#Steve is exasperated and annoyed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

withmyloveasyourgarden · 6 months ago

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TO BE DRUNK AND IN LOVE

EDDIE MUNSON X F!READER.

Nervous Eddie, protective reader, and a drunk love confession. Idiots who are too dumb to realise their feelings are reciprocated. 9.4K of tooth rotting friends to lovers fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]

Even when it was Valentine's day it wasn’t all that surprising to open your door to a random knock and find Eddie Munson staring back at you.

He was your best friend after all.

What was surprising however, was to open your door at nearly midnight, bleary eyed and more than a little bit annoyed, to a sheepish looking Steve Harrington.

His usually perfect hair was in wild disarray from the winter winds still sweeping through Hawkins and there was a hesitant smile on his face, all boyish charm and sweetness, like he was already intent on persuading you to forgive him before you even knew why.

But then you had taken a closer look, letting the light from inside spill out onto the porch to reveal that Steve wasn’t alone. Appearing to be struggling with a rather drunk Eddie, arms straining, looped around the longer haired boy who instead of being on the ‘hot date’ he’d been rambling about having all week, was half asleep, swaying back and forth into his friend’s side.

"He called me to come get him but when I got there he wouldn’t stop asking for you.” Steve explained before you had the chance to ask, grumbling good naturedly. “Didn’t wanna drop him off home and risk him having the genius idea of trying to get here himself, s’that okay?”

You nodded in response, still a little confused but you couldn’t stop yourself from softening. Chest warming as you mumbled a quick ‘of course’ and tried to bite back the laugh that was threatening to bubble up at the way Eddie was trying to use Steve like some kind of pillow.

The wild mess of his curls spilling down to cover his face as his head fell to the other boy’s shoulder with a quiet groan, ringed fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s jumper and voice rough as he grumbled your name again, again, again.

"Yeah, she's here, man." Steve chuckled, his tone surprisingly gentle, a fond type of exasperated as he nudged his shoulder into the rosy squish of Eddie's cheek. "You wanna wake up now so you can actually see her?"

To your surprise he actually listened.

His head snapping up quicker than you anticipated, curls bouncing with the movement and brown eyes a touch glazed over, just that little bit unfocused, before they locked on you and then his mouth split into a blinding grin. The kind that made his whole face light up and your heart flip all too wild behind your ribs.

"There’s my pretty girl." He cooed loudly and you heard Steve snort, something that sounded an awful lot like ‘very smooth Munson, jesus christ’ muttered under his breath whilst he fought to remain upright against the weight of Eddie leaning his entire body in your direction.

You did laugh then.

A bright, flustered thing that you were unable to resist any longer, along with the way your arms opened on reflex to wrap around the boy when he finally managed to break free of his friend’s hold. His hands batting furiously at Steve’s as he twisted away, and only stumbled slightly in his determination to swoop you up into hug that was all leather, cheap beer and the smoky bite of whiskey - weed and the spice of his shampoo where his hair tickled at your nose.

"Hey sweets.” He whispered, humming happily as he pushed a messy kiss to your hairline.

God, why did that make you want to melt.

“Hey Eddie, you okay?” You asked softly, one hand rubbing gentle circles on his back and the other reaching up to cradle the back of his head.

It made him snuggle into you further, ducking down so he could press his face into the warm crook of your neck as his arms tightened and you prayed he was too drunk to notice the way your pulse thrummed faster when he spoke, soft lips brushing against sensitive skin.

"‘Am now.”

Tou froze for just a second, lips parted, blinking once, twice, just to make sure you had really heard what you thought you had and when it did fully register you wondered if the heat radiating off your cheeks was as obvious as it felt.

A quick glance at Steve told you it was.

Your friend was looking at you and Eddie all huddled together with an endless amount of amusement and affection, eyes twinkling as he grinned, shining like there was something he knew that you didn’t.

"Okay then, that’s good I guess,” You croaked out, voice a little too affected for your liking, coughing slightly in attempt to cover the sudden shyness you felt before you told the other boy. “I better get him to bed before he falls asleep standing up.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” He added, snorting at the ‘hey, screw you Harrington, it was one time’ that sounded from the metalhead still needily curling himself around you. “You need a hand hauling his ass upstairs?”

You considered it but then the poor Steve was desperately trying to fight a vicious yawn and failing, his eyes tired despite the way they crinkled as he smiled when you gave him a mothering look and made a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t still making gentle strokes down Eddie’s back.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him, go get some sleep, yeah? And thank you for bringing him.”

He hesitated but ultimately didn’t argue and you waved him goodbye as he drove away before shutting the door. Turning your full attention to your best friend who had slowly become suspiciously heavier, arms loosely folded around your waist and hands still, where only moments before they’d been trailing patterns along your spine.

"Eddie?”

Nothing.

“Eds?” You tried again and when there was no response a second time your eyes narrowed, suspicious.

The boy remained limp as your hands snuck past denim and leather, his breathing light and even whilst your fingers crept up his vest covered sides until you met torn fabric and then smooth, warm skin.

You let them rest there just a moment, waiting, and when he made no move to give up the pretence of sleep that you suspected, you dug them in a little firmer, tickling across his ribs until you heard a choked laugh and felt the stretch of his grin against your neck.

"Just let me sleep here, m’comfy.” He whined when you took to the task with more enthusiasm, snickering as he protested. But he was still laughing as he jerked and thrashed, dramatic as ever, and then threw himself out of your arms, cheeks flushed with it and dimples showing despite the glare he attempted to pin you with, snapping. “Fuckin’ devil woman, give me peace.”

There was no heat behind it and you smiled sweetly in return,reaching over to poke him in the cheek before pointing in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll give you peace Munson when you get your ass upstairs so we can go to bed.”

He raised his brows at the demand, dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Are you trying to seduce me sweetheart? Do I need to call Steve to come back and protect my virtue, save my poor innocent soul from being snatched by a temptress?” Eddie asked playfully, all faux horror and scandalised expression, a hand pressed to his heart as he choked down a bark of laughter at the way you stared at him, incredulous.

"Jesus christ.”

"No, I’m Eddie, remember? If you’re tryin’ to seduce a man at least get his name right, babe.”

You threw your arms up in the air, let out a long-suffering groan whilst the boy cackled and then you were marching towards him, fingers twisting in denim as you shoved him in front of you and walked him in the direction of the stairs and to your room.

"Shit, okay, I’m going.” He yelped, sniggering when he heard you grumbling behind him as he deliberately leaned his full weight back into the press of your hand and tsked, voice full of tease. “So fuckin’ pushy, you're lucky the whole bossy thing works on me.”

There was a familiar routine to the way you entered your bedroom, the kind that developed after countless nights of Eddie deciding it was too late to drive home despite the journey only being five minutes, of you both refusing to let the other take the couch that very first time until you eventually agreed, with shy smiles and faux nonchalant shrugs, that it was no big deal if you just shared the bed.

Friends totally did that, right?

It happened enough that he claimed a side and a drawer, that tapes and other trinkets of his littered the tops of your dressers, mixing with yours, and you’d even bought an ashtray and a spare lighter especially for the bedside table on his side.

And it happened enough for it to be second nature for Eddie to veer left and you right, clumsily kicking his shoes off before he fell into the bed with a contended groan and turning just time in to catch the old, faded sweats he left the last time he stayed that you threw before they could slap him in the face.

"You smell like a brewery Eds, don’t even think of getting in that bed until you’ve changed.”

"Mean.” He groaned but he hauled himself back up and did as you asked, shrugging off denim and leather in one go until all he was left in was tight, black jeans and a slashed up vest that showed more tattoos and bare skin than it possibly hid. His silver chain glinting prettily where it lay against his collarbones.

And oh fuck, you were staring.

Despite the fear that prickled at your skin at the thought of being caught, it felt impossible not to.

Because Eddie had always been far too pretty, a heartbreaking kind of gorgeous really, and if that wasn’t distracting enough, then the way his muscles moved as he yanked the vest over his head before dropping his hands to his belt certainly was.

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry when you realised your eyes had followed, fixed on the flex of his hands, and you couldn’t stop from wondering if they’d look just as perfect dragging up your bare waist, gripping at your thighs. Maybe circling your neck, cupping your chin, rings glittering in the low lamplight, before his lips descended on yours.

Jesus.

You wrenched your gaze away, fully intending it to land somewhere more decent. Somewhere that wasn’t your best friend and where it couldn’t ruin that easy bond you’d always had with the boy by giving all your secrets away.

But it felt like there was some kind of higher power at play, some hand of fate kind of bullshit that brought it straight back to Eddie, to his eyes that were already watching you, darker than usual and more than a little wild.

It made your breath catch in your chest. Cheeks flaming with heat, heart slamming against your ribs hard enough you thought your bones might shatter, and god, could he hear it?

You already knew by the look on his face that Eddie had seen every single second of your staring, that he’d been able to guess every little thought that swam through your mind and revealed themselves in the brief flash of want in your expression before you could shove it back down.

You just hadn’t noticed him doing the same.

Gaze lingering on his shirt that you were wrapped up in, the way the hem was as long as the length of your sleep shorts and made it seem like you were wearing nothing else, the way it made you look too soft, too enticing, too much like you were his and when his eyes flicked back up to yours he looked at you like you were something dangerous.

Like you were making him want something he shouldn’t ask for, or at least, didn’t think he could.

You licked your lips, a nervous sweep of your tongue as the air in the room seemed to thicken, and his gaze followed the movement hungrily as if he wished it was his mouth sliding over them instead.

But then the wind was howling, branches smacking and scraping at your window, the sound bringing reality crashing back in and making you both flinch.

Eddie’s cheeks were pink and his lips parted, a strangled noise slipping past them as he tried to speak and stumbled and suddenly you couldn’t look at him. Eyes snapping shut and mortification burning in your throat as you spun round before you could make an even bigger mistake than you already had, because what the hell were you doing?

What were you thinking?

This was Eddie.

Eddie, who you swore to never let your feelings for ruin your friendship.

Eddie, who you were convinced was still very much drunk and you very much weren’t.

It felt wrong.

It felt like you were begging to have your feelings hurt when the boy became clear headed enough to realise that the person he was looking at like he wanted to push them down onto the bed and devour, happened to be his best friend and inevitably freaked the fuck out.

He had just come back from a date with someone else after all, a date that he would have never thought to ask you on and despite the fact that you suspected it must not have gone well given his current state, it didn’t really make you feel any better or lessen the sting of jealousy that felt like barbed wire snaking through your ribs.

You continued to face the wall as he changed, cheeks still burning, stained with heat. But your gaze was unfocused as it flickered over lines of polaroids, fairy lights and old ticket stubs that you’d refused to throw away and used as decoration, your mind far too aware of the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the chains on his jeans clinking quietly before the denim hit the floor with a soft thud.

The silence that spread through the room after felt overwhelming, like it amplified every little movement either one of you made, the breaths you both took that made your chests fall a little too quick, a little uneven still, and when Eddie finally cleared his throat you tensed at the way it broke the quiet so harshly it felt like he’d made the noise directly in your ear.

"It’s okay - if you wanna turn around now, I mean.” He muttered softly.

It still felt like too much to look at him.

Maybe even more now because all you could see out of the corner of your eye before you walked towards the little lamp on your desk was messy hair and bare skin, sweats slung low on his hips. Big, brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with you to meet their stare and melt back into your usual softness with him like nothing had happened.

You couldn’t.

Not yet.

So you flicked the light off whilst the boy sighed and slipped beneath the covers, shoving his face into a pillow that smelled faintly like you as he squeezed his eyes shut before they flashed open again when he heard your approaching footsteps.

Eddie swallowed as you drifted close, throat bobbing when the air between you seemed to hum again once there was less of it as you reached above him to draw the curtains tighter, knowing how much the boy hated any hint of sunlight first thing in the morning.

There were nerves all lit up inside him that he hadn’t been able to shake all night, fondness fizzing in his chest when he heard the sound of the unopened bottle of water you’d brought up for yourself being set down next to the pile of his rings. The rattle of painkillers being plucked from the draw following before you moved around the bed and pulled back the sheets to climb in beside him.

He couldn’t help but hate what felt like an ocean of cool sheets that you deliberately left between you.

Hated that you didn’t push into his side and press your legs to his to steal his heat like you usually did, hated the way you lay stiff with tension in your own bed, facing the ceiling he had helped you paint one summer instead of facing him like you would when you would whisper with him, nose to nose, until the sun came up.

And when you did finally turn, a soft frown on your face as you wriggled to find a more comfortable position, he hated that your eyes widened slightly with panic when you finally noticed he was watching you.

It made his brows pull together in a distressed frown - his throat tight with guilt when you quickly glanced down at your hands that were knotting in the bed sheets.

An anxious habit he despised being the cause of because god, the last thing Eddie had ever wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check.

For the longest time he looked at you like he wanted to say something, working his jaw like he wanted to address what had happened and apologise but couldn’t find the right words, his eyes soft and sad in the pale slip of moonlight from the window.

And then he seemed to think better of it.

You were caught off guard when he smiled instead. A soft grin that was all easy warmth and a touch playful as he reached to poke a finger to your cheek and whispered, “thanks for taking care of me, sweets.”

You huffed out a laugh like you couldn't help yourself and the boy took it as small progress when you visibly relaxed. Taking the opportunity to get more and more dramatic with his prodding and tickling until he could feel the way your body vibrated with the giggles bubbling up from your chest and you’d allowed yourself to sink fully into the bed, rolling closer as you tried to fend him off.

"Someone has to make sure you’ll be alive enough to take us for breakfast in the morning.” You whispered back sternly when your face re-emerged from its hiding place in the mattress.

But your smile was matching Eddie’s, growing wider when he caught the hand you tried to bat his away with and gently pinched at your fingers.

"So you’re only being nice so you can use me.” He gasped theatrically and propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at you, all over the top stricken expression as he stifled a laugh when you shoved your face into the pillow and groaned. “How could my best friend betray me like this?”

You turned your head back to face him, rolling your eyes before levelling him with a thoughtful stare. “I wouldn’t call it using,” you mused, slipping your arm under your pillow and beneath your head as you yawned, “more like cashing in straight away on a debt, y’know, since you woke me up in the middle of the night. Which, as my best friend, you’ll remember makes me very grumpy in the morning.”

Eddie nodded, bangs falling into his eyes as he did so. He was serious for all of a second before he let himself fall back into the mused sheet with a guilty grin, hair spilling everywhere and the movement making your body lean into the dip he created, suddenly closer to the boy than before.

"Touche.”

The word came out in a small huff that you felt it against your cheek, a soft thing that made your lashes flutter and when you glanced up at him you found him looking at you with gentle eyes, all brown sugar sweet and lovely as he smiled, full of affection.

It made the last of the left-over tension fizzle away, turning the air softer, warmer, as Eddie drew lines along your fingers with his own before he slotted them together.

You hadn’t even realised he was still holding your hand.

"You win, babe,” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear, his thumb rubbing slow against your skin, touch worshipful as he traced the faint scar on your hand that was proof monsters were never simply just part of stories, and if he noticed the way you inhaled a little shakily, well, he did his best not to show it.

“I’ll do anything you want, maybe take you to that bakery you like and buy you coffee so you’ll stop hissing at me and then so many of those cinnamon things that like that you’ll go into a sugar coma and I’ll have to carry you out.”

You snorted and Eddie beamed like he’d hit the jackpot, encouraged by the sound as he arched a brow like he was begging you to argue.

"Idon’t hiss.” You muttered petulantly, full of false indignation whilst you scrunched your nose to hide your grin and knocked your knee against his.

His gaze shone at you, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth in the dark, and when he managed to fend off your attack by hooking a leg over yours to trap it between his own, he continued with a teasing scoff.

“You do. You’re like some kind of rabid raccoon when you wake up, I’m lucky I still have both eyes and all my fingers.” He wiggled the ones resting snug around yours for emphasis and you snorted. “Now shut up, I’m trying to impress you with my plan to get back in your good graces.”

You huffed, too amused to be offended, and gestured with your linked hands as if to say ‘well go on then’

Okay, so after I’ve carried you out of the bakery, we’d go to the bookstore,” the boy told you, gaze knowing and smile a little smug when he noticed that he’d caught your attention despite the way you tried to hide it from him.

"Always a pretty foolproof plan - which one though?”

“Not the fancy one where the housewives hog the couches pretending to talk about their weekly book club read,” Eddie assured you, his voice dropping to a scandalised hush, the fingers that weren’t holding yours tugging at his curls to hide a salacious grin as he whispered, “when instead they’re bitching about how their husbands don’t satisfy them anymore and how they’ve had to resort to fucking the pool boy so they can feel young again.”

"Of course,” You choked on a laugh, a startled, delighted sound that made Eddie’s heart stutter and his chest ache with warmth. “Can’t have them cheapening the wholesome moment when I’m overcome with the joy of being surrounded by books and finally forgive you.”

"Exactly.” He replied sagely. “So we’re gonna go to that one near Oak instead with the shit ton of stacks everywhere that threaten to fall and crush you if you breathe near them. Works better in my favour if I get to save you from a gruesome death.”

You nodded, only looking half as serious as Eddie thanks to the way you could barely stop the threat of giggles rising in your throat. “I get it, totally get extra brownie points for a hero moment.”

"Right? And then maybe I’ll get you one of the books you stare at all longingly everytime we go in 'cause for some reason you act like it’s a fuckin’ crime to treat yourself once in a while-”

"-I do not! I just have other things that kind of have to take priority, y’know like bills and stuff. ”

"Same thing.” Eddie dismissed, but his voice was softly teasing and his gaze understanding as he fingers tapped a random beat against your hand. “Anyway, after that we’ll rent some movies and get some snacks, maybe horrors so I can be all charming and let you hold my hand when it gets scary, we’ll get pizza for dinner and by the end of it you’ll have totally forgot that I crashed your romantic night with yourself and ruined your sleep.”

You stared at him. “And that’s all it’s gonna take, huh?”

"Don’t pretend you’re not impressed, sweetheart.” He grinned knowingly, looking too proud of himself as his hand slipped out of yours to prod a finger to where your cheeks were appled, aching from smiling far too long.

He wished he could kiss them instead, brush his lips over the pretty flush that bloomed after his touch made you realise you never really had stopped smiling from the moment he started speaking. “Look at you, just dyin’ to forgive me right now, I can tell.”

You hated that he was right.

Not about you dying to forgive him now, because the truth was Eddie hadn’t actually done anything to need forgiveness, no, it was the fact that if you were ever genuinely mad and the boy did all that for you, you knew in your bones you would fold in a pathetic, lovesick heartbeat.

It was the fact that Eddie knew it too, he just hadn’t figured out why.

Yet.

So you swatted at him once again and tried to discreetly shuffle back whilst he was distracted threatening to snap his teeth down on your fingers.

You were praying for some distance, needed it so you could breathe without the scent of him making you feel weak, so you could hide in the dark for the moment it would take to stop looking at him like he’d shoved his hand inside your chest, wrapped long fingers around your heart and slipped it out to put it where it belonged. With him.

But your legs were still tangled with Eddie’s and your body was against you when he clamped his legs down to stop you from slipping away. Turned traitor by the feel of soft fleece pressing to your bare calves, the muscles of his arms flexing when he threw one over your waist and pushed the other one beneath you to roll you on top of him.

His biceps were warm where you caught at him with your hands to steady yourself and as he shifted a little higher up the pillow, stretching until he found himself comfortable, you cursed the warmth it spread through your belly.

"See, you can’t even deny it can you?” Eddie prompted and you felt it rumble from his chest to your own, chin dipped to peer down at you and cheeks dimpling as his grin turned smug. Unbelievably delighted that you had yet to refute him.

You wrinkled your nose when he tapped a finger there, if only to hide the shock that lingered on your face, the way you felt flushed all over because there was no part of you that wasn’t touching him and jesus christ, it felt like his hands resting on your sides were burning through the thin material of your shirt, threatening to brand the skin beneath.

“What, no– I mean yes– I mean, shit, you know what I mean asshole” You finished with a scowl and prayed your rambling had sounded less frantic to Eddie than it had to your own ears, though judging by the way he arched a brow at you, gaze dancing with withheld laughter, you would guess you had failed there too.

'Uh huh, but feel free to keep tryin’ to enlighten me anyway.”

"I was just wondering,” you began, all false confidence just to hide the fact you were still unsure of where you were going with it. Stalling just a little because it was hard to remember what you had been wondering before he had decided to use you as a blanket, your chest now lying atop his abdomen, stomach resting against his hips and legs cradled between his own.

You let go of his arms to fold your hands at the centre of his chest, settling your chin there, and his eyes softened as they roamed your face, waiting for you to continue. “Okay, so how does it make sense that you can pull off something like that and yet you’re here with me, drunk, instead of on your date swooning the hell out of Sarah?”

"Sam.”

“Same thing.”

“Not even close, sweetheart.”

“At least I got the first two letters right, unlike you with the last guy I dated.” You shot back.

Eddie shrugged. “He looked like a Danny.” He defended mildly but his gaze was playful, bottom lip tucked between his teeth to hold back the laugh threatening to escape when you threw a death glare his way.

“His name was Matthew.” You deadpanned and the boy snorted, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture when it looked like you might rip the pillow from beneath his head and smother him with it.

But then you were shaking your head instead, an accusatory finger jabbed to his chest and you rolled your eyes when he frowned and muttered a petulant ‘ow’.

“Hang on, why are we even arguing this again? Answer the question Munson - did you try to take her to skull rock again? ‘Cause I don’t give a damn what Steve says, just because you take a fucking picnic it doesn’t suddenly make a make out spot romantic”

He made a disturbed noise and shook his head but you didn’t miss the way his face fell a little at you bringing up the date again, smile half-hearted at best, and even the dark couldn’t hide the way his eyes had dimmed. His thumbs that had been dragging small, steady circles over the sides of your ribs faltering as he dropped his gaze from yours.

It made you gentle - the sense of protectiveness that tightened your chest and urged you to shuffle your way up his body until you were seated in his lap, knees dragging the sheets askew. Fingers finding their way to his chin to bring his stare back to you and you were too focused on your worry to register the way it made his lashes flutter, eyes hooded and lips parted, breath hitching at the gesture.

"Hey - did something happen tonight? Is that why you came back in such a state?” You murmured, eyes flicking between his, searching, before your tone suddenly grew sharp and your hand fell flat against his chest. “Was she a dick to you - I swear to god if she was I’ll get dressed right now and–”

You were cut off by Eddie’s hand descending over yours, the other landing on the thigh that you had already raised to clamber off him, squeezing the flesh softly, drawing it back down, and the fight left you just as fast as it had appeared when he chuckled, his voice smudged with fondness, awe, a hint of pride.

“Okay, reign it in Rocky, nothin’ bad happened I promise, you don’t need to go runnin’ off into the night to defend my honour.”

But god, he wanted to kiss you for trying to.

He settled for watching you watch him instead, your frown of concern that he itched to smooth away with his thumb still present before you eventually nodded, only slightly pacified when you had found no sign of a lie in the way he met your gaze.

And Eddie knew it was foolish to hope that was the end of it, knew the expression on your face all too well despite the way it flickered sweet just for a moment, just for him, as he released your hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

So it came as no surprise to the boy when you seemed to be considering your next words as you tilted your head, whether to deliberately lean into his touch or just a habit whilst you thought he wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was both, either way when your hand followed his seconds after he had let it go to clasp gently at his wrist, his heart spasmed despite knowing what was coming.

"There was something though, wasn’t there? You stated but you were quiet in how you spoke, gentle, trying to make sure Eddie knew he wasn’t being pushed, that you were only concerned, and everything about it made him ache. His thoughts going a cotton-wool kind of hazy that he wasn’t convinced he could blame on the alcohol anymore.

He let his thumb brush the downturned corner of your lips, a brief second of indulgence before he pressed up, moulding your mouth into a smile until he spied it becoming a real one, the kind that would have had Eddie dropping to his knees if he’d been standing, as you knocked his hand away.

He tapped at your legs then, drumming lightly at the creases of your knees and up the backs of your thighs, making you twitch.

You got the hint though, rising off him just enough for him to push himself up and then back, leaning against the pillows before he held out his hands for you to take so you could climb back into his lap.

It felt like his first mistake.

Or was it his second, after coming here in the first place? Third, after losing his head and nearly kissing you?

He’d lost count.

All he knew was that it was suddenly a little harder to breathe, that being this close didn’t feel as innocent as it had five minutes ago.

As it had all the other times you’d been tucked tight against him, sleepily whispering secrets until dawn broke and your head fell heavy against his shoulder, leaving Eddie to have to carefully roll you back on to the mattress so you didn’t wake up stiff and sore.

Your hands were soft on his stomach, forcing the boy to fight off a shudder every time you traced the dark lines of another tattoo, jaw slack as he watched every little movement of your fingers with rapt attention, only realising he’d been repeating each one with his own touch on your thighs when he felt the brush of soft fabric against his fingertips.

It took Eddie a second to tear his eyes away from the sight, to meet your gaze with pink cheeks and lips almost bitten raw and find that you had swayed closer.

Close enough so that he could map each little freckle that made up constellations on your cheeks in the moonlight that slanted over your features, noses only inches apart and he swallowed down a choked curse when he remembered you were probably still expecting an answer.

He licked his lips, unsure of how much he could give away, and shrugged, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. "S’really nothin’ for you to worry about princess, the date was fine and she was… great - incredible actually - we just, uh, mutually decided there was a point in taking it past a one time thing.”

The silence stretched long enough that Eddie wondered if he was maybe more wasted than he'd thought. He must have been if the question of whether telling you the truth was really as bad as he'd feared was nudging at his brain, the consequences seeming a lot less daunting the longer allowed himself to consider it.

Because there you were, looking at him with the prettiest confused expression he'd ever seen and all of a sudden it felt like the worst crime in the world to lie to you. That you deserved more than the way he'd been continuously lying to you for years and if there was the slightest chance - which sometimes he thought there were signs there could be - that you wanted him to be the one who gave you more, then he had to take it, right?

"I don't understand,” you said slowly, face scrunched like you were trying to figure out if you missed something somewhere in his explanation, like you were trying to hide how the boy calling Sarah - Sam - whatever her name was - incredible in a dazed voice had made your stomach twist. "If she was so amazing and the date was a hit, why wouldn't you want to see her again?"

"Well turns out no matter how awesome a girl is, she doesn't really wanna waste time trying to date someone who's in love with someone else.”

"Makes sense-" you shrugged, and then it sunk in what he had said. "-no, wait, hang on - what?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shaky, a little rough, and despite the easy grin he tried to offer, there was an undeniable bloom of nervousness unfurling in his eyes, “crazy right? I mean I expected her to leave when she figured it out but then she stayed and even tried giving me advice, which maybe me taking wasn't the best decision 'cause it involved some liquid courage and telling the girl how I feel but I kinda took the first part too far, which is how I ended up like this– ”

He gestured wildly to himself and when his hands dropped back to rest on your bare thighs it took all you had not to flinch. Your brain felt fuzzy, chest too tight, and suddenly every part of your body that was pressed to his felt like it was in agony. A new kind of torture.

Eddie was in love with someone else.

And he hadn't even told you.

"Eddie–” you murmured weakly, because christ , he was still talking and you just really needed him to stop .

"-she originally offered to help make her jealous, which was fuckin' insane , I thought that shit only happened in movies. I gave it a hard pass cause it seemed sleazy, like a total dick move, y'know. Didn’t seem right to mess with her like that and I don't think I even could if my life depended on it-”

Fuck, this hurt worse than you had ever imagined. A dagger shoved deep between your ribs with every word, twisting until you thought you’d be sick with it.

'Eddie.” You repeated, only a little stronger this time. but to your horror, you could hear the painful edge that made your voice shake.

You wanted to slam a hand over his mouth.

You wanted to crawl as far away from his touch as you possibly could.

And yet you were painfully still.

A statue in Eddie’s lap, turned to stone like those poor souls you’d read about in a mythology book when you were a kid except here there was no terrifying creature to blame, just your best friend who was breaking your heart without even realising.

Oblivious to a tear that welled and spilled over your lash line, dripping onto the shirt that you were suddenly wishing wasn’t his as he pressed on.

God, you felt pathetic.

"Felt wrong just thinking about it,” He rushed out and maybe if you weren’t so upset you would have put it together. The way he was rambling like he couldn’t speak quick enough, like he would lose his nerve if he didn't, lungs burning and eyes darting over your face, anxious, as if his heart would give out if he looked away for even a second. Fingers tapping too quick on your thighs. “Touching someone, kissing them, loving them, even if it’s pretend, shit I can’t even remember the last time I thought of doin’ those kind of things with anyone else that wasn’t-”

“Wasn’t her,” You interrupted, head ducked to hide your embarrassment when the words slipped out scathing, a little more heated than you intended. The burn behind your eyes grew stronger as you tried to climb off him, numb fingers clumsy, grappling for purchase on his stomach so you could push yourself away. “I get it Eddie, fuck-”

He stopped you with hesitant hands wrapping around your wrists, squeezing soft when you didn’t immediately try to yank yourself out of his hold, drawing them to his chest in a plea for you to look at him and listen.

"-you.”

You froze, head snapping up to stare at the boy in disbelief, utterly stunned. Your heart spasming before it began to pound so hard you thought it would splinter bones as you tried to figure out if you had heard him right, if he had said what you thought he had, if you dared to ask him to repeat himself just in case he had.

It felt like the world had slowed for a moment, like it was trying to give you a chance to push past the rush of blood in your ears that was drowning your ability to think straight, to decide whether Eddie had misspoken or not and if he hadn't, did that mean it was finally time for you to stop hiding.

Did you even know how?

The answer came when the winds outside grew into a storm. The patpatpat of rain on the roof coming slowly at first and then all at once and each knock of a branch at your window sounded like the tick of a clock as the silence between you rolled on too long. It felt like a countdown, a warning that if you weren’t going to be brave now, you wouldn’t get the chance again.

So you fought the urge to rip yourself away, lowered yourself gingerly back down onto his thighs whilst Eddie watched you with wide eyes, a little hopeful, a little terrified, a little too aware that any wrong move could make you run for real next time. “Did you– what did you just say?”

"Wasn’t you.” He whispered and neither of you could take your eyes off the other, your own breath trapped in your chest as he took a deep breath before he continued. Voice growing braver like it was an obvious truth he was telling you and not one that felt like a bomb being dropped on your head. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since I realised I was in love with you.”

You inhaled sharply, a small noise slipping from your throat that you couldn’t stop if you tried.

You wanted to ask him to say it again, you wanted to kiss the words from his mouth as he said them, you wanted to say it back, murmur it over and over into him until you were dizzy from lack of oxygen but you couldn’t. Because there were tears in your eyes and your throat, your lungs, were refusing to work, every part of your body suddenly paralysed whilst your heart tumbled wild behind your ribs.

Eddie licked his lips, parted and closed them again as tried to organise the mess of his thoughts into words.

He sat up and pulled you closer until your hips were flush, your thighs caged around his as he gently ran his thumbs up over the soft part of your wrists where your pulse hammered against the skin and you wondered if it was a gesture meant to soothe you or him.

If it was maybe for both of you.

A way to encourage you to touch him in whatever way you needed whilst he did the same, preparing himself to give a confession that he never thought he would get a chance to, that he hoped you would understand.

"I only asked Sam out because I thought you were never gonna feel the same and I just needed to get over it, ” He sighed, cheeks pink as he nervously analysed your expression from beneath his lashes. “Turns out she knew all along, figured out I was gonner that night at the hideout when you made me sing fuckin’ Bon Jovi.”

He said it teasingly, all false betrayal and shining eyes like you’d made him commit the worst kind of crime, like he was so in love with you that he’d sing that fucking song until his throat was raw if you asked again.

You let out a watery laugh and Eddie beamed at the sound.

His gaze lovely as it roamed your face, endlessly adoring when you swiped at a falling tear with the heel of your palm and melted because the boy had caught your hand in his before you could drop it, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss away the salt on your skin with a sweet tsk, voice like honey as he murmured, ‘c’mon, pretty girl, please don’t cry’.

"I couldn’t even deny it when she brought it up, y’know,” he chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead to yours, noses grazing until you sighed happily for him. “She wasn’t mad either, just told me I needed to grow a pair and tell you how I felt before someone else did, but it was like she’d fuckin’ me in punched me in the face. All I could think was, ‘shit, she’s right, what the hell am I doing’ .”

And then his smile faltered. His stare flickering away from yours like he was ashamed, lips twisting into a grimace, voice strained as his hands slid down your arms and dropped to the hem of your shirt to twist the material in his fingers.

"Thing is, it sounded like the easiest thing in the world when she said it, but then I was about to leave and it suddenly felt terrifying and the idea of calming my nerves with a drink didn’t sound like the dumbest one I’ve ever had.” Eddie admitted, closing his eyes briefly and when he opened them again the disappointment in them made your heart ache.

“Not until I started hesitating the longer I was there anyway, overthinking and talking myself out of it, and then before I knew it I was wasted and I’d fucked up another chance to tell you. So I called Harrington instead, though I guess that kind of backfired too, huh?”

He was making it sound like it was all his fault that this had gone on so long but god, you knew what your own fear felt like. The things you told yourself daily to stop you from taking that plunge.

Had you both been using the same insecurities to hold yourselves back all this time?

"What were you so scared of? ” You coaxed softly, pressing a hand over the place where his heart thumped beneath the skin, fingertips toying with the chain that hung around his neck and when you’re other hand smoothed it’s way up to his jaw, thumb gliding along the edge of it, the boy leaned into your touch like he was starved for it. A ragged sigh slipping past his lips as his lashes fluttered.

"Messing everything up.” He explained quietly and the crack in his voice made you want to wrap your arms around him and smother him in affection. Refuse to let him go or ever doubt himself again. “Losing you. I didn’t know if you’d hate me for making things awkward if you didn’t feel the same and I couldn’t handle the thought of not having you in my life.”

"You could never do anything to make me not be in your life Eddie,” you told him, and if your words were soft then the look in your eyes was even softer. Lips pulling into a warm smile that he swore was pure light as your hand left his chest to tug teasingly at one of his curls. “Even if it’s something like turning up at my door, half gone, smelling like you’ve been dunked in whiskey, to tell me something that I’ve been waiting a hell of a long time to hear from you.”

Eddie melted for you then.

“Yeah?” He breathed, his own grin blinding as his hands nudged their way beneath your shirt to curve around your bare sides, seeking out the warmth of you to ground himself because he could have sworn he was dreaming.

"Yeah.”

“Well shit, sweetheart,” he huffed out a soft laugh, a little giddy with relief, more drunk on you than whatever alcohol was left in his system. “If I’d known that I would have made Stevie boy haul my drunk ass over here a lot sooner. You have any idea how long I’ve had to suffer mourning about my feelings to him after one of his house parties for him to just tell me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep?”

Probably the same amount of time you’d endured Robin telling you to get a grip.

"No, but I’m sure Steve would gladly tell me if I asked,” you answered cheekily instead, letting out a terrible shriek of a laugh when the boy tickled your ribs and muttered that you better not dare.

It made him grin all stupid and lovesick, even more so when you bumped your nose against his and looked at him a little shy, a little hopeful as you asked, “Though maybe you could try voicing some of those feelings without the alcohol, y’know, just so I know they’re not a result of your brain being fried and so that when I say them back, you actually have a chance of remembering it in the morning.”

Eddie was enthusiastically nodding before you could finish, a brightness unfurling in his chest like the flowers that had snaked around his ribs when he met you were now opening up, blooming with what he felt for you. What you felt for him back. “Yeah, fuck, I can do that,” he murmured. “Anything you want.”

You were beaming, and if he could bottle the way it made him feel he would. Gone for the way you melted for him when he slipped a hand from beneath your shirt, dragging it slow up your spine until his palm was fitting itself around the back of your neck, just so he could feel you this close. Just because he could.

"Anything?” You repeated coyly, smiling when he sighed real pretty as you brushed some of his curls back.

“Anything.”

"You gonna take me on a date Munson?”

As if he was going to say no to you. Like he ever could.

He’d bring you the damn moon if you wanted it. The stars too because he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to you.

He pressed his nose to your cheek to hide the dopey grin that tugged at his lips, humming. “Mhm, how does tomorrow sound? Maybe upgrade our plans from grovelling duty to first date?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you pondered, eyes fluttering shut with a smile, content to tease the boy by pretending to think about it as you tilted your head back for him when he pushed his face into your neck with an amused huff. “I kind of liked the idea of you grovelling all day and the plans you made were pretty tempting. What will the upgrade entail if I agree?”

“Same plans, I’d just get to keep touching you like this, hold you whenever I wanted, whenever you wanted me to.” He murmured, lips catching at your skin as he spoke, the hand that was clamped around your waist tightening when you shivered as he drew a line with his nose up to your jaw. “Maybe walk around with my hand in your back pocket the way I know you think is real cute. Use it to pull you in for a kiss when you’re looking far too pretty to be real, which is fuckin’ always, and I feel like m’gonna die if I don’t.”

Your chest hitched, lips parted and body feeling a touch too warm, because the thought of Eddie kissing you all greedy, a little too desperate to give a damn about where you were or who was around, was suddenly so consuming. Leaving you dizzy enough that you had to clutch at his shoulders, his neck, curling your fingers around his chain to keep yourself seated instead of falling back into the cushions and pulling him down with you. “Oh.” You breathed out.

He swallowed, hard.

And when he lifted his head his eyes were half-lidded, almost black beneath the heavy fan of his lashes, voice a low rasp that made you burn as his gaze flickered from your mouth to settle on yours. “Yeah, oh. ”

"How am I supposed to say no to that?”

His lips twitched. “Now you know how it feels when you ask me for anything.” He whispered hoarsely and you wondered if he could hear the chaotic hammering of your heart, if he could feel the vibration of it slamming into your ribs against his own.

The air between you was buzzing, electric, bloated with anticipation when the last couple of inches fell away as his face leaned closer to yours, mouth hovering over your own. his breath warm and smelling of smoke and whiskey, a hint of mint as he said your name, sticky sweet with heat and a longing kind of need.

He drew lazy circles under your ear with his thumb and it took everything you had not to let the pleading noise building in your throat escape.

"Yeah, Eddie?” You asked instead, so quiet that had he not been right there, you doubt he would have heard you at all.

You knew he had though when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a nervous gesture just like the way your fingers couldn’t stop their movements, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck and making him shudder.

"Can I kiss you now?”

It already felt like he was.

His mouth brushing yours as he spoke, each word the ghost of a kiss, a brief taste of the real thing that you were sure would shatter you entirely because jesus christ, this alone was making you feel like there were fireworks beneath your skin. The way your bottom lip caught between his stole your breath, a cracked noise bubbling up in your throat that Eddie inhaled and echoed back with a groan when you tilted your head and pushed your lips to his.

It was a fleeting thing, ending after a second because your brain had caught up and was telling you this wasn’t right. Not that kissing Eddie wasn’t right, it felt like the most natural thing you’d ever done, like you’d found a piece of yourself you hadn’t realised you were missing.

It was just the timing.

“Wait…” You murmured and Eddie drew back immediately, the hand that had been clasped around your neck pulling back to tuck your hair behind your ear, cupping your jaw as his worried gaze flicked over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort he might have caused.

"Shit, I’m sorry.” He said gently, thick with guilt, full of concern. “Was it too soon? I swear I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything, fuck, sweetheart, I’d never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable y’know that right? And if I do by accident I want you to tell me or hell, punch me or something- ”

“-No, no, it’s okay Eds - Eddie listen, I’m not gonna hit you, jesus - I just,” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough for the way the look on his face was making your chest squeeze. Your hands flew to his face as you shook your head, stroking your thumbs over the arc of his cheekbones to quiet him whilst you gave him a reassuring smile. “I just don’t want our first real kiss to be when one of us is drunk, that's all. Is that okay?”

He blew out a breath, visibly softening, and then he was wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your nose, your cheeks, your forehead until you were both grinning, laughter still echoing above the sounds of the storm outside when he touched his forehead to yours. “Baby, of course it’s okay,” he murmured, “you just say the word, I’ll kiss you whenever you want me too.”

His words lit you up, warmth spreading through you until you were giddy with it. So full of affection for the boy that you thought you’d burst and it must have been contagious because Eddie was looking at you like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

"Kiss me tomorrow?” You whispered, unable to bite back your grin as you brushed your nose against his. “When I first wake up so I don’t think I’ve dreamed this whole thing?”

Eddie’s eyes shone and he squeezed you a little tighter, his smile becoming devastatingly lovely, stretching wide across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

And he did.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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livwritesstuff · 10 months ago

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i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

EDIT: read the expanded fic on AO3 :)

#idk maybe this is pre-season 3. maybe it’s a no-upside down au. who knows #might expand this and post on ao3 later if i’m feeling it #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #jim hopper #steve jim father-son relationship my beloved

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allthingssteddie · 3 months ago

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Steve Harrington's room was a shrine to Corroded Coffin, with posters plastered on every inch of his wall. His friends had grown accustomed to his obsession, but even they had limits. "Dingus, we get it. You love Corroded Coffin. Can we please talk about something else?" Robin would say, exasperated.

But Steve couldn't help himself. He had discovered the band through Dustin, who had introduced him to their music as a way to rebel against his parents. At first, Steve had played their songs loudly, just to annoy his mom and dad. But as he delved deeper into their music, he became genuinely obsessed.

Eddie Munson's raw voice spoke to Steve on a deep level. He loved how the lead singer's lyrics seemed to capture how he felt. Steve felt seen and heard through Eddie's music, and he couldn't get enough of it.

As he lay in bed, surrounded by his Corroded Coffin posters, Steve would often find himself dreaming of Eddie. He'd imagine what it would be like to meet the lead singer, to talk to him about music and life and everything in between. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, Steve had even vowed to one day marry Eddie Munson. It was a crazy, impossible dream, but Steve couldn't help the way he felt.

On his 19th birthday Robin surprised Steve with tickets to Corroded Coffin's concert, and Steve was ecstatic. But what he didn't know was that Robin had also arranged for a backstage meet and greet with the whole band.

As they made their way backstage, Steve's nerves started to get the better of him. Eddie was smiling and chatting with fans. Steve was so nervous he was shaking. Robin just smiled and grabbed Steve's hand, leading him to the table where the band was sitting. Eddie looked up and smiled at Steve.

The only thing Steve could manage to say was, "Marry me?" The rest of the band members giggled at the sudden proposal.

Eddie's smile grew wider, and he looked at Steve with a serious expression. "Okay," he said, "I'll marry you."

“Wait what?”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fandom #steddie prompt #steddie idea #corroded coffin #steve harrington has a crush #famous eddie munson

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yeahiveheardofbears-fics · 15 days ago

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Behind the Beaded Curtain

When you and Steve get stuck closing Family Video together, the usual banter takes a turn toward mischief—and maybe something more—when an empty store and a cart of VHS tapes lead to some questionable decisions. Between late-night chaos, awkward tension, and way too many adult films, Steve might finally figure out that sometimes, taking a chance is worth the risk.

hi guys! here's a little smut oneshot to hold you over till I post the next fic in my rewrite series! There is no use of Y/N and the 'you' mentioned is fem. I loosely based it off of my OC, Mac, but I tried not to be super descriptive so the X Reader girlies can get a little more immersed. This was just an idea that didn't make sense for my main fic, so i decided to write it as a oneshot. I'm goign to try and post my oneshots on this page as well as ao3! comments encouraged and I hope you enjoy.

enemies to friends to lovers, semi public sex, confressions, idiots in love word count: 13,619 TW: talk of porn, sex at work, body confidence issues, uh idk they fuck so if you don't like that i guess don't read it

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLZ MESSAGE ME CAUSE I NEED INSPO <3

fic masterlist

read on ao3 or read below the cut:

The bell above the Family Video door jingled weakly, signaling the entrance of a customer. You leaned against the shelf you were restocking, the rough cardboard edges of a VHS cover pressed into your palm, watching Steve Harrington prop his feet up on the counter like he owned the place. His uniform vest clashing with his shirt, collar slightly rumpled, and his hair—perfect as ever—caught the light just so. You hated that he looked like he belonged in one of the cheesy rom-coms he was so bad at recommending to customers.

“Don’t strain yourself,” you called, sliding a copy of A Nightmare on Elm Street onto the shelf. “Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle working too hard.”

Steve lazily swiveled the stool he was perched on, an easy grin spreading across his face. “It’s called delegating. You’re the one who offered to restock.”

You raised a brow, slapping another tape onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary. “You mean when you handed me the cart and said, ‘You’re better at this, anyway’? Yeah, real great teamwork.”

Robin appeared from one of the aisles, dragging a broom behind her and looking thoroughly unimpressed with both of you. “You know, it’s amazing you haven’t driven each other insane yet. You’re like two stray cats fighting over the same dumpster.”

Steve shot her an annoyed look, but you just smirked, leaning against the shelf with your arms crossed. “He’s not worth the energy,” you said, jerking your chin toward him. “I’d rather put my effort into alphabetizing the horror section for the third time this week.”

“Hey!” Steve pointed at you, his grin widening. “That’s because you have no taste. You keep shoving Gremlins into the comedy section.”

“It is a comedy,” you retorted, the hint of a challenge in your voice. “You’re the one who insists on putting it in horror.”

“Technically it’s a Christmas movie.” Robin interjected but you two were too into your usual banter to acknowledge her comment.

“It’s literally about monsters terrorizing a town,” he shot back, standing now, clearly ready for this argument.

“And it has a montage set to Christmas music,” you countered, stepping closer, refusing to back down. “Face it, Harrington. It’s a comedy, and your taste is basic.”

Robin watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, resting her chin on the end of the broom handle. “This is how wars start, you know. One second it’s Gremlins, next thing you know, someone’s annexing the drama section.”

Steve ignored her, crossing his arms as he stared you down, his brown eyes sparkling with exasperation. “Oh, I’m basic? Says the girl who has a Misfits patch on her backpack like every other kid trying too hard to look edgy.”

You scoffed, stepping closer until you were almost nose to nose. “You wouldn’t know edgy if it bit you in the ass, Harrington.”

For a second, the room felt charged, like something was about to snap. Then Robin cleared her throat dramatically, cutting through the tension. “Okay, you two, this isn’t a cage match. Save it for the Halloween crowd this weekend.”

You stepped back, rolling your eyes as you returned to your cart of tapes. “Fine. I’ll let him live another day.”

Steve plopped back onto his stool, muttering under his breath but loud enough for you to hear, “You wish you could take me.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, already halfway down the aisle. “It wouldn’t even be a contest.”

“You know, for someone who spends most of her time glaring at customers, you’ve got a lot to say.”

“Somebody has to keep you on your toes,” you shot back, brushing your hands off and making your way toward the front. You flicked a stray strand of hair out of your face as you passed him. “Besides, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t charm every poor soul who comes in here. It’s starting to get embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Steve feigned offense, placing a hand on his chest. “I’ll have you know, plenty of customers appreciate a little charisma. You could try it sometime.”

“Charisma doesn’t mean flirting with everyone who rents ‘Sixteen Candles,’ Harrington.”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, looking between the two of you. “I can’t decide if this is banter or foreplay, but either way, it’s exhausting.”

“Foreplay?” Steve sputtered, his cheeks flushing.

“God, no,” you said at the same time, shooting Robin a glare.

Robin laughed, leaning against the counter as Steve sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. Somewhere behind the banter, in the dim light and popcorn butter air, the faintest trace of something real hung between the two of you—something neither of you was ready to admit, least of all to each other.

---

The last few hours of your shift crawled along, with Robin having said her goodbyes twenty minutes earlier and left you and Steve to close up. A post-dinner rush had left the place in chaos, with empty shelves and a mountain of returns now sitting on the counter. Steve, standing at the rewinder machine, was absently humming to himself as you finished putting away the last of your cart.

“Finally done,” you muttered to yourself, dusting your hands off. Just as you started to roll the empty cart back toward the counter, Steve sauntered over with a fresh pile of tapes, all rewound and stacked precariously.

“Perfect timing,” he said, grinning as he plopped them onto the top of your cart. “More work for you.”

Your eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as you stared at the offending pile. “You’re kidding me.”

“What? That’s the system!” he said defensively, his hands going to his hips. It was a classic Harrington move—half annoyed, half clueless.

“Your system sucks,” you shot back, pulling the tapes off the top and setting them on the counter. “And you’re helping.”

“I am helping,” he argued, gesturing to the now-empty rewinder. “I rewound the tapes. That’s like, ninety percent of the job.”

You snorted, grabbing the cart handle with more force than necessary and turning it toward the aisles. “Whatever. I’ll do it myself.”

Halfway to the shelves, you paused, an idea sparking as you glanced back at Steve, who was still standing there with his hands on his hips. “Actually…” you said, setting the cart brake and turning to face him fully.

Steve tilted his head, suspicious. “What?”

“You’re an athlete, right?” you said, your tone dripping with exaggerated innocence. “Former Mr. Cool Guy?”

He frowned. “I don’t like where this is going.”

You grinned, hoisting yourself onto the cart and sitting cross-legged on its flat surface, tapping the metal sides. “Put those skills to use and make this less boring. You push, I steer. I’ll call out the titles; you take me to the aisles.”

Steve’s mouth fell open, his brow furrowing. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“This is dumb,” he said, shaking his head. “What if someone comes in?”

You leaned back, gesturing toward the door with a dramatic flourish. “Steve, it’s Wednesday. It’s 7 p.m. The only person walking through that door is someone too embarrassed to rent their adult movie during daylight hours. And if that happens, do you really want to help them?”

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed, throwing his hands up. “Fine. But if you fall off, I’m not taking you to the hospital.”

“Noted,” you said, grinning victoriously. “ I always wanted to bleed out in the comedy section anyway.”

With a reluctant groan, Steve walked around the cart and grabbed the handle. “What’s first?”

You picked up the first tape from the stack beside you, holding it up to squint at the title. “Raiders of the Lost Ark. Action-adventure, aisle three.”

“Roger that,” Steve said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he started to push the cart. It wobbled slightly, and you leaned forward to steady yourself, already laughing as he picked up speed.

“Faster, Harrington!” you called, pointing toward the aisle like you were commanding a ship. “Aisle three awaits!”

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. He slowed as you neared the correct aisle, and you held the tape out dramatically, like a torch.

“Here we are!” you declared. “Place the artifact on its rightful throne.”

Steve grabbed the tape from your hand, muttering something about your flair for the dramatic as he slid it onto the shelf. When he turned back to you, you were already holding up the next tape.

“Ready for the next one?” you asked, wiggling the VHS case.

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh but grabbed the cart handle again, a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is going to be the longest close ever.”

“Yeah, but you’re having fun,” you teased.

He didn’t respond, but the way his lips twitched into a full smile as he started pushing again gave you all the answer you needed.

Steve pushed the cart into the Drama aisle, his grip on the handle loose as he rolled his eyes at your smug expression. You waved The Breakfast Club over your head like a trophy, already looking triumphant.

“Drama section, as requested,” he said, stopping with a slight flourish. “But I’m just saying… it could also go in Romance.”

You nearly fell off the cart from how hard you laughed. “Romance? That’s what you got out of it? You think it’s about Claire and Bender hooking up?”

Steve raised a brow, his hands moving to his hips in that classic, I’m about to defend myself stance. “What? No, that’s not all it’s about. But it is a part of it. Opposites attract, right?”

You tilted your head, grinning like you’d just been handed the perfect opportunity to roast him. “Oh, sure. Opposites attract. That’s definitely a trope worth rooting for,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Especially when it’s just code for ‘the weird girl has to completely change herself to be worth the jock’s attention.’”

Steve frowned, clearly thrown off. “You’re talking about the makeover thing?”

“Obviously,” you said, flopping dramatically against the back of the cart, the metal sides rattling under your weight. “She was perfectly fine as she was—better, even. Then suddenly she gets some preppy glow-up, and boom, Emilio Estevez notices her. It’s such crap.”

He was quiet for a beat, like he was actually chewing on your words. His lips pressed into a line, and then, unexpectedly, he nodded. “I mean… I agree with you. She looked out of place like that. It wasn’t really her.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “Wait… you agree with me?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, shrugging. “I mean, she didn’t need all that. She was cooler before.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip. His tone wasn’t teasing or defensive—it was sincere. He looked at you with this genuine expression, like he actually cared about what you thought. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and the quiet made your skin prickle in a way you weren’t used to.

Then Steve broke the tension with a smirk, shifting back to lean casually against the handle of the cart. “So, what I’m hearing is… you must hate Grease too, huh? Sandy changes everything for Danny at the end. That must drive you nuts.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sitting up straighter and gripping the sides of the cart like you were preparing for battle. “Oh, don’t get me started on Grease, Harrington.”

His grin widened, and he gestured with one hand for you to continue, clearly enjoying this way too much. “By all means, let it out. This should be good.”

You took a deep breath, ready to launch into a full tirade about the crime that was Sandy’s transformation, while Steve leaned against the cart, laughing softly under his breath before you’d even said a word.

---

Steve jiggled the lock on the front doors, pulling them to test if they were secure before flipping off the outside lights. The neon "OPEN" sign fizzled out with a soft hum, leaving the store bathed in the sterile glow of its overhead fluorescents. He sighed as he turned the "CLOSED" sign around and shot a glance your way.

You were standing at the counter, finishing up the register deposit you’d started early since the rush had ended hours ago. You hummed quietly to yourself, seemingly in a good mood, which was rare for a late-night shift.

“Got any costume ideas for Halloween?” you asked as you counted the last stack of bills. “Since we get to dress up here and all.”

Steve leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Robin and I are going as pirates,” he said, his voice flat. “Her idea.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let me guess. She’s all excited, and you’re just going along with it because you have no spine?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, though there was a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She’s got this whole ‘Captain Robin and First Mate Dingus’ bit planned. It’s exhausting.”

You snorted, finishing the deposit and closing the register drawer. “Well, I’m going as a devil. Simple, classic, but I gotta tone it down a little so Keith doesn’t spend the entire shift staring at my chest.”

Steve went stiff for a moment, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

“What?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, straightening. “So, uh, are you done with that?”

“Just about,” you said, locking the deposit bag and setting it aside for the morning shift. Your eyes drifted to the cart in the middle of the store, still loaded with a few stray tapes. “Looks like we’re not done with that, though.”

Steve followed your gaze and sighed. “Oh, great. More cart rides.”

You grinned, hopping back onto the cart and gesturing for him to take the handle. “You’re the one who insisted on delegating, remember? Now push.”

With another sigh—this one more dramatic than the first—Steve complied, wheeling you toward the horror section. You rifled through the tapes on the cart, calling out titles as he brought you to the correct spots. It went smoothly until you reached for the next tape and froze, reading the title aloud before you could stop yourself.

“Blondes in Heat?” you said, eyebrows shooting up. Your gaze darted to the rest of the tapes on the cart. “Oh, no.”

Steve groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Yeah, I’ll take care of those.”

You shook your head, holding up the tape with a smirk. “It’s fine, I can do it.”

“Seriously,” Steve said, his tone a little sharper. “I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, shrugging. “I’ve seen porn before, Steve.”

His eyes widened, and he stumbled over his words for a second before recovering. “What—you—you’ve—okay, I mean—”

“Relax, Harrington,” you said, clearly amused at his reaction. “You’re not the only person in Hawkins with a VHS player and curiosity.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his face slightly pink. “I wasn’t—okay, fine. Just—don’t make it weird.”

You laughed, waving him off. “It’s not weird. Now push the cart.”

Grumbling something under his breath, Steve resumed pushing, steering you toward the back corner of the store where the beaded curtain waited. The clinking of the beads was just faint enough to make you second-guess the idea, but you straightened your shoulders and braced yourself. The cart rattled slightly as Steve slowed, and you gave him a look over your shoulder.

“C’mon, Harrington. It’s just tapes.”

The dim lighting of the ‘adult’ section made the whole thing feel way more awkward than it should have been. You broke the silence once more as Steve pushed the cart, and you, to one of the corners and had you hand him the tapes.

“You know, a place called ‘Family Video’ having a section for porn is a little weird.” You say as he shelves Blondes in Heat.

“Can you stop saying porn?” he sighs over his shoulder before walking back to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What would you rather me call it? The erotic arts? Adult features?"

"Just shut up," Steve says, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You hand him the next tape, which you had been staring at with an amused smirk. "How to Satisfy a Woman in Six Minutes or Less? Really?"

Steve groaned. "God, you're such a pain."

"I'm just saying. Unrealistic. Also why the rush?"

"Oh, my God. Shut up!" Steve says, trying not to laugh.

"What? I'm being serious! Six minutes is a lot to ask. That's barely any time for foreplay, and I don't think anyone wants a half-assed—"

"I am not talking about sex with you!" he says, a little too loudly.

You bite back a laugh. "Why not? It's not weird. I'm sure it's not even the most awkward conversation you've had this week."

He turns, an eyebrow raised. "Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh. Remember when Robin told you and Dustin the difference between tampons and pads?"

Steve visibly winced at the memory. "Okay, fair point."

"See? Not weird," you said, handing him the next tape.

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, rolling his eyes as he took the tape and glanced at the cover. Then his eyes went wide, and his whole body seemed to freeze.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, trying to peek at the case. "Don't tell me it's worse than the last one. Oh, is it—"

"It's nothing," Steve said quickly, cutting you off as he turned away.

"Uh-uh," you said, jumping off the cart and walking around so you could see the front. "I want to see."

"No, no way."

"If it's really nothing, then why can't I see it?" you challenged, crossing your arms.

"Because I said so!" Steve shot back, his voice high and panicked.

"Fine. Hand it over," you demanded, holding out your hand.

"No."

"Yes."

"No, really, I—"

"Steven Harrington," you snapped, your patience running thin. "If you don't give me that tape right now, I will—"

"Alright, fine! Just stop yelling," Steve sighed, relenting as he shoved the tape into your hand. You stared at him, surprised.

"I yelled once."

"Still."

"Whatever."

You glanced down, and immediately, you felt your own body freeze. In a flash, the situation felt way too real.

Because staring up at you from the tape cover was an image of a girl who could've been you, if her hair was a different color. A girl, sprawled out on her back, naked. The camera angle was positioned above her, the lens angled to give the viewer a full view of her body—her face, her breasts, her legs spread wide.

Your face was on fire, your mouth suddenly dry. Beside you, Steve shifted nervously, and it occurred to you that you were both just staring silently at a porno tape that was clearly made for a specific audience.

"Uh... this is awkward," you finally managed, your voice a little hoarse.

Steve made a sound that was half laugh, half strangled cry. "Yeah, I could've done without the reminder, honestly."

You shot him a confused look. "Reminder?"

He waved his hands in front of him, clearly flustered. "No, that's not what I meant. I just meant—forget it. Forget I said anything. Can we please move on?"

"Not yet," you said, narrowing your eyes. "What do you mean, reminder? Is there a girl in pornos who looks like me or something?"

"Uh... maybe," Steve said, wincing. "But it's not weird, or whatever. It's totally normal. I just... happened watch this one. I wasn't trying to... or anything. I didn't realize..."

He was rambling, and it was kind of adorable. But there was also something about his nervous energy that made your skin prickle in the best way.

"So, if I look like this girl..." you said, letting the words hang as you tilted your head and met his gaze, which was locked onto yours.

"Yeah?" he breathed, swallowing thickly.

You stepped closer, holding his gaze. "Does that mean you've thought about me like that?"

"What?" Steve said, his voice cracking. "No. No way. Of course not. Why would I—"

"Liar."

Your tone was gentle, playful. It was a challenge, not an accusation. Steve's lips parted slightly, but he didn't respond, his eyes still locked on yours. You tried to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you.

"You know- just give me that." Steve said, snatching the tape back. You watched him shove it onto the shelf, the movement quick and jerky.

"Hey, I'm just teasing! It's not that serious." You say, hands up in mock defense as you walk backwards and hop back up to sit on the cart.

"Shut up," he muttered, his cheeks flushed.

You bit your lip, unable to stop grinning. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"Yeah, well, it's not funny."

You tilted your head, watching him as he fiddled with the shelf, his eyes not meeting yours. There was a vulnerability there, and a hint of shame. He looked almost hurt.

"Okay, seriously," you said, leaning forward and catching his gaze. "I didn't mean to actually upset you."

You hand him the next tape, attempting to make a joke about the absurd cover, but he just gives a noncommittal shrug. You frown.

"Steve, come on," you say, trying again. "I was just playing around. If it's really bothering you, I'll stop."

"It's not that," he said, shaking his head.

"Then what is it?"

He looked away, his jaw tight. You waited, giving him the space to say what he needed to. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, his words heavy with frustration.

"It's stupid," he said, still not meeting your gaze. "I just... we never talk about this stuff, okay? And then, the first time we do, it's because you think I'm some perv who gets off on looking at girls who look like you."

You blinked, caught off guard. "I... did not think that."

"Well, you should have," he snapped, turning to face you fully, his eyes burning. "Because that's how everyone thinks of me, isn't it? Steve Harrington, the former king of Hawkins High, screwing anything that moves."

You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Naturally, you went with humor to deflect.

"I mean if it helps, I've seen your luck with women lately, so I definitely don't think that..."

"Stop. Just—stop," Steve sighed, sounding exasperated. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. This is all we ever do. We can't have a serious conversation without joking about it, and it drives me insane."

You uncrossed your legs on the cart and let them dangle, leaning back against the wall of tapes, taken aback by his sudden honesty. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched. You had known each other through school, been friendly since he started at the store in July, but this was the first time he had ever really opened up. It was new, and a little scary, and definitely not something you knew how to deal with.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, and you meant it. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"Yeah, well," Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not the best at sharing. Ask anyone."

"Hey, I've got no room to talk," you said, smiling a little. "I've kept my walls pretty high too, I think."

"You're not wrong."

The air hung heavy between you. Steve shifted, his eyes darting from the cart to the shelves, clearly feeling just as awkward as you were.

"You know that the person you were in high school doesn't, like, define you right?" you offered, your voice quiet. "Like, I don't think of you as 'King Steve' or anything."

"Really?" he asked, his brow furrowing skeptically.

"Yeah," you said, nodding. "I mean, we work together. I get to see all of you. The Steve who's actually really good at his job, and a surprisingly good teacher when you're helping Robin study, and an actual nerd about movies. Plus, y'know, the dingus pirate."

Steve rolled his eyes but grinned a little.

"And I mean, maybe you'd have better luck if you were that guy when you tried to uh, pick up women. The fake charm kinda just... doesn't work with this version of you."

"Gee, thanks," he said, feigning annoyance.

"No, I mean it in a good way," you assured him. "I think you're more real like this."

He was quiet for a moment, chewing his lip. Then, unexpectedly, he reached for the next tape and you went to grab it from the dwindling stack. You handed him the tape, your fingertips brushing his palm, and a rush of heat flooded your cheeks.

Get it together, you told yourself. You're not suddenly crushing on the guy because he showed a little vulnerability are you?

Steve, oblivious, flipped the case over, studying the cover. "Okay, so this one is... not great," he said, shaking his head. "I've had the misfortune of having to put away more than one."

"Oh, boy," you said, laughing. "I'm ready."

"Okay, here goes," he said, turning the case toward you. "Blonde Bimbo Gets Banged."

"Jesus Christ," you snorted. "Is there any way this can get worse?"

"Let's find out," Steve said, flipping the case back and reading the synopsis. "She's blonde. She's a bimbo. And she knows it. She likes to flaunt her blonde beauty. Her boyfriend knows she's a whore, and that's just the way he likes her. They get wild and hot together, and soon the whole gang is banging the blonde bimbo."

"Jesus Christ how many times do they have to say 'blonde' in one synopsis. Does the target audience have the memory of a goldfish? Does this company need a new marketing team?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, it gets worse. The reviews call this a 'stand-out-of-the-pack classic.'"

"Please don't make me read the rest," you said, waving you hand in front of your face while laughing. "I'm already scarred."

"You wanted to know," Steve said, his lips pressed into a line to keep from laughing.

"You're right. I did. I shouldn't have."

You two fell back into a comfortable silence, and you found yourself studying Steve as he went about his task, staocking the last of the tapes neatly on the shelf. He had always been attractive, but he was starting to feel realer. You could see the details of him now, the cracks and rough edges and the parts of him he'd rather not share. It was a dangerous thought, and you knew it. He was still your coworker, after all. And, maybe, your friend?

You watched him finish shelving the last tape, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly with the movement, and your stomach did a somersault.

Oh no.

Steve turned and noticed you staring. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

You shook your head. "Nothing. I was just zoned out, I guess."

"Right," he said, clearly unconvinced. But he didn't push it.

"Last one," you say as your got to hand it to him. "And the survey says... oh. Wow."

"What is it?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, no, it's just this is the first time we've actually stocked something decent," you say, turning the case toward him. "Like, this one doesn't make me want to scrub my brain out with soap."

Steve studied the case, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, yeah. I've seen this one."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it's actually pretty good," he admitted. "There's, like, a plot and everything."

"You don't say," you said, smirking. "Maybe we should put this in the Romance section."

Steve rolled his eyes, shelving the movie. "Okay, wiseass."

"I'm just saying. Plot, characters, and actual sex? That's practically a Jackie Collins novel."

"Very funny," Steve said, walking back toward the cart. You were still sitting on the edge, the wheels of the cart rattling slightly.

"Huh. We actually got through the whole cart," you said, grinning a little. "Go us."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, leaning his hands against the cart and looking over at the shelf. "That was surprisingly easy."

"We're a pretty good team," you pointed out.

"Yeah, we are."

You leaned back a little, balancing yourself on your hands and studying Steve. He seemed to be doing the same, his gaze locked on yours. The air felt thick, heavy, and somehow electric. You could practically feel the sparks.

"We should, um," Steve swallowed thickly, glancing over at the beaded curtain that led out to the main sales floor. "We should probably get to the front."

"Yeah," you agreed, though neither of you moved.

You held his gaze, and he held yours, the tension between you was overwhelming, and intoxicating, and you could barely breathe.

"You got a deposit to finish..." he whispered, his voice low.

"Yeah, the main lights are still on," you said, your throat dry.

Neither of you moved. You could feel the pull, the urge to close the space, the electricity between you threatening to overload. Your pulse was racing, your skin tingling. You wondered if he could hear the thunder of your heart, if he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips.

"This is dumb," he murmured.

"So dumb," you breathed.

"We're not gonna..."

"Yeah, we're not..."

And then his lips were on yours, and everything else faded away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle but firm, and the world seemed to stop. His mouth was soft, the kiss slow, lingering. You melted into him, letting him guide the pace, savoring every second. He tasted like coffee and popcorn and something sweet, and the scent of his cologne surrounded you, enveloping you.

When you finally pulled apart, your lips felt swollen, and you were breathless. Your eyes fluttered open, and you stared at each other, the air crackling around you.

"We are so fucking dumb," he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, a small, amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

You laughed, feeling giddy. "The dumbest. We should probably stop."

"Probably," he murmured. But his lips found yours again, his hand drifting into your hair, his fingers curling. You grabbed a fistful of his uniform vest, pulling him closer. He pressed into you, the pressure of him against your chest, between your legs, made your body ache. You moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting along your lower lip. You could feel his smirk as your lips parted, giving him access to the rest of your mouth. His tongue grazed yours, teasing, exploring. His free hand ran up the outside of your leg, his palm hot on your thigh even through the denim of your jeans. You arched against him, craving the friction, the feel of his weight, and he pushed back.

You tugged on his vest, and without breaking the kiss, he clumsily shed it and tossed it aside, his arms then circling your waist. Your hands slid under the hem of his shirt, and you shivered at the contact with his bare skin. He sucked on your lower lip, making you gasp. Your fingertips dug into the muscle of his back, and he pressed harder into you. His body was solid, but soft, and he still held you so carefully. You wanted more of him, all of him, everything.

One of his hands moved to you shoulder to take the same hideous Family Video vest off of you. He broke the kiss only to make sure that he didn't rip it or pop one of your many pins off while doing so, putting it on the bottom of the cart. The careful action made you giggle. He smiled down at you before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. You pressed your tongue into his mouth this time, running it along his bottom lip. He moaned softly, pulling you even tighter against him.

Your fingers raked down his back, nails grazing the smooth skin, and he moaned into your mouth, grinding his hips into you. The friction of him between your legs sent a shiver of pleasure through your whole body, and you groaned. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs so that he could fit himself perfectly against you. He pressed hard, his body hot between your thighs, his chest pressed to your chest, his mouth on your mouth.

He rocked his hips into you, the slow friction driving you wild, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on as he pressed his full weight against you, pinning you on the cart between him and the shelves. Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he moved again, his hands moving down to grip your hips. You could feel his arousal growing, and you shifted to match his pace, his hips rolling into you as yours rocked up to meet them, creating the perfect amount of friction, the pressure building with every thrust. You whimpered against his mouth as his fingers dug into your thighs.

"God, I want you," he breathed between kisses, his voice husky, sending a fresh wave of heat through your core.

"We—we have to—" you gasped, your words catching in your throat as he ground against you again, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding. His hands moved to your waist, pushing your shirt up and running his palms up the exposed skin, his thumbs grazing the soft skin of your stomach that that swelled gently over the waistband of your jeans, his touch reverent as he let his thumbs trace lazy circles there. You pulled away at the contact, suddenly feeling self concious with his hands on your exposed skin.

"Woah.. is this okay?" he asked, his voice a little strained. "If you're not—"

"It's not you, it's just..." you swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "I've never been with someone... like you before. Someone who... has expectations..."

His hands slid out from under your shirt as he took a step back, confusion on his face. "Wait, what?"

"I mean," you continued, struggling to find the right words, "You're so attractive, and I'm..." You gestured to your body with an open palm, not even able to find the words to express how self-concious you were about your body compared to the girls that usually got his attention. "You know," you finally added. "Me. So... I mean, I just want you to be sure, because..."

Steve's eyebrows pulled together in concern, his voice suddenly very serious. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean."

"No," he shook his head. "No, I really don't."

You stared at him for a moment, surprised, and then your eyes dropped to your hands, which were clasped in front of you. Your nails had been painted black with silver glitter, and the edges of your fingertips were rough, worn down from anxiously picking at them for so many years. Your thighs, while sat on the cart, pressed together, the soft curve of them spilling slightly over the edge, a reminder of how you never felt like you fit the mold of what guys like Steve usually went for. You thought about the way your jeans pinched at your waist or how you always avoided certain angles in photos because they made your arms look bigger than you liked. Your stomach churned at the idea of him seeing all of you—every mark, every curve, every imperfection that you’d tried so hard to ignore but couldn’t help cataloging in moments like this.

“I just…” you started again, your voice quieter now, “I don’t want you to feel like this is a mistake. Like maybe the weird girl is hot when you're at work, but in the real world...” You trailed off, biting your lip hard to keep it from trembling.

Steve crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his hands gentle as they rested on your thighs, grounding you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady but insistent. “Look at me.”

When your eyes finally met his, the warmth in his expression nearly unraveled you. “You think I’m going to change my mind just because we take our clothes off? I'm rock hard in the middle of an adult section that smells like stale popcorn, and you think that's going to go away when your clothes are off? Really?" He asked incredulously, pausing to laugh at his own words. "That's pretty bold of you to assume."

Your breath hitched at the words. At his touch. The way his voice softened around your name. "Steve..."

"Seriously," he said, leaning a little closer. His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper, and his eyes darted between your eyes and your lips, his hands still gently kneading your thighs. "It's you that should be careful. I mean... I can barely focus on anything when you're just standing around in these jeans," he admitted, his eyes moving to your legs, his palms slowly moving up the curve of them. You bit your lip, heat flaring low in your stomach. "But naked?" His eyes returned to yours, his voice suddenly rough. "I wouldn't stand a chance."

Before you could even respond, he closed the distance, pressing his mouth to yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands gently kneading the tops of your thighs. You moaned softly at his touch, your arms sliding over his shoulders and tangling in his hair as you melted against him. He wrapped one arm around you, pulling you to him, the other hand sliding up your waist.

"Now," he whispered against your lips as he went to lift your shirt a little again. "Can I continue where I left off, please?"

You smiled, kissing him in reply. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss. He moaned against your lips, his hand slowly trailing up your waist again, lifting your shirt up more this time. Your body tingled in anticipation of his hands on your skin, his fingertips warm on your bare stomach, slowly trailing up to your ribs, then higher still, his thumb brushing the edge of the cup of your bra.

Your head tipped back as he broke the kiss to trace his tongue over your collar bone, then dipped lower, his breath hot on the exposed skin as his thumb gently brushed your nipple through your bra, your back arching slightly at the sensation. He pressed another kiss to your throat, and you moaned as his hand dipped under your bra, cupping your breast and kneading the soft skin.

You slid a hand under his shirt, trailing your fingertips across his waist, tracing the trail of hair that lead lower, the muscles in his stomach contracting at your touch. His hand on your waist tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you took the hint, reluctantly pulling away for a moment to peel the fabric over your head. Steve let out a low groan at the sight of you in your bra, and you smiled shyly, letting him take a moment to appreciate your newly exposed skin. His hand went to the back of your neck, his touch firm, grounding as he leaned in to kiss you again. His free hand found its way to your other breast, palming it and gently tugging your bra strap down.

You were both panting now, his fingers on you and your fingers on him, and your whole body throbbing for more. You ran your palm along the front of his jeans, feeling the outline of him straining against the denim. His mouth left yours and moved to the skin above your bra as his hand left your chest and fumbled for the clasp at your back. You ran your nails over the front of his jeans, your own pulse racing. You had to touch him, you had to see him. Your fingers found his belt, but it was difficult to work with his hands on you and your mind a haze of arousal and nerves.

He seemed to be having the same problem, because after a few more attempts he stopped trying to work your bra clasp and tugged impatiently at the fabric, his voice husky.

"This—can you take this off? Or should we move? Because I can't—"

"Here," you gasped, shifting slightly and turning so your back was to him. "Try again."

Steve hummed softly in acknowledgement, his breath tickling your shoulder as he worked to free you from the offending fabric, his touch feather light and torturously slow. You leaned forward a little, letting your hair fall in a curtain over your face so he wouldn't see how much his teasing was affecting you. But you could feel the wetness between your legs, the ache of anticipation making your knees weak. Finally, with a quiet, satisfied noise, he freed you from your bra, and you sat back against the self again, letting your hair swing back to frame your face again as you watched his reaction to your body.

Steve's mouth dropped open at the sight of you, the slow grin tugging at his lips doing nothing to ease the ache.

"Well, this isn't fair," he breathed, standing straighter with one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, as if to calm himself down. He looked over you as you leaned back, braced against your elbows. He then let out a long, deep exhale, his hands moving back to take his own shirt off. He paused about halfway through the motion to peer down at you, looking a little ridiculous with the collar halfway up his face, one arm free.

"Oh shit, sorry, did you want my shirt off too, or did you want me to leave it on, or—"

"Shirt. Off. Please," you said quickly. Steve grinned and finished the motion, tugging the tshirt off and letting it hit the floor. Your eyes darted to his torso, his skin flushed and his chest heaving slightly from the anticipation. He had a nice, lean build, with broad shoulders and a surprisingly strong-looking core. His chest hair was a light dusting that trailed across his pecs and tapered into a faint line down the center of his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. It added to his charm, giving him an effortlessly masculine edge. Your fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, to feel the softness of his skin under your palms, to trace the faint lines of his muscles beneath.

He definitely noticed you staring because he started grinning again, and when you noticed, he laughed a little. "What? Never seen a guy naked before?" he asked teasingly, making a joke of it to cover up the fact that he was suddenly a little self conscious under your scrutiny.

"You're beautiful." It spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it, and he looked surprised by the sincerity. His hands froze in mid-air and his eyes darted to yours. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out, so instead he cleared his throat and grinned shyly at the ground.

"Okay," he said, clearly trying to collect himself, and you realized that he'd been flustered. By you. A wave of pride flooded your stomach, and you bit your lip as your smile grew wider. You weren't usually so forward, and it had surprised you too, but you were glad it came out. "Okay. Let me just, uh, find my brain."

"You left it over there, on the floor. With your shirt." You smirked at him and his eyes narrowed at the playful teasing. He bent down to place both his hands on either side of you on the cart, caging you in as he leaned closer to you and pressed his forehead to yours. He gave a slight push of his hips against you, just to make you aware of how much you were affecting him, before cupping one of your breasts in his hand and letting out a breath. He took your nipple in his fingers and rolled it gently. You moaned at his touch, your thighs spreading a little wider.

The sound was affirmation enough for him to take your other nipple in his mouth, and you leaned into his touch as he circled his tongue around you. His teeth grazed over it, biting just slightly and making you whimper with need. You could feel him smirk against your skin, and he slid his free hand down to your stomach, then lower. His fingers grazed over your jeans and pressed firmly against you through the thick denim.

He paused with his hand right above your waistband and he lifted his head to look into your eyes. He was clearly trying to make sure that he wasn't overstepping any boundaries and was silently asking for permission to keep going.

"You can always say no." His voice was barely more than a whisper as his fingers played with the button of your pants, not wanting to rush you.

You didn't hesitate, just leaned into him and whispered, "Please touch me. Please."

He gave a low groan, pressing a hard kiss to your lips and biting down on your lower lip, before breaking away and dropping his gaze to your jeans. You watched, biting your lip as he flicked open the button, pulling down the zipper, and slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of both your jeans and your underwear. He dragged a single finger over the slick, swollen heat between your legs, and you let out a shaky breath. He sucked in a breath, clearly affected, and then dipped his finger lower to stroke along your entrance. You shivered, letting out a low moan and trying to pull him closer.

You felt his breath hot on your shoulder as his other hand moved to tug the rest of your pants off, giving him easier access to you.

"So wet already," he breathed, and the feel of his lips moving against the soft skin of your shoulder made your thighs twitch, the tension of anticipation nearly overwhelming. He traced circles around your entrance with one finger before pushing in slowly. His movements were cautious at first, gauging your reaction as he worked up a slow pace. But it wasn't enough, not when you'd been craving the release for what felt like forever. You spread your thighs, trying to pull him closer.

"More," you breathed, gripping his wrist to guide him deeper, faster, harder. Steve gave a low moan as his finger curled inside you, finding that one spot that made your whole body ache with pleasure. He added a second finger, pushing deep and pumping into you again and again as you ground your hips up to meet him, chasing the feeling, desperate for more. You looked up to find him watching you, his lips parted and his pupils blown wide.

He leaned down to kiss you again, and the change in angle sent a new wave of heat through your core, a whimper escaping you. His free hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into him and holding you steady as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You cried out at the new sensation, and Steve broke the kiss to let you breathe, his lips still pressed against yours, your breath mingling in the space between. His eyes locked on yours, he curled his fingers again and began working them in earnest, the heel of his palm pressed hard against you as his fingers pushed deeper and deeper with every thrust.

The pleasure was building, every nerve on fire as your orgasm neared, every stroke of his hand, every graze of his thumb making the tension build higher. His fingers moved faster, and you moaned his name, clinging to his shoulder, his arm, your hips rising to meet his hand.

"You're like...way too good at this..." You breathed between whimpers. Steve grinned, slowing his movements and teasing you.

"Well, I do have a pretty decent reputation..."

You gave a frustrated growl at the sudden slow down.

"Steve," you whined.

He chuckled softly. "Mm-mm," he hummed against your ear, nipping at it as he slowly slid his fingers out. "Not so fast."

"Are you... you're really doing this? Now?" you panted, incredulous. You needed more of him, more of his touch, more of the release you had been so close to, but now he was denying you? You opened your eyes, watching as he grinned down at you while he began to unbutton his jeans, still wearing a smug expression as he slowly pushed them down over his hips and down his legs. Your eyes darted from his face to the obvious bulge in his boxers as you swallowed.

"You want to keep complaining?" He asked, pulling down the boxers a little before taking himself in his hand and slowly pumping once, twice. His eyes never left yours, the grin you were used to seeing every day coming back "Because we can stop."

You couldn't even pretend to be angry as your gaze flicked between his face and his cock.

"Oh. You are... that's..." you stammered, taking a second to drink in the sight of him, so close but still so far from where you needed him. The smug grin turned genuine at your reaction and he pumped himself a few more times as if he was putting on a show for you. He let go of himself to slide his boxers all the way down and then stepped out of them to kick them to the side. He put his hands on sides of the cart and gave it a small shove, testing its durability, which illicited a small laugh from you.

"What's wrong? Not confident that we can stay in one piece for a few more minutes?" You teased. He scoffed in mock offense, giving you a quick kiss that lingered as he pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth.

"It's just precaution. Don't want you complaining if I get too excited and end up breaking this thing." He pulled away slowly, looking at the cart for a moment, thinking. "Actually, maybe I can—"

You wrapped a leg around his waist before he could finish his thought, pulling him to you so he was nestled perfectly against your hips. "You could also start with taking these off me," you suggested, grabbing the sides of your panties and tugging at the fabric. Steve let out a breath, his hands immediately moving to help you, though his mind was clearly distracted by what he wanted to do next. You watched as he pulled down the fabric over your hips, then your thighs, before dropping it on top of your jeans. His eyes trailed over the newly exposed skin, a look of pure desire on his face, his gaze hungry.

"God," he breathed. "You are..."

But you never found out what he was going to say, because your impatient hands had found him again, and you were pumping him slowly, watching him shiver in anticipation. His fingers dug into your hips, his mouth dropping open slightly, his gaze locked on yours as you moved, letting the feeling of your touch overwhelm him for a moment before he pulled your hand away with a small chuckle.

"Fuck. I almost forgot..." He bent to find his jeans and fished around in his back pocket. When he pulled his wallet free, your eyes went wide as you realized what he was getting. He held the square, foil wrapper in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he went to open the wrapper with his teeth.

"You brought a condom to work with you? Why would you ever think you'd need it here? In Family Video?" You questioned as he opened the packet, spitting the excess foil to the side, before looking at you with a lopsided smile.

"What, you think I put it there just in case we ran out of videos to restock? I had it there for after work one day, just in case," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing. You rolled your eyes, smiling and giving a slight laugh. "I mean, not with you. Not like... I had it there just in case I went on a date." He paused to wince a little. "Wait, no, that doesn't sound any better, does it?"

"I get what you're trying to say," you reassured him as you laughed a little harder, before the conversation took a slightly serious turn.

You glanced between the condom he was holding in his hand, and him. He was hard, aching even, and he looked desperate for your touch. You felt a small wave of pride that you could turn him on so much, and that you had the opportunity to be with him like this. To touch him and be touched.

You licked your lips, then said, "Put it on."

You felt like a teenager again, waiting with bated breath while he carefully slipped on the condom, his own breath shuddering as his fingers moved along his cock. When he finished, he leaned over you, caging you against the shelf once again with his arms on either side of your waist.

"For the record, I was hoping to take you on a date before… this happened. After work some time. Y'know, really take you out. Watch a movie with you, get dinner, go back to my car," He whispered the last bit into your ear, before kissing it gently and adding, "maybe get you in the backseat. But we can save that for another night."

You were too caught up in the feel of him against you to fully process what he just implied. A second night. This wouldn't just be a one time thing, you'd get to do this again... and maybe more?

Before you could react to that, you felt Steve line up at your entrance and your brain seemed to go on autopilot, your focus shifting to how you were about to get exactly what you needed. Your legs parted a little more, your heels resting against the lower shelves for leverage, your back arching slightly so your chest pressed against his. He paused there, looking down at you for a moment. Your breath caught at his expression—he was watching you intently, his gaze fixed on your face, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.

"You want this, right?" The genuine question took you aback. The vulnerability was back in his eyes, and it suddenly became clear to you how nervous he was. "I just want to be sure this isn't—"

"Steve," you said, cupping his face in your hand. "Yes. I want this."

His breath left him in a rush as his lips curled into a smile, his relief clear. Then he gave a slight push of his hips and began to slide into you. His cock started to stretch you out, his length filling you inch by inch, and you whimpered at the feeling, the sensation of him inside you so overwhelming after having gone so long without being with anyone yourself. Steve stopped, his head falling to your shoulder as he groaned.

"Oh, god... you feel... Jesus, you're—" he was breathing hard, his chest pressed to yours, his hands gripping the shelf. His cock pulsed inside you, and you were trembling from the tension of it, the sweet ache of being filled, the need to have him buried in you fully. You slid your hands up his back and wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close to you as possible. He let out a ragged breath, then pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck, just below your jaw.

"Are you okay? Is it too much? We can stop—"

"I'm okay, just please—"

"What? Anything, just say—"

"Please keep going. Please," you whimpered. Your thighs twitched around him and you tried to pull him deeper, your body aching for him, for release. The angle was different and new, and it felt incredible. "I need more... please, I want you, all of you... "

Your words spurred him on. His mouth found your neck, sucking lightly at the spot just below your ear as he slowly thrust deeper, and deeper, until he was buried inside you. You felt your inner muscles stretch to accommodate his size, the pressure making you gasp as your legs quivered and your body flushed. Steve groaned, his breathing ragged, his body taut as he waited for you to adjust, every muscle in his back tense.

"God, I don't know how long I can hold out," he whispered.

"Then don't," you said. Your nails dug into his skin and you clenched around his cock. Steve bit down on your shoulder as he began to thrust in long, hard strokes, the friction making your legs tremble as you tried to keep up.

He pressed you to him, his arm looped under your waist, pulling you down on his length, the slow slide making you see stars. His hand snaked down between you, finding your clit and stroking you as he began to pick up the pace, the pressure building with every thrust. His moans were quieter now, more breathy as he drove into you over and over, the rhythm steady as he fucked you in time to the thud of the shelf against the wall.

You could feel yourself approaching the edge, every nerve tingling, every inch of you burning for release. The pressure of his body on yours, the way he moved, his moans, his scent, his hands—everything was pushing you higher, faster. His cock twitched inside you and you moaned, your own orgasm building with every stroke, every thrust, every touch. His pace became more erratic as you moved against him, your legs spread, your back arched, the angle deep and intense.

"I'm... fuck, I'm going to..." he managed between pants. "I want you... to come first..."

The way his voice shook, his hips stuttering with the effort of holding himself back, made your chest swell. He wanted you to finish before him, he wanted you to feel good. And it did, it felt good—so good, too good. Your heart hammered in your chest, the pressure of it making you feel like it might burst. He pushed harder, his fingers moving faster on your clit.

"Steve—" His name escaped your lips, breathy, as your body started to unravel. The tension in your core built higher, your hips jerking, the shelf hitting the wall harder. Your vision blurred as a wave of pleasure rolled through you, and you gasped his name again as you came around him, your body shuddering. Your muscles clamped down hard, making his pace stutter as he tried to push through. Steve groaned, his forehead resting on yours, his fingers digging into your side. He kept his pace even, thrusting through the aftershocks and holding you through your release, his mouth hovering near yours as he panted and moaned. You slid your arms to his back and raked your nails down, dragging your hands across the planes of his body, reveling in how his muscles twitched as your touch moved along his spine and to his ass, and you pulled him in deeper.

The angle was different now, the pressure intense as his pace sped up and he started chasing his own orgasm, his cock filling you up completely and sliding against every inch of you, sending another wave of pleasure through you. He looked so beautiful above you, his hair disheveled and falling in front of his face, his expression pinched as his pace increased. You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him closer and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. The tender touch made him shiver, and he pushed in hard and fast, his whole body going tense as his cock pulsed, the waves of his own release flooding through him. He moaned softly and your name tumbled from his lips.

For a moment you stayed there, his arms around you, his face pressed into your shoulder. Then, as the aftershocks ebbed away, he pulled out, giving you one last slow stroke as he did so. The loss of his touch made you whimper. You felt so empty now, aching for him, and you couldn't help but feel a little vulnerable at the thought of him pulling away from you. Steve stayed close for a moment longer, kissing you softly, tenderly, and you could feel your heart clench. He wasn't rushing off, he wasn't pushing you away. He was taking care of you.

Your body hummed with the lingering buzz of pleasure as Steve pulled off the condom, knotted the end, and threw it into the wastebasket in the corner, grinning proudly when it landed in the trash.

"Nice," he said, nodding as if impressed with himself. "And with my left hand, no less. Maybe I should have tried for pro basketball."

He was being a dingus again. A post-sex dingus, but still, a dingus. And it was such a relief.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, watching him carefully as he found his discarded clothing on the ground and began getting dressed. You had no idea what would come after, what the dynamic of things would be. What were the rules here? The guys you'd been with in the past didn't stick around to help you get dressed. You just put on your clothes, left the guys to clean up their mess, and went home.

"So," you said, taking your time to gather your own clothes from the bottom of the cart, putting your underwear on first. "Now what?"

He gave you a small grin, buttoning his pants as you grabbed your bra. "Now..." he trailed off, as if in thought. You slipped your bra over your arms, reaching back to do the clasps as best you could with limited reach. Steve noticed you struggling, and stepped towards you. He reached a hand up, motioning for you to turn around so that he could help you.

You did as he instructed, turning so that he had easy access to the hooks. His fingers grazed along the skin on your back as he slowly clasped each of them together. Once he finished, his hands slid up to your shoulders and he turned you around to face him again. You smiled up at him as you continued to put on your bra, adjusting yourself slightly. He didn't pull back right away. He kept his hands on you, running his thumbs across the fabric on your shoulders, a content smile on his face as he stared at you.

"What is it?" you asked, noticing that he seemed to be stuck in his head. He didn't answer you right away. His smile widened and he leaned down, kissing you gently. It was so soft and slow, that you forgot what you had asked him to begin with. All you could think about was his mouth on yours, and his hands on your waist, and the smell of his cologne and sweat, and the way his hair was completely messed up. He pulled away after a moment and you blinked, dazed.

"Nothing," he answered after what seemed like forever. "Just... this."

"This?" you asked. You could feel your heart racing again. He was still smiling, and he kissed you once more before pulling away and reaching down to pick up his shirt.

"This. You and me," he said, as if the answer was obvious. He pulled his shirt over his head and cocked his head at you as you began to put your jeans on, not answering. "Unless you didn't... I mean, I kind of assumed... unless you just wanted to forget this happened? That's not really my thing, but I mean, it's okay, we could pretend if—"

"I like you." It just blurted out of you and he froze, looking surprised. You realized you were holding your breath. He blinked.

"Really?"

"Really. But I mean... I know you like to take girls out, so maybe this was just a—"

"You really don't know me that well, do you?" he laughed. Your heart was hammering.

"What do you mean?" you asked cautiously. You'd said too much. He was going to take it back now. You knew he would.

"I mean..." he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, but he didn't look like he wanted to back down. "I'm not just gonna... y'know, get with you at work and then bail on you. I like you, I like... being around you. A lot. I wanna keep doing it. Just in other places. Like outside of this shithole. And definitely without my uniform on. I mean, unless you're into that. I could probably bring my uniform home."

Your mind was going in about twenty directions at once, and it took you a second to process what he'd just said. He'd never... he liked being around you. And he wanted to take you out. You realized your mouth was open slightly and you closed it, biting your lip and feeling a wave of relief.

"You like me?" you repeated. "Not... you actually want to be around me?"

Steve stared at you for a second, a mix of disbelief and concern on his face, like you were the biggest idiot in the world for doubting him. Then his eyes narrowed, like he'd suddenly understood. He grabbed your waist again and pulled you back into him, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you telling me I'm so bad at flirting you didn't realize I've had a crush on you for the past four months? Are you kidding me?" He laughed a little at that. "You're actually insane. I thought it was so obvious..."

"I... what?" you stammered. "No! I had no idea."

"I mean," Steve started, pulling away slightly as he began to run through the list of times he'd been blatantly obvious in his interest for you, "I'm always trying to spend more time with you, asking you about yourself, finding stupid ways to make you smile or laugh or just... you know... pay attention to you... and like, the way I talk about you. Robin constantly call me out on it." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a little more, which somehow only added to how endearing he looked.

"Well..." you mumbled, feeling your cheeks redden, "I just thought it was, y'know. Steve Harrington being Steve Harrington. Being a flirt."

Steve stared at you in silence for a moment, looking slightly disappointed that you were that clueless.

"Wait... do you really not know? About—" he looked up to the ceiling, and let out a short huff of air, before he looked back at you with his eyebrows raised. "The flirting, the winking, the talking about my parents not being home? Like... is it actually not obvious?"

Your face fell as you thought back on all the interactions the two of you had over the past few months, trying to pick up on clues. Had you really missed every hint that he had been dropping? You wanted to bury your head in your hands. You wanted the ground to swallow you up. But... he was still here. Still smiling. Still standing close and looking at you with the same interest that he'd had the whole night, since you had walked through the front door.

"You argue with me about everything, though," you said with a laugh, thinking of the many debates that the two of you had over what was a good movie, what was a bad one, which character in a movie was the hottest, if the latest rom com was really that good (spoiler: it wasn't), or even over the smallest, dumbest things that didn't even matter. "If I hadn't known you, I'd think that we just didn't like each other."

"That's just the chemistry," Steve shrugged, "You think I argue with all my coworkers about every little thing? Please." He chuckled as you blushed and shook your head, before he took another step closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you. "I like getting a rise out of you. You get so annoyed when you're trying to argue your point but can't think of the words. It's really cute."

You playfully nudged him with your elbow, before you finally put on the last of your clothes. Steve did the same, and when you looked down, you were both fully dressed. There was no trace that either of you had just fucked each other senseless a few moments ago. You glanced back up at him as he adjusted his vest.

"Lets go finish that deposit and then get the hell out of here."

You followed him back to the register, and he took the deposit bag and signed it, passing it to you. He waited patiently as you double checked to make sure that the deposit slip and the money matched. Once everything was correct, he gave a nod.

"Looks good. Ready to lock up?" he asked.

You nodded, and you both went to the breakroom to punch out. He opened the door for you, and you punched out on your time clock and gathered your things. You put your vest in your locker and closed it, turning around to see that Steve had already waited for you, patiently leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. You walked past him and out of the door, flipping the light switch as you walked out.

Whe you were outside the store, Steve locked the doors, then took the key and tossed it up and caught it. He turned and started walking backwards in the direction of the parking lot, as you headed to the bike rack to unlock your bike. Steve turned around, thinking you were right behind him and when he saw you at the bike rack, he spoke again.

"What are you doing? Are you riding that?"

"Um. Yes?" you raised an eyebrow, giving him a strange look as if to question what his problem was. "That's the plan. It's how I usually get home from work."

"It's freezing and it's late and I'm not letting you ride that back." He was being insistent. "No."

"Um. Yeah? It's really not that bad. I have a coat."

"Get in the car, leave your bike chained up. I have a morning shift tomorrow, I'll make sure it's there" he insisted, "Please? It's already past ten."

"Steve."

"C'mon. Just get in." he shrugged, his keys jingling in his hands. He wasn't going to budge and you were starting to get annoyed.

"It's really not—"

"Get in the damn car already." He rolled his eyes at you, clearly not buying the argument that you could get home by yourself and in one piece. It was dark outside, and a bit chilly, but that wasn't exactly uncommon for Hawkins. You sighed. You knew you wouldn't win this battle and it wasn't worth it to continue to argue.

"Fine. But just for the record, it's not that cold and I would have been fine. You know that."

"Mhm. Sure." Steve grinned, leading the way to the parking lot. When you got there, you stopped and glanced at all the empty cars and he frowned, before he gave a laugh of relief when he saw his BMW in the back corner. He unlocked the doors, you both climbed inside and he started the engine. He drove out of the parking lot, turning right onto the main street. You leaned your head on the window, your mind still spinning with the events of the last hour. Steve Harrington wanted you. You wanted Steve Harrington. This wasn't a one time thing, you could do this again. It was really happening.

As your eyes closed, you thought about the conversation you'd just had and something clicked. Steve's comment about him having a crush on you for months finally sank in. Your head whipped towards Steve in the driver's seat and you stared at him, as if you hadn't seen him in this light before. You couldn't help but stare. He was... perfect. He was absolutely, flawlessly beautiful and you just couldn't believe that someone like him could be so infatuated with someone like you. You leaned back in your seat, watching him carefully as he drove. You felt like you were going to burst, or pass out. You'd never been more attracted to someone before, but there was something else there. It felt more intense, more intense than it had felt before with anyone else. You felt your face turn a few shades of pink again as you thought of him.

The ride to your house wasn't a long one. Hawkins wasn't exactly known for being large, after all, and you didn't live too far from the store. Before you knew it, you were parked on the side of the road right in front of your driveway. You smiled at the sight of the familiar streetlight flickering every now and then. Home.

"Thanks," you mumbled quietly, as Steve put the car in park. "I... I mean... um, yeah, just... thanks." You fidgeted a little with the seatbelt strap and he nodded at you. He didn't move to take his hand off the wheel.

"Yeah... so," Steve gave a slight sigh as he leaned back, finally looking away from the windshield and meeting your eyes again. "Can we go back to talking about the whole you having no clue thing, because... I gotta be honest with you. I don't think I've ever been this embarrassed in my life. You thought I was just..."

You stared at him for a second, watching the way he spoke, watching how animated he was as he explained his side of the story, as if it had actually been some huge deal that you didn't notice him pining over you. The thought of it was... sweet, and it was such a contrast from what you thought you knew about him before. He really cared about how you felt.

"You know that I would never use you, right?" Steve continued. "Like I really like you. I think I made that pretty clear at the store, but like, if I made you uncomfortable or—"

You reached forward and took his hand in yours. You took it gently at first, testing to see his reaction, before he took your hand in return. He glanced down at where your fingers laced together, as his thumb moved over your skin.

"Steve," you interrupted softly, and his head tilted up to look back at you again. He had been rambling.

"Hm?" He asked, clearly unsure of how to react to what you just said. He watched as you brought his hand up to your mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his hand. When your gaze met his again, you smiled, feeling the warmth of your breath on his hand, your nose brushing against him.

"Take me out." It was a request, a gentle demand, as if he didn't know that you would follow him anywhere at this point.

He grinned at that. The idea was definitely appealing. You saw the wheels turning in his head, imagining all the places that you could go on a date. What movies you could see, which ones would be worth sitting through for two hours with you, and which ones wouldn't. You were certain he had the entire month mapped out already.

"Can I pick you up at five on Saturday? There's this drive in theatre down the next town over." Steve offered, his eyes lit up with excitement.

"Yeah, I'm off on Saturday."

"I know. I've been staring at that calendar in the breakroom all week. I know all the dates you have off." Steve explained, as you looked at him in awe, with your mouth hanging open in surprise. "What? I wasn't lying back there. I had been planning to ask you out."

He didn't seem ashamed to admit it either, as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then brushed his fingers over your cheek, as if to check that you were really there. You leaned into the touch and he smiled, letting out a content sigh. He took your hand and pulled you towards him, pressing his lips to your temple.

"I should get inside, my parents are probably wondering why I'm home from work so late." You whispered, looking up at Steve, whose face fell. He pulled you a little closer to him, leaning his head down to meet you, as if he didn't want you to leave.

"Saturday." He said it more to remind himself than to remind you. "I'll pick you up here."

"I'll be ready. Promise." you grinned, and he nodded in confirmation. With that, he gave you one final kiss, pressing his lips gently to yours for what felt like an eternity, but ended up only being about three seconds, before letting you go. He sat back up, putting the car back into drive, as you reached for the door handle.

"Have a good night."

"Yeah. You too." Steve smiled as he put the car back in drive.

---

extra lil bonus scene for the platonic!Stobin lovers:

The next morning at Family Video, Steve leaned lazily against the counter, flipping through a stack of tapes with all the enthusiasm of a kid forced to do summer homework. Robin, meanwhile, was loading the last of the returns into a cart, muttering about how she always got the worst tasks.

“You could at least pretend to help,” Robin said, giving him a pointed look as she pushed the cart toward the back.

“I’m on very important rewinder duty,” Steve replied, smirking as he leaned back against the counter.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re on very important doing nothing duty.”

She disappeared into the aisles, her voice carrying back to him as she headed toward the adult section. “Why do I always get stuck with the beaded curtain of doom? I didn’t sign up to alphabetize Hawkins’ finest porn collection !”

“Because you’re the captain, and I’m just a humble first mate,” Steve called after her, grinning to himself.

A moment later, Robin’s horrified yell shattered the calm.

“STEVE!”

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as he sprinted toward the back, shoving through the beads to find Robin standing stock-still, staring at the trash can with a look of utter disgust.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, panting slightly.

Robin pointed at the trash can like it was radioactive. “There is a used condom in the trash can!”

Steve froze, his stomach dropping. “Uh…”

Robin turned to him, her expression a mix of shock and dawning realization. “Wait. Wait. Harrington. No. Tell me you didn’t—”

“I—it’s not what it looks like!” Steve stammered, raising his hands in defense. “I mean, technically, it is what it looks like, but it’s not like that!”

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Oh my God, you and—wait— you and her?! In the adult section?!”

“No! Well… yes. But it wasn’t—it was after close!” Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly panicking. “And it wasn’t planned ! It just… happened!”

Robin stared at him, blinking slowly. Then, she tilted her head. “So let me get this straight. You, Steve Harrington, had sex here, surrounded by titles like Butt Bandits 3 and Debbie Does Dallas? ”

Steve’s face turned bright red as he buried his face in his hands. “Please don’t say it like that.”

Robin then let out a bark of laughter. “Steve, do you have any idea how lucky you are that I found this and not Keith? Can you even imagine? He’d have a field day!”

Steve groaned again, his face still buried in his hands. “Please, don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not joking!” Robin said, laughing harder now. “You’d never live it down. He’d probably give you some gross high-five and call you ‘stud’ every time he saw you.”

“God, please stop. I’m already dying of embarrassment.”

Robin folded her arms, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. Who even does this? At work, Steve? In the adult section? What, were you inspired by the ambiance?”

“It wasn’t planned!” Steve repeated, throwing his head back. “It just… happened!”

Robin smirked. “Oh, I’m sure it just happened. ”

“Robin,” Steve said, glaring at her. “Please. I’m begging you. Just pretend this didn’t happen.”

Robin pretended to consider it, then shrugged. “Fine. But you’re taking the trash out.”

“What? No way!”

“Oh, yes way,” she said, shoving the trash can toward him. “You made this mess. Literally. Now deal with it.”

Steve sighed dramatically, grabbing the trash can and stomping toward the back door as Robin’s laughter echoed behind him.

As he reached the exit, Robin called after him, her voice dripping with amusement. “Oh, and for the record? Since she clearly likes you back, maybe next time, take her somewhere that doesn’t smell like old popcorn and desperation!”

Steve froze mid-step, turning to glare at her. “Robin!”

She just grinned, wiggling her fingers in a wave. “Have fun with the trash, lover boy!”

Steve groaned loudly, stomping outside as Robin’s laughter rang through the store, the last thing he heard before the door slammed shut.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #platonic!stobin #platonic stobin #robin buckley #oneshot #x reader #smut #friends to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #no use of y/n #self image issues #idiots in love #family video #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things smut

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carlthecloaked · 2 months ago

Text

Wrong Number, Right Person

938 words | no cw | i know i said i would do eddies pov but everytime i tried writing it it felt off :< | and so sorry this took so long!! i have a LOT of stuff going on personally

|previous chapter|

Robin snatched Steve’s backup phone from his hands before he could protest, scrolling through the messages with a gleeful smirk.

“Oh my god, Steve. You flirted with them.”

“I did not!” Steve lunged for the phone, but Robin dodged, hopping onto the couch to keep it out of reach.

“Uh, ‘I hate how funny you are’? ‘Okay but you have to say who you are though’?” She mimicked his voice in a ridiculous falsetto. “That’s textbook flirting.”

Steve groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not. I was just—curious.”

“Curious,” Robin repeated, deadpan. “Right. Because you totally put this much effort into every wrong number text.”

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it.

Robin grinned. “Exactly. Now—” She tossed the phone back to him. “Text them again.”

Steve fumbled the catch, barely saving it from face-planting onto the floor. “What? No. I already apologized for the wrong number thing. It’d be weird.”

Robin rolled her eyes so hard Steve worried they might get stuck. “Steve. You trauma-dumped about your terrible date to a complete stranger, and they not only listened but joined in on roasting him. That’s not ‘weird.’ That’s fate.”

Steve scoffed. “Fate?”

“Fate,” Robin repeated solemnly, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. “Now text them, or I swear to god, I’ll do it for you.”

Steve hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen.

It was kind of nice talking to them. And they were funny. And—okay, fine, maybe a tiny bit intriguing.

He exhaled sharply and started typing.

Steve: so. about earlier.

Steve: i feel like i should apologize again for trauma dumping on a stranger lmao

The reply came almost instantly.

Unknown Number: nah, don’t worry about it. your suffering was highly entertaining

Steve: wow. glad my pain amuses you

Unknown Number: it really does. so, any updates? did you block the guy? change your name? flee the country

Steve: considering all options tbh

Unknown Number: i vote flee the country.start fresh. new identity.

Steve: you’re a terrible influence

Unknown Number: you have no idea ;)

Steve bit back a grin.

Robin, who had been shamelessly reading over his shoulder, nudged him with her elbow. “Oh my god, they’re flirting with you.”

“They are not,” Steve hissed, though his ears felt suspiciously warm.

Steve: still not gonna tell me who you are?

Unknown Number: nope. but i’ll give you another hint

Steve: …ok?

Unknown Number: i have two eyes

Steve groaned.

Steve: revolutionary. truly.

Unknown Number: i know, i’m so mysterious

Steve: you’re so annoying

Unknown Number: you love it

Steve’s thumb froze over the screen.

Robin let out a loud “Ooooh.”

Steve elbowed her. “Shut up.”

Steve: bold assumption

Unknown Number: not an assumption. a fact.

Steve’s face warmed.

Robin cackled. “Oh my god. They’re good.”

Steve ignored her, typing quickly before he could overthink it.

Steve: okay. if you won’t tell me who you are, at least tell me how you got my number

Unknown Number: wouldn’t you like to know, harrington?

Steve blinked.

Steve: wait. you know my name?

Unknown Number: of course i do.

Robin gasped. “Ohhhh shit.”

Steve’s pulse jumped.

Steve: okay now i definitely need to know who this is

Unknown Number: where’s the fun in that?

Steve: i hate you

Unknown Number: no you don’t

Steve exhaled, exasperated but amused.

Steve: fine. keep your secrets. but i will figure it out

Unknown Number: looking forward to it

Robin snatched the phone again before Steve could stop her, typing rapidly.

“Robin—”

“Relax! I’m helping.”

Steve grabbed for the phone, but she danced out of reach, hitting send with a triumphant smirk.

He stared in horror at the screen.

Steve (Robin): so when are you guys going on your first date? since you’re so sure steve loves you

Steve’s stomach dropped. “Robin.”

The reply came instantly.

Unknown Number: name the time and place. i’ll be there.

Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Robin cackled. “This is the best day of my life.”

Steve grabbed the phone back, typing frantically.

Steve: IGNORE HER. SHE’S A MENACE.

Unknown Number: too late. i already like her

Steve: …this is a nightmare

Unknown Number: don’t worry, steve. i’ll make sure our first date is better than your last one

Steve: you’re insufferable

Unknown Number: you’re blushing

Steve was, in fact, blushing.

Robin collapsed onto the couch next to him, wheezing with laughter. “Oh my god. You’re screwed.”

Steve groaned, throwing an arm over his face.

This was not how today was supposed to go.

(And yet—some small, traitorous part of him was excited.)

Steve stared at his ceiling, phone resting on his chest. He should not be thinking about this. He should not be smiling at his phone like an idiot. And he definitely should not be considering texting them again.

But.

He grabbed his phone.

Steve: okay. one more hint.

Unknown Number: bold of you to assume i’ll give in that easily

Steve: bold of you to assume i won’t annoy you until you do

Unknown Number: oh? so you are planning on keeping me around?

Steve: don’t flatter yourself

Unknown Number: too late ;)

Steve huffed a laugh.

Steve: fine. no hints. but answer me this—do i actually know you?

Unknown Number: maybe

Steve: that’s not an answer

Unknown Number: it’s my answer

Steve: you’re impossible

Unknown Number: and yet here you are, still texting me

Steve rolled onto his side, biting his lip to keep from grinning.

Steve: …shut up.

Unknown Number: make me

Steve’s breath caught.

Oh.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

Because whoever was on the other end of this phone?

Steve was doomed.

taglist: @ellietheasexylibrarian , @tartarusknight , @ravenfrog

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #robin buckley #steddie #cloaked's fics #modern au

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writingfics-passingtime · 2 months ago

Text

Gentle

pairing: Loki x female reader

synopsis: You don't think you're ticklish. Loki offers to prove you wrong.

word count: ~3500

warnings: lots of swearing, sexual tension, suggestive jokes and innuendo, possessive!Loki, minor violence (training sparring)

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a sexually-charged relationship between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: This fic is for all the people who aren't affected by rough and tumble tickling. Who know that gentle can still be ruthless. I see you.

Sam was grounded.

So while he was strong, fast, and stubborn, he didn't have his wings. No aerial advantage.

And you were sharper. You moved with practiced ease, letting him tire himself out as he swung and lunged across the sunken sparring pit, meeting his strikes with sidesteps, well-placed counters, and a smirk you hoped was infuriating.

He went for your ribs.

You caught his wrist. Twisted. Used that leverage to hook your legs around him, then used his thrown balance to send him down.

His back hit the mat with a solid thud.

For a moment, he just blinked up at you, winded and momentarily stunned.

You grinned, settling your weight on top of him, knee digging into his ribs just hard enough to remind him who the boss was. "Tell me," you mused, "who did you say was getting their ass handed to them today?"

Sam huffed, mouth pursing into something half-annoyed, half-amused. "Yeah, screw you."

You arched a brow. "Not much of an apology."

His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing. A second’s hesitation. You pounced.

Your fingers slipped under his ribs, pressing just enough-

"Shit!"

Your smirk quickly became a grin.

A choked laugh ripped out of him before he could stop it. He bucked violently, twisting beneath you as laughter tore through him like he’d been struck by lightning.

Your hand followed wherever he turned. "Something wrong, Wilson?"

"You demon-" He twisted again, finally using sheer force to throw you off. You hit the mat with a sharp roll over your shoulder, coming up to your feet in a fluid motion, laughing as he swore under his breath, breathless.

You two weren't the only ones laughing.

Thor chuckled, amused. Bucky smirked, arms crossed. Steve shook his head, exasperated. And Loki...

Loki was watching you like a cat watching a caged bird.

He tilted his head, eyes sharp, lips lifting in a slow, knowing smirk. "That," he said, "seems like an extraordinarily reckless tactic to introduce."

You dusted your hands off. "How so?"

Loki’s smirk widened. He took the bait. "Because every person in this room is stronger than you. And now you’ve gone and planted a very particular idea in their minds."

His gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate. You crossed your arms, lifting that same brow in challenge. Giving him space to continue monologuing.

"I mean, really," he mused in a silken voice, "do you truly want to tempt fate by giving them the notion to simply hold you down and take their revenge?"

The air shifted, and you held back your confident smirk, just to play with him a bit. "They're welcome to try."

Bucky stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. "It's futile." He shot you a begrudging look. "We learned a long time ago - she’s not ticklish."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, and it’s annoying as hell. Not many ways to get her back for all that sass."

You shot him a sly smile.

Loki made a sound in his throat - amused, unimpressed. "You’re wrong."

Your eyes slid back to him, fixing him with a look. "Wrong? I'm not ticklish, Loki."

Loki’s lips curled into a smirk. “Yes, you are.”

Tense silence fell upon the room as the others turned to Loki, confused, silently hoping.

The moment stretched, electric.

Smirking eye contact, the crackle of something just shy of violent, just shy of something else.

You squinted. "I'm not lying. I've never been ticklish. Ask anyone in here."

“Hmm, I'm sure they have tried with their clumsy mortal hands,” he murmured, voice low, rich, laced with wicked amusement. “I, however..." His smirk grew downright devious. "I could take you apart without breaking a sweat.”

Your stomach did something sharp and treacherous. The heat in your face spread down your neck before you could help it.

Sam snorted. “Oh my god.”

Bucky shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Steve exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting his life choices.

You, however, refused to flinch.

“Yeah, right.”

Loki chuckled, slow and dark.

“I’ll gladly prove it,” he insisted, voice a lazy taunt, “as soon as you’re not afraid to submit to it."

The words pushed like a slow blade between your ribs. The challenge, goading you to agree to being pinned and tested, for him to catalogue your responses. It’s not like he was going to succeed in tickling you, but submit?

No way in hell.

Your mouth parted in a scoff, heat flushing your neck, your cheeks, something sharp already forming on your tongue-

“Okay, this,” Sam interrupted, pointing one hand at each of you, “is the one of most sexual things I’ve ever seen in my life, and I once walked in on Thor oiling himself up for battle.”

You lunged.

Sam yelped, dodging back, but before you could reach him, a familiar arm hooked around your waist, effortlessly hauling you back onto the mat.

Bucky didn’t even flinch. “Easy, killer."

Loki chuckled, low and pleased, as you pushed Bucky's arm away.

“I do so enjoy this part,” the god mused.

You exhaled sharply, still flushed, still coiled tight with something restless and unsatisfied. You took the bait. “What part?”

His gaze flicked to yours, amused, knowing. “The part where you pretend to be annoyed.”

The others snorted.

Your mouth opened, but before you could fire back, Loki winked, turned, and made to leave.

Something in you rebelled.

“Hey!" You called after him. "Come put your money where your mouth is, Your Highness."

Loki stopped.

He exhaled a low, dark chuckle, then, slowly, began rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, baring forearms lined with lean, deceptive strength.

“I didn't think,” he murmured, “you'd want an audience for what’s about to transpire.”

Sam made a strangled noise. “I hate this. I hate this weird foreplay.”

Thor’s booming laugh filled the room.

"Of course I want an audience," you hummed, ignoring the riffraff. "I want them all to witness you making a fool of yourself." You stepped back onto the mat, uncrossing your arms, opening your stance. "But I’m not submitting. If you want me at your mercy, you’ll have to earn it.”

Loki turned back, and - lazily, deliberately, with a smirk that was pure sin - prowled toward you. “Very well,” he purred with a tilt of his head. “Let’s play.”

But the moment his feet hit the mat, you got the sinking feeling that you'd just walked into a trap.

You’d never sparred with Loki before. Hell, you’d never even seen him fight outside of an actual battlefield, where his chaos and skill blurred the line between strategy and sheer fucking audacity.

But now, circling each other under the dim gym lights, with him as your adversary, you saw raw, precise power coiled beneath his deliberate movements, waiting to unravel.

His stance was fluid, deceptively relaxed. Beautiful, cocky bastard. Every shift of his weight, every flicker of his gaze, calculated. You could tell he was watching you, reading you, in a way that made heat lick at the base of your spine. And deep in your belly.

So you lunged first.

In the blink of an eye, he dodged, slipping around your advance like a fast-flowing stream through your fingers, barely exerting any effort. Your body twisted, adjusting on instinct, throwing your weight into a feint before coming back around, aiming for his side.

But again, he was faster.

Loki flowed around your strike like water, his arm shooting out with lightning precision. You barely registered the movement before his palm landed solidly against your ribs - not with brute force, but a firm, pointed push, sending you stumbling off balance.

You caught yourself, breath coming sharp through your nose. He stood there, utterly at ease, watching you with a glint of amusement.

Smug, infuriatingly hot, cocky bastard.

You exhaled. Steady.

Regrouping, you moved again, but this time, you were smarter - testing- feeling out the way he reacted. The next time he dodged, you anticipated it, twisting mid-motion and using his own momentum against him, catching his arm and yanking.

It almost worked.

The instant you felt his weight shift, you knew - he’d let you do that.

You barely had time to react before he countered, twisting with impossible grace, his body moving like an under-sea shadow. You felt it before you saw it.

His hands on you.

Turning.

Your feet ripped out from under you.

The mat met your chest with a harsh thud, your breath shooting out of your lungs in a rush.

Your wrists flexed, instinctively pushing to lift yourself up - except one of them wasn’t moving. Something heavy and warm pressed you down.

Your pulse jumped.

Loki was above you, his thighs caging your hips, one hand securing your wrist above your head. Your left side was left exposed, vulnerable. You snuck a glance at the rest of the team - on your... right - he chose to test the side they couldn't see. Why?

There were more important matters to tend to.

You struggled, but his grip was like iron, pressing your wrist into the mat, keeping your body still beneath his. The sheer weight of him was suffocating, and intoxicating, his lean muscle like warm steel.

The sound of your panting filled the space between you as you used your free hand to push against his knee, against the mat, to try and pry his hand off your wrist.

Nothing budged. Nothing. Especially not you.

So, finally, you gave up the fight, relaxing underneath him, letting your forehead fall to the mat as the others chuckled on the sidelines.

A low, satisfied, hum rumbled from his chest.

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the way the heat from his body seemed to sink into yours. “Yeah, whatever. You're a thousand-year-old god, of course you're gonna win."

Loki chuckled. And that sound - deep, smug, thoroughly entertained - was infuriating.

You scoffed, and gave a snarky chuckle, lazing your head to the side, not the slightest bit concerned. "Well, go on. Do what you need to do. All of these guys have tried, failed, and reaped the embarrassment of prodding my stomach while I stare them down. Your turn."

"My turn," he repeated in a low, heat, murmur that made your neck prickle. "They’ve all tried, have they?"

His eyes flicked toward the others - Bucky, Sam, Steve, Thor - still watching with rapt attention.

"I'm guessing they wrestled you, pinned you," Loki mused, "and I imagine they grabbed at your waist, or jammed their fingers clumsily under your arms, yes?"

Your stomach clenched at the cool, casual confidence in his voice.

His head dipped lower, lips brushing just past your ear.

"But no one's ever been gentle with you, have they?"

The implication landed hot in your stomach. With that tone, he definitely wasn't just talking about tickling.

"I don’t need gentle," you gritted out, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

Loki hummed again. And then -

A single touch.

Soft. Featherlight. Unfamiliar.

A slow, wandering drag of fingertips under the hem of your shirt, gliding over your side with aching delicacy.

An involuntary shudder rippled through you, sparkling sensation travelling up your neck, down your hip.

Your breath hitched.

Loki’s low chuckle vibrated against your back.

“Oh, my. Was that a reaction?"

You tested your wrist again, his grip didn’t budge. Iron.

“I-” You wet your lips, breathing out a nervous chuckle. Steady... “If this is tickling, why do people react to it so violently? Sam practically-”

The words died in your throat as his fingers slipped higher.

A slow, agonisingly light scratching at your ribcage.

Your body shifted before you even realised. Some strange, new sensation bloomed alive beneath your skin - an almost electric tingle, sharp and shivery, not... uncomfortable but not something you could control.

You winced, feeling your own muscles betray you, your arm instinctively trying to pull down. Your brow furrowed.

Silence from the others.

Your pulse pounded as you turned your head and met their confused stares and raised brows.

Loki’s voice dipped lower. “Tell me,” he whispered, dark and taunting, “what do you feel?”

You swallowed. Your breath was unsteady. “I don’t know, I-”

You barely got the words out before his fingers slipped higher, that damnably light touch moving quicker, scraping against your skin and nerves-

A sensation erupted.

Your body jerked.

A strangled noise caught in your throat - somewhere between a gasp and a sound you’d never made before - bubbling up.

No.

No fucking way.

Your fingers dug into the mat. Heat roared through your veins, panic flickering, because something strange was happening. Your body was reacting. Your breath hitching, catching, some kind of force simmering deep in your lungs-

“What the hell are you doing to me?” you demanded, voice breathless, confused, desperate.

Loki only laughed, dark and rich, and said, “Proving a point.”

And then he picked up the speed.

A choked, gasping giggle burst out of you before you could stop it.

Your eyes widened.

The others on the sidelines looked gobsmacked.

The sensation grew, intensified, as Loki’s fingers didn’t stop.

You twisted violently, struggling under him, but his weight was unforgiving, his grip relentless.

Your lips parted, a stream of breathless giggles slipping free.

Oh, fuck.

Your body shuddered as his fingers skimmed higher, up to the skin stretched over the centre of your ribcage-

Your head hit the mat as laughter was yanked out of you. Your legs kicked, trying to gain traction, but Loki only chuckled at your useless attempts.

“Wait- fucking- you-"

“Well,” Loki purred, so fucking pleased with himself, “Not ticklish, was it?”

The laughter ripped through your throat, unrelenting, spilling out in gasping waves as Loki’s damnable fingers continued their excruciatingly light torment. The others on the sidelines cheered in pure delight as you laughed and laughed and twisted and squirmed.

But there was no escape.

No amount of tensing, no desperate attempts to throw him off, could do anything against his sheer strength and control. His weight pressed you into the mat, keeping you exactly where he wanted, his hand moving with deadly precision - every stroke of his fingertips dragging something shivery and unbearable from your skin.

Bucky's surprised scoff cut across your struggling. "Well I'll be."

"All this time, huh?" Steve huffed a laugh through his nose.

"Oh, you are definitely getting it from me," Sam's chortling threat made you turn your head away, back to where only Loki could see your profile.

Gods, Loki.

This wasn’t the clumsy, forceful jabbing of a sparring partner trying to elicit a reaction.

This... this was deliberate. Skilled. Loki had found something new in you, and he was taking his time exploring it.

And the worst part?

The heat.

The deep, simmering pull in your stomach had nothing to do with his magic and everything to do with the way his body pinned yours, the warmth of his breath, the slow, dangerous way he was learning you.

You were done for.

“Now,” Loki called to the others, voice smooth and pleased and maddeningly composed over your breathless gasps, “what exactly should I be dishing out punishment for? As long as you all have tales of her misdeeds…”

His fingers fluttered along your ribs, light and delicate, dragging over the hyper-sensitive skin. Your body seized with a squeal, then a sharp, gasping laugh.

“…I’ll keep going.”

The traitorous bastards on the sidelines did not hesitate.

“How much time you got?” Sam called, laughing.

"She replaced the protein powder with flour," Bucky offered. "Had us all drinking sludge in our shakes for days until we realised."

Loki hummed in amusement. "Clever." His fingers never stopped - the feathery, unbearable strokes at your lower ribs making your body tremble under him.

"Last week she convinced Thor that the Alexa was not only a real person, but 'Midgard's Only Goddess.'" Sam snorted. "Had Thor trying to win her favour for hours."

Loki chuckled, shaking his head as though deeply ashamed of you. His fingers slid higher up your ribs, the change in focus so sudden it made your breath hitch violently - your body arching before you could stop it.

"Oh, that’s good," Sam laughed. "Keep her goin', we got more."

"She told the new recruits that I get my hair done at a salon called ‘Thunder Struck,’" Thor added, betrayal in his voice. "The rumours-"

"-are completely true," you gasped, still somehow defiant through the breathless laughter spilling out of you.

Loki sighed in faux fatigue. "A habitual liar, too. Unfortunate." His fingers shifted again, this time creeping into the soft space under your arm-

Your laughter folded into silence.

A sharp, breathless inhale was all you could manage, body seizing as your nerves exploded with sensation. Your free hand slammed into the mat, trying to brace yourself.

Loki noticed.

“Oh,” he purred, sounding far too satisfied. His fingers didn’t move, just rested there, as if savouring the way you tensed beneath him. “I see.”

Your eyes widened. Somehow, you knew what was coming.

“I believe,” he murmured darkly, “I’ve found the perfect place for my discipline.”

His fingers twitched.

A sharp, shuddering noise burst out of you.

Then he started moving.

Slow. Dragging.

Your body jolted before you could stop it, a sharp, helpless squirm beneath him. Your breath hitched violently in your throat, trying to hold in the laughter- you couldn’t let him win-

His fingers curled against your skin in a perfectly devastating way, grazing soft circles in the deepest, most vulnerable part of that untouched nerve space, and the laughter broke out of you in an uncontrollable rush.

Loki sighed, as if he were so terribly disappointed.

“What was it you called me last week?” he mused, tracing, scratching, slow, taunting circles over every tormenting inch. “Ah, yes - ‘horny Shakespeare?’”

You shrieked. Your trapped hand trembling into a fist, tears of mirth threatening hot behind your eyes.

The others roared with laughter.

“Or was it-” He shifted, pressing in closer, lips brushing against your burning ear, voice dripping with amusement, “-‘overgrown magician with daddy issues’?”

You shrieked again, laughter breaking apart into gasping, desperate protests.

“Oh, I rather like this one-” His fingers swirled, still unbearably light, sweeping quickly over the taut skin. “You said I ‘probably cry after sex.’”

“I TAKE IT BACK-”

Loki laughed, dark and dangerous, sitting back up as his fingers scraped gently, just enough to send fire through your nerves, to make your laughter break, to send your legs kicking uselessly against the mat.

"Ah, and my favourite," Loki continued, relentless, "-you looked me dead in the eyes, in front of the entire team, and asked me if my horns were, in fact, just overcompensation for something far more-"

He was cut off when his fingers stroked, just so, against the place just below your arm where your ribcage ended, and laughter tore through you, something wrecked in your voice, your body shaking against his.

"Oh, you didn't like that, did you?" he soothed in mock sympathy before his voice gave way to a dark, sensuous chuckle.

"Loki- PLEASE!"

You had never begged before.

But you'd never been ticklish before.

And Loki - Loki fucking knew.

His chuckle returned as his hand slowed to a stop, fingers still perched threateningly as your ragged breath expelled beneath him.

"Did you hear that, gentlemen?" Your chest heaved, body shaking from the sheer force of it all, something deeply unsettled in your bones as his palm smoothed down your side, lingering before his fingers tightened at your hip, his grip possessive. "I do believe our dear girl has finally learned some manners."

Your entire body burned.

Then, Loki pushed off, moving effortlessly to his feet as if the last five minutes hadn’t utterly destroyed you.

True to his word, he hadn't broken a sweat.

You barely managed to push yourself onto your knees, your body unsteady, your breathing still laboured.

"Wait, hold up," Sam interrupted, holding a hand towards you. "Loki, you gotta show us how to do that."

Loki stiffened. It was barely noticeable. A flicker. A shift in the air.

And then - smooth as ever, with an icy calm that sent a clear warning, "I used magic," he said, holding up a hand with fingertips glowing green. "You are not capable, and you should not try."

You looked up, saw the chilled death in his stare that bored into Sam.

Liar.

That's why he chose to test the side no one else can see; he didn't want anyone else knowing how to undo you.

And everyone knew it. The implication was clear:

Back off.

Sam held up his hands immediately. "Alright, damn. Not trying to start an intergalactic incident."

The tension in the room eased as you caught your breath, but the tension inside you only burned hotter.

Loki turned and met your gaze with something solemn in his expression, something dark and wanting... protective.

Something only for you.

And fuck, you were both done for.

#loki x reader #no y/n #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #ticklish!reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki x reader tickle #ler!loki

600 notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 5 months ago

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movies — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: steve is bored at work and you're the only one who makes his day better content warnings: nothing

Steve leaned against the counter, the boredom etched across his face as his fingers drummed an aimless rhythm on the countertop. With a loud, exaggerated groan, he let his head fall back dramatically.

“Will you stop it?” Robin snapped from behind him, not even looking up from the stack of tapes she was sorting through.

“Stop what?” Steve groaned again, his tone deliberately petulant.

“That!” Robin shot back, exasperated. She abandoned her post and grabbed a handful of tapes, heading toward one of the shelves to restock them.

Steve didn’t answer, but the tapping stopped.

Robin glanced back over her shoulder, smirking knowingly. “You know, she’s probably gonna come by later.”

Steve froze, his fingers hovering mid-tap on the counter. He tried to play it cool, leaning back against the counter as he scoffed. “Who are you talking about?”

“Steve,” Robin warned, her tone dripping with the kind of exasperation that only came from knowing someone far too well.

He looked over his shoulder at her, feigning cluelessness. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Robin rolled her eyes so hard she probably saw the back of her skull. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. We both know who I mean.” She stacked the last tape on the shelf and crossed her arms, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Steve gave up the charade with a sigh, standing a little straighter. “Did she tell you she was coming by?” he asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“No,” Robin said, shrugging her shoulders. “But her car just parked outside.”

Steve’s head whipped around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. Sure enough, your car was pulling into the parking lot, and he couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face.

Robin snorted, shaking her head as she turned back to her work. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” she muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Outside, you parked your car in front of the video store, glancing at the plastic bag filled with tapes on your passenger seat. They were the ones Steve had recommended last time, and you’d watched every single one. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure you were interested in half of them—but you’d watched them anyway, just so you’d have something to talk about with him when you came back.

Adjusting the bag in your grip, you stepped out of the car, smoothing out your shirt as you walked toward the door. Through the window, you could see Steve at the counter, already looking in your direction with that trademark grin of his, the one that made your stomach do an annoying little flip.

You pushed open the door, the bell jingling softly as you stepped inside. “Hey,” you greeted, trying to keep your tone casual.

“Hey,” Steve said, his voice a little too eager as he straightened up.

Robin shot him a look over her shoulder, but she didn’t say anything—yet.

You walked up to the counter, setting the bag of tapes down. “I’m returning these,” you said, holding up the bag. “And, uh… I might need some more recommendations.”

Steve’s grin widened. “Oh, I’ve got a list,” he said, already leaning forward on the counter like you were the most interesting person in the world.

Robin groaned from the back. “You always have a list,” she called out, though her tone was more teasing than annoyed.

You laughed softly, and Steve looked back at Robin, narrowing his eyes. “Do you mind?” he said pointedly. “Some of us are working.”

Robin threw her hands up in mock surrender, retreating to the shelves. “Fine, fine. Just don’t scare her off, Harrington.”

Steve rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to you. “Don’t listen to her,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, his tone more conspiratorial. “She’s just jealous she doesn’t have my impeccable taste in movies.”

You smirked, resting your hands on the counter. “Well, let’s hear it, movie expert. What’s on the list?”

And as Steve began rattling off titles, complete with his over-the-top descriptions and reasons why this one is an absolute must-watch, you couldn’t help but smile. Even if you weren’t totally sold on his recommendations, you knew you’d be back—because it wasn’t really about the movies.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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queen-of-diamonds-xo · 2 months ago

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Broken Nails and Broken Promises

Eddie Munson x Reader

🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀

Summary:

Where Eddie Munson comes banging down Jim Hoppers door, desperate to fix you relationship. One he truly and entirely destroyed in a single moment.

Warnings:

angst! (I tried), Slight mention of cheating! Very minor mentions of violence! Eddie pining over reader! Slight father son bond between Hop and Eddie! I think that’s it!

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Y’all, it’s been a while! Now I know I’m late to the party however, Eddie Munson is one of my many fantasy husbands and I’ll be damned if you think I’m not going to change cannon just to bring him back. Hope y’all enjoy!

PART 2 HAS BEEN POSTED! “Shackled to you”

🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀🕷️🥀

Eddie Munson is a royal pain in Jim Hoppers ass. An annoying, persistent, smart ass prick. Shoplifting, DUI, petty theft, assault. You name it, Hopper has caught Eddie doing it. But to be fair, Hopper had always been soft on the boy. Usually slapping him in cuffs before circling around the block and releasing Eddie with a few choice words and threats of actual, serious consequences next time. Hopper was always met with Eddies wicked grin and a mock salute as the boy stalked into the night.

But, that little prick did help save the world, and yeah he did try to be a hero and sacrifice himself, winding him up in the hospital for three months. Which is why, when Eddie comes crashing through Hops door, at 6am, on a goddamn Sunday, Hopper was ready to strangle the curly haired devil and drop his body in the lake. But he was stopped with an exaggerated raise of Eddie's pointer finger in his face. Eddies other hand lay perched dramatically on his hip as the boy heaved, years of smoking and minimal cardio was enough to wind the poor stoner. Who moments earlier had barreled out of his van, not even bothering to turn the damn engine off. The machine wining angrily in the distance at the decision.

“Okay I fucked up. Big.” Eddie manages to wease out, his hands emphasising his words with an exaggerated flap.

“And I need your help. And! Before you say anything, please just.” He stopped, eyes wild, scanning the room, looking anywhere but at Jim. Breath coming out heavy through his notisriles, lip pulled tight between his teeth. Still pacing the worn floor his fingers fly through his thick hair, curling into a fist at the back of his scalp. The familiar burn as his rings tug the unruly strands proves enough to ground him. His eyes flick up to meet Hoppers, desperate and wild.

He pushed out an exasperated breath as he started again;

“Please just, let me explain.”

—————————————————-

16 hours earlier:

You has been so excited, giddy even. Staring down at your freshly manicured nails. The ends rounded into a perfect point, coated in a deep, shiny crimson. Eddies favourite colour. A striking black “E” applied so delicately to your ring nail.

You had saved for months; pocket money, coins foraged from the depths of sofas, completing odd tasks for neighbours and friends.

Griminising at the memory of deep cleaning Steve Harrintons car, a tasks that most definitely wasn’t worth the twenty bucks.

All in an effort to surprise Eddie. Your Eddie.

You two tended to have wild conversations in his trailer, legs tangled together in the sheets. Bodies entwined so perfectly it’s as though you were made just to fit with him. ‘Sculpted from the gods like clay, moulded in their image’, thats what Eddie always said. It was one night, minds fizzy with a smoke filled haze, thoughts coming and going, bouncing between each other with smiles and quiet laughter. When he grabbed your hands in his, fingers tracing so delicately over yours.

“You know what would make you, like, even more breathtaking that you already are?” The boy pondered, that wicked grin encompassing his features,

“Oh. And what would that be, pretty boy?” You queried back, the nickname causing heat to rush to Eddies cheeks. His deep eyes meeting yours as he slowly lifted your hand closer to his face. You knuckles grazing lightly over his lips as he spoke.

“I’ve always been, distracted.” He hesitated, his lip becoming trapped by his teeth; “By a girls nails, you know?”

He answered his own question before you could speak.

“The way the look.” His free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, ever impossibly closer.

“The way they feel.” His breath hot in your ear sending a shock down your spine as you arched your back.

“wrapped around me, dragging down my back leaving your mark on me. Pushing into my neck.” He had to stop, eyes closing as he inhaled in your scent. Fingers curling into the soft flesh of your hip. Bodies so close, his everything encompassing yours. Twisting together into one.

“Just something that crosses my mind is all sweetheart.” He nuzzles into your neck, stumble tickling your soft skin. Mouth inching closer to your neck, the area tensing as your heartbeat crashes against your eardrums.

Yeah, that night. That was the night you made your decision and began hatching your plan.

You were going to get your nails done if it was the last thing you do. For Eddie.

Which is why when you found him, lent so casually against a pole, with Crissy fucking Cunninghma’s tounge down his throat. He left hand pressed firmly on his chest, a perfectly manicured French tip of her right grazing his cheek. One single finger nail dragging down his neck. The fucker leaning into her touch, chin lifting to grant her more access.

Well, you lost your shit. Stalking up to the pair, reaching our to practically rip the petite blondes body away from his. Shoving her away, your brain went into overdrive, letting emotion take hold. Fist flying in the air before you could even comprehend your actions, colliding hard with the left side of Crissy’s dumb, perfect face. Her body hit the ground with a hard thud, a small steam of blood flowing slowly from the girls bottom lip. You sieved in anger, letting the emotion corse through your veins.

He had tried to explain, even dropping to his knees as he pleaded, begged. Hands clasped firmly together as he tried to be heard. But you weren’t listening, angry words spitting from your mouth in a hot rage. Crissy had come to Eddie to purchase from his illicit business. The girl practically coiled herself around him, limbs encompassing his like a cobra. She had tried to convince Eddie to allower her to pay him in a other way. Before he would refuse her lips were on his, stained with strawberry lipgloss.

He didn’t want this. But he didn’t stop her. He couldn’t, feet glued in place as his brain stopped communicating with his body. And that’s how you found him. Your anger was justified, of course he knew that. But what he didn’t expect was for you to just leave, to turn on your heels and walk away, as he sits on his knees in the dust.

“Princess. Please.” He pleaded, to wrecked to even pick himself up. One arm stretching slowly in your direction. Rind glad fingers grasping at the empty pace between you.

You turn, and for a moment, the boy has hope. He looks up at you, tears falling from his darkened eyes, staining his red face with hot tears. His arm lands pathetically in his lap, waiting, hanging on your every word.

You throw something at him. The impact as patietic as he feels as the small object bounces off his chest. His eyes darting to the small, burgundy oval, tip filed to a perfect point. A crack runs through a prominent ‘E’ in dark black block font. The letter stars up at him accusingly.

“You.” You point another sharp nail in his direction, his eyes widening in surprise at the new extension. “You, Edward Muson. Are an asshole. And I never want to see your face again.”

As you walked away Eddie slammed his palm over his lips. Wiping angrily at the lingering remnants of pink sparkled lipgloss. The sweet sticky substance clinging to his skin, mocking him as the sparkles engrave themselves into the deep filberts of his jeans. His stomach twisting and throat burns as electric stomach bile rises. He spits violently, doubling over onto his hands and knees and he gags and cries. The content of his stomach landing in front of him in a wet, steaming heap. And Eddie swear he will never taste strawberries again.

Eddie tried to talk to you. If only he could explain. If only he could just see your face again, even if it’s for the last time. To touch your face, to kiss your soft lips. Ones that taste of Vanilla Coke and dark chocolate, a deep lingering of smoke cutting through all your sweetness. He called what feels like a hundred times. Even drove to your house, which he found dark and empty.

No, he needs to see you again. He needs to hear your voice. He needs to explain. To say he’s sorry.

—————————————

So that’s how Eddie ended up in Chief detective Jim Hoppers living room at 6am on a goddam Sunday morning. Pacing the floor in a chaotic and unhinged fashion, long arms flailing around him, har bouncing wild with his movements. He hadn’t slept, too caught up in his plan. His plan to get you back.

Eddie knew that if you didn’t want to interact with someone, they would never know you even existed. Which is why he also knew that words wouldn’t work in you. No, actions speak louder than words.

Jim sits in his armchair, head placed heavily in his hands. Eyes screaming at him for sleep, head pounding as Eddies words bounce around his skull. Reverberating off every bone.

As Eddies words stop, his story coming to an end. He looks at Hopper, arms pressed harsh against his sides as he waits on the older man’s reaction.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about this?” The man grunts, annoyance and fatigue evident in his tone.

For the first time in a long time, Eddies thoughts screeched to a halt. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know where you are. And most importantly he doesn’t know why he even came here. Jim hoppers house of all places, to beg the older man to help him.

The feeling claws at him, the scars etched deep in his skin burn. A reminder of the battles he fought in the past. Of the people he saved, the ones he brought back, and the ones he lost along the way.

Eddies wasn’t about to lose you to.

No way.

No. Fucking. Way.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #Eddie muson x reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham

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aurescentia · 18 days ago

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Thinking Thoughts about video game designer Eddie accidentally (unintentionally) putting a Steve lookalike in his game.

The kids... notice.

Steve only finds out when Dustin and Lucas are play testing the game before Eddie hands off a pitch for potential funding.

Steve and Eddie aren't even friends yet.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"Dude, watch it," Lucas mumbles, knocking his shoulder into Dustin's. "Don't kill him before the checkpoint."

"Oh, sorry. How silly of me!" Dustin mutters back, hunching closer to the screen.

"Of course I'm trying to keep Steve alive. Stop backseating and wait your turn."

Steve can practically hear the eye rolls ping-ponging around their side of the room.

Mere moments later, they both let out an exasperated groan and start arguing in earnest as Steve walks over to them, curiosity piqued.

"Dude!! You killed Steve! I just told you to be careful!"

"Obviously I was trying," Dustin grits out, annoyed, "but you kept distracting me!"

"Alright, I'll bite. Why am I dead?" Steve asks, stepping up unnoticed behind them.

They both whip around so fast they nearly knock heads as they look up at Steve, embarrassed.

"Uh."

"Wow, I like- completely forgot you were here," Dustin says, unperturbed.

Like Steve wasn't the one to give him a lift here twenty minutes ago.

"Gee, thanks," Steve says, rolling his eyes. From this vantage, above them at Lucas' desk, he can see the screen they had just been arguing over.

Dropping between them, forcing both to squawk and get out of the way as Steve leans toward the screen. He has to get closer to make sure he's seeing this right.

It's... him. Sort of. A miniature, pixelated version of himself, slumped over, dressed in old timey knight-in-shining-armor shit, his sword leaned on the wall beside him.

He doesn't want to be conceited or anything, but the likeness is... undeniable. Tawny hair, smattering of tiny speck freckles. Hazel eyes that muddle into a greenish gold in pixelated form.

It's Steve, undoubtedly. Dead, with a sword through his heart.

He turns back to Dustin and Lucas, pointing blindly at the monitor.

"Why am I- why is that me?"

They shoot each other looks from over Steve's shoulder, mouths working as they search for a delicate way to phrase it.

"Well... It's not you, explicitly," Dustin starts slowly.

"Or legally. He's legally distinct from you!" Lucas adds, nodding frantically.

"Right, his name's not even actually Steve," Dustin says furtively.

"It's Severian, which he absolutely stole from Shadow of the Torturer, but he said he'd-"

"Gonna stop you right there, Henderson," Steve says, cutting him off before he could go off on some tangent long enough to bore him into distraction.

"Who is this he and why the fuck would he put me/not me into his game?"

Steve has a hunch. More than a hunch, actually. A bone-deep sureness that he needs confirmed about their 'cool, older game designer' friend that they loved to prattle on about all the fucking time.

"Eddie?" Dustin says, visibly cringing.

"But he doesn't know we call his character Steve. I don't think he even realizes it's one-hundred percent, undeniably you," Lucas hurries to clarify.

"It's just an in-joke. Something stupid we do," Dustin adds, nodding his agreement.

Eddie fucking Munson.

They weren't even friends. Not really.

So why did Munson, evidently without realizing, make a whole ass game with Steve as the protagonist?

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

now with a part 2 and more 2 cum.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #capital g Gamer Eddie Munson #steddie microfic

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solarmorrigan · 2 years ago

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I've seen fics and headcanons with Dustin being annoyed by Steve trying to/succeeding in flirting with Eddie, but never really the other way around. So how about instead of being frustrated by Steve "Flirts With Everything That Moves" Harrington trying to hit on his cool new older male friend, Dustin is exasperated by Eddie "Gay Disaster" Munson trying to get with his original older male friend

Dustin: Can you not??

Dustin: He's basically my brother

Dustin: I'm pretty sure this is against some kind of guy code

Eddie: All guy codes go out the window when the person in question is that hot

Dustin: Ew. Also that is incredibly disloyal

Dustin: Also you suck

Eddie: I mean, if I'm lucky-

Dustin: DON'T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE

#I just think it would be a fun change of pace #steddie #dustin & steve #dustin & eddie #dustin henderson #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote

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orellazalonia · 5 days ago

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Catnapped

Summary: A mercenary tries to kidnap “the weird cat that’s always with the Avengers.” They succeed. Ten minutes later, you're back in human form, sitting on their escape van holding a taser with an exasperated Bucky arriving at the scene. (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Word Count: 800+

Main Masterlist | Original Fic

It was supposed to be a low-stakes surveillance mission.

You’d volunteered to go in cat form since it was easy to sneak past cameras, no need for disguises, and plus you got to nap in sunny windowsills while pretending to spy. Win-win.

Bucky had explicitly told you: “Stay within two blocks. If you get caught, don’t be a smartass. Just shift and call me.”

Naturally, you ignored the second part.

Because when a low-rank merc saw you napping behind a weapons stash near the docks, they scooped you up with a triumphant laugh like they’d just bagged a diamond.

“Well well well,” He cooed, holding you up by your scruff. “Aren’t you the weird little furball that’s always following Barnes around?”

You squinted at him. Then casually went limp like a floppy stuffed animal.

“Aw, no fight? You’re comin’ with me.”

He stuffed you into a duffel bag with air holes. That part was annoying. It smelled like sweat and beef jerky.

You waited precisely six minutes. Let them get all nice and cocky.

The merc’s van was parked in an alley. There were three of them: your scruffy friend, a bored woman chewing gum in the passenger seat, and a guy in the back watching TikToks on full volume. Truly, the elite.

“Barnes’ll lose his mind when he finds out we got his freaky little shapeshifter cat,” One muttered. “Think it’s got powers?” “It drooled on my boot.” “…so no.”

You rolled your eyes, managed to unzip the top of the duffel bag enough, then shifted.

And emerged: human, pissed, and holding a taser.

“Hi,” You said sweetly.

The driver shrieked as you zapped him square in the thigh. The woman reached for her gun but you launched the taser at her head. TikTok guy screamed and dove out the back of the van.

When Bucky finally arrived (having sprinted three blocks after you triggered your location beacon), he found you sitting on the hood of the van, sipping one of the merc’s energy drinks, completely calm.

The three would-be kidnappers were zip-tied and groaning.

Bucky skidded to a stop, blinking. “You good?”

You nodded. “They tried to catnap me.”

He paused. “Catnap. Really?”

“…Had to.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Why didn’t you just shift and call me?”

“I wanted to see how it played out.”

He looked at the van. Then back at you. “You could’ve easily gotten away.”

“I needed a dramatic entrance,” You shrugged. “Very effective.”

He just shook his head and muttered, “I swear to God, one day I’m gonna leash you.”

You smirked. “You say that like I wouldn’t love the attention.”

He walked off muttering expletives while you followed behind, smug and victorious, sipping your stolen drink like the chaos goblin you were.

Back at the Avengers compound, things got out of hand immediately.

You only meant to tell Steve. Just a quick, offhand “Hey, I got kidnapped in cat form today, tased a guy. All good now.” Casual stuff.

Steve blinked. “You what.”

Five minutes later, a full team meeting had been called.

You sat on the conference table, lazily batting at a paperclip while Bucky stood in the corner, arms crossed, visibly trying not to explode.

“…So just to confirm,” Tony said, barely holding back laughter, “You voluntarily let yourself be captured, didn’t call for backup, and waited in a gym bag until you could do a dramatic transformation and taser reveal?”

You nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Iconic,” said Sam, already typing something on his phone. “Absolutely saving this.”

Wanda floated a bag of chips over to you with a grin. “Next time, give me a heads-up. I want popcorn for the sequel.”

Bucky groaned. “Can we not turn this into a thing?”

“Too late,” Sam replied, dropping his phone onto the table.

On the screen? A meme of you photoshopped onto a “Missing Cat” poster, with Bucky’s face underneath and the caption: “If found, do NOT return. She bites.”

You snorted. “Okay, that’s good.”

Tony added fuel to the fire. “FRIDAY, note to install mini GPS on the shapeshifter’s collar.”

“I’m not wearing a collar,” You said firmly.

“Too bad,” Bucky muttered. “You’re gonna end up on a milk carton one of these days.”

“Is that still a thing?”

Steve tried to be serious, bless him. “You do need to be more careful. That could’ve gone really badly.”

You tilted your head innocently. “But it didn’t.”

Bucky, pinching the bridge of his nose: “That is not a defense strategy!”

And then, just to spite him, you shifted into cat form mid-sentence, leapt into his lap, and started purring obnoxiously.

He stiffened. “Don’t.”

You meowed sweetly and curled up like a loaf.

“You’re making this worse.”

Wanda took a picture. “She’s making it better.”

Later that night, Bucky found you asleep in your cat form at the foot of his bed. Still smug. Still slightly damp from your shower earlier.

He sighed, pulled a blanket over you, and muttered, “Absolute menace.”

Then paused.

“…My menace.”

You twitched your tail in victory.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel fic #bucky barnes fic #marvel x reader #bucky x you #Cat!reader

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belokhvostikova · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Your secret fling with Eddie Munson hadn't gone entirely under wraps, particularly to the know-it-all, Dustin Henderson. With the help of Robin and Steve, the three conspire to reveal the truth, resulting in two of the most awkward people going on a date together...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, slight crying, alcohol consumption, awkwardness, insecurities, closeted sexuality, implied coming out, secret relationship, and some explicit sexual content: fondling, mention of porn, mention of oral, and unprotected vaginal sex (fairly minor, not the focal point).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This piece has literally been sitting in my Google Docs since June 26th, because when rewatching Friends, I though it would be a cute idea for a fic, so you'll see a lot of lines and parallels from the episode (season 5, episode 14). It's devastatingly unfortunate Matthew Perry passed when I was finishing this up. So, in memory of him and a toast to friendship, here is this fic. Be safe, appreciate life, and enjoy <3 I love you all.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“Did you guys see that?!” A pointed finger of accusation was targeted against Eddie Munson, completely oblivious to his knowledge.

Steve Harrington had grimaced at the mush that was once a solid cheeseburger residing inside the slobbery mouth of Dustin Henderson, as the kid spoke with such urgency, clearly unperturbed by his lack of food etiquette and social decorum. But such skills could not be expected much from Dustin Henderson. That is unless, of course, an actual adult of authority had been in the presence, to which a gummy smile was expected to assuage whatever insulting comment about the need for manners that “The Hair” would proffer in disgust.

It was the second Saturday in a row that Steve’s been bombarded by the abuse of the children to let his residence be used for a pool party. He doesn’t understand how exactly he lost the backbone to say no to four teenagers, but the phenomenon had manifested into reality, and at the very least, a compromise was made for the young adults—of whatever weird mesh of a friend group this was between older teens, younger teens, crossover shebang—to tag along for a hot afternoon of relaxation.

“Yeah, Eddie’s hair totally looks like a wet mop.” Max Mayfield snickered between her sips of a twisty-straw-in-lemonade action. In truth, seeing lushes locks of black stick to his face and neck was quite amusing, especially when made worse as the metalhead re-calibrated like a dog, shaking his hair as a means of getting rid of the chlorine water that weighed down his head. One that could always get a good chuckle out of anyone.

“No! Not that! That!” The ghost trail that was of Eddie Munson walking inside the Harrington villa, as pointed to by Dustin as a means of evidence, did little to provide any context of support to whatever it was he was avowing about this time. In many instances, those close to him knew to just let his diatribes continue without interference. The kid’s standards were impossibly high; people’s mistakes of simple wrongdoings were always criticized by his superiority. ‘“Oh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick.’” Dustin mimicked, mocking the voice of his Dungeon Master with dramatic gestures of flailing arms. A testament surely to get his character killed in next week’s campaign, should he have been caught by the man.

“Yeah, Dustin, that’s kinda, like, a natural occurrence in life.” Mike Wheeler deadpanned with a patronizing voice to annoy, as it’d been known to exasperate his friend. It’d even gained a couple laughs from the lounging bodies strewn about in the breadth of the gardened backyard.

Lucas Sinclair had jumped at the opportunity to prod further, barking a deafening cackle. “Yeah, remember that bomb you dropped after the school’s attempt to serve enchiladas?” He slapped his knee with joy. “You had the janitor running from the stalls!”

That one really got a good laugh out of everyone. But before Max could even venture at an attempt to cater for further details, Dustin struck on offense to defend his honor from the sharings of his intimate privacy, definitively emphasized with an agitated tone of vexation. “No, no! You pinky swore that you’d never speak of it! Do I need to tell everyone what Erica found under your bed?!” Old reliable; blackmail, the bargain of a lifetime.

“The hell is under your bed, man?” Steve pondered, flipping a seared patty with a slab of American cheese ready to go. If it was anything like what was under his bed, he’d surely want no one to know.

“Nothing!”

“What I thought.” Dustin muttered with a glare, as Lucas shrunk in his chair to evade any potential threats of further questions that lay on the tips of his friends’ nosy tongues. “But again, that is not what I am talking about.”

Always the civil one out of the Wheeler clan, Nancy reassuringly stepped up to support her brother’s friend in need, settling everyone down. “We’re sorry, Dustin, go ahead.” It was to be expected she’d gain a heartfelt thank you from Dustin Henderson, himself, once the debacle simmered and the turbulence had passed. Nancy Wheeler always did have a special place in the kid’s big heart, particularly after the caring gesture of the 1984 Hawkins Middle’s Snow Ball Dance.

“How can you all be so blind?!” Dustin seethed. “You’re telling me none of you find it even a little suspicious that Eddie just so happened to go to the 'bathroom' right after Y/N’s excuse of wanting to 'change,' like, hello?!” He huffed. “They’re totally screwing!”

Dustin Henderson felt devastatingly vanquished when a unanimous vote of disbelieving what’s hurtled his way with no mercy. He felt useless- undermined. Like the bag of Fritos left behind when children would rather fight over Doritos or Sour Cream n’ Onion Lays, rather than appreciate the artistry of a simple corn chip, left alone and forgotten until a last resort when moms took too long to make dinner; never to be cherished in the dark corner of the bulk size box of Frito-Lays. Of course, they wouldn’t believe him. They didn’t witness what he had to tragically witness. He heard it so vividly. So hauntingly vivid. Sometimes, it kept the poor boy up at night. Last week- last Friday- Hellfire’s Friday, such an exhilarating night now befouled by the auditory version of what he learned in the ninth grade compulsory course of sexual education.

How naive of him to believe your actions stemmed from the kindness of your heart; offering your chauffeuring abilities to pick up the freshman after their campaigns, sauntering inside with a sickeningly sweet smile to pair with your tender greetings, and always wanting to lend a helping hand to the Dungeon Master, because “it just seems like so much to clean.” Puh-lease! The signs had been flashing in his face. The ulterior motives screaming in his ear. What sane person deliberately chooses to waste their time picking up three boys revved up with excitement and sweat after the thrills of Dungeons and Dragon? Jesus, shit, it was Friday night, don’t you have any plans?! Yeah, plans to stick your tongue down their Dungeon Master’s throat. Tainting the sanctity of Hellfire with your debauchery.

Dustin Henderson had forgotten his dice. Sometimes, he wishes he would have just let the damn things go.

“God, baby, a quickie- let’s just do it right here real quick.” Eddie’s begging voice vibrated behind the closed door of the drama department, seeping through the open cracks beneath the door, all for Dustin’s ears to hear.

And he tried to give him the benefit of the doubt- the kid really did. Pet names were far from unusual by use of Eddie Munson. The one instance the Byers dropped back into Hawkins during Spring Break, it was no doubt Will the Wise had to get a taste of the new man running the show, and when Eddie had given Byers the innocent compliment of being such a sweetheart, the kid blushed into oblivion, stuttering a thank you in return. Hell, not to mention the infamous “big boy” that followed Steve Harrington around wherever the man took on motherly duties. So, Dustin brushed it off. But the moment had quickly transpired into something cringe worthy to the fourteen-year-old who didn’t know better. It should have been his cue to run, but the fiery design of his dice cost him six bucks of his chores earning, and they weren’t about to be discarded, as if the sweat of his forehead meant nothing from an afternoon of bending over the mop bucket to clean the kitchen floors.

There are moments at night when he speculates if this is the doings of the heavenly man above that his beloved, Suzie Bingham, always mentioned; punishing Dustin in consequence of eavesdropping on a private matter that surely was not intended to be heard. But can you really call it eavesdropping when you were merely trying to retrieve your dice? No! You can’t!

“They’re already waiting for me in the car.” You whined against his lips. The figurine that was poking your hip was the last thing accounted for in your mind, as Eddie had showcased you onto the wooden table of the prop room. Lips smeared against yours, his hand had squeezed a chunk of your meaty thigh, bringing you forth to keep you in close company. “We can’t.” Can’t what, huh? Find the dignity to do it outside of school grounds?! Freaks!

“Little shits.” Dustin had appallingly gasped at the insult, feeling the stabbing wound of betrayal hit him in the chest as you laughed along, hand clutched over his heart to appease the pain of such affliction. The dramatics. “Come to my place after.” Eddie delicately kissed loving pecks to your lips. “That way,” his finger trailed up your thigh, “we can have our alone time, and I can finally get a taste of that pretty pu-”

Dustin Henderson knew to run away at that point. Safe to say, the kid never got his dice back.

“Are you insane?!” Motherly hand on the hip, Dustin didn’t appreciate Steve’s disciplinary tone of voice, sounding too much like his mother, Ms. Claudia Henderson, for his liking, as everyone agreed with Harrington’s proclaimed delusion against the boy. “Munson doesn’t have the skills to screw, let alone someone as hot as her.” He chuckled in disbelief.

Oh, boy, was he wrong.

“Mm, j-just like that, uh!” Your pelvis pummeled into the sink, tainting the precisely picked pristine porcelain by Mrs. Harrington, herself, as Eddie rutted his hips into the dampness that was your bikini bottoms to chase a release that was on the brink of snapping.

It was your fault he claimed; prancing in a top and bottom that left little to the imagination. Accusations of your outfit being chosen to taunt him were thrown your way, and your faux innocence only cemented it further. “Fuck- fucking take it—ugh, s-shit—take this fucking cock!” How could this ever be seen as a punishment when your boyfriend was lighting your body on fire with the ecstasy of abusing your g-spot?

Perhaps having sex in the bathroom of your mutual friend was far from the ethical rules of friendship, but the act of secrecy had bred a burning excitement that neither of you could contain. And, given the fact that four weeks ago, Steve had poked fun at Eddie’s singleness—not that Steve had any room to joke, though, at least, “The King” was relishing in the funness of meaningless hookups, something Eddie surely didn’t partake in, he lovingly had you—so seeking revenge in fucking his hot girlfriend in his friend’s bathroom had stirred something menacing in Eddie’s head to truly not give a single care in what he was doing was wrong.

“Yes! Yes! I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Fingers tightening on the edge of the sink, your heart soared watching the reflection of Eddie’s mouth panting with want, as he fucked your pussy, ready to release his load deep inside. His hands had snaked to grab handfuls of your bouncing tits, groaning as he felt your nipples poke through the coldness of your wet bikini top.

His hips harshly snapped against your rippling ass. “Cum all over my cock- shit! C’mon, pretty girl, fucking soak me- take all o’ me!” It barely felt as though he was pulling out, merely drilling in deeper and deeper. “I’m gonna cum- fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”

“They are totally screwing!” The curls of Dustin Henderson’s head were on the verge of being ripped out in frustration; all that work he so earnestly dedicated night and day to maintain the silky bounce was about to be all for nothing. “They are! I heard them!”

Wrong choice of words. “You were listening to them screw?!” Robin gagged, triggering an onslaught of ew’s and perv’s- well, really, Max Mayfield had been the only one calling her friend a perv, doing it in the relaxation of her lounging chair, teasing behind her newly gifted heart-shaped sunglasses.

“No! No!” Dustin shouted in clarification. “I wasn’t listening! I heard them talking about it!” He agonized. “They’ve been doing it for at least a week! Behind our backs!”

“Oh!” Max ventured. “Let’s bet, I say they’ve been engaged for four months, and are pregnant!” She heckled, now clearly just taking the piss out of him.

“Has the water gone from your ears to your brain?” Robin laughed in his face. Surely the kid was mistaken, right? Aside from her personal himbo—Steve hated the nickname—you and Nancy Wheeler had become her newfound best friends. You know, a united front against the boys, girl talk, the whole shebang about girl code? Secrets weren’t a thing between your three! Granted, Robin, herself, was harboring a pretty large secret that only her himbo knew of, but that was different! Boys were nothing, she would gladly hear about all her friends’ boy problems, indulging in the drama of long distance or whatever the hell there was to complain about, but girls?! Yeah, that was, uh, that was just something- a topic still unbreached… at least, until she was ready.

“Fine!” The boy heaved, bailing out on defending his stance any further. “You guys don’t wanna believe, that’s just fine.” He snided. “But when they come back, and Y/N hasn’t changed out of her bathing suit, you won’t be laughing now!” Dustin Henderson ended his tirade with an embittered bite to his burger, dramatically dropping into his pool chair.

They’d all learn soon, and bow down to him.

So now, everyone waited. Waited for the fateful moment that would either prove Dustin Henderson right or wrong. And unfortunately- for you and Eddie, at least, your steamy escapade on the sink of the Harrington bathroom had left you too dazed and forgetful in the post-orgasmic bliss that was heavy breaths and loving touches of aftercare to keep up with the said excuse of “changing out of wet clothes” that got you alone with Eddie Munson in the first place. So when you marched out, glowing and relaxed—exactly two minutes and thirty-four seconds after Eddie’s “bathroom break” (so thoughtfully executed)—in the same damp bikini that had your secret boyfriend riled up to begin with, everyone gasped.

“What?” You looked around confused.

Unbeknownst to you, Dustin Henderson took a cheesy bite of his burger, loudly sipping a carbonated gulp of his cold Coke, ready to snap his fingers for another round of meals for his peasant friends to fetch.

He was right.

Robin Buckley confirmed it next.

That Monday to come, Robin was staggering over the words of Dustin Henderson, and trying to piece the evidence presented to understand what was transpiring in your double life. The events after your return from “changing” left you confused by the jarring stares of six pairs of eyes testing you. Nancy, with the softest approach, had questioned you on the lack of new clothes on your body, to which your knight in shining armor—or accomplice—stepped up to save you from the army of prodding friends. “A knot in my hair, yeah, I distracted her to help me get a knot out of my hair.” Sure, Eddie, sure.

During the uproarious minutes of lunchtime, you’d been ready to get an afternoon break from school to fork through Hawkins High’s poor excuse as to what constitutes consumable food, when the sudden scrutiny from Robin Buckley began. And, my god, was she persistent.

In the comical marching band she suited, Robin Buckley had rushed her attempt to the first approach. “Hey, Robs. You think I can borrow your notes for Civics, I-”

“So, I hear Jonathan’s coming back from California next week!” Something about rashly eating the served cut peaches seemed to play up to the normal act Robin was going for, but truthfully, it just made you eye her strange behavior weirdly.

“Oh.” You accepted the out-of-nowhere information. Maybe you won’t do so good on Mr. Vortroski’s test on Supreme Court cases as you originally thought. “That’s great for Nance-”

“Isn’t it?!” The enthusiasm she was exerting was truly taking it over the top. But Robin Buckley had a heart for caring, and perhaps the excitement for her friend was really bubbling up today. “Nancy said they’ve been planning, like, a lot of dates, you know, to catch up on lost time?” You casually nodded along. “Single dates, double dates… and then I was thinking, hey!” She perked. “Y/N’s young and good looking! She’s probably seeing someone! So are you, I don’t know, seeing someone? Anyone? Tall, dark hair? Anyone?”

“Uh…” Yeah, maybe the hastiness of Robin’s impetuous nature wasn’t the best route to go with. “No, um, no I’m not seeing anyone.” You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nance and Jonathan are gonna have to find someone else to double date with- oh, maybe Steve! What’s that girl's name he’s been seeing, Brenda? Beatrice? Actually, you know what, it’ll probably be really awkward to ask your ex-boyfriend on a double date with your current bo-”

“You’re seriously not seeing anyone?!” Robin’s brows furrowed with frustration. You were lying to her face- you were lying straight to your best friend’s face! “Nobody? No one?” You begrudgingly shook your head. “No thing?”

“Robin,” you chuckled, “is there something you want to tell me?” There were lots of things Robin Buckley wanted to tell you. Like, for starters, the newfound revelation that she likes how she looks with mascara, after you left yours on the dresser of her bedroom during your sleepover two weeks ago. She had no plans of returning it back to you, either. Or, possibly the fact that Bridget—the actual name of Steve’s newest lover—stole his Farrah Fawcett hairspray- or the fact that Steve uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray. Maybe the other thing, as in the strange occurrence that happens to her heartbeat whenever Vickie from chemistry happens to be around. Or, the other other thing, like the fact that she spent an obscene amount of minutes staring at cover of “Scissoring with Seduction” starring Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond, after organizing the adult films section at Family Video- actually, scratch that, she’d never tell a soul about that, not even Steve Harrington.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” She shot back with fervency.

“No…?” Your questioning answer had your friend igniting her dramatic flare, slumping in her seat with a defeated huff. Dustin Henderson would surely be owed a duly apology. At this point, you’d like to say this weirded you out, but you lived in Hawkins, Indiana. You’ve seen weirder.

Evidently not sufficed with your response, your friend sat up onto perched elbows. “Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right?” A sincere approach. Undoubtedly better. “Like, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff. I won’t judge or anything.” Robin solemnly smiled at you.

Your tender hand squeezed her arm. “I know.” You beamed. “I hope you know that the same goes for you, Robs. If you ever have anything you need to tell me, I’ll always be here to listen to you. Probably give you way better advice than Stevie.” You both chuckled at the expense of Steve Harrington. Robin Buckley understood the feeling of not being ready for the world to know, because knowing would change the dynamics of life, and having the world suddenly perceive you in a way they never have before was scary.

Having the world hate you for the tender love you caressed your partner with was terrifying.

You’d tell her when you were ready, just as she would with you.

With a nod to her head, she patted your hand. “You know, I asked Steve once on tips to upgrade my look, and he legit told me to do my eyebrows like Pamela Anderson.”

“The himbo, himself, is too unknowledgeable to know that Miss Anderson is the only one capable of pulling off the blonde bombshell look. Though, I would love to see him with pencil brows and blue eyeshadow.” You both laughed, before you reached over to pinch her chin. “Plus, your beautiful self doesn’t need any changing, Robs. Anyone would be lucky to wake up next to it.”

Yeah, she’d simply tell you when she was ready, just as you would with her.

By three o’clock, Robin Buckley had been worn down by the insufferable compulsion that was Mr. Heizer’s fifth period calculus class. With the last day of school being around the corner, Robin wondered what warranted Heizer’s balding head to be so miserable that he felt the need to subject his students with the abuse of derivatives. Trudging her feet against the pavement of the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve Harrington had came into view, where he brandished himself atop the hood of his car. Not the most irregular of sights, given the systemic routine of drop off and pick-up that had been structured for Monday through Friday, though today, Dustin Henderson had managed to find Steve’s BMW through the array of parked cars, and was found yapping his ear off.

So sorely critical-looking, Robin couldn’t help but tiredly chuckle. “What’s with the wrinkles, kid?” She approached.

Dustin huffed, letting his arms dramatically drop to his side in desperation. “Steve won’t go along with my plan!”

“What are you even doing here, Dustin, isn’t your mother, like, first in line at the car riders pick-up?” She laughed.

Steve exasperated. “He waved off his poor mother, like the lunatic he is, just to track me down and tell her I was giving him a ride!” He answered, propelling Dustin to gasp with a snide.

“So we can talk about the plan!” Dustin provoked the Italian—that he probably didn’t actually have—within him, as his loose fist shook in Steve’s vicinity.

“What plan?” Robin interjected.

“The plan to expose Y/N and Eddie!” Dustin stressed.

“Eddie and Y/N are not screwing.” Steve deadpanned. “What happened Saturday was just… some fluke coincidence, not proof to anything, okay? So let it go, Dustin. Just face it, you were wrong.” He chuckled a very much unappreciated chuckle in Dustin’s face.

“I am not wrong! I know what I heard! How many times do I have to be right on the money for you all to just trust me?!” Neither Steve or Robin appreciated the numerous stares the freshman was gathering from leaving classmates and faculty.

“Okay, just calm down, alright.” Robin shushed. “You're right-”

“Ha!”

“But I don’t think we should do anything.” Dustin heaved, scowling at Robin as if she just committed sacrilege.

“Are you crazy? Of course, we should totally do something!” Dustin retorted. “This is big news! Two of our best friends are dating! You know what this means?! I could have parents, Robin, and you know I don’t have a dad, do you really want to be the reason I never have a dad?” A pointed finger targeted her.

Her hand worked swiftly to smack his accusing finger away. “Eddie is not your dad, Christ, he’s not dating your mom.” She annoyingly sighed.

“Yeah, and also, I’ve known you for way longer. If anyone’s gonna be your dad, it’s gonna be me, not Munson.” Steve exhorted with ire.

Dustin mockingly laughed. “Please, you and mother have the same hips.”

Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson were too engrossed in their conversation to bring any of their attention to Steve Harrington’s insulted gasp. “Look, Dustin, I already tried asking Y/N about it, and she’s just not ready to talk about it.” She explained. “Let’s just drop it until they’re ready to tell us.”

“Okay, but we can help them talk about it.” The kid returned with retaliation. “You know how great it was to see Nancy and Jonathan finally get together?”

“Which came at my expense, by the way.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t know why that brings you such joy.”

“Well, this is Y/N and Eddie, it’s even bigger!” Dustin smiled. “Look, all I’m saying is that a little encouragement never hurt anybody.” Call the boy annoying, he already knew that, but his intentions were coming from good faith. The notion of helping his friends find love- or more so express it, had him bubbling with excitement. “And the only way to get this love story rolling is if we get them to crack.”

Steve groaned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, we have to make them break first.” Dustin was beginning to get his crazy eyes, something about conspiring a plan had him menacingly smirking his enthusiastic grin. “You know, trick them into telling us.”

Robin sighed, drilling the palm of her hands into her eyes. “Okay, you know what? Do whatever you like, Dustin, but I will not be a part of this plan.”

“Of course, you will!” Dustin implored with desperate hands grabbing at her arms to shake with emphasis. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to flirt with Eddie.”

Robin and Steve blurted in disbelief. “What?!”

“Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it.” Dustin rationalized.

“Woah, woah, wait a second, what makes you think she wouldn’t go for me?” Steve plowed on, his ego taking an obvious hit by a child six years his age. “I’m a total catch, the ladies love me!” He argued. “And Robin, she can’t flirt with Eddie, she’s… uh, well, she- she just can’t!” He stepped up to try to help his friend, much to Robin’s appreciation.

Dustin sighed, placing a tender hand upon Steve’s shoulder. “Look, Steve, you gotta get over this crush you have on Robin-”

“I do not have a crush on Robin!” Steve flung Dustin’s arm away. “And back to this ‘Y/N not going for me’ thing, I can totally flirt with her to get her to crack!”

Dustin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he was the adult in this situation. “Steve, c’mon, she calls you himbo behind your back, she probably thinks you have no personality.”

“I have personality!”

“No, you have hair!”

In the midst of the commotion, Eddie Munson had sauntered his way out of the double doors, cigarette in hand to relinquish the stress brought upon him throughout the day. Despite the matter that his van had been haphazardly parked on the west end of the parking lot for reasons being that your pretty self always used the end doors for the less crowded purposes—sue him, he loved the view—there was always something about Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson arguing that always brought happy entertainment for the metalhead.

“Trouble in paradise?” His croaking voice startled the group, as they all looked at him stunned. “Jesus Christ, what’s with the faces?” Eddie laughed, as his cigarette scraped along the wetness of lips.

“N-Nothing.” Robin awkwardly had to offer, forcing Eddie to raise a brow at her.

And then he spoke. Dustin fucking Henderson spoke. “Actually! Uh, R-Robin what were you saying about Eddie just now?” She snapped a deadly glare back at him, to which he gladly challenged with a grating smile that had Steve quietly laughing in the back.

“You talkin’ about me behind my back, Buckley? C’mon, I thought we were friends.” Eddie lightly jabbed, as he paid more attention to his lighter, which was taking multiple rounds of clicks until it ignited.

“Nothing.” She assured. “I said nothing.”

“No, no, you were saying something about his outfit.” Dustin encouraged. God, how ethical was it to beat up a child? “About how he… looks nice.”

Robin sighed, as Eddie gave her a lighthearted smile. “Thanks, Rob, I’m really liking those patches.” He pointed to her sweater, finding nothing but the innocence of friendship in her supposed compliment.

“A-And something about his large muscles.” A curl of his hair was absentmindedly twirled as to appear uninvolved in the scheme of his mischief, and right as Eddie’s eyes left Dustin with a confused stare, the kid’s arm shoved Robin’s back to coach her further.

So, Robin Buckley, simply accepted. Though, tapping into her retired career of one year in drama club when she got the gracious role of playing Mrs. Soames in last year's production of Our Town proved to lack any skills training, when attempting to flirt with Eddie Munson had her stuttering like a child learning to speak. Then again, playing Mrs. Soames in Our Town didn’t exactly require her to flirt with her friend’s secret boyfriend who was a man!

“Y-Yeah, Eddie, uh, that m-material.” Robin bunglingly smiled, as a stiff hand touched the leather of his coat. “O-Oh, well, hello, Mr. B-Bicep.” She mentally prepared herself for the moment Steve Harrington would belittle her to death for her lack of flirting skills whenever this mess was over. “You’ve been, uh, working out?”

Attempting to give her the benefit of the doubt, Eddie chose to assuage the painful discomfiture with his casual sarcasm. “Ah, well, I try to, y’know, squeeze things.” Eddie recoiled at her over-the-top laugh that appeared too similar to that of Heidi Wilson’s, when she ran into him and Steve in the food court of Starcourt Mall last week, looking to allure his friend with whatever screech that was. “You okay?”

“Uh-”

“She’s just having guy problems.” Dustin interjected, much to Robin’s dismay. Never. Never in a million years would Robin Buckley ever have guy problems. “Go on, tell him.”

Yeah, Dustin Henderson wouldn’t see the age sixteen. “Well, uh, you know how you’re s-sometimes just looking for something, a-and don’t even realize that it’s, um, right there in front of you... s-smoking a cigarette?”

Eddie looked down at the lit cigarette in his mouth, and quickly stepped back in panic, all while Steve Harrington’s cheeks puffed with laughter, as his sealed lips worked overtime to not guffaw out loud. “U-Um, yeah, okay, I’m gonna go.” Eddie could only spare a quick glance to Robin, before throwing everyone a small wave goodbye.

Robin Buckley watched him walk away for two seconds, before slowly turning to Dustin Henderson, where he was met with her twitching eye. “You have five seconds to run.”

His mouth fell gape. “But wait, Steve’s my ride-”

“Five!”

That Monday afternoon, Dustin Henderson spent forty-five grueling minutes walking the three mile hike to his home, as punishment per Robin Buckley’s request. And yes, she did wave him goodbye, when Steve Harrington’s BMW swiftly passed him on the way over.

Steve Harrington confirmed it next.

And maybe was a little asshole about it.

Benny’s Burger had become the choice of dinner for the mundane Monday night he was currently enduring, because Eddie Munson refused to hit up the bar, despite the common courtesy that buying beers had become for the twenty-year-old men. At the very least, greasy burgers with a cigarette to follow would be the accommodation Eddie Munson could offer, since Steve Harrington had lost his weekly hookup, because his personal wingman decided to fall into a secret relationship- presumably. Steve was choosing to balance on the fence of whether or not to believe the words of a fourteen-year-old, mostly because if he did, Steve Harrington would become subjected to the sanctimonious behavior of a cocky teenager.

And who would want that?

“Lemme do a double cheeseburger with extra pickles, uh, no tomatoes, please. Ooh, with a side of cheese fries, a strawberry shake, and I’ll get that with a Coke, too. Thanks, Benny.” Steve eyed his friend. God, that man could eat. The bustling fan that chilled Benny’s sweaty neck had proffered a wonderful alternative to the sweltering humidity that tinted the large windows with fog. Aside from the burly trucker consuming the two cups of coffee to keep him awake for the night, Steve had all respective authority to slyly grill his buddy on whatever friends-with-benefits-slash-potential-boyfriend-girlfriend dynamic he shared with you.

Fuck it. “Uh, might as well do the same, Ben, what he said.” The laminated menu went unskimmed, closed off, and collected for the owner to take.

Assuring the boys their meals would follow out quickly, they met Benny with gracious thank you’s for the service, and Steve Harrington rashly followed the movements of the older gentleman, until his being was out of ear shot, promptly snapping his head back to his friend. “Why didn’t you wanna go to the bar tonight?!” If a sign as to why Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington were soulmates, for whatever reason, needed to be clearer than it already was, the incaution- not so subtle “subtle” approach was reason enough.

“Uh,” Eddie hummed, forcing Steve’s eyes to narrow in return, “I dunno, just didn’t wanna go for drinks tonight.” He shrugged, flicking at a sugar packet he had no intentions of using.

Steve raised a brow. “Really?”

The incredulous tone was quite too bitchy for Eddie’s liking, who merely scoffed. “Can’t a guy care about his liver?”

“Ed, there’s a pack of cigarettes hangin’ in your pocket.” Steve deadpanned. “Think organ functionality is the least of your worries.” Unwelcoming to the implied suspicion of accusation behind Steve’s comment, Eddie simply chose to stay silent, finding more interest playing with the provided condiments as trinkets for his entertainment. Steve rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I saw Myra at the laundromat not too long ago.” He scratched his clean shaven chin, playing into his nonchalant bit, that only left Eddie to raise his eyebrows in confusion as to where this was going. “She looked nice; got her hair done, these pretty, little braids, y’know, with the gold cuffs and whatnot.”

Eddie’s head lolled, enjoying the simple task of his finger tracing the obscured lines of the faux granite table top, when the ketchup label had been read to its entirety. “So?”

“So,” Steve emphasized, “you coulda called her up, y’know, tell her to meet you tonight. How long has it been since you’ve seen her- or any girl for that matter?” He slyly asked.

“Not interested.” Blunt and suffice, surely enough to ward off anymore of Steve’s prodding questions.

But Steve merely scoffed. “What, in girls anymore?”

And in true Eddie Munson fashion, a shit-eating grin consumed his face, devious smile lines and all, as he leaned on perched forearms to invade Steve’s space. “Aw, why? You interested, big boy?”

Yeah, this conversation would be going nowhere.

As the sparing minutes filled to meaningless conversations, their full course dinners made the quick arrival, and Steve pondered at the various ways a confession could be pummeled out of Eddie Munson’s mouth, which was currently being stuffed to the brim with mushing bites of each food group—minus the vegetables, this was Benny’s Diner after all. There was the ex-fling route, but clearly Eddie wasn’t looking to explore that again; good news for you, at least. That is if anything Henderson claimed was actually true. Little shit-

But wait a minute, that was it! What would Dustin Henderson do?!

He could still hear his grating voice. "Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it." As if. Steve Harrington could get you- hell, Steve Harrington could get anyone. Graduating out of the social hierarchy of high school totally hasn’t affected his game… totally. But digressing, if Dustin Henderson could scheme up a plan with no substance, Steve Harrington could, too. If anything, this would make so much more sense, given that Robin doesn’t even like boys. Dustin Henderson didn’t know anything, but Steve, yeah Steve Harrington was way more cunning than some snappy child with no regard for people’s business. Yeah, Steve Harrington could totally do this…

Eddie’s chewing slowed, brows cinched, as he wondered why the hell Steve Harrington had been silently smiling to himself for the past minute. And people saw him as a freak? Fucking weirdo.

“Hey, uh,” Steve cleared his throat, presumably back to being normal, allowing Eddie to continue to shove his face with a strawberry milkshake covered cheese fry, unperturbed by Steve’s judgemental grimace, “I’m thinkin’ of askin’ out Y/N.”

Suddenly caught in his throat, Eddie began coughing up the fry he just downed, as Steve smiled with such amusement at the torment he just caused his friend. Maybe Henderson was right. “W-What? You wanna what?”

“Yeah, been thinkin’ about it, and y’know, I’m really feeling her.” Steve cocked a smirk that had Eddie’s face scrunching with agitation. “Very smart, funny, really fucking pretty, so…”

“I d-don’t, um- you really think that’s a g-good idea?” Eddie adjusted in his seat, composing the bubbling feeling that stirred terribly with the monstrosity he had just eaten.

Taking a large bite from his burger, Steve grinned happily. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Hunger and entertainment wonderfully satiated on this peaceful, late Monday night.

Eddie shrugged, sulkingly throwing a stray pickle in his mouth. “I dunno, you’re just friends n’ all.” He mumbled.

“Oh!” Steve’s eyes gleamed with laughter behind them. “You don’t think friends should date-”

“No, no, no, no!” God, the last thing Eddie was about to do was inadvertently claim your relationship was some end all be all cataclysm, but did it really have to come at the expense of encouraging his friend to date his secret girlfriend?! “I-I mean, like, some friends c-can date, like, um, good friends-”

“So, me and Y/N?” Steve quietly chuckled to himself, as he watched Eddie fret with frustration.

“No- I mean, I dunno!” He exasperated, as Steve relished in his greasy food with a smile on his face. Eddie’s heart began sinking into his stomach. He understood how demeaning it would be to conclude you as the type to jump into Steve’s arms once he’d make the “inevitable” move. God, for once in his life someone with care to proffer promised him fundamental security, and there was no denying it, he felt. Felt it in your caressing hands, your saccharine words, your devoted kisses, your gentle touches- you touched with such love… at least, that's what it felt like. Does Eddie Munson even know love? He swallowed thickly. “D-Do you even think she would go for you-”

“I have personality!” Steve proclaimed, finger pointed and all, forcing Eddie to shove back in surrenderance, hands in the air, and a confused look to pair.

“Okay, I’m not sayin’ you don’t, geez.” Eddie clarified, as Steve huffed, raking a harsh hand through his Farrah Fawcett hairsprayed perfection. “J-Just maybe don’t. Like, um, i-if it doesn’t work out, it could get really bad between you two, a-and it would be fucking horrible not to have her in your life at all, you can’t lose her, man.”

Voice so small and eyes so distant, there was a deep inkling that perhaps Eddie was speaking his fears aloud. Because even in the greatness that was having the privilege of calling you his girlfriend, there was a world full of Steve Harringtons that could provide you with more than what any Eddie Munson ever could. Late at night, when the world could finally offer you both the peace to just be, entangled in arms and legs, Eddie would just stare at you and… know. Know that there is a feeling that scares the living shit out of him that he can’t feel for anyone else. A different type of feeling from the camaraderie of his club, who triumph against the evil of the universe. A different type of feeling from the shoulders he’s cried on of his uncle, because Eddie truly cannot thank him enough. You, you were a different type of feeling. One that left him just wanting to look at you, smell you, touch you, think of you all day.

This wasn’t just infatuation, god, it felt like pure fucking lo- shit, what would he know. Eddie Munson didn’t know love.

A sudden wave of regret washed over Steve, as he realized the saddened roundness of his buddy’s eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not gonna happen.” His calm voiced reassured. “I mean, it’s Y/N, why would she ever allow that to happen? Y’know, so what, things don’t work out between… me and her,” he explicated, “doesn’t mean your- I mean, our friendship has to change.” Steve watched, as Eddie nodded along, shoulders slumping in relaxation. “We talk it out, we understand each other, and we move on as friends. Together. We’ll still love each other like that. And, hey, at least we’ll both get a hot hookup out of it.” Okay, maybe he was still being a little shit, but he was only channeling his inner Henderson. Plus, the snapping glare from Eddie was quite priceless.

“Are you really gonna make a move on Y/N?” His jaw ticked with clenched teeth.

“I dunno.” Steve smiled, before snapping his fingers with a brilliant revelation, “Y’know what, I saw Robin flirting with you earlier today, how ‘bout we go on a double date?” Yeah, now he was definitely just teasing. “Hell, make it a triple one once Byers and Wheeler head back into town.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Robin was not flirting with me, she was just being… weird.” He pondered it for a second. What the hell was that that happened this afternoon? There’s no way she actually- no, impossible. Could she? No, that didn’t feel right. Well, maybe-

“Hey, do you actually think I have personality?” Oh, Stevie.

On Tuesday evening, the Family Video store saw the little customers it was regularly accustomed to; Mr. Fredrickson, only to be accounted for, slowly roamed the documentary section, particularly interested in the historical segment for his afternoon leisure.

The nub of his cane poked an indent into the carpeted floors, as his supported weight allowed for close inspection of the bolded titles that plastered in an array of colors. Luckily, the lens of his glasses were thick enough to provide him the ability of sight to read what was on display for night, leaving you to mindlessly thumb through this month's issue of Cosmopolitan. “Hm.” Mr. Fredrickson gruffed. “What d’ya make of the Franco-Prussian War, darlin’?”

The Proven Personal Approach to Permanent Weight Loss. An Incredible Shrinking Woman Tells How She did it! Christ. You found more interest flipping back to the written Cosmo’s quiz determining what kind of husband your current rendezvous would make.

“Uh…” Your back was beginning to ache from finding all support on your perched elbow digging into the counter, letting your cheek fall to your palm. “You did the Napoleonic Wars last time, no? Why don’t you give the French a break?” You skimmed the printed words of the glossy pages.

His wrinkled pointer finger shakingly racked through the tapes, as he took your word of advice. Your eyes were hanging onto the last bit of energy they were enduring to stay awake, but the weight of eyelids inevitably began to win, and it surely didn’t help that the liveliness of your thriving life was partaking in conversations with an elderly man who found amusement in learning about wars.

But before a potential write up—Keith never found the actual courage to do so, loved to threaten it, though—for sleeping on the job could be scolded, the welcoming bell of the front door rang loudly enough to alert some life back into your body.

“Welcome to Family Vide-euuawghh.” A guttural yawn ripped out of you, slurring your standardized greeting into an embarrassing mush of sounds.

With watery eyes scrunched from tiredness, a rushed apology to your incoming customer had proved to fall unnecessary, as a familiar chuckle addressed you back. “Aw, such rigorous labor, working my baby to death, huh?” Eddie Munson, himself, teased, as he leaned to hover over the counter and close to your sluggish face.

“Don’t tease me.” Your mouth jutted in offense, as you rubbed your eyes to the clear sight of being welcomed by Eddie’s bourbon eyes and a smug curl to his lips.

His rough-tipped thumb caressed the hairs of your brow to ease. “How can I not when it gets you to make that cute pout at me, hm?”

You piqued with giddiness. “Because I’m your girlfriend.” A label you quickly learned to adore. “And you shouldn’t be mean to your girlfriend.”

Eddie smiled a breathy chuckle, as he peered at your lips. “Yeah, you are my girlfriend, huh?” He proudly verbalized with a husk to his tone. His mouth was itching to say more, pour out all he felt for the girl standing before him, but a counter the size of the world divided the union between two beating hearts of devotion. And manifesting his words of love paved the way for the potential loss of you. But not doing so also did the same. Because he’s learned good things don’t last for Eddie Munson. And what a unless world it would be to lose the profoundness of you.

God, he wanted to punch Steve Harrington for last night.

Eddie took a deep breath. His bangs landed against your forehead, and scrunched under your nod of confirmation. You are his girlfriend. “Where’re the other two stooges?” He whispered, his breath fanning across your face.

“In the back doing inventory.” You gladly answered the words Eddie wanted to hear. He bashfully leaned in, though before his mouth could meet yours, you pulled back with furrowed brows. “Wait, ‘other two stooges,’ am I the third?”

Eddie barked out a boyish laugh, as he watched your faux face of aversion and shock. His large hands made your face feel small as he cupped your cheeks and brought you forth. “God, you’re so pretty.”

His lips crashing upon yours had wiped your expression of any annoyance you tried to playfully brat out. His mouth moved against yours so languidly, it had you falling limp to his kiss, as he expressed all that he felt with the touch of his lips. Eddie pulled away slowly, leaving you to quietly hum in retaliation and chasing his lips.

“Sorry.” He chuckled, providing you with one more loving peck. “But, hey, y’know, speaking of the other stooges, uh, Robin and Steve,” he cleared his throat, “you notice anything weird about ‘em, like lately?”

The cafeteria. “Um, yeah, actually.” You contemplated on the thought. “Why, did they say something?”

Nausea hit him like a truck, wondering if "The Hair’s" attempts to get at you were already happening quicker than expected. “S-Steve, he, uh, he said something to you?” Eddie felt his throat dry up.

“Steve? No, Steve’s been Steve, but I was mostly talking about Robin.” Jesus Christ, did you bring peace to his world.

“Oh, yeah,” He puffed a breath of relief, “um, weirdest thing happened after school yesterday, but I think Robin was hitting on me.” Confusion had been written all over your face, as you pulled back from the counter. “She was, like, totally into me.”

“What?” You chuckled. “No, not possible.”

“Okay, ow.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes, as you laughed, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm in apology.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean it like that” you giggled, “but I’m sure you probably just misread things, you know? Robin finds you charming in a platonic way, like with Steve.”

Eddie straightened up. “No, I’m telling you, sweetheart, she was all over me.” He persisted. “I mean, for crying out loud, she was touching my bicep.”

A smug smile took over your face, as you arched your brow at him. “This bicep?” You teasingly squeezed his soft arm.

Eddie scoffed. “Well, it’s not flexed right now.”

The back storage unit of Family Video had been littered with an influx of tapes, both coated in dust to be long forgotten and pristine with the newest release of what Hollywood had to offer. This year’s box office hit Top Gun starring Nancy Wheeler’s poster boy, Tom Cruise, or the fourteen-year-old The Ruling Class with the musical humor following a priest��s death due to his autoerotic asphyxiation kink? Robin Buckley laughed. Always the latter.

“God, can’t believe Keith expects us to organize this junk.” Steve huffed, swiping his palms against each other, only to scowl at the specks of dust that floated into the air under the beaming sunlight. “I should be seeing Bridget right now, or Heidi, or taking out Linda, maybe Jeanie, haven’t talked to her in a minute.” Robin rolled her eyes at the endless sex-capades that was Steve Harrington’s love life. Christ, she couldn’t even get a clear sign that Vickie from chemistry wasn’t standing so straight. “Or-or maybe Y/N.” He chuckled to himself.

“What?” Robin prodded.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, last night I was completely bugging out Munson, and told him I was planning on askin’ out Y/N.” Steve laughed, briefly coughing as dust particles blew off the VHS tapes.

Robin was only left deadpanning in disappointment. “You did what now?” She scoffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side, I thought we were supposed to let it go?”

“You’re the one flirting with your friend’s boyfriend.” He argued.

“Because that little twerp forced me to!” The Ruling Class came hurdling to his chest, as she chucked it.

Shoving old movies aside, Steve grappled onto the box of new releases to shove into Robin’s arms, as he handled the second load. “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no sides, as much as I hate to admit it, Henderson was right about those two screwing.” Steve enthused. “You should’ve seen the look on Eddie’s face when I told him I was gonna make a move on Y/N.”

Robin huffed. “Okay, so let’s just leave it at that and let them screw in peace- or, even better yet, let’s just tell them we know, so they can have the freedom to do what they want.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Steve whined.

Robin laughed at his childish mewl. “And, unless Munson gets rid of the thing in his pants and learns to grow a cup or two, I am not flirting with him again.” She playfully gagged, while reminiscing on yesterday’s events.

“Please,” Steve derided, “you can’t even look Vickie in the eye, I highly doubt if Munson suddenly grew some tits you’d become some sort of Casanova.” He snorted, opening the door. “Mr. Bicep?”

Before Robin’s sneaker could step foot back into the main lobby of Family Video, Steve’s grasp onto the collar of her shirt flung her back into the storage room, with a slam to the door. “Are you inane?!” She chastised, while attempting to find her balance with a ten pound box of VHS tapes.

“Munson’s out there!” He whisper-yelled into her face.

“Okay, so?”

“So, we gotta get in there, and stir the pot a little.” His brows danced impishly against his forehead.

Robin’s face dropped vacantly. “What about anything that I literally just said didn’t click for you?” A smack against his head from her hand had him reeling back in defense.

“Ow, okay, I get it, Munson doesn’t have boobs.” Steve huffed, rubbing out the dulling pain. “But, look, Dustin wasn’t that far off, a little encouragement doesn’t harm anyone. He thinks that you like him and that I like her, you’re telling me this isn’t even a little funny to you?” My god, did Steve Harrington have a charming way of flaunting that stupid smirk that had Robin hold back a chuckle. Because in retrospect, Eddie Munson believing his lesbian friend had a crush on him, while her partner in crime, her himbo, had a supposed liking to his secret girlfriend was quite funny. Funny like a priest dying from his autoerotic asphyxiation kink.

She sighed, giving him a pointed glare. “One time, Harrington. This is the one and only time I will ever flirt with a man again.”

Steve threw his hands up in defense, as a smile lingered on his face. “Highly doubt there will ever be a time in which I ask you to do that again.” He laughed, while slinging the door open. “Plus, it’s Munson. I’m sure his cynicism won’t even count it as flirting.”

“Well, Y/N's flirting surely worked.” She joked, as they stepped out.

“You think it’s because he has personality or nice hair?” Steve interrogated. “Because I sure as hell have way better hair than him.”

Despite your alluring face, Eddie caught a glimpse of Steve and Robin making their way over while looking past your shoulder, forcing him to make the regretful decision to back away from you. “Ed.” Your tiny pout of confusion made it all that harder, until Steve’s voice boomed out.

“Hey, y’know, as a customer, you’re supposed to actually rent something!” Him and Robin joined you both at the counters, where they sat the boxes of movies. “Or, you could, y’know, stock shelves with us.”

Eddie flipped him the bird, as he smiled. “Actually, I was just stoppin’ by to ask if Halloween is still rented out.” He turned to look down at you with a smirk. “Is it?”

“I can go check that for you.” Your sweet customer service voice had him biting back a grin, as you stepped away to the computer.

As Steve and Robin began displacing films from the boxes, his elbow nudged her side to grab her attention away from organizing. “Just keep it casual.” He whispered, as she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sure if you unfocus your eyes, the five o’clock shadow will go away, and he’ll totally look just like Vickie.” And he huffed right back when Robin rightfully scoffed at him. “What? They have the same eyes… just, y’know, different color… and shape.”

Robin waved him off before anything further could come out of his mouth. With The Fly nestled in her grasp, Steve threw her a nod of encouragement, before scurrying to the shelves with a small laugh escaping his lips.

“Sorry, Eds.” You clicked off the computer. “Landon K. beat you to it; no Halloween.”

“Should totally check out The Fly.” Robin slyly imposed, as she handed him the film. “Can never go wrong with some Cronenberg, right?” Eddie inspected the film with a shrug. “Sure, better than taking movie suggestions from Harrington.”

There came the inordinate laugh from Robin that had Eddie throwing you a knowing glance, and Robin, herself, internally dying inside. “Ha! Always so funny!” She clumsily fist-bumped his arm. “Uh- anyway! Better get back to work.” A large smile flashed both your ways.. “I, uh, I’ll see you later… handsome.” And following in the footsteps of her grandmother when she wasn’t screaming something batshit crazy, Robin Buckley pinched Eddie Munson’s cheek before running away to Steve Harrington.

“You pinched his cheek?!” Steve contemptuously chortled in her frazzled face that burned with embarrassment.

Robin’s hands smack her face, dragging the skin down, as she groaned. “Well, I don’t know how to do the whole flirting thing!” Her fist came smacking down at his chest.

Steve bent at the waist with a cramping stomach of laughter “Okay, yeah, but he’s not a baby!”

Your eyes followed Robin’s running figure until she disappeared into the maze of shelves, and you incredulously turned to your stunned boyfriend. With his mouth wide, and eyes bulging, Eddie fretfully spoke. “Okay, did you see that?! With the compliment, and the pinching?!”

You bewilderedly settled at the realization. “Actually, I did.” You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend was flirting with you boyfriend- well, technically, she had no clue he was your boyfriend, but still- Eddie? Not to sell your boyfriend short, god, he was perfect in every way, but Robin? Robin and Eddie?!

“Okay, so now do you believe that she’s attracted to me?” He persisted.

You thought for a second, and Eddie Munson watched your face drop with concern, as your hand clutched your chest. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! She knows about us!” You cautiously warbled, as you began pacing about behind the counter.

Eddie’s face scrunched with distress. “Are you serious?”

“Robin knows, and she’s just trying to freak us out!” You belabored, anxiously looking back to where Steve and Robin could no longer be seen. Your hands dramatically dropped at the revelation. “That’s the only explanation for it!”

Eddie vacillated at the unwarranted insult. “Okay, but what about my pinchable face and bulging biceps?” He confidently pointed to his arm, before the lacking muscle of scrawiness suddenly hit him like a truck. “She knows!”

Your hand comically slapped the counter, as you chuckled in disbelief at her attempt to fool you. “Oh, man, she probably thinks she’s so slick for messing with us.” Eddie joined in, frenziedly laughing, completely feeling stupefied, though giving props to the mastermind, nonetheless. Impressed he was. “But, hey, you know what? She doesn’t know we know she knows, so…”

“Ah, yes!” Eddie piqued with interest. “The messers become the messees!”

“You sure you kids are alright?” Shrugging on his utility jacket for the night, the aging lines of Wayne Munson’s forehead scrunched with suspicion for the nightly activity his nephew and his supposed “friend” were going to be up to.

Sure, the sight of you over at his trailer wasn’t something peculiar, in fact, for the past months, you, in particular, were the only one of Eddie’s buddies who made a regular appearance to their humble abode. Why? Well that was a question that still went unanswered whenever Wayne tried to prod into the life of his nephew. But the way Eddie would blush, while simultaneously attempting to quickly change the subject, made Wayne’s throat tickle with a chuckle.

Who the hell were you two fooling?

But now, with much concern from Wayne, it seemed as though Eddie’s oddities had begun rubbing off on you, as you both strangely huddled around the yellow home phone, clearly waiting for the second Wayne would close the door behind, as he left for the graveyard shift.

Attempting to “casually” lean against the paneling of the wall, Eddie’s head was quick to snap up and down in return. “Yeah, yeah.” He rushed. “Better get goin’, don’t wanna be late for the bosses.” He threw an overcompensating smile, as you sat at the kitchen table, merely following suit to that of your “friend.” Wayne Munson couldn’t care less about the bosses.

“Alright then.” The old man huffed, picking up the keys of his pick-up truck, letting the humid spring breeze waft through the front door. “Get ‘er some dinner if you’re makin’ ‘er stay late.”

“As always.” Eddie threw you a sly wink, as Wayne left with a quick exchange of goodbye thrown from both parties, until the front door finally closed.

At the click, you sprung from your chair, snatching the phone out of the receiver to hand to Eddie, to which he happily grabbed with a maniacal snicker. “You sure she’s over at Steve’s?”

Your fingers were fervent with the harsh press to the buttons, dialing the numbers to phone the Harrington residence. “Uh huh, something about watching Fast Times with Robin.” The second your finger pressed down on the last digit, you were quick to maneuver the phone against Eddie’s ear. “Okay, just stick to the script.”

Eddie scoffed, flipping his hair back. “Sweetheart, please, I was able to get you, I sure as hell can get Robin.” Your hand met his chest with a chastising slap. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He laughed.

Up the road, on the secluded sector of Cornwallis Street, Robin Buckley was anxiously plowing through a bowl of popcorn, as the fifty-second minute was fastly approaching, and suddenly Phoebe Cates was climbing out of the pool with the detrimental ambience of teenage horniness.

“Here it comes, here it comes!” Steve snickered, as he absentmindedly chewed on a licorice piece.

Robin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “God, Steve, you don’t have to point out the obvious!” But after forcing her friend to endure two hours and thirty-four minutes of the satirical musical critique of institutional religion that was The Ruling Class, Steve decided to return the torture by subjection of… boobies.

“What I’m point out is the fact that Vickie lived through this exact moment, meaning she was staring at boobies, meaning-”

“Don’t say it!”

“Vickie likes boobies!” Steve implored, the largest grin on his face, as he watched Robin slap her hands onto her face at a brutal attempt to shield herself from the mortifying experience that was having Steve Harrington as a friend.

But, in slow motion, as Phoebe Cates’ fingers clutched onto the center hook of her bikini bra, the phone shrilled, allowing Robin to exhale a “thank god,” as Steve’s attention begrudgingly turned to the incoming call.

Swiftly jumping to the end table, Steve picked up the brick phone. “Yeah, hello?” He spoke, munching on another rope of his candy, surely missing the quick glances Robin was making back at the TV. Steve’s brows piqued at the static voice. “Oh! Yeah, she’s right here!” Turning to Robin, his hand cupped over the speaker, as he giddily shoved the phone to her. “It’s Eddie, he’s probably gonna cave in.” He whispered.

Rolling her eyes, Robin cleared her throat from any stray popcorn kernel, ready to end this once and for all. “Hello?”

Back at Forest Hills, your toes pressed against the linoleum tiling of the kitchen floor to push yourself up to his height, smushing your ear against the other side of the phone, as mischievous smiles consumed both your faces. “Hello, Robin… I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day.” Eddie channeled his most suave voice, forcing you to bite back a laugh, suppressing your mouth into his shoulder.

“Huh?!” Devious as ever, both you and Eddie almost broke at her considerable shock.

Steve raised a questioning brow, attempting to scoot closer, only for Robin to preserve her personal bubble and shove him back. Much to his nosey dismay. “Well, y’know that thing you said before, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” Eddie teased, as you nodded your head along to show your proudness for your boyfriend flirting with your friend.

Yeah, things in Hawkins, Indiana surely were weird.

“R-Really?” Robin choked, as the popcorn in her stomach suddenly turned at the uneasiness of male attention. Gross.

Ever the villain, Eddie smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, listen my uncle isn’t gonna be here tonight, so why don’t you come over, and I’ll let you, uh, feel my bicep… or maybe more.” You quietly chuckled. God, what a cute loser.

Robin grimaced, stuttering with concern. “Uh, you know, I-I’ll have to get b-back to you on that, uh, okay, bye!” She was quick to hang up the phone, while you and Eddie intimately celebrated in the lonesome of his kitchen with silly squeals and tiny jumps. “Oh, my god! He wants me to come over to feel his bicep and more!”

Steve Harrington was left speechless at Robin’s panicked announcement, as his mouth hung wide. “Are you kidding?!”

“No!” She gagged. “I know what I heard!”

Steve felt incredulously at the scumminess of his friend. “I cannot believe he would do that to… wait a second.” His brows furrowed. Eddie Munson nearly launched at the chance to shut down any ideas of Steve dating you, why on Earth would he suddenly- oh, shit. “They know!”

“What?!”

“They know that we know!” Steve clarified, as the gears in Robin’s head turned, until her face was enlightened with the fact of the matter which was that her best friend was trying to deceive her right back!

She gasped. “I can’t believe those two!” Instantaneously, any reservations Robin initially had for Steve and Dustin’s plan had left, as all she felt was dramatic offense at the idea of trying to be demeaned.

“They thought that they could mess with us?!” Steve proclaimed.

“They’re trying to mess with us?!” In disbelief, both friends chuckled with bewilderment at the unexpected slyness coming from you two. That was, until Robin Buckley schemed with realization. “They don’t know we know they know we know!”

Steve’s face scrunched with confusion, though nonetheless a team player, he nodded along, giggling at Robin’s wicked implication. Suddenly, a call to the Henderson household was in need.

Dustin Henderson’s calves burned under the rigorous strain of bike riding from the northern end of Cornwallis street to reach Steve’s house. Haphazardly disposing his bicycle in the driveway, Dustin had barged in with no warning, coming face-to-face with Robin Buckley, resident polyglot band geek, wearing Mrs. Harrington’s blue cocktail dress, as Steve Harrington, retired king of Hawkins High, played makeup artist with his mother’s newly bought red lipstick in hand.

It was undeniable at this point, Hawkins, Indiana was most definitely weird.

“Would you just quit moving, so I can put this on you?!” The vein on Steve’s forehead became pronounced under the immense pressure he felt. Being a makeup artist surely wasn’t easy, especially when your client was nagging about the intense blush placement of his work.

“Enough with the makeup, it’s Eddie for Christ sake!” Robin complained, enduring the endeavor of trying to shove Mrs. Harrington’s shoes onto her feet. God, why was the woman’s shoe size so small?!

“Really Steve?!” Robin and Steve jumped at the intruding voice of Dustin, as the kid stood with his hands on his hips, imitating the signature pose of the man before him. “That’s totally not her color, you’re making her look like a clown!”

Both parties scoffed, rightfully offended.

Robin pushed Steve away, rubbing her cheeks harshly to blend out the monstrosity that was Steve’s makeup skills. “Okay, this is plenty!” She stressed. “We’re gonna call him, we’re gonna get that date, and we’re gonna win!”

The boys cheered, Dustin more so heavily appreciative of this new Buckley mentality, as they circled around her when she reached for the phone. “Mm! You better grab a spring roll before I eat ‘em all.” Eddie’s crowded mouth of mashed vegetables spoke. Chinese had been delivered in the wake of your celebration, congratulating both of you for your—mostly Eddie—duplicitously clever work.

In the midst of diving into your tangled lo mein, the phone shrilled, which had Eddie springing from the couch. “Probably calling back to surrender!” You cheered, as Eddie snickered, sliding his socked feet into the kitchen. “Good job on creeping her out, babe!”

Eddie bowed, accepting whatever weird kind of praise that was, before answering the phone with a muffled mouth of spring rolls. “Hello?”

“Be sexy.” Steve encouraged, eliciting a scoff from Robin, as she turned her focus onto the phone call.

“Hi!” Both terribly displeased with her lack of commitment, Robin was met with strict glares from Dustin and Steve to amp it up… so, she did. Clearing her throat, she dropped an octave to obtain the sultriness of what she could only assume Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond to sound like. “Uh, I mean, hey, you.” Robin Buckley wanted to puke. “So, Eddie, I’d love to come over tonight.”

A piece of pork was hacked from Eddie’s throat, as he choked on his food. “R-Really?!”

Watching his face drop, you stood with concern wondering what was going on on the other line. “Oh, absolutely. Should we say around nine?” Eddie checked his clock. In fifteen fucking minutes?!

But Eddie Munson wasn’t going to back down. Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master of the great Hellfire, who’s pushed his men to prevail against the nefarious dark lords of villages and towns alike, was not going to be defeated by Trumpet Girl. The man glared his eyes. “Yes.” He tested.

Robin Buckley accepted his challenge. “Good.” She smiled, as she watched Steve motion for her to crank it up a notch. “Uh, I’m really looking forward to you and I h-having sexual intercourse.” The phone hung up and flung from her hands the second the words left her mouth.

Eddie Munson’s face dropped. Dustin Henderson gagged. Steve Harrington laughed. And Robin Buckley wanted to crawl into a hole to forever perish in the depths of torturous hell.

Because that’s what it felt like to flirt with a man.

“Okay, showtime!” Dustin applauded from the backseat of Steve’s car, where Robin scrambled to effortlessly scrunch her hair around.

“Here’s the perfume.” Steve pushed down the nozzle of the stolen fragrance of his mother’s collection—thanking god for the moment that she wasn’t here—where his finger spritzed numerous doses against Robin, causing the car to invade with the nauseating scent of strong, overpowering flowers.

Robin coughed. “Alright, quit it! The kid has allergies.”

“I have allergies!” Dustin sneezed.

Steve huffed in annoyance, watching as Robin unbuckled from her seat. The beaming headlights that had once reflected off the vinyl-covered walls of the trailer had been switched off for stake-out purposes, as Steve’s car parked in the open area of the Munson home in the quiet night.

“Hand over the wine, Henderson.” Buckled next to the seat of Dustin’s—for protective measures—a bottle of his parent's stolen chardonnay rested like a passenger on board; Steve’s, ever the romantic, suggestion for the authenticity of a real date.

“Is this really necessary?” Robin truly had no room to talk, she most definitely hadn’t experienced the polarizing events of the dating scene, let alone ones of heterosexual realms (thankfully).

Scoffing, Steve was galled by the dig at his—for once—knowledgeable expertise of life phenomena. “Are you kidding, chicks go for this shit.” Surely, Bridget, Heidi, Linda, and Jeanie can attest to his opinion.

“Yeah, well, Munson’s definitely not a chick… unfortunately.” She mumbled.

“Huh?” Dustin asked.

Robin was quick to shut up in a panic. “Nothing!”

“Look, just get in there, and do your thing, alright?” Whatever attempt at a pep talk this was from Steve Harrington devastatingly fell short, as the last thing Robin Buckley expected to do on her Tuesday night was go out on a date with a man, who so happened to be her best friend’s boyfriend. Thing?! What thing?! She couldn’t even stare her crush in the eye for Christ sake, Steven! Robin Buckley has no thing! And Eddie Munson unfortunately does- the repulsing (to her) kinda thing that Robin Buckley doesn’t even like! She huffed. “Just take it easy. The second Munson lets you in, we’ll sneak up to the door, and hear through there.”

On the edge of his bed, Eddie Munson let your hands wander about, until his appearance was up to your liking; voluminous hair, controlled friz, straightened shirt, and a bottle of minty mouth spray that he coughed at, but necessary for the prevention of spring roll breath. “Okay, you’re gonna be great!” You motivated him with the words of encouragement, as you brushed away his stray hairs. “You just make her think you want to have sex with her, and it’ll totally freak her out.”

Eddie straightened up, shaking his body from any jitters, and stretching as if a marathon was in place. “Okay, so how far am I exactly supposed to go with her?” His face etched with concern.

You waved him off. “Relax, alright, she’s gonna give in way before you do!” If there was anything you learned about Robin Buckley in your months of friendship, it was the blatantly obvious fact that she would shrivel up in awkwardness before anything further took place.

Eddie Munson freaked at your sudden certainty. “How do you even know?!”

“Because you’re on my team!” You stressed. “And my team always wins!”

His face scrunched with fret. “At this?!”

Tentative knocking against the front door pulled you both away from the conversation. It was game time. “Eddie,” his head whipped back to you, “you’re the Dungeon Master, okay? This, this is nothing in comparison to dark lord wizard thingies.” God, he knew for certain you didn’t fully understand his interest in Dungeons and Dragon, but the time you took to support him was making his heart beat faster than any fake date with your best friend could ever make him feel.

You make him feel such incredible things.

“You’re the master here, you’re in control, you got this!” Jesus Christ, the corny shit your competitiveness was making you say was too fucking cute. “Just go get some!” You finished him with a quick kiss that had him yearning for more, but your body quickly scurried away to the bathroom.

Eddie Munson sighed. Cracking his neck, he rolling his shoulder. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I’m in control.”

Steve clutched a heavy hand on his steering wheel, as both him and Dustin peered through the windows. “Okay, just wait for it… wait for it… wait- get down!” The boys dropped their heads the second Eddie’s front door opened with a dramatic swing.

And there she was. Eddie cocked an eyebrow for whatever reason it was Robin Buckley chose to show up overly dressed like a middle-aged woman, and with an awkward smile to taint her image. But Eddie Munson was right there to follow suit with a strange grin to greet her.

“Robin.”

“Eddie.”

“Come on in.”

“I was going to.”

As the trailer door closed shut, Steve and Dustin silently crawled their way out of the car with their utmost quietest attempts of closing the doors shut behind them. With crouched stances like detectives on duty, the pair scampered their way to the top of Eddie’s cemented stairs, where their heads pressed against the front door to hear the muffled conversation from the other side.

“I, uh, brought some wine.” Robin held up the bottle, as Eddie was slightly taken aback. What the hell kinda teenager brings wine to a date? Probably the kind who’s a lesbian, and going out with her best friend’s boyfriend out of competition. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Making their way to the kitchen, Eddie secured two cups, as Robin popped off the protruding cork top, and suddenly she felt entirely even more stupid than the fact that she was on a “date” with a man, when Eddie proffered matching Garfield and Odie mugs for glasses of chardonnay.

The dreadful silence began to take over, and Eddie could only manage to fill it with thorny chuckles, as Robin filled the mugs. “So, uh,” she sighed, “here we are. Nervous?”

“Me? No. You?” He skeptically questioned.

But Robin Buckley was there to provoke him. “No, I want this to happen.”

“So do I.” Eddie cleared his throat, before their glasses clicked with a toast, and Robin and Eddie found themselves chugging down the mug-fulls of alcohol to hopefully forget the disturbing night they were about to endure. When cups fell empty, Eddie sighed and turned to the radio that rested atop of the washing machine. “Why don’t I, uh, play some music; set the mood a little.”

Call her inexperience, whatever, but Robin knew there was no way in hell the screeching voices of Slayer attested to “setting the mood” during date night. God, she felt bad for you- for straight women. “Maybe-maybe I’ll, uh, dance for you.” She dared right back.

Where Robin could judge Eddie on his music taste, Eddie could return the favor in her lack of mobility, as her body began clumsily swaying about in his kitchen, off rhythm to the already undanceable sounds to thrashing metal. Her contorting ankles in kitten heels paired with her jutting hips allowed her to mortifyingly saunter her way over to an uncomfortable Eddie, who was wielding the willpower to not bark a laugh in her face.

But Robin Buckley was not going to win this. Not when Eddie Munson’s pride stood in the way. “Mm, you look good.” He spoke so stiffly, as he defied back with a taunting grin.

“Why, thank you.” She forced out a laugh. “Y-You know, when you say things l-like that, it makes me wanna, um, rip that… Weird Al t-shirt right off.” Jesus Christ, Dustin made him get matching ones.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “well, uh, why don’t we move this to the bedroom then?” His brows pointed, eyes glared.

Robin immediately stopped her bizarre dancing. “Really?” Her panic settled in.

“Oh!” Eddie quickly stepped back with an impeding smile. “Do you not want to?” He urged.

“No, no.” Robin composed herself, waving him off with faux confidence. “I just, um, you know, first, I wanna t-take off all my clothes, and have you r-rub lotion all over me.” Is that what straight people do before sex?!

Eddie’s throat constricted with little air, and a tightening hand of embarrassment. “Well, that would be nice.” His voice raised a cracking octave. “I’ll, uh, go get the lotion.” Before Robin could respond, Eddie was already running away to the bathroom. Your gnawing teeth had bitten through your nail when Eddie came bustling through the door. “Okay, this is totally getting out of hand.” He fretfully groused, as he crowded your area in the small room. “She wants me to put lotion on her!” Eddie dramatically snarled.

You rebuffed his dread. “She’s bluffing!”

Eddie huffed. “Look, she’s not backing down. Jesus, shit, she went like this!” He suddenly gyrated his stiff hips harshly against you to mimic her dancing.

A couple feet away at the front door of Eddie’s trailer, Robin was in consternation, frantically rambling to Steve and Dustin. “He is not backing down! He went to get lotion!”

“You aren’t done yet?” Dustin heaved. “You’re supposed to be on my team, he should be cracking right now!”

Her angry finger flicked against his forehead, despite his insistent cries of pain. “This is all your fault to begin with!”

“Okay, will everybody just calm down for a second?” Steve hushed, where his hands found the relaxing perch against his hips, as if his motherly duties were calling. “Think of it this way, the sooner you get Eddie to break, the sooner this can all be over with.”

“Ooh, I like that.” Robin nodded along.

“Just amp the flirting, alright?” Steve coached. “Look, it took him weeks to actually approach a girl at the bar, he used to get totally flustered whenever he’d play wingman for me. How the hell managed to get Y/N? I don’t know, but all I do know is that just like you, Eddie Munson is a total dud when it comes to flirting.”

Her mouth fell agape at the insult that stung too much from the utter reality of the statement. It didn’t make her feel any better when Dustin shoved that patronizing look in her face. “Yeah, Robin, sweetie, you are not doing a good job right now.”

“How would you know? You’re fourteen!” She bellowed.

“And yet, which one of us is in a loving, committed relationship?” The kid snided.

Steve shushed Dustin away before a catfight could break out on the doorstep of Eddie’s home. “Look, you got this. Just make Munson uncomfortable! You’re a girl, you got this!”

“He’s a boy, he makes me uncomfortable!” She spat.

Ransacking his bathroom cabinets for a bottle of lotion, you hastily shoved the bottle into his grasp, and clutched onto his shoulders. “You go back in there, and you seduce her till she cracks!” Never in a million years did you think you’d encourage your boyfriend to do that. Though with this much commitment, he should really get you into Dungeons and Dragons.

“Okay, just give me a second.” He took a deep breath for composure, just as he got a good glimpse of his bathroom. “Did you clean up in here?!” Your eyes rolled, before grappling onto the doorknob, and pushing Eddie out of the bathroom. He slowly approached the kitchen, where his nervousness eased at the sight of Robin at the door. “Oh, you’re, uh… you’re going!” He smiled.

Steve Harrington's voice replayed in her head, and Robin cleared her throat to pull out the sultry crisp she was needing to flirt. “Um, not without you, lover.”

Eddie flashed her a tight-lipped smile, as he released a big sigh. “Well, uh, come here.” He beckoned. “I’m very happy we’re gonna have all the sex.”

Robin ignored the disgust in her belly to test him. “Y-You should be.” She smirked. “I’m very bendy.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled with fright, as she stepped closer. “I’m going to k-kiss you now.”

And Eddie bothered her right back. “Not if I, um, kiss you first!” With a foot apart, Robin Buckley made her first move on a man, as her stiff hand latched uncomfortably to Eddie’s waist. Devastatingly following in line, Eddie’s fingertips barely grazed her skin, as they lightly rested onto her shoulder, neither party urging anyone to come closer. “Well, I-I guess there’s nothing left for us to do than to kiss.”

“Here it comes.” With rigid lips tucked inward, and tense bodies hesitantly pulling together, Eddie Munson genuinely began to realize how much of a idiotic idea all this was. A nauseating feeling struck him, as he understood what a lousy world it’d be to live in if he had to continue to disguise his feelings for you. I mean, going on a date with your best friend? This is the lengths he’s going to to hide something so perfect? And Robin. For the love of god, if picturing Joan Jett over Eddie’s face was needed to make this experience slightly less miserable, then, yeah, maybe this plan was stupid all along.

“Okay, okay, okay! Fine, you win!” Eddie pulled away, as Robin’s face astounded. “I will not have sex with you!” He huffed with exhaustion.

“And why not?” Robin smiled, as the victory was coming her way.

“Because I’m in love with Y/N!”

“You’re-you’re what?” The front door jolted open, as Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson hurdled their way in, but Eddie took no notice of the peculiarity in that. Not when he heard the bathroom door open behind him.

“Love her!” He proclaimed at the top of lungs. “That’s right! I love her!” Eddie pointed to you, as you made your way closer. “I love her! I’m in love with her!” And suddenly, the reality of you actually standing in front of him hit him, and Eddie realized the weight of what he just admitted to you… and his friends. Eddie took a deep breath, as he solemnly stared down at you, and in an instant, he felt his body calm at the sight of your smile. “I love you, Y/N.”

His hands took solace against your warm cheeks, where you stared up at with adoration in your eyes. “I love you, Eddie.” Your arms circled around his neck, as his desperate hands clung to your shirt to pull you into an intoxicating kiss that had you both mewling with tenderness. This was it. Eddie Munson knew love.

That was until Robin spoke. “Oh, my god, you guys! We thought you were just doing it, we didn’t know you were in love!” She gushed.

Steve shyly smiled from the back. “Dude!” He effused.

“Aha!” And then there was Dustin Henderson. “I told you! I told all of you! And none of you wanted to believe me! I was right and you were wrong!” He pompously smiled, before turning to you and Eddie. “By the way, I was the first to know! I’ve been knowing for a week after you freaks forced me to lose my dice!”

Eddie chuckled, as his hands stayed secured around you. “Actually, Dustin, Max was kinda the first to know. She found out four months ago, when she caught Y/N leaving my place at night.” He admitted. “Been blackmailed ever since; spent $20 on some damn heart-shaped sunglasses.”

“Are you kidding me!” Dustin felt gobsmacked, betrayed and abandoned, like those damn Fritos.

“Hey, but, uh, hats off to you, Robin.” Eddie smiled, offering a hand of congratulation. “Quite the competitor.” And she shook it proudly, another notch in whatever weird belt this was.

“I still can’t believe you never told me.” Dustin gasped. “I mean, seriously, Max out of all people.” Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson’s voices eventually faded into the background, as you managed to slip away from your boyfriend’s grasp to hold onto the hand of your best friend, while you whisked her away to the quiet corner of the living room.

“Hey, so I just wanted to apologize to you real quick.” You softly smiled at Robin. “I mean, going through all this just because I kept this from you,” you sighed, “I’m just really sorry you were forced to date my boyfriend.”

Robin laughed, as she squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry you’re forced to date him everyday.” She joked. “No, but seriously, you don’t have to apologize at all.” Her throat began to sting with the heftiness of her feelings, but she felt the warmth of fingers against hers, and Robin Buckley took her deep breath. “I understand why you did it- why you felt the need to hide.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” She tearfully smiled. “I feel the same way, just a little different. I just, um, I know what it’s like to want to keep something to yourself, because having to come out as something you know the world isn’t going to love is scary. It’s really scary, Y/N.” Her hand tightened, as her voice cracked.

But in true Buckley style, that beautiful smile never left her face, as she told you her biggest fear. But what a shame it was that the world made her biggest fear her truest self. Your arms wrapped around her in a suffocating hug, where she let out a shaky sigh against your shoulder. “Robin,” you whispered into her hair, “I love you.” You implored. “Eddie does. Steve does. I hope you know that this town isn't worth being scared of.” You felt her shudder against you, as your hand soothed down her back. “Not when you’re so goddamn perfect.” Robin laughed, as she pulled away, clearing her eyes from any unspilled tears that threatened to stain her cheeks. “I know it’s easier said than done, but genuinely, don't waste your perfect self on what the world wants.” She digested your words, flashing you a thankful grin, as she steady to jumping nerves. “I mean, take it from the man himself, your date tonight, who’s univocally himself.”

You both turned to the kitchen, where Steve and Eddie had Dustin pinned, with a spring roll in hand, trying to shove it down the defiant kid’s mouth. “Jesus, I really am sorry you have to date him.”

You both laughed, as you watched the commotion take place. And you looked at Eddie Munson, how effortlessly beautiful he was, and how comfortable those around him came to be in his accepting presence. “He’s not too bad.” You smiled. “Now, c’mon, we have Chinese and chardonnay to celebrate!”

Finally letting the child go, Steve snagged the spring roll with a monumental bite of pleasure, before closely crowding into Eddie’s bubble. “No, but seriously, dude, how the hell did you do it?” Steve Harrington pointed to you, as Eddie Munson smiled.

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