#fic ahoy

[sepetajmikolikomehoces]

Have I written something for camboy today?

Yes.

Have I also written something for another AU that has made what feels like half the discord side eye me because they no longer believe me when I say "It will be fine"?

Yes.

[munsster]

fixer upper

A/N: IM ACTUALLY SO EMBARASSED TO ADMIT THIS IS BASED ON ‘FIXER UPPER’ FROM FROZEN 💀💀💀 does that mean it counts as a song fic…….. (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: The kids aren’t saying you can change him, per se. They’re only saying that love’s a force that’s powerful and strange. 2.8k words

Warnings: fluff, babygirl steve, cursing, mentions of toxic (?) relationship, hopeless pining, pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting

Steve can barely see through his rose-tinted daydream, but he's sure he recognizes your smile as soon as you enter the food court. And you lead a trail of whiny teenagers right to his register. This is the fourth time this week you've heard about Steve's lusturous hair and dazzling eyes. You have to hand it to them, they're not bad salesmen, just a tad young to elicit ethos. What the hell do they know about love anyway.

That's what happens when you're licensed and free on a Friday afternoon: babysitting duty. Now, in the event that Steve had been the one saddled with the party on his day off, he would've argued that they're not really babies and they should be self-sufficient. Knowing Dustin, however, this argument proves to be false almost every time.

But it wasn't Steve, it was you. Steve doesn't think he's heard you complain about one thing in your life.

Not even your deadbeat boyfriend called Brad. Who, as Dustin and Max and Robin love to remind him, is utterly replaceable and on thin ice every other week. Steve knows better than to get his hopes up after three months of having them crushed, though. He's learned to live with the strong sense of yearning he feels whenever you're within thirty feet of him.

Take now, for example: you're coralling half a dozen brats into a somewhat single-file line without even having to raise your voice. He should think it's impressive, but he's too distracted by your lip gloss and your voice and the way you did your hair today.

"I hope you give discounts to distressed young women," you tease, brows knitting when you look up at him. This is the part where he's supposed to respond with something charming. Sexy and charismatic, maybe.

"Oh, uh," he chuckles, "No, I mean, yeah. Sure"—Oh, but you smile at him and all that pent up charisma flies out the neon-framed sliding doors. They chatter out their orders at lightning speed, and he can barely catch half of what they're saying when you look at him like that. You finally make it to the register and pay half price. And your cone is always on the house, of course.

"Isn't he such a gentleman?" Max says unenthusiastically. Lucas elbows her side before retreating with Dustin.

"He's also a great driver!" Will chirps, shuffling away to one of the booths with Mike and El who giggle the whole way there. You turn back to Steve who stares off at them incredulously.

"You see what I have to deal with?" you say with some degree of affection for the chaos.

"Aw, come on," Steve says, tilting his head with a shrug, "you love it."

"I think they keep forgetting I already have a boyfriend."

Not much of a boyfriend if you ask me, he thinks.

But what he says: "Ah, yes. The elusive Brad."

You roll your eyes and grin at him. You know Steve has a crush on you. Or else the kids and Robin wouldn't be so adamant on marketing him to you. It's sweet, really. And honestly, you don't think Steve's unfit to play boyfriend or anything, but you're also not disloyal.

Your scoop melts down the side of the cone between your fingers. Steve nearly hurls himself across the counter handing you a thick stack of napkins.

"Shit, thanks," you huff, lapping at the stream of sticky ice cream. His stomach churns as his face screws into a sickly smile.

"Yeah. No problem."

"No, really"—you wrap a napkin around the cone, shoving the rest into your pocket—"I don't know what I'd do if I had to pay the entire bill everytime one of them had a craving."

"Really, it's not a problem," he shrugs it off like it doesn't come out of his paycheck. "I like helping out pretty girls when I can."

You giggle and tilt your head. "Steve Harrington, you're my hero."

He's almost embarassed at how fast his face flushes red hot and frantic. He reaches for the back of his neck on impulse, and any attempt he makes at seeming suave is foiled by Robin patting him on the shoulder.

"If you think that's heroic, there was this one time he singlehandedly saved Hawkins with this sick baseball bat with nails—"

He huffs, "Robin—"

"No, seriously! Don't be so modest, Steve, you're selling yourself short!"

"I'm not trying to sell myself at all!" he says, turning her around and guiding her towards the door to the back room.

"Great seeing you!" she hollers over her shoulder just before disappearing behind the swinging door. You wave with a chuckle. Steve tuts, fixing his sailor hat and shaking his head.

"Did you really do all that? Save Hawkins, I mean?" you ask. And you seem genuinely interested which is why it guts him. The one girl who actually gives a shit is coincidentally unavailable.

"Yeah," he says, shrugging, "but only to clear my conscience. It's like penance, or whatever."

You giggle, not sure if he's being truthful or playing it off. He meets your eyes and he's sure his heart stops dead in his chest for a beat. Nobody pulls off mall lighting like you.

The kids come skipping back to the counter, declaring they've all got different wants and needs around the mall for the next few hours.

"Okay, hold on, I promised I'd have you guys back before my date," you say, Steve overseeing the conversation from over your shoulder.

"Well," he interjects, "when's your date?" All the attention shifts to Steve, and he suddenly wishes he could swallow up the words and take them back for good.

"Two hours from now. Across town," you say, looking a little guilty knowing he's about to make the kindest offer of the year.

"I'm off at five, so I can just"—stop talking—"take them home after my shift."

"Steve, really, you don't have to—"

El grins, eyes wide as she whispers in Max's ear.

Steve shakes his head, "Sweetheart, believe me, I want to. Besides, you've already been through enough with the rascals. Go have fun."

You turn to the kids, almost pleading with them to accept Steve's generosity.

"Is that okay with you guys? I don't wanna leave you stranded," you admit.

They nod in agreement, throwing out a couple yes's and sure's. They're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, but you still feel bad dumping them on Steve like this.

Dustin interrupts: "This really just goes to show how Steve is a great candidate for marriage and other domestic relations. He can be odd at times and he might care too much about his hair, but you can tell by his actions that he would be a very reliable husband, a generous life partner, and—"

"And a great friend," you giggle, trying not to let Dustin get too carried away. You have sat through enough of his speeches for one day. "Now, quit trying to set us up!"

Steve rolls his eyes at the boy. "Seriously, at least wait 'til she's single. Then she can reject me for me."

You whip back to face him with a sour look on your face.

"Steven! That's not—that's rude to yourself," you huff, "Say three nice things."

He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at you.

"You're pretty, I like your shoes, and you smell nice."

"About you!"

"Ohh," he feigns surprise, "No." But you reach across the counter to whack him on the arm with a shocking amount of force. The kids chuckle from behind you. Steve can't help but smile when you raise your brows proudly. "Fine! I am deserving of love, I am great company, and my hair looks particularly shiny today."

"Good," you nod, "I agree. And I have to go, see ya!"

"With which one?" he says, watching you jog out of the store waving. "Wait! Sweetheart? Agree with which one??"

Steve sighs sharply, hands perched decidedly on his hips as his gaze falls flat on the militia of pre teens staring him down.

"What do you want?" he says.

"You're hopeless," Max says, mouth pressed in a hard line before she wanders off, arm-in-arm with El.

"Yeah, dude. And kinda desperate," Mike shrugs.

"Hey," he grumbles. Who knew such harsh words could come from such little humans. You'd think they'd be harmless at this age. You'd be wrong. 

"You're a total virgin," Dustin says, very matter-of-factly.

Steve cocks a brow, honestly trying not to laugh at the severity of Dustin's demeanor when he says it. "I don't even think you know what that means."

Dustin blinks. "Well, I think you haven't had sex in long enough that you qualify as one."

"Shit."

...

Much to Steve’s surprise, it only takes butthead Brad two more weeks to absolutely shatter your heart. No one knows the complete details other than it happened at a frat party and you had to walk back to the dorms alone. But Steve doesn’t need complete details to know he wants to shatter Brad’s jaw with his fist.

But he also vowed to use means other than violence to get his point across. He should be awarded for the amount of restraint it took to see your bloodshot eyes and not speed immediately off towards Asshole University like a Brad-seeking atomic missile.

Of course, he’s thankful you felt comfortable enough to call him. In fact, he was the first one you rang. And he knows this fact because you told him while you were sniffling away tears a week and a half after the break up.

Now, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his beemer, curled into your sweater, and listening to late night soft rock radio while he focuses on the dark highway ahead of him. You hadn’t wanted to do anything else but sit in his car and think. His heart clenches everytime you wipe away a tear with your soggy sleeve.

He pulls off the highway during an ad break, finding a secluded diner surrounded by nothing but trees and gas stations. He pulls into a parking spot near the back of the lot where the overhead lights aren’t blinding, but you aren’t completely in the dark. He leaves the car on so the cold doesn’t seep in, engine still purring softly from under the hood.

“Who needs ‘em,” he says in attempt to lighten the mood. “Being single is way cooler. Take it from me. You get a bed all to yourself and you can fart whenever you want.”

You’re frowning, but you know he means well. You just can’t help the fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Oh, come here,” he whispers, leaning over the center console and dipping his hands over your shoulder and around your waist. His arms feel so strong and so warm where they envelop you entirely. Steve always was the best hug you ever receieved.

You can’t help but chuckle wetly into his collar after a moment.

“God, he was such an asshole, wasn’t he?”

“Uh, duh! Doesn’t take a genius to…” Steve laughs, pausing and brushing the hair away from your damp cheeks. “I know, sweetheart, and you deserve heaps better. You were always way too cool for that loser.”

You blink up at him in the low light. There’s a kind of twinkle in your eye that makes the tips of his ears hot. This time, you reach for him, weaving your arms beneath his jacket with a deep sigh. Your breathing slows against his neck, and he rubs your back while your arms tighten a little around his waist.

He can’t help but wonder what you’re thinking whenever you look at him with your doe eyes, seemingly sweet and far too inquisitive. He knows you’re probably just looking, maybe thinking of something else. But the hopeless romantic in him rattles his rib cage and shouts you might actually consider him this time.

“Wanna go get shakes? On me,” he whispers. You sniffle, wiping your aching nose on the cuff of your sleeve.

“I can pay for myself,” you tease, popping open the car door when he cuts the engine.

“Nope! Sorry, I don’t let girls pay, remember? Super sexist, I know. Plus the whole pretty privilege thing. Honestly, I should just be paying you at this point,” he says, hooking his arm around your back and feeling yours reach for his shoulder as you march towards the diner.

“I agree, rich boy,” you chuckle, “Reparations are in order for wrongdoings on behalf of your sex.”

He chuckles. He’s absolutely head over heels.

The waitress seats you at a cozy booth in the corner and makes a casual comment about the cute couple, asking how long you two have been together. Steve flounders at the question, flustered and pink in the face.

“Oh, we’re actually… not together,” you say, laughing awkwardly when she pouts and, again, remarks on how cute you’d be together. You order shakes for the both of you before perching your chin in your hand. Steve’s still reeling when the waitress walks away.

“Funny. We can’t even escape the third-degree from complete strangers,” you tease, winking at him from just a few feet away. Jesus, he’d think you were trying to kill him if you didn’t seem so lighthearted and playful.

“Yeah, pretty funny,” he sighs. And he’s probably being so obvious. Or maybe that’s how he is all of the time, so his heart eyes seem subtle. Or it’s obvious all of the time.

The waitress slides the shakes in front of you, and the bright red cherries sink further into the whipped cream.

“You know,” you murmur between sips, “I always thought you were pretty cute.”

He nearly chokes on his mouthful of chocolate malt, clearing his throat and trying not to crumble in on himself.

“Oh. Yeah, I get that a lot,” he huffs, “Mostly from little old ladies, but—Hey!”

You flick him and say, “Really! I know it’s not couth considering… Brad and all, but…”

“You’re being facetious,” Steve accuses.

“No—”

“Sarcastic!”

“Steve—”

“Ironic?”

“Try serious!” you hum, “I’m just saying, you’re very handsome. I was shocked to learn you were single when we first met.”

Steve’s blushing and puffing trying to maintain eye contact.

“What can I say? I’m just,” he huffs, “I’m not really worried about it.”

You tilt your head. “You’re not?”

“Nah. I know the right girl will find me in the end. Even if it takes a while. I don’t mind waiting for the right one.”

You settle back in the padded seat, wincing when it squeals beneath you. It makes you feel a little dejected, but you suppose he’s right. Especially because he seems so confident. So sure. It’s admirable. You want to be that sure of soulmates and love and the future.

“I feel the same way,” you whisper. He finishes off the rest of his glass with a smile.

“Though, it doesn’t exactly help having a bunch of little shitheads telling you to go get laid all the time,” he laughs.

“Oh, yeah, tell me about it” you lean in, “Just break up with him, steve is so much nicer. Dump that loser. Steve has a big crush on you.”

“They said that?” Steve’s not dumb, he’s sure you know by now, but he thought it was all conjecture. They will be hearing about this next time they want free ice cream.

“Yeah, that was like their main point. But I know with all the love in my heart they’re all full of shit.”

You shrug, and he chuckles dryly. He can’t decide whether you knowing is for better or for worse.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

Steve drives you home. You fall asleep in the car, and he keeps the radio low so as not to wake you. By the time he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t care about the time or the fact that he lives far. He does, however, care about the way you smile lazily and peck his cheek in thanks.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

He says it but he wants to tell you what he’s feeling. He wants to ask if you’re over Brad. He knows you’re not and that’s okay, but he wants to ask if he can hold your hand to keep it warm. He wants to ask what kind of flowers you like and if it would be okay for him to drop them off on your doorstep tomorrow. He has so much he wants to say and do, but he doesn’t want to suffocate you.

He doesn’t know that you wouldn’t mind him asking.

more like this

masterlist

[italiansteebie]

for some reason, eddie munson has been hanging out at scoops. scoops ahoy, of all places.

robin isn't sure why he's here, but it seems when he shows up, her rich bitch of a coworker, steve harrington, seems to get real flustered.

how interesting.

she watches from the corner of her eye as steve strikes out with yet another girl, and as eddie scoffs in his direction. it's not harsh, though. more of a fond, knowing look, to which steve meets with his own matching expression.

it seems practices, casual, even. do eddie and steve know each other? outside of boring school hierarchies? are they friends?

the way they're interacting now sure seems like it.

she catches steve's eye, watching as a blush rises to his cheeks, before he ducks his head and wiggles his fingers in some sort of wave at her.

she scoffs and looks back to where eddie was, only to find that he'd moved on already. she pretends not to notice the disappointment on steve's face.

were they actually friends? it seems unlikely but, hey. who is she to judge, the dingus is actually pretty cool sometimes.

---

turns out, the king and the freak were much closer than robin once thought.

and cooler too.

though, that was physically speaking, because about thirty seconds ago, she'd walked in on them in the freezer. luckily, they were only kissing, still, it was a sight she'd never lose.

she power walked back to the break room. "oh my god." she whispered to herself as she sat at the table. "buckley! buck, hey. robin," there was eddie, he looked a bit flustered and the situation fully set in. "hey-"

"robin, you can't-" eddie heaved a breath, "you can't tell anyone, please," his tone was pleading, and his eyes were wide with fear. a concerned part of her wondered where steve was, if he was too ashamed to show his face. no, he wasn't like that.

"it's okay, i- uh. i have a crush on tammy thompson."

"wh- oh. that's great, good. good." eddie breathed. "i gotta go check on stevie." he told her, jerking a thumb towards the walk in.

how steve was still in there was beyond her, that little box was cold.

it was a few minutes before both boys emerged once more, tears frozen to steve's face as he walked out, shaking hands grasping at ring clad fingers.

he was scared. scared of her, robin realized.

"steve-"

"it's okay, robin. eddie told me," he sniffled, hands still shaking. "thanks for being cool about this, my dad would actually kill be if he found out, i- uh. yeah. thanks." he sighed, shoulders finally relaxing, falling away from his ears.

"of course, steve."

"tammy thompson, though?"

"i know, right?" eddie giggled from next to him, still holding steve in a comforting embrace, smiling as steve laughed.

robin scoffed, "what's wrong with tammy?"

"nothing," eddie said casually, while steve decided to forgo pleasantries, "she's a total dud." he scoffed. "she is not!" robin protested, mouth open in amused shock. "glad to see you're back to your bitchy self, sunshine," eddie laughed, watching their antics.

ridiculous.

---

i read @scoops-stevie 's recent post and was ✨inspired✨

[mixsethaddams]

You expect me to believe that Eddie Munson, freak of Hawkins High, heard that King Steve himself was selling ice cream in a dumb little sailor costume, and didn’t go to see for himself? Steve’s fall from grace would have been the only news worth knowing for the other students, especially the ones that were without doubt in the firing line of the rich kids and jocks.

But if Eddie turned up at Scoops Ahoy one day with the full intention of making fun of him, only to turn around at the door as soon as he caught sight of the shorts because god damn, then thats his own business.

[stevesjockstrap]

@stcreators event 01: favorite

Ahoy Captain

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie stopped walking so sharply that Gareth ran into his back. He did a double take and his jaw was on the floor.

“What the fu-“ But Gareth followed his gaze and his jaw also dropped. “Is that?”

Jeff came to stand next to them, eyebrows raised. “…Steve Harrington in a sailor outfit?”

“That’s the Steve Harrington you won’t shut up about?” Drew said, especially loud in the crowded mall.

“Shut up!” He turned to hiss at him before rounding back to stare across the hall. “Did I die and go to heaven? Pinch me.” He pulled the sleeve of his leather jacket up and offered his arm to Gareth. He pinched his forearm roughly, without looking down. All of their eyes were locked on the figure in the brightly colored ice cream shop, now coming around the counter to crouch down to hand a cone to a small child. Doing so making the tiny shorts ride up his thighs, but Eddie’s eyes were suddenly drawn to where his v-neck hung open, getting a glimpse of chest hair.

“Buh,” he turned to Gareth to announce.

“Yo, we have to go in there. This is like once in a lifetime shit.”

Eddie adamantly shook his head and started backing away but Gareth and the guys shared a look before suddenly grabbing him under the arms to escort him awkwardly through the mall thoroughfare.

“Oh no. Oh no.” He chanted under his breath.

Back behind the counter now, Steve greeted them as they bodily pushed him into the store. “Welcome, fellas! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain!”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed. It’s so much worse, being this close. Steve’s eyes shine under the terrible fluorescent lighting and he can see the muscles in his arms flex as he leans onto the counter.

“If you need any help let me know. The flavor of the week is triple decker extravaganza!”

Eddie’s brain had stopped working. His arms were dropped as his friends went further up to the counter to look at the ice cream options. He continued staring stupidly at Steve as he leaned a hip against the back counter.

“You guys check out the new record store yet?” Steve Harrington was actually making decent conversation with them. What universe did he teleport to this morning?

“No, not yet,” Gareth answered. “That’s where we were heading actually, when uh-“ he awkwardly turned around to make eye contact with Eddie, still a few feet behind them and drawing Steve’s attention over to him.

“You don’t want anything?” Steve asked him. Oh he wanted something. Wanted to drop to his knees in front of him. Or the other way around. He wouldn’t mind either way. He would’ve done anything to have Steve’s undivided attention on him and now that he had it he was blanking on English. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He finally forced his body forward, tearing his eyes away from Steve to send a panicked look at Gareth. He just smirked, the absolute asshole.

Steve frowned at him and he wanted to melt into the floor. “If you’re not a fan of ice cream we have cookies, too.”

Steve being so sweet to him finally rattled some brain cells loose. “Oh, um, no, that’s-“

Jeff chuckled from the other side of Gareth. “Eddie here loves ice cream. That’s why we had to stop in. Isn’t that right, guys?” The rest of his band laughed obnoxiously and nodded. Steve looked at all of them confused, but still with an easy smile when he turned back to Eddie.

“What’s your favorite?”

“Um, huh?” Eddie blinked at him. He watched as Steve pulled his bottom lip in to bite it, probably trying to figure out what was happening with him and the guys. Eddie’s gut clenched. He hoped he didn’t think he was doing anything wrong or they were making fun of him.

“Your favorite ice cream? We can talk about any of your other favorites after we get that out of the way,” he grinned at him and Eddie had to grab the counter in front of him when his knees threatened to give out.

“Rocky road?”

“Perfect. Coming right up! Cup or cone? Or waffle bowl? It’s like a big cone in a cup?”

“Cone please?”

Once he wasn’t under the heavy gaze of gorgeous brown eyes, he turned to his friends for help. But Drew just snickered at him and Jeff sent him a thumbs up. Dicks.

Steve handed him his cone and their fingers brushed. He dumped all the change he had into the tip jar and Steve fucking winked at him. The guys ordered their ice creams suspiciously easily, but Steve kept coming back to Eddie’s side of the counter. He tried hard not to hold eye contact with him as he licked across his ice cream.

“So was it worth it?”

“Wh-what?” He stammered.

“Coming in, for the ice cream?”

“Definitely. The ice cream is… great.” He looked around and realized his friends had gone to sit in the furthest booth by the door. Steve had only been sweet and amazing to him and he couldn’t leave without at least having a somewhat competent conversation. “But I- I really came in to see you.”

“Me?” Steve leaned further across the counter towards him. He turned those big brown eyes up at him and Eddie wasn’t sure if he could get any other words out.

“Couldn’t walk away from you in this getup.” His hand moved on his own accord to reach out and tug on the red tie in the middle of his chest.

“Oh,” he huffed. “Yeah. I wish I would’ve known before I agreed to work here. Not that I had any better offers.”

Eddie’s fingers itched to run along the blush that appeared across his cheeks.

“No, no, it’s- I mean, I like it.” He winced as it came out, but his eyes shot open when Steve chuckled. “Really. I really like it.” He cleared his throat because that couldn’t have been his voice. It was deep and gravely and sounded way too fucking hot to have come out of his mouth.

Steve’s wide eyes tracked his tongue as it came out to wet his lips. Fuck.

“Oh.”

Eddie leaned a bit closer, drawing on this unknown confidence that came from Steve Harrington hanging on his every word. “So what time do you get off, Captain?”

xx

This was a benedryl-fueled thought but Scoops!uniform Steve was the only thing my brain wanted to give me for “favorite.”

@lighthousebeams

[ryan-waddell11]

this is the other love of my life if y’all weren’t aware

[stevesbipanic]

Steddie headcanon that Eddie being someone with not a lot of money to go out and do things a lot spent a lot of time wandering the new Starcourt since wandering is free. This leads him to discovering the old King Steve now works in a little sailor costume at Scoops Ahoy. Picture this though, he's all ready to go crack a joke at Steve, maybe get a bit back on him for being an asshole in high school (Steve never got him but he didn't stop it either), when Max, El and Lucas come into the shop. Steve seems super happy to see these kids that can't be more than 13 and he sneaks them ice cream when, who he recognises from band as Robin, isn't looking. It's so strange that he decides to leave Steve alone for today.

But a few days later he's all ready to go back after window-shopping the music store when two boys (Will and Mike) are chatting to Steve at Scoops. One of the boys seems nervous about something while Steve and the other kid seem to be hyping him up.

This keeps happening whenever Eddie visits the mall and slowly he starts to think maybe King Steve isn't King Steve anymore, and without fully realising it he starts developing a crush on him.

This crush is all for nothing when soon after Starcourt burns down (He was thankful to see Robin and Steve's name weren't on the list of dead) and Eddie goes back to school without the graduated Steve.

When he sees Steve's kids start high school with him he makes sure to keep them under his wing, and when it's Steve and his kids that come to rescue him, well that crush didn't exactly fizzle out the way he thought.

[hardboiledleggs]

Tattoo Artist Eddie Munson Part 2

Part 1 Here!

I could kiss all of you consensually on the mouth, you were so nice about part 1 I cried several times. Here is the long awaited part 2, which I am considering turning into a full length fic on ao3 so if anyone wants to follow me there here it is! Sorry it is so short! This is mostly a stepping stone for my plan for part 3. As always, if anyone would like to be added to my permanent Steddie fic tag list or the tag list for this fic specifically, let me know below :)

~~~

As a general rule, Steve considers himself a confident person. Unfortunately, there’s something about Eddie Munson that reduces him to a nervous, sweaty wreck with decidedly NOT perfect hair. Every time he pulls the now well-worn scrap of paper with Eddie’s number from his pocket, his heart rate jumps to an unhealthy level, and he stuffs it away. This has, of course, royally pissed off Robin Buckley.

“I mean, Jesus Christ, Steve. What is the point of getting a cute guy’s number if you aren’t even going to use it? I think I would have called him more than you have by now, and he doesn’t even have boobies!”

Steve crosses his arms and lets out a disgruntled huff. “Look, I told him some seriously personal stuff, okay? I doubt he even wants me to call him.”

Robin shoots him a deadly glare as she restocks the chocolate chunk ice cream, her stern look tempered slightly by her ridiculous sailor outfit. Scoops Ahoy is an okay place to work, all things considered, but Steve has considered reporting the ice cream shop to the Better Business Bureau for the uniforms alone.

“Why the hell would he give you his number, then? Please don’t be a dingus,” she snorts as she wipes an arm across her sweaty forehead.

“He probably felt bad for me, okay? Seriously. If I had told you that story, you wouldn’t be like ‘Wow, can’t wait to jump his bones!’ You’d think I was a pathetic dude with daddy issues,” Steve groans, flopping forward against the counter. His track record with guys had been, so far, awful. It was hard enough to be a bisexual man in the 80s, let alone in a small town in Indiana. One wrong move, the wrong word, and he could be arrested or worse. It didn’t give a guy a whole lot of confidence.

“For the record, I wouldn’t have wanted to jump your bones regardless, but whatever,” Robin says dryly. Her eyes are soft as she catches his arm. “Just don’t let yourself lose out on something nice ‘cause you’re scared, okay?”

Steve doesn’t look at her as he tugs out of her grip and starts organizing the spoons.

~~~

Eddie Munson has always hated places like the Starcourt Mall. There are always way too many people, too much erroneous noise, and the workers start to follow you around the store if you start touching everything that looks like it might be soft. However, even he cannot deny the hypnotic pull of a brand-new Tower Records shop.

Weaving in between soccer moms and bubblegum-chewing teenage girls, he skids around a corner and gazes above the heads of the crowd, trying to spot the Tower Records logo amongst the perms. Nothing catches his eye except a blue and red neon sign flashing ‘Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor’ across the mall. Figuring there were worse places to take a break and get directions, Eddie shrugs and fights his way through the crowd and steps into the nautical ice cream parlor.

The man at the counter has his back to Eddie, but upon hearing Eddie’s boots squeak on the linoleum he turns and begins to recite sullenly, as if from a drilling manual; “Ahoy, are you ready to set off into an ocean of flavor with me as your capt-“

Steve snaps his mouth shut when he makes eye contact with Eddie. In comparison, Eddie’s mouth is gaping like a beached trout, and he doesn’t seem to have the capacity to shut it, because Steve, “tattoo boy who he had moaned and whined about to Argyle for literal hours” Steve, is standing right in front of him in tiny shorts and a sailor’s hat and is that lip gloss?

His face is on fire, smoke might be coming out of his ears, but he can’t bring himself to look away from the shorts. Apparently, the Scoops Ahoy motto was “Serve ice cream and invade Eddie Munson’s wet dreams for at least a month!” Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot, his discomfort growing as the silence stretches longer. It had been days since they’d met, and Steve hadn’t called once. Wayne had gotten so sick of him asking if he had any messages that he’d threatened to tear the phone out of the wall.

“Well, hiya Stevie. How’d that ink turn out? Thought I might get to hear about it after you left, but I think my phone might be busted? That, or my uncle is lying to me about not getting any messages.” There. False bravado. The tried and true method of any queer man about to get rejected by an obscenely handsome ice cream salesman.

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurts. His hands twitch, as though he wanted to reach across the grimy counter but thought better of it at the last second. “I didn’t know how to call you and… so I didn’t.”

His face is ashen, full lips parted as he breathes. Eddie thinks he might never see a more beautiful thing in his life, but he takes a step back, a false grin stretching his lips into a practiced and careful expression.

“Hey, man, no big deal. I misread things. It happens! You were darling, and I am well-known for my sweet tooth.” He smiles a real smile this time and holds out his hand to shake. “No hard feelings as long as you can point me in the direction of the new record store?”

Steve stares at his ring-clad fingers for too long before he turns and starts to wrestle with the junky cash register on the counter. Something snaps as he yanks it open and fumbles for the receipt paper, tearing off a sheet and beginning to scribble furiously. Eddie is just thinking to himself that this guy must think he’s too stupid to remember one or two sentences of directions when the paper is shoved into his outstretched hand. Steve has scrawled his full name and number in thin, slanted handwriting.

A bubble of hope rises in Eddie’s chest as he stares at the piece of paper in his hand. This isn’t platonic with a capital P. Or at least if it is, the universe is mean and should reevaluate how it operates.

“This way you can call me, because I’m a total chickenshit and am definitely terrified of you,” Steve declares as he gnaws on his bottom lip. “Or if I fucked it up that’s whatever and I get it. The record store is like 15 stores down to the right.” He looks like a puppy someone had kicked and left out in the rain.

“When is your shift over? Or rather, when will you be home and sitting by the phone?” Eddie asks in a breathless rush.

Steve’s face brightens with a shy but triumphant smile. “I’m off at 7, home by 7:15!”

“7:30, loverboy. I need a ride.” The pane of frosted glass behind Steve slides open, revealing a pretty girl in a similar uniform to her coworker, although her outfit isn’t having quite the same effect on Eddie as Steve’s is. Grinning like a hyena, she pulls a whiteboard out from behind her and uncaps a marker, putting a single tally in a column labeled “You Rule” that has thus far remained empty. Steve tosses a waffle cone at her head, which she ducks, before sliding the panel shut once more.

“7:30 then. Got it. Expect my call, big boy,” Eddie bows theatrically. He steps backward, attempting a suave exit, and spins around before he can say anything else horrific and embarrassing like “Need a skipper for your next voyage?”

As he is hurrying out of the shop, he hears a crash and a shout of “Buckley, you are so dead!” Eddie grins and stares down at the phone number in his hand, trip to the record store completely forgotten. Steve Harrington had no idea what he was signing up for.

~~~

If I tag you in error I am so sorry!! Please message me or comment and I will take you off no hard feelings I am super frazzled by the response to this series and very likely have screwed up this list. If I missed your name feel free to absolutely roast me in the comments :) I can take the heat

Tag list (Holy moly here we go) - @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @throwbackthrowaway @vampireinthesun @mightbeasleep @steve-the-hairrington @nelotegreitic @swimmingbirdrunningrock @thehumblefigtree @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @idsellmysoulforsteddie @toobluebrunette @azreadytodie @rainydays35 @luna-munson83 @sl1187 @artiststarme @bethebitch @ultrarainbowunicorn100 @doilooklikebees @this-is-moony-lovegood @impeachy @grimmfitzz @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @maya-custodios-dionach @brassreign @kurumeki @zerokrox-blog @starxlark @chaoticvictorianspirit @2nd-star-2-the-rhgt @adankrivervalleynearyou @yikes-a-bee @e0509 @babyblender @shinekocreator @hope-can-be-your-sword @hellomynameismoo @knitsforthetrail @thegingerrapunzel @blindbisexualgoose @4nemo1egend @piningapple @aceflavouredyougurt @cyranyx @fruitandbubbles @eyesofshinigami @thefreakandthehair @prettyboyandthemetalhead @void-library @steddio @jjoesjonas @vecnuthy @twiggspots @spectrum-spectre @henderdads @sweetcreaturetm @morning-rituals @inmoonywetrust @kyoxyukiforever 

[vecnuthy]

Slingin' 🍦⚓️

second entry for @steddiemicrofic pool | wc: 442 | rated: G | cw: a little suggestive at the end

It was the hottest day of the year yet. Mall culture drew the masses, and the masses had flooded Scoops, which was currently manned by only Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington.

The space? Packed.

The line? Through the door.

The sticky ice cream residue smeared across their uniforms caught on their forearms, snagging at their skin as they worked up a sweat in the ice cream shop. They didn't have time to clear tables, clean up spills, or take out the trash, let alone deal with the typical bullshit banter that customers threw at them.

"We're out of peppermint stick."

"How? That's literally your least popular flavor."

It took everything in Robin to just smile flatly. Steve, however, couldn't hold back his exasperation as he threw his head back with an eye roll, pushed through the door to the back, then re-emerged with a challengingly deadpanned, "We're out."

He's pretty sure their ordering a USS Butterscotch was petty revenge. Whatever. It was only the seventh banana split he'd had to assemble in the last hour. His eye didn't twitch or anything.

After that, he and Robin swapped out. Figured it was time, since Steve had been scooping ice cream for so long. No other reason.

"Captain," the next customer greeted with a smirk.

Steve couldn't help but smile.

"What can I get you, sailor?"

"Oh, 'sailor' today," the customer said. Steve shot an amused look of warning. "I see."

Steve took in their appearance — deeply sleeveless band tee, flushed skin, sparkling brown eyes, curly hair in a low bun — as they mulled over options.

"Scoop of chocolate in a cup with a waffle sail, please," they smirked, placing a bill in Steve's open hand.

"You could've just gotten a cone," Steve replied, gathering change.

"Not the same, big boy."

Steve's lips curled up into a smile as he grabbed a spoon, stuck it in the scoop next to the artfully-placed wedge (nice, Robin), and handed the cup to Eddie.

"Aww, no baby spoon?"

"We're out." Steve glanced at his lips.

Eddie's eyes shifted to peer over Steve's shoulder to the well-stocked container.

"I'll eat it too fast."

"Aww," Steve gave a faux sympathetic pout. "Guess you'll have to get another scoop."

Eddie hummed then raised the cup in thanks with, "Birdie."

Robin saluted, and Eddie settled into a seat with a full view of Steve at the counter.

Through the hustle, Steve couldn't help but look over and take in Eddie slowly eating a big spoonful of ice cream. How his lips contoured the lump of chocolate. With full eye contact.

Steve overshot a cup, making strawberry milkshake pool onto his shoes.

[sepetajmikolikomehoces]

Hello and welcome to the story idea that gripped right in the middle if my post New Years funk. A soulmate AU that we can all blame on a cute vet I dreamed about.

I promise it will end well.

Even if the word 'murder' was tossed around for a bit in discussing it.

[munsster]

Hi I just read fixer user and I loved it! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 💖💖

an act of true love

A/N: (your pfp made me scream and curl my toes) an unexpected amount of ppl rlly enjoyed this dynamic. i suppose i have found my people 🤭 (gif creds: @kingofscoops)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: In the dead of winter, there’s absolutely nothing that could keep you warm. After all, only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), mention of toxic ex boyfriend, cursing, gross flirting

Steve can hear you shivering through the receiver and your stuttered breaths crackling through the cord. You’re begging him to come over and fix your radiator in the middle of a snow storm. The roads aren’t closed yet, but a thin white powder blankets his front lawn and the top of his beemer and he can see the flakes whipping through the stream of light pouring from the streetlamp. So, he piles every blanket he has into his passenger seat and braves the drive to your house.

Does he know how to repair a busted radiator? No.

Is he determined to do anything you require of him? Every single day for the rest of his life.

He’s crouched by the window of your living room, looking for any telltale signs of wear or leaking. You’re standing just behind him, bundled in two blankets and holding a spare flashlight. He’s quiet as he tinkers, but your mind is racing watching his soft toned arms through his cream thermal and his back muscles working when he turns over his shoulder to glance at you with a dashing smile. You nod quickly when he says something, though you’re not exactly sure what.

“Sweetheart?” he coos, raising his brows when you recoil under his gaze.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I wasn’t listening,” you say with a chuckle. He grins, dropping his head in understanding.

“Sorry, I know it’s boring,” he says, “but has it been making noises or anything?”

“Oh, yeah! It kinda groans when I first turn it on and it sounds like it might explode for the first couple minutes. I guess I’ve tuned it out by now.”

“That’s probably not a good sound then,” he teases, turning back to the radiator with a puzzled look.

“No, probably not.” You shuffle off to the kitchen, setting a kettle on the stove and humming softly.

After half an hour of tinkering and a roll of tape, Steve stands and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“That should do it! It’ll probably take a sec to heat up again,” he sighs, and you emerge from the kitchen, balancing two hefty mugs brimming with whipped cream. “Ooh, what’s this?”

“Hot cocoa. Secret family recipe,” you tease. In actuality, it’s just the standard package of chocolate powder and sugar. The secret lies in the healthy dash of cinnamon you mix into it.

“Secret, eh? Guess that gives me a reason to come see you more often,” he hums, following you to the couch and taking one of the mugs from your hands. It warms him up nicely, and he knows you gave him the bigger mug on purpose when you smile triumphantly. He takes a sip, moaning at the sweetness. You giggle at the whipped cream kissing his top lip.

“I hope I’m reason enough,” you say with a faux pout. He sits close enough to share the pile of blankets with you, your thighs pressed against one another in the captured heat.

“Duh, you’re the main attraction,” he huffs, “Your hot chocolate is like the flashy side show. It’s pretty neat but not quite as cool as the reason you bought the ticket.”

You giggle into your mug, face hot in the bellowing steam. Or because of his dimpled cheeks. Or the way his eyes swoop over your face. Or maybe the way he came rushing to your rescue in a storm without a second thought.

“Any new Brad-related developments? Or is he still giving you shit?” he says, swallowing a warm gulp of liquid chocolate.

You groan, head lulling back against the couch. “He keeps calling to say I’m a cold hearted bitch and then immediately hang up. I think he forgot that he’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Right, right. Why’s that again?”

“Something about his family’s values. And how he hates my friends,” you say, “I just remember getting mad because he seemed so jealous and mistrusting. Honestly, in hindsight, he was really childish about the whole thing.”

You shrug it off, but it snaps his heart in two all over again. He doesn’t even want to know the gorey details because he knows it’ll boil his blood. Just knowing that asshole said something like that to you makes his fists ball up in frustration. But he thinks of what you said. What did Brad have to be jealous about; he had the entire world and Steve never bat an eye. Not to you, at least.

“Jealous?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, he’d give me all these ultimatums where I’d have to choose between you and him. So random,” you huff. Though, maybe he was justified in some way. You and Steve have been this close since the day you met. Any love interest would feel threatened by his charm and that smile.

“Oh… weird”—He watches you take a cautious sip from your mug like maybe you regret saying anything at all—“Yeah. That’s random. Had no idea I posed such a threat to that guy. He seemed so… self-assured.”

You stare blankly, shrugging when you mutter, “you can call him a narcissistic prick, i don't care. And yeah, I was kinda surprised the first time he brought it up, because a big part of why I was attracted to him was for his confidence” you chuckle, “No idea what went wrong!

Steve absentmindedly squares his shoulders, sitting up straught on the plush cushions trying to make himself look strong and reliable and confident. You sip your hot chocolate and look at him funny.

“Are you okay?” you say, holding in a laugh.

He nods. “Oh, yeah. I’m just super confident ‘s all.”

You snort, choking on the sip you’d sucked down, pinching your eyes closed when he lurches forward with a worried look slapped across his face.

“Shit, here, let me help,” he huffs, setting his mug aside and wiping the drips from your chin with his sleeve, “Oh, god, are you hurt???”

You cackle with tears pricking in your eyes when he carefully takes your mug and places it next to his. You pat dry your neck, and he watches you softly.

“Stevie, you’re so sweet.”

His heart flutters in his warm chest when you smile at him.

“Well, I dunno about that.”

“No, seriously. You’re so caring and thoughtful, I’ve never met anyone like you,” you whisper.

He takes a shaky breath in.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nod heartily and grin wide, and you notice he’s staring at you. So you kick his calf under the blanket.

“Hey, ouch!”

You giggle, but he’s quick to grab the crook of your knee and tug you close so you’re laying flat on the couch. Your hands cover your face when he tickles your sides and leans over you playfully. He’s almost glad you can’t see him blushing or feel his heart racing or hear his head booming with thoughts of you. He gasps when you plant your socked foot on his thigh, but he holds your elbow gently to keep you close to him while he leans over you.

You’re laughing, and he can confidently say it’s his favorite sound. You palm his chest, and he takes a deep breath in. Your eyes flick open because you’ve never felt someones heart beat so fast and so warm just beneath your fingertips. He’s flushed and pink but he looks like a prince in the orange lamplight. And he’s so close to you.

Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, barely grasping, and you crane your neck towards him. You watch his honey eyes draw over your lips just before he leans in and kisses you.

His hand molds into your side, melting over the exposed skin like hot syrup. You press into his hold and smile with your fingers drawing up and across the back of his neck.

But the kiss short lived when he pulls away, shoving a hand through his ruffled hair.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve huffs, standing and backing away, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should go!”

He crosses the floor in a daze, forcing his feet back into his shoes before you even can sit up and call after him.

“Steve, wait!”

But he’s shaking his head and reaching for the ice cold door handle with his jacket barely slung over his shoulders. He whips the door open, and you can see the pure white snow floating down in sheets outside.

“Keep the blankets! Just call me if the radiator breaks again, and I’ll see you!”

The door slams shut.

You tut, hand coming to your lips as you look around at the scene before you. The abandoned mugs on the coffee table, his blankets folded over the back of the couch, your repaired radiator whirring softly in the corner. The absence of Steve. What would the kids say. You know they’d lose it, but would they be upset if you ended up together. Would they realize they changed their minds and you’d jeopardized not only your friendship with Steve but with the entire party.

What if everything changes?

Oh, but what if nothing changes: you and Steve tip toeing around each other, the kids scheming and giggling at your misfortune, but now changed by the fact that you’ve kissed Steve. And he kissed you back. And you like him so much.

"Oh, god.”

more like this

masterlist

[madaboutmunson]

Title: POP!

written for ‘pin’ prompt by @steddiemicrofic

wc: #388| rated: T | cw: cursing, reference to drug deal

"Jesus, Steve, Ow!" Robin frowned, rapidly retracting her hand from Steve's pocket and shaking the sting from it. Deciding to eat outside today was a mistake. It was so cold that Robin had sought heat in Steve's jacket.

Robin paused and frowned deeper before looking at Steve, "Why do you even have a pin in your jacket anyway? I know you haven't taken up sewing."

"Oh, you know, just in case," Steve said, munching on some broken cones. Finding a stale one, he tossed it over his shoulder and picked up a banana. It was hardly a well-rounded lunch, but it was free.

"Steve, that is not only the most ridiculous thing I've heard from you today, and believe me when I say that it takes some doing with the nuggets of wisdom you drop regularly, but this is also the most ridiculous place for it to be."

Instead of defending his choice, he hummed in agreement because something or, rather, someone had captured his attention.

A van screeched to a halt in the parking lot out the back of the mall, and the reason for the pin in his pocket stumbled out of it to make a not-so-subtle drug deal through the window of the car next to it.

When Steve was a kid, he'd gone to a town fair, found a dollar on the floor, and got himself a balloon. But soon, he found himself balloonless and left crying behind a ring toss when it got stolen by some other kids from school.

A dark figure had spider-climbed its way down to him, asked him what happened, flashed him a pin, and set about stalking the thief and popping the balloon. When he handed Steve the pin, he told him to keep it 'just in case' and told him his name was Eddie.

So when someone roughly pulled Eddie into the car window, Steve leapt from the upside-down crate he'd been sitting on and sprinted over to intervene. A rapidly approaching sailor was enough for Eddie to be released and for the car to speed away.

"Shit, Thanks, dude," Eddie said, brushing himself down, "You didn't have to do that."

A fond smile spread over Steve's face, "Sure I did," He said as he slipped the pin into the lapel of Eddie's vest, "Just in case."

[summer-eighty-five]

S3 harringrove fanfics where billy joins the scoop troop are the absolute fucking best

[stobinesque]

@steddie-week day 2: fluff | 1.8k words | teen and up

The door to the apartment slammed shut, followed by the jingle-clang of keys landing in the ceramic bowl Robin had made for Steve two years ago.  

"Babe?" Steve looked up from the magazine he'd been flipping through and frowned at the stormy expression on Eddie's face. 

Eddie barely acknowledged him, just swept past with stomping feet, dropping an absentminded kiss to the top of Steve's head as he made his way into the bedroom. A few moments later Steve heard the telltale thunk and flop of Eddie's bag hitting the ground and the man himself hitting their bed.

Ah, so one of those days.

Steve set down his magazine, folded his reading glasses neatly atop it, and pushed himself up from the couch to make for the bathroom.

~*~*~*~

Eddie wanted to die. Nope, no, he wanted to commit a homicide. 

Actually, scratch that, being wanted for murder sucked.

What he wanted was for the world not to be full of a bunch of entitled little shitsacks who had never been taught how to talk to another human being who didn't have a white collar around their neck.

At least his bed was there to support him. The mattress was a little lumpy, sure, but nothing could outmatch the satisfaction of dramatically flinging oneself onto a flat surface after a shity day at work. 

The sound of running bath water filtered into Eddie's awareness. 

Okay, maybe one thing.

Steve usually allowed him a few minutes to sulk and brood when he got home feeling like shit. Sometimes interacting with any human (even someone he would literally—and nearly did—die for) was just too much. 

"Eds?"

"Mmph." Eddie spit some of the hair that had landed in his mouth out, but didn't bother to raise his head more than half an inch off the bed to do so.

Steve chuckled. "Okay, five more minutes—otherwise the water will get too cold. I'm gonna go make us some tea."

Eddie raised an arm and waved vaguely in the direction of Steve's voice in acknowledgement.

He let himself drift for his five minutes to the sound of Steve puttering around the kitchen—grabbing mugs, teabags, the sugar jar—before peeling himself up off the bed when the shrill whistle of the kettle pierced through the relative silence of the apartment. If he wasn't in the bath by the time Steve made it there he'd be in trouble. Which could be fun, but it wasn't what he was in the mood for today. 

Eddie stripped off his—itchy, sweaty, suffocating—uniform as he padded over to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him as he went.

~*~*~*~

Steve waltzed back into the bathroom with two steaming mugs in his hand to find Eddie already situated in the tub, knees pulled up under his chin, hair piled up in a messy bun, and one hand dragging lazily across the surface of the water. 

Steve set both mugs down on the ground next to the bath. "Hey, baby," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple.

"Hi." Eddie's voice was low and subdued.

“Bad day?” Steve asked as he pulled his shirt up and over his head.

Eddie shrugged. “You could say that.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve shucked off his jeans.

Eddie shook his head. “Not much to talk about.”

“Okay.” Steve folded his clothes, set them in a neat stack atop the closed toilet lid, and carefully lowered himself into the bath behind Eddie.

The water was just a touch too hot for his own comfort, but Eddie ran cold and preferred his baths on the scalding warmer side. (Shared showers were a trial. Eddie insisted that Steve was trying to murder him with frostbite. Steve maintained that Eddie was trying to boil the both of them alive.)

Some of the tension had already bled out just from being in the bath. Eddie’s shoulders were no longer curled up around his ears—instead, he was slouched forward into the water. 

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressed a kiss to the patchy birthmark high up on his back, smiling when Eddie responded with a humming little sigh. “Wash my hair?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Eds.”

Steve reached over to grab the shampoo and tiny bucket they left in the shower just for this. “Wanna drink some of your tea before I douse you?”

Eddie didn’t say anything, but reached out blindly to grab one of the steaming mugs next to the tub. Steve didn’t bother holding back a snort that he’d managed to grab the “Don’t Bother Me, I’m Crabby” mug they’d nicked from Wayne. 

Eddie took a slow sip of the tea, and the second he’d set it back down and straightened back up, Steve dumped a bucket of warm water over his head.

Eddie spluttered. “Babe, what the fuck!”

Steve snickered from behind him. “Just wanted to make sure you were here on earth with me, bedhead.”

Eddie shook his head like a rain-soaked dog. “You could have at least taken out the ponytail first!”

“I suppose I could have,” Steve said, lips twitching up into a smile as he reached up to start pulling Eddie’s dark curls from where they’d gotten tangled in the hair tie. “I got you talking again in something other than a monotone, though.”

“Maybe I was enjoying playing the dark, broody hero.”

Steve pinched Eddie’s side, which resulted in a high-pitched squeak, and a wild flail that had water splashing up around them. "Behave," Steve chastised—though the warning was undercut by the laugh of unconcealed delight he barked out as Eddie’s arms swung around him. 

"You're the one assaulting me in my time of suffering!"

"Suck it up, buttercup,” Steve shot back, combing his fingers through wet curls and gently detangling each and every knot he ran into. He couldn't help but rub the silky-soft strands between his fingers as he went. Steve's own day had been slow and uneventful, but a quiet sort of unease had been hovering at the edges for hours. Drawing Eddie a bath and settling in behind him to wash his hair helped settle Steve back into his body just as much as it did for Eddie. 

Steve began working shampoo into Eddie's roots, massaging his fingers into his scalp, and Eddie's head tipped back as he let out a pleased hum that sounded almost like a purr. "Love your fingers in my hair, Stevie," he mumbled, sounding a bit hazy.

"Yeah? Is that the only place you like my fingers?" Steve asked, right into Eddie's ear. 

Eddie scrambled back upright and turned to face Steve with an alarmed expression on his face. "No! Why would you think that? Did I say something to make you think that? Please, I’m so sorry, baby. Please know that I love your fingers anywhere on me. Or in me. What if they went somewhere else right now?" 

Steve laughed, grabbing Eddie's shoulder to turn him back around with one hand, and dipping the bucket back into the water to rinse the suds out of Eddie's hair with the other. When Steve was sure he'd thoroughly rinsed Eddie's hair he leaned past him to grab the conditioner and whisper in his ear, "You can get them somewhere else a little later if you're good for me, baby," before leaning back and clicking the bottle open.

"I'll be so good for you, Stevie. Just tell me what I gotta do."

"Keep still and don't sass me for the next five minutes."

Eddie's mouth opened and then immediately snapped back shut as he clearly decided that whatever his response to that was gonna be probably qualified as "sass."

"Good boy," Steve said simply, dropping another kiss to Eddie's back. 

"I can be good when I wanna be," Eddie grumbled. 

"Careful," Steve shot back, gently chiding. He methodically worked the conditioner through Eddie's hair in sections, tugging gently as he did, just for the soft satisfaction that ran through him every time Eddie let out a soft gasp in response to it. 

"Always careful, Stevie," Eddie mumbled back, eyes fluttering shut. 

Steve reached down to brush one hand over the scars running down Eddie's side. "Not always," he whispered, just a little sadly, as he pressed a firm kiss to the mostly-faded ring of scars at his throat. 

"Mm, don't be sad, baby."

"Not sad. Just glad you're alive."

Eddie was quiet for a stretch, and Steve chuckled. 

"What? What were you gonna say, asshole?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, love," Eddie replied, all faux innocence.

"You were gonna say something sassy just then, that's why you went all quiet. So, out with it, come on. How were you gonna sass me in response to me saying I'm glad you're alive?"

"Promise you won't hold it against me?"

"Yeah, baby." Steve leaned over to press a kiss to Eddie’s nose. "This one's a freebie."

Eddie looked over his shoulder with a wide grin, and a twinkle in his eye. "I was gonna call you a sap."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, fuck me for being happy my boyfriend's alive I guess."

"I was actually hoping that you would fuck me," Eddie replied. 

"You're pushing your luck, Eds," Steve warned, yanking lightly at his hair. 

"Sorry, baby."

Steve ran his hands up and down the sides of Eddie's arms. "All forgiven, Eds." 

Steve let his hands drift as he waited for the conditioner to rest—digging his fingers into the dense coils of muscle in Eddie's neck, smoothing his palms down the ridges of Eddie's spine, ghosting his hands up Eddie's sides. When time was up, he grabbed the bucket, turned on the tap to fill it with clean, warm water, and spilled it over Eddie’s head. Steve combed his fingers through the chestnut locks again, making sure he’d thoroughly rinsed them once more. The two of them fell still and silent, like two little stones in the river bed. 

Steve loved this. The quiet trance they fell into, as Eddie relaxed into the water, and Steve pressed kisses into his lover’s skin, and they both forgot the mugs of tea that Steve made. 

Steve separated Eddie’s hair into even sections, savoring the feeling of freshly cleaned locks passing through his fingers as he wove the strands together—over-under, over-under, over-under—and plaited Eddie’s hair down the length of his back. When he was done, he flipped the end of the braid back over Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie leaned further into him, pressing the length of his back against Steve’s chest.

Steve let his hands start wandering, and Eddie let out a soft gasp of surprise when the pads of Steve's thumbs brushed over both nipples. "Steve."

"Shh, I got you baby," Steve murmured, and let one hand drop down to where Eddie was stiffening up beneath the water.

"I know you do, Stevie," Eddie whispered back on a sigh and a gasp. "I know you do."

[hotluncheddie]

bet.

for the october @steddiemicrofic prompt 'suck' ! happy halloween !!

wc: 480 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: bestie robin, chubby steve, horny eddie

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‘bet you can’t keep your hands off him for the whole party.’ robin stares eddie down from across the sofa.

‘what? on Halloween? is that how you think of me bobbie? i’m wounded’ eddie watches steve’s ass as he walks to the kitchen.

robin throws popcorn at him ‘eddie. the only reason you're not still sitting in his lap is because i asked him to get more soda.. literally a second ago.’ 

‘and you were so mean for that.’ eddie folds his arms, eyes flicking between robin and steve at the fridge. robin is scowling.. ‘fine. your bet, what’s the stakes?’

robins scowl drops and she sighs 'i need steve to wingman. the new girl from work is bringing her roommate and it’s been hinted her favourite colour is violet and i need this eddie, like, seriously.’ 

eddie softens. ’it would be homophobic of me to take that away from you.’ poking her with his socked toe. ‘do i get anything? for keeping my hands off?’

‘24 hours. i have a project due but no time till the day before. apartment will be yours. you two can do what you want.. my rooms off limits.’ 

‘you, miss robin buckly, have a deal.’ 

—

‘you, are an evil witch robin buckley’

‘oh, get over it!’ robin huffs, tipsy.

‘how could you do this to me! on halloween!’ eddie pouts.

‘suck it up buttercup. just remember what’s at stake.’ 

‘ughhhh’ 

‘yeah because i’m so sorry i convinced steve to pick that costume. even though he had to buy it, so it’s his, forever.’ 

‘…did i ever tell you you’re the light of my life?’

robin flicks him on the forehead and walks back over to steve and the girl.

eddie tracks her. resigned to sulking. 

and blue balls.

because steve is in a sailor uniform, but this one is off-white with black accents, complementing his tan. the trousers are long, wide in the leg and tight in the ass. cupping around the curve of it, like eddie wishes he was, right now. the hat on his head is at an angle and pushes his hair down, so it frames his rosy cheeks, and pretty smile.

and the top. oh! the top. the flap collar frames broad shoulders and deep v exposes chest hair. it ends at his hipline and flowed nicely but steve’s had a few beers. bloated, his belly has started filling in the front, started pulling around his love handles. the outline of his soft, wide belly button is just visible.

‘just one night.’ eddie mumbles to himself, leaning against a wall. ‘then 24 uninterrupted hours.’

steve readjusts the waistband of his trousers, hiking them a little higher. eddie sees how the movement makes his belly jiggle. 

sliding slowly down the wall and into a heap on the floor; eddie bites his fist and allows himself one tiny, tortured little whimper.  

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Set Sail on Your Ocean of Flavor

Week #6 Prompt: Ice Cream | Word Count: 2560 | Rating: T | POV: Chrissy | Characters: Chrissy, Eddie, Steve, Robin | Pairings: Platonic Stobin, Everything Else is Open to Interpretation (Steddie, Buckingham, Hellcheer, or Cheerscoops? Reader's Choice.) | CW: None | Tags: Pre-S3, Summer 1985, Scoops Ahoy, Chrissy's on a Break from Jason, Spontaneously Hanging Out, Different Crossing of Paths

Chrissy watches as one more tally is marked in the 'you suck' column, and she feels like maybe that's meant for her, too, not just Steve Harrington in his dumb little sailor hat. She dumped Jason, again, but knows it probably won't stick. It never does, and she's not even sure if she wants it to. She doesn't know what she wants, never has, and now she feels like maybe she never will.

Hence, the 'you suck' mentality that seems fitting tonight.

It's just that they've been together since freshman year, and well, she can't really imagine going into their last year without him. She isn't sure she even knows how to be just Chrissy anymore. She feels stagnant, and honestly, a little bit pigeonholed into these roles that have been selected for her: Jason's girlfriend. Cheer captain. Bubbly arm candy, expected to be full of pep all the damn time. Face plastered with a fake smile.

Tonight, she just wanted to turn off her brain for a few hours in the mindless bustle of the mall, and finding herself on the bench across from Scoops Ahoy, watching Robin Buckley endlessly needle Steve Harrington has been unexpectedly fun. People watching is always entertaining, but watching people you know, or at least, kind of know, is even better. 

For the last hour, she's been mulling over the idea that maybe she could get Steve Harrington to take her out, just to make Jason jealous. Steve's reputation isn't what it once was, no longer King Steve, no longer even in high school, but he's still nice enough to look at. Even if he seems bound and determined to make an ass out of himself with every girl that crosses his path in the ice cream shop. He looks desperate now, and that's a marked change. His status as top dog waned in the last year, and she knows that Jason thought, briefly, that he'd maybe be able to grab the reins, the crown, but instead there was Billy Hargrove, ready to fight, and Jason backed down, easily. 

If Jason wasn't gonna fight Steve for it, he certainly wasn't gonna try his luck against Billy.

Honestly, she'd always found it interesting that Steve never seemed to care all that much that his reign was over. There was no death gasp, no struggle to stay in charge. He walked away, and looked relieved to be out, honestly. 

She feels that. Might want it for herself. 

Maybe Steve Harrington could teach her how he did it, give her a peek behind the curtain of what happens after.

And if that makes Jason jealous, it'll be a bonus. Jason would probably still be threatened by the idea of the Harrington name. It still carries weight, even if Steve has fallen from the popular pedestal. 

The ice cream shop is empty now, nearing closing time, and if she's gonna do it, she's gotta do it now.

She starts to stand up, to test the waters to see if he even acts interested at all, when there's suddenly a commotion and falling and flailing and a jangle of metal as the guy she just fucking tripped crashes to the ground. Hard. 

He groans, and she immediately reaches for his arm, "I am so sorry! I didn't see you!"

He rolls over onto his back, and her eyes widen. Eddie Munson. Shit. Damnit. As if there could be a scarier guy for her to trip like a klutz, because he's gonna be in her class next year. She definitely wasn't looking to make an enemy out of him.

You don't want Eddie Munson's mouth pointed in your direction, unless you like to be screamed at from atop a lunch table, and Chrissy most definitely does not.

"Oh my god, are you oka-?" she starts to ask, but then Robin and Steve are both hovering over him, too.

"Man, that was a hit," Steve says, reaching down to grasp Eddie's hand, yanking him roughly to his feet, "Cunningham got you good. I wish I could see the security footage, because I bet it's a doozy."

"Thanks, Harrington," Eddie says dryly, back on his feet and brushing himself off. 

"I am really sorry," Chrissy stresses, and Eddie looks at her, and gives her a little smile.

"It's okay, I wasn't paying attention," Eddie says, his cheeks a little flushed, like he's embarrassed. She wasn't sure that was possible. Not from the same guy that stands on lunch tables, or the bleachers, or shimmies up onto the roof over the exterior walkway between school buildings, pacing, screaming down at everyone at the top of his lungs, at least once a week.

She's pretty sure he spends more time in detention, ISS or OSS than anyone else in the whole student body.

And he's gonna do it all again next year, with her class.

"Obviously you weren't paying attention," Robin snarks, and Chrissy laughs, relieved when Eddie does, too. Maybe he's not as mean and scary as she thought he was.

"Can I buy you some ice cream? To make up for it?" Chrissy offers, tucking her hair behind her ear, like he might tell her to fuck off.

And Eddie does look suspicious at her offer, even if it's totally sincere. She wants to apologize, and Steve and Robin are right here, ready to serve said ice cream, so it seems like the most logical solution for an apology.

"Gotta eat it quick," Steve says, "we close in five."

"And we got places to be," Robin adds.

"Together?" Eddie asks, looking between them, and Chrissy kind of does the same.

"Maybe," Robin says, "what's it to you?"

"Nothing, nothing at all, Buckley," Eddie answers, "I just didn't think Harrington was your type."

"And you know what my type is?" Robin asks, arching her eyebrow, a challenge.

"Pretty sure I do," he answers, scurrying along behind her, "and it's not Harrington."

"Hey!" Steve snaps, like this is the most offensive thing he's ever heard, "I'm a catch."

"Sure you are, Popeye," Robin says, and Chrissy smiles as she watches the three of them banter and volley back and forth, all the way back to the counter. 

Steve grabs the ice cream scoop, twirls it in his hand, and looks right at Eddie, "Alright. What'll it be?"

Eddie is looking down into the glass case, trying to make a decision, so Chrissy buys him some extra time, saying, "I'll take a scoop of peanut butter chocolate swirl." 

"Sounds good," Eddie chimes in, "make it two."

Maybe he can't read? Is that why he keeps flunking high school? Oh my god, no way. 

Steve scoops them up both cones, and hands them over, "There. Go forth. Set sail on your ocean of flavor. Goodnight."

She tries to hand Steve some money, and he just waves her off, closing up the ice cream freezers behind the counter.

"Well, Harrington, you've got me curious. Where are you two off to in such a rush?" Eddie asks, licking his cone, not budging from in front of the counter, and Chrissy notices that Steve's watching Eddie eat the ice cream intently, before his eyes slide back upwards.

Steve rolls his eyes, "If you must know, we're going to see Cocoon, and it starts in," and Steve looks at his watch, "nine and half minutes. So…" he trails off, making a shooing motion with both of his hands. Dismissing them. Chrissy can take the hint.

Eddie can't, apparently.

"The one about the old people? Maybe you should have given me the black walnut," Eddie says, pointing to the tag in front of him, "that seems more appropriate."

So, he can read, definitely, and she feels stupid for thinking he couldn't. She's seen him read, a lot, off in corners of the school, like a bear they'd all rather let lie than poke with a stick.

Steve just shakes his head, so Eddie keeps talking, "Isn't that the movie made by Opie? And you're gonna pay to see it?" Eddie asks, looking curious, tongue darting out to lick another stripe off the cone.

"Well, not exactly," Robin says, and Steve cuts her a look that Chrissy tries to decipher. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," Chrissy says. 

"No," Eddie says at the same time. 

And they all laugh, which makes Eddie smile and it's a nice smile. Definitely not so scary, after all. He seems so normal, and it delights her for some reason. Like she's gotten to see behind the mask.

"Do you have anywhere to be?" Steve asks, looking between the both of them, and they both just shake their heads no. Because she doesn't, and now she's curious.

"Great," Steve says, as he pulls down the gate at the front of the store, locking everything up and turning off the lights, before he herds them towards the employees only break room, hidden behind the swinging door. 

"Wait here," Steve says, and then both him and Robin disappear, leaving her alone with Eddie Munson, eating ice cream, in the back of Scoops Ahoy. It's definitely an odd place to find herself, she must admit.

"Well, that was weird," Eddie says, "Harrington and Buckley. That's the unlikeliest duo I've ever seen."

"Is that so?" Chrissy asks, motioning between the two of them, and Eddie laughs, really laughs. 

"Okay. You just had to one up me," he says, smiling at her. "And after trying to kill me. I see how you are."

"I'm really sorry I tripped you, I didn't mean to," she says, taking a bite of her cone.

"I know. It's fine. I'm like a cat, nine lives and all that. Just didn't get the landing on my feet part," Eddie answers, and Steve comes banging through the doors, in his regular clothes. Robin follows, out of her sailor suit as well.

And Chrissy notices that she's funky. Her style, anyway, with her hair piled messily up on her head. It makes Chrissy feel a little uncool in her dress, which is crazy. Of the two of them, Chrissy knows she's definitely the one considered popular. But Robin Buckley? She looks cool in a way Chrissy knows she'll never be. In comparison, Chrissy feels like a child dressed for church, not a teen hanging out in the mall. Pretty, maybe, but not cool.

But Robin with her smudged eyeliner, rolled jeans and shoes she's written all over, is pretty and cool.

Chrissy can absolutely see why Steve Harrington would be interested in spending time with her, outside of work, looking like this. 

"Okay, you're done with those," Steve says, taking the cones from both of their hands, dropping them in the trash can, and they don't even have the time to argue, it's too abrupt and weird. 

But Steve wheels his arm around, motioning for them to hurry up, and they both get up and follow, like this is a normal thing to do. 

"We found this right after we started working here," Robin says, as Steve leads them up to a door off of the blank, white hallway.

"Follow me in with confidence, like you belong," Steve insists, and then he's gone, through the door, and they all follow. 

And it leads into the movie theater hallway. They're right inside, having bypassed the ticket booth. Holy shit. She's never done anything like this in her whole life, and it's a little bit thrilling. Sneaking around. She giggles, and Steve leads them to the right theater and they find an empty row.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Harrington," Eddie says, leaning over to talk to him over both her and Robin, like this is the weirdest double date in the world.

Honestly, she thinks if you'd thrown the name of every kid at Hawkins High in a hat, and drew names, she's not sure you could have come up with a weirder grouping than the four of them.

But here they are, and it's been kinda fun, honestly.

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Munson," Steve retorts, and Robin laughs, "We need popcorn. I'll be right back."

And then he's gone, leaving the three of them that will all be seniors next year. She's nervous. Steve, she knows, just by running in the same circles. They both play sports, she's cheered for him since she was a freshman. He doesn't make her uncomfortable at all.

But these two? She's probably never said a word to either of them before tonight, and she's gone to school with Robin Buckley forever.

"So, class of '86," Chrissy says, and then feels embarrassed because that's kind of a dumb thing to say. 

"Yep," Robin answers.

"I don't know, I haven't decided if I'll stop with '86 or keep going. '87? '88? They might be better classes than yours. No reason to rush into this graduation year decision," Eddie says, and they both laugh.

"Most people don't shop around for those, you know?" Robin says. "You get what you get." 

"And you don't throw a fit," Chrissy adds, parroting the saying she's heard her entire childhood. 

There's no time for Eddie to banter back, because the lights dim, as the previews pop onto the screen, and the projectionist tracks it until it is centered. 

Steve comes back just in time, handing her and Robin both containers of popcorn. She says thanks, Robin doesn't. Chrissy tilts hers towards Eddie, and he takes a handful, and they all settle in for a movie she hadn't planned to see, with people she never could have imagined spending the evening with.

But it's fun. Eddie has running commentary, Steve keeps asking Robin stupid questions, getting her all riled up, and when the credits roll, Chrissy's a little sad it's over. 

Walking out of the mall, they all sort of linger for a second before going their separate ways. Robin grabs her bike from the rack, as Steve takes off across the parking lot towards his familiar car. Eddie follows her, and she realizes she isn't scared.

When they get to her car, he just holds her car door open for her, bowing dramatically before running off, hip-checking Steve on his way by, sending Steve off-balance. Chrissy smiles as Steve hollers something she couldn't hear after Eddie, and she keeps grinning as she tracks Eddie all the way to a van parked off by itself.

In the driver's seat of her own car, she follows both of the boys out of the lot. Steve turns on his blinker, and eases out, clearly planning to follow slowly behind Robin on her bike, and Chrissy thinks that's sweet, before Eddie barrels out from behind Steve, music blaring as he's zooming around Steve and Robin, leaving them with a friendly honk and a cloud of smoke.

She can see that they both wave at him, and she smiles to herself. Nobody would ever believe her if she told them who she spent her evening with, and especially not if she told them how much fun it had been.

She turns in the opposite direction, towards home, and takes one last look in the rearview mirror, wanting proof that this wonderfully weird night actually happened.

It did, it really did, and Chrissy smiles as they get smaller and smaller behind her, before disappearing totally into the darkness.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🍨