chapter six // happiness

chapter seven // dorothea

chapter eight // coney island (most likely be published by july 15 at 21:00 GMT+8)

chapter nine // ivy (most likely be published by july 23 at 00:00 GMT+8)

chapter ten // cowboy like me (most likely be published by july 31 at 21:00 GMT+8)

chapter eleven // long story short (most likely be published by august 7 at 21:00 GMT+8)

chapter twelve // marjorie (august 12 at 21:00 GMT+8)

chapter thirteen // closure (august 18 at 21:00 GMT+8)

chapter fourteen // evermore (august 24 at 21:00 GMT+8)

chapter fifteen // it’s time to go (august 31 at 21:00 GMT+8)

epilogue // folklore (august 31 at 21:00 GMT+8)

epilogue2 // lover

epilogue3 // speak now

epilogue4 // red

epilogue5 // fearless

"I look fine. Just ok, Harrington." you correct him lightly, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips, though it isn't fully realized. He shakes his head sideways at that, tongue poking out to wet his lips.

"Modesty might be a virtue but lying is a sin." is Steve's response, ever so good natured and well mannered. "You're even more stunning than the view." he adds, gesturing to the clear glass lake twinkling in front of you.

He then frowns ever so slightly, cocking his head sideways.

"If only there were more flowers here. Other than the lake and trees it's just... dirt and weeds." he trails off, before his eyes widen in alarm and he quickly looks to you with a reassuring gaze. "Not that I'm complaining. As long as I'm with you."

It's so easy for Steve to compliment you like that. Tell you that you're the center of his whole universe, the lifeline to his beating heart, the object of his innermost desire. It makes you shift awkwardly in your seat, though you internally lie and tell yourself it's because of the cool winds caressing against your exposed ankles. The cedar tree you're sitting under blows alongside the wind, causing a few stray leaves to fall onto Steve's hair.

Your first thought is that you want to carefully brush the foliage off of his head. Have your fingers tenderly caress his scalp, one hand steadying his face so you can neatly pick out the leaves from his curls.

But it feels too intimate to ask for. Too couple-y, or whatever the exact word is, that would shatter the illusion you've built up for yourself to describe whatever the fuck your relationship with Steve currently is. So you stay silent, only ever shifting to point to indicate he's got something on his head.

"Oh. Thanks." he says sheepishly, calloused hands flying upwards to fix his hair. "You're a lifesaver."

His irises fracture into a million light crystals from the reflection of the sun bouncing off of the calm lakes, eyes burning with adoration paired with that beautiful smile. It makes your body shake and mind to turn to mush, forcing you to change the topic of conversation. Fast.

"You're wrong about the flowers. There's one right there-" you point out, index finger directed towards the east side of the lake. His eyes follow where your finger ends, before a determined smile appears on his face.

"So there is. Wait for me, will you?"

Before you can even question him, he's stripping down to his boxer shorts and diving into the lake headfirst, cold droplets of water splashing onto your thighs at the impact. The giggle that escapes your lips die in your mouth when you realize what he's doing - he's swimming over to the small set of rocks on the east side of the lake to retrieve the flower.

He cradles the delicate flower - pink petals blossoming in perfect spirals - with his left arm raised in the air, keeping the specimen perfectly dry until he reaches the shore. Grinning from ear to ear, he sits back down on the picnic mat next to you, hair and clothes still dripping with water.

"Can I-" he gestures with the flower, asking for your permission to tuck it underneath your ear. You should say no. Your lips twist into an unreadable shape, the words "no thanks" already on the tip of your tongue, rejecting love being a secondhand instinct at this point.

But you find that you're unable to resist it, this singular act of affection. You blame it on the sizzling heat and the way he continues to look at you, even when you're staring at him with a cold expression in silence, the look of unadulterated affection on his end never wavering.

"Okay." is thus all you can manage.

If he's surprised at your response, he doesn't show it. No, instead he leans in close, so close you can individually drop the water droplets adorning his hairline, and tucks the stems neatly behind your ear.

"And you say you don't get prettier every time I see you."

You roll your eyes, shoving him lightly in the shoulder, making him lose his balance. He throws his head back, a loud laugh ripping through his throat, and it's impossible to stop a small smile from creeping onto your face too.

"Just shut up and watch the scenery."

---------------------------------------

The basement of the Wheeler house is quiet.

Too quiet, you think. The never ending silence does little to calm your anxieties as Max calmly sleeps on your lap, head tucked against your upper legs, one arm protectively wrapped around your waist. You have no idea how she managed to get comfortable in this position - you and her squeezed in between three meager blue cushions - but she's dealing with so much that you can't find it in your heart to push her away.

You don't even know how much sleep she's been getting lately anyways. What in between the headaches, nightmares, constant threat of being the victim of a supernatural unknown, and the stabbing grief felt by her brother's absence. Love torn away so cruelly, so tragically.

The thought of it makes you nauseous. You've seen how much it hurts people when they lose a loved one. That level of attachment and adoration, what happens when that is inevitably ripped away in a death or a divorce or a breakup. How people walk around as shells of their former selves.

You won't ever let that happen to yourself, you repeat in your head. Even if a very gorgeous and compassionate Steve Harrington is bringing you a cup of water right now, tired smile on his face as he sits on a chair right across from you.

The fireplace reflects as orange orbs in his warm brown eyes, the same eyes which fall onto observe how you lightly stroke the redheaded girl's hair. All guards down, letting yourself be sentimental and protective. His gaze feels prickly against your skin, making your movements falter underneath his persistent gaze.

"Stop staring, Harrington." you whisper, narrowing your eyes at him. He chuckles quietly at that, careful to not wake the other kids sleeping in the room - Dustin, Mike and Lucas in sleeping bags, Erica and Will crammed into another sofa, legs dangling off of the arm rest. You can hear Eddie and Robin talking amongst themselves in the swinging porch stairs outside, the only other people awake at this time of the night.

"You're so good with her, you know that?" he fawns over you, placing a warm hand on your lap. "Seriously. Max talks my ear off about you, maybe even more than I talk about you. And that's saying something."

His compliment causes goosebumps to rise along your skin, internal fire burning down your stomach. He's just so damn sweet like that, sweet potatoes coated in honey, dusted in maple sugar.

"Maybe that's a sign to stop talking about me so much." you tease, pointing a finger at him accusingly. It does little to waver his confidence, head only shaking sideways slightly as he leans back into his chair.

"Nice try, babe. But I won't be doing that anytime soon."

His hands reach into his jean pockets, fingers ruffling through the spare change, keys and a jumbled mess of papers. He pulls out the latter, combing through each piece of paper with curiousity. They're mostly receipts, but one slip of paper in particular catches your attention in the light - mainly due to the pink lipstick kiss tattooed on the front.

"What's that?" you question immediately, throat suddenly dry. His eyebrows furrow in confusion before he opens up the crumbled piece of paper and rolls his eyes, balling it back up in his fists.

"Nuh uh, give me that." you demand, taking the slip and reading it for yourself. In messy handwriting, some girl named Jodie has wrote her number alongside the words: call me, handsome. Heart dropping to your stomach, the sight makes you slightly queasy - a sensation for which you immediately chastise yourself for.

You have no reason to be jealous. None at all to be possessive or protective.

You and Steve aren't official, at your insistence, after all.

"I'm not gonna call her, by the way." Steve cuts in, as if sensing the troubled storms brewing in your mind. You look up in surprise at that, eyes wide.

"Why not?"

He carefully takes the paper out of your hand and tosses the piece of paper into the nearest trash can, throwing it across the room with ease.

"Because. Someone else is already holding my heart." he confesses into the dark, hands perched on his knees, voice so tender and raw. It pierces your heart, his honesty, how he's out here opening his whole heart for you when all you do is repeatedly shut him out. You swallow nervously, pausing your movements by pulling your hands back from brushing Max's hair.

"But wouldn't it be better to give your heart to someone who... who could give you theirs wholly, without any defenses?"

He shrugs at that, unbothered.

"I've told you over and over again. I'm a patient man. I can wait."

Fatigue begins to take hold of you at around four in the morning, but then the fire starts to die out and you straighten up in fear. Steve's quick to rise to his wobbly feet and begin to add wood into the fire before you can even warn him to do so. Watching the flames rise higher and higher, Steve smirks, shooting you a knowing glance.

"I know you hate the dark. Don't worry. You can sleep with ease. I'll watch over you."

"Shouldn't you be sleeping too?" is your response, eyes already closing shut on their own accord. You register his faint chuckle in the background amidst your sleepy haze.

"You're always taking care of everyone else, (Y/n). Let me take care you for once, okay?"

You feel his gentle hands guiding your head towards a comfy cushion, one that he's picked up and placed against the armrest for you to lean against. You don't protest, far too exhausted.

"Okay."

-----------------------------------------------

But despite everything - your aversion to his kisses, reluctance to commit, hatred of sweet talk and affection - when you call Steve , no matter the time of the night, he always picks up. It's a constant you're grateful for, especially on night like this, when your father drives you into Steve's arms.

The boy's already opened his window for you as you scale the large willow tree next to his house, shaking hands grasping rough wood, legs awkwardly hanging from branches as you attempt to maintain balance. You land on his rooftop with much difficulty, bruises already beginning to form on your knees no less.

"You could've come through the front, you know." is what he says when you finally reach his bedroom, climbing through his window, feet reaching carpeted floor. He's dressed down for the night, in nothing but a graphic t-shirt and boxer shorts, but his eyes are lively and wide awake. You even notice that he's messily tidied up his bed in between the ten minutes that's passed between calling him in tears and coming over to his place.

"Then you would've gotten in trouble with your parents." you comment, unimpressed. He only grins at that, immature and carefree, before beckoning you over to his bed.

"And? I'd get into trouble with my shitty parents for you any day."

You sit next to him on the bed, tossing your shoes off by the window and shuffling closer to him.

"Thanks. For letting me come over and shit." you lamely add, feeling incredibly bad for having come over with little warning beforehand. He's given you a spare set of keys months ago, fingers squeezing yours as he said "you can come over absolutely any time. My home is yours." But even so, coming over like this feels intrusive, like you're also making him carry your heavy emotional baggage.

But all these doubts and fears dissipate when he pulls you closer towards him, warm arms wrapping around your neck, holding you right against his chest. His head is resting on top of yours, fingers rubbing circles onto your back as you sob. The dam of emotions has broken at this point and you're too tired to care about keeping up a front for Steve.

"It's alright, baby. Let it all out."

You're completely unaware of how much time passes in his arms - you can't see anything through your tears and the dark little corner created by his arms wrapped around your figure. Your senses are overwhelmed by his warmth and the faint smell of his cologne, mixed in with the smell of fresh linen and mint staining the sheets. But when you do pull away, still teary eyed and messy, his hands come up to cup your cheeks gently.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." you pause, feeling guilty. "Sorry."

He shakes his head sideways, sympathetic expression on his face.

"Don't apologize. Don't ever feel like you need to say sorry. You have every right to not want to talk about it."

Leaning back into him, you breathe in his scent before shakily exhaling. The exhale shakes you to the core, hairs all standing up at its ends.

"Can I stay over tonight?"

"Course you can, love."

He lets you rummage through his closet for something to wear. Your object for affection tonight, you've decided, is an oversized green tie dye shirt that reaches your knees. His eyes crinkle with a fond smile at the sight.

"Why that one?" he questions you as you sit back down. You shrug, toying with the fabric mindlessly with one hand.

"I like the color green. Reminds me of... simpler times. Like running through sprinklers on the street as a child."

Steve's smile widens at that memory, head cocking to the side.

"Ah yes. Back when you were a tiny monster, terrorizing the neighborhood with your nerf water guns."

Rolling your eyes, you lightly hit his chest with a spare pillow.

"Please. As if you were any better as a child. I distinctly remember you getting a time out from Ms.Welbeck because you were pulling pranks during nap time."

He gasps in mock horror.

"You traitor! I can't believe you would use six year old me's escapades against me in the present."

You giggle with genuine joy at the memory.

"Sorry not sorry."

Your smile fades when it hits you that that's in the past. You'll never feel that way again, that carefree and innocent and oblivious about the world. Steve's own smile falters too, mirroring your expression as you quickly slip under the covers and announce you're ready to sleep.

"Good night." you say into the night, body facing away from Steve. You're pushing him away - you've let him in too close already, coming here after the argument with your father and then reminiscing about childhood. You're expecting an argument or a passive agressive comment out of instinct, having being raised in that kind of household, but he just presses a soft kiss onto your forehead and turns the other way. Giving you the space you want (or think you want).

"Good night. I love you." he says, tenderly.

You don't say anything back to that.

-----------------------------------------------

"So what are you two?"

Eddie's the only one unaware enough - and also daringly dumb enough - to pull you aside whilst Robin and Steve busy themselves at the Family Video counter, to ask about what's been going on with you and Steve. The solo adventures. The sweet compliments from Steve. The unexplained gifts. Paired with your insistence that you two aren't official, that he's not your boyfriend and the fact that no one's actually ever since you two kiss.

"What'd you mean?" you play dumb, flicking through the new arrivals tapes in boredom. The metalhead forces your attention on him by forcibly taking out the tapes from your hands and throwing it back down into the crate, drawing a gasp of surprise from your lips.

"Come on. You and Steve. Are you two dating?"

"No." is your automatic response.

"No?" Eddie asks and it's clear he doesn't believe you.

"No, Eddie. Dating implies that we're official. Together. Steve is not my boyfriend. We haven't even kissed."

"Do you love him?" he presses you immediately after, and the question forces you to busy yourself with a row of tapes sitting across from you, face completely neutral.

"I care for him." is your response, to which Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically, flailing his arms around like a petulant child.

"You're not answering my question!"

"Then stop asking." you retort, sly smirk on your lips. He pouts at that and it makes you laugh, the expression so wholly immature and unfitting of the grunge metalhead.

Across the other end of the store, unbeknownst to you, Robin is speaking to Steve about none other than you. Steve's leaning over the tall metal cabinet, sorting through inventory, as Robin leans against the wall and quizzes Steve about how things have been going between you and him.

"Things are good." is Steve's light and polite response. Robin frowns at that, crossing her arms across her chest.

"You said the same thing a month ago." she points out, referring to the conversation they've had by the vending machine at the gas station a month ago. "Any changes?"

"I said I love you for the first time about a week or two ago, but other than that, not much." Steve casually responds, fingers outstretching to reach something on top. Robin nearly spits out the carbondated drink she's sipping on, the fizzy liquid burning her throat as she tries to catch her breath.

"You said WHAT?"

He doesn't seem even slightly frazzled by the revelation, shoulders rolling backwards when he looks back.

"What?" he questions, nonchalantly. Robin smacks him in across the shoulder lightly, shocked betrayal on her face.

"You said I love you and you didn't think to tell me about this? Dude, this is huge! W-what did (Y/n) say?"

Steve bites his lip and shrugs.

"Nothing. We just went to sleep."

Her annoyed expression twists into one of sympathy, a sorry smile on her face.

"Oh, Steve, I'm so sorry..."

"Nah, don't worry about it." he quickly waves off his best friend's concern, tender grin on his lips. "I wasn't expecting an 'i love you' back. At least not yet. I told you from the very beginning of this whole thing, Robin. I'm willing to wait."

She just sighs at that, pity lacing her words.

"You know I love you both dearly but... it's been half a year, Steve. You two are doing all the things couples do and I know the feelings are there, reciprocated and all, but... (Y/n)'s still denying that things are official. And no 'i love you back', doesn't that worry you, six months in? I-I know that there's a lot going on behind the scenes and I'm not trying to complicate things further, I just..." she pauses, searching for the right word. "Worry."

Steve stills at that, allowing his best friend's concerned words wash over him like a gentle wave. He looks up at her, reassuring smile and brave faced.

"You worry too much, Robin. Now could you pass me that stack of tapes behind you?"

Behind his tender words is a finality to his tone so she knows better than to argue or to press onwards, so she quickly obliges without another word.

--------------------------------------------

You hate the sun. You hate bright lights. But you most definitely hate demon bats and underwater portals to the hellish mirror universe.

It's beyond all logic then, that when Steve gets dragged underwater mid-conversation after revealing that the portal to the Upside Down appears to be in the murky waters below, that you jump after him without question. No change of clothes be damned. Not to mention it being so fucking dark underneath that all you're left to rely on is your mediocre swimming skills and the red ball of light shining below.

When your lungs are able to finally suck in air once more, your surroundings are burning red. False snow - splotches of grey - fall onto your shoulder as you walk down the broken pavement mirroring your town. But your mind is on overdrive seeking only one familiar figure: Steve.

In the mere nanoseconds it's passed for you to jump in after him and then wake up in the Upside Down, terrified and wide eyed with nothing but the urge to find and protect him, it hits you in full force.

You love him.

You love your best friend.

You love Steve fucking Harrington.

You love the man who's been giving you his jackets, tucking flowers behind your ear, letting you sleep in his bed, watching over you as you sleep, keeping you company in between work shifts....

And you might lose him.

It terrifies you. This kind of terror, this level of terror, is brand new. Nothing compared to the gut wrenching horrors you felt thinking about calling Steve your boyfriend or whatever other friviolous, petty bullshit you convinced yourself of prior to this.

The sound of flapping wings accompanied by pained grunts alerts you to his presence nearby and you're glad you managed to swim downstream with a metal bat in hand. It's a terrible sight, the demon bats tearing at his flesh and lower abdomen, and you swing with all your might to kill those creatures in one fell swoop. After a few minutes of struggling and shouting, you manage to drive away the hoarde of bats, others lying as carcasses around Steve's body.

"Steve, oh my god-"

Your weapon is long forgotten onto the floor, it dropping from your hand automatically as you lean down and cup his face in your hands, gently sitting him up. He hisses at that, the bloody wounds far too tender and fresh at the sudden movement. You don't hesitate to rip off your jacket and to tie it around his abdomen, anything to cover and stop the bleeding.

"D-do you think you can stand?"

He nods, though it's pained and forced. Placing one of his arms over your shoulder, you help him stand up inch by inch, a groan escaping his lips when the action is completed.

"Can you stand alone?" you question, voice wobbling. He blinks a few times before gently stepping aside, ducking under your arm, to see if he can manage it. He nods and you let out a short sigh of relief.

"Good."

A beat of silence passes before your expression twists into hot fury, your hands pushing him away in an instant. He blinks at you, surprised.

"I told you not to fucking be a hero, Harrington." you spit. "And you didn't fucking listen to me."

"I know you're angry and I totally under-" he starts, trying to calm you down, but it only angers you further.

"You don't understand SHIT, Steve! Jesus fucking christ, do you know the level of horror and panic I felt in the brief few minutes it took for you to be dragged down into this shithole and for me to then have to dive after you?" you ramble, voice rising in volume. "I get that you have a saviour complex and you want to be a good guy who saves the day but one day your luck is going to fucking run out. And it-"

Your voice finally breaks at that, tears springing to your eyes. You should be the one comforting him, after all the horrors he's been put through in a short amount of time, but Steve quickly wraps you up in his arms as you begin to crack at the seams.

"It could've been tonight. You could've died tonight." you admit into the air, shaky breaths breaking up your sentences. "I can't stand it, Steve. How I feel about you, it... it consumes me. I can't run away from it. Even if I keep you at arm's length, even if I don't let you call yourself my boyfriend, even if I refuse to call our dates as dates... I still feel so strongly about you. I-"

His breath hitches in his throat in anticipation, heart thrumming when you look up at him with teary eyes.

"I love you." you weakly whisper, hands falling to your sides. "And it fucking terrifies me. If I love you, that means if I were to lose you, it'd destroy me. I don't want to be destroyed." you ramble, shaky fingers grasping at the lapels of his jacket.

"But by rejecting love, you've been destroying yourself." Steve adds quietly, smoothing over your hair. "You deserve to be loved and to love, without any walls up or trauma swallowing you whole."

He pauses, eyes swimming with worry as he searches for the right words to console you.

"And yes, love is scary, but that's why it's a two-way street, a partnership. You love me and I'll love you. Forever."

He swallows again, lips licked in anticipation as his eyes narrow in on your lips.

"Can I, uh-"

You nod fervently, not even having to hear the rest of his sentence. When his lips finally meet yours, everything clicks into place. Everything seems to make sense, the chaotic world of destruction fading into the background as you're simply overwhelmed by one thing and one thing only. Steve's slightly cold and chapped lips meshing against yours, tasting of iron copper blood and salty tears, his fingers tenderly cupping the back of your neck.

"Am I your boyfriend now?" he teases when you two finally pull away, face mere inches from yours.

"Yes, Steve. I think you've waited long enough for it to be official. Way too long, really." you tease, poking him in the side. His smile only widens at that, so bright it's blinding.

"I'd have waited even longer for you. Anything for you."

a/n: sksksk so idk what it is about this fic but writing this was so therapeutic and poetic for me. idk if i'm the only one with fear of love issues bc it's like never talked about in mainstream media/fics but i love this song and i loved the concept of a patient, loving Steve with a partner with love/trauma issues.

i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love mötley crüe. 

eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him. 

and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…

eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.

so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”

you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”

“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.” 

you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.

“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.

“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”

after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.

“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!

he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”

huh. 

you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it. 

you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.

he isn’t a bad sight to see. 

his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.

his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.

all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.

“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”

you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”

“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”

“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.

“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”

he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.

… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,

i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,

and like a supercharged rocket ride,

you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.

“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”

“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”

eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”

“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”

it came out as gibberish but the point came across. 

“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”

“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.

that was strike one for eddie munson.

ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.

you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.

and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”

“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.” 

eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it. 

“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.

motherfucker.

“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.

you should really start thinking twice.

said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.

“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.

“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”

“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”

you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.

“you bitch!” 

with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you. 

eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk. 

“holy shit…”

“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy. 

“twenty.” he blinks.

you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”

eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.

“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.

and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around. 

and the rest was history.

that was strike two for eddie munson.

iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.

“is this… MADONNA?”

eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.

he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady. 

dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”

eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”

it was his. you left it for him.

dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.

you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.

you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.

just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too. 

if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.

“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.

eddie slaps his hands away from his face.

aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.

 “did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.

he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”

“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”

eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”

you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”

you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.

you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.

that was strike three for eddie munson.

iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.

“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”

as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”

you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”

“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”

“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”

“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”

“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”

“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”

“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”

“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”

you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”

“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.

“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.

“and twice,” you agree. 

as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.

you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.

mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.

the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.

his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.

“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”

“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”

“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”

you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”

eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.

“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”

“no! i shan’t yield!”

giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.

you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.

you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain. 

a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second. 

“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.

“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.

eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”

he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”

“idiot.” you snort.

eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van. 

a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van. 

“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”

you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.

he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”

“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”

adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”

he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.

the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.

his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.

should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?

the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.

“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”

“yeah.”

eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?

that was strike four for eddie munson. 

but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.

v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.

“harrington? fucking harrington?”

“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.

“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.

“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”

he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”

you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”

“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”

“and robin.”

“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.

“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”

“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.

“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”

“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”

you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”

eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair. 

“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”

“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.

you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”

“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.

“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine. 

“that’s mine!”

“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”

“you paid for those with my money.”

eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”

“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”

“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”

the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”

“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”

he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”

eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that. 

you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.

“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”

although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”

“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.

he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”

you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”

eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.

“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”

“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.

eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”

he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again. 

his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.

with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.

“are you sure?” you hesitate.

“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners. 

and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.

“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”

eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”

you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”

and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.

robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up. 

“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”

you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”

eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”

you shrug.

he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.

“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically. 

eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”

“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you. 

“i have no idea.”

some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.

“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”

“frozen waffles?” robin questions.

“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna –  that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”

you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love. 

“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”

you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie. 

he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”

“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.

your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.

“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.

you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”

“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”

“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.

“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.

“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”

that was strike ??? for you and eddie.

“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”

“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”

“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”

“... how about the bumper cars?”

“deal.”