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[im-robins-bitch]

Some blurb with grumpy fem reader and sunshine eddie?

He's constantly flirting with her and she only teases him or talking him down.

One time some cheerleader trying to flirt with Eddie and reader is so possesive, taking his hand and walking away. Eddie is wide-eyed, big smirk on his face and going after her with jumpy steps full of joy.

✶ ┄ SHE'S SO UNUSUAL !

summary: eddie's pretty sure he's loved you since the day he met you. you're pretty sure love is a neurochemical con job pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 2.8k warnings: none? maybe just the faintest hint of angst? a/n: let's play a game of spot the steven universe reference because a clip popped on my tiktok fyp a couple days ago and even though i've never seen it, i simply haven't been able to stop thinking about it <3 anyways thanks so much for your request! hope you enjoy!

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s loved you since before he understood what the word really meant. He didn’t know a lot of things, really, especially not as a lanky-limbed teenager trying hopelessly to navigate puberty in a world filled with assholes and uncertainty.

The only thing he could be certain of was all the love he had for you.

He’s seventeen and hopelessly stupid and you’re beautiful and eons out of his league. He concludes that having the majority of your gen-ed classes has to be fate and that making fun of you is the easiest way to talk to you without feeling like he needs to throw up. 

So he takes to bothering you every day before class and sitting at the table beside you — despite the fact that it had been assigned to someone else at the beginning of the school year — until the teacher ultimately gives up and lets him sit next to you. He pokes fun at your Blondiemerch and how the same She’s So Unusual Cyndie Lauper cassette has been in your walkman for a week straight and the way you dot your eyes with pretty little hearts.

Every joke is sprinkled with the faintest hint of truth, though.

He tells you that he hates Blondie but that the shirt looks good on you, because everything you wear looks good on you. He says it’s hilarious that you can’t seem to listen to anything other than Cyndie Lauper but that he understands because he’s been obsessed with Metallica lately — and that he’d love to show you some of their music sometime. He says only children put hearts over their i’s, but that it's real cute when you do it, when you do anything.

“You’re so annoying,” you inevitably tell him with the roll of your eyes when he tells you exactly that. He can’t tell if the way the corner of your lip quirks up is from a half-concealed smile or a look of disgust.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he shrugs and knocks his leather-clad shoulder with yours. “It’s not my fault that I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s kinda your fault.”

He says it all with a playful lilt to hide how much he means each word. That he’s in love with you and has been since you were in middle school, when he had a godawful buzz cut and loving Rocky Horror Picture Show was your entire personality — at twelve. 

“Love at first sight doesn’t exist,” you argue while you mindlessly jot down notes from the textbook spread open between you, dotting every i with a practiced heart. “Love takes time and work. At the bare minimum, you should at least probably know the other person — and you don’t have a single clue who I am.”

He’s momentarily knocked asunder at your words, at how profound they are. It’s like a century-old philosopher is using a pretty highschool aged girl as a mouthpiece, and it only makes him love you more.

“Well, I could get to know you,” he retorts with a frown. “You just won’t let me.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” you squint over at him. 

“Yeah. That love takes time,” he echoes and a grin pulls slow at his lips. “Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart.”

When two years fly by, and you’re finally a senior (and Eddie’s repeating his last year of high school over again because the one before it knocked him on his ass), you realize that he wasn’t kidding around. He still tries hopelessly to get to know you and jokes that he’s a second-year senior only because he “didn’t want to leave you behind.”

“Couldn’t just leave you by yourself, sweetheart,” he says with a defiant shake of his head. “No way. Not with Jason Carver and all the other freaks roaming around here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re the freaks here, Eds,” you monotone as you put in the combination for your locker.

He immediately notices the use of the nickname. It took you a year to call him anything other than Munson, and now he’s moving into Eds territory? It feels like his heart might burst. But you don’t seem to notice it so Eddie decides to keep it to himself, like sunshine in his pocket, lest he brings it up and he never gets to hear it again.

He presses a hand to his chest and leans in next to you. “Ouch, babe. I’m wounded. Truly. Sorry for wanting to protect a sweet little thing like you.”

You scrunch your nose and swat his hand away when he tries to squeeze your cheek.

“Some would say I actually need protecting from you.”

 “I am capable of pretty dangerous things, sweetheart.”

“Like what?” you scoff.

Eddie only grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You ignore the chill that his words shoot down your spine and pretend to be unbothered by the way they make your heart race. You choose to roll your eyes at him and stuff your arms with textbooks. “You better have a massive dick to back up that attitude, Munson, or people are gonna be real disappointed.”

“And by people you mean you, right?”

“Obviously not,” you monotone.

“Well, joke's on you, I’ve already disappointed everyone I know.”

“That’s not true, Eds—” you shoot back but then swallow the words when you realize you were about to say something too sweet. “There are billions of people in the world you haven’t met yet. There’s still plenty left to disappoint.”

“You’re real sweet, you know that?” he jokes with a smile. “Besides, if you’re really worried about the size of my dick, we can always break out a ruler and, you know, test your theory.”

“Ooh, sorry,” you wince. “I left my magnifying glass at home. Maybe some other time?”

“How about tomorrow?” he answers quickly and easily falls into step with you when you shut your locker and head towards your next class.

“I have a date tomorrow, actually. No can do.”

His heart stops and his throat swells and he forgets what words are for a moment or two. He can only blink at you for a few seconds. “A— A date?”

“Uh-huh. Jason Carver. He asked me out this morning.”

“You’re kidding,” he retorts bitterly with a scowl on his face. Then you start laughing at him and the world starts spinning again. He starts laughing too, but it’s more of a sigh of relief than anything else. “You— You are kidding?”

“Obviously I’m kidding,” you shove him. “Hell will freeze over before I am willingly anywhere around that guy.”

Eddie’s freshly beating heart starts to swell. It feels like more of an honor than it already has been, for you to want to willingly be around him.

“Oh, so you were just trying to make me jealous, then?” he squints over at you.

This time, you’re the stuttering mess as you try to figure out what to say.

He chuckles at you. “Because it worked, sweetheart.”

A couple of months or more go by and graduation nears — well, for you. Eddie’s still hellbent that he’s going to have to repeat another year, but you’ve made it your mission to get him to pass English.

He doesn’t even mind that it means he actually has to do the homework, as long he gets to spend time with you in the Hellfire room after school or share a snack with you at the picnic tables at Forest Hill.

It’s got him living in a state of grandeur. He’s hopelessly deluded, not only that he’s in love with you, but that you’re in love with him. And, for obvious reasons, you know that can’t be true.

Neither of you can be in love because you’re kids and you’re stupid and you don’t know a single damn thing about anything, let alone something as trivial and philosophical as love. It’s a neurochemical con job, everyone knows it. It’s not real.

Everyone thought Nancy and Steve were in love at one point, and then she called him bullshit at a party before fucking off with Jonathan Byers.

Everyone thought Jason and Chrissy were in love, too — that they would be everything Steve and Nancy couldn’t — and then she dumped him in front of the entire school after catching him being an asshole to a bunch of Hellfire club freshmen.

So, obviously, no one knows what love is. 

And by that logic, they can’t know when they’re in it either.

So you chalk up the butterflies and burning cheeks you always get around Eddie to being a dumb teenager who’s lonely and touch starved. Because it’s not love. It just can’t be.

Eddie begs to differ, though, and he swears he’s got the test to prove it.

It’s the spring assembly at Hawkins High, which means everyone’s gathered in the gymnasium on bleachers that are not nearly big enough to accommodate everyone, doing fuck all and grateful for not having to do any actual work. 

The cheerleaders do a couple of dances, the basketball team prances around the court — it’s all hopelessly pedestrian as far as you’re concerned.

You and the rest of Hellfire are located at the very top of the bleachers, as far away as you possibly can be from whatever the hell is going on below you. It checks out, though, because everyone else opts to keep their distance from the lot of you, too.

And you’re not exactly sure how the conversation started, but somehow you end up talking about crushes, and Eddie makes the too bold proclamation that you’ve got the fattest crush on him of all people.

“Leave her alone!” Dustin scolds him over the band, the only one actually trying to stick up for you. “Maybe this is something you should discuss, I don’t know, in private?”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no need. Because I don’t have a crush on you, Eddie Munson,” you tell him, stern and unwavering, as you squint over at him. Your glare follows the boy as he paces up and down the bleachers, two levels below you. “Sorry to bruise your ego.”

“Oh, so you won’t care if I tell Chrissy that I wanna take her on a date?” he asks you with a knowing grin.

“Why would I care?” you retort, then grumble. “It’s not like she would say yes anyway.”

“Well, she did ask me first.”

That quietens you instantly “…You’re lying.”

“Wanna bet?” he teases and leans down, resting his weight on the seating in front of him, until his face is level with yours. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the mint gum he smacks between his teeth. 

If you were alone — and in some godawful teenage drama — you might’ve pulled him in for a kiss right there. At least, that’s what your brain tells you to do because your lips have started to tingle just thinking about it.

You hope Eddie hasn’t noticed the way your gaze falls on his own pink, plump, and very kissable ones. But the grin that paints his features then tells you that he has.

You play it off with a stoic expression and crossed arms. “Chrissy going from dating the captain of the basketball team to the town’s local freak would be an unprecedented low.”

“I’ll be sure to tell you all about our trip to Lover’s Lake tomorrow morning, sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head,” he promises before rising and spinning on his heels. He makes the trek to the lower level of the bleachers — a feat made more difficult by the crowd and the distance between it and him.

He makes sure to turn and look back at you every now and again, to make sure that you’re still watching him. You are. Of course, you are. And you hope the seething anger in your chest doesn’t show on your face.

“He’s not actually gonna ask her out, right?” Mike wonders.

“No way,” Dustin denies with the shake of his head. “The president of Hellfire can’t date a cheerleader… Right?”

Gareth shrugs. “He’s obviously bluffing.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t do that,” Jeff agrees. He turns to look over at you. “He’s been in love with you since middle school. He just wants to upset you.”

“Well, it’s fucking working,” you grumble under your breath. Your heart races and your vision swims as you watch him near the group of cheerleaders sitting on the floor of the gym. 

You want to believe that he’s bluffing, you really do, but you don’t doubt that Chrissy’s asked him out.

After she dumped Jason, she’d gotten strangely protective over the Hellfire club — constantly making an effort to talk to them all, ensuring that the rest of the school wasn’t acting total assholes around them. Hell, she’s even started being nice to you and you weren't even in the damn club.

She’s been hanging around with Eddie a lot more lately, catching up in the library and ranting about tests between classes. Everyone’s seen it. You’ve seen it. And it’s made you unbelievably jealous. 

Maybe you never noticed it before now because you used to be the only girl interested in talking to Eddie. But now he’s got the head cheerleader around to keep him company, to ask him out on fucking dates, and it leaves you seething in your rage.

And if love is anger, then you’re head over heels for Eddie Munson.

You rise suddenly from your seat and shove your way through the bleachers, muttering lackluster excuse me’s under your breath as you go and elbowing those who refuse to get out of your way. 

You reach Eddie just before he’s about to tap on Chrissy's shoulder. You take that hand and nearly jerk it from its socket the way you pull at him. Eddie is stunned, for all of half a second, thinking it must’ve been a fuming Jason Carver at the force of the grip around him. 

But it’s just you, all but dragging him out of the gymnasium with the strength of ten men in one angry teenage girl, and it makes him smile so hard it hurts.

He traps the grin between his teeth and locks eyes with the rest of Hellfire from across the room. He brings two fingers to his forehead in salute before he’s pulled out of the gym entirely.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he teases as you lead him down a long hallway. “Thought you didn’t give a shit if I asked her out?”

You don’t respond to his teasing. You just keep tugging him by his wrist through the empty school. He’s not even sure if you’re even breathing just now, or if you’re moving strictly on autopilot and rage.

You shove him into Mr. Kamisnky’s vacant classroom and lock the door behind you.

Eddie’s chest rises and falls with the heavy breath he exhales. “Well, shit, sweetheart... If I knew making you jealous was all I needed to do to get you alone, I would’ve done it a long time ago—”

“Say you didn’t mean it,” you interject, less than amused at his teasing.

“…What?”

“That you wanted to take Chrissy on a date,” you elaborate with arms crossed over your chest, protecting yourself, your heart. “Say you didn’t mean it.”

And Eddie laughs. He fucking laughs. Like everything’s a joke to him, like the mere thought of you being heartbroken over him liking Chrissy is funny to him.

It’s not. Well, at least not that bit. It’s laughable to him that you would even think he wanted anybody but you after he’s spent so many years fawning over you.

“Of course, I didn’t mean it,” Eddie scoffs. He tries to take a few steps closer to you, but you back away, not believing him. He softens. “I just wanted to make you jealous, sweetheart. I didn’t wanna… hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you monotone.

The boy’s brows furrow. “Hurt your feelings or make you jealous?”

“…Yes.”

A smile pulls slow at his lips. He tries to hide it but fails miserably. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I just wanted to see how you would react. And I am very pleased by this reaction… Even though my wrist feels like it’s broken.”

“Sorry,” you murmur to yourself, already embarrassed at how angry you’d gotten.

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie declines with the shake of his head. This time when he walks toward you, you don’t back away from him. You even let him take your elbows in his hands and rub his thumbs over your warmed and jealousy-prickled skin.

“Actually, you know what, do be sorry,” he corrects playfully. “And make it up to me by taking me out. Somewhere fancy.”

You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile. 

“Benny’s Burgers?” you offer after a moment.

“Ooh. Burgers, fries, a milkshake, and a hot date?" he lists with a nod of approval. "You really know how to get a guy to swoon, don't ya sweetheart?”

[im-robins-bitch]

hi bug! Can I request you a ditzy or shy!reader where some girl flirts with Steve in front of her maybe at Family Video? Little angsty because she feels insicure of herself? Thank you🩷

ty for requesting!! — steve doesn't realize he's being flirted with because he's so in love with you (ditzy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.6k)

You color in a scribbled heart with enough vigor to break the pink crayon in your hand.

Steve always hangs your drawings in his locker in the Family Video break room, so you tend to take your art pretty seriously. ‘Cause there’s absolutely nothing humorous about the two stick figures holding hands — each of them vaguely resembling the both of you — that you’re passionately scribbling behind the front counter.

He’d watch you work your magic on a piece of lined scrap paper if he could. He’s too busy tending to a regular now. Mia, he thinks, or maybe Maia. She rents movies every week, but according to the system, she doesn’t watch a single one of them. 

“Well, what do you recommend?” she questions with a smirk on her painted lips, leaning her elbows on the counter until her chest juts out.

Steve leans slowly backward and tries not to cough at the overwhelming scent of her fruity perfume. “Uh… I don’t know,” he answers with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I usually just watch whatever.”

The girl squints her dolled-up eyes. “You don’t have a favorite movie?” 

Steve ponders the question for a moment. ‘Cause he doesn’t have one, really. All his favorite films are your favorites because he spends the majority of movie nights watching you instead.

So, at a loss of how to answer, he tells her your first choice. “The Star Wars movies are pretty alright.”

“Do you have them here?” she wonders.

Steve nods and points her in the other direction. “Yeah. In the Sci-Fi section.”

“Can you show me?” the girl questions with a hopeful glint in her pale eyes. Everything about her sparkles with mischief, like a predator hunting for prey. Stealthy, like a ninja, Steve would’ve called the approach a couple years ago. Long before he found you.

He’s more into forthright proclamations of love these days — bubblegum pink lipstick stains pressed to his cheek and handmade pictures drawn in crayon.

But, for the sake of Keith totally reaming him for not helping a customer, Steve nods and rounds the front counter. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” he urges halfheartedly, sparing you a forlorn glance as he goes. You’re much too distracted to see it, though.

You’re too distracted to notice most things, really.

That’s why Robin’s angrier than you are about the whole thing. She exhales a big huff and stands across from you, peering over the tower of tapes there. “God, he’s so oblivious,” she groans.

Your hand freezes as you color in Steve’s vest. You glance up at her with wide eyes, heart sinking at the annoyed look on her freckled features. “Huh?”

“Steve. That girl’s been drooling over him for five minutes, and he hasn’t even realized.”

Your brows pinch. “What girl?”

“The one that’s hanging all over him,” Robin answers, nodding her head to the other side of the store. The girl in question lingers at Steve’s side, a little too close to be casual. She hangs on every word he says — which certainly can’t be a whole lot, considering he knows next to nothing about that Star Wars franchise.

“I thought she was just being nice,” you shrug.

“She was flirting with your boyfriend,” Robin corrects in a monotone. “It was disgusting. I’m pretty sure her flirt got all over my pants.”

You look back at the two across the room. Steve tenses when the pretty redhead presses her chest against his arm. For the sake of not making things totally awkward, he forces himself not to shrink away. What had seemed virtually innocuous to you now makes your stomach ache. 

“She’s so pretty…” you observe quietly to yourself. 

Robin only scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re into girls like that.”

You don’t know exactly what she means, but it makes you lean slightly forward in interest anyway. “Do you think… Do you think Steve’s into girls like that?”

“No,” Robin answers, features twisted like it’s obvious. “He’s into girls like you.”

For the first time ever, you find that slightly hard to believe. Why would Steve ever pick you over someone like her? The way she smiles is pretty. The way she laughs is pretty. Even the way she talks is pretty.

And what do you have? A couple of stupid crayon portraits?

A strange feeling sears your chest when Steve and the pretty girl walk back to the counter. He must’ve told her a joke or something ‘cause she tips back her head to laugh loudly in response. Jealous tears sting your eyes accordingly. You take your art and your box of dull crayons and scurry off to the break room.

“I can help you check out!” Robin offers, suddenly very chipper. 

The redhead’s face twists. “Oh. I thought that—”

“Steve’s needed in the breakroom, actually,” Robin tells her when the stranger’s pleading eyes flit to the boy beside her. “I can handle it from here.”

“Wait— What’s in the breakroom?” he wonders obliviously.

“Your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve blinks once. The sudden lack of your presence makes his chest ache. He stalks off to find you without another word.

The redhead, Mia or Maia or whatever, doesn’t bother to disguise the shock painting her dainty features. “Girlfriend?” she echoes, quiet with disbelief.

Robin nods and takes the tapes from her hands, knowing she’s only renting them ‘cause she thought Steve liked them. The scanner beeps as she rings them up. “Yeah. He’s kinda in love with her, turns out. It’s disgusting.”

The conversation fades the further Steve gets down the hall. He opens the door to the back room with a grating squeak. The rusted hinges screech again in protest when he swings it shut behind him. He finds you slouched over the table, vehemently scribbling with vibrantly colored crayons.

He can’t help but smile at the sight of you. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts in place of a greeting, sliding back a chair to sit across from you.

“Nothin’…” you mutter distantly.

Steve folds his arms over the tabletop and rests his chin on top of them. It bobs with every word. “Why’d you leave me, huh?”

You shrug with a faint I don’t know type of sound.

“Can I see what you’re drawing, at least?” 

He grins and reaches for you without thinking — because you always let him see. Needless to say, when flinch suddenly away from him, it scares him far more than it should. You scramble to cover the paper with your arms like you’re doing something wrong. 

“No,” you answer in a mousy voice.

A chuckle spills from Steve’s mouth. “What? Why? You always show me.”

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid! I love when you draw stuff for me,” the boy insists with a lopsided smile, distantly surprised by your sheepishness. The pretty pink grin slips from his mouth at the crestfallen glint in your eye. He softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did— Did Robin say something?”

“No.” 

“Then what?”

You avert your eyes from his prying ones, feeling half-suffocated beneath his honeyed gaze. You start to color again with an absentminded hand, if only to have something else to look at. “You’re just…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “You’re too pretty.”

He laughs before he means to. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I don’t like that other people get to look at you,” you confess quietly, coloring in Steve’s hair with the ‘deep golden’ crayon. “It’s not fair— No one else should think you’re as beautiful as I do. I don’t like that.”

Steve props his chin on his palm and hides his grin behind his fingers. He reaches for your busy hand with his free one to get your attention. “Well, you know what?” he starts when your eyes flit up to his. “You’re the only one I want looking at me. So what everyone else thinks doesn’t really matter.”

“It is when they’re drooling all over you,” you answer with a scrunched nose.

Steve can’t help but scoff out a laugh. Those words have Robin Buckley written all over them. 

“Last I heard, Rob was giving that girl what for, so… you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he tells you, both to soothe the misplaced jealousy and to make you smile. He thinks it only half works. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You perk up at that. Steve grins and leans in close like he’s about to confess something serious. His dark eyes twinkle with mischief. 

“I’m so stupid in love with you that I forget other girls exist sometimes,” he murmurs in true secret-spilling fashion. “And when they’re… drooling all over me? I don’t even see it. ‘Cause all I’m thinking about is how I have my own girl back home. And that I’d much rather have her drooling on me.”

“…Am I the girl?” you press in a tiny voice, just to be sure.

“Yes, baby, I’m talking about you,” Steve chuckles. “You should know that— You’rethe one drooling on my pillow every morning.”

Your nose scrunches sheepishly. “You’ve said that word too many times… It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

“What’s that called again?”

“Semantic satiation,” you answer without missing a beat.

“Well, now I’m gonna tell you I love you ’til you’re semantically satiated,” the boy teases with a knowing squint in his eyes. “‘Cause I love you.”

“Steve.”

“I love you.”

“Stop,” you say, sterner now, though your gaze still glimmers with something soft. Your eyes follow his form when he rises from the table, shifting the short distance to sit in the chair closest to you. “Steve, stop—”

“I love you,” he repeats, anyway, taking you into his arms and smacking a dramatic kiss to your warm cheek. Between each innocuous peck, he mumbles, “I love you— I love you— I love you—”

Steve doesn’t stop kissing you until he hears you giggling again. The pretty sound brightens the dull breakroom. And all he can think about is what a lucky schmuck he is. To get to kiss you and make you laugh forever.

[im-robins-bitch]

Robin fuckin’ Buckley

(feb p*treon print)

[im-robins-bitch]

'i'll just do a couple of doodles of mombin™/platonic stobin parents' nevermind, borderline graphic novel

[im-robins-bitch]

Just a lil blurb about Robins first time kissing you

Your feet kick against Robin’s under her blanket and she recoils at their icy touch. 

It makes you giggle, the sound muffled slightly by the pillow your cheek is smushed into, the same pillow Robin is resting on. 

Her cheeks are dusted pink, making her freckles all the more endearing along with her glassy blue eyes. Her hair is mused over the pillow, it had been carefully styled before the party at Steve’s but now it’s a collection of cowlicks and knotty strands. 

She kicks you back, hitting your calf in revenge. She curls her foot around the muscle, bringing your legs closer to hers. 

“Are you cold? She asks. You nod although really, after how much you drank, you can’t tell if your cold or not.  

Her legs wrap around yours and every meeting point feels electric. Her calf in between yours, her thighs pressing into yours. 

Her skin is soft as a peach, and the vanilla and cinnamon body lotion she uses only makes her more appealing. You can feel the slight prickle of her leg hair starting to grow back in and your mind wanders like it always does, to how the rest of her skin would feel. 

She draws back your attention by squeezing your hand. Your fingers had been entwined for half the night. Drunk best friends, that was all it was. 

Only your other best friends don’t make your pulse race. You don’t avert your gaze from Steve when he reaches up and exposes his stomach from fear of drooling. You don’t look at Nancy while talking and lose your entire train of thought. 

There’s certainly no one else you would want to be wound around in bed, noses almost brushing as you whisper secrets to each other. 

Robin’s thumb rubs your wrist, bumping against the friendship bracelet she made you when she was bored one shift. The threads are tattered and the colour is blanched because you refuse to take it off. 

She must feel how quickly your heart is racing, as her thumb presses into your pulse. How can she not notice what she does to you? Time spent with anyone but her feels wasted. You only come to every one of Steve’s get-togethers because Robin is also always there. 

Last week you spent an hour carefully painting each of her nails. You savoured rubbing in the hand cream you insisted she needed for the full spa day experience. Your fingers traced every ridge, vein and wrinkle, because you had to make sure it was all soaked in. 

You feel her breath against your chin as she blinks up at you, her responses are slow from the shots you had both done earlier. Some of her lashes are sticking together to make a triangle. You reach your pinky out and brush them apart, making her eyes flutter shut. 

“Tell me another secret?” You whisper. 

It’s your favourite game, swapping secrets. You feel yourself growing closer to Robin with every secret she spills. You know it’s silly, but you also hope that one day the secret-spilling from her lips will be that she likes you. 

Her freckled cheeks grow warmer, her nose turning a rosy colour. You know that means this secret is going to be good. She nuzzles further into the pillow and consequently closer to you. 

She whispers her secret to you, voice so low that if you hadn’t been staring at her lips, watching how they moved to form each word, you wouldn’t have been able to piece together what she said. 

“I’ve never been kissed”

It startles you so much that you go to sit up, but your tangled legs don’t co-operate so you end up falling back down. Your shared pillow puffs up and the rush of air makes Robin’s hair fly up and then float back down again. 

Your wide eyes stare into hers. For once you don’t get lost contemplating them because it’s just so unbelievable a secret to be true. “You can’t lie,” You insist, shaking your head and jostling hers from its resting place. 

She pulls herself up on her elbows, drawing her legs out from around yours and you immediately regret your words. “I’m not lying” She huffs. 

“What about-”

“No one. I’ve kissed no one,” Her fingers grip the comforter tight, she tries to move away from you but you pull her back down. Her back hits the mattress, causing the bed to bounce slightly, her arms falling back down to her sides. 

You crawl on top of her, holding yourself up on your forearms as you hover over her. The shots have made you bold it seems. You lean in, and for a second Robin thinks you might kiss her, just to make her a liar. 

Robins’s eyes close, but all she feels is your breath against her lips. 

“I don’t believe it” You whisper.

She cocks one eye open and then the other when she sees you’re not leaning in further, just waiting for some kind of explanation. One she doesn’t particularly feel like supplying you with. “Why? Because I’m 20 and it’s just too pathetic?”

You shake your head, shushing her with a finger to her lips. Your arm feels like it’s been zapped. Just the side of your finger touching her lips makes your body shiver, you can’t imagine how it would feel to touch her more intimately. You don’t think your body could physically cope.

“You’re just so beautiful Robbie, I mean look at you,” Your finger lifts from her lips, replaced by your thumb. Her breathing hitches and you decide to take it as a good sign rather than a bad one. 

“Your lips are made for kissing, they’re so pink,” Your thumb moves to push down against her bottom lip, “ and so soft”  Your thumb traces her top lip now, dragging back and forth, “and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cupid’s bow so perfect” 

Robins’s face is scarlet now, you can see it even in the glow of an orange-hued lamp. 

She gulps, her hand coming up to fist at your flimsy pyjama top. She can feel the frantic beating of your heart through the shirt. It’s what encourages her next decision.. “If my lips are so perfect, why aren’t you kissing them?”

You don’t hesitate as you press your lips to hers. 

masterlist

[im-robins-bitch]

adopting a pet w/ eddie that he insists on naming Lucifer, the World Destroyer or something and it's just the stupidest fat orange cat you've ever seen

Eddie has elaborate D&D-themed names for all the strays he feeds around the trailer park too. you’re scratching an unassuming tuxedo cat under the chin while he lays out their daily kibble and he’s like “ah I see Lord Drosselmeyer the Fifth has taken a shining to you”

[im-robins-bitch]

If somehow you're living under a rock and not following the amazing @luveline you will be after reading this 🥰🥰

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 

[im-robins-bitch]

Omfg this is so lovely, not at all what i expected when reading the descrption, but somehow even sweeter! Steve is such a honeyboy i just can't 🥰

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

[im-robins-bitch]

Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕

ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)

“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.

Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”

You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once. 

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”

“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.

“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”

“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.

“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.

“You,” Eddie deadpans.

You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”

Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?” 

The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.

“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”

Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”

“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.

“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.

Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”

“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.

All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.

“You have everything but the looks.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”

“Can’t I?”

“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.

“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.

“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”

“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”

Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back. 

“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.

Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”

“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.

Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.

“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”

Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.

“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.

“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”

“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”

“It’s different. You know that.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean. 

You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.

“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.

“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”

The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too. 

You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.

“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”

“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”

“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”

You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie. 

He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.

Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”

“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”

“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”

Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.

You cower under his stare. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.

“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.

You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.

“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”

You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again. 

This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.

Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.

“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”

“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.

“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”

Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.

The game of cat and mouse continues.

[im-robins-bitch]

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 5 Prompt: Love Notes 💌 ~ 2,300 words Eddie writes you an anonymous love note. it doesn't go according to plan.

Dear ____

I hope you’re not too weirded out by this. To be perfectly honest with you, it seemed like a really good idea when I saw this pink paper in the art room and swiped it, but now I’m not so sure…

Ah, fuck it. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? The pen has been put to paper — I might as well nut up and finish the job.

I really like you. I think about you all the time.

You don’t know me, but we had a class together two years ago. And on the first day, when I was still fresh off a jilt by a different girl, you came in and sat down. I didn’t think much of anything at first; you were just another body in the classroom, and I was wallowing in self-pity, nursing my metaphorical wounds. But as the minutes passed, I found myself glancing over at you — at first just once, then again, and then again, and then I was staring, and all I could think was: she’s really beautiful. And then I couldn’t stop looking.

Day after day I’d watch you in class and in the hallways and anywhere else you and I happened to be occupying the same space. I still do. There’s just something about you that keeps drawing me in. You seem so genuinely good and kind, like you would never hurt anybody, not even a guy like me. But I still can’t bring myself to approach you, because I look at you, and then I look at myself, and I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved that way, by someone as perfect as you. I can’t take the leap no matter how badly I want it.

I have dreams about you. I dream about what it would feel like to hold your hand, to put my arms around you, and to feel yours around me. If my subconscious is feeling particularly indulgent, I might get a kiss. But mostly in these dreams we just exist together, which feels like the most unattainable fantasy of them all. They’re the sweetest dreams to have but the worst to wake up from. 

I’m not sure why I’m confessing this all to you now. Everyone else is sending each other candy grams and roses; I suppose it means I’m not as immune to this Hallmark-conspired holiday as I thought. If nothing else, I hope this gives you at least an inkling of how wonderful you are, in case you ever had any doubts. You’re a sweet girl. Anybody would be really lucky to be with you. Especially me.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Deliberately omitting his signature, Eddie sets his pen down and stares at the paper in front of him, rereading the fucking novel he just wrote you.

See, now this is far too much. 

Cheeks violently red, he slumps over the table in embarrassment. God, he sounds like such a serial killer! He can’t give this to you, no way. Even if it is anonymous.

…can he?

On one hand, you might find it touching. On the other hand, you might find it both disturbing and grossly predative. 

If it’s truly any one thing, it’s honest — Eddie has spent the past two and half years being completely and utterly infatuated with you. He’d call it love, if he’d ever said a single word to you. But instead he’s camped out here in the library during his lunch period, spilling his guts out all over this cotton-candy pink paper, with no intention of revealing his identity. 

He sighs, and with nimble fingers, folds the paper into a shape that resembles a heart. Tucking the love note into the pocket of his vest, he wrenches himself away from the table and stalks out of the library. His expression is sour; to the outward observer, he looks mightily pissed off, although what he’s really  experiencing is a fierce combination of ambivalence and humiliation towards his own actions. You’d never guess that his heart is thumping wildly against his chest as he speeds through the empty hallways, getting closer and closer to your locker, still uncertain of what he’s going to do when he actually gets there.

But he knows that if he’s going to do something, he needs to do it now, because lunch will be over in mere minutes, and then everyone will start pouring out of the cafeteria.

133…134…135…there it is.

Eddie stares at your locker as though in a trance. He fishes the note from his pocket and simply clutches it in his fist, mind racing.

Can I? Should I? If she’s disgusted she won’t know it’s me. No. No. Maybe I shouldn’t. Bad idea. BAD. Or maybe…I should…

“Whatcha got there, freak?”

A beefy arm shoves him violently from behind, knocking him to the ground. His fingers automatically close around the note, instant panic setting all his nerve endings on fire.

No. Oh God, no. 

He quickly tries to haul himself back to his feet, but he’s outnumbered. Two jocks pin him to the ground by his arms, thwarting any desperate punches he might have swung. A third yanks the note from his hand, smoothing out the meticulously-folded paper he’d poured his soul onto. 

There’s a roaring in his ears, but it’s not enough to completely drown out the bell ringing in the distance. Then the student voices start floating down the hallway, alerting Eddie to the fact that, not only is he about to suffer greatly at the hands of these meatheads, but he’s unfortunately also going to have an audience when it happens.

The third jock holding the note reads it silently, a slow, evil grin splitting across his face. He starts howling with laughter. “Shit, Munson! I mean, I figured you’d be desperate for pussy, but this? This is a whole new level of pathetic.”

“Give it back!” Eddie snarls, desperately trying to free himself. 

The third jock doubles over, cackling, then reads aloud in a nasally, mocking voice, “I have dreams about you…”

One of the goons pinning Eddie down snorts, and loosens his grip. “Hold up, I wanna read it —” 

Eddie, sensing his chance, breaks out of their grasp, and makes a move to snatch his note back. Before he can, the third jock crumples it into a ball and tosses it over his head to one of his friends; Eddie makes a wild grab for it, and misses.

High school students start to trickle in, drawn to a fight like flies to honey, crowding at the edges of the scene. 

The four boys play a game of Eddie-in-the-middle, the onlookers puzzled but intrigued, watching the mysterious paper whiz back and forth through the air. Growing angrier by the second, fed up with the childish antics, Eddie finally stops trying to catch the note. Instead, he cocks his fist back and lets it smash into the third jock’s nose.

There’s a collective “oooh!” from the mass of students. Eddie and the jock scuffle, both now determined to fuck the other one up as badly as possible. One goon steps in to help his friend, while the other scoops the wadded-up paper off the floor, so he can finally skim the content of Eddie’s heart for himself.

And then suddenly, the most devastating thing of all: the asshole is hollering your name over the din.

For the first time ever, Eddie finds himself hoping that the bully he’s fighting actually kills him. Because death would be better than this.

“Where’s she at? She’s gotta hear this — hey, guess what! The freak is in love with you!”

Eddie wheels around in horror. The other goon grabs him from behind, rendering him motionless again, but it barely registers. The crowd has parted like the Red Sea, everyone stepping aside to make a clear path for you to walk through. You approach nervously, looking completely bewildered as to why you’re being summoned. Eddie wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

The goon thrusts the paper out to you. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” he sneers.

“More like a stalker,” the third jock interjects, voice thick from his swollen nose. He steps in front of Eddie and gives him a bloody smile, flexing his hand menacingly. “Hold his face steady for me, would ya?”

“Stop it!” you shriek suddenly, snatching the paper without bothering to look at it. “You’re such assholes!”

“That’s ENOUGH!”

Principal Higgins has finally decided to do his job, it seems. He marches through the crowd — “Get to class, all of you!” — and pulls the two boys apart. 

“My office. Now.”

He corrals the four boys down the hallway, towards the office, as the other students scatter about, flushed with excitement. None of them cast a backwards glance at you, head bent, reading the crumpled note with a furrowed brow.

~

An hour later and Eddie’s finally trudging his way through the parking lot.

He’s been sentenced to three days’ suspension. The guy he clocked made it out with one after-school detention, which he’ll most likely get out of due to basketball obligations, and the other two got off scot-free. Principal Higgins’s reasoning was that Eddie, because he’s the only one who did any ‘real’ damage, should get the worst punishment.

Sure, he threw the hardest punch. But the idea that any of those three are suffering worse than he is right now is downright laughable.

The hot, bitter embarrassment of it all is making his skin itch. There’s a lump in his throat; he can feel the start of angry tears prickling in his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he starts driving — the last thing he needs right now is an excuse for one of Hawkins’ finest to pull him over. God knows how much they love doing that.

“Eddie!”

He doesn’t turn around, rage and shame making him want to disappear. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, or ever again, probably.

“Eddie! Wait!” 

A light hand caresses his back, then curls around his bicep. He whips around, already on the defensive; you flinch backwards at his aggressive stance.

As soon as he sees that it’s you, all the tension in his body dissipates. His eyes widen and his lips part in shock; his skin becomes dead-white, then bright red in the span of about four seconds.

“I’m sorry,” the words tumble out of his mouth. “For the note — for everything. You weren’t supposed to know it was me.” He stares down at his feet, unable to look at you. 

“Did you really mean it? All that stuff you said?”

Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Well…yeah.” He rubs his clammy forehead with his hand in distress, heart rate spiking again. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m the biggest fucking creep, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to give it to you —”

“I don’t think you’re a creep.”

Eddie falls silent. His eyes finally flit up to meet yours, and he’s surprised to find that you don’t look…angry. Or repulsed, or even annoyed. Your gaze is soft, the corners of your mouth pulled slightly down in a worried frown. You look concerned. 

Is that for him?

“You swear you weren’t playing a joke on me?” you ask.

Eddie starts, taken aback. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do something like that to you, ever. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

You nod slowly, seeming to believe him. You swing your backpack off your shoulder so you can unzip the front pocket, and pull the dreaded love note from inside. Eyes roaming the paper once more, a small smile appears on your lips. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” Then your expression turns more serious, and there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “And I’m so sorry that those jerks did that to you. That was terrible. But you don’t have to be embarrassed about me reading it. I love the note. Thank you for writing it.”

He can scarcely believe this conversation is happening. He’s thought about you standing in front of him like this for years — imagined what it would be like to have you look at him and really see him, the way you do right now. Now that he’s living it, it’s almost too much for him to handle.

You hesitate, like you’re unsure of what to say next. “Um, to be honest, I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

“How could I not?” he says dazedly. The notion that he might not know who you are is absurd to him.

You shyly avert your eyes, like you’re overwhelmed by the praise. Pressing on, you tell him, “You did get one thing wrong, though.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I’m not perfect — certainly not too perfect for you to come and talk to, or — or ask out. I think you’re a good guy.”

Is there air left in his lungs? It doesn’t feel like it. “Oh,” he manages faintly. He’s too scared to say anything else, that a single incorrect word will break this spell.

You give him a gentle smile. “So…are you busy right now?”

Eddie hides his shaking hand behind his back, blushing furiously. “No, I’m not busy right now. Actually, um, I’m not even allowed back here for the next three days, so…yeah, I’m — I’m pretty open.”

You nudge his arm playfully. “Do you wanna go do something?”

Even through his leather jacket the contact makes his skin tingle. “Yes!” he practically shouts, then lowers his volume. “Sorry. I mean, you read my note. So you understand that this is kind of a big deal for me.”

You laugh, and not unkindly. 

“Well, let’s get going then. We have a lot of time to make up for.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

[im-robins-bitch]

Hii,

If your up for it could u write a fruity four x reader imagine based off of the song tongues and teeth by the crane wives where reader runs into a ex that used to treat them horribly and made them believe that all they could do was hurt other people triggering those old feelings leading them to pull away from Steve, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy

(Sorry for the long ask 🤍)

Poison (fruity four x g!n reader)

Or, You run into your ex and find yourself reflecting on your past self, do you deserve the love you find yourself surrounded with? (3.4k)

Anon, Sorry this took so long, I love the Crane Wives sm I was really excited by this request so I wanted to make it perfect and then it accidentally got really long and filled with irrelevant scenes that I had to scrap and will probably be posted at some point. I hope you like it lmk <3 Thank you so much for the request

Reader was in a toxic, abusive relationship (No scenes of this relationship and it is only briefly mentioned that it was abusive). Reader in this fic was mentioned to be an asshole in the past, but it's up to you whether she truly was or if she just thinks that bc of their ex.

Warnings: mentions of toxic, abusive relationships. Reader thinks she deserved to be hurt, the ex now has a baby. Ex threw things at the reader. Food, depictions of cooking and eating.

“You remember the voices Eddie taught you?” 

Steve sighs into his bowl of lucky charms, stirring the spoon around restlessly. His cereal had gone soggy, something he hated, but he hadn’t had a single spoonful since he sat down. 

“I remember,” He mumbled, looking at the milk in his bowl as if it would conjure up all the answers of the universe for him. You rub a warm hand up and down his back to try and soothe him, it works, a bit. 

Then Eddie's head is poking over Steve’s shoulder, eyeing Steve’s bowl in a way that you know means trouble. Instead of the usual playful spat, that always ends with Steve reluctantly sharing his bowl of cereal, Steve passes Eddie the spoon without argument. 

Eddie kisses his cheek sweetly, rubbing his nose into the chub of his cheek before digging in. “Wanna give us a taste?” Eddie questions, mouth full. 

Steve’s cheeks are pink as he shakes his head, his perfectly styled hair not moving an inch. You can taste all the hairspray he’s used this morning. You keep your warm palm against his back, hoping some of it will seep into his bones and make him a little less tense. 

He’s been like this all week and you know he won’t be able to relax until the day is over. Getting a placement at a kindergarten had been all Steve had talked about all year, all he had been looking forward to. Now it was happening, he was terrified. 

Today was make or break, it was his first attempt at a storytime. 

He had spent a long time researching books with Nancy and had rehearsed reading the book to you and Robin and had practised his voices with Eddie. You thought all this made him overqualified for the position. 

There couldn’t be a person out there who cared so much about this. It was just Steve all over, he cared so much. He loved so much. It made you want to swaddle him in your arms and keep him safe forever. 

“If any of those punks make fun of you let me know and I’ll kick their ass,” Eddie garbled around another mouthful of lucky charms. 

“You think they’ll make fun of me,” Steve worried, his first clenching around the countertop. 

“Eddie!” Nancy chided. Eddie almost lept from his seat at Nancy’s sudden appearance. She stood in the doorway, as perfect as ever. Brown briefcase held tightly in her hand, her blazer hanging perfectly on her small frame. “You’re overthinking this Steve, it’ll be fine,” Nancy assured, kissing the top of Steve’s head. “And for the last time Eddie, no kicking children,” 

“Some kids deserve it” He argues.

“Ready?” Nancy asks you, ignoring Eddie, much to his annoyance.

You cast a wary look at Steve, you were reluctant to leave him alone like this, but you were the girl’s lift to work, so you had to trust Eddie would find a better way to comfort your boyfriend than his current tactic. 

“Ready” You confirmed, checking your reflection quickly in the toaster. 

Nancy pressed a kiss to the back of Eddie's head, eyelashes fluttering against his frizzy hair. Then she moved to Steve, lips lingering a little longer on his cheek.

“Ro-”

“Here!” Robin yelled, interrupting Nancy’s call of her name. She had a reputation for being late that she was trying to put behind her. 

“Let's go!” Nancy sang, holding your arm in one hand and wrapping her other around Robin’s waist to pull her towards the door. 

“Good luck Steve!” The three of you called together.

-

You’re still thinking about Steve and wondering how his story time went as you’re organising the vinyl at work. You wonder if you should call him, trying to remember when the kid's nap time is so you can get him on the phone. You don’t want to interrupt, but you can’t help but worry about him. 

In between thoughts of Steve, you’re trying to keep track of which ABBA albums need to be restocked.

You’re so busy thinking of ways to celebrate or cheer him up in case of disaster, that you miss the chime of the bell.

“Still working here huh?” You freeze at the familiar voice, all thoughts leaving your mind. The one voice you wished you’d never have to hear again. “Some people just aren’t meant to change I guess,” 

You stand up, brushing off the dust on your knees. You hate how you’re immediately flooded with embarrassment. “Can I help you?” You ask in the friendliest voice you can muster. 

They take it in offence, hands held aloft in surrender, “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it, you really haven’t changed at all,” They laugh, your heart beating faster in your chest at the sound of it. You hate how they still have such an effect on you. 

“Did you want something?” You ask again, colder this time. Letting the hatred you feel seep through. Your arms, crossed over your chest, erupt in goosebumps. You can feel your heartbeat like it’s in your ears, pounding again and again. It’s an effort to remember how to breathe without it sounding rugged. 

You were both bad for each other, that’s what you settled on after the fact. They would tear you to shreds and act as if you were the one in the wrong. You could be just as cruel, the relationship was a toxic one and it turned you both sour. 

 It took so many nights of talking and looking back on the relationship to realise that you didn’t need to be the person they painted you to be. You hadn’t been perfect, no one was, but you felt you had learnt from your mistakes and hoped they had done the same. 

 “Thought we could have an adult conversation, but obviously not,” They sneered, tone condescending. 

They looked around the store you’re usually proud of with disdain. “God, I’m so fucking glad we broke up,” They laugh, flicking the sleeve of a vinyl, making you scowl. You feel the same but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “My life has been so much better ever since you left it,” 

It’s like a dagger to the chest. If you were in your right mind, maybe you would wonder why if they felt like that they would seek you out. Especially since they don’t even bother to buy anything before they leave.

-

When Robin had last seen you, you were pushing her out of the car, trying to stifle your giggles. 

In her rush to get out of the house on time, she forgot her scarf. You had bundled her up in your own which looked ridiculous. Eddie had knitted it for you, but then he got so caught up in seeing how long he could make it that when you wore it, it went down past your knees. 

You thought it looked great, but it was a bit of a tripping hazard so when it came to Robin you wrapped it around her neck over and over until it was an appropriate length. Only she couldn’t move her neck to look down. You had been laughing at her the whole drive, much to her annoyance. 

Now all she wanted was for you to look at her and laugh, but you didn’t even spare her a glance when she walked into the house, or when she unspooled the long scarf from around her neck. 

You’re still in your work clothes, even though you must have gotten home an hour ago at least. The TV is playing credits, but you’re watching them like they’re the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. 

All she wants to do is touch you. She restrains herself though, she knows people don’t always want to be touched and it can make things worse. 

As if you can tell that she’s about to ask you something, you change channels and turn up the volume on the TV. You lean against the side of the sofa, further out of her reach and feign interest in a Miami Vice episode. 

Getting the message she leaves you to it and joins Steve and Nancy in the kitchen, who are chatting over the kitchen counter. Nancy has already started making a pot of soup. 

Steve is dutifully making grilled cheese sandwiches and plain slices of toast. They work in unison, Nancy passing Steve the butter before he even needs to ask, Steve wrapping one arm around her hip when he joins her on the hob, warming up the pan so he can toast the bread. 

He’s left two cheese toasties to the side, to be grilled when Eddie gets home. 

“Not waiting?” Robin asks, catching the pair's attention. Nancy smiles, wordlessly passing her wooden spoon to Steve who accepts it without question. She holds Robin tightly in her arms, pressing kisses to her cheeks. She didn’t realise how much she needed a hug until now and how much better it would make her feel after your rejection. 

“Thought some food might cheer everyone up,” Nancy explains, nodding towards the living room. Robins nods, squeezing Nancy back, hoping she won’t let go of her anytime soon. 

“Did she say anything?” Steve asks, looking away from the soup briefly. 

Robin shakes her head sadly and Nancy makes a sympathetic noise in her ear, rubbing her manicured hand up and down Robin’s back. “What about you?” Robin asks Nancy.

“Nothing,” Nancy sighs, pulling away from Robin when she realises that Steve has stopped stirring her soup. She bats his hand away and hip-checks him out of the way, deciding to take charge again. At least that's something she has control over. 

The rest of the dinner is made in relative silence, Robin sets out the cutlery on the living room table, along with everyone’s preferred drinks. At one point Robin can tell you’re about to make an excuse not to eat at all, but a raised brow from Nancy has you sinking to the floor.

Robin’s eyes have been nervously flickering from her soup to you. She’ll see your lips part for a moment like you’re about to say something, but you close them just as fast, swallowing down soup and tearing at your bread. 

You all eat hunched over the living room table, Eddie is missed even more than ever as silence haunts the table. No one can work out what to say.

You can feel yourself putting a dampener on everything but feel so shaken from the interaction this afternoon that it’s all that you can think about. You’ve heard people say their exes were the worst things that happened to them, but you never thought you would have been one of those. 

Had you truly been that bad?

When Nancy leans over to grab your hand you smile at her or attempt to. Then when she lets go your hand sinks off the table and down to your thigh out of reach. 

What if one day they thought about you like that? What if one day they’re glad that you broke up? They continue without you, happier without you. 

It’s then that you remember, to your horror, all about Steve’s story time. The cake you had planned to buy him in celebration.  How could you be so selfish, forgetting about something Steve had been worried about for so long? 

“How did story time go?” You ask, timidly. 

Robin and Nancy are patient, but Steve has never been. He’s going out of his mind with worry. Perhaps it's because he’s suddenly lost a girlfriend before. Thought she had loved him the way he loved her until she pulled the rug out from under his feet and told him it wasn’t working and that they were nothing. 

It took so long for him to come back from that, even though he’s over the girl who said it, he still occasionally fears that all this love could be fleeting.  

He smiles, abandoning the last of his toastie to thread his greasy fingers between your own. They slip against your hand and when he squeezes, he tries to push as much love into it as he can. “It went really well,”

“Yeah?” You ask more enthusiastically. Steve’s smiles have always been contagious. The pretty curve of his smile and the movement of his freckles as his cheeks apple, it’s the kind of smile that makes you believe in love at first sight.

“Mrs Lemon wants me to read again tomorrow,” Steve grins. 

Everyone at the table erupts in excitement at Steve’s news. Robin drops the last bit of her toastie into her soup and has to fish it out with her spoon, fingers turning red in her attempts. Nancy's hand rubs up and down Steve’s thigh, in congratulations for his good news and for bringing you out of your melancholy. 

Robin has you hold up her glass to her lips so she can take a sip of water without getting her soupy fingers all over the glass. It causes her to dribble water all over the table and she can’t even find it in her to be embarrassed when it results in giggles and your fingers brushing across her chin to catch the drips. 

When everyone finished you’re quick to gather everyone's bowls and dismiss any help. You want to feel useful after sulking on the sofa while everyone else has made dinner. 

-

This whole weekend you had been a whirlwind of productivism. Unless Eddie was forcing you to sit on the sofa with his head in your lap, you were doing something for someone else. Any errand anyone was putting off was finished by you that weekend. You had gotten the juice stains out of Steve’s jumper, sewn up the hole in Robin’s jacket pocket, reorganised Nancy’s toiletry cupboard and buffed her briefcase. Eddie had to coerce you into a cuddle to stop you from sewing up the holes in his favourite socks. 

He hadn’t attended last night's dinner but had heard all about it from a concerned Nancy and spent the whole weekend attached at your side. 

He did everything one-handed, not wanting to spend a second not touching you. It was so out of character for you to be so withdrawn. Steve and Robin assumed it was a bad day or more specifically a bad customer. 

Nancy and Eddie had a gut feeling it was something more important. You didn’t often keep things to yourself, you found talking about problems usually stopped them from bothering you so much. If whatever happened hadn’t felt fixable to you by a rant and a cuddle, something must have happened. 

Eddie wanted to be there, ready, for when you wanted to tell him. He never wanted anyone to feel as alone as he once felt, drowning in his worries, before his uncle took him in. 

Nancy, though claiming she was taking a more relaxed approach, glanced at you about every two seconds, checking your reactions. 

So when you had said you needed to go out to the store, Nancy and Eddie shared a look and insisted they both needed to come with you. Eddie for some smokes and Nancy for a specific body lotion she claimed would be too hard for you to find. 

They were so obvious it would be annoying if they weren’t so endearing. 

-

You ended up in Bradleys.

You had been antsy to get in, buy the cake you planned to get for Steve on Friday and then transform yourself into the partner your lovers deserved. 

Instead, Eddie had taken his sweet time driving you all there, even though normally he called the speed limit a suggestion. Then he convinced you that you needed to walk up and down each aisle to make sure you didn’t ‘forget’ anything. It would have been an accomplishment to forget anything when you only have one item to obtain each. 

The basket hooked on one arm, you hooked through the other,  Eddie was strutting down the isles bobbing his head along to the pop songs he ‘hated’. Even though Eddie’s reasoning was ridiculous, it did feel relaxing to take your time walking through the various aisles together. 

Eddie’s fingers were tracing up and down Nancy’s spine as she held two types of tea in her hand, reading the backs carefully. “Do you think these work?” She asked, holding out the packages for you to inspect, two different teas both promising to help with sleep.

You took one out of her hands, to inspect the ingredient list. Robin’s mum had said something about lavender last time you had spoken, but you weren’t sure that was digestible. 

“If you need help sleeping, I’ve got the perfect solution” Eddie teased, arms snaking around Nancy’s waist and squeezing as he dipped his face against her neck. Nancy shivered, feeling his cold nose trace her neck and his curls tickle her collarbones, the basket digging into her sides.

“Stop!” She said, trying not to smile, wiggling out of his arms and lightly slapping at his arms, “I can’t take you anywhere,” 

Eddie pressed a wet kiss to her cheek. His arm went over her shoulder, grabbing the box of tea out of Nancy’s hand and dropping it into the basket. “Mrs Norris used to drink that one,” He explained, taking the other one from your hand to put it back on the shelf. “Always knocked her out cold when she was supposed to be babysitting me”

Nancy huffed, crossing her hands across her chest as Eddie encouraged you both to the end of the aisle, hands wandering. “You have no shame” She scolded, cheeks burning at the wink he gave her in response. Still, he dropped his hands from her but continued to lead you both down to the frozen section, in search of ice cream. 

She stopped at a display of lip balms, letting the two of you go on ahead. Her gaze did not linger on his fingers curled around the basket handle, or the dip of his spine that his cropped band shirt exposed.

You were still smiling over Eddie as you watched him search the freezers for the giant tub of Neapolitan-flavoured ice cream. He always made a big display of it, sometimes he and Robin would compete to see who could keep their hands in the freeze the longest. 

Nancy soon floated behind you, her floral perfume altering you to her presence long before she slid her hand into your own. She leaned into your space, so close you could smell the curl cream she and Eddie shared. The pair, despite their differences, had a surprising amount in common. 

“How mad do you think he’ll be if we refuse to hold his hand when he gets the ice cream?” Nancy whispered. 

“I think we’ll hear about it for the rest of the night,” 

Eddie cranes his head, looking you both up and down conspiringly. He fished the last tub from the back of the freezer and dropped it into the basket with a thud. It crushes the flimsy box of tea, but Eddie’s attention is on the guilty expression you’re wearing. 

He holds his freezing hands out expectantly, wanting you to come and warm him up after his valiant efforts of searching in the freezers. 

Nancy shakes her head at him, but his doe eyes can’t hold you off for long so soon he’s holding one of your hands in both his. You flinch at his touch and he pouts childishly, lashes fluttering. 

“I risk my fingers for you, and this is the thanks I get,” Eddie huffs at Nancy over the top of your head, “At least you love me, sweetheart,” He coos kissing the side of your head. 

“You hardly risked your fingers,” Nancy says rolling her eyes as she tugs your hand to lead you down to the toiletries aisle. You think half-heartedly about the cake, vanilla and shaped like a heart, that you wanted to get Steve, but then think of the crushed box of tea, it might be best to leave it for last. 

“I was very close to hypothermia,” Eddie dramatises, flexing his fingers against yours. You feel the cold bump of his rings, they’re usually cold but feel even more so after being in the freezer. 

Nancy ignores him and walks straight to the body lotion, hand reaching out for her usual choice, but lingering on a couple of new scents. Strawberries & Cream sounds like it would smell pretty nice, plus the bottle matches her nails. 

She picks it up, dropping your hand in the process and uncaps the lid to give it a smell. Eddie takes your dropped hand before it can even fall to your side, now, he threads his fingers through yours with a giddy smile. 

He pecks a kiss on your nose catching you off guard and pulls you off to the side next to the baby powders, moving you away from an oncoming cart. 

You lean in to kiss his own but are brought out of your lovesick stupor by a harsh cough.  Eddie glares at the culprit, kissing your lips extra firm. The person coughs again and you push Eddie away from you and try to move out of the way, catching sight of the person coughing at you. 

It’s always a shock to see your ex unexpectedly, it’s even worse when they’re with a beautiful partner and they have a child sitting in the cart tugging a little plush to their chest. It shocks you for about a million reasons, the most hurtful being that the entire time you had been together they claimed to never want children. 

Yet here, in front of you, is the clear proof that they did. 

“Nancy!” 

It’s a small town, everyone knows everyone. Still, it shocks you that their new partner knows Nancy. You feel so different from your old self that a reminder of it is terrifying. 

Suddenly you’re scared, what had your ex told them? How badly had they painted you? what if they tell Nancy? 

The worst part is that if they were to tell her, it would have been entirely your fault. How could you be mad at someone for telling the truth? You hadn’t been the greatest partner in the past, but you were trying to make up for that. It felt like you had made up for that. 

You make eye contact with your ex, who isn’t even trying to hide their disappointment at seeing you twice in such a short amount of time, still, it’s obvious by the conversation Nancy is getting into that they’ll be standing around for a while. 

Your eyes try to look at everything, but the person who’s fucked with your head for the last couple of days. The child, old enough that it must have been born within a year of your breakup, hair a dark brown colour, coils around their shoulders. They look so happy, a picture-perfect family. 

You excuse yourself, using the cake you need as an excuse to go to a different aisle. Eddie tries to go after you but is cut off by an old lady jamming her shopping cart in front of him with a rude huff, muttering about young people these days. She runs over his foot and he almost takes down the entire shelving unit when he backs into it.

When Eddie finds you, standing in front of an empty shelf, sniffing into your hands, he’s crushed. 

-

The drive back had been awkward. 

Nancy had found you both and sent Eddie to pay for everything while she took you to the car. You refused to cite anything but the cake’s being sold out as the reason for your tears, but it’s clear that there was something more. 

It isn’t until you’re home, that the extent of your upset is clear. At the supermarket, you had clung onto Nancy and Eddie for life, feeling personally devastated at the thought of either of them leaving you.

Now leaving was all you could think of doing. 

You had packed your bag, unpacked and re-packed it again. You just couldn’t get it out of your head, how much happier everyone might be without you. Your last relationship played through your mind like a reel.

All the times your exe had yelled at you, called you a bitch, the problem. You could be forgetful, self-absorbed, hurtful. You thought you had changed, but you had proved yourself wrong on Friday, ignoring Steve’s accomplishment to stew in your self-obsession. 

There was a knock on your door, but it was a warning rather than a request as Steve and Robin barged in without waiting for a response. 

“Are you ok?” Robin asked, skirting around your clutter to land on the bed, beside the duffle bag you were about to re-pack. “Actually no, I know you’re not ok, so don’t bother lying,” Robin huffed, pushing the fly aways from her face and staring at you in determination. 

Her hands darted out to your sides, holding you firmly in place. On her knees, on your bed, she begged you to tell her exactly what was wrong, “You always feel better after talking to me, I can help you, whatever it is. If it’s working at the vinyl store we’ll get you a new job, you could come to work with me in the museum archives?” 

“It’s not…it’s not that,” You stutter, fingers feeling tingly as your eyes dart nervously from Robin to Steve, who hasn’t moved from standing at the door. You can’t see his expression, but the vein on his neck is close to bursting. 

I’m the problem, you think, but you’re all too sweet to realise and you’ll be too kind to tell me when you do work it out. 

Robin’s nose bumps your sternum bringing your attention back to her. She presses a kiss to the swell of your stomach. Her hands are ever wandering, frantic in their need to comfort you, but unsure where to go. “You can tell me,” She promises, her sea-blue eyes boring into yours. Your eyes water as you try to think of what to say. 

“You’re leaving,” Steve’s voice is cold, and his stare is even colder. He nods to the duffle bag on the bed, glaring at it with the heat of a thousand suns. 

Robin looks at the bag that she hadn’t registered, shaking her head in disbelief, until she sees the crumbling expression on your face and realises it’s true. Her hands drop from your body and she darts from the bed like a person burnt. She brushes past Steve, rushing out of your room and you can hear her fast footsteps retreat down the hall.

“You…you don’t understand,” You try to defend, hands falling into fists in frustration. 

“No, I understand,” Steve spits, arms crossed across his chest, muscles clenched, “You’re just like her, only so much worse,” 

“Ste-”

“Don’t” Steve scoffs “You promised us you wouldn’t do this, promised me.” His voice breaks and he has to turn his face to the side, collect himself and wipe the rouge tears that he let escape. 

You sink in on yourself, “It’s…it’s for the best, I’m…I,”

Steve laughs, fist banging against the door frame, startling you, you have to steady your hands on the bed to stop yourself from falling. 

Your stomach lurches, it doesn’t feel right. You’re last breakup hadn’t ended like this, they hadn’t been mad at you for leaving, they had been mad you hadn’t broken up sooner. That they hadn’t been the one to dump you.

You fear you might have made a terrible mistake, but then remember what they had said when you broke up. That you were poison, that you ruined everything that you touched, how much happier they had been before you. Now you knew how much happier they were without you afterwards too. 

They would thank you in the long run. 

“If you walk out this door right now, I’m never going to forgive you,” Steve’s heart was cracking. Just like last time, he was caught off guard. His voice was stern, but his expression was heartbreaking. 

“Steve!” Yelled Nancy, pushing past him in the doorway and walking over to you instead. Her hair was half dry, one side still dripping water onto the collar of her shirt. 

Eddie, hair wrapped in the band shirt he had worn to the store, mirrored Nancy, only taking Steve into his arms instead of you. “Let’s all just calm down a second,” Nancy suggested, pulling you down to sit on her lap. She threw your duffle bag off the bed, sending it clattering into your wardrobe. 

“Take a deep breath,” Eddie suggested, palm warm over Steve’s chest. Robin fiddled with Steve’s fingers, eyeing everyone warily. Steve matched his breathing to Eddie’s, lips wobbling as Eddie’s thumb wiped the sticky tears from his cheeks. 

If you felt awful before, now you feel diabolical. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You confessed, trying to push out of Nancy's soothing hold because you felt so undeserving. She had a surprising amount of strength though and held you firm against her chest, “I didn’t mean, I don’t want to hurt anybody, this is exactly what I don’t want, I just want you all to be happy” 

Robin, tentatively let go of Steve’s hand, who Eddie was leading further into the bedroom. Nancy wrangled you so you were leaning against her where she sat against the headboard. Her head resting on your shoulder while her hand was rubbing up and down your back. 

Robin sat down at the foot of the bed, hand reaching out carefully to rub at your leg. “Please can you explain? So we can all understand, why you want to…leave,” Robin asked, hardly able to say the word.

The bed dipped as Eddie sat himself down to the side of you and Nancy, but Steve still refused to sit, standing up with his thighs touching the bed, hand clasped tightly in Eddie’s. 

You took a deep breath and tried to explain “I saw, my ex, first they visited me at work-”

Steve’s grip on Eddie white-knuckled as he scoffed, assuming the worst. You shrunk further back into Nancy making her glare at Steve who rolled his eyes. He was still sure you were about to rip out their hearts. 

“Go on,” Nancy encouraged.

“He said, he was glad we broke up and at first I just thought, yeah me too, but then I started thinking and,I was awful,”

“Did you start thinking that? Or did he make you think that?” Nancy asked. 

“Well, I mean, I guess he implied it and he always used to say it, like I would ruin things and he would throw things, sometimes, when I did something bad,” 

Steve sat down on the bed, looking at you tearfully, “He would throw things at you?” Now he felt himself crying for an entirely different reason. 

“It wasn’t- I was just as bad,”

“Did you throw things at them?” Questioned Robin. 

You shook your head, “No, but I de-”

“I know you’re not about to say you deserved it, no one ever deserves that sweetheart,” 

“I was an asshole, I was cruel and hurtful.” You explained, “You can say they shouldn’t have hurt me, but I hurt them just as much with every word I said. How can I deserve to be happy like this? I’ve been trying to change, but what if i can’t” 

Steve feels a rush of sympathy through his chest. The anger that surged through his body turned from a fiery rage to a simmering heat, directed at whoever made you feel like this. He knows exactly how it feels to try to change, but not be given a chance. 

To this day the title of King Steve follows him around like a bad dream. He’s taken responsibility for his actions and changed for the better, but for a long time, he wondered if it would ever be enough to make up for the hurt he had caused. Did he deserve the friendship Robin offered, that had led him down the path to this? 

You gulped eyes starting to water. “I just don’t want to ruin things, I don’t want to hurt anyone I love again, I’m so sorry Steve, I already hurt you so much and if I stay I might-”

Steve shuffled forward, pulling you roughly from Nancy’s embrace into his own. His strong arms wrapped around you and his tear-stained cheeks stuck to your own.  “The only way you could truly hurt me is if you left right now,” He pulled himself out of your embrace so he could hold his face in your hands. 

“You deserve to be happy, you deserve a chance to change,” Steve promises, tacky lips pressing into the top of your head over and over again, trying to let it sink in. 

“For the record, this version of you you’re describing, I don’t think I’ve ever met them,” Eddie says, palm firm as it rubs up and down Steve’s quaking back. 

“But I- I forgot all about Steve’s big day,” You huff, voice thick with frustration. 

“Honey, you spent the morning comforting me and asked me about it when you got home.” Steve placates. 

“Not right away though, I sat on the sofa for ages, just thinking about myself,”

“Think that’s understandable after the run-in you had,” Steve’s hand keeps a warm grip on your cheeks, eyes softening as he kisses underneath your teary eye.

“Lovely, you’ve never made any of us feel anything but loved and I hope you feel the same about us” Nancy offered, stroking your shoulder with soft fingers. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I even thought about leaving I was just, so caught up and I wasn’t thinking properly.”

 “Do you still want to?” Asked Robin tentatively, hands ghosting the sides of your leg. 

You shook your head, lip starting to wobble, “I never wanted to, I just thought- I thought I had to,- Oof!” You exclaimed, Robin’s soft body dropping on top of you and Steve, squishing you down against Nancy, who took the weight like a champ. 

Her arms winded around Steve, you and Nancy, squeezing Steve so tight he thought she might break one of his ribs. “I think as long as us five stick together, we can get through anything” 

“Well said Buckley,” Grinned Eddie, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

Eventually, you all moved from your room into Nancy and Steve’s which had the biggest bed. 

Nancy was removing the decorative pillows from the bed to place them on the ottoman instead. Eddie was helping, but his idea of helping was throwing them at Robin who was trying to dodge them while drinking the tea Nancy had gotten her at the store. A potentially deadly combination that required Nancy’s intervention. 

Steve was with you in the en suite, the two of you hadn’t spent much time apart since the earlier misunderstanding. Steve had joined you in the shower while Nancy and Eddie finished drying their hair. 

You had shared a bowl of ice cream, even though Steve didn’t like ice cream all that much anymore while watching the Documentary Eddie borrowed from the library for Robin. 

Steve had just finished washing your face for you, letting you sit on the counter. Now you were brushing his hair for him. You started carefully combing it back with a fine-tooth comb, but now we're just using your fingers, styling it wildly to make him laugh. 

You were currently attempting a mohawk with little success. He had one hand wrapped around his toothbrush while the other was holding your wrist, fingers pressing into your pulse. It felt good to be the reason Steve laughed instead of the reason he had been crying. 

“I’m sorry Steve,” You whispered again, against his forehead, pressing a light kiss between his eyebrows. 

“Already forgiven lovely,” Steve promised, bending his head to kiss your pulse point. “ but, please tell me what I did wrong” He murmured, turning bashful.

“What?” Now it was your turn to look at Steve in shock. “You didn’t do anything wrong?” 

“Please, you can tell me, otherwise how will I not do it again?” Steve spares you a glance with eyes so earnest it breaks your heart. 

Steve had felt so guilty since he heard your confession, you had thought that you would make them unhappy, in his head it translated that he hadn’t made it clear just how much he adores you. 

“You didn’t Stevie, I promise. I was too in my own head” You kiss him gently “I still am, to be honest,” You confess smoothing his hair down behind his ears, kissing him once again for good measure. “I promise I’ll tell you next time I start spiralling,”

He burrowed his face in your neck, inhaling the smell of strawberries and cream. It scared him to think he would never be this close to you ever again, that he could lose out on all this. “God I hope there isn’t a next time, I love you, you make me- you make us so much happier,”

“Thank you for caring about me, I know it can be hard,” 

“Caring about you is easy, it’s like breathing I don’t even have to think about it, I just do it” 

“Stevie,” You mumble, tucking yourself against his shoulder, “You’re such a loverboy,” You peck him again. 

After another five minutes of cuddling, you go into the bedroom and find yourself in a love pile on the bed. 

Robin is smushed, out cold on top of you and Nancy. Nancy flanks you one one side and Steve is on your other, breath puffing against your neck. Eddie is wrapped around him, his heavy leg draped across you and Steve. 

If he was ever right, about you being poison, you’re certain you’ve found your antidote. 

masterlist

[im-robins-bitch]

reader shaves down clitoria (because of course Eddie has a name for her pussy) maybe it's not even that big of a change, taking her down from a beard to a goatee or something, just a trim, and Eddie acts she shot him 🙄

Falling to his knees screaming NOOOOO!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?! CLITORIA, MY GIRL!

and r is like... 😐 Eddie, it's hair. It was on the verge of poking out of my jeans. please stop before the neighbors call the police

but then of course, he has to kiss it better. Clitoria suffered quite a bit at reader's hands and he is just absolutely forced to console his girl with his tongue

+18 mdni

and you just know he'd literally be insanely melodramatic about it

like kneeling in front of you, face pressed to your crotch, holding the backs of your thighs to keep you in place like "PLEASE, angel, have a heart. I'm in mourning 😔"

and when he eats you out later he's having a full conversation with your pussy in between licks and sucks and wet mouth to wet folds- "theeeere she is, fuck, sweetheart, so sorry, won't ever let you get cut down by the blade of that madwoman ever again..."

and even as you're gasping with each flick of his tongue, fingers digging into his scalp, you pant out, "don't you think you're being a touch- ah, right there- dramatic?"

and Eddie pauses, looks up at you from between your thighs, lips and chin glistening with your slick, cocks a dark eyebrow and says "d'ya mind? having a private conversation here." and goes back to it.

[im-robins-bitch]

Cherry on Top (Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader) Fluff

When the pining between Robin and the cute customer who comes into Scoops Ahoy becomes too much for Steve to bear, he hatches as plan to give them then gentle push they both so desperately need.

Word Count:1,184

Masterlist // Robin Buckley Masterlist

It was just a summer job Robin thought to herself. It's not forever.

Even so, working at Scoops Ahoy wasn't all that bad, sure the uniforms were silly, and slightly scratchy against her skin, the pay wasn't all that much, and sometimes customers were straight up rude. However, despite its ever-stacking list of cons, there were a few pros; such as staff discounts on ice cream, and working alongside Steve Harrington, who had surprisingly grown up a lot since high-school. Proving that he actually wasn't all that bad like she had been led to believe.

However Robin found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the cute customer who came in every Saturday, just to order the same thing she orders every time. One single scoop of chocolate, rainbow sprinkles with a cherry on top. 

Robin watched on from behind the crack in the serving window as the girl's eyes sparkled, and her smile beamed. No doubt laughing at Steve's attempt at flirtatious banter. 

Not that she’d ever tell him, but Robin was jealous of Steve. Jealous of the way the girl's eyes lit up when she looked at him, jealous of the way she laughed at every single one of his stupid jokes. How Steve seemed so effortlessly cool and calm, almost suave, around the girl that made Robin’s heart race annoyed her to no end.

“Hey Steve!” you cheer as you skip into Scoops ahoy on a hot Saturday afternoon. It was oddly quiet in the parlour today, save for a few people sitting in the booths

“Hey y/n! Same as usual?” he chirps back with his boyish smile.

“You know it!”

“Alright then, one scoop of chocolate, rainbow sprinkles and a cherry coming right up.” he smiles as he twirls his ice-cream scooper around with his fingers.

“So..Uh.. Steve, i-is Robin here today?” you ask him, your voice stuttering slightly with nerves.

“When are you just going to bite the bullet and ask her out already?” 

“Keep your voice down will ‘ya, Harrington, jeez” you whisper-shout as you shush him, looking around to see if anyone heard him.

“What? So you don’t want to take her out on a date and make out with her then?” he teases, as he hands you your ice-cream.

“I didn’t say that…” you drawl out, as you hand Steve over your money.

“Look, you think she’s cute, she thinks you’re cute, I don’t know what more you’re waiting for?” He softly laughs with a shake of his head.

“Wait…Robin thinks I’m cute? Did she say something to you?” you splutter at this revelation.

“Just leave it with me, alright? Think of me as your wing-man.” Steve says all too confidently. 

You eye him slightly, but ultimately decide that trusting him would be in your best interest, especially if it scored you a date with his best friend.

“I’ve got two tickets to see Footloose, c’mon Rob, don’t you wanna go with me..” Steve pleads down the phone.

Robin rolled her eyes at her friend. She could just see his floppy hair and dumb puppy-dog face in her mind, begging her to go with him.

“You’re actually asking me to go with you to see a musical? Steve, I thought you hated musicals? You told me you hated how unrealistic it was, and that ‘nobody bursts into song like that in real life’.” Robin teases with her impression of Steve. 

“Yeah, I know but you love ‘em, besides I’ve heard good things about this one.”

Robin rolled her eyes at her friend, but she’d already made her mind up that she was going to go, Steve was her best friend, and she’d do anything to make him happy. 

“Alright, what time is the movie?”

Robin Strolled up to the movie theatre, where Steve was already waiting for her outside.

“Hey! Robin!” Steve waves. “Over here!”

But as Robin got closer she could see the cute girl from the ice cream parlour.

“Hey look who I bumped into.” Steve smirked.

“Hi, Robin!” you wave cheerfully.

“Hey, yourself!” Robin replies, trying her best to play it cool. “So, what are you here to see?” 

“Oh I was just about to buy myself some tickets to see Footloose. Truth be told I have a soft spot for musicals.” you explain.

“Hey, why don’t you just take my ticket?” Steve offers, raising his eyebrows at you. This was his plan all along. He’d told you as much, explaining what was going to happen before he even phoned Robin. He was going to bail at the last minute to give you two some time alone together. It’s not that he didn’t love spending time with Robin, but the way she pined over you was beginning to become unbearable, so Steve took it upon himself, as your wing-man and Robin’s best friend to give you both the push you needed.

Robin looked at her friend like he had two heads. What was he doing leaving her alone with the girl she had been crushing on so badly that she’d barely spoken two whole sentences to her? 

“Oh Steve, you don’t have to do that!” you worry, before he assures that it’s no worries at all. 

“No, honestly, I insist. Dustin called me up earlier, said he needs me to pick him and the rest of the boys up from their little nerd club.”

“Well if you're absolutely sure” you say as you take the ticket Steve offers you.

“You girls go ahead and have fun without me!” He smiles triumphantly. 

Steve goes up to give Robin a hug before leaving, pulling her close enough to whisper in her ear.

“Enjoy your date, Dingus.” Steve whispers, pulling away from the hug with an affectionate smile.

You and Robin both sit through the movie, a shared bag of hot buttery popcorn sits between you both. Your hands grazing against each other a few times as you both reach for the bag at the same time, with a couple of mumbled apologies whispered to each other in between the music coming from the big screen.

The film draws to a close and you both exit the theatre with match smiles on your faces.

“I-I had a great time hanging out with you today.” Robin mumbles, her eyes looking down at the floor, because if she dared to look you in the eyes she would not be able to speak to you without fumbling over her words.

You tilt her chin up under your fingers, wanting to look at her properly.

You lean in close to her before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, your lips brushing against her flushed features.

“I had a great time too!” you smile. “Perhaps we can do this again sometime, like a proper date?”

Robin beams at your suggestion, elated that this had gone well enough that you were willing to go on another date with her.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Robin was going to have to give Steve the biggest thank you hug ever when she saw him next. 

@sunnythespookyghost @penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx @onegirlmanytales @mrsjellymunson @reidsbtch

[im-robins-bitch]

Smut request idea: Eddie worshipping reader's tits, who is insecure about their small size (lol totally not projecting 😅)

ty for requesting :D — eddie 'heart eyes' munson sees your boobs for the first time (cw for nudity, but no real smut, 18+ mdni, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

On a rainy, post-show night, in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, you decide to be brave.

Buzzing with alcohol, adrenaline, and adoration — a wild concoction rushing like fire through your veins — you take your shirt off for the very first time in front of him. Mostly because your sweater was getting itchy, so you’re not entirely sure how brave that makes you. But your skin burns still, empty like a blank sky, yearning for a warmer touch to fall over you like stars.

In the simplest, most human way, you need Eddie to touch you like you need to breathe air. 

So, when you tugged the fuzzy sweater up and over your head, you hadn’t thought much about doing it. You were too full of need, too unthinking. Head clouded with longing until you developed something short of tunnel vision for the boy underneath you.

It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Isn’t this what girlfriends do with boyfriends?

Eddie’s silence is not reassuring. It feels more like a knife lodged in the very center of your sternum.

You lay the sweater beside you and cross your arms slowly over yourself. Equal parts to hide what you’d just revealed to him and to shield your bleeding, stinging heart.

Eddie’s face twists, pained features swirling like a hurt puppy. “Wait— What are you doing?” he asks in an unabashed whine. His less-than-subtle pout deepens as his chocolate-button eyes flit up to yours.

You keep curling in on yourself, but from where you straddle his thighs, he’s impossible to run away from. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distantly fearful of the answer. 

You don’t have the kind of chest people put on magazines. Maybe you should’ve just kept the shirt on.

Eddie’s ringed fingers smooth around your bare waist. He realizes he’s holding you there for the very first time without any fabric covering you. His chest starts to sparkle. His thumbs rub gently at your ribcage, just below the arms still concealing yourself.

“‘Cause I’m too busy enjoying the view, honey,” he answers with a plush pink and crooked smile. His words are slightly slurred, weighed down by fatigue and desire. “How am I supposed to think when I’m looking at you, huh?”

You make a faint, grumbly noise, features scrunching in disdain at his compliment.

He smiles wider and curls his fingers around the wrists you hold over yourself. There is little force behind his touch, no eagerness to tug your hands away. Instead he just holds you, in a distinctly quiet embrace, telling you silently that you can let your guard down whenever you’re ready.

“So you don’t think they’re weird?”

He answers with an immediate scoff. “No, I don’t think they’re weird— I think they’re beautiful! I think every part of you is beautiful.”

You grow less and less tense in his hold. Your hands start to slip. You let them. 

Bare again in front of him, the boyish glimmer in Eddie’s dark eyes returns. 

The wild cadence of rain on the rusted tin roof resembles the rapid patter of his pounding heart as he ogles at you. And, with his back propped against the driver’s seat, he has the most perfect view of you.

The pale hands along your ribcage slowly start to rise. His warm touch leaves sparkling goosebumps in its wake. He doesn’t stop until his thumbs are settled neatly beneath your breasts.

“I mean— I always knew they’d be pretty, you know?” he mumbles, getting lost in you all over again. You don’t know if he’s talking to you, or if he even knows he’s rambling. “‘Cause when you’d let me feel you up, you know, over the shirt— I always imagined what you’d look like under it…”

He trails off then, forgets how to make words when his thumb rubs over your soft nipple. The gentle stimulation makes it stiffen beneath his touch. Eddie smiles to himself, all boyishly giddy.

“…But I couldn’t’ve, in my wildest imagination, expected this.”

Your chest warms with his affection. You scoff about it, anyway. “You’re such a boy,” you laugh.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty…” 

Still cupping your chest, Eddie leans down to kiss you there. A chaste, open-mouthed peck to your pebbled nipple. His heart swells when he hears you moan above him — your nose buried in the strands of his wild hair, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie licks his rosy lips when he pulls back from you. 

“See? You’re gonna kill me one day, doll— I swear,” he teases in a joking tone, but means every bit of it. He loves you so much it makes his chest ache. You’ll give him a goddamn heart attack one day if he’s not careful. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me this whole time…”

You’re not sure either, now. 

“I was just scared that… I don’t know,” you stammer, clammy hands fidgetting with his intentionally tattered Corroded Coffin t-shirt. You’d helped him cut rips into the white fabric before the show. You distract yourself with the pink lipstick smudge you’d pressed along the neck of it, rubbing hopelessly at a stain that’ll never come off. 

“I was scared that you’d think I was less pretty or something. I don’t know.”

“No,” Eddie recoils immediately, face twisting in abhorrence of the thought. He shakes his wild head at you. “No way. That’s not possible. I think you’re fucking— perfect. And I think that…”

His eyes fall to your chest again. He loses the rest of his words.

A smile blossoms on your face. You don’t think you’ve ever felt prettier than you do right now.

“You think that what?” you tease, hands rising again to twist in his deep brown curls.

Eddie’s button eyes flit back up to you. His ringed hands lift to cup your breasts in his wide palms. They fit just perfect in his hands — like he was made to hold you there. The width of his beam rivals your own. 

“That I just found Corroded Coffin’s next album cover,” he answers.

The sound of your laughter fills the van. Sunshine compared to the rolling rain outside.

“No. No way. That’s not happening,” you refuse, still smiling, as Eddie leans into you again.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he puts his mouth on you. He buries his own laughter against the plush of your breast — along with so many little kisses. 

He doesn’t mind your light-hearted rejection. The only thing Eddie likes more than showing you off is keeping you totally to himself.

[im-robins-bitch]

“i’m tireddd.”

*in a whiny voice* “i’m tired.” *mocking them*

this is sooo eddie coded

ty for feeding my grumpy eddie obsession anon — grump!eddie's boyfriend instincts take over when you're sleepy (ditzy!reader-ish, established relationship, fluff, 0.6k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

There’s something heavy in Eddie’s lap. Something heavy and warm and smelling like a fresh shower.

He fights open drooping eyelids, not knowing when he’d dozed off or how long he’d dozed off for — or exactly when you crawled haphazardly into his lap. He figures it couldn’t have been that long ago. ‘Cause his show is still on, and you’re still shifting to get comfortable over his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asks you, voice thick with sleep until he clears it away. 

You’ve got yourself curled in a tight ball, trying to make yourself as tiny as possible so you can fit more of yourself in his lap. The effort is futile. Only half you thrown over half of him. It doesn’t look comfortable in the slightest, but you settle with a contented sigh like you are, anyway. Eddie smooths a warm hand over your back and lets you lie there, on top of him.

“Laying on you,” you answer, muffled against him.

“Okay… Why?”

“‘Cause I love you.”

“Boo,” he moans. “Too vague.”

You whine. “Today was just so long, and I’m sooo tireddd.”

“Aww, you’re tired?” Eddie coos in a mocking voice. “You poor baby.”

He uses his sarcasm to compensate for how sweet he is to you. He acts annoyed but grabs a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over you anyway. Even goes as far as to swaddle you in it when he resituates you in his lap, sitting you more wholly over his thighs.

Vulnerability has always been hard for him, only ever feasible when he pretends it’s insincere.

“Is this better?” he mumbles into your hair.

You hum, warm against his neck. “Mhmm.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re blocking the TV.”

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying this,” you tease and pull slightly back from him. The tip of your nose runs up his jaw to the apple of his cheek. “There’s a reason I call you Teddy, you know?”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re soft. And fuzzy. And you love to cuddle.”

Eddie squints at you. “…You just made all that up.”

“You can like me, you know? We’re not in high school anymore, Teddy.”

“I always liked you,” he scoffs and holds you tighter against him, one arm around your back and the other beneath your knees. “Even before you knew I existed.”

“I always knew you existed!”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“Mr. Hauser’s Sex Ed class. Freshmen year. He was like, ‘That’s how the homo sapien male holds an erection—’” You recite it like it’s something you think about often. A reminiscent smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “—And the boy with the grown-out buzz cut behind me said, ‘Actually, Mr. Hauser, I think an erection is better held in the hand of the homo sapien female.’” 

Eddie laughs at the long-gone memory and starts to sparkle with it.

“And I’ve been smitten over that boy ever since,” you tell him with a sickly-sweet smile.

He scrunches his nose in disgust, still not used to the affection you show him so effortlessly. “You had a crush on me in ninth grade?” he teases like he hasn’t loved you since eighth.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Still do.”

“That’s so gross,” he grumbles like a storm cloud right before hugging you that much closer. 

He holds you with firm hands, suffocating in the best of ways, with every intention to melt with you. The bridge of his nose smushes into your neck. He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of your shampoo. His exhale fans warm against your skin.

“Too gross to kiss?” you wonder in a tiny voice.

“Yes,” he answers quickly as he pulls away. “But I like gross, so…”

You press a smacking kiss to his plush grin. Then another for good measure. You hug him closer and bury your face into his neck. “Mm. You taste like a TV dinner,” you mumble into his skin.

Eddie tries hard to hide his laughter. It bubbles from his throat like sunshine, anyway.

[im-robins-bitch]

OH! MY! GOD! THIS!!! THISSSS!!!! I AM LOOSING MY MIND!!!

my Man in the (Penalty) Box is getting a rewrite and it’s expanding! Here are a few quick sketches of your Hawkins DemoDogs 🏒

[im-robins-bitch]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling??? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.