over your desk has you crossing your legs tighter. you shouldn’t have heat spreading across your chest and down toward your thighs because of your superior, the police chief, but his broad frame and gruff voice do something salacious to your mind)

it’d be even cuter if you both end up working late one evening and you poke your head into jim’s office to check on him, startling him and making him curse. he immediately backpedals with a “sorry, sweetheart” in that soft voice he only ever uses with you

you playfully chastise him (“I don’t tolerate any sharp words toward me, chief, even in a police station”) and innocently bend to pick up discarded trash, making him audibly groan with the thought of having you bent over his desk

to cover, he finally plucks up the courage to ask you out for dinner, “or at least a coffee in the mornin’ if you’ll let me”. you accept with a grin, perching on the edge of his desk and fiddling with your hands in your lap

“i was wondering if you were gonna steal a kiss one of these days,” you venture. jim wouldn’t do something so brash, both of you know it, but you also know that your innocent little comment will open the floodgates.

you can’t be that close to him, radiating all the sweetness he thought he never deserved again — and offering a kiss while you’re at it — and not have him take action

“god, honey,” he chuckles, slowly standing and crowding into your space, grazing a thumb along your cheek, “yeah, anything you want.” with his index finger he tips your chin up into his waiting mouth

his lips are warm and you grin into the bristles of his mustache and beard, kissing back fervently and slowly spreading your legs wider to accommodate jim standing between them

he pulls back to murmur how beautiful you are but you slide your hands up his shoulders and pull him in again, already drunk on the sensation of having him pressed against you. his hands fall heavy onto your thighs, softly kneading and bringing a gasp to your lips

a laugh rumbles from you both — the giddy disbelief that all the stolen glances and passing touches have finally led to this. “you gonna let me?” jim prompts, sliding his hands slightly higher up your thighs, bunching up your skirt

you nod eagerly, whispering yes please as you wriggle the skirt up the rest of the way. he’s mouthing at your neck and chest and all you can do is whimper when he finally drags a knuckle over your panties, down and up and finding right where it makes your noises extra high-pitched

it’s all a bit feverish after that, you’re fiddling your shirt buttons open and nipping at his neck and he scoots you back further on the desk with a gruff “attagirl” when you get settled, finally slipping his fingers underneath your panties into the wet heat that’s been waiting just for him. in and out of you in a shallow fashion and up to the bundle of nerves, sending shocks of heat down your legs

“still good?” he mutters into your neck as your head has tipped back in pleasure. but it’s your answer that almost knocks him off his feet. “so good, chief, it feels so good” in the most angelic voice he’s ever heard

it ignites something in him and his slack-jawed mouth scrapes teeth along your neck while he fumbles to get his pants down. soon your panties are yanked fully out of the way and you cling to his shoulders while he shuffled to readjust and align himself

thank god it’s late, thank god the station is empty, and thank god for jim’s steady hands holding your hips, because the sensation of him filling you rips a choked whine from your throat that echoes down the hallway. the stretch burns just right and jim lets out a string of curses at how good you feel around him — just as good as he’d always dreamt

“stay with me, baby, i got you,” he coos, finding a steady rhythm with his hips and keeping his thumb pressed just right on your clit. it’s already too much and you feel yourself getting embarrassingly close but jim eggs you on, begs you to let go and let him have it

you do, spilling onto him and feeling his hips stutter with release a moment later. you’re messy and disheveled and jim pets your cheek again, grunting out praise. you’d never seen him so boyishly handsome

“so should i pick you up tomorrow?”

“for work or dinner, chief?”

“anything you want”

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper smut #stranger things #welcome to my fave fantasy from my secretary days

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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readingwithalyssaa · 5 months

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Stranger Things Favs

18+

Work does not belong to me!

Billy Hargrove

moody @billlydear

Midnight Munchies @billlydear

Closer @ijustwanttoreadfanfiction

bathroom sex @munsluyt

nice boys @beetboxx

Your beautiful locks @sweet-villain

You gonna let me keep her? @sadhours

Housewife @sadhours

no control @sadhours

Fic 1 @sadhours

Fic 2 @hawkins-losers

mine @supermarketbae

When the partys over @billysbabyy

Sunrise and sunset @billysbabyy

She wasnt your person to ruin @billysbabyy

Hand behind your back @billysbabyy

Fic 3 @billysbabyy

On her knees @billysbabyy

Phone number @billysbabyy

Slapping @billysbabyy

Run rabbit run @billysbabyy

Riding @thevestigeofvanillaan

Ruined Makeup @tommydarlings

Toxic @tommydarlings

No more @tommydarlings

Fic 4 @tommydarlings

Religion @tommydarlings

Taking good care of you @tommydarlings

Please forgive me lord @tommydarlings

Crybaby @tommydarlings

Simmer down @sadhours

oral fixation @sadhours

You can be the boss @666eddie

montana blues @sserpente

kiss it better @myobmaya

the child support charade @angelltheninth

Billy x Steve x Eddie

Higher and higher @tastefulstars

Lucky you @kitkathatesu

Get in line @tastefulstars

Jim Hopper

Trouble @hopsgirl

Brat @hopsgirl

Punish @greatlampfestival

out of the woods @mypoisonedvine

Harmless @moooxy

Jim Hopper x Joyce Hopper

Jopper Fic 1 @ddejavvu

Eddie x Jonathan

fic @eiightysixbaby

#billy hargrove imagine #steddie x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove smut #jim hopper #joyce byers #jim hopper smut

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ronancebible · 2 years

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lessons learned {steve harrington x f!reader & robin buckley x f!reader}

Summary: Oblivious Steve, for some weird reason, refuses to believe you're not a virgin, so you play along. This is 3 times he's almost caught you in the lie and 1 time he did. 5.5k words

A/N: I gotta warn y'all, this is pure fucking filth. This is nothing other than an excuse to write the some of the most self serving, filthy fanfic out there. There is also very brief Hopper x Reader in this. Also, I am not changing Robin's sexuality! Steve and Robin do not interact sexually in this (you're in between them ;) ).

Warnings: Brief mention of smoking weed and drinking, masturbation, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex... use your imagination :)

You breathed deeply as you ran your hands over your clothed center. Your fingers came back damp, your panties already soaked through without you even having touched yourself. God, Steve made you crazy. You quickly thought through all the cards in your Rolodex, trying to think of someone that would come quickly to take care of you, but the sight of Steve, shirtless and sweaty, mowing the lawn across the street quickly banished any thought of getting someone else involved. You needed it dirty, and you needed it now.

You whimpered quietly as you watched sweat drip down Steve’s strong back, and began rubbing yourself firmly over your panties. You loved this part, the anticipation and the carnal need, how dirty it was to be so desperate you couldn’t even bother pulling your clothes off.

Your eyes quickly slipped shut as you imagined running your soaked pussy over Steve’s chest, getting yourself off while all he could do was watch helplessly, whining as his hips rutted into the air fruitlessly.

You picked up the pace, moaning wantonly now as you shifted and rammed yourself onto the corner of the couch cushion. The couch creaked quietly as you rocked your hips back and forth over the firm seam, and your moans got breathier as the heat in your lower belly pooled. You were sure there was a new stain on the couch you would have to deal with later, but right now, all you could worry about was how Steve would sound when he—

“(Y/N)?” you heard Steve call, the door creaking open simultaneously.

Frantically, you flipped over, fixing your panties and sitting squarely over what you were sure was a very noticeable wet spot on the couch.

“Yeah?” you answered, your voice wrecked and breathy. “In here.”

Steve came into the room, shirt replaced, though his sweaty hair was enough to make your neglected core ache.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “It smells like sex in here.”

You chuckled nervously, trying your very best not to wiggle yourself against the couch again. He needed to leave. Now.

“I wonder why,” you replied nonchalantly, turning your attention to the TV that you forgot had been on.

Steve laughed, saying, “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, it’s just the 20 year old virgin home alone. Not like anything crazy would be going on.”

That was another thing. Steve, completely without basis, was convinced you had never had sex in your life. You were also pretty sure that he didn’t know girls got themselves off. He couldn’t be more wrong. You knew you were the town slut, and you took pride in that title. You just knew how to keep your business to yourself. If he knew some of the people you had slept with, his limp, sweaty hair would curl into ringlets. He was just so oblivious that he never picked up on any of it.

You just chuckled drily and shook your head, not confirming, but not denying.

———

You were so warm, and so turned on, and not exactly sure how you wound up in this situation. You could hear Hopper’s voice in your ear, egging you on as you whimpered and made a mess of his uniform pants.

You vaguely remember seeing him at the bar, neither one of you drunk enough to really enjoy the atmosphere. You were too blissed out to be sure how you made it to his car, but you didn’t care at all, because just then Hopper started bouncing his leg, mumbling a deep “Good girl,” in your ear before you came, trembling, and soaking his pants through to the skin.

He didn’t let up, slipping his hands under your skirt and easily slipping two thick fingers into you, making you see stars with how sensitive you were. You let out a wrecked moan, already feeling another orgasm building as his fingers brushed up against every electric point inside you.

“Please,” you whimpered in the chief’s ear, before he roughly undid his belt and pulled out his dick (which was so large and looked so delicious, all you could manage was an open-mouthed keen). Without thinking twice, you seated yourself on him and let out a loud moan, your voice cracking.

Please let this be a long night, you thought.

The next morning, you found yourself in his car again, only this time in the passenger seat. Once Hopper pulled up to your place, you quickly thanked him for the ride, giving him a smile and pat on the thigh (god those thighs, that not even 30 minutes prior you had gotten incredibly messy yet again) before hopping out of his Hawkins PD station wagon, adjusting your gait as you walked. What? He was a large man.

I must have famously bad luck, you thought, as you noticed Steve sitting on the porch of the small house you two shared. His brow was drawn into a tight, worried expression as he stood up to meet you at the front door.

“Hey, what happened? Why did you not come home? Why is the Chief dropping you off?” He asked, rapid-fire.

You sighed, turning to face Steve. You decided on a half-truth.

“Relax, I just went out last night and spent the night on that side of town. He offered me a ride when I told him where I was going,” you said.

Steve squinted at you before nodding reluctantly.

“Just call next time. If I didn’t know you any better, I would’ve thought you were out having a one-night stand,” he chuckled.

Your face reddened at the thought of last night's activities, and you awkwardly chuckled, which Steve thankfully took as embarrassment rather than guilt.

You weren’t sure exactly why you didn’t want Steve to know that you slept around. In fact, given the opportunity, you would gladly take that man to bed as much as he wanted. It just felt like a separate sphere of life, one that might change your relationship with him. He was a really great friend and a cool dude, but he was raised by traditional parents, and you weren’t sure how he might react to finding out that sex was your favorite pasttime. Plus, the company you kept wasn’t exactly the most traditional either, if you thought to last night with Hopper. And a few nights ago with Robin. And last week with Karen Wheeler.

Steve just thumped you on the back and said, “Glad you’re good.”

———

Robin had to be your favorite person to sleep with, you thought idly as you watched her spin the bottle across the circle from you.

Okay, you were a little drunk. But sadly, you were a horny drunk, and the way Robin was pulling her bottom lip between her teeth right now made you want to drag her into another room and make her forget her name. You shifted slightly in place at the thought.

You and Robin were two peas in a pod. She was your best friend, along with Steve, only she knew more details of your private life and frequently participated in it. Being best friends made it even better, as you could basically sleep with her whenever either of you wanted. All it took was a certain glance at a sleepover and you’d be coaxing orgasms out of each other till dawn.

As much as you wanted this night to be the same, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve had joined the party, booze and pizza in tow. After a few drinks, someone (read: Steve) wanted to play truth or dare to “spice things up.”

Right out the gate, the game was promising to be either unbearable or incredibly fun. The first question, directed to Jonathan and asked by Robin, had been if he’d slept with anyone other than Nancy. Both of their faces red, Jonathan had mumbled a quick “no,” before quickly turning to Steve and asked him who his favorite kiss was. It was then Steve’s turn to blush deeply, eyes flicking over to Nancy briefly before he answered, “Tammy Thompson,” which everyone knew was a bald-faced lie.

Many rounds later, everyone was pleasantly drunk and the questions slowly turned more salacious, leaving them all flushed and hot under the collar. Steve had popped open his shirt nearly down to his stomach, and you were having a hard time not staring at his chest and barely containing your drool.

“(Y/N),” Steve sang, turning to you. You swallowed drily, blushing furiously as you looked up from his chest.

“Hmm?” you replied. “My turn?”

“Your turn,” Steve confirmed, eyes flicking curiously over your face. He settled at your eyes and grinned.

“If you could lose your virginity to anyone in this room, who would it be?” he asked.

Immediately, everyone else in the room pulled a confused face. Robin’s head snapped around to look at you so quickly, you worried she was going to hurt herself. She had a deeply confused frown on her face, no doubt thinking of the previous night, which was anything but virginal.

Nancy had a similar look on her face. You and she had never really slept together, but in freshman year of high school you had taught her to masturbate with a, erm—hands-on approach. She was no doubt remembering the same when she cocked her head at you in silent question.

You had never done anything with Jonathan, but even he seemed privy to more details of your private life than Steve. He looked over at Nancy questioningly, attempting to draw an answer out of her.

Steve was clueless to their expressions, though, as he looked over at you with a grin, thinking he had pinned you down in a revealing question.

Nancy started to open her mouth, seemingly to protest Steve’s assumption, but you cut her off with a gentle look.

“Who says I haven’t, Harrington?” you teased lightly.

Steve rolled his eyes, huffing a breath. “Yeah, right. Miss prude having sex? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Robin barely suppressed a snort, covering it up with a cough when Steve looked over at her curiously.

You sighed. At this point, he would be clueless forever.

———

It had been two weeks since you and Robin had sex. Between late shifts at work and visiting family out of town and Steve never giving you a chance to breathe, you hadn’t gotten a chance to do anything together.

Tonight would change that.

You and Robin were on very clear terms on what your friendship meant. You two were truly a testament to successful friends with benefits. You were able to hang out normally without it being weird or either of you expecting sex. She truly was your best friend, even without the fucking.

But, oh my god was the fucking amazing. And you did it kind of a lot. It started very stereotypically, honestly. Probably just like every lesbian friends with benefits situation out there.

First, it had been practice kissing when you were both 16. Then it just turned into a few makeout sessions. It was exactly the kind of cute, awkward making out every teenager does. After that though, you stopped anything non-platonic for a few years when Robin had an outrageous crush on some girl from work.

It had been when you were both 19, on a hot summer’s day. The heat was making you horny out of your mind, and Robin wasn’t taking the hint to leave so you could fuck your brains out with the toy under your mattress. Turns out you hadn’t had to. Robin had nervously said it was too hot and she was going to take her top off. Half a joint and a broken fan later, both of you just were down to panties, playing a glorified game of chicken. You had tried not to notice how soaked you both were, just in case you were misunderstanding, but eventually Robin made the first move.

“I’ve always wanted to suck on some tits,” she had said finally, seeming fed up with your inability to make a move. She scooted forward on the couch, clenching her thighs conspicuously.

Fucking Christ, finally, you had thought, before saying, “Good thing, because I’ve always wanted you to suck my tits.”

Robin had chuckled then, a smile lighting up her eyes as she leaned in. The rest is pretty much history (in your eyes, anyway).

Tonight, Robin was coming over and Steve was going to be out for the night. You were both very clear that you would be spending the night doing just about anything other than sleeping. You had laid out some weed (nothing too crazy; you still needed to be sober enough) on the coffee table, along with snacks and water. You had put down blankets and pillows all over the living room floor because you two had a tendency not to make it to your bedroom, and it was just more comfortable to be prepared.

You knew you were doing a lot, but sex had become a big part of your friendship with Robin. Even non-romantically, you wanted to treat it with reverence because she was important to you.

As soon as Robin called to let you know that she was about to leave her house, you turned on the TV to some random movie and started rolling joints. As soon as you finished the second one, Robin let herself in.

“Mmm, smells like weed in here!” she called from the entrance.

You laughed, “In here! I just finished rolling.”

Robin came barreling into the room, her presence larger than life and her smile equally so. She unceremoniously dropped her bag on the ground and flopped on the couch next to you, just about as close as humanly possible.

“Hi,” she smiled, reaching for the joint.

“Hi,” you replied, bypassing her hand and placing the joint in her mouth yourself, fingers brushing her lips. She sucked in a sharp breath at the touch.

You flicked the lighter, putting the flame up to the joint and watching it light, spirals of white smoke immediately floating through the room. Robin took a long pull from it, before passing it to you, placing it gently on your lips the same way you had.

Time passed slowly as you passed the joint back and forth like that, until you were just high enough for every touch to feel incredibly pleasurable.

Eyelids just slightly heavy, you took the joint and said, “Let’s shotgun this one.”

Robin smiled lightly, immediately nodding and leaning in. You took a long pull from the joint, letting it settle in your mouth. Then, you slowly leaned in and breathed it into Robin’s mouth as she inhaled.

Your lips brushed softly, and you dropped the pretense, abandoning the shotgun only halfway through the hit. You surged the little bit of distance further and claimed her lips with your own, sighing into her mouth almost immediately.

Her kiss, as always, was electric. As much as you loved sex, kissing was a whole other world. The soft slide of Robin’s lips against your own, the taste of her chapstick, the little noises that escaped both your mouths, the insistence with which you both leaned into each other—it was all intoxicating. You took Robin’s bottom lip between your own, sucking into your mouth and pulling before letting it pop back into place. Robin whimpered, pulling you flush against her, and exhaled against your mouth, her tongue teasing your lips. You gladly reciprocated, running your tongue against her bottom lip as you tangled your fingers in her hair.

After what might have been hours of mindless making out, the intoxicating slide of swollen lips over each other, and endlessly wandering hands, you became acutely aware of the rest of Robin’s body. Your core was practically dripping onto the couch through your sweatpants.

Robin was wearing a ribbed tank top with seemingly nothing underneath, if the color and peak of her nipples through the shirt were to tell you anything. You moaned at the sight, diving down and mouthing at her tits through the fabric. Robin let out a gasp, arching into your mouth as you progressively got her tank wetter. You barely came up for air, reveling in the light mewls that escaped her mouth as you continued your ministrations.

“(Y/N),” Robin moaned, scrabbling at your clothing, trying to find purchase to get you closer to her. You pushed her down onto the couch, a whine escaping her as you briefly separated from her chest to take another hit off the joint.

“Shhhh,” you said, gently easing your knee between her thighs and lifting her tank for direct contact with her nipples. Robin moaned as she ground herself against your knee. You smiled, latching back onto her nipple and increasing the volume of her moans tenfold. It was moments like these that made you so glad you no longer lived in an apartment.

It took you about 30 seconds to notice Steve in the doorway.

You looked up from Robin’s chest, and there he was, eyes wide and frozen in place. You slowly lifted off Robin, who whined at the loss before noticing Steve, as well.

It was like a stare-off between the three of you, you and Robin slowly inching away from each other while Steve stood there with a completely bewildered look on his face.

“Since when do you fuck?” he asked, voice disbelieving.

You blinked. “Since, like, 16, Steve.”

Steve’s jaw dropped impossibly lower. “And since when do you fuck girls?”

“Since 16,” you answered drily.

“And since when do you fuck Robin?!” he nearly yelled.

“Like all the time since nearly 2 years ago,” Robin piped in, clearly enjoying the scene in front of her.

“And how do you get her to moan like that?” Steve said, voice cracking as he looked between the two of you.

You paused.

“Girls don’t moan when you fuck them?” you asked.

Steve sighed, almost a whine, as he pulled his fingers through his hair. He was really flushed, you noticed.

“I mean, a little, but not like that. Not like they want it so bad,” he muttered.

“Everyone reacts differently, Steve. It’s not really a guarantee that everyone moans like I do,” Robin said, barely bothering to cover herself.

Steve laughed mirthlessly. “I promise you, I have never had a girl react like that to me.”

You clucked lightly, turning toward Robin. “Isn’t he supposed to be the sex god of Hawkins?”

“I am!” Steve protested. “It’s just—I’ve never done anything like that.”

You smiled lightly. “It’s okay, Steve. Girls just know each other’s bodies better. Speaking of which, you said you wouldn’t be home tonight. And I still want to capitalize on that time,” you said, raising your eyebrows to get him to take a hint. At the same time, Robin shifted into your lap, smiling over her shoulder at Steve, making the same face as you.

For a minute, Steve was glued there. You could hear his heavy breathing, and you could see his flushed face and how his eyes darted between you and Robin, mentally mapping everything he saw. Holy shit. He was turned on.

Your gaze flicked toward Robin, who was obviously noticing the same thing. When she turned back to you, you quirked an eyebrow in silent conversation.

You saw Robin realize what you were asking and turn it over in her head.

“Could be hot,” she whispered to you. You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Robin squinted at both of you. Then, she smiled and said, “As long as he doesn’t, like, fuck me or anything. I’m still a lesbian.”

You nodded, grinning wolfishly. You turned to look at Steve, who was still glued to his spot, looking between the two of you confusedly. You laid on the charm.

“I can… teach you,” you suggested casually, as if you didn’t want to take the two of them at the same time more than anything in the world. “You know… how to make girls moan like that.” Steve’s jaw dropped, but he stayed there.

“But, I know you’re a visual learner, so you have to come over here,” you prompted, wiggling impatiently against the seam of your sweatpants.

Steve seemed to snap out of it quickly, grinning as he made his way over to the couch and sitting next to you on the floor.

“Let’s start with the basics,” you said, leaning down and flicking your tongue over Robin’s nipple, eliciting a startled gasp. Steve took a ragged breath. “What do you typically do?”

Steve’s eyes were locked on your tongue as it danced over Robin’s tits, waiting for his response.

“I, um… typically start with kissing. You know, making out. Running my hands over her body. Then once she seems like she’s, uh, ready… I’ll put my hand down her pants,” Steve started.

You and Robin’s eyes both snapped to him. He noticed, furrowing his brow looking between you two.

“What? What is it?” he asked, frowning.

“There’s your first problem,” Robin said.

You nodded. “Steve, girls are very different from guys when it comes to pleasure. For most guys, it’s literally like a switch. You’re turned on, and all you have to do is pull on your dick.”

You shifted, simultaneously running your hands over Robin’s naked torso while talking to Steve. Robin let out a little shudder.

“You see,” you continued, “women are like… running a warm bath. You can’t just start the faucet and put the plug in, or you’re going to end up with just a lukewarm bath. You have to let the tap run, let it heat up, so that you get a hot bath. Women are like that. You have to get them sufficiently warmed up so that they really enjoy it.”

While you were talking, Robin wiggled under your hands, trying to maneuver them where she wanted them most. She let out little whines when your fingers trailed over her nipples.

“You see?” you asked, turning to Steve. He nodded, completely in the zone, his eyes mapping the movements of your hands and flickering up to Robin’s face to revel in her pleasure. Robin laughed lightly when their eyes met.

“Focus on (Y/N), Harrington,” Robin joked. Steve let out a shy chuckle, turning back to you.

“Good. Now try on me,” you said, pausing your ministrations on Robin momentarily to tug off your small top. Your tits puckered in the open air. Steve’s mouth was open as he drank in the sight of them.

He reached out and grabbed your waist. He dragged his fingers across your skin with an expertise you weren’t expecting. You shuddered as his fingers trailed on the swell of your underboob, letting your eyes slip shut as his touch ran over a nipple.

After a minute or so of you and Robin breathing heavily as hands ran across your bodies, you said, “Good. Hold on.”

Steve’s hands left your body and your eyes opened again. You continued running your hands over Robin, going lower and lower with each pass. In between words, you sucked at her nipples, earning a low moan every time.

“What do you do when you’re in her pants?” you said.

“I rub around a little bit. You know, the clit or whatever. Then I’ll typically finger her for a few minutes until we fuck,” Steve said, his voice cracking.

You shook your head and sighed, “Wrong again, Steve-O. The vast majority of girls don’t get off from fucking. They need their clit played with to come. If they’re not moaning like Robin was, you’re just not giving them what they need, which is pretty constant clit stimulation. Like this.”

You pushed your hand against Robin’s shorts over the spot you knew she liked. She let out a sudden moan, long and low, at something finally connecting with her clit. You rubbed slow and hard over that spot, torn between watching Robin’s face, screwed up and moaning, and Steve’s face, flushed a deep red and nearly panting at the sight.

You grew impatient at the instruction, just wanting to fuck either one of them until you got off several times. Robin’s shorts got pulled down rather roughly as a result.

She let out a broken yell as you buried your face in her cunt, lapping at her clit mercilessly. Steve let out a choked off grunt at the sight. You repositioned yourself and raised your ass in the air in front of him, breaking away from your favorite feast for just a second to murmur, “Do what I’m doing.”

Steve leapt at the permission, pulling your sweatpants down to reveal a glistening and already soaked pussy and inner thighs.

You were surprised when he licked at your thighs and lips first, seemingly cleaning up the mess you made of yourself. You moaned deep into Robin’s center at the feeling, who in turn let out a surprised yell at the vibrations. You switched to sucking Robin’s clit and quickly lifted your hand to tease her entrance, egged on by both people on either end of you.

You slipped a finger into Robin, shallow and curled upward, stroking the spot inside her you knew would make her legs start to shake as Steve finally licked a hot stripe through your folds, his tongue probing for your clit.

“D-down a little,” you managed to say as Robin’s hands tightly gripped your hair, her moans getting progressively louder as you turned your head to the side for a new angle.

Steve found what he was looking for and licked at it relentlessly, inspiring heavy moans of your own to reverberate through Robin’s core.

The three of you continued like that for a few minutes more, the room steadily filling with wet sounds of mouth against cunt and increasingly loud and breathy moans.

Steve was a quick learner, you had to admit. His onslaught of tongue and lips against you had your knees getting weak under you, but he grabbed your hips and hoisted them higher, granting him better access.

Surprisingly, you felt an orgasm building quicker than you would have expected. Steve took your clit into his mouth, lips pursed to suck, and gave a long pull, simultaneously easing two fingers in your soaked hole. You keened against Robin, heat pooling unbearably in your lower belly, and slipped two more fingers into her. Her walls clamped down around your hand, and she threw her head back in pants as she chanted, “Close, close, I’m so close, please (Y/N), fuck, please please please—”

You didn’t stop, didn’t relent, continuing your ministrations against her until you felt her walls clamp and flutter around your fingers and she let out a loud, high-pitched moan, sure to wake the neighbors. You worked her through it, stroking against her favorite spot inside and lightly licking her clit. Robin continued moaning, practically on the verge of yelling, as she pinched and rolled her nipples through her fingers until she was completely spent, limp against the couch cushions.

You had felt Steve stop momentarily as he watched Robin finish with awe. His fingers had stilled inside you, and you let out a frustrated growl, pushing back against him.

“Lesson number 3, Steve. When a girl tells you she’s close, you don’t slow down, you don’t speed up, you keep doing exactly what you’re doing, even if it kills you,” you said, flipping over onto your back and breaking him out of his trance. You reclined against Robin’s naked body, feeling her heave under you as Steve dipped his head back down to your center.

What he had lacked in knowledge, he made up for in enthusiasm. It was clear to you that while he may not have known exactly how to make a girl scream, he had certainly tried. Now, with that enthusiasm and new instruction imparted upon him, he was unstoppable. He lapped at your clit relentlessly, stroking at a spot inside you that made your toes curl and he ripped a truly embarrassing moan out of your mouth.

Robin, now recovered, pulled your hair out of the way and turned your head toward her, pulling you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered into her mouth as you felt yourself approaching the edge.

The sight below you only served to egg you on. Steve was absolutely buried in your pussy, his whole lower face glistening with your juices. He was whimpering lightly, too, gently fucking into the couch through his jeans.

“Stevie, Steve, oh my god,” you breathed, fisting your fingers through his hair. “I’m almost there, please, fuck, please keep going.”

He continued his exact motions, moaning into you at the sound of your voice.

With a high-pitched keen, you fell over the edge, clamping your thighs around his ears. You screwed your eyes shut, fucking up into Steve’s face to prolong the feeling, with Robin behind you sucking bruises into your neck. She reached around and pushed two fingers into your mouth, trying to quiet your ear-piercing moans. You gleefully licked and sucked around them, using the action as an outlet as your orgasm surged through you still.

Once you had come down, panting heavily as Steve nuzzled your inner thighs, you wasted no time in dragging him up to your face and taking his mouth in a bruising kiss. He moaned into your mouth as you deftly undid his belt.

It was honestly impressive, the speed with which you got his pants off and took him in your hand, pumping quickly as you lined him up with your entrance.

“Go on,” you whispered in his ear sweetly. “If you ask nicely, I’m sure Robin will help you get another one out of me.”

Steve groaned as he pushed into you, the intrusion familiar and welcome and making you moan loudly.

“Please,” he breathed, his eyes squeezed shut. “Robin, please.”

Robin chuckled breathlessly, nodding as she brought her hands around your front, rubbing in firm, tight circles over your clit, exactly how she knew you liked it. Underneath you, you could feel her doing the same to herself, trying to bring herself off at the same time as you and Steve.

You knew none of you would last long as Steve started thrusting into you earnestly. While Steve may have had a little trouble with foreplay, he sure knew how to use his hips. You moaned wantonly as his thrusts snapped into the most sensitive spots inside you, feeling yourself once again get close to the edge. Both Robin’s hands sped up, and her moans in your ear egged you on. Steve’s breaths turned ragged as his hips started to stutter.

You came first, with a weak tremble as your body eked out the last bits of pleasure it could. You moaned loudly, turning and capturing Robin in a searing kiss as your legs seized and walls clamped onto Steve.

Steve was next, snapping his hips into you with a brusque finality as he gave a vocal grunt, spilling into you and dropping his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair in a manner you hoped was soothing as he panted into your chest.

Robin was last, giving a pleased sigh and kissing up your neck as her free arm tightened around you.

All three of you lay, practically boneless, trying to catch your breath.

“This whole time, I thought you were a virgin,” Steve muttered disbelievingly.

Robin chuckled. “Yeah, you were a little slow on the uptake there, buddy.”

“Sooo…. that morning the Chief drove you home…?” Steve asked, trailing off.

You snorted. “Yes, Steve.”

Steve pulled a face. “And how the hell did you bag Karen Wheeler?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. Ted doesn’t know his head from his ass,” Robin replied, stroking her fingers through your hair.

“And does Nance know you’ve slept with her mother?” Steve teased.

You swatted his arm. “No. And she will never know,” you said threateningly.

Steve propped his chin up on your chest to meet your eyes. You softened, a goofy smile overtaking your face.

“Good lesson?” you asked softly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “If the noises you were making count for anything, I’d say so.” After a pause, “Although, I daresay I could use more practice.”

You suppressed a grin. “You know, you could use more practice. Robin’s still better than you and I’m sure you won’t stand for that.

“I will not, you’re right. Prepare to be overtaken, Buckley,” Steve wagged a finger in her face.

“Count me out, Harrington. This was fun, but I’m still as gay as they come. And don’t you dare go stealing my fuck buddy,” Robin warned, squinting at Steve.

Steve laughed, making eye contact with you. “We’ll have to see about that.”

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