#brief robin buckley | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 1 year

Text

1 2 3 (can also be read as a standalone)

my awesome steve playlist ; Ao3

STEVE LOOKS AT HIS BIG EMPTY HOUSE AND THINKS FUCK IT

(ft. the beginnings of a beautiful friendship and shitting on the school dress code)

Steve has always been fascinated by the act of creating.

His father is a very strict and traditional man. Everything has a specific way it ought to be, and anything that deviates from this fixed set of beliefs is simply wrong. (No, don't go into the kitchen, Stephen. Why do you need so long to get ready, Stephen. This type of music isn't fit for a Harrington, Stephen.)

He finds it kind of ironic. According to the bible, Eve was created from Adam's rib. And yet, according to his father, it is only the woman that creates. It is the woman who creates homemade meals for the rest of the family. It is the woman who creates tales and stories to put the children to sleep. It is the woman who creates patterns and fabric and clothing out of loose textiles and yarn.

Steve isn't completely sure what the man is supposed to do. When his father is home, he mostly disappears in his study or watches TV. (Steve finds it kind of sad)

He supposes he should be grateful that his father is always so eager to leave. Maybe he would have convinced Steve of this trist world he seems to live in if he had had more time to whisper it into his ears. But as things are, Steve loves to create. It soothes something deep in his soul to watch his weird little trauma-bonded ragtag group of kids engorge themselves on a meal that he created. (And Hopper. Nobody appreciates his cooking more than Hopper.) It makes him feel in peace with himself to start his day by fertilizing and watering and occasionally repotting his plants. (The Golden Girls seem to be particularly effective in that regard). It makes him feel accomplished to see his babies thriving and growing, a visible proof of being needed. It makes him feel more comfortable in his own skin to be able to create a more genuine version of himself - with his face as his canvas - one he can somewhat recognize in the mirror.

He'd like to say that he managed to free himself of most prejudices his father somewhat attempted to breed into him by the time he is slinging ice cream at Scoops Ahoy! . (To say that his father tried his hardest when it came to anything regarding his family would be a gross overstatement.)

Steve had not been a good student.

First he threw meaningless party after meaningless party in an attempt to fill all the empty space his parents left behind.

Then he got together with Nancy, and he had never studied more. Which would've been great, if something about her learning style didn't just refuse to work with him. All the stupid facts he needed to know just didn't want to get into his head (he was trying, okay?! He tried to explain it to Nancy when she said that he was smart and just had to "apply himself more". But "this is just too boring" sounds like a weak excuse even to his own ears. And he really tries to be less lazy, everyone else seems to manage it just fine, but he just can't do it.

He leaned into it after a while. Pretended to be more dumb and oblivious and obtuse than he really is. Because then it wouldn't be his fault. It would be something outside of his control. Bad genes or just rotten luck.

It hurt a bit, how easily people believed him. And you know what they say, if you hear something often enough....)

And after that he was a bit too busy being terrified 24/7 and trying to deal with the aftermath of multiple concussions on his own. He was honestly surprised that he actually managed to graduate, half-expected to become another Eddie Munson.

That is all to say that you really don't have to be fucking Einstein to realize that skimpy sailor clothing that barely manages to cover your butt does not mesh well with ice cream that needs to be kept in negative temperatures at all times. But Scoops Ahoy! would need to actually care about its employees to change something about it, which - especially with communists and socialists and whatnot hiding in every corner wanting nothing more than to destroy America or something - was not very likely. To say the least.

One day Steve wakes up with a running nose and an itch in the back of his throat. It is not enough to call in sick, but it is enough for him to think fuck it and bundle up in a scarf and a cashmere jacket that actually belongs to his mother (it is ridiculously soft and it matches to the rest of the outfit so leave him alone, okay?!). As long as he is still wearing the stupid sailor's hat management can't complain.

Or that is what he thinks. Until his boss decides that today of all days is a great day to go to the mall, another jackass (that he is going to kill very slowly and painfully) loudly complains about the extra layers (THAT HE IS WEARING SO HE WON'T BECOME SICK AND THUS BE ABLE TO WORK MORE?!), and boss takes that as his cue to stomp into Scoops and loudly lecture him about "branding" and "marketability" and "wasted assets". Of course the universe decides that right now is not the absolutely perfect time to make a Demogorgon appear that releases everyone present from their misery. He barely has left the shop again when Robin is already laughing so hard she has to take her break earlier.

The next time he looks at the damned board there is another point under the "you suck" column. He argues that he should get one in the "you rule" category simply because someone looked at him in this horrible horrible uniform and thought that hiding all this was enough of a crime to literally complain to his boss. He must be a truly pitiful sight because she eventually relents.

Here is the thing about Robin. She is funny. She is snarky. She knew who he was in Highschool - hell, she was part of the group he used to terrorize for no reason - but she doesn't hold it against him. Sure, she will make fun of him and the "you suck" - game (which he insists should be renamed to the "you rule" - game) certainly wasn't his idea. But it doesn't feel angry or malicious. At least not anymore. Sure, her only way of communication seems to be bad jokes at his expense and she doesn't really notice when she occasionally crosses a line. But it still somehow feels like she is laughing with and not at him. (Maybe it helps that she makes self-deprecating jokes about herself as well.)

But the best part is how he doesn't disappoint her. You can't let someone down who has no expectations in you on the first place, though she manages it in a way that doesn't feel like a weight in his chest like it does with his parents.

He loves Nance (even though he thinks he is finally starting to fall out of love with her), but she never quite could hide her disappointment when weeks of studying together ended up in an average grade at best. And the little shitheads, god bless them. He knows they don't do it on purpose and that he is just being too sensitive, especially because he himself does nothing to convince them of the opposite, but it kind of stings when literal newborns who will probably get scholarships to ivy league in the future keep calling him stupid. It is, admittedly, pretty demeaning.

With Robin, there is none of that. Sure, she has better grades than him (not that that is particularly hard) and will probably be able to get out of this hellish place when she graduates, but for now they are both working at a dead-end customer-service and extenuating circumstances like those tend to bind people together. He would know. An angry customer can be scarily similar to a literal demogorgon.

The next day his nose is still running and his throat is still hurting and he seriously considers coughing into their sortiment as a rebellion of sorts more than once. Robin, of course, is having the time of her life.

"It's like the opposite of the school dress code", she jokes. "Don't you dare hide too much skin, young man, or you won't distract the potential customers!" He snorts at her exaggerated and yet eerily accurate imitation of their boss.

Then he has an idea. "Ooohhh, I know this face" Robin sinsongs rubbing her hands together. "This is your 'I'm going to do something stupid' face. You wear it concerningly often."

"Correction, Buckley. You are going to help me, and we are going to do something stupid. Together. It's not very patriotic to abandon your brother in arms in the trenches like that, you know."

She takes a sceptical look at their tiny shop. "Don't take it personally. But if there was a war. And our country was this Scoops Ahoy. I would rather join the dark side than help my brother-in-arms"

"You mean you would rather murder me than", he takes a significant look to the freezer hidden in the back, "chill with me here?!". She punches him (Robin is surprisingly strong for someone with such noodle arms), and sighs deeply in a way only underpaid customer-service-workers can relate to when a group of teenagers crowds the counter. Steve can't help his smug little smirk as they serve the group together and knows it is taking Buckley everything she has not to punt him in the face. She is totally going to be an idiot with him.

They need a second whiteboard, but Robin refuses to let the "you suck"-game go, so they pool their money together and buy the cheapest one they can find.

The first step is easy: Robin needs to find out all the dress code rules in Hawkins High and write them on their new board.

Then it is Steve's time to get to work.

Experiment #1: Fingertip Rule

"The length of skirts, skorts, and shorts must extend below the student's fingertips when the student's arms are extended at his/her sides."

"Soooo.....am I just going to have to find like....massive socks."

They stare at each other.

Steve raises one of his brows (he is proud of that one). Robin blows him a Raspberry. Steve bites his lower lip to stop himself from smiling. Robin is the first to break, this time. She bursts out laughing. He consoles himself with the thought that at least he won their little stare contest. Plus, with a big of luck and tigh-high socks, maybe this annoying not-quite-cold will finally go away.

The worst part of having completely cutt off contact with everyone in his grade is that he has nothing to do. Everyone he would be willing to spend time with is in fucking school so he has the whole fucking morning to do lots of big old nothings.

So maybe he had an ulterior motive when he suggested this little experiment. One that had nothing to do with a sore throat or a running nose. (He suspects that Robin is aware of that, too. But for once in her life she actually knows when to shut up, so whatever.)

That day he drives out of the parking lot and turns his beloved car in the opposite direction of his home. Sure, he could buy the yarn and the sewing supplies in Hawkins, and his father probably wasn't planning on going to that particular shop anytime soon. But Steve has nothing but time and it is always better to be safe rather than sorry. (Which is also why he always carries a bat full of nails in his trunk.)

It is only when he is already halfway there that he remembers that he is still wearing that stupid fucking uniform. Fuck. But it's okay. It's fine. He just can't let Robin find out that he forgot to take it off and had to actually interact with real people (they've decided pretty early on that customers don't count as those) while wearing it. The only worse thing would be to admit defeat and drive all the way back only to change clothes. Like, he doesn't really have standards or self-respect anymore, but that is a bit pathetic even for him.

And how good a decision that ended up being. As soon as he enters the girl at the counter gives him an appreciative once-over. He brushes away some of his hair almost on autopilot. He isn't sure what about sailor-themed polyester seems to work with so many people, but he sure isn't going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Steve Harrington may not be very good in a great many things, but one thing he can do well is people. He is good at assessing other's intentions, knows how to be charming or how to subtly suggest an idea (manipulation is such a strong word) and project a certain image. He wasn't called the King for nothing, after all.

He stays way longer than he initially intended, but he is pretty sure the girl gave him a bit of a discount, plus she actually taught him the basics of knitting, so he is not going to complain. (At first she thought it was his way to get closer to her, but about five minutes in she realized he was way too intense about it for it to be solely that). So maybe he actually will be telling Robin of his little mishap so she has no choice but to give him another point in the "you rule" column.

The next day, for the first time in what feels like an eternity (he and time have always had a complicated relationship), he does not start his day sitting his butt in front of the TV boring himself to death until it is time to go to work.

Well, that is a lie. He does sit on his sofa the whole time. And he does have the TV on for some background noise. But instead of flipping through channels until he finds something he can at least pretend to be somewhat interested in, he takes everything he bought yesterday afternoon and starts knitting.

Or well, to say that he immediately started knitting would perhaps also not be too accurate. First he stares at the newly-bought yarn for who knows how long trying to decide on a color. His petty petty heart is begging for him to use the orange that clashes horribly with the navy blue of the uniform, but at the same time he should probably not immediately start with the worst possible combination, no matter how much he may want to. Instead, after a frankly embarrassing amount of contemplation, he decides to start with the red. It fits with the accents, and the blue doesn't become too overpowering. Then he begins. For real this time.

Or well. He tries. Turns out knitting is much more complicated when you don't have a cute girl next to you to correct you when you mess up. By the time he has to go to work, he has achieved a whole lot of nothing. (He had been pretty proud of his little square until he noticed that something was wrong and it was lopsided and weird and he couldn't exactly pinpoint it but it was bothering him so he undid all his progress and then had to run to his car when he realized he was already late for work.)

When he arrives he is out of breath and his hair more disheveled than he would normally allow, but he is also only ten minutes late and wasn't stopped by the police for speeding so he sees it as a win. He starts questioning his assertion when his lovely co-worker raises both her eyebrows, quirking her lips (She can't raise just one, which is half the reason why he does it). He follows her gaze.

"Hey, you can't expect me to finish two tigh-high socks in less than a day."

"I'm not looking at you inexistent socks, dingus"

"Interesting fashion choices, your majesty. Got your panties in a twist?"

Steve looks at Eddie Munson who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. Steve looks down. Steve sees that in his hurry he accidentally put his shorts on the wrong way around. Steve lets out a deep deep sigh.

The nice girl (he swears it was something starting with 'H'. Heather? Hannah?) said that she needs about three days for a pair of socks. Considering that, Steve doesn't think his one week is too shabby.

Of course, stupid innocent soul that he was, he once again managed to destroy all his work by letting it shrink in the wash. She (Helena? Hayley?) really hadn't been exaggerating when she said that knitting is at least as much unmaking as actually creating.

Six days later he arrives at Scoops on time for the first time in a week. (It had become personal, okay?! Not his fault time decided to fuck with him specifically for some ungodly reason)

He can see the exact moment Robin sees the high socks that go exactly as high as his fingertips reach - her mouth actually falls open. Her eyes widen further into an honestly comedic degree when he takes out the pair that had shrunken while washing.

"Buckley up", he says, finding himself very funny. "Brothers in arms, remember?"

Steve isn't sure if he should consider himself lucky or despair when their beloved boss actually graces them with his presence. Sure, all this had originally started as a way to see how much clothing is too much clothing according to the higher-ups. But his socks took a lot of work and it is very refreshing (ha!) not to have to freeze his legs off for multiple hours.

He takes a look at their whole fit and turns to Steve. "Harrington, didn't we already have this conversation less than a month ago?"

"While, yes, it may seem like that", Robin interrupts, manager always having had a noticeable preference towards her for some reason, "this actually doesn't conceal any of the important bits." Both visibly wince at that last part. She points towards the sliver of skin between where his shorts end and his socks begin. "According to school dress code, this is plenty distracting. You wouldn't disagree with the school principal who is responsible for the education of literally the entire town, right sir?"

At seeing the skepsis in his gaze Steve quickly intervenes. "Plus, I mean, the customers can barely see it anyway. You know, because we are standing behind the counter. So it doesn't make that big of a difference. And I'm still a bit sick". He coughs for good measure.

The boss looks at both of them with raised brows (Steve admittedly feels a sense of superiority at knowing his boss also can't raise only one like he can) and a long-suffering look as if he were the one who can look forward to two more hours of customer service. For a second Steve is absolutely sure that because of this idiotic little joke he and Robin are going to be fired on the spot. Instead he lets out a long deep sigh and nods in defeat before leaving them alone.

Robin immediately goes for the high-five. "Oh my god this was so great. Did you see his face?! Like-" , she makes a face that looks nothing like his had "Oh my god. I can't wait for the second experiment. This is going to be so much fun!"

This time it is Steve's turn to look at her incredulously. Maybe Robin is part of the group of degenerate people his father always warned him about.

Experiment #2: Hosiery Rule

"tights, leggings, or other types of hosiery must be accompanied by a fingertip length or longer top or dress."

The second their boss's eyes had narrowed at the sight of his socks, Steve had decided that he had enough. He actually needed this job - not in the least because he would probably die from boredom, and who would be there to protect the kids then?

But he hadn't counted on Robin's delight at sucking it up to the school dress code (even if nobody AT school knows of their nefarious deeds) and by the time the shift was over she had somehow convinced him to wear tight leggings instead of the demanded shorts. "The more see-through the better", were her exact words. At least he managed to stop her from going straight to the shoulder rule - he wasn't sure he was ready to destroy one of the uniforms he'd had to pay out of own pocket for this little game of theirs.

So as soon as Steve gets home he goes to the first guest room (he isn't sure what fight had had her barging into the bathroom with tears in her eyes years ago, but his parents hadn't slept in the same bed since. The only reason it is still called the "guest room" and not "his mother's room" is because married couples don't do that. Apparently. If that is what a marriage looks like, Steve would rather stay single forever. And why had he come here again? Oh, yeah. Leggings.

He approaches her drawers and prays that she has left behind at least one pair of yoga pants. He refuses to actually spend money because of this bullshit. (Okay, maybe that isn't strictly true. Because even worse than wasting money on a stupid pair he will only wear once and could possibly get him fired is the thought of Robin being mad or disappointed at him.)

Not for the first time he thinks that his mother must have had a wild past she never talks about. If he had to describe the woman in one word it would be classy. Her posture is always as straight as a flight attendant's or a model's. Her wardrobe consists of muted whites and creams. Maybe the occasional black if she is feeling especially bold. Her jewelry is always small but tasteful ("if it's too big, it's tacky. It makes you look desperate to prove something or to flaunt your wealth"). Her makeup, just like everything else, is elegant and purposeful. Classy.

But then El rummaged through her makeup drawers and somehow found a bold black eyeshadow palette with a cracked mirror (his mother is always very careful with her belongings). Or her son will to through her clothes in an attempt to find a pair of see-through skin-tight leggings that fit him and the only pair he can find is a truly abhorrent screaming orange.

He remembers how he considered making the socks orange to clash with the uniform and just barely stops himself from hitting his head against the wall. Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. Good one universe or god or whoever the fuck.

The next day he goes to work wearing the fucking horrible leggings. Robin does not look appreciatively enough of his sacrifice, which is probably because he knew he would never be able to step out of his car if he didn't cover it with some black jeans, at least on his way over to Scoops.

She understands his debacle when he goes to the back to take off his normal and socially acceptable pants and comes out wearing that thing he still can't believe he actually found in his mother's closet. Easy for her to laugh, considering her nice and non-offensive navy blue pair. She went through with her own advice and one can clearly see where her underwear begins. Steve is pretty sure that it is in no way appropriate to make fun of that. But Robin makes jokes about how he is never going to amount to anything and he is STILL wearing the worst clothes he has ever laid his eyes on for her, so he thinks he has earned the right. As expected, she punches him in the arm and screams at him for looking. (Never mind that he wasn't, it is just pretty impossible to ignore, okay?!) She wants to put on the extra shorts she started storing here after she accidentally let a huge ice cream cone with fudge and sprinkles fall on her and had to finish the rest of her shift with sticky clothes - yes, Steve did obviously make inappropriate jokes about that, although not nearly as many as he would today. He reminds her that the entire reason they are doing this is to be inappropriate, and that if she can cover her old grandma undergarments (Hey, I want to see you stand around for over an hour wearing fucking lingerie, asshole) he can take off the orange eyesore he put on JUST FOR HER. A bit of pleading (he is not going to be the only embarrassed one today if it kills him) and they are both standing uncomfortably and trying to laugh it off when the tenth customer takes a judgemental look at their legs (if not an outright comment, thank you Tommy and Eddie.)

Steve doesn't try flirting with every cute girl that comes around and can confidently say that he has never felt less sexy in his life (and that is saying something, considering he has had a concerning amount of injuries and near-death experiences over the last two years). Robin decides to put the "You suck"- game on hold for one day because Steve argues that they should add a talley everytime she gets judged as well, and she can't find any convincing counter-arguments.

Things did not get much better when the boss came around. Steve is pretty sure Robin's whole underwear situation is the only reason they weren't fired on the spot. She looks approprietly grossed-out when he voices this thought.

If there is one positive thing about this whole experience, is that he has never felt so close to his coworker as today. Trauma truly is a hell of a bonding experience.

Experiment #3 Pyjamas:

"Hawkins High includes pajamas in the category of provocative clothing"

"We are not doing this."

"Yeah, no"

...

"Do you like, sleep in lingerie or something? like, why would pajamas-?!"

Experiment #4: Shoulder Rule

"tops that have less than two fingers width of coverage on the shoulders are prohibited for any student, and shirts that are cut like A-style under shirts or beach wear can't be worn by boys."

Steve's cold is finally completely gone, but this whole experiment has stopped being about that weeks ago (if it ever truly was.)

After the humiliating incident that had been the day before, Steve and Robin were in complete agreement that there was absolutely no way they were going to stop their little game now and let the fucking mess that had been yesterday be in vain.

And so they have unanimously decided to cross the one line Steve had secretly sworn to leave untouched: mutilate their uniforms.

Now, they are both aware that that is their most radical move yet. And although some non-believers will vehemently deny it, Steve and Robin (well, mostly Steve to be honest) are aware that purposely provoking other people will sooner or later bite you in the ass (especially if those people are above you in the hierarchy). And so, for the next week, both wear their regulated uniforms. Their poor boss looks so relieved Steve almost confesses that this is only the calm before the storm.

"Why shoulders, though?"

They have decided that they can continue with their plan. Or, well, Steve had been so distracted with his new plant (he bought a bonsai that he named after Robin instead of the golden girls so he could have the satisfaction of cutting her branches when she'd been particularly annoying at work). And his parents had randomly come back for like a week and his mom had left a lot of new makeup releases behind, which of course meant that he had to experiment. Plus summer vacation started, and his unofficial and unpaid job as a chaffeur for a bunch of preschoolers with it. These same preschoolers also started bothering him at work more often, which meant: 1. Robin now had a lot more fuel to make his life hell, and 2. He'd been very lucky the kids hadn't been to the mall on leggings day.

Which means that Steve hadn't even started the modifications yet. But Robin only remembered to bring an extra shirt their next shift together, so like, they are both at fault here.

"Like, what about that particular arm region makes the teachers so horny?"

"Oh my god Steve ew! The code isn't- well, now that i think of mister Bernd, yeah. Wouldn't surprise me."

"I know. And I am so glad to be out of that place. So, a month sound good?"

"Hey. If you can finish it in half that time I will deal with the hard costumers AND willingly clean the really gross and sticky shit."

"I don't..."

"And you get another "you rule"-point. If I do get fired I want to have a bit of the vacations left, man."

"Okay alright, I'll do my best"

"STEVE STEVE STEVE STEVE STEVE ST-"

"What the fuck you fucking menace what's wrong?!"

"WHAT DID HE SAY??"

Steve sighs. He is relieved to see Max spending so much time outside of the trailer but Jesus H. Christ. He carefully lets the needles that were previously residing more or less safely between his teeth fall on the table, makes absolutely sure that they are indeed on the table in front of him (cursed things must be from the upside down with how they keeps disappearing on him) and grabs for the walkie-talkie again.

"Lukas. Max. I said: What the fuck is wrong with you two? Care to answer in a normal volume, shitheads?"

"Where are you?"

"At home?? Where else would I be?!"

"Well, that is convenient!"

"What do you-"

"I don't know? You never have time anymore! I don't know what the fuck you keep doing all day?!"

"Language Max!"

There is a knock on the door. Convenient indeed. Steve sighs.

He manages to do it in one and a half weeks (he has found that knitting is very calming when the night is too dark and the memories feel too real)

At first he had wanted to try huge sleeves that swish when he moves his arm, but a) that would take even more time and b) it would fall into the ice cream and make a mess so he opted to make the already existing pattern in his handbook for beginners. Except with a hole where the shoulder is. And the blue also doesn't quite match the uniform. And Robin's arms a bit too skinny. So like, maybe it isn't perfect, but that isn't the point anyways. Nobody is perfect and shit.

The first people he knows who see him like this are Nancy and Jonathan. (They seem to be on a date. He is relieved when the realization doesn't hurt nearly as much as it once would have.) After the five longest minutes he has ever experienced, he is almost relieved when he sees their boss coming towards them. The relief quickly turns into terror when he sees the look on his face.

Robin follows his gaze. "Fuck." "Fuck indeed."

"Wait, you said that all this started because of the dress code bullshit, right?"

"Well, actually, it all started because some asshole out there is incredibly attracted to me-" Steve does not have time to finish his correct statement before the boss gets there.

"Buckley. Harrington. Why are you wearing-"

"Wow, Jonathan! Don't you think that Steve and Robin look absolutely dashing?"

"I- sure. They look... great. I definitely would not have come to Scoops Ahoy on this fine day if I hadn't seen their attractive....shoulders."

"Right? Where did you get those, Steve? I want to buy some, too!"

He has no time to see if their boss buys this extremely fake display before his heart stops in terror as he sees his kids stomping towards him. He tries to gesture for them to go away without his boss noticing. They purposefully misinterpret his flailing and walk faster.

"Hey Steve, what are you wearing?!"

"Yeah it looks so great doesn't it?", which prompts Mike to look at his sister as if she just murdered his puppy in front of him.

"Didn't these fresh new outfits make you want to eat ice cream more than ever before?" , Robin tries to salvage this complete dumpster fire.

Thankfully Jonathan and Will seem to have working sibling telepathy because the latter slowly nods. "Yes. I am never in more mood for ice cream than when my eyes are confronted with...long sleeves and...bony shoulders."

Somehow they actually manage to convince him. He isn't sure whether he really believed them (unlikely), he just got too tired of their shit (relatable) or just didn't want to do the extra work of finding someone else (which, understandable, but c'mon dude). Either way, what matters is that Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley remain with a steady (if meager) salary. Plus they had to swear to never pull such a stunt again, which Steve is honestly kind of relieved by.

Unfortunately this victory came at a cost: now the party knows he can knit.

"Hey grandma Steve! My sock has a hole. Can you fix it?"

"Hey Steve! Remember that apron we gave you when we found out you can actually cook? Wouldn't it be fair for you to knit costum shirts for us in return?"

"Hey Harrington. We've got this stray that sometimes wanders near our house and since you can apparently knit-"

When the Russians threatens to pull out his fingernails, his first thought is that he won't ever be able to finish the "Anti-Russia Squad" socks he was making for himself, Robin and Dustin.

When they are drugged out of their minds, Steve tells Robin he named a plant after her.

"Her name is Fuck You Motherfucking Robin Buckley Jesus H. Christ I Can't Stand You. Get it? Because then I don't actually insult you-

"You're just saying the name of the plant so technically you aren't cursing at me-"

"but at the same time i get it out of my chest!"

"oh my god i need a house plant so i can curse YOU without insulting you"

"rude but fair"

"except that i am so terrible at taking care of plants somehow they always...they always die"

(they are still crying half an hour later)

Steve's graduation present is a soulmates-sweater. One huge two people sweater. They wear it almost every day for like a month. (People keep assuming that they are dating which is really annoying because NO? THEY ARE BOTH VERY MUCH AVAILABLE?? Platonic with capital P? Why is that so hard to understand?)

25 notes · View notes

chickensoupleg · 1 year

Text

Chrissy lived above the bookstore.

She's always lived above it, back when she was old enough to escape the clutches of her mother. Fresh out of high school, and a runaway girl. Oh, her mother spat up a storm at that, hearing her daughter not going the path she thought she'd be.

Hah, as if. Jason was a nice guy, but he wasn't what she wanted. No, she was better off separated from him. Jason could live without her, he was a smart man. But marrying Jason and being stuck as some meek housewife to a successful man was what her mother wanted.

Well, she was successful. Nobody could say she wasn't.

The bookstore wasn't hers. When she first moved here, it actually belonged to a quaint little couple, a geriatric husband and his wife. The kind she would hear in little tales where everything was bright and happy and the only problem was finding a particularly good book.

They moved on, retired. Now the bookstore belonged to what sounded like their granddaughter. She's never met the girl before, even though Chrissy's been in the bookstore several times after the couple left, but by the sounds of it she's a nice lady.

It was a pastime, since it was right there, and she loved browsing the store. It was lit up by actual chandeliers and floor lamps, and it felt like she was stepping into some high-end library instead of a little store along the streets. There was a table in the store as well, which people were welcome to sit at and read at their leisure, purchased or not. Sometimes Chrissy would sit there with whatever book caught her fancy that day, although that usually was an art book or magazine.

It wasn't her fault, being a tattoo artist needed inspiration. She'd usually buy the books anyways, so they littered her apartment. Pages were even ripped out and taped to whatever surface she could get to, which always made her feel bad, but they were legally her possession, therefore she was free to do whatever she wanted with them.

It's why she was in the bookstore now, to be frank. One of her clients had requested a particularly interesting subject matter, and Chrissy needed the references. Her eyes scanned the shelves, mumbling to herself as she searched for what she was looking for.

It, thankfully, was in stock.

It was also well above her head, and not even an outstretched arm could do the trick.

Well then.

Chrissy huffs quietly, and takes one look around herself. There was nobody.

Good.

She turns her attention back to the book, taking a deep breath.

She can do this.

Bending her knees, she gets prepared to leap for it when suddenly the entire shelf jitters, knocking the book (and multiple others) off the shelf. Chrissy yelps as she reroutes her legs into jumping back instead of up, books tumbling to the ground.

"Oh, shoot! Curse my legs, you-!" Comes a voice, and Chrissy turns her head as someone emerges from the other side.

Standing there was a woman, hair cut into a bob and clearly having been tousled in a rather artful manner, eyes wide in embarrassment and wearing an oversized plaid shirt under a brown vest littered in buttons and patches.

"Oh! Oh shoot I'm so so sorry did it hit you? I wasn't being careful and I bumped the shelf restocking and you know how gravity goes and- Wait you're the girl that lives upstairs," The woman says, arms raised up before dropping to her side.

Chrissy blinks once, then opens her mouth. "How do you know where I live?" She definitely would remember seeing her, much less if she's told someone. There's no way she has a stalker.

Maybe she does.

The lady seems to have realised just how weird that observation was because she starts to speaks again, a blush coming to her face. "Wait, no. That sounds creepy. Uh- I'm Robin. Buckley. I'm the owner here. You know, after my nana and grampa retired? They uh- Pretty sure they've told you, since you live like- You know- And they told me you like coming down and well-"

Chrissy can't help but laugh a little, Robin deflating a little. "Oh! Wait no don't do that- Wasn't laughing at you I just-" Chrissy cocks her head in amusement, " They talk about me?"

Robin nods. "Mmmmyep. See you like another granddaughter, that's what nana says, which by the way excuse you for taking a spot in nana's heart that's my position you're lucky you're cute- UH I MEAN gee look at all these books better pick them up oh-" Robin turns and kneels at the fallen books, quickly picking them up.

Chrissy breaks into a few more giggles before kneeling down to help her, making extra sure to grab the book she was aiming for in the first place and tucking it under her arm. "I'm flattered, really. But don't worry about taking your spot in her heart, I'm sure she loves you a whole lot. Here, lemme help."

"Oh, thanks. Again, super sorry about this, I didn't know you were back here. You sure you weren't hurt?"

"Nope. Just startled me, is all. Besides, it got me the book I needed!" Chrissy taps the spine of the book under her arm, Robin taking a glance.

"Oh, you a metal fan?"

"Sometimes, but actually this is for a client."

Robin looks at her with interest before she turns to put the books back in their rightful position. "Oh yeah? Client?"

Chrissy nods, handing Robin books as she re-shelves them. "Yeah. I work across the street, actually. At the tattoo parlour."

"The- You? Oh my gosh, I never would have guessed! Wait, is that offensive? I hope that isn't, it's just-"

Chrissy giggles again, her hand raising to her mouth to cover it a little. "No, I get it. A lot of people say I look out of place. I promise I'm good though!"

Robin shakes her head, putting the last of the books up. "No, no I believe you. Really. So, what's the design, if I may ask?"

"I have to draw this one band's mascot. So... reference!" She taps the book again.

"Gotcha. I'll ring you up then, if that's all you need?"

Chrissy nods, following after Robin as they head to the register. There was already a guy there, but whatever look he saw in Robin made him step out of the way easily as she ducks behind the counter and rings her up.

"And there's your change! Have a nice day Chrissy!" Robin hands her some bills back along with the book in the store's custom paper bag, Chrissy thanking her as she slides the handles over her wrist.

"Thanks Robin, have a nice day as well! And you too Steve."

Steve gives her a thumbs up as she turns and heads out the store.

The moment she steps outside into the fresh air, she lets out a deep, deep sigh.

Oh no, she was hot.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #with brief cameo of steve being there #buckingham #best friends running a bookstore together #but also a girl dealing with the really cute bookstore owner downstairs #I was thinking of cats and ended up with bookstore AU #with tattoo artist chrissy for funsies

19 notes · View notes

snowangeldotmp3 · 2 years

Note

(adding onto the ask i sent about will eye color changing) they did it gradually too, his eyes got darker the more the possession get stronger, so what you said about flayed!robins eyes losing the usual warmth to them could be literal too since her eyes get slightly darker when the mind flayer first winter soldiered her

ooooh yes!!!

robin's eyes are blue too, so the slow shift from blue eyes to dark brown eyes (and everyone noticing except robin, because the mind flayer is blocking her from registering the change in her own mind)

nancy notices at murray's, after will and robin get burned, nancy begins to notice that while robin still looks normal, something about her is off. and if she looks closely, she can see that robin's eyes are not totally blue anymore, there's a little brown in them now. (she doesn't know what this means, not yet anyways, and not until it's too late.) nancy goes up to robin, in a completely platonic way of course, pulls robin's face down to her level so she can check her eyes and get a good assessment of the situation. robin short-circuits with nancy that close to her. (the mind flayer will use this information for later...)

nancy looks again once robin's fully flayed and the dark brown eyes replacing her blue ones is...well, nancy doesn't know how to describe it. brown eyes are usually so warm, so inviting, but on robin they're cold, and nothing short of evil. when nancy's straddling robin to sedate her, she gets a brief, but still good, look at her eyes. and nancy hates to admit it, but in some evil, fucked up way, robin's reddish brown eyes are...strangely beautiful.

#got mail! 📩#anon asks #flayed!robin #rebel robin: surviving the upside down #i am a lover of brown eyes actually so <3 #robin buckley #ronance #nancy wheeler #nancy understands the mission and steve and jonathan and hopper are yelling at her to STAB HER already #and robin is thrashing around #nancy--in a moment of lesbianism--grabs robin's face #squishing her cheeks just a little with a iron grip #(the lesbianism outweighs the mind flayer for a brief moment and nancy is able to finally sedate her)#robin has no memory of nancy's iron grip on her jaw. but something about this moment Changed something inside of nancy #(unfortunately nancy will still live inside a little world of comphet for just a little while longer)#sorry lol

30 notes · View notes

the-teddy-bear-butch · 2 years

Text

Ronancetober Day 5: Multiverse

Reflect What You Are, In Case You Don’t Know

(somewhat inspired by I’ll Be Your Mirror by The Velvet Underground)

Something happens in the mirror maze. Robin and Nancy meet other versions of themselves.

#ronancetober #ronance #Robin Buckley #Nancy Wheeler #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #sapphic senate monster hunter au #werewolf robin buckley #werewolf Nancy Wheeler #very very brief GNC Ronance (not discussed but pronouns used)#vampire nancy wheeler #vampire robin buckley #wild west ronance #this is just crack guys #like I swear I wasn’t drunk or high writing this #have fun #stranger things

24 notes · View notes

dwobbitfromtheshire · 8 months

Text

If Only They Knew

18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: Steve flirts with Eddie in Scoops Ahoy with his ice cream when he realized that Eddie was watching him. . . Other things occur. I couldn't help but write this.

Steve was sitting out in the parlor this time to enjoy his ice cream. It was Sunday, so there weren't any other people in here. He was enjoying the quiet in the brightly colored store, and the fact that there wasn't anyone around to watch him eat. He was always a messy eater when it came to ice cream, and he hated it when people watched him eat it.

Steve was about to take another bite when he felt someone watching him. He looked up to find Eddie Munson watching him curiously, his own ice cream cone in his hand. Steve narrowed his eyes at Eddie. Maybe he'd stop watching if he made it sexual. That always made people look away. Steve kept eye contact with Eddie's big brown eyes as he slowly took a lick of his ice cream, moaning loudly as he did so. He took his tongue and slowly dragged it over lips, keeping up the eye contact as he did so. Eddie's were wide, and his mouth fell open, but he didn't look away. Seriously? Why wasn't he looking away?

A bit of the ice cream dripped on his finger, and Steve scowled. He lifted the finger to his mouth and put the whole digit in his mouth. He began to suck on his finger and looked back at Eddie to find that his beautiful brown eyes had grown dark. Oh, shit, was this turning him on? Steve grew warm at the thought, and he felt a twitch in his pants. Okay, Steve was turned on by this, too. Fuck seriously? The image of Steve taking Eddie behind the mall and pressing him up against the wall as Steve sank to his knees. . . Shit, Steve was beginning to get hard. He moaned loudly, his mouth still wrapped around his finger. He pulled off with a loud pop, trying not to imagine it as Eddie's dick. Eddie's eyes were even darker, and it was downright predatory. Eddie's ice cream was long forgotten. It was now leaning off to the side, the ice cream seconds away from falling off the cone.

Steve put his finger near his mouth, this time raising a second finger. He started to lick the tips of his fingers as he looked at Eddie. He swirled his tongue around his finger for a while, continuing to make moaning noises. The ice cream fell off of Eddie's cone with a splat, but Eddie ignored it. Steve’s eyes went wide as he watched Eddie's hand go under the table. He was as hard as Steve. Eddie cupped himself through his jeans and started moving his hips as he rocked against his hand. Steve slowly sank his mouth down over his fingers until they were completely in his mouth. He started bobbing his head up and down, his eyes fluttering as he completely imagined his mouth around Eddie's dick. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked hard. The arousal was building and building and building. . . Until he came. . .right in his pants. It wasn't long before Eddie did the same thing, his eyes closed with relief.

"MUNSON!" Robin's voice startled Steve out of his revere. "You made a mess all over the place!"

Steve was just as panicked as Eddie was until Steve realized that Robin was talking about Eddie's ice cream. He almost laughed until he realized that he was sitting in his own mess, and he just came in his pants at work. Fuck. He quickly dumped his own ice cream on his pants and cursed loudly.

"Goddamnit! I spilled ice cream on my shorts!" Steve said loudly.

"You started an outbreak!" Robin told Eddie.

"It's just on me!" Steve sighed. "I got an extra uniform in the back."

Although, he was going to have to go without underwear. As he was walking to the breakroom, he briefly saw Eddie smirking at him, and he wondered if Eddie was thinking the same thing. He quickly grabbed his second uniform and hurried to the employee restroom. When he came back out, Eddie was gone. He tried not to think about what had just happened for the rest of the day, but it was difficult around midday when everyone was coming out of church. He grinned delightfully at the thought of the sin he and Eddie committed right here in the parlor. It was even better when a couple of middle-aged women came in complaining about homosexuals. With a grin, he told them the best seat in the house was exactly where Steve had been sitting moments ago. When they were looking where he was pointing, he spat in their ice cream before handing it to them. He nearly giggled when they sat exactly where he told them to.

"I saw that," Robin said.

"Saw what?" Steve asked innocently.

"I don't know why you did that, but I'm just going to say thank you and get back to work," Robin said.

Oh, if only she knew. Steve glanced at the middle age women and smirked. If only they knew.

131 notes · View notes

eiightysixbaby · 9 days

Text

the lacy black pair with the little bows

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

robin’s thoughts run wild when she catches a glimpse of your panties in class… (1.4k)

cw: 18+ only — SMUT. i guess you could argue that this is perv!robin bc she’s fantasizing about reader???, fingering, v v brief blood mention. lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i hope y’all like this!! i’d really like to do a part 2, let me know your thoughts… 👀

There’s a muddied hum in Robin’s ears; the droning voice of the teacher that has melted into nothing but incomprehensible mush. Focusing on Mrs. Click’s ramblings was a near impossible task even under normal circumstances, and the present circumstances were far from that.

See, Robin’s a good student. Maybe easily distractible at times, but she tries her best to stay focused and take her notes and do well. It’s just that today you’re making it really hard to concentrate.

You sit in front of her, diagonally to the right. And she’s always been respectfully appreciative of having such a beautiful girl in such close proximity to her, if even for a 50 minute class-period.

She knows you, but she doesn’t know know you. She knows she’s seen you roaming the halls with Nancy Wheeler, she’s spotted your name on articles in the Hawkins High school paper, but she hasn’t exchanged a single word with you aside from the time you asked her to borrow a pencil. (She had, in her nervousness, given you her only pencil and was left unable to take notes the entire class.)

It would be a lie for her to claim that she wasn’t crushing on you. I mean, how could she not be? There’s no possible way anyone could expect her not to have a crush on someone like you. It’s been pretty tame, however, just little daydreams here and there.

But today. Dear God, today was testing her limits.

The thing is, Robin didn’t mean to look. She really, really didn’t. But it’s kind of hard not to when you’re in a natural line of sight and she already has a reason to look your direction because even the back of your head is pretty.

Today, you’re showing off a little more skin than usual.

It’s a simple fashion mishap. Your jeans rode down a bit too low once you sat in your seat. It happens to everyone, right? It’s just that you’re wearing these underwear, and they’re peeking out above your pants, and it’s like you’re personally taunting her.

They’re black with lace, and holy shit Robin was a goner the instant she noticed them.

Again, she didn’t mean to look. She’s trying really, really hard not to objectify you. But what the hell.

She might as well be drooling, her head propped up by her right hand, her gaze locked on you and that scandalous little garment. Uninterested in the topic at hand, she easily tunes out the teacher’s monologue. Her mind wanders; as much as she’s trying to be good and polite and respectful, her thoughts are turning out to be anything but.

Because it’s so, so fucking easy to imagine herself unbuttoning your jeans. Tugging down the zipper, hands eager to cop a feel. She can picture the way you’d shiver when her nimble fingers cupped your heat over the fabric of those pretty black panties. She can nearly hear the gasp you’d let out when the pad of her index finger teased your hole. Her mouth nearly tingles with the imaginary softness of your lips against hers, the pretty gloss you wear rubbing off on her own smirk.

She’s in too deep, because she’s imagining hooking her fingers through those panties and slowly working them down your thighs; teasing you. Locking eyes with you as she strips your bottom half bare, letting her fingers caress you carefully. The image is so clear in her brain; sliding a digit through your folds, already soaking wet for her. Your eyes flutter closed and your head tips back, exposing the column of your neck to her teeth and tongue. She can feel the warmth of your skin on her tongue as she sucks on a section of it, only pulling away when you’re mewling in a satisfied sort of pain.

You’d make the cutest sounds, there’s no doubt about it, your high-pitched little moans ringing in her ears as she imagines pushing one finger fully inside of you. She’s testing the waters, slowly pumping her index finger in and out, feeling the warmth of your inner walls engulfing it.

And when you start to buck your hips, because you just can’t take it and you need more, she’ll throw her middle finger into the mix, too. Two fingers fucking you, slowly at first then gradually picking up speed and intensity. You let her name fall from your lips, and it makes goosebumps erupt on her skin with how pretty she guesses it sounds in your mouth.

She thinks it would be fun to taunt you a little bit, get you even more riled up.

“What, pretty girl?” she can hear herself asking you after the second moan of her name.

“Feel so good,” is your reply, your voice taking on a breathy quality.

Your body is pliant under her control, arching into her touch and encouraging her actions. She knows she wouldn’t be able to take it, letting her composure slip a little as she fucks you harder with her fingers. Your cunt makes the filthiest sounds, your wetness sloshing and squelching with each pump of her palm against your sex. It only eggs her on; if she had a tail, it would surely be wagging.

She’d start kissing your neck as she fingers you, dipping down to the junction where it meets your shoulder. Maybe she’d bite down, see how you react to it. Maybe she’d let her teeth draw blood, only to lap it up with her tongue.

In real time, you shift in your seat at your desk, and it makes Robin’s whole body feel warm. A tiny bit more of your panties poke out, your ass just centimeters out of view.

In her head, her free hand grabs your ass, squeezing the doughy flesh until you mewl into her mouth.

“Don’t stop, Robin,” you’d cry, muffled by her sloppy kisses to your mouth. Her fingers curl mercilessly inside you, and if your words are anything to go by, you’re getting close to release.

She’d keep up her pace, listening to you moan and whine with each press of her fingers to that sweet spot inside of you. She can feel the ghostly press of your fingertips to her shoulder, nails digging in to brace yourself.

“Are you gonna cum for me, gorgeous girl?” is what she would ask, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Mhm,” your whimpered response reverberates inside her brain, your bottom lip sucked beneath your teeth in concentration.

She knows it would be earth-shattering, watching you cum. She knows it would be even better feeling it happen, around her fingers.

Her fantasy reaches the perfect peak, your body trembling as your orgasm rips through you. Your walls squeeze her fingers, clenching in an erratic pattern. Your head is tipped toward the ceiling, her name slipping past your lips.

“Robin,” you nearly scream.

It’s the prettiest sound she’s ever heard.

“Robin.”

It’s a plea, a chant, a prayer all in one.

“Robin!” her name comes for the third time, but this time the voice doesn’t sound so much like yours. It sounds like—

“Ms. Buckley, are you paying attention?”

Robin’s head snaps up, her posture straightening, suddenly alert. The fantasy slips out of her brain, the images going cloudy as the classroom comes back into focus.

Mrs. Click stares disapprovingly from the front of the room, tapping a pen against her palm in waiting.

Her face goes crimson, embarrassment flooding her body. She’d been completely laser-focused on you, and she finds herself suddenly taking up faith and praying to every god that no one realized she was staring so hard. Staring so hard at your ass, to be specific.

“Y-yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am,” Robin replies, voice hoarse. Of course she hadn’t been paying attention. She doesn’t have the slightest clue what’s going on.

“As I was saying,” the teacher huffs. “You’ll be partnered with Y/N for the project.”

Robin feels herself nod, even give a weak smile, but she suddenly feels like there’s cotton in her ears. The last thing she thinks she needs right now is to have to work in close proximity to you, on a project she knows nothing about because she was too busy fantasizing about finger-fucking you.

She chances a glance at you, only to be met by your gaze staring right back, over your shoulder. You give her a sweet little smile, fingers waggling in a subtle wave, oblivious to the things you’re doing to her.

She waves back, swallowing hard.

The universe might just have it out for her.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley smut #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fanfiction #divider by cafekitsune

418 notes · View notes

urhoneycombwitch · 9 months

Text

I know what they call you.

You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you. shy!reader

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous. Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

wc: 11k

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

2K notes · View notes

katethetank · 1 month

Text

Ok I’ve never written anything before, and I’m obsessed with Steddie content. So without further adieu, here’s a modern day Steddie story where Eddie comes to terms with the hard truth that his husband’s snuggles might be more popular than his world famous band. This kind of got away from me and ended up way longer than I thought it would. Oops.

Content warnings: idk, TikTok I guess?! It’s fluffy and sweet, illusions to smut at the end

Eddie Munson was a notoriously private person. Corroded Coffin was the biggest metal/alt band in the world, and despite the fame, he managed to keep his personal life just that - personal.

There of course had been rumors over the last few years of who he was married to. Among the chunky metal rings that always adorned his fingers, fans couldn’t help but notice the simple silver band on his left ring finger. Paparazzi would occasionally catch him out in public with various women, leading his fans to speculate wildly who his mystery wife was.

But as soon as the rumors got started, they were quickly shut down. He was photographed once stumbling out of a club in New York with SNL star Robin Buckley on his arm. Social media went absolutely rabid and Robin made sure to clear things up the following Saturday on Weekend Update, announcing that she was in fact, a raging lesbian.

Not too long after that, Eddie was photographed clinking wine glasses with accomplished journalist Nancy Wheeler at a romantic rooftop restaurant in LA. When rumors started swirling around them of a secret affair, Nancy’s husband (and Rolling Stone photographer) Jonathan Byers put a stop to it by posting a picture of all three of them on his socials explaining that they were long time friends and out celebrating Nancy’s nomination for a Pulitzer.

Again the rumor mill started churning when Eddie was spotted giving a piggyback ride to pro skateboarder Max Mayfield after one of her competitions. Accusations of him “robbing the cradle” had her immediately posting a video on TikTok telling everyone off, fake gagging, and saying that Eddie was like her big brother. She then pulled Eddie into the frame asking, “Would you losers seriously believe I’d be into this ugly mug?” before promptly shoving his face away. Eddie was only a little offended.

Max’s video kind of blew up though, with everyone demanding more of Eddie’s presence on the app. Reluctantly he started his own account, his first video of him backstage at his sold out Madison Square Garden show, simply flashing the devil horns, sticking out his tongue, and greeting, “Hey assholes!”

It effectively broke the internet.

He was verified within a matter of hours, and had millions of followers within the first day.

Now all he had to do was figure out what the hell he was going to post. He didn’t want to share too much of his private life, but scrolling through the comments, he could see how much his fans truly loved seeing just that brief candid moment from him. So he started sharing bits and pieces behind the scenes at his shows, shots of the guys hanging out on the tour bus, and one lazy morning, a glimpse of his sleep-rumpled self in bed and his birds nest of bed head.

The comments on that last one exploded.

Everyone wanted to know who he was sharing that bed with, asking for a peek at his wife, if she was also famous. Who was he married to for god’s sake?!

He refused to take the bait.

One afternoon he set up his living room for a TikTok live, planning on just strumming his guitar, answering questions about the new album that was coming out, maybe taking some requests for songs to play. While he was glancing at the comments and plucking away at his acoustic, he didn’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps coming towards the room. He startled when he heard, “Babe, I’m home! I got you some more Honeycombs!”

Eddie froze. And the comments went absolutely fucking wild.

“Wait, was that a dude?!”

“Did some guy just call him babe???”

“SPOUSE REVEAL?!?!”

“OMG IS HE GAY???? I LOVE THIS FOR US!!”

“Oh I am so invested in this! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈”

“Honeycombs?! Really?!”

Eddie scrambled to set his guitar down, quickly thanked everyone for tuning in, and cut off the live stream.

Steve stepped into the room with a questioning look on his face. “Babe?… what’s wrong?”

Eddie glanced at him sheepishly mumbling, “We may have just spilled the beans on a live stream.”

“You were doing a live stream? What happened? And wait, what beans?”

Sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair, Eddie stood up and walked over to Steve, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I was doing a TikTok live, playing some songs and talking about the new record. I didn’t hear you come in, and when you shouted that you were home, it was apparently loud enough for everyone to hear. So I shut it down fast before the comments got even more out of control. I didn’t know what to say!”

Steve leaned in and gave Eddie a peck on the nose, hugged him tight, and asked, “Well… how bad were the comments? Do you think people are gonna freak out?”

“Freak out? In a good way, maybe. They all seemed pretty surprised to hear a guy’s voice and were asking for a spouse reveal.”

Steve furrowed his brows and thought about it for a few moments. “What if we did?”

“Did what?”

“A spouse reveal. I gotta admit, it’s been pretty annoying having everyone assume you’re sleeping with our friends! I don’t really like the idea of being in the public eye, but what if we just did a quick video or something to put the rumors to bed for good?”

Admittedly it was a pretty good idea. Eddie liked being able to share parts of his life with his fans, and Steve was the biggest part of his life. It would be nice to show him off for a moment and finally tell the world who put that ring on his finger.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok! Let’s do it!”

Eddie grabbed his phone, opened TikTok, and got comfy on the couch. Steve sat down next to him, cuddled into his side. He started the video with the camera just on himself, took a deep breath, and hit record.

“Hey guys! Sorry to dip out of my live stream so suddenly. I was a little thrown off with that interruption, but thought it would be best to come on here and clear the air. Yes, I’m married. Yes, my spouse is a man. Yes, my favorite cereal is Honeycombs, don’t come at me for that! And this is Steve.”

He tilted his phone so both his and Steve’s faces were in the frame. Steve smiled brightly and did a little finger wave. “Hey everybody!”

Eddie giggled and turned to kiss Steve on the cheek. Even after years of being together, Eddie’s affections still made him blush. Steve turned at looked at Eddie with stars in his eyes and whispered, “I love you babe.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

They shared a brief kiss before Eddie ended the video and immediately posted it.

He effectively broke the internet again.

Millions of likes and comments flooded in, a huge wave of love and support from his fans. And of course, more questions.

“Shut up, they are so fucking cute I’m gonna puke”

“I’m so sad that the married rumors are true, but omg his husband is crazy hot! Good for him!”

“His name is Steve?! Why is that so adorable?!”

“Find yourself a man who looks at you like Steve looks at Eddie!”

“Who is this Steve?! TELL! ME! EVERYTHING!”

“We demand more Steve!”

“Ok I need more details immediately”

The demand for more Steve content did not stop. Eddie still wanted to keep his private life as private as possible, but Steve had no problem with popping up in a few videos here and there. Rolling his eyes in the background at Eddie’s antics, hands on his hips while scolding the band for being late to an interview, painting Eddie’s nails backstage before a show. Just little glimpses of Steve being Steve. His fans ate that shit up.

One night Eddie was left to his own devices while Steve was out having a “girls night” with Robin, Nancy, Max, and El. Why he wasn’t invited too he will never know. Not that he was jealous or anything. Totally not jealous. He decided to set up another TikTok live while he screwed around on his guitar. About an hour in, the front door flew open and in stumbled a very flushed, very giggly, very drunk Steve.

“BABE! I SAW ARIANA GRANDE TONIGHT!”

Eddie started laughing as Steve made his way into the living room, glancing at how the comments went absolutely apeshit again.

“Stevie, sweetheart, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Steve took the guitar out of Eddie’s hands and plopped down in his lap. “Babe, seriously! I saw Ariana Grande! Me and the girls went to some club and Nancy got us into the VIP section, and there she was! Just! Sitting there looking all cool and famous! Babe, it was awesome!”

Chuckling, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, kissed him on his temple, and pointed at his phone set up on a tripod. “Stevie, you interrupted my live stream again. Say hi to everyone!”

Steve turned his head towards the phone, eyebrows raising up, and smiled dopily. “Oh! Hi guys! Did you hear?? I saw Ariana Grande!” He then quickly snapped his drunken gaze back towards Eddie. “OH MY GOD! Babe! Do you think she’s on here?! Can you message her?!” He turned back to the phone shouting, “Ariana! I’m Steve! We should hang out! Eddie, tell her we should hang out!”

Eddie started cackling and patted Steve’s head like a puppy. “Ok big boy, you’ve clearly had enough. Sorry guys, I’m gonna have to cut the stream short and put this one to bed. And uh, yeah. Ariana Grande, if you’re into hanging out with preppy former jocks who like to snuggle while they’re wasted, let me know I guess. Goodnight!”

Eddie looked down at Steve, who had tucked himself into Eddie’s chest while he was talking, and gave a little kiss on his head before ending the live stream.

“Hmmm… sleepy.”

“I know you’re sleepy sweetheart, let’s get you into jammies and tuck you in.”

The next morning Eddie awoke to a hungover Steve groaning into his neck, and a message on TikTok from none other than Ariana Grande.

“What the fuck?!”

“Hng… too loud.”

“Sweetheart. Stevie. Wake up!”

“No.” Steve pulled the covers over his face.

“Honey, seriously, you need to wake up. You’ve gotta see this.”

“Eds, I don’t wanna see shit, I wanna sleep.”

“Stevie, do you remember coming home last night and telling everyone on TikTok that you want to hang out with Ariana Grande?”

Steve flipped the covers back off and gave him an incredulous look. “I did not.”

“Yeah princess, you did. You stumbled in talking about how you saw her at a club and wanted to hang out with her. And guess the fuck what.”

“…….what?”

Eddie turned his phone for Steve to see the message.

“What the?… ‘Hey Eddie! I caught your livestream last night and my answer is yes! Steve seems like an absolute doll, I’d love to hang out with him’”

Steve looked at him with wide eyes and just stared for few beats.

“SHE WANTS TO HANG OUT WITH ME?!”

His volume made both men wince, Steve immediately grabbing his throbbing head and groaning.

“Yes, sweetheart, apparently babbling drunk gay men are her thing. So, when should I tell her you’re free?”

The following Wednesday, Steve was a nervous wreck. He had cleaned the house from top to bottom, prepped a gorgeous charcuterie board, had wine chilling in the fridge, and checked his hair about 30 times.

“Stevie, darling, sweetheart. You’ve got to calm down.”

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?! Eddie, Ariana fucking Grande is coming to our house! How is this even happening? What if we don’t have anything in common? What if she thinks I’m an awkward idiot? I don’t wanna screw this up!”

Eddie wrapped Steve up in his arms and gave him a tight squeeze. “You won’t screw anything up. Everyone loves you Stevie. Just be you, and she’ll love you too. And if you’re freaking out, I’m a phone call away, alright? I should only be at the studio for a few hours and then I’ll be home before you know it. You two will have a great time! Ok?!”

Steve let out a long suffering sigh. “Ok.”

The doorbell rang and Eddie took his hand, walking with Steve to go greet their guest of honor. As soon as the door opened, Ariana Grande herself was standing there with a huge smile on her face. “Steve! Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you!” She immediately gave Steve a hug and barley even acknowledged Eddie standing there.

“Ok. Well. I guess I’m not needed here. Have fun you two! Don’t do anything I would do!” Steve laughed and gave him a quick peck before leading his guest into the house.

After a few hours of polishing some tracks on the new album, Eddie headed back home. He hadn’t heard from Steve the whole time he was out, and hoped that everything went smoothly with his new friend. Or whatever the hell this was.

Opening his front door, he was greeted with the sounds of giggles, clinking glass, and… are they watching Twilight?!

He pulled out his phone and started recording as he walked into the living room. “Here I am, coming home after hours of slaving away on our new album to find THIS.” He flipped the camera around to a view of Steve and apparently his new best friend, snuggled under a blanket, wine glasses in hand, a few empty bottles on the table, surrounded by a mess of crumbs, giggling at blue-tinted vampires playing baseball.

He flipped the camera back to himself, sulking “I think I’ve been replaced.”

Internet: broken.

“Did they just become best friends?!”

“Awwwww I want Steve Snuggles!”

“Living for this!!!!”

“#stevesnuggles”

“Wait, did he make her a charcuterie board??”

In the weeks that followed, #stevesnuggles took over social media. Everyone and their mother was gushing about Eddie’s adorable husband, wanting to see more of him, and his snuggles. Eddie couldn’t blame them, really. The man is adorable. But he still wanted to keep sort of a lid on their private life, so he limited most of his posts to just Corroded Coffin content. Anticipation for the new album was amping up, a tour was being planned, and the buzz was buzzing.

Unfortunately with all of the work leading up to the release, Eddie wasn’t getting enough of his daily allotment of Steve Time. He was looking forward to the weekend when his schedule was clear so he could finally have some quality time with his husband and soak up all of those famous snuggles.

Life had other plans, though. Friday afternoon he got a text from Steve saying that it was his turn to host girls night. Again, why was Eddie not invited to these things?? Not that he was jealous. Of course not. That would be crazy. He resigned himself to the fact that tonight, he’d have to share his husband.

When he stepped into their home, he immediately recognized the honking laughter of a tipsy Robin, Nancy’s adorable giggle, but there were several other voices he couldn’t decipher. Thinking ahead, he once again pulled out his phone and started recording.

“HONEY, I’M HO- the fuck?!”

It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. He flipped the camera around to focus on the absurd cuddle puddle on the floor. In a pile of what must have been every blanket and pillow in the house, was the obvious collection of Steve, Nancy, Robin, and apparently now Ariana. But then…

“Sweetheart, why are Rhianna and Taylor Swift on our living room floor?”

Steve just looked up at him pie-eyed and sweetly stated, “Girls night!” to which the bizzare collection of women shouted, “Hi Eddie!”

How many times can you break the internet before it stays broken?

“WHAT. THE FUCK.”

“Ummmmm best girls night ever?”

“How do I get an invite??”

“So Steve is just a magnet for powerful women then. Got it.”

“#STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”

Steve snuggles indeed. Eddie was so used to being in the limelight, it was a strange adjustment to have his once under the radar husband be in such high demand. Every time he posted a TikTok of the band, the comments were flooded with requests for more Steve. He did sometimes cave and give the people what they wanted. Quick videos of Steve cooking them dinner while dancing to his god forsaken pop music, sneak peeks of some of their new songs with Steve singing along, and ok, one thirst trap of him working out in their home gym. Eddie was a just a man after all, and his husband was hot.

The album was finally released and sales were through the roof. Corroded Coffin had never sold so many copies before and someone from the label insisted that their TikTok presence had everything to do with it. Was it actually them, or the love for Steve? Who’s to say. Either way, their concerts across the country were sold out in a matter of minutes and the band couldn’t wait to kick off their next tour.

The first show was in LA and Eddie had planned to do a quick TikTok before they took the stage. He started in the hallway backstage, welcoming everyone to the start of the tour, and made his way into the green room. “Alright everyone, let’s check in quick with the band and make sure these dickheads are ready to go! BOYS! ARE WE - Steve?! What the hell?”

He flipped the camera around to the view of Steve happily scrolling on his phone on one of the couches. With Dua Lipa cuddled up on one side of him and Lady goddamn Gaga on the other. What the fuck is his life?

“Babe! Hi! The girls were in town and came by to check out the show!”

“I’m sorry… THE GIRLS?! How do you even know them?!”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him like he was an idiot and said, “Lipa was on SNL and she had Robin get us connected. And Jon did a photo shoot with Stef and…basically the same thing.”

Stef?! Who the fuck is Stef? Wait right… Lada Gaga is a stage name.

Eddie flipped the camera back on himself and just. Stared. “I…I don’t know what the fuck is happening.”

Queue the comments.

“Ok is he like best friends with EVERY icon?!”

“Steve IS the icon! 💅”

“What’s a girl gotta do to get some #stevesnuggles in here?!”

“Omfg Eddie’s never gonna get his own #stevesnuggles now is he?”

“SHARE THE WEALTH”

“I can’t believe this app is free”

From there on the tour went off without a hitch and fans in every city were rabid for the new album. And of course Steve. Goddamnit. He’d occasionally see people in the crowd with “#stevesnuggles” t-shirts, or hear chants of “We want Steve!” Yeah, Eddie gets it. He wants Steve too. For himself.

Eddie took to posting a lot of videos from backstage with the band, sound checks, screwing around with the crew. And of course to appease the masses, some of Steve in his element. Putting on Gareth’s eyeliner, helping Jeff pick out his stage clothes, and rubbing Eddie’s shoulders after a grueling show. Just Steve mother henning everyone.

When they made it to New York, they had an appearance on SNL a few days before their concert. They got to catch up with Robin, meet the cast, and get a feel for what went into producing the show. Eddie hadn’t heard who the host was, not that it probably mattered much since they’d only see them at the end-of-show sign off.

He was in the middle of doing a livestream behind the scenes, walking the legendary halls of Studio 8H when he popped into his dressing room to show off the digs. “And here we have my office for the night…. Uh. Stevie? What? The fuck?” He turned the camera around to see Steve snuggled up with… goddamn Beyoncé.

“Hey babe! Did you meet Bee yet? She’s hosting tonight!”

No the fuck he didn’t meet “Bee!” And sorry, his husband is already on a nickname basis with this Queen?! Who the hell did he marry??

Goodbye internet.

“HOLY. SHIT.”

“Seriously, gay men have all the luck.”

“Two absolute queens, omg”

“BEYONCÉ GETS #STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”

“Eddie, your husband belongs to Bee now, my condolences”

“Don’t tell Jay Z”

The show went well even though Eddie was visibly shook by his husband’s new friend. Seriously, what is his life?! How much further was this going to go? He was relieved when the tour finally ended and they could go back to their bubble of domestic bliss. That is, until the next girls night probably!

Once they were back home and settled into their routine, he realized he needed to make some more content now that things have calmed down. Privacy was always important to him, but after a night of taking his husband apart over and over, he smirked and had an idea.

Quietly grabbing his phone off the nightstand, he started recording. Steve with his chaotic sex hair, neck covered in hickies, and curled up sound asleep on Eddie’s chest. A chest that was decorated in tattoos and nipple piercings, as well as fresh scratch marks. Eddie smirked at the camera, winked and whispered “hashtag Steve snuggles.”

RIP internet.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fluff #steddie #steddie fluff #modern steddie #corroded coffin #Steve snuggles #TikTok

368 notes · View notes

ikarakie · 1 year

Text

eddie's impression of steve harrington only really begins to turn around not because of henderson's constant insistence that he's a really cool dude now, but because of his brief interactions with robin goddamn buckley.

he first realises that she's affiliated with him when she pokes her head into hellfire club one day. she asks henderson if he's seeing 'the dingus' tonight, and when henderson confirms that he's picking them up, she tosses a green vest at his face. asks him to give it to him, since he's working an opening shift and left it at hers. eddie only realises later that she was talking about harrington, and the implication that he'd stayed overnight had him reeling. buckley was a weirdo. a band geek. what was king steve doing associating with her?

it only gets weirder. he goes to one of sinclair's games, and ends up a few rows behind harrington. he's whooping and cheering and so goddamn excited for the kid when he gets to play. when the band performs, he screams robin's name during the applause. she finds him in the crowd and sort of wiggles her shoulders excitedly in response. after the game, he sees him scoop her up in the biggest goddamn bear hug and kiss her on the cheek. not the kind of couple he'd expected, but they were cute. he supposed.

but then the kiddies stop her in the hallway a week or so later, asking something about a movie night at harrington's. eddie can't really help himself, he was a curious thing.

"so, buckley," he begins, leaning against a locker. "i'm dying to know how a band geek like you landed king steve as a boyfriend." to his side, henderson sighs, heavy and dramatic. robin gets the most genuinely disgusted face.

"oh, god. ew." she says, emphatically. "i am not dating steve. gross." she fucking shudders at the thought. eddie can't keep his jaw off the floor.

"no?" he asked. "but- the game, the other week. he kissed your cheek." she nodded. he gestured wildly in lieu of response, begging for more information.

"stevie and i," and eddie has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. because, seriously? stevie? she expects him to believe they're not together and she calls him stevie? "are strictly platonic. with a goddamn capital p! people can express platonic affection even if they're different genders!" henderson mocks her quietly, to which she whacks him on the arm. she turns back to eddie. "i think if anyone should understand, it'd be you, handkerchief."

eddie feels his stomach drop. robin's giving him a look. a knowing fucking look. arms folded across her chest, one eyebrow raised. surely not.

"you?" he asks. she nods. "so harrington-"

she cuts him off. "knows." and wow. wow. colour him fucking surprised. "was the first one to know. he's-" there's a pause. "he's cool. so fucking cool." she was so fond, smiling a little. "he's a really good guy. i love him to death."

and well... he believes her. truly fucking does. it's only then that he finally allows the walls he'd built around his opinions of steve harrington to falter, to allow himself to think maybe- just maybe- he is actually is a good dude.

6K notes · View notes

sweatervest-obsessed · 7 months

Text

Touch Me Baby

pairing: modern!steve harrington x modern!fem!reader

wc: 21.7k

cw: mad flirting, swearing, use of the f slur once, shattering glass, alcohol, drinking, weed, smoking, brief mentions of suicide, mentions of cheating, men being weird and implications of harassment, smut, 18+ mdni, fingering, p in v, oral (f recieving), minor praise kink, edging, teasing, multiple orgasms, wrap it before you tap it kids

a/n: set in modern times with phones and everything! i've never written anything this long before, and I really hope you guys like it!!

steve harrington masterlist

“You literally look so fucking hot oh my god.”

You rolled your eyes and checked yourself out in the mirror, smirking slightly. “I can feel you objectifying me Birdy.”

Robin rolled her eyes and collapsed on to your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I just think it’s unfair that you aren’t so emotionally and deeply in love with me.”

“Hey.” You peered over your shoulder, “I told you that I’d be your lesbian lover the second you needed one.”

She sighed and sat up on her elbows. “Yeah, but I don’t want you to do me out of pity. I want you to love me.”

You walked over and kissed her head. “ I do love you.”

“Yeah Yeah. As a friend.” She teased as you laughed and moved over to your vanity.

“Just because you’re not my type doesn't mean I don’t think you’re showstoppingly gorgeous.”

“Are you trying to get into my pants Y/l/n?” Robin teased.

“You wish Buckley.”

Robin let out the most over-dramatic sigh and collapsed on your bed again, giggling after a moment.

You laughed at her antics and checked out your makeup, your earrings, and your rings in the mirror next to your door. “Is this cute enough?”

“Did I not just say how hot—”

You and Robin had lived together for about three years now. You had become fast friends freshman year and then roommates for the last three years of your college experience. The apartment you shared was perfect because it had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and the price didn’t rise once in your entire time living in NYC. The best perk of them all was having a home phone. It was reminiscent of your childhood and you both handed out your home phone number to everyone, enjoying the messages you received from anyone and everyone.

It rang and immediately went to voicemail, as Robin had set it on vacation mode the second you moved in meaning every single phone call went directly to voicemail so you could both hear who it was. A man’s voice rang out through your shared apartment.

“Hey it’s Steve, I just landed and I’m on my way to your place, I think it’s only a twenty-minute drive but I wanted to alert the household I was on my way.”

You looked over at Robin, slightly uneasy. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting him.”

Robin shrugged and her smile was a bit brighter. Her two best friends were about to meet, and maybe even hit it off and they could be a friend group—but Robin was getting ahead of herself.

“You’re going to like him. The same level of snark, but definitely a softie under it all. And he’s my best friend, so I wouldn’t be friends with him if he sucked.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just call him your best friend in front of me and say that, I know he’s one of your best friends, which is why I’m worried. What if he thinks I’m a huge bitch or something, or like…I don’t know.”

“He’ll love you.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Well. We have twenty minutes to fix up the house so that he doesn’t think we’re complete and total slobs or anything.”

The two of you spent the next seventeen minutes unfolding your futon couch bed, frantically shoving trash in trash bins, and stuffing the dishwasher with dishes. You definitely weren’t slobs by any means, but sometimes it was easier to leave wine glasses or bottles on the coffee table, or just toss your bra onto the chair since you didn’t want to wear one anymore or…

“Which candle?”

You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the extra pillows from your room. “Does it matter?” You yelled back to Robin.

“I don’t know!”

“Well, he’s your home best friend. So whatever you think would suit the straight man you’re friends with.” You walked out and placed the two pillows on the pull-out bed.

“Okay, I’m going with Midnight Citrus because it’s my favorite and he can suck it up.”

“Whatever you say, girl….”

Both of your heads turned when you heard the knock on the door. Robin literally shrieked as she barreled towards the door and you swear you could hear Steve laugh through it.

Robin definitely knocked something over on her way over and you spent the next thirty seconds picking up the bowl and its contents from off the floor.

You had seen pictures of Steve before. There were plenty around the house of the two of them by themselves or with other friends from their hometown, so you knew Steve was an attractive man, but something about seeing him in person was a whole different beast.

And there were no pictures in the apartment to prep you for the fact that he had these thin wire-framed glasses. You could have sworn he sucked the literal breath out of you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Steve smiled that same lopsided smile you had seen on the walls and you probably would have dragged him back to your bedroom right then and there if Robin wasn’t standing right there and staring at you with the most hopeful look on her face you had seen since her breakup during sophomore year.

“It’s uh, it’s so good to finally meet you too. Heard so much about you.” You smiled at him and kept your hands awkwardly in your back pockets.

Steve nodded. “Same here. She actually doesn’t shut up about you.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“Okay, no need to be rude.” Robin huffed and haphazardly tossed Steve’s bags onto the couch.

You and Steve shared a quick look, both of you trying not to laugh.

“Ready to go Stevie boy? I know you just landed but it’s a Friday and I want to go out.”

He nodded. “I remember the text you sent me like last week as a reminder Robs. I just have to change.”

“The bathroom is the second door on the right.” You smiled at him and watched as he grabbed things.

You looked over at Robin. “Where exactly do you want to go out?”

Steve passed by you and you caught a hint of the cologne he had put on this morning. He closed the door and you had to blink a few times. “Sorry, where did you say?”

“I was thinking we could just go to the Cubbyhole…”

“Robin, we are not taking him to Cubbyhole and ruining our reputation there.”

“It’s literally not that big of a deal.”

“Babe, we are not bringing your straight man friend to a lesbian bar.”

“Fine then—”

“And definitely not Henrietta’s either.” You cut her off.

Robin crossed her arms. “ Well, then where do YOU want to take him? Because I’m not going to—”

“Girl, please. It’s like you have no faith in me. Who showed you both of those bars in the first place?”

“Fine then.”

You smiled at your victory and watched as Robin walked over to the little whiteboard you had in the hallway. Robin erased the bottom half of the words but kept the tally up top. “So where are we going tonight?”

“Are you okay with more of a just ‘sitting and drinking’ bar instead of clubbing tonight? Or at least we start at a bar and then move on to clubs?”

Robin’s face twisted, but then she conceded. “Ugh, fine.”

“Why don’t we start at Nothing Really Matters?”

“Which one is that?”

Steve popped out of the bathroom right as Robin asked that question, causing you to stutter a bit in your answer.

Steve was wearing these blue jeans that fit his thighs his ass him so well, and some clearly well-loved white Nike sneakers. But what got you was the shirt combo he was wearing. A tight black tee, covered by a short-sleeved patterned button-up, that was unbuttoned and just tight enough to fuck you up.

Plus, you were sure you saw a silver chain around his neck, which made you wonder what it would look like when if he was above you.

“I-I…um. It’s the one in.” You bit the inside of your cheek and looked back at Robin. “The one in the 50th Street subway station.”

Robin raised her eyebrow at you, but you just shook your head, deciding to ignore what just happened and barrel through.

“A bar in a subway station?”

You smiled over at Steve. “It’s not as gross as it sounds. I swear. It’s one of my favorite little spots that not a lot of people know about so there’s almost always seating and they have really good drinks there too. Besides, it’s in the station so if Robin wants to abandon us for some clubbing then the train is right there.”

He nodded and put his stuff away, while you looked back over at Robin who was making a face at you.

“What?”

She huffed and went into the kitchen.

When you just stared at her, confused, she aggressively made a small wave for you to follow her. You sighed and obliged, managing to walk directly into Steve’s chest because you weren’t paying attention.

“Shit! Sorry.” Your hands were against his chest while he had one of his hands on your waist.

“N-no it’s fine.” He gave you a sheepish smile and quickly pulled his hand off your waist, but your skin was covered in goosebumps from how close you two were.

You quickly hurried into the kitchen where Robin was impatient tapping her foot. “Seriously?”

“W-what?” you smoothed down the front of your top, trying not to look up at her.

“You know what.”

“Birdy I–”

“No, save it. I don’t want to fight. I just want to know why you’re so against going clubbing tonight when that was the original plan.”

If you were to tell Robin the truth, it would be because you weren’t sure you wouldn’t end the night with her best friend in your bed, kissing him like the world was ending, doing things that would have her kicking you out of the apartment and her life.

Or maybe it’s because you want to spend the entire night just talking to Steve and listening to his voice and learning every single thing about him. After all, you were utterly entranced.

“I just, I worked all day, and now that we’re actually going out…I don’t know if I have the energy to go all out.” This wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the full truth. You had worked twelve hours today, and even before Steve had arrived, you had been dreading going out anyway.

Robin’s face twisted a little bit. “It’s Steve's first time visiting me in the city and I wanted to show him around and show him all the places that I get to have fun.”

“And for him to have a friend for when you inevitably win the bartender’s number tonight and go back with her to her place….”

Robin’s cheeks turned bright red and she huffed again. “What–no–okay so maybe a bit but–”

“Look, babe, if you want to go to the Cubbyhole, I am more than supportive of that, it’s just that it’s not what I’m in the mood for. You could always ask Steve to go with you. Or ask him what he wants. And if he’s okay with going out, we can all start at the bar, and then we can split up based on how we are all feeling. Steve literally just got off of a plane not even an hour ago.”

The two of you agreed on a plan and walked back into the living room, where Steve had been shifting his bags around, and had his phone open.

“Are we ready?” He stood up and smiled at the both of you.

You both nodded and smiled at one another. One of you was excited to start the night. And the other was dreading what would happen when Robin inevitably left you alone with her hot best friend from home.

_________________________________________________________________________

The three of you had managed to snag one of the tables up against the wall of the bar. Steve sat on one side, and you sat on the other, with Robin between you. It was the perfect setup for everyone since Robin was in between her two favorite people on the planet, and you got to look at Steve frequently because he was in your direct line of sight.

It was most definitely the alcohol, or maybe it wasn’t, but Steve was getting more attractive by the minute.

“I’ll go get us another round!” Robin excitedly grabbed all three glasses and ran back off to the bar to get more drinks. While you were so grateful that it was going so well, you couldn’t help but Steve was feeling the same way you were.

Were you such a bad friend if you were actually excited for Robin to leave the two of you alone together?

“So how did you meet Robin?”

You blinked a few times before looking over at Steve. It was dimly lit, but you were seated next to the lamp on the wall, so he was bathed in a red glow. He must have been some sort of Greek god or something because no one can look that good in any lighting at all times.

“She didn’t tell you already?”

Steve shook his head, smiling slightly.

You bit your cheek again and smiled. “Okay so. We met in our first year here, and I wanted to beat the shit out of her, oh my god, she like, never shut up. And while I love her for it now, it was causing some strained tensions between the two of us. So we were in the same class and got partnered for a project about Women’s history, specifically, authors who we deemed as important. And so I offered up Toni Morrison, who is probably my favorite author of all time, and Miss Indiana over there told me that her books were mediocre at best and wanted to do a project about Virginia Woolf. Then I called her gay, and she freaked out. Not in the aggressive way you’re thinking, but simply because I knew she was a queer woman, and it freaked her out that someone could tell. Like only a gay woman picks Virginia Woolf.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed a little bit, and you could tell he was unsure about the path this story was taking, but you continued on.

“She ended up letting me win the argument and we put together the most beautiful slideshow on god’s green earth. I mean, seriously to this day, I think about the transitions. A good PowerPoint can make or break a class—anyway. After that, Robin didn’t speak to me for the rest of the week.”

“Which is valid because I thought she was going to fucking hate crime me since my experience with people knowing I’m gay is either Steve or getting called a fag so…” Robin placed the drinks down in front of the respective people and sat down on her stool.

“Until…” You took a sip of your drink, cutting her off so you could finish the story.”We attended the same party that Friday night at Vickie’s house—I’m assuming you know all about Vickie and the mess that was—anyway. We were at Vickie's place and I went into the kitchen where some girls were making fun of Birdy and calling her some really awful shit because she was from Cowland, and so I called them all a bunch of cunts and then defended my homegirl because women support women, especially queer women. Then she kissed me, and—she’s actually not that bad of a kisser if I’m being so honest with you—and then we’ve been best friends since.”

“I’m a phenomenal kisser, excuse you.”

You smiled and nudged her with your elbow. “Sure thing Birdie. You’re nowhere near the bottom of my list though. I think Malcolm is—remember him?”

Robin burst into laughter. Steve looked between the two of you, extremely confused by the entire situation—it was written all over his face.

“He used to—” You couldn’t breathe because of how hard you were laughing. The sentence was virtually unfinishable. “He-He would…” You tried to take a few breaths. “He would, uh, spray cologne in his mouth instead of using a mint because he thought that’s what it was for—”

You and Robin collapsed against one another, back into your fits of laughter. This had Steve cracking up, not just at the fact that this man was stupid, but because you and Robin’s laughs were contagious.

“She didn’t figure it out until the fourth date.” Robin blurts out, causing you to wipe away the tears in your eyes and shove her slightly.

“Shut UP. I only kissed him like twice before then and it was just pecks.”

You caught a glance of Steve out of the corner of your eye, and he was looking right at you. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment and the two of you stopped time for a moment. The corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up into a smile before he broke eye contact and looked back at Robin.

“Wood in the mouth takes a whole new meaning—”

“Oh please. Don’t even start with that—”

“I’m just saying your choices in partners–”

“At least I didn’t date a married woman–”

“WHAT.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Steve. “She didn’t tell you?”

Robin started hitting your arm. “No. I. did. Not!”

You laughed and used one of your hands to shove hers away from you. “It was like a three-month relationship but she realized–”

Robin shifted tactics and clamped a hand over your mouth so you couldn’t finish the sentence. After a moment she made a gagging sound and quickly pulled her hand away. “Did you just fucking lick my hand?”

You winked at her and looked back at Steve. “She knew this woman’s wife too. A month into dating Robs found out. Rough semester.”

“Oh my god. Robin. Who are you? What else have you done that I don’t know about?”

“That’s it. If you’re going to tell him all of my wrongdoings, I’m out.” Robin downed her drink and stood up. She kissed your cheek and grabbed her purse off of the chair she was sitting on.

“Remember to wear protection there kid.”

She rolled her eyes at you and turned towards Steve. “I know I—”

“Robs, seriously, it’s okay. Go have fun. I have been traveling all day. And I don’t mind talking to Y/n—”

“Unlike someone here, I’m not going to abandon you, Steve, don’t worry.”

Steve’s hand rested over his heart. “You’re too kind.”

Robin scoffed but was smiling the whole time. “Don’t wait up. Mom, Dad, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, she left you and Steve sitting in the bar.

“So Steve, what else do you want to know about our girl??”

The two of you spent the next three hours sitting at the bar, ordering drink after drink. Eventually, you and Steve were knee to knee, your head on his shoulder when you laughed too hard, trading stories about Robin. Nice didn’t even begin to describe the way his cologne smells when you would rest your head on his shoulder, giggling about something he said. Or the way his hand felt when it rested on your thigh as the two of you talked and talked and talked.

Or when the two of you couldn’t stop giggling on the subway as you told him about the time Robin threw up on someone on the subway after you both had been drinking all day during last year’s Saint Patrick’s Day.

Or when you stumbled slightly on the street, clinging to Steve as he clung to you. Enjoying the sound of his voice as he whispered things into your ear.

Or as your back was up against the wall next to your door, you watched Steve’s hands use the key and unlock your door, except both of you forgot the fact that the bolt was also locked, meaning Steve slammed his face right into the door since it wasn’t moving. You clamped your hand over your mouth, dying of laughter, watching as Steve tried not to laugh at the door himself, instead smiling brightly at you, with his head against the door.

Or when you both stood in the hallway of your apartment, neither one of you wanting the night to end, toeing the line. Eyes pretending they weren’t staring at lips. Hands fluttering around, almost grabbing one another. An inch away from more than just friends.

______________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you awoke to an empty apartment and a text from Robin saying that the two of them decided to “hit the town”.

You took your time. Decidedly talking yourself out of everything that had happened last night, especially when Robin had left you and Steve alone. It was dumb of you to even think about potentially betraying Robin’s trust like that. She didn’t bring Steve here to add him to your collection of failed lovers—and even if she did, you had a sinking feeling that Robin would choose Steve.

It’s not to say that she didn’t love you, adore you, and wish nothing but the best for you, but you wish to never even put her in that position.

So instead, you decided to take your mind off of everything by spending the afternoon in one of your favorite little hole-in-the-wall coffee shops that was only a few minutes walk away from your place.

You had managed to snag your favorite seat: a comfortable chair next to the window, and a plug. The plug was the best part since it meant you rarely had to get up and could just charge your devices without having to leave the spot you were in for potentially hours. And today was one of those days. The collection of mugs on the table grew as the hours of the day went on. By the time hour four had rolled around, there were about five mugs and two plates.

That’s when the world did that thing again, when it decided to start ruining your day. First, your laptop was overheating more than usual, which was just plain irritating. Then, they had run out of the panini you were going to get for lunch. The final straw, however, was when one of your exes came waltzing up to the table.

“Y/n, it’s been so long. How are ya?”

You tried not to let a full resting bitch face take over, but to any observer, you were not happy to see the man in front of you. “Malcolm. Hey. I’m good.”

“I’m doing great too. Mind if I sit? I just can’t believe I ran into you here.”

Your breath hitched and that little voice in your head screamed panic!

“Um—actually, well, I come here all the time and you know that…Second, this seat's taken.”

“Well I’ve been here for about five minutes now and no one has taken that seat–”

“You’ve been watching me for five minutes? That’s fucking creepy Malcolm.” You tapped your finger against your keyboard nervously, eyes darting around, hoping someone would catch on to how uncomfortable this was for you.

“Please. That chair isn’t for anyone now is it?”

“Oh I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

It’s still unsure if you audibly let out a sigh of relief seeing Steve approach the table, and take the seat next to you.

Malcolm crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Look bud, I don’t know if you’re trying to play the hero card here by swooping in to try and save some damsel in distress you don’t know just to get her number, but you can right fuck off.”

Steve turned and looked at you. “Is he bugging you, Y/n? Because I’ll fucking kick his ass…”

You smiled and placed your hand on top of Steve’s thigh under the table, where Malcolm couldn’t see. You gave it a squeeze, hoping to god he understood how grateful you were at the moment for him. “Steve, this is Malcolm…you remember…from the other night.”

“Shut the fuck up—this is cologne guy?”

You nodded. Throughout the rollercoaster of being approached by an ex who was kind of threatening you, inside your favorite coffee shop, while you were alone, your heart rate shot up. Your heart was pounding. But when Steve put his hand on top of yours, you thought your heart rate would skyrocket.

And then the weirdest thing happened, it didn’t. Steve started rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, and your heart rate went down. If this was on purpose, you might never know, but this simple gesture from someone you have known for mere hours had your breathing even out and your heart rate slide back down to within reason.

Wasn’t it written somewhere that love makes your heart beat out of your chest?

That love makes your soul bleed and your eyes weep. Love is supposed to make you crazy and worship the other person till the ends of the earth. It’s supposed to be overwhelming and make you feel like you could burst just from how much love you hold within yourself. It was a disease, unable to be cured—a madness. It’s all-consuming, unforgiving, a fire that cannot be tamed. Something you willingly killed yourself for. Ended it all because the idea of losing it was a fate worse than death

What you’re feeling couldn’t be love then. That’s what you had decided. You weren’t going batshit crazy over the idea of risking your life for him or losing your mind over the thought that he might not love you back. It was just a plain and simple joy: sitting next to him, his hands on yours.

Your heartbeat had found its way back to normal, and your mind began to refocus on the confrontation in front of you.

By the time your vision refocused after the thirty seconds you managed to blackout, Malcolm was glaring at Steve but starting to walk away. Whatever Steve said, worked, and you looked over at him, confused. " I think I must have blacked out or something because how the hell did you get him to..."

Steve shrugged. "If you missed it, you missed it."

"You're joking right?"

Steve shrugged and smiled. His hand was still on yours, but you completely forgot about it—

"What are you working on?"

—Til now.

You begrudgingly took your hand away from his and brought it up to the keyboard of your laptop, clicking it awake so he could see what you had been working on. The two of you spent the next hour sitting and talking about your courses, which were all a bunch of nonsense anyway since you were a second-semester senior with barely anything to do.

"You're taking a metal-welding class for credit?"

You smirked and nodded. "When I tell you college is a joke, I truly mean it. I kind of love it though. Robin, however, dislikes being outlesbianed by someone who is not a lesbian. But I think I'm getting pretty good at it too."

_____________________________________________________________________________

Two hours later, you and Steve found yourselves as the last two in the coffee shop, still talking about anything and everything you possibly could—wherever the conversation led you.

When it was time to get kicked out, Steve helped pack up your things, and you both started the short walk back to the apartment where you ended up raiding the "delinquent Cabinet" as it had been affectionately named and properly labeled.

By the time Robin got home from her shift, you and Steve had demolished a joint, several shooters, half a bottle of prosecco, and half a bottle of vodka. The conversation had never stopped, with the two of you always finding some way to stay touching to one another. You couldn't deny that the feeling of Steve calmed you down immensely, and the courage you were feeling from the past few hours helped with the want to have your hands on him.

But when Robin walked into your apartment, you and Steve sobered up a tiny bit, deciding to leave some space between you both. You missed the way his hand felt on your calf, absentmindedly massaging it as the two of you talked about the difference between weed from Indiana and weed from a major city.

“Hey you two…”

“Birdy!” You exclaimed. Your eyes were fading away from the red of smoking, but your smile was lazy and your body felt heavy, but not in a bad way.

“Ah, I see we broke into your stash?”

You smirked slightly, and nodded. “Well if Mr. Harrington is going to smoke good weed, no offense to your friend back home, then he needs the best.”

“Eddie sells good weed.” Steve defended his friend from home but it just made you giggle.

“Steve, that joint you gave me tasted like the equivalent of watered down vodka. It’s good, but it’s not the best. You can’t deny that mine was waaaaayyyyyyy better. Besides, it came from a pretty girl so it’s automatically better than Eddie’s.”

Steve’s cheeks blushed slightly as he looked over at Robin. “How was work?”

Robin’s eyes shifted between the two of you on the couch, but then settled on Steve. “How much did she have?”

“Don’t wanna know Birdy!” Your voice sang out across the room.

Steve shrugged. “Work?”

She huffed and hung up her coat, admitting defeat on getting information out of a crossed-you. Robin kicked off her shoes and grabbed one of the bottles off of the counter–the one that was still half full–and joined the two of you on the couch. Robin managed to fit herself perfectly between you and Steve, causing you to frown slightly, but say nothing.

“I almost punched an old lady but nothing new.” Robin took a long swing from the bottle of wine.

“Was it that cunt Mrs. Defejeki?”

“Woah, language.”

“What are you five?” You rolled your eyes at Steve’s comment and picked up the remainder of the joint out of the ashtray, trading the weed for the rest of the bottle of wine. You and Robin shared basically everything. There were always a few exceptions, but still. If you started a bowl, Robin would finish it. If Robin did a shot, you did a shot. And while you were both built differently, the mix of shit the two of you ingested managed to get the both of you to about the same place.

Robin just relit the joint in her mouth, nodding at you. “You’d think she’d go somewhere else to buy eggs if she always has something fucking stupid to say about our eggs. Ma’am, no offense, but you’re in a fucking city. If you want fresh eggs, get a friend with a coop on a roof or some weird shit.” She took a long drag, eyes rolling back and her eyelids closing.

You nodded. “Or just…leave the fucking city.”

This caused both you and Robin to burst into a fit of giggles, causing the latter to cough a little bit since she was still inhaling.

You felt Steve’s eyes on you the whole time, but it only made you warm and fuzzy inside…or maybe that the combination of shit you put in your body. But either way, his eyes were gorgeous. You couldn’t help looking back at him, trying to locate every single color that reflected off of his eyes in the dim lighting. It didn’t help that his eyes were redder than yours, but he was still just as stunning to you.

Robin leaned in front of you, blocking your view of the gorgeous specimen across from you on the couch, and placed the filter back in the ashtray. “Now what kiddos.” She placed a hand on your thigh and looked over at you, a smile on her face.

“Did you wanna go out? Because I’m a little decapitated at the moment.”

This caused Steve and Robin to burst at the seams. You furrowed your eyebrows as Steve and Robin kept laughing at you. Everytime they managed to calm down a bit, they would look at one another and burst out laughing again.

“What!” You grumbled, shoving your foot against Robin’s thigh, trying to get her to pay attention to you again. “Whattttttt.”

“It’s—” She giggled. “Not decapitated–HA–Incapt—” She couldn’t speak, she giggled so much. “Fucxk Steve.” She heaved out. “How the fuck do you say it?”

Steve, who was not much better than Robin at the moment, was wiping literal tears from his eyes.

“Incoorperat—fuck—wait.” He giggled again, and you were sure a flame just washed over your body, leaving you with goosebumps. “In—Cah—Pass–ih–tay–ted.”

He slowly sounded out the word like he was in the middle of an eighth grade spelling bee.

You slapped Robin's arm. “I literally said that!!”

Robin and Steve burst into another fit of laughter.

The group of you continued to giggle, and talk over one another. All of you filled to the brim with smiles and laughter and stories to tell.

At some point you had changed into your pajamas, most likely when Robin had decided to call her night and go to bed. You, on the other hand, had changed into your pajamas, and gone back out into the kitchen to clean up the mess you had made during the night’s festivities. Steve, who was still awake, offered to help you, like the gentlemen you were learning he was.

The two of you cleaned the kitchen, talking about your childhoods, comparing the worlds you grew up in–their likeness, their differences.

And somehow 11 pm turned into Midnight. And then Midnight became 2 am. And then 2 am had become 6 in the morning.

You had spent the entire night, sitting on your couch, talking to Steve Harrington.

Since it was early enough in the morning, you invited Steve to come and sit on the fire escape with you, and watch the sunrise.

It really sucked visually when there was no sun to watch rise since the sky was overcast and gray, but that didn’t stop you from enjoying Steve’s company.

The two of you sat in silence with one another. You and Robin had always joked about how much you hated domesticity, the thought of just existing with someone else for the rest of your life was definitely a thought that scared you. Especially doing things as simple as laundry or the dishes, eating your meals together, or sitting on the fire escape and watching the sunrise together. But this moment, with Steve, made your heart ache. You never wanted this moment to end. It was a new drug you didn’t know you needed. And now that you had it, how were you supposed to give it up?

“I really appreciated last night–tonight—the past several hours.”

You looked away from the street, and over at Steve. “I-...I really enjoyed it too.”

He smiled softly at you, and you have no idea what came over you, maybe it was bravery. But you reached over and brushed some of the hair in his face, behind his ear. It was intimate, maybe too intimate for people who were supposed to be friends by proxy of Robin Buckley and nothing else.

You could feel Steve’s breath hitch and for a singular moment you regretted everything. You regretted staring at him in the bar. You regretted getting coffee with him. You regretted telling him about your thesis. You regretted sitting next to him during your movie night. You regretted the movie night. You regretted staying up and talking to him for hours on end, wasting away the night until he knew almost every single thing about you. You regretted suggesting coffee on your fire escape when you realized it was six in the morning. You regretted brushing his hair out of the way.

But most importantly, you regretted not putting your coffee cup down when you did because the hot liquid spilled all over your lap when you quickly retracted your hand and stood up.

“Shit–Fuck. Sorry.” You watched as the liquid covered your bare legs and as the mug clattered across the fire escape, and off the edge, shattering on the ground below.

“Shit–are you okay?”

You were shaking your head. The coffee was fucking hot, that was for sure. And that was at least your excuse for the tears that sprang to your eyes. Especially since you really liked that mug too. Steve put his mug down and crawled through your window. “Where are your towels??”

Your hands covered your face as you vaguely mumbled something adjacent to ‘the closet’. Steve had no idea which closet you meant, so he grabbed the dish rag hanging off of the stovetop and made his way back across the living room and through the window.

“Are you okay?” He handed you the towel and you wiped off the burning hot liquid. Luckily, you barely had enough coffee to kill you, so your legs were just a bit red from the quick extreme change in temperature.

Robin, who had heard the commotion ran out of her room in a tired stupor and looked around, panicking. “Is everything okay?”

Steve looked back into the apartment at Robin. “She–uh, she spilled her coffee and the mug went over the railing and she’s not burnt or anything but—yeah.”

Robin furrowed her brows and made her way over to the window. “Sweetheart, why are you up this early? It’s not even seven am.”

You shook your head, and that’s when the thunder started. You aggressively sighed and made your way back through the window into the apartment, following Steve who had done just that moments prior.

“I'm going to go take a shower.” You quickly made your way to your room before Steve or Robin could say anything.

You grabbed your lotion and a hair towel from your closet, alongside your robe, and headed into the bathroom. Once you closed and locked the door, you looked down at your legs. The red was starting to fade away, thank God, and there was no sign of bubbling so at least your embarrassing blunder wasn’t going to give you physical injury—only emotional.

Steve and Robin’s hushed whispers carried down the hall but you had no idea what the two of them were talking about, only that it was probably about you. You decided to ignore it and splash some water on your face.

God, how fucking embarrassing was that? You weren’t one to get flustered by men, or women, or really anyone, but this? What the fuck was that? Spilling hot coffee all over your lap?

And Steve had sprung right into action, could he be any more perfect? My god you were fucked.

It was at that moment that you realized you left your phone on the kitchen counter. It’s not that you couldn’t shower without music, but you preferred not to. So now you have to contemplate the dilemma of going out and facing your best friend and her best friend who were definitely talking about you, while you were only in a robe, or do you just suffer in silence.

When you heard the front door slam shut, you had your answer. Assuming that both of them had decided to go out to breakfast and give you some space, you shoved your clothes into the hamper in the closet in the bathroom and opened the door.

And there was Steve, with his hand up, as if he was about to knock. “Hey—sorry.”

“Oh–” You took a step back, and only looked at his face for a moment, a little too embarrassed to really make eye contact with him.

“Sorry, it’s just—I–uh, Robin went to get us some breakfast from this place…She wanted me to let you know, and you had been in there a while without the water running so I–uh–wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You looked up at him and almost swooned at the sincerity in his eyes. Could this man be any more perfect? Did he want to talk to you? You had only been in the bathroom for like, five minutes without turning on the water?

“I’m fine Steve, thank you for asking. I wanted to…um…apologize for earlier when I–”

Steve shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize, seriously–”

“No I so do, I literally made a move on my best friend’s best friend, and almost completely unwarranted too–”

You were cut off by the feeling of Steve’s lips on yours.

It was like heaven was on earth, and every single one of those thoughts came back to your mind. Steve’s lips—having coffee in the mornings with him. His eyes—getting dressed up and going out to lunch and running errands with him. His smile—making dinner with him and doing the dishes afterward. His hair—the sight of his head between your legs—

He pulled away the second he realized you weren’t kissing back and started to follow down the same path of panic you had just been on. “Shit—I read that so wrong–fuck, I didn’t—”

You pulled yourself out of whatever stupor you were in, grabbed Steve Harrington by the back of his neck and shoved his face into yours—lips crashing against the others. His hand flew around your waist and pulled you up against his body.

He tasted like mint chapstick, something you weren’t sure you were expecting, but it just added to how attractive he was.

Steve slowly walked you backwards, until the back of your thighs hit the counter. Steve all but picked you up while you hopped backward onto the counter. He was once again your knight in shining armor when he held you in place, saving you from toppling over into the sink. You laughed against his lips, causing him to smile and pull away for a moment. “You’re clumsy aren’t you.”

You watched as his chest rose and fell, just as quickly as yours. You pulled him into another first kiss, wanting to feel his lips again. “You have no idea.” You mumbled, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Steve moved his lips away, starting to kiss up your jaw, preening at every little gasp and inhale and sound you made. He squeezed your hips and moved your waist slightly, giving you the hint you needed to start grinding on him. His teeth grazed your ear and you let out a moan, rolling your body up against his.

Steve let out a breath against your neck making your skin break out into goosebumps. Your right hand was clutching the kitchen countertop, while your left hand had made its way up his chest and on the back of his neck. Your fingers wove into his hair, yanking on it slightly as he continued to kiss lightly down your neck.

Something you never thought would happen today was hearing Steve Harrington moan. It was one of the hottest sounds you had ever heard in your life, causing you to pull on his hair again just so you could hear it again.

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me here.” He groaned against your neck and pulled you directly against him.

“So do something about it.” You sighed out gripping the counter tightly.

You felt him smirk against your skin and pull away from you, much to your dismay, which you made known by your groan. "Steve please."

"Say it again Princess."

Your eyes met his as you bit your lips. "Please."

A wave of something came over your entire body at the look Steve gave you when spoke.

"Anything you want, pretty girl."

Something else you had never thought would happen today was the sight of Steve Harrington kneeling before you on your bathroom floor between your legs.

You had basically prepped for this moment since you were completely naked under the robe you were wearing, but the thought of a shower was now far from your mind. Steve kissed your thigh, causing you to suck in a breath, and grip the countertop impossibly harder.

He slowly kissed up your thigh, moving your legs so that they were over his shoulders.

You moaned out his name, causing him to falter for only a moment. He groaned against your skin and squeezed your thigh with his hand. “Fuck me gorgeous.”

You licked your lips, unable to lift your head from the way it was resting on the mirror.

"Sweetheart, eyes on me."

You moaned and inhaled, looking down at the man between your legs. His eyes were already on yours, as he slid both of his hands up, pulling you directly against his mouth.

The feeling of his lips against your cunt made you let out the most strangled sound, trying your best to contain anything above a whisper.

You could have cummed at the way he was looking at you, but just rocked your hips against his mouth, hoping for a bit more of the feeling of him.

“Come on pretty girl.” He licked up your cunt, causing your body to involuntarily jolt a little bit. “I know you can make prettier sounds than that. I wanna hear them. I want the neighbors to know who’s fucking you like this–”

There was a knock on the front door, slightly frantic, but not panicked.

“Hey, guys? I accidentally locked the door, can you come get it for me?”

You let out a little gasp, your breath stuttering as you teetered on the edge of the counter and on an orgasm. Steve pulled away and kissed your thigh quickly. You leaned your head back against the mirror and just gripped the counter, coming to terms with the fact that your best friend just cock blocked you, and that Steve was no longer between your legs, eating you out like a starved man.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He cooed, standing up and kissing you quickly. “I know I know.”

You whined when he pulled away, the taste of you on his lips was not one that either of you would forget for at least the rest of the day, probably your lives.

“I’m gonna turn on the shower and then go let her in—.”

Your phone pinged with a text from Robin as Steve turned the shower on for you. You squeezed your legs together, trying to get any sort of release from the pent-up orgasm just sitting in your gut.

“You wouldn’t do anything without me, pretty girl, would you.”

“I could hurt you, Steve Harrington.” You muttered but nodded to his statement.

He smirked slightly but then closed the door behind him and you heard him make his way to the door, to let Robin into the apartment.

It wasn’t even 8 am and you hadn’t slept and the day was getting longer by the minute.

_____________________________________________________________________

After that morning, you had somehow managed to miss Steve at every turn, causing your frustration to build throughout the day, especially since he was leaving the next night.

And then, because of your classes, you managed to not see Steve at all for the rest of the trip, except for the few minutes where the two of you crossed paths, with Robin.

The last time you were face to face with Steve Harrington alone for more than a few seconds was when he was tongue-fucking you on your bathroom counter. And it was pissing you off.

But one day, a few days after Steve had flown home, your phone pinged. And when you saw that one Steve Harrington had started following you on instagram, you followed him back embarrassingly fast.

The only thing that was more embarrassing then that was how quickly he dmed you after.

And suddenly you were attached to your phone: Constantly checking it to see if he texted you, smiling at your screen whenever his photo popped up, giggling at his cheesy jokes out loud. Your demeanor had completely changed. Instead of the consistent snark and attitude, you had a more pleasant and approachable demeanor. You would wake up early in the mornings and make breakfast for Robin before she was even out of bed. At the clubs, you would dance and drink with people, but never danced with them for more than one song, and didn’t take anyone home either. Sometimes you would even opt to sit there on your phone, texting Steve.

But after three weeks of being on the outside of whoever was making you feel this way, Robin had enough. She was going to find out who this mystery person was, and how the hell they managed to make you act like this.

“Who the fuck have you been texting?”

You looked up from your phone, immediately clicking it off. “What are you talking about?”

Robin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve been on your phone nonstop for the past two weeks, smiling at it like some sort of lovestruck idiot, so who is it? Who are you smitten for?”

“Pshh–I’m not—I think you’re losing it, or something.”

“Is it a girl?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“So what’s his name then huh?”

You looked away from her, staying silent.

“You can’t pretend like you haven’t been smiling at your phone, or that you haven’t been drifting off into space…You’re literally doing it right now?”

You blinked the images of Steve out of your mind and shook your head.

“You’re delusional—” Just as you looked over at Robin, she was on top of you, having launched herself across the room in an attempt to get your phone from your hands. Unfortunately, Robin launched herself at you with such force that the two of you toppled over and she managed to grab your phone, snatching it from your hands.

Right before she could slither out of your grasp, you grabbed her ankle and yanked her back towards your body. “Robin give me my PHONE.”

This was an unfortunate situation for many reasons. The first was that Robin escaped your grasp and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. The second was that your phone unlocked with her face so it was relatively easy for her to snoop. The third reason happened so painfully slowly. You heard her laughter die off and silence take over. She had discovered who you had been texting.

And you just stood across from the bathroom door, leaning against the wall and bouncing your leg, eyes wide, heart beating loudly, as you could feel Robin looking through everything you had been saying to Steve.

She had been your best friend for years so she knew how you texted when you flirted, and to make matters worse, she knew how her other best friend texted when he was flirting too.

Suddenly the door opened quickly and Robin handed you your phone back.

“Birdy—”

She shook her head. “I’m going to go for a walk.” Her voice shook a little bit and all you could do was stand there, knowing better than to try and prod her. “I’m not—I just need to think and then we can talk about it.” She muttered.

You watched as Robin grabbed her coat, her purse, and her airpods before you watched the door slam shut.

The next thirty-seven minutes were filled with silence and a lot of panic cleaning. Suddenly your bed had new sheets in it, you had taken out the trash, the dishes had been done, you swept the kitchen—and even lit that midnight citrus candle Robin loved so much.

Ever since becoming friends, you and Robin simply didn’t fight. The two of you got along so well that it felt like you were made for each other sometimes. But right now? Now was not one of those times. Instead, you paced around in literal circles because the guilt of non stop texting Steve was eating you alive.

But it’s not like you did anything wrong either. The two of you had only been texting and nothing more. Sure it was almost every second you possibly could and he did take up all available space in your head, especially since the two of you never got around to round two of your bathroom scene—let alone finishing the first session.

You were not dating Steve Harrington. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t do anything else without Robin’s knowledge and consent of the issue in the first place.

You looked up when the door closed, making eye contact with your girl. In her hand, she had a brown paper bag and a drink carrier carrying her favorite drink in it, alongside yours. You smiled at her, hesitantly because she really could have thrown the drink in your face and you would have accepted it. But instead, Robin gestured towards the balcony and you nodded, grabbing some napkins and opening the window so she could step out onto the fire escape.

Once you both were through, you each sat in your respective spots, delegating the drinks and the pastries she had picked up on her way home from whatever path she had taken herself on. The two of you did this in complete silence. At first, it was nerve-wracking, but the peaceful knowledge of the fact that you both could move in sync with one another felt good.

You both sat and watched the people pass by, taking sips of your drinks, and taking small bites out of each of the pastries. You weren’t going to speak first—that much was obvious.

After a moment, Robin sighed and looked at you. “You like him a lot.”

Not a question, just a fact.

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Hmm.” Robin’s mouth twisted, but not into anything malicious. She looked down at her hands. “I wish you told me you liked him sooner, because he clearly—uh, he clearly likes you back.”

Your cheeks tinged with pink, and your hands rubbed at your cheeks, trying to hide the fact that there was a blush on your face.

“I wasn’t going to do anything about it unless I talked to you first Birdy—”

“I know.”

“And neither was he—”

“I know.”

“And honestly Robin, I really do like him, and I was pretty sure he liked me back. I mean we spent an entire night out here talking and talking—I’ve never talked to anyone this much in my entire life. And he thinks I’m funny and actually answers my texts and I—I just….”

“I know.”

You looked over at her. Your mind swimming with thoughts of Steve and Robin. It was bringing you to the verge of tears since no matter how big a crush on someone was, you would never let it come between you and Robin’s friendship.

Robin took your hand in hers and shook her head. “It’s okay. I promise.”

“Really?”

“Yeah–I mean. I had to think about it and at first, I was really mad, like pissed, because I thought you two had been seeing each other behind my back—which obviously I know you weren’t—and then I realized how fucking smitten you’ve been since he was here. I mean your attention was basically in Indiana.” The two giggled a little bit, a tear breaking free from your eye as Robin continued. “But you weren’t. You were still my best friend and you didn’t even do anything because you cared about me? And I’m not exactly thrilled that Dingus has won your heart over me, but I also wouldn’t not recommend him, if that makes any sense.”

You nodded. “Birdy I–”

She squeezed your hand. “Really. It’s okay. I’m honestly just mad about the fact that he’s answering your texts. He’s the fucking worst at texting everyone else so it must mean he really likes you. I’m extremely jealous…”

You laughed again, just enjoying Robin’s goodness.

“Besides, I feel like it gives me the upper hand for a question I’ve been wanting to ask. Wanna go to Cowland with me in a few weeks? The kids have been dying to meet you and they’re graduating from high school and I was going to go back anyways but since I know you probably want to see Steve again–”

“Robin. I’ve been bugging you to take me to Cowland for literal years. I’d be so down to go, not just because Harrington is there.”

The two of you shared a hug, arms wrapped lovingly around the other, squeezing almost all the air out of each other’s lungs.

_____________________________________________________________________

Finally, the semester had ended, and it was time for Robin to go home and visit her kids. You and Robin had both walked across the stage, receiving your diplomas in your respective fields, both of you with Magna Cum Laude cords around your necks, plus a few others. Steve couldn’t make it up to the city that weekend, which was a little upsetting to Robin at first, but all was understood.

The two of you had signed a lease for another two years, deciding that you both wanted to stay in New York City, and you both wanted to live with each other. This was really exciting for both of you, but was causing a serious amount of guilt for your best friend.

"Robin, it's not bad news. I know I'm biased, but it's incredible news that you have a job, and you have a place to live. and Yes—-don't cut me off—Yes, it's sad because it's officially going to be your permanent home, but that's, like, that's what growing up is."

"When the fuck did you get so...so....wise?"

You shrugged and looked over at her with a smile.

Since Robin didn't have a license, the two of you patiently waited at the airport for Steve to arrive. He had no idea you were suddenly in the great state of Indiana. You had never been before, and Robin had told you not to get your hopes up—but part of you was excited to see where your best friend grew up, where she was before this chapter of your lives.

You hadn't told Steve that you were in state, at the request of Robin, since she had some sort of plan in her mind. You knew that the first step was gauging Steve's reaction to seeing you at the airport with her, which made no sense to you, but you kept your mouth shut since this was her home turf.

A maroon BMW pulled up in front of the two of you, and you could say you were surprised by Steve's car of choice, but you would be lying. It's not that he read as a rich person, but Robin had one time told you his parents were loaded and you had laughed her off. Seeing how nice this car was, you wish you could take it back.

Steve pulled up to the two of you and rolled the window down. "Do you actually need help with the luggage or can you—" The second he saw you, he lost track of his sentence. Eyes roaming over your face, your body. Why did it feel good to be looked at like that?

"You're here."

You gave him a nervous smile. "That is true, yes."

The corner of Steve's mouth tugged up into a smile, and the two of you continued to look at one another, enjoying the fact that you were finally in each other's company again for the first time in over a month.

Robin snapped a finger in front of your face. "Good grief you two, let's get moving. I'm not standing out here in the sun all day because we stunned Steve into silence with your presence—-and to be fair, if you surprised me, I would be shocked into silence too by how excited I would be— pop the trunk Steven— to see you, but this is not the time. I want to get on the road as quickly as possible."

Steve snapped out of the trance between you both and popped the trunk of the car. He quickly got out of the car and moved around it to grab the luggage from you, and Robin, to put into the trunk.

"You suck ass, Harrington. You'll get out of the car for her, but was gonna make me put my bags in the back myself."

Steve rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, almost like an exasperated mother. "Robs, seriously. You know I would have gotten out to help you."

"I'm sure you would have Steve. I'm sure."

"You're not even in Hawkins and you're being a pain in my ass."

The two of them continued to squabble, making their way into the front of the car while you slid into the back. It was the sort of friendly banter that you could get used to.

And you did because, after about ten minutes into the drive, you had completely zoned out and watched as the roads turned into fields. You had never seen such flat land before, it was... bizarre. The world felt like it was supposed to have things reaching towards the sky—trees, skyscrapers, mountains—but not here. It was tall grass and nothingness. But it wasn't a bad feeling, just different—something almost serene about the vastness of it all.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to be grounded, but you couldn't speak to that since you had literally run away to the city to live in the sky and aim for the stars.

Your introspection about the human condition of reaching for the stars was interrupted by Robin.

"Right Y/n?"

"Mhm."

"Were you even listening?" Steve huffed.

"To be so honest, I have no fucking idea what you said birdy. Not one clue."

Robin groaned and turned around in her seat to look at you. "How long have you been tuned out; I don't know how much of this I can restate."

"Basically since we left the city."

Robin groaned again: way louder, and with a lot more dramatics. "I'm not explaining this again. You agreed with me regardless, so it's the truth."

Steve looked at you through the rearview mirror and smiled at you. It was one of those smiles that could make a girl trip over her own feet, and it was directed at you, making your insides melt. Steve had clearly been out in the sun since he was a little tanner than you last remember, and he had a small swatch of freckles across his nose and cheeks. It was adorable.

"Oh! Oh! We're almost there!" Robin exclaimed, and you broke your eyes away from Steve's to look at the old sign she was pointing to.

Hawkins - 5 Miles

"Five minutes til you enter a literal hellscape."

Robin swatted Steve's arm and smiled back at you. "It's not that bad I swear. Like sure, it's a bit of a Cowland, that much is true, but—-"

"You don't have to justify Cowland to me Birdy. The only thing you have to justify is the fact that we have been on the road for almost an hour and I have yet to see a single cow. Now that's just ridiculous."

Robin smiled at you and turned back around, facing the front again. She reached over and snatched Steve's phone (something you realized was a habit with everyone) and opened his Spotify, scrolling until she found the right song. She cranked the volume up and rolled the windows down, screaming along the words to Everybody Wants to Rule the World. How fitting.

You rolled your window down and enjoyed the feeling of the wind on your face. While you had never been to Indiana before, or most of the middle of the country, something you definitely loved was how fresh the air was. No buildings or mass amounts of cars were polluting the air—just the grass and trees.

Steve looked in the rearview mirror at you again, and you looked up, feeling his gaze on you. You could see the glimmer in his eyes as he looked at you. The pure joy that you were here. And you knew it was going to be a good two weeks here in Hawkins.

That was until it rained for three days straight, and you and Robin were basically stuck inside her room with nowhere to go. Robin's parents were kind enough to lend you their cars when they got home from work since Robin didn't drive and you didn't have a car, but that meant that if either of you wanted to go anywhere during the day, you had to bike or walk and neither of which, in the rain, was really ideal. You could always wait for Steve to get off of work, but by then you'd have Robin's parent's car so you were stuck.

But on the fourth day, you woke up to the smell of petrichor and a shining sun peering through the curtains. This was perfect because of you and Robin's strict itinerary.

Friday Day: Exploring the town/Lovers Lake

Friday Evening: Graduation

Friday Night: Grad Party

When Robin told you that you were spending your day at Lover's Lake, you thought she was actually going to murder you since there were no real places named that, but when the two of you were picked up by Steve to head to the lake, you found out it was, in fact, a real place.

It was actually kind of pretty, considering it was surrounded by woods. You were calmed by the sense of height within the area from the trees, but the actual visage of the lake was beautiful, and the sun reflecting off of that made it feel a bit more magical.

You were decked out in that same hoodie from the other day, as well as your favorite pair of shorts, both of which were covering up your favorite bathing suit. Swimming was enjoyable, but you weren't sure if today was a swimming type of day or a lounging in the sun type of day.

Either way, it was a 'try-not-to-stare-at-Steve-Harrington' day.

Your chauffeur started to help two other guys around his age, set up a picnic blanket, secure an umbrella into the sand, and set up the speaker for the music.

Nancy, the girl you had yet to be properly introduced to, got out of the car she drove here in with one of the boys, and walked over to you, a bright smile on her face.

"Hi! I'm Nancy, it's so nice to finally meet you. Robin hasn't shut up about you since you first met at college."

Your face lit up and you tried to cover up the smirk on your face. "Since we first met? Damn Birdy, I had no idea..."

"Thanks, Nance, now she's not going to shut up about it for fucking weeks," Robin mumbled, slinking off to go grab more things from Steve's car.

"It's really nice to meet you, Nancy. I've heard a lot about you too." You smiled and shook her hand—it felt a little serious for a meeting, but you got the sense that was just how Nancy was.

"Did Robin add your songs to the playlist? It gets really varied at times, but it's the only way we figured out to let each person be happy with the music if we all put fifteen songs on there, and then hit shuffle."

You shook your head, really confused about what this girl was saying to you. Nancy handed you her phone and scrolled through the playlist, showing you everyone's music picks, and explaining it in further detail. When you finally understood, you paused. "So can I add anything? No questions asked?"

Nancy nodded, smirking at the slight twinkle in your eyes. You added yourself to the playlist and handed her back her phone. "I'll add them before we start the playlist so that way they're in there fair and square."

Nancy nodded and then looked over at the boys. "So! You've met Robin, and obviously Steve, has Robin introduced you to anyone else yet?"

You shook your head 'No' and Nancy took your hand and dragged you off into the sand towards the gaggle of boys all staring at the umbrella since it was not as sturdy as they thought it would be.

After a single gust of wind, it had knocked right over.

"Nance there's no need to man-handle y/n—-"

Nancy rolled her eyes and stopped short of the group. "Go get some rocks Steve, and pile it around the base, I'm pretty sure we went over this last summer..."

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure it ended up not working in the long run there Wheeler." The long-haired guy crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow.

"Do they always give you this much lip even when they're wrong?" You half-whispered to Nancy, causing the two of you to try and cover your laughs.

"Y/n! You're supposed to be on my side here." Steve threw his hands up in the air before they landed on his hips.

"You look like a mom." You blurted out, causing yourself and the rest of the young adults to laugh together. Except for Steve, who was fake fuming, but really just at a loss. He really didn't think he looked like a mother but if a girl he had hung out with for no more than three days thinks so, then he might as well be fucked.

"Where did Robin find you?"

You looked across the group to the guy with longer hair, a tight tee with some sort of skull on it, and black bathing suit shorts. He was attractive, that was sure enough, but he definitely wasn't the pretty boy Harrington wanted to take a bite out of. Your voice dripped with sarcasm. "Take a wild guess."

"Touché. So. More importantly, what are you adding to the playlist."

You shrugged. "You'll find out. I'm guessing you're Eddie."

"In the flesh." He did one of those bows that was reminiscent of a movie from your childhood—it was really fucking nerdy.

"And so you must be Jonathan." Your tone shifted, slightly nicer, less of a bite to it. It stumped Steve, watching you clearly figure out and adapt yourself to the person you were talking to, but never being one to actually hurt the other person, just tease lightly.

Jonathan nodded, his arm was already around Nancy's shoulder, and he gave you a small 'Hey".

Robin shouted over at the group for help with all three of the coolers, and you watched Jonathan and Nancy go over to help her with them. You helped Eddie and Steve set the umbrella again (this time properly), and moved on to setting up your towel and bag.

Steve placed his towel on the other side of yours and sat down on the ground next to you. Eddie had moved on to setting up his area around the picnic table, reorganizing coolers, and setting up the various snacks for the group throughout the day.

"So..."

You turned and looked over at Steve, who was looking right at you, a brightness in his eyes that the sun couldn't match. It looked right, like it was supposed to always be there.

"So..." You responded, smiling back at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

You sighed and leaned back on your hands, looking out over the water. "Robin thought that it would be a good...test of character, I think is how she put it. She, uh, got a hold of my phone a few weeks ago, and made the connection about why I had been so..."

Steve bit his lip. "So...?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not gonna tell you if you're going to be a jerk about it."

Steve held his hands up, "I swear I won't be."

"Fine." You huffed and looked down at your legs. "Why I was so...attached to my phone, and blushing all the time, and why I kept smiling when I would get a text....and yeah."

You saw as Steve's face flashed with a wave of emotions, all of which managed to stay just below the surface. One of these days you would have to just stare at his face all day so you could learn very little mannerism, every little quick about this man.

"You, uh, smile every time I text you?"

You pursed your lips but then nodded. "Yeah. I—uh, I do."

"Hm." Steve nodded and looked out over the lake.

"Yeah."

You looked over at Steve just as he looked at you, causing both of you to smile again. Just as Steve was about to say something, you heard Robin call across the beach.

"Babe!"

You huffed slightly, the smile on your face becoming a little fake before turning and looking over at your best friend. "Yeah, babe?"

"Add your fucking music so I can hit shuffle."

"Aye Aye Captain." You gave her a mock salute and pulled out your phone, turning back towards Steve.

"Am I seriously going to get judged for what I put on?"

"We actually have a no complaints rule, since a certain someone would always bitch when his music never came on."

Your face lit up with amusement and nodded, before looking down at the playlist and scrolling through the songs already on there to see what had been added already.

"You really like the seventies and eighties, huh Harrington."

He shrugged and smiled. "I think I could have easily been an eighties heartthrob."

You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm slightly. "Yeah okay, sure."

Steve feigned a gasp. "You don't think I could've been!"

This caused you to laugh but continued to sort through your music, choosing the fifteen songs you felt like you wanted to hear most today.

"I'm sure you could have Steve. I'm sure."

Steve clutched his heart and fell backward. "You're killin' me here princess!"

You hit his thigh, not hard, but just enough to get your point across. "Don't call me that, unless you're going to commit to finishing the job because you owe me...big time." Your eyebrows were raised expectantly, but your voice was low so only Steve could hear you.

Steve smirked, and his eyes went a little dark for a moment before the sun returned them to their caramel color. "Trust me, now that you're here..."

"Good." You smiled and laid back on your towel, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your face and thighs, and enjoying the company of the smirking man next to you.

And you both stayed like this for the next hour, only getting up when food was offered. Steve eventually left your side, deciding to go for a swim. You opted out but enjoyed the view.

“He’s something else…”

You turned and looked at Robin sitting next to you, nodding in agreement.

“He really likes you.”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” Teasing her.

Robin shook her head and smiled. “I don’t have to. I mean, I've known him for years, but he’s never been like this about any girl, not even Nance.”

“Steve and Nancy dated?”

“They were the couple in high school. Did not end well, but the two of them are still good friends, surprisingly.”

You mouthed a soft ‘oh’.

“But…I’m being dead serious Y/n, he’s never been so…chill, peaceful…I don't know—”

“Sure.” Nancy chimed in and sat down on the opposite side of you.

“What?”

“He’s just so…sure about you. Like yeah, he can be a cocky asswipe, but he’s always freaking out about whether or not something is right, or going the way he thinks it’s supposed to.”

Robin nodded along while you tried to breathe evenly again. Not that you didn’t get those feelings from Steve, you absolutely did, but hearing about it from both Nancy and Robin at the same time was a bit overwhelming.

“He just, He’s so calm.”

“We’re not even dating.” You sighed, crossing your arms and looking out at the man in the water. He caught you looking at him, and winked at you, sending you a smile along with it. You waved slightly at him, returning the smile.

“He hasn’t asked you yet?”

“Nancy, it’s the twenty-first century, girls can ask guys out too.”

You rolled your eyes at Robin and shook your head. “No, not yet. We’ve only actually spent about fifteen hours in each other’s presence, with one of those being the hour drive down from Indianapolis…”

“Holy shit, and he’s that….wow.” Nancy leaned back on her hands, looking out over the water.

Plus we didn’t want to start dating behind Robin’s backs and have her hate us forever and ever. But you kept that thought to yourself.

The man in question decided that he had enough of the staring from the group of girls sitting on the beach, and waded his way over to you three, before walking out of the lake. “Can I help you three?”

Steve was literally dripping hotness off of his body. The sun backlit him, creating this holy look about him, and the water droplets slowly made their way down his chest and abs and down towards—You snapped your eyes back up to his face, where he was watching every single movement of your eyes, smirking slightly. It was fairly pornographic and would have you dragging Steve over to the car and fucking him senseless, but you’d settle for eye-fucking him instead since Robin was directly next to you, and so was Nancy.

“Just questioning Robin’s girl here.”

Steve’s eyes stayed trained on you and he raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, then why were all of you staring out at me huh?”

“Well, Harrington if you must know...”

“–I must Robin.”

“I’m just learning things. That’s all.” You tilted your head slightly, almost teasing him slightly. Your gaze was already enough to make anyone blush, but Steve Harrington wasn’t anybody. However, he immediately lost the shine of confidence at the thought of you, Robin, and Nancy talking about him.

“Learning what…exactly?”

You, alongside the other two girls, just shrugged, causing Steve to eye all three of you up and down, and head over to where Eddie was cooking up some lunch for you.

Sighing, you fully laid all the way down again and closed your eyes. “I think I’m just going to lie in the sun for a while and internalize every little thing the two of you just said to me.”

You didn’t hear as the two girls got up and left you alone. You also didn’t hear as someone else took his place next to you. You just drifted off into a light sleep, enjoying the warmth the sun was providing you so that you could just breathe for a moment and figure out everything that was going on inside your head.

First off, you liked Steve. And Steve liked you back. This was obvious before the girls told you, but the confirmation was a plus.

Second, Steve hadn’t mentioned ever going on another date, ever. You hadn’t even gone on a first one if you remembered correctly.

Third, You were unsure if Steve Harrington wanted to actually date you, or even kiss you. Sure, you rode his face like you were in one of those bull games in the rodeo bar, and he clearly seemed to enjoy it. But the only time he actually mentioned getting physical with you was either while it was happening, or if you brought it up first. Was he actually interested in you, or just being a gentleman?

This shit was fucking hard, that’s for sure.

“Hey.”

You hummed, letting Steve know you heard him.

“They’re going on a walk through the woods, wanna join?”

You shook your head, not wanting to get up from your spot on the towel.

Steve was silent for the next few moments. You assumed that he was staying on the beach with you since the others grabbed a couple things and started walking off into the woods.

“You’re not going?”

“Nope.”

You opened one eye and looked over at the boy next to you. He was looking right at you–a small smile flashed across his face. He was nervous. “I-I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah…Steve, it is.”

“Good.” He hummed and smiled at you.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Hawkins decided on having a Friday Night Graduation, and while at first, you were hesitant, you realized you’d rather have a graduation at sunset than have to wake up at the crack of dawn to watch kids you didn’t know walk across a stage.

You had gotten slightly dressed up, wearing a summery dress that didn’t leave you overheating, but was one step above casual. Sitting in between Steve and Robin was definitely something to behold considering they wouldn’t stop whispering to you, pointing out their kids.

The Salutatorian was one of theirs—a Will Byers, Jonathan’s brother, as you found out. His speech was beautiful and even made you tear up a bit, which meant nothing since the group you were sitting with was all crying alongside you.

Eventually, the graduates walked, and you watched your friends stand up and down, screaming and cheering for their kids each time one of them walked across the stage. You had learned all of them using a Quizlet, trying to make sure you didn’t mess up any names. So far, you had learned that Dustin Henderson was Steve’s favorite, with Max Mayfield being a close second. (from what you had heard, Max could easily be your favorite). Max was dating Lucas Sinclair, who was on the basketball team, which you found out Steve had been coaching for the past few years. Then, there was Will Byers, Jonathan’s brother, and Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s brother. Mike was dating Elle Hopper, who was best friends with Max. But Elle’s Dad was getting married to Will’s Mom…

You repeated this little thing over and over in your head, trying to wrap your brain around what could have possibly connected all of these older teens to Robin since she and Steve didn’t even talk until high school, and Steve only dated Nancy in junior year and—Honestly, it was weird, considering you really couldn’t imagine twenty-three-year-olds hanging out with eighteen-year-olds, but you lost all your doubt when you saw how connected this group was—whatever had happened between them, bonded them for life.

Eventually, the caps got tossed, the principal said a few words, and they were all dismissed. The small group of you waited off to the side, knowing that they were going to all talk to their parents first. Steve stood next to you, and placed a hand on your waist, leaning down to whisper something in your ear. “Tired yet?”

You laughed softly and shook your head, keeping your head straight ahead because if you turned, you were going to kiss him right on his stupid lips.

“No, but I am ready to start drinking again.”

This caused Steve to laugh slightly and straighten up, but his hand stayed on the small of your back until a gaggle of kids in green and white grad robes came running at you all.

You took a step back watching as hugs and congratulations were thrown out at all of them. It was heartwarming, truly, to see such a family in action. You swore you saw, out of the corner of your eye, Steve and Dustin having a lightsaber battle at one point.

Robin took your hand and dragged you over to the curly-headed one. “Y/n, this is Dustin, Dustin, Y/n. The Roommate.”

All hell broke loose when Robin announced your title. The children’s heads all snapped towards you and they started to crowd you, which wouldn’t have been as intimidating if you had met them all before, or if they were shorter than you, which a bunch of them were not.

“You’re her Roommate?” “We’ve heard so much about you.” “Oh my god, we finally got to meet you?” “You’re a lot prettier in person.” “Where did you get that dress, it’s stunning.” “You came to watch us walk across a stage? That’s definitely a choice…” “I wouldn’t go to Indiana if I lived in a cool place like the city ” “It’s literally so nice to finally meet you.” “You’re like really pretty.” “How did you meet Robin?”

“Alright Alright! Let the woman breathe my god.” Steve yelled out to the group, as he took notice of your wide eyes. It’s not that you were nervous about meeting them, it’s just that the wave of questions was a tad bit overwhelming and unexpected.

“Alright.” Steve sighed and looked at you. “Ready?”

You furrowed your brows. “For?”

“Well.” Steve started to point to each child as if he was giving you a speedrun introduction. “That’s Dustin, That’s Max and Lucas. Will, Mike, And that’s Elle. Am I missing anyone?”

The group managed to give Steve a full unison moment of attitude.

“You still look like such a mom Harrington.” You laughed a bit when he put his hands back on his hips.

“God I knew I’d like you,” Max spoke up, causing you to smile at her.

“It’s really nice to meet all of you!”

They all responded back, at the same time, and then scattered. Whatever initial excitement was there had finally dispersed, meaning you weren’t the center of attention, and you could breathe again. Well, except for one kid, that came up to you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Robin doesn’t shut up about you when she’s home.”

“Good things I hope?”

Dustin nodded, and suspiciously eyed how close you and Steve were standing. “All good things. But I’m surprised at the fact that you came to Indiana.”

You shrugged. “Robin asked, so I came. Pretty easy decision. Best friends and all that.”

“So, are you going to be at Steve’s later?”

“What’s with the interrogation Henderson.” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“I’m just asking her questions! She’s new! I can’t just..let her into the group—”

Steve scoffed, “As if you are the final decision maker in that?”

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

“Sorry Dipshit. The older half really like her, so she’s in.”

“The rest of us have to vet her and you know it. Sure, Robin wouldn’t be friends with her if she sucked, but the rest of us don’t know her—”

Dustin eyed you up and down again. “I’ll allow it, but I still need further proof.”

“Don’t be a dick, Dustin.” Max cut in. “She’s pretty, she clearly can put up with Steve’s shit since she’s willing to stand next to him this long. Why can’t there be another girl in the group?”

Dustin’s mouth floundered for a moment before he settled on his answer. “It’s not that I don’t like her. I just….”

“Dustin.” You smiled at him. “I’m not asking to infiltrate. I get it. This is clearly a tightly bonded family, and I’m not trying to just waltz in here and take a spot. But let me give you my qualifications and you can mull it over, yeah?”

This amused Steve. Somehow, you had managed to entertain Dustin, and still manage to deescalate whatever the kid was thinking about. Dustin agreed to your terms and waited to hear what you had to say.

“First off, unlike Robin, I have a license. I don’t own a car but I live in like the major city of major cities, so I don’t exactly need one. But I can drive. Second. I am not a current permanent addition to the group, at least presence-wise. I am like a fun aunt who will let you stay in the city with her when you want to get out of Hawkins, and I only show up at family functions to spice it up a bit. Third, I have traveled to several different countries in the past two years, which means I can and will bring you back goodies from other countries. Fourth, I know how to party correctly, which means I am at a good time, and I will provide references if you need them. Fifth, and finally. I am over twenty-one, which means, I can and will buy you things that you can’t buy yet. This includes weed from a major city where it is in fact better than the stuff you get here.”

Dustin was taking all of this in, slightly bewildered by the fact that you literally just listed out your qualifications.

“Oh. And a sixth one, thrown in for free, I can commit to a bit Henderson.” You winked at him before walking over to where Robin had been talking to Will about something.

You felt Steve’s eyes on you but didn’t turn around, instead basking in the glory of dropping your over qualifications to win Dustin Henderson’s approval. You integrated yourself into her conversation with Will, enjoying the setting sun in the background. Tonight was going to be a good one, especially since you had decided that tonight was the night you wanted to talk to Steve about whatever was going on between the two of you, especially after everything that happened this morning.

______________________________________________________________________________

The kids managed to convince Steve to let them throw a graduation party at his apartment. Now this usually wouldn’t be such a big deal, but considering that they all could drink and party now, the space almost felt a bit too small. Especially since they invited some of their other friends that you had not yet met. Which is how you ended up sitting on the arm of the couch, watching all of the kids interact with each other.

“Hey.”

You looked over and smiled once you realized who it was. “Hey.”

“Wanna, uh–go into the kitchen with me for a second?”

You nodded and got up, following him past the decently sized group of people, and into the kitchen. It was not a spacious kitchen by any means, but there was a noticeably smaller amount of people, so it felt a million times better. You could breathe.

Luckily for you, you had been drinking since before noon, and it was well on its way to being one am. The true sign of a lady is how well she day drinks. You were on the balance of buzzed and tipsy, toeing the line with perfect grace. This gave you the confidence to feel a bit better about the fact that you were someone who was extremely touchy, which Steve clearly didn’t mind. Your hand had made its way to his chest, and you were gently tracing shapes.

“What’s up, Steve.”

“I–uh.”

You watched as his eyes flitted up to where the rest of the group was in his living room. He was silent for a few moments, which gave you time to really look over his face, and enjoy just how gorgeous he was. The curve of his lips. The slightly blush he always carried on his cheeks. The hazelnut color of his eyes. All while you were patiently waiting for him to sort through the words in his head.

“I’m really glad you came to Hawkins.”

“Me too.” You smiled up at him, batting your eyelashes once or twice for a bit of flirtatious emphasis.

“Because I had a really really good time in the city with you.”

You nodded, prompting him to continue talking.

This caused Steve’s smile to grow, with what you were sure were tints of blush across his cheeks.

“And I—well, I don’t exactly know what to do beyond this because you live in the city and I live here. And Robin might actually kill me if I ask you out, or if she found out the other things we started to get up to.” Steve was talking as quietly as he could, not keen on Robin finding out the compromising positions you had been in when Steve was in New York. “I know she has probably already said something to you but…I don't know. How do you feel about it because–”

For the first time in over a month, you were able to actually kiss him, instead of just dreaming about his lips, his mint chapstick, the way his hands felt around your waist. You had placed your beverage down on the counter and cupped his cheeks with your hands, basically pulling his lips to yours.

That warmth from before came crawling up your spine and filled your body with light. Fuck, you wanted to feel this for as long as you possibly could. Enjoying Steve.

But eventually, your proverbial luck would run out, since Robin cleared her throat from the doorway. She wasn’t exactly staring at either of you, but you couldn’t see her face since you covered your mouth with one of your hands, and wrapped the other arm around your stomach, looking away from her, losing all contact with Steve. Steve had quickly pulled one of his hands away, the other one still on your waist. You weren’t sure if Robin could see that one since your body was blocking it. Steve’s thumb ran up and down your hip, trying to calm you down.

He could feel your heartbeat racing. How embarrassing was that?

Even the calming sensation of Steve’s thumb rubbing up and down on your hip simply could not bring your heart rate down to a nice even 120/80. You’re pretty sure your Apple watch just pinged you about an increased heart rate.

The only worse thing was that Robin had just walked in on you kissing her best friend.

Her two supposed best friends kissed each other.

“I–uh–I was going to ask you where Y/n went…but um, I can see you’re both a bit busy…” The sound of your name made you wince.

Robin’s voice was strained, and she was trying to keep whatever emotions she was feeling at bay. Technically she had said this was fine, but she had never had to witness it or deal with it, in person before.

“Robin–”

“No, guys, seriously stop.” Robin took a breath. You could tell this was a bit weird for her, but she managed a brave face for the moment. “We talked about it. I’m okay with it. It’s just…It’s going to take me a second to get used to actually seeing it. Honestly, I just—I really wasn’t expecting to find you guys making out in the kitchen

“Are you sure?” You finally turned your head and looked at her, more nervous about how she would react to this than anything else in your life.

Robin smiled at you and nodded. “Really, actually, I’m fine. I am. I just, I’m going to go, um…I’ll be out back with Eddie if you need me.” She quickly left the room, leaving you and Steve alone again, to let out the breath both of you were holding.

“I thought that was going to head in a way worse direction if I’m being so honest with you.” You muttered, squeezing Steve’s arm.

“You’re telling me. I almost fucking melted when she first came in.”

This caused you to let out a brief laugh.

Steve sighed and rubbed his thumb up and down on your hip again. “I think she needs time getting used to it. We all do.”

After another moment of staring at one another, the feeling of contentment made your heart swell, shoving some bravery forward and out your mouth.

“I like you a lot, Steve.”

He smiled. “M-Me too.”

“Oh, so you agree? You like you a lot? That’s just what a girl wants to hear, damn.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No no, I meant I Like you a lot, not that I like me a lot—actually—”

“Steve.” You cut him off, smiling at him. “I was teasing. You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Steve couldn’t fight the smile growing on his face harder if he tried. You watched it slowly reach across his eyes and he shook his head. “I mean it though–a lot. I don’t think that even covers it.”

You placed your hand on his arm and squeezed it. “Don’t flatter me too much or my ego will inflate like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters—”

“WHO JUST SAID GHOSTBUSTERS.”

Dustin popped into the kitchen, looking around for the culprit. His eyes landed on you two and his eyebrows raised. “Robin’s friend Steve? Really? That’s the girl you’ve been–”

“Dustin. Enough.” Steve tensed up, cutting off the younger kid.

“No no no.” You moved out of Steve’s arms and towards Dustin. “Please, Dustin. Tell me more, the girl Steve, what exactly.”

“Dustin I swear to god—”

You looked over your shoulder at Steve and winked at him, before placing a hand on Dustin’s arm in a very similar way to how you had just touched Steve’s arm. Now, you weren’t a manipulative person by any means. But men were easy to get information out of if you just knew how.

You felt Steve’s eyes burning into you, watching your every move.

“Dustin, do you have a girlfriend?”

He looked at you weirdly but nodded. “Yeah. What does Suzie have to do with this?”

“How do you feel about her?”

Dustin’s shoulders detensed, and he tilted his head slightly. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just tell me about her.”

Dustin, who basically never talked about Suzie anymore since he didn’t want to annoy the group, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. “Well! She’s the perfect woman. Smart, kind, snarky, bossy, gorgeous—hotter than anyone ever—sorry. But she means the world to me—.”

You nodded along, listening to everything he had to say about Suzie, even popping in with clarifying questions, or asking how they met.

“Wow, that’s a long time to be dating someone so young.”

Dustin nodded and shrugged. “When you know you know.”

Steve was just watching you, completely fascinated. There were things Dustin was telling you that he had never even heard before. But he knew you were up to something, he just couldn’t figure out what you were doing.

You nodded and cast a quick glance back to Steve, who met your eyes. “That’s true.”

Steve almost blushed at the way you looked at him when you said that, making your eyes soften for a moment. When you know you know.

“Why did you want to know about Suzie?”

“I saw you texting her earlier. I’m sorry she couldn’t be here for your graduation…”

Dustin shrugged. “She’s coming up next week for about a month so I’d rather have her for a whole month than just a weekend. Besides, we’re both going to the same college so…I’d rather focus on what we do have than not, you know.”

“You are very wise for a high school graduate Dustin.”

Dustin shrugged. “Well, I’ve been saying that for years but now I have the degree to back it up….Alright, I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’ve accepted your application into the group here.”

“Oh thank you, I was a bit worried there.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Please, you passed the second I heard the word Ghostbusters come outta your mouth.”

This made you smile. “Dustin, one last question, and then I’ll let you go back to your friends—”

“Actually, I’d much rather be in here since you seem a lot cooler than half of the people in there.”

“I appreciate that Dustin thank you. But, my question is. Does Steve look at his phone like that? The way you were describing Suzie…”

Dustin scoffed. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen him so glued to a screen before–”

“Dustin...”

You shushed Steve. “Let the man continue Harington, God.”

Dustin preened up a little bit at the sound of being called a man, making him continue. “He’s like…I’ve actually never seen him like this before. He’s always checking his phone but he’s smiling at it and laughing at things…oh…You’re good.”

You squeezed his arm before letting go. “Dustin, I need you to know that I am actually very interested in your relationship with this girl and I do hope I get to hear more about Suzie, I really do. I also appreciated the information you just gave me.”

“You’re the phone huh.”

“You’re a Genius Henderson.” Steve glared at him, definitely trying to conceal the embarrassment he was feeling.

“So Dustin, tell me more about the way he’s been acting.”

“Henderson if you don’t leave the kitchen right now–”

Dustin took a step away from you. “I like you, a lot, y/n. But I think I’ve done enough damage for Stevie over there, so I’ll leave you alone.”

You nodded and gave him a little wave as he took off back into the living room. You turned around on the spot, facing Harrington, who was all but embarrassed at Dustin exposing him.

“You smile at your phone when I text you huh?”

“Oh shut up, you knew that already.”

“It’s nice to get confirmation.” Your hands clasped behind your back, and Steve took the opportunity to walk over to you and place a hand under your chin.

Your breath? Left the fucking building, maybe even the whole state of Indiana.

“Confirmation that I liked you?”

He was lifting your chin up with just one knuckle, just enough that your head tilted up to look at him.

“I feel like what we did in the bathroom was confirmation enough.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours. “And if not, then kissing you a few minutes ago should’ve been.”

You hummed, eyes closing, expecting his lips over yours.

“You just like to tease me, huh.”

“Steve.” You whined softly, leaning forward a bit, trying to capture his lips in yours. But he just shifted back slightly, not letting your lips do anything more than ghost over yours.

“I like to tease too, ya know.” He muttered, his other hand sliding back onto your waist, pulling your body against his.

You hummed, waiting for him to make his move, giving up the little control you had moments before since the prize was a kiss.

But no kiss came. Steve Harrington dropped his hands from your waist and chin, and stepped back, grabbing his beer off of the counter and winking at you. “If it’s a game you want sweetheart, I can play it too.”

You groaned and watched as he backed out of the room, leaving you once again up against a counter and completely wound up.

A few hours later, you had found yourself rolling a joint for the older group, basically giving Eddie a masterclass in the art. He was extremely doubtful about the fact that your weed would be better than his, but when he took his first hit, Eddie Munson coughed.

The small group of you—Jonathan, Robin, Eddie, and Steve—all stared at him with wide eyes. You gently took the joint from his hand took a hit from it, and offered it to your right to Steve, who took a smaller hit than you. Since he had smoked with you before, he didn’t cough, much to Eddie’s dismay.

Jonathan gratefully took it next, muttering something about Cali Weed, which you didn’t fully catch. Eddie turned to you, eyes extremely red. “Jesus Christ Y/n. What the fuck is that?”

You exhaled slowly, impressing everyone, but Robin, with the amount of smoke in your lungs. “I say this with so much love in my heart Eddie—It’s good weed.”

Eddie went to scoff but started coughing again, causing you to smile a bit. You felt the first hit in your face, always. No matter how many times, your face was always the first. It felt slightly buzzy, like a current was pulsing through your cheeks, your chin, your forehead. You leaned against Steve, watching as the joint made its rounds.

“Nancy, not a big smoker?”

Jonathan shook his head, exhaling the smoke over his shoulder to not blow it all in your face. “Can hold her liquor better than any of us though.”

“I buy it.” You smiled, resting your head against Steve’s shoulder.

Robin stuck her tongue out at you from across the circle before taking the joint and taking her own hit.

“So Y/n.”

You hummed and darted your eyes towards Eddie.

“You told Henderson that you’ve been to many different countries, like where?”

“I don't think that would make sense even if I wasn’t slightly high and slightly intoxicated.” You laughed and shook your head. ”But, uh, I don’t know. I’ve been a lot of places. Do you want me to just start listing them until you find one you like? Like those little Rolodex things old ladies have?”

Eddie nodded, taking the joint from Robin and taking another hit, this time not coughing.

You sighed and yawned a little bit, taking the joint when it was offered to you. Instead of taking a puff, you passed it on.

“Alright so, uh, let's see. I’ve been to about twenty states, and that includes Alaska. I’ve been to Canada a bunch. I have been to the Caribbean, so a bunch of those bad boys. Where else…”

“Serbia.” Robin listed for you, causing you to nod against Steve’s shoulder.

“Serbia, Croatia, Montenegro, all three of which are gorgeous by the way. Which then takes me to Europe so uh those countries, plus obviously England, and Ireland, both Republic of and Northern. Then, let's see, France…”

“France was a good one for you.”

You nodded. “Paris was good for me in many ways.” You made suggestive eyebrows at Robin who then burst into laughter.

“Then tell us about it.”

For some reason, you were starting to feel as if Eddie wasn’t your biggest fan. Now normally, if a man didn’t like you, you couldn’t find even a singular fuck to give, but this was bugging you. Maybe because he was so close with Robin.

“Well.” your gaze hardened a bit as you looked at him. “I think I managed to spend a total of sixteen hours in the Louvre during my entire week in Paris. I spent another day seeing the rest of the Musees that I wanted to see, and then I did the rest of the touristy things the rest of the time.”

“What about the Nightlife?”

“What about it?”

“Tell us about it.”

“Eddie…” Steve warned, feeling you tense up as Eddie continued to poke and prod at you. His words weren’t sharp, they weren’t knives. But they felt like tiny little shoves across your chest.

“Steve, it’s fine.” You muttered.

“If you must know, France has good nightlife, but if you want to party, you go to Spain. If you want exclusive yet fun clubs, you go to Berlin. Anyone who’s traveled outside the continental US could tell you that.” Your jaw set, but the smile on your face was a bit devilish. “But Eddie, dear, what I get up to in foreign cities in terms of my sexuality is between me, my phone, Robin Buckley, and the whiteboard in our apartment.”

Steve gasped. “That’s what those tally marks are.”

Robin shook her head but then paused. “Well no, not...kinda I guess. But not exactly what you're thinking.”

“I slept on your couch. You dirty dirty women.” He grumbled, removing his hand from your thigh, except it was just to lean back a bit, not to move you away from him.

“We’re both extremely competitive when it comes down to the basics. Besides, Robin was the one who started it, she said that she used to tally how many swings and misses you would take at your old job.”

Steve hung his head and laughed, causing the rest of the group to laugh alongside him. “Did she tell you what that job even was?”

“Oh Scoops? Absolutely. We cut up that stupid fucking costume one year for her Halloween costume.”

“That was you!?!”

You nodded and took a sip out of the drink you had brought out. “I’m also a costume designer.” You hummed. “Multi-hyphenate.”

That joke was meant for Jonathan since it caused him to cough on the air in his lungs. “Resume building 101.”

You mock cheers’d to that and rested back against Steve’s side, his hand moving back to your thigh.

Eventually, it was just you, Robin, Eddie, and Steve left, sitting on the porch, enjoying the view of the stars. You had forgotten how stunning they could be since you had basically lived within the city for the past few years, not really going out to places where you could see the sky. It was just marvelous to you.

Robin and Eddie stood up to go, meaning you also had to go. But Robin just kissed your head and whispered in your ear before you could stand. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded, smiling at her and taking her hand in yours. “I love you, Robin Buckley. Marry me.”

This caused Robin to burst out in laughter, and she nodded at you. “It’s a date babe.” She said her goodbyes to Steve and left with Eddie who was your ride home.

The two of you sat together, with you listening as Steve told you about someone, the constellations that he knew, with you lying on his lap, while he pointed out the stars.

“And that one is Orion’s belt. It’s probably the easiest to spot since it’s literally just three stars in a row.” He whispered, not wanting to break the silence the two of you had created.

You hummed. “That’s the hunter right?”

Steve shrugged. “You probably know better than I do.”

You managed to sit up and face him, lips seconds away from him. “And what would make you say that?”

He shrugged again, no longer looking up at the stars in the sky, but rather at the stars in your eyes.

Your eyes flitted to his lips quickly, silently asking for permission, which he answered by placing them against yours. Your body exploded like the sun, radiating the peace you had felt all those months ago at the cafe, and then again in the kitchen. Neither of you moved, just sitting together like two lovers would, slowly kissing one another under the universe.

Steve took your bottom lip between his teeth and gently pulled away, enjoying the sound you let out as he did so. You tilted your head slightly, leaning forward to capture his lips again in yours, but he dodged your lips and kissed your neck instead. His lips found under your ear and kissed there. “Wanna head inside.” He muttered.

You hummed a positive response, unsure of how the two of you managed to make it inside and towards his bedroom. All you could focus on was the feeling on his lips, on yours, on your neck. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your hips, brushing up your thighs, tugging on your hair.

But you found yourself backed up against his bedroom door. His body pressed into yours, kissing your neck. “Fuck me, pretty girl.”

If that’s what he wanted you to do then who were you to deny him that much? Your head lulled to the side, giving him more access to your neck as you just moaned in response. Your legs were on the ground, but the only thing really keeping you up against the door was Steve’s knee, which had made its place between your thighs.

Steve’s lips quickly found that sweet spot right above your collarbone and he gently sucked on it, causing your hips to roll forwards and your eyes to roll backward. You inhaled and arched your back the more he sucked on it, nipping it to add some color to his mark.

Steve felt as your hand snaked its way around his waist, your fingers cool against his skin. You tugged on his shirt, making him pull away slightly and rip his shirt off of his body.

Both of your hands went to his chest, so you could run your fingers across it, feeling as much of him as you could.

“Steve?” You muttered as he continued to kiss across your neck.

He paused and looked up at you.

“If you don’t do something in the next minute I’m locking you out of your room and fucking myself.”

He chuckled, pupils dilating at the thought of you touching yourself. But he shook the thoughts away and pulled you in for a kiss. “As you wish, Pretty girl.”

You hummed at his words, removing your shirt when he tapped on your back and pulled away from you for a moment.

For some power beyond man, you wore a really cute bra today. It wasn’t lingerie, but it made Steve drool all the same, causing him to groan at the sight. He didn’t stop there though, slowly pulling off your shorts and underwear causing him to kneel down in front of you. You sucked in a breath.

The sight of Steve Harrington kneeling before you to eat you out was becoming your new favorite view.

He took one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, kissing up your thigh, slowly, looking up at you the whole time.

He was looking for any kind of hesitation but instead, all he received was a “Fuck, Steve, please.”

Steve smirked at you before licking up your thigh and gently nipping at it, causing your head to tilt against his bedroom door.

Steve took his time eating you out. He teased you relentlessly, eliciting every single sound from you he could possibly discover, muttering how much of a “pretty girl” you were into your “pretty little pussy”.

His lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked over so gently. Your hips shifted forward, back on the edge of an orgasm, waiting not-so-patiently for him to make you cum all over his face.

“Come on baby girl let me taste you. I bet you taste so fucking sweet.”

“P-Please Steve.” Your eyes were squeezed shut, one had in his hair, the other shoved against the door frame for support.

The heat in your gut was winding up tighter and tighter, causing you to roll your hips, riding his face. Every time your body shuddered, you’d hit Steve’s nose just right against your clit, making you gasp a little bit.

You moaned his name out, finding yourself closer and closer to the edge as he became more and more relentless fucking you with his tongue and with his words.

He curled his tongue in the right spot, causing your body to snap.

Not a single sound left your mouth as you cum on his tongue, back arching against the door, leg shaking as Steve held you up as you came. You felt his tongue working you through, and you could have sworn he moaned at the first taste of you.

Eventually, Steve slowly pulled away, rubbing circles on your hips with his thumbs. Your high was slowly coming back down and you muttered out a ‘holy fuck’, which caused Steve to nip at your thigh. Still sensitive, you let out a moan in response before yanking on Steve’s hair gently.

He chuckled, the breath from his lips causing you to squirm a bit. What a sight you must have been: almost completely naked, covered in hickeys and marks, with a man wrapped in between your legs, up against his bedroom door.

Steve slowly let your leg down, before kissing his way back up, enjoying every little sharp intake of breath, and every little moan that got caught in your throat. He made his way to your lips and it was dirty how much you enjoyed kissing him while he still had you all over his lips. It was obscene.

“How ya doing pretty girl.” He muttered, arms wrapped around your waist, lips on yours.

You were blissed out. Every time you thought about what you just experienced, your hips twitched a little bit, and all you could do was use your hands to shove Steve’s lips further into yours. His tongue ran across your bottom lip, and you happily obliged, opening up a bit more so he could taste all of you.

When he pulled away so you could breathe, he went back to kissing your neck. “I’ve been dreaming about your taste for fucking months.”

You swore you could orgasm a second time at that sentence alone.

Steve’s fingers melted into your skin, and you were sure that there were permanent sun spots where his hand was, forever indicating where his hands should always be.

You gently pulled on his hair once again, gaining his attention. “Steve.” You muttered, rubbing your thumb up and down on his neck.

He nodded and reached over, opening the door to his room.

The two of you slowly made your way to his bed, lips on lips, hands grabbing for skin, wanting more contact than what you had.

By the time you were on the bed, your skin had become a canvas and Steve was the artist, his lips leaving little marks scattered across your skin like constellations.

Steve pulled away for a moment, sitting back on his heels, causing you to sit up. You took over his task, slowly unbuckling his belt, looking up at him the entire time. Steve licked his lips and bit his bottom one at the sight of you.

You slowly pulled it out of the belt loops and then threw it somewhere in the room. Your fingers made their way up his thighs before they popped open the button of his jeans. You could see the strain on the jeans from how hard Steve was, pushing against the fabric.

He groaned as you unzipped them before leaning back on your hands, watching him take them off. You could have sworn you started to drool when you saw his cock.

His hands almost started you as he placed one beside your head, leaning down to kiss you.

You didn’t realize that he had been wearing his silver chain this entire time, until it brushed against your collarbone when his lips connected with yours. You felt as Steve slid his knee between your legs, and his other hand cupped your cheek.

“Steve I–” You muttered against his lips, but he cut you off by kissing you again.

After a moment, he pulled away, hovering above you. “What gorgeous.”

“Please.” You whispered, feeling antsy at the fact that you hadn’t felt him yet, that he was barely touching you.

He smiled slightly. “You have somewhere to be?” He joked, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You rolled your eyes. “What if I did.”

He kissed your collarbone. “By all means.”

The top of your chest, above the bra. “Leave then.”

You let out a shuddered breath at the feeling of his mouth above your chest and closed your eyes.

“No?” He licked up your neck and nipped at the bottom of your ear. “Come on baby girl, nothing more to say.”

“F-fuck.”

He chuckled and slid his hand down to the front of your bra, undoing it with one hand. “Opens from the front…someone was prepping.”

Your cheeks turned red and you shook your head. “N-no.”

He shrugged and took it off of you. “Doesn’t seem that way, sweetheart.”

Your nipples hardened at the cool air surrounding you both, and Steve put his hand on your waist, slowly sliding up your side until he could cup your tit in his hand, giving it a squeeze.

You moaned at the contact but kept your eyes on the scene in front of you. It would be criminal to not watch Steve take his sweet time with you.

He shifted again, making it so he was able to rest on top of you, and trace designs across your chest with his tongue. It flicked against one of your nipples which made your body jump up against his.

“Sensitive?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You muttered, one of your hands making its way to his shoulder and squeezing it tightly.

He rubbed his thumb over the other nipple, flicking it. His tongue went to work, finding out everything that made you feel good, that made you moan. Once Steve had worked you up, he switched his attention to your other tit, his lips kissing across the valley of your chest.

He was teasing you, watching every single movement of your body and while you wanted to shove him back down to clean up his mess, you couldn’t help it. You had never seen a sight so intoxicatingly hot. His chain dragged around with him, adding to the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

Somehow from barely moving, you felt like your body was on fire, it was too hot. You felt too good.

“Gonna take my sweet time with you, pretty girl.” He muttered, kissing back up your collarbone. “Gonna hear every single one of those pretty sounds come out of that pretty mouth of yours. Yeah?”

All you could do was nod and close your eyes, trying not to orgasm right then and there.

He tsked and squeezed your waist. “I wanna hear it, baby. I want to hear you.”

“Yes–yes–please god yes.” Your answer poured out of you before you could even think about it. The only thing in your head was Steve Harrington. Steve’s hips, his ass, his arms, his chest, his lips, his hair, his chain, his stupid fucking smirk.

You felt him pull away for a moment, and you opened your eyes. He had gotten up and grabbed a condom, ripping it open with his teeth and tossing the wrapper somewhere. You watched as he slid it over his cock, which was already glistening with pre-cum, causing him to smirk.

“I make you excited or something, Harrington?”

He laughed as he made his way back over to the bed. “Something like that yeah.”

You leaned up slightly and captured his lips on your own, enjoying the moment of just his lips on yours.

He hummed and you felt him slowly guide himself to your entrance.

You’d never spent the whole night fucking someone, until now, and even then, you weren’t sure what you were doing was just fucking one another. Sure it started out like that, but it evolved into something more the second Steve Harrington took your hand in his and pushed into you for the first time, whispering everything he adored about you into your ear.

A sigh that could be categorized as relief left your mouth when he bottomed out, just letting the both of you get used to the feeling of one another.

He kissed your jaw before slowly pulling his hips back out.

You moaned into his ear as he started moving, your bodies moving in sync just like those cheesy books you had read told you.

Feeling good has never come so easy to you. The way Steve Harrington was kissing you, so tender, with sure care made you want to freeze the world so you could stay here forever, with him. Your moans match up to each thrust, each inhale from when he kisses the sensitive skin right above your collarbone.

The stars outside shined brighter for you, that’s what you would swear when telling your friends, that the universe quieted and the stars multiplied so you could see all of them as Steve made love to you, whispered how much he adored you, how he couldn’t wait to kiss you the moment he saw you at the airport. How he wanted to see what you tasted like the moment he first met you.

It was overwhelming, only breathing in Steve, bodies picking up the pace as you simultaneously leaned over the line, ready to snap.

You begged him, you needed him. His name falling from your lips with every single movement he made.

His hand slid down your body and slowly started toying with your clit. “Come on pretty, let me feel you. I want to feel you. You’ve been so good for me, so fucking hot baby, let me feel you.”

It snapped. The coil in your stomach snapped and you came, walls clenching down on him. Your mind went blank and your vision was filled with millions of stars that had floated in through the window and hung in Steve Harrington’s eyes.

The feeling of you caused him to quickly follow you, hips thrusting into you, making you both ride one another’s orgasms. The sound of his breath, his moans, caused another wave to crash down on you. Your back arched, jaw quivering as your chest lost all of its air. The weight of his body kept you grounded but your mind was in the clouds.

That calmness you had experienced before settled into your chest. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. There was no insatiable hunger, no need to go again (at the moment), nothing of the sort. Just a need to become inseparable, to become one whole again from two halves.

And you could tell Steve felt the same from the way he kissed your cheek and lifted his head to look at you. You both felt it. The feeling as if this was right as if you were supposed to be here with one another, as if it was written in the stars, or read through some tea leaves—you were supposed to be falling in love with Steve Harrington.

You leaned up ever so slightly, saying everything you possibly could with your lips against his, with no words being spoken. There was no need for them anyway because you just knew Steve felt the same.

______________________________________________________________________________

You spent the next week, doing your best to split your time between your best friend, and your something new. Robin was actually doing quite well adjusting to the two of you since it felt like this had always been normal.

The night before you and Robin were set to leave, Steve had taken you out by Lover’s Lake again, remembering how much you loved hearing about the stars. It was breathtaking. Truly the sky felt so vast and so big and you were standing underneath all of that with someone you truly cared about.

The night didn’t end there.

The two of you melted into one another in the backseat of Steve’s car. Skin on Skin. Stars collide in your eyes. Hands digging deeper than skin into souls.

Yet after all of that, you were still too terrified to ask the question that had been on your mind since last Friday.

What Now?

“I had been, uh, thinking.”

Steve’s thumb was rubbing against your hip, bringing your focus back to him.

“And, uh, we have to…”

You nodded.

“Steve I–”

Steve shook his head. “Let me get through this, yeah?” He whispered, almost like he was scared to even hear his own voice.

“I-I have been searching for a way out of Hawkins for a while now. I love my friends, but now that the kids have graduated and-and are moving away, I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

You brushed your hand against his cheek as a sign of comfort, not saying anything.

“I don’t want you to think I’m latching onto you because you could get me out of here. I need you to know that’s not—I have never felt more sure about anything—anyone in my entire life than I feel about you. It sounds fucking crazy to say out loud, but I swear your touch literally brings my heart rate down. Hearing your laugh is like a fucking drug and, and, I want to spend as long as I can staring into your eyes, memorizing every single centimeter of your body, watching you as you stare up at the stars. I w-want that. I want it so badly. It sounds delusional since we’ve barely spent a full week's worth of time together. But speaking it out into the universe has fucked me over so much in the past. Anytime I’d utter any true want out loud, it’d, uh, it’d disappear. But I can’t—I think I’d go batshit if I couldn’t kiss you every day. What–what I’m trying to say is that—”

You gently placed your lips on his lips, not having the words in the English language to describe the field of flowers blooming in your chest under the sunshine that was Steve Harrington.

Steve smiled and pulled away after a moment.

“You were gonna launch into the sky with the way your mouth was running.”

Steve nervously laughed and nodded, closing his eyes.

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m into you because you could be a way out of Hawkins. I need you to know that I’m seriously falling for you and I-I couldn’t be more in awe of you every time I look at you.”

Your eyes started to water and you shoved his chest. “Fuck Steve. That was…That was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.” You muttered, burying your face in his neck, to hide the fact that this man just made you so emotional using minimal words.

The two of you sat there, enjoying the company of one another, whispering sweet everythings in each other’s ears. It was everything to you. His hands on your body, his eyes locked onto yours. The thought of having to leave the next morning had you terrified since neither of you really had any idea how you were going to make this work, but you’d be fucking damned if you weren’t going to try. Steve was worth it to you. He was worth everything.

And suddenly, because of Steve Harrington, you started to believe that you were worth everything too.

832 notes · View notes