#here i go again about green shorts steve

[infinite-orangepeel]

eddie munson is happiest with those thighs ^^^ locked around his head in a death grip and no you can’t change my mind <3

[retrobutterflies]

Menace | e.m.

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Telling a guy at a party that you have a boyfriend doesn't seem to deter him. Probably because that guy is your boyfriend and you're too drunk to realize.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Drinking, Major Fluff, Established Relationship, Cute pet names

A/N: Don't ever settle for a relationship if they wouldn't do your night routine for you.

The music was starting to give Steve a headache. Gone were the days of being the keg king and beer pong master, first to have a drink and last to stumble his way home. Now suddenly he was more worried about drunk Robin asking people far too personal questions and even drunker you deciding to play another drinking game because you liked that it had cards in it.

"Please, I'm sincerely begging you, Y/N, just sit down–" you interjected with a whine, staring up at him with heartbroken eyes.

"Steve, the game just started. I didn't even break the circle–" a loud hiccup cut off your slurred protests making Robin let out a squeaking laugh from the seat next to you.

Steve let out a tired sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute before zeroing in on the two of you.

"Well, we're gonna play a new game. It's called sit here while Steve makes a phone call," he said, eyes flickering from yours, wide and disgruntled, to Robin's, half lidded from the joint he had found in her hand, not a clue where she got it from.

"It sounds awful," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking back into the couch.

"Yeah the name sucks," Robin said, picking up an unfinished drink from the side table next to the couch. Steve snatched it from her before she could press it to her lips because it wasn't her drink and she had thrown in her half smoked joint not even thirty seconds before, the rolled blunt floating around in the dark liquid.

"Rob, stop trying to drink everything you see. You're not aquatic," he hissed, harshly dropping the drink on a table out of her reach.

"Well maybe I'm dehydrated, Steve. You gonna let me die of thirst?" she quipped back, eyes blinking slowly revealing red rimmed irises.

"Then I'll get you a water, Robin," he hissed back, eyes narrowing at her. "But first let me make one single phone call, okay? You're not gonna die of thirst in three minutes."

"I might! I feel my cells disintegrating as we speak!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. You turned to look at her, mouth dropping open slight in horror.

"Disintegrating?" you repeated.

"Every moment that passes–POOF. Another mitochondria bites the dust," she confirmed, giving you a sad smile and a shrug.

"No–" Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's terrible," you expressed, lips pouting and looking to Steve with an expression of alarm. "That's so sad."

"The saddest," she nodded again as Steve muttered an incredulous "Oh my god."

"We need to do something, Steve! Her mitochondria!"

"My mitochondria, Steve!" Robin echoed you, tone mocking as she smirked at him. Steve felt his headache growing steadily.

"Fine! Fine! I'll go get you a drink! Just stay on this fucking couch. Got it?" When neither of you protested, eyes flickering back and forth between your faces he added a strict Stay like you would a disobedient dog.

He hurried to find the house phone, knowing his timeframe was limited before the two of you wandered off in opposite directions, giving him another wild good chase to corral you together. It was late and he was tired and he desperately needed to call in some back up.

Punching in the numbers, Steve cast distasteful looks at the not so innocent sounds emanating from the bathroom adjacent from the landline. The phone rang for a while, making him fear no one was going to answer until finally the receiver picked up.

"Munson residence," the chirpy voice of Eddie Munson had Steve releasing a short-lived sigh of relief.

"Eddie, it's Steve," he said, pressing close to the wall to avoid two girls swaying dangerously and stumbling past him with mirroring green faces.

"Stevie! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Eddie seemed to be eating something as his words were slightly muffled.

"I need you to come get your girlfriend." He tried not to sound like he was begging even though that's exactly what he was doing.

There was shuffling on the line before Eddie's voice rang out clear, "She okay?"

Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes. "She's fine just plastered," he thought for a moment before adding with exasperation, "and like obsessed with card games. And really bad at them so she keeps losing and drinking more."

Eddie's charmed laugh sounded over the static of the receiver. Steve wanted to pull his hair out. Of course Eddie found anything you did endearing. You could insult Black Sabbath and he would still look at you like you put the stars in the sky. You had him completely under your enchantment.

"Just make sure she's not taking any," Eddie replied, his smile drenching his tone.

"Taking any what?"

"Card decks. She likes to collect them."

Steve was quiet. Eddie was quiet. Then Eddie laughed again and Steve had to resist banging his head against the wall.

"Eddie. I'm begging you. Please, just, come pick her up," he said through clenched teeth.

It didn't take Eddie long to reach the house party. You had mentioned where you were going earlier that night, commenting that it wasn't too far from where Corroded Coffin was playing and that maybe he could stop by after. He had agreed under the impression that you would probably be home by the time he was finished because it was far later than you were usually out. So he had headed home thinking you were in bed until Steve had called.

And now he was weaving through a legion of drunk high schoolers, on his way to relieve a very stressed sounding Steve from his never-ending babysitter duties. You were sat on a couch, arms crossed as you glared at Steve and Robin endlessly bickering about something. When Steve saw him he called him over.

"I'm taking Robin home. Good luck with that one because she snuck another drink in when I wasn't looking," Steve grumbled, hooking his arm through Robin's as she whined at him.

"What if I don't want to go home," Robin shot at him, eye brows raising.

"I don't care. It's late and I'm tired so we're leaving," he stated, tugging her towards the door.

"You're not the governor of the universe, Steve."

Eddie watched their retreating forms before turning his attention back on you. Your gaze seemed far away as you looked forward, not seeming to have even noticed his presence. He took few steps towards you before sinking into the seat next to you.

"Hey, trouble," he said, reaching out a hand to brush softly against your cheek.

You pulled away like you had been burned and turned to give him a glare. He lost his breath for a moment, confused by the sudden hostility.

"Can you leave me alone?" Your voice was slurred but it didn't conceal the overt bite to your tone. He felt a bubble of hurt grow in his chest, hand dropping to his lap.

"You want me to leave you alone?" he echoed, slightly bewildered. Hours before coming here you were pouting at him for not being able to join, acting as though it would physically hurt you to be away from him for a night. And now, suddenly, you didn't want him here? Were you mad at him for abandoning you?"

"Yeah. I have a boyfriend, so, you can leave," you bit back. He blinked at you, digesting your words, before relaxing. Your glassy eyes gave no indication that you realized it was him. You weren't mad at him, you were mad at the thought of a random guy bothering you at this party. He couldn't conceal his grin.

"Oh, yeah? What's his name?" he asked, playing along as the tension eased from his body. He wanted to reach out and push your hair behind your ear but restrained himself.

"Eddie. Eddie Munson. And he'll beat you up if he finds out you're bothering me," you proclaimed, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you glared at him, or however many versions of him you were seeing with your blurred vision.

"He will, will he?" he felt giddy at your admission.

He had had moments in your year long relationship where he let his insecurity eat away at him. You were beautiful and kind and alluring. You unconsciously had people gravitating towards you and sometimes he worried that one day someone would turn your head and steal you away from him. But seeing you be so cold to someone even attempting to have a conversation with you, bringing him up immediately, had his heart selfishly warming.

"Yeah and he's on his way to come get me. So try your luck with someone else," you concluded, words slightly garbled as you gave him your best glare.

"How many drinks have you had, trouble?" he asked, laughing incredulously. Your steely glare hardened. You unfolded your arms to poke him harshly in the shoulder.

"You don't get to call me that. Only my boyfriend can call me that," you stated, poking him again for good measure. It didn't hurt him but he feigned pain anyway, hand flying to his shoulder as he sunk back like he was shot.

He opened his mouth to respond but suddenly you were clambering your way off the couch, form swaying as the alcohol in your system made your vision spin. Eddie was up next to you in an instant, gripping your elbows to steady you.

"Easy, sugar. Don't want you face planting," he murmured, trying to bit back his laugh. You halfheartedly swatted him away, making him remove his hands from you only to hover them behind you in case you started swaying again.

"I just told you not to touch me. I'll beat you up myself if I have to," you said, giving his shoulder a light shove that had you stumbling instead of it's intended affect. Eddie ghosted his hands behind your back as you righted yourself, eyes dancing over your flushed face and glazed eyes.

You marched away from him, dead set on avoiding him and finding something to do until your actual boyfriend showed up. Eddie followed behind you like a shadow, eyes alight in amusement as he waited for you to finally realize it was him. You were nearly oblivious to your surroundings, bumping into people, stumbling over loose cans littering the floor. He followed behind, one hand floating to press your back lightly when you wobbled and the other pressing bodies away so you could move easier through the crowd.

When you found the front door and burst out into the cool air of the autumn night, you whirled around to give your stalker a piece of your mind only to freeze when you noticed his wiry curls and amused smirk.

"Eddie!" you breathed, voice airy and light as you tumbled towards him, arms flying to wrap around his neck. He let out a boisterous laugh, arms snaking around your midsection as he squeezed you tight, lifting you slightly from the ground.

"Hi, pretty," he breathed, face nuzzling into your neck to leave a few searing kisses. You molded into him, body relaxing and contented sigh seeping through your smiling lips.

"Eddie, what took you so long! There was this annoying creep who wouldn't leave me alone," you whined, breathing in his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes. His chuckle vibrated into your neck making chills run up your spine. You pressed in tighter, addicted to his touch.

"Did you tell him to fuck off?" he asked, playing along, smirk widening as he pulled back, finally allowing himself to brush wild pieces of hair behind your ears.

"Told him I'd fight him," you replied and he gave you a bright grin.

"Good girl," he said, pinching your cheek lightly, before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You preened at the praise, stepping on tip toes to deepen the kiss that was making your head fuzzy. He smoothed both his hands on the sides of your face, thumbs resting on the apples of your cheeks, pecking your lips a few more times for good measure before he was reluctantly pulling back.

"Let's get you home, yeah, trouble?" You nodded, eager to go anywhere with him. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before tugging you in the direction of his truck.

The drive to your house was filled with you animatedly recounting the party to Eddie, who listened with a soft smile on his face. There were moments where your slightly slurred speech and foggy memory made your stories hard to follow but anytime you laughed he did too, your glee contagious and endearing. He had to scold himself to pay attention to the road a few times when he felt his gaze being reeled in like sailor to a siren.

When you arrived at your home, you handed him your bag claiming your keys were somewhere in its depth. He turned the ignition off, the both of you sitting in the car as the heat slowly seeped into the chill of the night. He opened your bag and let out an incredulous laugh. At least three decks of cards were shoved into your small purse, stolen from a fair few disgruntled partygoers who probably wouldn't have suspected you as the thief in the slightest.

"You're a menace, you know that?" he commented, pushing the decks to the side so he could reach for the set of keys glinting at the bottom of the bag. You pouted at him, no clue what he was referring to. He chuckled, leaning over the inner consul to press a sweet kiss to your lips. "A cute one, but a menace."

"C'mon. Let get you inside," he said, unlocking the doors. You were nearly putting all of your weight on him as you headed to the front door of your house, body slung around him like a backpack. He had one arm wrapped around your back, pressing kisses to the top of your head every few steps, your bag looped over his shoulder.

As he fumbled with the lock, keys rattling against the metal of the doorknob, you mumbled something about your family being away when he winced at the noise he was making. And once you were inside, door shut behind you, he flicked on a few switches, lighting up the empty house. He dropped your bag and keys on the small table by the door before turning towards you.

With both arms wrapping around you, he bent slightly, his hands moving to cradle the backs of your thighs.

"Up," he commanded. You jumped, letting him hoist you into his arms as you wrapped yours around his neck, legs hooking his waist.

"'M, tired," you mumbled into his shoulder. His chest vibrated as he chuckled, taking cautious steps up towards the second floor.

"I bet. It's nearly two," he replied and you humphed in response. When he made it to your room, he slowly released his hold on you, letting you slide down until your feet touched the ground. You whined against him, not liking the idea of not being completely wrapped up in him.

"Need to get you ready for bed, sugar," he said, reaching around behind his neck to pry your arms away. You whined again but had little strength to resist him. He nudged you forward until the backs of your legs met your bed, causing you to reluctantly sit down, the mattress dipping slightly.

He crouched down so he could rest his weight on his knees, the carpet of your floor cushioning them. You were blinking slowly down at him like you were fighting against sleep. Hand wrapping around your ankle, he undid the laces and slipped off your sneaker, dropping it to the side. He repeated the action with your other shoe.

"I'm gonna get you something to change into, okay?" he said, pushing up from the floor. He kicked off his own shoes next to yours, pulling off his vest and then his jacket, draping them over your desk chair.

Your room was yards cleaner than his own and starkly different. Remnants of your childhood were woven together with band and movie posters, shelves of books, and colorful post-its and polaroids taped to your mirror. He spotted his face in many of them, heart warming each time he noticed yet another one of him you managed to find room for.

He headed for your dresser, pulling drawers open at random trying to find something for you to sleep in. His cheeks warmed at the drawer of underwear he yanked open, the pretty pastels and swirling lace making him swallow harshly. He wasn't here to be creepy he was here to be a doting boyfriend. He opened a few more until he found one of his shirts he thought he had misplaced. Menace, he thought.

When he turned around you had already begun slipping off your pants, kicking around until they flew off your ankles. He walked over to you as you were pulling your shirt over your head. His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes trailed down the straps of your bra to the curves of your chest, heat rising on the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he chided himself. Now was not the time for that. He heard you undo your bra and kept his gaze on your sleepy eyes as he handed you the black T-shirt. You slipped it on without protest.

"Alright, now to the bathroom," he said, patting the side of your bare thigh.

"But I'm tired," you groaned, wrinkling your nose at the idea of exerting more energy.

"I know, trouble, but you still have your makeup on," he said, leaning over to take your hand in his. He held his other one out and you reluctantly grabbed it, letting him pull you up. He maneuvered the both of you into the bathroom. You wobbled against him, eyes squinting shut at the harshness of the overhead light. He let go of your hands to slide them to the sides of your ribcage. Then he lifted you so you were sat on the counter besides the sink.

“Okay, sleepyhead, I need you to direct me through your night routine,” he said, rubbing his hand on the side of your neck. You looked at him through bleary eyes before looking down at the counter. An assortment of bottles and serums and tubs of cream littered the expanse of the white laminate. You blinked heavily before pointing at one.

“That’s makeup remover,” you said as a yawn over took you. He picked it up, unscrewing the top and then staring blankly at you.

“Do I . . . use my hand?” he asked innocently. You giggled softly, leaning back to rest against the wall.

“No, silly. A cotton pad,” you replied, waving your hand in the direction of the cabinet. He found them, dropping a few as he struggled with the zip lock, before pulling one out. He tipped the clear liquid from the bottle, soaking the cotton pad before turning back to you.

“Eyes shut,” he ordered, stepping closer so your legs parted for his thighs. You followed his instructions, eyes fluttering shut as he brought the pad to your face.

Eddie was nothing if not gently when it came to you. The damp cotton brushed softly over your eyelids, over your eyebrows, down your temples, trailing your jaw, over your lips, and in circles on your cheeks. He could tell you were dozing, needing to move his other hand to frame your jaw so your head wouldn’t lull to the side.

Dropping the dirtied cotton pad in the trash, he grabbed a hand towel and soaked it under the tap. It was warm when he brought it to your face, the stitched loops of the towel swirling around as he wet the skin. Dropping it down, he scanned the array of bottles until he found one clearly labelled face wash. He squeezed probably too much onto his palms before moving to massage it around your face. The gel foaming as he circulated his fingers, tender movements nearly putting you to sleep. Your eyes blinked open, finding his focused on his movements, tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration. A balloon of affection blossomed in your chest.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” you mumbled, blinking slowly at him like cat. His movements slowed as heat rushed to his cheeks at your words.

“Well you’re my favorite person in the whole universe,” he said back, moving to rinse the face wash from his hands. He re-wet the small towel and moved to wipe your face down. You pouted at him.

“That’s not fair. I can’t go any bigger than the universe,” you grumbled, unhappy that he outdid you so quickly. He let out an endeared laugh, hand moving to cup the back of your neck as he wiped the foam from your face.

“I don’t play fair, baby. Not when it comes to professing my undying love to you,” he said making you wrinkle your nose. He leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“I missed you tonight,” you confessed as he finished cleaning your face. He rinsed the towel in the sink before turning to look at you. Your head was resting against the wall, eyes half lidded in fatigue but glinting prettily under your lashes. He felt his chest tighten at the sight, his breath stalling for a moment at your effortless beauty.

“I always miss you when you’re not around,” you added. He moved to face you, chest coiling in unbridled affection, hands moving to cage your face in. He swiped his thumbs under your eyes, the soft skin glittering from the water.

“Wish I could be with you 24/7 but I don’t want you to get sick of me,” you continued, eyes fluttering up at him. He thought you might really kill him.

“Not even in an alternate dimension could I get sick of you. Not even in a hypothetical scenario. Not even if my life depended on it,” he replied, moving closer until your noses were almost touching. Your hands snaked around his torso, tugging him closer, bunching up the back of his shirt.

“If you’ll have me I’ll probably be up your ass until the end of time,” he added, making a peel of giggles erupt from you. His eyes squinted as he smiled, leaning in to press his lips to yours, your giggles dissolving into his affection.

“Now, no more being cute until we’re done with this,” he said after pressing yet another kiss to your lips. Your swollen lips chased his to steel another, then another before he was squeezing your sides, making you squirm and laugh as he pulled away.

You leaned back against the wall, eyes drooping as he continued, grabbing your moisturizer and spinning open the cap. He repeated his gentle motions over your face, swiping softly around your eyes and smoothing any tension from your face.

“Brush,” you blinked your eyes open noticing him holding out your toothbrush, toothpaste already sitting on the bristles. Your movements were sluggish but you managed, leaning over to spit in the sink before he was handing you a cup of water to rinse.

You were both quiet for a moment. He watched as you leaned your head back, eyes shut. His hands trailed the sides of your thighs, brushing the skin, squeezing slightly, warming them and making goosebumps appear. His eyes danced around your face, taking in your peaceful features. You were breathtaking even when on the edge of sleep. He was completely enamored with you. He never thought someone could have him so enchanted that he would be taking their makeup off before bed and making sure they brushed their teeth but you had sent him one dazzling smile and he was lost in a sea of desire to take care of you for as long as he lived.

“Alright, ready for bed?” he asked, affectionately brushing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs. You nodded, slumping forward to wrap your arms around his neck. He tugged you forward, hands slinking under your thighs to pull you up into his arms.

He laid you gently on your bed, pulling the covers down so you could slip your legs in until he was moving the duvet up over you. He wandered back over to your dresser, digging back into the bottom drawer where he knew a treasure trove of his clothes was hidden, never to be seen in his closet again. He slipped off his pants and then shirt, pulling on an old Van Halen T-shirt, the ratty edges brushing against the waistline of his boxers. 

"You're staying, right?" your sleepy voice rang out from the bed. He kicked his pile of clothes to the side, knowing you were going to chide him for it tomorrow.

"Wouldn't dream of leaving," he answered, pulling off his rings, the silver clanking as he dropped them on your desk. 

He hurried to shut the lights off before he was crawling in beside you, finding your sleepy body in the dark and pulling you into him. You let out a contented sigh, warm breath tickling his neck, making him pull you in even tighter.

He wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky. Nothing seemed to compare to finally being in your arms, breathing in the smell of your perfume and feeling the smoothness of your skin. His lips traced your hairline, leaving soft honeyed kisses around your forehead and down over your eyelids. You smiled into the darkness, tilting your face up in a silent beg for more. He kissed your nose, his eyelashes dusting the tops of your cheeks.

"Love you," you whispered, melting against him and his warm lips. You felt him smile against your cheek.

"Love you more," he whispered back, a kiss following his admiration.

“Love you times a million,” you added, hoping finally to win a battle of affection.

“Love you times infinity,” he replied. You let out a whine at him one-upping you yet again but he just chuckled in fondness, teeth nipping at the plumpness of your cheek until he was seeking out your lips again, to press a dozen more kisses until you inevitably fell under the spell of sleep, dreaming about him and his big brown eyes and warm kisses and how very very lucky you were.

Link to my masterlist :)

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V // REQUEST -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[mrsrdlw]

Insecurities…

warnings: problems with body image; angst; caring!boyfriend!eddie (the sweetest guy in the world); fluff; he makes sure you understand that he doesn’t care how your body looks, you’ll always be the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

that’s a bit short i know. but i had this draft for a while and i wanted to post it. i just love the idea of eddie comforting the reader. at least i genuinely think that he would always try his best to make you feel better if you’re not or make you laugh when you need to. HE IS THE BEST!!!

******

“Sweetheart, are you still doing you makeup thing? Because if you’re ready, we have to leave.” He knocked on the door hoping he was not using a tone that seemed like he was rushing you. He knew better. You were in your house, getting ready to go to one of the famous Steve Harrington’s parties.

You were in your room for hours, at least that’s how Eddie felt. He wasn’t the most patient person ever, but you were taking too long. Longer then you normally take. Little Eddie knew that you were sobbing in front of the mirror for 20 minutes by now. You tried your hardest not to cry. That seemed only to make things worse. Now you were miserable, mascara all over your cheeks, red eyes and nose, freaking out. Fuck! What were you supposed to do. You forgot that you also had to deal with your boyfriend. So you cleared your throat, trying to sound chill so he could just give you a minute.

“Hey Ed, just give me a minute ‘kay? i’m almost done-“ You were cleaning your face when he cut you, opening the door to your room. “Eddie!”

“What happened?” How did he knew? you thought to yourself. Like he read your mind, he answered “i heard your crying voice. Do you need something, baby?”

“No sweetie, i just-“ You looked at you reflection in the mirror again. He gave this dress to you as a valentine’s present. According to him, he wanted to see you even more hot. The dress was extremely pretty. It was a dark green dress, tight on the waist. But for some stupid reason, you thought you looked… not extremely pretty in it. “Do you think i look too fat in this?”

“Babe, why would you even say that?” He looked concerned when your eyes locked with his and the tears started to stream down again. “No no no, i’m so sorry i said that. I meant like, you’re not fat, not at all.”

He opened his arms welcoming you to a tight hug. He knew that sometimes you would compare yourself to models and singers you liked. Or even the Hawkins High Cheerleaders. And they were all very skinny. Eddie was pretty sure that some girls of the last group didn’t even eat right. But he could not stand that you couldn’t see yourself the way he did. To him, of course you were so much more than your body, but if he was talking body, you were the whole package. Always kind to the ones you loved, funny, making him laugh so much sometimes, he would have to pee, AND your sexy smokin’ hot body.

“You know me angel, i would never care only with your body. I’m not dating you because of your body” He separated from your hug to wipe your tears and placed his hand on your cheek. “I love you, this person inside here” he placed the other hand right up your heart. “And really, I, Edward Munson, think you are perfect, inside and outside. And i know i can’t make you just forget about this angst your feeling right now, but i need you to know that. That you are beautiful. And still, you have so much more. Honestly lady, i could keep going for hours.” seeing you smile at him, made him feel a bit better. He hated seeing you sad about this shit.

“Can i kiss you?” He asked. You were sensitive and he didn’t want to push things

“Of course you can.”

You always loved the way he made you feel safe. His arms around you and his soft lips pressing into yours, kissing you so tenderly. It almost felt like you were never sad.

“I’m sorry-“ You whispered, still close to his lips, caressing his chest but he kissed you again.

“Don’t say sorry for feeling things. I just hope you’re feeling better. If you don’t want to go to the party anymore that’s totally fine too!”

“No! I want to go. Just give a minute to fix this mess” You pointed to your face and started to clean it with a tissue. He was smiling at you now, sitting on your bed, he whispered to himself “That’s my girl”.

In 5 minutes you were ready. Eddie was a little scared by the way you made it look like you never cried.

“I’m better now, thanks Eddie. What would i do without you?” You took his hand in yours, ready to leave the room.

“Oh please baby, that’s what you deserve. I only work with princess treatment here. Now turn around, let me see you.” Giggling a bit, you did as he said “Yeah, we’re good to go, my love. After you” He gave you the space to leave the room first, extending his arm dramatically.

“I love you so much!” It was the only thing you could say now.

“And i love you more!”

*****

•for the one who would like to send me a story request, please do! my inbox is open! so feel free to send me your ideas to stories or headcannons there. :)

[luveline]

I’m begging for more Golden Retriever Girlfriend with either Steve or Eddie- scraped knees? Doesn’t even notice, just too excited to tell their boyfriend about the butterfly they saw on their way over to see them…

I chose Eddie again cos I like him ♡ gn!reader | 1k words

The walk to Eddie's house is long but not boring. The trailer homes are dispersed over long stretches of green grass, so sometimes you see bugs. Mostly caterpillars, sometimes spiders, snails and slugs, ants, crickets if you're quiet enough. 

Today, two butterflies. They swing through the air beautifully as if orbiting the other, pure white with wings as unremarkable and delicate as tulip petals. 

They're distracting. You follow them for a short while until they fly too far to see and hurry the rest of the way to Eddie's home, rushing on toes up the steps into his trailer. 

"Eddie?" you ask into the empty living room. 

The bathroom door opens but he doesn't emerge. "In here." 

You stride over and peer inside. He's spitting toothpaste foam down the sink, his hair in a tie, his eyes still droopy with fatigue. 

"You get up way too early, you know that? I don't know how you can already have walked here when I got up five minutes ago."

"The weather's great," you say easily, pushing into the small bathroom though you shouldn't to wipe sleep from the corners of his eyes. 

He bats your hand away. "Stop." 

You stop and frown for the five seconds that you feel scolded until he grabs your fingers to give you a quick reassuring squeeze.

He drops your hand in favour of washing his face, cupping hot water in his hands to scrub at his nose roughly. You ramble mildly about the journey here.

"They were dancing, Eddie. I've never seen anything like it. They were really pretty..." you detail, distracted by his face, his lashes heavy with wetness.

He dries off with a towel. You reach around to the back of his head to pull his hair tie free and he sets his hands over your waist, a casual proximity as you run your hands through his curls. You're careful. You know how prone to tangles he is. 

"I can feel you looking at my face," you say, trying not to breathe too heavily. 

"Sure am, sweetheart." 

You feel as radiant as a marigold under his appreciative gaze. "There. Perfect again," you mumble.

"Thanks."

You nod and move out of his reach, back into the cooler space of his living room. You do a little spin as you go, an unbearable amount of happiness in your chest as you pose in front of the couch, one hand at your hip and the other pointing at your still-tired boyfriend where he follows you. 

"We have the whole day! What are we gonna do first?" you ask. 

"Baby, what the fuck have you done?" 

The smile slips off your face. He sounds mad enough to startle you and you drop your hands. "What?" you ask weakly. 

His eyes flit from your face to your knees and he gestures to them. He looks wide awake. "You're bleeding. Sit down." When you don't move he takes your shoulders into stern hands and guides you backward. "Sit down! Jesus, sit." 

You drop onto the couch and look down at your knees, surprised to see them all bloody and scratched. When you'd slipped on leaf litter walking down the main road into the park you'd assumed everything was fine despite the stinging pain, and by the time you'd seen the butterflies you'd forgotten altogether. 

"When did you do that?" he asks. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I forgot," you say, eyes blinking owlishly at his fierce expression. 

Eddie spins on his heel to dig through a kitchen cabinet for his first aid kit, popping it open by the sink. "Piece of shit kit," he mutters, piling foil wrapped bandages into his hand. 

He looks less formidable as he kneels on the floor between your knees, thumb probing the edge of your grazes one then the other, very gentle.

"You didn't tell me what happened," he says quietly, eyes on your knees as he sprays a small bottle of disinfectant over your knees with no warning and you flinch. 

"Shit, I'm sorry," he says. 

You blink back tears. "Stings," you say, giggling wetly.

He wipes your grazes with precise, almost calculated movements. One hurts worse than the other. "Sorry," he says again as he drops the bloodied wipes to the floor and rips a sterile packing open with his teeth – which is all types of wrong – and unrolls a length of white bandages. 

"Hold the gauze, honey," he says. 

You move your hands as he instructs, wondering if he's ever called you honey before. You're still deciding by the time he finishes, his hands in twin position just below your knees. 

You brush your bandages together and smile. "They're white. Like the butterflies." 

"Is that why you fell? Watching the butterflies?" he asks, sounding curious. 

You laugh and weave your fingers into the soft hair at the back of his neck, dropping your face down. "I'm not that stupid. It was all the fallen leaves by the turning." 

He smiles and clasps your wrists. "You're not stupid at all."

He doesn't give you time to argue as he stands and cleans the small mess he'd made fixing your bloody knees. You stand too, always trying to follow him despite limited places to go. Eddie's more than used to it by now. 

"For future reference," he says, a certain roughness to his tone. "Don't wait ten minutes to tell me the next time you split your knees." 

"Sorry." 

He throws an arm over your shoulder and tugs you into his side, giving you a good shake. "Stop. I'm serious, stop. Be sorry about how you've been here twenty minutes and haven't asked for a kiss yet." 

"I wanted to, but you got all scary about my legs!" 

"I can be scarier." 

"No you can't."

"No, I can't." 

You share what feels like an especially private smile despite being on your own and drop your head into his shoulder. He rests his cheek atop your crown.  

"You had blood down to your ankle," he murmurs. "You scared me." 

"Can I have a kiss now?" you ask. 

"You'll have to let me think about it," he bluffs, already leaning in. 

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Ao3

A/N: Part Two is here! Robin is finally coming in and giving us some new perspectives and answers, Steve accepts some things about himself, and Robin wants to invoke her best friend rights to protect Steve. Hope you enjoy!

Tw: internalized biphobia, implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced suicidal thoughts

———

Robin grunts, hopping off her bike and ripping the helmet off her head. Three cars almost hit her today. Three! She groans.

“Stupid fucking bike—“ she kicks the back wheel, making it fall against the brick exterior wall of Family Video. She had to ride it to work today because someone—ahem, Steve—has decided to adopt half of the rising sophomore class, which means he’s off today since his favorite little nerd is off to Utah for the weekend. So now, she’s late for her shift and all gross and sweaty. Great.

Robin tucks her helmet under her arm, raking a hand through her hair in a weak attempt to fix it, and begins the short walk to the front doors when something catches her eye.

A burgundy BMW. Correction, Steve’s burgundy BMW.

She slows her steps and walks up to it, cautious as if it’ll attack her, and peeks inside. There’s nothing out of the ordinary save for a green duffle bag and an old beaten up shoebox. She frowns and looks towards the front doors as if the transparent surface will answer all of her questions.

She walks inside to find Steve. Steve, who is propped up on the counter with his eyes closed, head dipping down, and at work. The place he is decidedly not supposed to be right now.

“Dingus!” She shouts and slaps her hand on the counter, startling Steve awake. He reaches behind him, frowns when his hand comes up empty, and looks around with hazy eyes. There’s a distance behind those irises that she’s never seen before, like he’s not all there. As if he doesn’t know where he is.

Robin wasn’t concerned, but now she is.

“Steve?”

He finally looks up at her, sitting up straighter as if he didn’t know she was there, and puts on a smile she obviously knows is fake.

“Oh, hey, Robs,” he greets, his voice perfectly exemplifying that of model customer service personnel. Robin scrunches up her eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, shifting her weight and putting her hands on her hips. She stares at Steve expectantly, waiting for an explanation. He only blinks at her.

“Uh… working? I have a shift today, Robs, why wouldn’t I be here?” He answers, eyebrows furrowing and head tilting slightly. Robin has a fleeting thought that he looks like a confused puppy, then she realizes that’s not too far off. She meets his confused gaze with one of her own.

“Dustin leaves for his trip to Utah today, Steve. In like,“—she checks the clock behind him—“an hour. Shouldn’t you be there to, ya know, say goodbye and all that?”

She waits for realization to dawn on his face, for that wrinkle between his brows to disappear and panic to settle in. It doesn’t. If anything, he looks even more confused now.

“… What trip to Utah?” He asks hesitantly, like he doesn’t know. Does… does he not know?

“Are you messing with me right now? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, this isn’t funny,” she huffs a nervous laugh. He shakes his head.

Shit.

Steve, she realizes, hasn’t talked about the kids in… a while. A week at least. But he would have told her, right? He would have mentioned something, would have asked her what’s going on.

But then again… would he?

“Fuck,” she curses, and briskly walks over to the front door. She locks it, flips the sign to ‘Closed!’, and ignores Steve’s petulant protest of “Robbie, c’mon.” She drags Steve out from behind the counter and pulls him in an aisle of tapes before crossing her arms over her chest.

“The movie nights… Those weren’t migraine days, were they?” She asks, already half expecting the head shake she gets in response but it hurts all the same.

See, Steve gets debilitating migraines sometimes, so bad he stays in bed for days at a time. She had bought him blackout curtains a few months ago after he said the dark helped his head, and ever since then he’s taken it upon himself to get through them alone. She would ask if he needed help, tell him to call her so she could come over, but he never did. She just assumed that he didn’t show up because he couldn’t, not… whatever this is.

Robin grabs him by the shoulders, thumbs rubbing over his collarbones as she looks in his eyes.

“What happened?”

Steve sighs, face falling as he looks to the floor.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. His hand finds the hair tie on his wrist and he starts fiddling with it, snapping it against his skin and twisting it around his fingers. It makes Robin's heart clench. She shakes his shoulders to get him to look at her, and doesn't speak until he does.

“Steve, tell me what happened,” she insists, looking into his sad brown eyes that droop with the weight of her request. His shoulders rise beneath her hands as he takes in a deep breath. Then, he speaks.

“They haven’t talked to me in three weeks, Rob,” he confesses, eyes trained just over her shoulder to avoid eye contact. She knows he means the kids, and that makes this so, so much worse.

“Steve—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupts. His face slowly forms a small, wavering smile as he finally looks at her. “It means they’re growing up, expanding their horizons. Finding… finding better people to be around.”

Her stomach drops.

“Steve, what… what do you mean by that?” Her voice is shaky, filled with fear and the horrible dawning of what he's implying. Steve huffs and turns to look in the direction of the front windows, eyes distant.

“It’s good that they’re not talking to me. Why… Why should they?” He looks back at her, determination shining in his eyes. Robin realizes, with frightening clarity, that he’s confident in it. That he believes it. She swallows the forming lump in her throat.

“What do I do for them other than free rides or snacks? Nothing,” he laughs, a wet, hollow thing devoid of its usual happiness. “They haven’t asked me for anything in three weeks, Rob. Not once. Every time I ask they shut me down or… or tell me Eddie already offered. It’s… fuck, it hurts so bad but what else can I do but respect their decision to leave me?”

He rubs a hand harshly over his face, his skin turning pink from the pressure and force, before pushing his hair back. He looks away, murmuring, “it’s for the best, anyway” that Robin is sure she’s not supposed to hear but does anyhow.

She pushes him back, holding him out at arms length and ignoring the look she gets in return, and looks him up and down. His normally crisp polo is rumpled under his work vest and half tucked in his jeans. Dirt stains the once-white laces of his Nikes, and mud is caked on the side of his soles. His hands tremble at his sides before clenching into fists, as if trying to stop the shaking, before resigning to tap an unsteady rhythm against his thighs.

She looks up at his face, notices the tenseness in his jaw as it stays sealed shut. How his hair lays flat and greasy on his head as if he spends his days running his fingers through it. His eyes flicker around, as if unable to stay in one spot for too long. As if they’re looking for something. Watching. Waiting.

Most importantly, she notices a sadness in his eyes she’s never seen before. Not when he would talk about Nancy or his parents or his past. It shows in the lifelessness that’s found its way behind his pupils, in the flatness of his gaze. It shows in the deep bags under his eyes and the crease between his brows. That earlier thought about how he resembles a puppy returns, however instead of a confused puppy, it’s one that’s been kicked too many times to count and just wants someone to rub its little head.

It’s those sad eyes that make her realize that he’s used to this, to people leaving. All those times they spent together, curled against each other in the comfort of his big plush mattress after Starcourt and whispering secrets into the night, come back to her.

How he told her his parents left him with nannies and babysitters when they would go on trips until he was ten and his father decided he was old enough to fend for himself in their absence. How he had to call the police just so someone would tell him how to work the stove. How they missed his first birthday at thirteen, then Thanksgiving the following year, then his sixteenth birthday—which they tried making up for by buying him a car—then both Thanksgiving and Christmas the next year until it was a surprise they showed up for anything at all. How they missed his high school graduation.

How he cried through telling her he handed his heart to Nancy, giving her everything he could to make her happy, only for it to be left bleeding on the bathroom floor. How she cheated on him with Jonathan without giving an explanation for why or when or how, only a silent understanding of ‘yeah, I’m with him now. We’re over’ during the end of the world. How she never even said sorry.

It was one instance, when Robin woke up to Steve thrashing in his checkered sheets as his throat screamed out into the darkness of his room, that she’ll always remember. She had to sit on his chest to keep him from moving and accidentally hurting himself in the process. She did her best to stay clear of any still-sore wounds while holding his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks as she waited for him to calm down.

Eventually, those tired eyes opened, glistening with tears yet to be shed and Robin’s heart ached for him. She did her best to smile, to bring some comfort to his panicked mind.

“Hey, dingus, it’s me,” she soothed. “It’s Robin.”

“... Robin?” He muttered, voice fragile and raw from screaming. She nodded, even if he couldn’t quite see her yet.

“Yeah, that’s me. We’re in your room right now, in your bed,” she informed, and Robin could see the shame rising to his face in real time. “You had a nightmare.”

“Fuck, Robs, I’m so sorry,” Steve apologized, moving to try and get up but she shook her head, refusing to budge even an inch. Despite him being twice her size and having the ability to easily move her if needed, he relented and went slack underneath her, almost completely boneless save for the ever-present tenseness that never quite goes away.

“None of that, Steve,” she admonished. “Nightmares are normal, especially for us. You wanna tell me what happened?”

Steve looked away and shook his head. Robin nodded, accepting his refusal, and climbed off to flop down beside him, bouncing a little on the expensive mattress. She propped her head up on her hand, looking down at him as he fiddled with the edge of the sheet. Robin quickly learned that his fiddling meant he had something on his mind, so she nudged him and gave him an expectant look. He stayed quiet, and just when she thought he wasn’t going to speak, he did.

“You know, sometimes I think the world would be better off without me,” he murmured, and Robin looked at him absolutely horrified.

“Steve, you can’t actually believe that—“

“No, Robbie,” he interrupted and paused to shake his head as tears filled his eyes. “I do, ‘cause what am I good for other than nice eye candy for the elderly ladies at the local grocery store and a stand-up athlete for asshole dads to compare their sons to?”

Steve shook his head and clenched his eyes closed.

“No one stays. No one. It’s just been me for eighteen years and I… I’m sick of it, Robin. I’m just… I’m so tired.”

When he looked at her again, she could see it. That tiredness was etched onto his face, found in the creases around his eyes, the tenseness of his mouth, and the deep purple bags beneath his brown irises.

“I know,” Robin reassured, even though she didn’t. Not really. “We’ll get through it, okay?”

“‘We’?” Steve questioned, and Robin gave him a smile.

“Yeah, ‘we’. You’re never getting rid of me, dingus,” she claimed. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Oh no,” he said sarcastically, giving her a small grin that let her know he was grateful, either for the change in subject or the fact that Robin was there for him. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Guess we’ll have to find out, hm?” It was a silent question, one asking him, ‘will you stay around long enough to find out? Will I be enough for you until you do?’

Steve smiled and pulled her down to rest on his chest, both of their arms finding their way to wrap around each other.

“Guess we will,” he whispered into her hair, and it sounded a lot like, ‘for you, I will. For you, always.’

She never forgot that conversation, and the sad way his voice quivered has plagued her mind ever since then.

Now, the kids are joining the devastatingly long list of people that have left. The kids who he has quite literally sacrificed himself for time and time again. The kids he has given countless rides to, given his time and money and sanity to just to make them happy. The kids he cares for with his whole being. The kids he loves.

That lump returns, causing pressure to form behind her eyes as she looks at her best friend. Her platonic with a capital P soulmate. The only man she’ll ever love. Tears well in her eyes, clouding her vision and making her face contort. She’s always been an ugly crier but she thinks this is justified.

“Robs? What’s wr—”

She cuts him off by wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him into a harsh hug. She knows he doesn’t like sudden touch—as proven by him stiffening under her—but she gives herself a pass on this one.

“Robin?”

She buries her face in his chest, silently crying for him, and only begins to calm down once hesitant arms wrap around her.

“Shh… Robbie, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He promises, and his earnest tone makes her almost cry harder because yeah, he’s there for her, but who is there for him?

She sniffs and pulls away, hands coming up to wipe away her snot and tears, and hopes he doesn’t mind the wet patch on the front of his shirt. Steve’s hands drop down to her waist, squeezing and rubbing her hips with his thumbs, as her hands raise to hold his face between them.

“We’re going to fix this, Steve. You don’t deserve all this—this shit that’s been thrown at you,” she vows, squeezing his cheeks to emphasize her point.

“It’s… It’s fine, Robs. You don’t have to do anything, it’s okay,” he tries to protest but it only furthers her determination. She shakes his head in her hands.

“If I have to throttle your head to make you realize that I love you then I will do it, dingus,” she promises, shaking his head again to prove her point. “Screw all your concussions.” She smiles at him, something small and filled with love for the man before him.

Steve breaks.

His face contorts much like Robins had earlier; eyebrows scrunched together, eyes clenched shut, nose wrinkling, and mouth a flat, wavering line. Ugly, heart-wrenching sobs claw their way out his throat, echoing off the metal shelves that surround them, and she knows that this was a long time coming. All of his sadness, his sorrow, is coming out through the tears that drip down his cheeks and onto the filthy carpet, the snot clogging his nose, and the small, breathy whimpers that pass through his lips.

His head drops to her shoulder, making his back arch forward in a way that cannot possibly be comfortable but he doesn’t seem to mind. She wraps her arms over his shoulders and his hands tighten their grip on her waist before resolving to squeezing her middle. Robin lets him cry it out, knowing firsthand that sometimes it’s all you need. Soon, his breaths get choppy and sporadic, so she begins rubbing her hands up and down his back in long, slow strokes in an attempt to ease the panic.

“Match your breathing to my hands, okay? Up for in and down for out,” she instructs, demonstrating by moving her hands up and down while breathing in with her movements.

“I-I don’t—“ his voice breaks.

“Yes, you can. C’mon, let's give it a try. Ready? In—" she moves her hands up. Steve struggles through a breath, only getting halfway before a sob rips through his throat and he’s forced to exhale.

“That’s good! Try again for me, babe, you can do it. Take it slow. Now, in—“ she rubs her hands up again and, this time, he follows through. “Good, good. Now out—“ her hands drop slowly down his back as he breathes out, shaky but it’s there.

“You got it! Let’s keep doing that, okay? Just focus on my hands, there you go,” she instructs, keeping her hands at a steady, calm pace. Steve does his best to follow, getting off track when a harsh sob cuts off his breathing, but he quickly calms down. He sniffs and pulls away, a mirror image of what she did just a few minutes earlier, and gives her a small but genuine smile.

“Thanks, Robin. I’m sorry you had to see that—“ Steve tries to apologize but Robin firmly shakes her head.

“Nope! None of that crap, okay? You’re allowed to cry, Steve, especially over something like this,” she insists. Steve wipes his face and, in all honesty, he looks like shit. But it's marginally better than what he looked like before so she’ll take it.

“Now, what kind of pizza do you want?”

“Wh… what?” Steve asks, confused. Robin rolls her eyes.

“Pizza! What kind of pizza do you want, Steve?”

“Robs, it’s like nine in the morning—“

“Not for right now, dingus!” She exclaims. Honestly, this guy. “For our movie night tonight!”

“But we didn’t have one set up for tonight… Right?”

“No, but I’m initiating one! We need some decompress time and a longer conversation than the one we just had about all this,” she informs. Steve rolls his eyes and smiles.

“You don’t have to, Robbie, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do—“

“Nothing is more important to me right now than comforting my best friend, Steve,” she insists, leaving no room for question. Steve holds his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, okay, just making sure,” he defends. A small smile graces his face. “And uh… can we get pepperoni?”

Robin softens and pats his cheeks.

“Absolutely.”

The rest of the shift was spent in comfortable silence. Steve seemed to be in a very non-talkative mood and she respected that. He mostly spaced out, staring out the front windows or at a random spot on the wall while mindlessly fidgeting with something. Robin took one for the team and helped all the customers, giving him some much needed space. After that morning, it felt cruel to subject him to customer service.

When their long, boring shift was over, Steve insisted she put her bike in his trunk. When she tried to protest that she could just bike over there, he rolled his eyes and gave her the bitchiest look possible.

“Robin, I love you, but I’m not waiting for half an hour while you and your giraffe legs hit every pothole on the way over to my house when I could just drive you.”

Needless to say that after ten minutes of two fully grown adults struggling to get her bike in the trunk after a long shift at work, they were exhausted. Well, Steve was exhausted since he did most of the grunt work while she complained about how long it was taking but it was a team effort, she thinks.

They pull into his drive, the house lit up on the inside from nearly every room despite it being empty. Robin knows it’s because he hates the dark, hates the feeling of being alone. She doesn’t comment on it. Never has.

She rushes to the phone once they get inside, dialing the pizza place from memory and recites their order. She hears Steve huff from the living room followed by a soft thump, presumably him flopping on the couch. Hanging up the phone, she shrugs off her shoes and work vest before standing next to him and bouncing on her feet.

“Can I help you?” He looks up at her expectantly, tired eyes finding hers but looking infinitely more at peace. She grins.

“Let’s make a pillow fort!” She exclaims, grabbing his hand and tugging him off the couch. Steve groans.

“C’mon, Robs, that’s totally not necessary,” he complains despite having a smile on his face. She tugs harder, pulling him towards the hall closet where the spare sheets and pillows are stored, and ignores him. Throwing open the door with her free hand, she turns to face him.

“Suck it up and help me carry these, dingus.”

She throws a stack of sheets at his face, snickering when they mess up his hair, and grabs a few pillows. Haul successful, she heads back to the living room, Steve giving her an over dramatic eye roll for the trouble.

“We can just sit on the couch, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She questions before gesturing to the coffee table. “Now move that out of the way so we can get this thing started!”

Steve grumbles but does as he’s told. After a few minutes, they have a completed pillow fort. It’s a little wonky, just big enough for two people if they scrunch together, but it’s perfect. It’s angled directly at the TV, the seats of the chairs holding up the roof acting as personal trays for their drinks.

As soon as the last pillow is in place, the doorbell rings. Before Steve can move, Robin jumps up, rushing over to her vest and grabbing a ten out of the inside pocket. She ignores Steve's protests and opens the door, all but throwing the money at the delivery guy before grabbing the pizza and telling him to keep the change. Pizza acquired, she bounds back to the fort and flops down, placing the warm box between the two of them. In her absence, Steve has keyed up Pretty in Pink, their go-to feel-better movie.

Over the course of the movie, they eat their pizza while critiquing the characters and relationships, plot holes and bad acting, and make up their own responses to dialogue until both of them can barely breathe through their laughter. Steve returns to himself a little bit, somewhere around the first hour mark, and Robin feels accomplished that she got some of her friend back.

Once the movie is over and the pizza is gone, they lay in the dark under the protection of the fort. The blue screen from the TV reflects off the white sheets, turning their skin pale and glowing. Steve is on his back, one arm behind his head and the other resting lazily on his stomach. He looks soft, face lax and eyes a little droopy as if he’s already half asleep. Robin turns on her side to face him, one hand propping her head up while the other raises to carefully pick up Steve’s. He turns his head to look at her, and she knows he knows it’s time to talk. Really talk.

A beat of silence, then, “Why didn’t you tell me, Steve?”

He sighs and she can feel the movement under their joined hands on his stomach. He’s silent for a moment, and Robin watches as hesitation clouds his eyes.

“I thought it wasn’t important enough for you to know,” he murmurs. He’s not looking at her, instead focusing on running his fingers along hers. She stays quiet.

“I… I thought I deserved it, still do. There’s just so many feelings in here,“ he pauses to tap his heart with a sad smile, “and I don’t know what to do with them.”

“So tell me about them. What’s the biggest one right now?” Steve huffs.

“It… it sounds stupid but there's this intense misery all up here,” he gestures to his head, "paired right up there with this bitter… resentment,” a dry laugh falls from his lips and he shakes his head. “God, that sounds pathetic.”

Robin pinches his arm and diligently ignores his offended “ow!”.

“You’re not pathetic, dingus,” she corrects. She taps his heart. “Tell me about them.”

Steve sighs, eyes closing. He takes a deep breath.

“I… I have this—this sadness that just doesn’t go away. It’s like… like it knows when I’m happy and just sucks it all up.”

Robin nods and holds his hand, squeezes it to provide some comfort for him. She knows this isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. She hesitates on the next question.

“…How long have you felt like this?” Steve chews on his lip for a moment.

“As long as I can remember.”

Fuck.

Distantly, memories from a time after the Mall come flooding back.

‘Yeah,’ she thinks, remembering what he confessed that night. ‘Fuck indeed.’

“Even when I’m with people I love, it’s always there. It’s…” Steve pauses, furrows his eyebrows. “It’s like this… this dark cloud constantly floating above me that always looks like it’s going to rain, but you never know for sure if it will or not. I’m…”

Steve trails off, sucks in a harsh breath, and looks at her. His voice comes out just above a whisper, a weak thing that if she wasn’t right in front of him, Robin wouldn’t hear.

“I’m scared I’m not gonna feel happy again, Robs.”

That… That’s what brings Robin close to tears again. The quiet way he admits it, like he doesn’t want to say it too loud in fear the universe will make it come true, is enough for her eyes to sting.

“Steve…”

“I know,” he chuckles wetly, hand coming up to run through his hair as he looks away. “I know how it sounds, Robbie. Trust me, I do. If I could fix it, I would, but I don’t know how—“

“You don’t have to fix it, Steve,” she interrupts. “You’re not broken, this… this is just another part of you. One that you are just now letting yourself show. You don’t have to be the perfect, put-together, level-headed person all the time, and no one expects that of you.”

She pauses to look him properly in the eyes, trying to drive her point home. “You’re allowed to be sad, Steve. You’re allowed to feel, you know that, right?”

Steve looks at her, tears falling steadily down his cheeks as he shakes his head. He didn’t know. Robin feels her heart breaking for him, a deep pang in her chest as her soulmate cries in front of her. She wipes his tears away with her thumb, noting how his eyes flutter shut at the touch.

“Keep going,” she gently commands. She runs her hand through his hair, scratching a little at his scalp when he leans into it. He huffs, air fanning across her face.

“It’s really more of a frustration but I… I don’t understand why this keeps happening to me. Why the people I love keep fucking leaving me. I mean… I’m the common factor, right? So I’m the problem,” Steve ventures. “Always have been.”

The last part is added under his breath but Robin hears it. He’s always had a bit of a self-deprecating streak but this is something else. Something deeper, more real.

She gives a small tug at his hair to signal him to keep going.

“All I wanted was for my parents to be proud of me. I worked myself to death just trying to get an ounce of affection, of love, but it was useless. I was never good enough.”

A pause. He sniffs.

“Then Nancy came along and I thought, ‘yeah, I can love her and she can love me back,’” a small, fond smile graces his face, one he always gets when he talks about his past with Nancy. One that means he’s remembering the good times before everything went downhill. There’s no longing there, not anymore.

“I thought that I could finally show someone all these feelings kept inside of me and get some in return,” Steve quietly confesses, then pauses again. That fond look sours, and his mouth forms a stern line. “Guess that was bullshit, huh?”

He spits out ‘bullshit’ like it's laced with poison, followed by a hollow laugh. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and keeps going.

“I thought she was it for me but she… She wanted Jonathan. She wanted someone better, and who am I to blame her for that? I’d want someone better if I was her, too.”

“You did everything right with the situation you were given, Steve. It’s perfectly okay to want some normalcy after what you saw, what you went through. You and Nancy just don’t deal with trauma the same way, and that’s okay too,” Robin reassures. She lets some bitterness seep into her voice, because yes, she is mad at Nancy on Steve’s behalf. “What’s not okay is the fact that she cheated on you, and you’re allowed to be hurt by that.”

He pats her hand, a silent understanding. She nods. “Keep going.”

“After that, I tried to become a better person. A better influence for the kids to be around. I wanted to be someone they could go to, a figure they could always trust and lean on for anything. Someone I wish I had as a kid,” there’s a sadness in his voice as he says that, a tone he always gets when he talks about his childhood. Robin taps her fingers against his scalp to get him to look at her. She smiles at him, and he gives a small one in return. He keeps talking.

“They need to feel safe in this shitty town that decides losers and freaks should be shunned, that they’re bad for being a little different,” his voice is filled with anger as he grinds the words out, words she has a suspicion are directed at the people who pay the bills for the very house they’re laying in.

“But none of it ever mattered because they found someone else to do that for them, to be that for them.” Robin gives him a confused look.

“Who?”

“Eddie,” Steve reveals, face forming a small smile as the name slips through his lips. He looks… fond, in a sad way.

It only confuses Robin further.

“I don’t blame him for any of this, by the way,” he clarifies. “I doubt he even realizes it. And they… They’re just kids, I can’t blame them for choosing the better option.

“Eddie shares their interests in their little nerd game, something I can’t even begin to comprehend. He’s funny and charming and outgoing, and he's so, so good with the kids,” he smiles once he rambles about Eddie, a small thing that Robin realizes is similar to the one he wears when he talks about his past with Nancy. Except this one… this one is bigger. Better. Real.

As if realizing he’s rambling, his face loses that bit of brightness as he looks away.

“I’m mostly just angry at myself,” he admits. “I just want my family back. Even though they’ve made it very clear they don’t want me in return… I still want them.”

He looks up at her then, face contorted with resentment she can tell is only directed towards himself. “Isn’t that fucked up? Isn’t that just perfectly fucking tragic?”

It’s a rhetorical question, one she doesn’t need to answer. She can’t say anything to help, anyway. Steve wipes a hand harshly over his eyes, irritating the skin and making it red. He lets out an emotionless huff, sniffing a bit through his nose. He looks… exhausted.

“Steve,” she whispers. He looks at her, and she finally asks one of the questions that’s been bugging her since this morning. “When was the last time you slept?”

He stares at her blankly, eyes darting around as if he's visualizing the math he’s doing in his head. All of the fanfare tells her he’s not sure when, and her suspicion is confirmed when he shrugs.

“I uh… don’t really remember. The days kinda all blend together, ya know?”

She nods. She does know, the days after their run-ins with the Upside Down always seem to pass by in a blur. The doctors say it’s something to do with trauma, the brain needing time to fully process everything that happened and causing the time to slip by. This time there is no Upside Down, no mortal peril or end of the world, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less important.

She’s realized a lapse in post-nightmare phone calls from Steve recently, but just figured it was because he was getting better. They usually dwindle down to two or three a week after a few months, something they’ve all found to be relatively normal after what they went through. She never considered that it was because he wasn’t sleeping at all.

“That um… well, that kinda leads me to my next point. Uh…” Steve huffs, running a hand through his hair—something she knows he does with he’s nervous. She waits.

“I’ve not been sleeping because I’m not exactly… at home… every night.”

What?

“What?” Robin questions, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. An idea comes to her head, and she smirks internally.

“Where the hell are you going then? Are you,” she gasps, hand clutching mock pearls around her neck, "fulfilling your title as the resident man whore of Hawkins? Hooking up with the female population while living under my roof?” She waves her finger at him, giving him an overdramatic grumpy face and shaking her head in fake disappointment. “How dare you, young man!”

Steve laughs at her declaration, face a little pink from the accusation, and shakes his head.

“No, Robbie, I’m not ‘hooking up’ or whatever,” he rolls his eyes, as if finding the claim absolutely absurd. Even if it’s already half true.

“Actually, I’ve been uh… patrolling. Hawkins. Um, at night and stuff…”

Robin blinks.

“What does,” she pauses and makes sure to physically add quotation marks with her fingers, “‘and stuff’ mean exactly?”

“It means that I’m trying to be proactive, okay? Every time the Upside Down has come for us, we’ve been unprepared. Surprised. If I can prevent that from happening, give everyone a bit of a heads up, then it’ll be worth it,” he explains. “I know El–Jane? Whatever–said she closed it but we’ve thought that before and it’s come back so… better safe than sorry.”

Steve flops his head back on the pillow behind him, staring up at the sheet ceiling rather than at her. Robin doesn’t mind, as long as it gets him to talk. Kinda gross she can see his nose hairs now, though. He sighs.

“I’ve been going out at night with my bat and checking all the gates, all the spots they’ve come through before, to make sure they’re gone. Every night. Sometimes I don’t finish until early morning, sometimes it’s only a couple hours but… yeah,” he finishes ineloquently.

So, he’s a dumbass. His intentions are good, don’t get her wrong, but the execution… is not the greatest. No wonder he’s exhausted. Speaking of—

“Wait, so when do you actually sleep?”

“Only when I can’t physically stand to be awake anymore. My body kinda… shuts down,” Steve says, like it’s nothing. Like that’s not the most depressing thing she’s ever heard. Like it’s not entirely unhealthy. He huffs a laugh.

“The first time it happened, it scared the shit outta me. Thought I was dying. Turns out you’re not supposed to be awake for like… four days straight,” he recalls, face light like he’s talking about a fond memory instead of passing out from exhaustion. “On the bright side, I don’t have as many nightmares now. Don’t think my brain can keep up with all that.”

His version of a ‘bright side’ is decidedly equivalent to the darkest depths of the Mariana Trench because what the actual fuck—

“Steve…” she trails off, voice wobbly with fear for her best friend. She begs to know why he’s doing this, why he’s risking his life and sanity again, why he always seems to play the self-sacrificial card even when it’s not necessary. Even when no one asks him to. “Why?”

She expects him to crumble again, to fall apart at the realization that he’s tearing himself apart on his own volition. She expects him to cry out apologies, to scream and rant and hit things just to let all his emotions out. She expects her platonic soulmate, who carries the weight of too-heavy emotions on his shoulders and in his heart, to show his cards and let it all out.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he closes his eyes. He, at this moment, looks peaceful. Content. Like his world isn’t crumbling down around him. Like he—

Like he’s accepted it.

Accepted the anger and hate and rejection from the people he loves. Accepted the endless nights of walking and hunting and searching just in case. Accepted keeping all of this—his thoughts, his emotions, his vulnerability, his love—to himself.

Accepted that his love will never be returned, so why even try to live for it anymore?

The last shards of her heart shatter completely.

“Even though they don’t want me anymore, I have to keep them safe. It’s my job. It’s what I’m meant—what I’m expected to do,” he insists. His voice is an even, calm tone. No waver, no hesitation. “I’m so scared that it’ll come back and I’ll—we’ll be too late.”

She doesn’t miss his corrections, but doesn’t point them out either.

“You know it’s not all up to you, right? There’s other people—me for one, Joyce and Hop, Wayne and Eddie, Nancy and Jonathan, and… fuck it, probably that Murray guy too—that are willing to help. That can help,” she suggests gently. “You don’t have to fight all your battles alone, ya know. Sometimes you need a little help, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Steve has his eyes open now and is looking at her. Not in a sad way, or ashamed or angry or anything of the sort. He’s just… looking. Looking just to look.

“I… I think somewhere deep down I know that, that you’re all here, but it’s just so hard to accept. It’s hard to believe it, Robs,” he confesses. “I’m sorry.”

Robin smiles at him, a soft thing that feels like melted butter on pancakes or a warm summer morning. She pats his cheek a couple times.

“Stop saying sorry, dingus, or I really will follow through with that promise of throttling you into another concussion.”

Steve laughs, short and sweet as if it took him by surprise, and shakes his head a little.

“Sorry, it’s just a habit.”

“You just said it again!”

“Fuck, sorry—"

“Steve!“

“Sorry—“

“Steve!“

“Sor—“ Robin cuts him off by pinching his lips together with her fingers, making him look like a deformed baby duckling. The imagery has her snorting and Steve follows soon after, only laughing because she is, until they’re both clutching their sides and gasping for breath.

He looks younger like this, when he’s laughing. Like the Upside Down never happened. Like his father never happened. Like he’s just a kid.

She has the striking realization that he is just a kid. He’s only nineteen, barely even a legal adult, yet he’s seen enough shit for a lifetime. Really, he’s been an adult for far longer than two years, far longer than anyone should have been at his age. He barely had time to just be a kid but now, here, when he’s laughing with her, so carefree and innocent… she thinks he might finally be letting himself feel like one again.

To think that earlier in the day, she was mad at his dumb ass for not driving her to work. Funny how a few hours can change someone’s whole perspective, huh?

Speaking of…

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s with the duffle and box in your car?”

Steve’s face falls, and that light he held from earlier has all but vanished. He huffs a small laugh.

“I don’t even know why that’s still in there, to be honest with you,” he confesses. Clear that he isn’t going to continue, Robin nudges him with her hand. He sighs.

“Sometimes when I go out at night, I don’t really uh… remember everything,” he starts. “I kinda zone out a bit? Like my head isn’t screwed all the way to my body and the connection’s all wonky.”

“Babe, it sounds like you’re dissociating,” she offers. At his confused face, she elaborates. “It’s when you kinda disconnect from yourself, and a lot of times you can’t really remember what happens.”

He nods. “So I guess I do,” he gestures to her, “that sometimes. Or, well—every time, really…” he trails off, then flicks his eyes to meet hers.

“One night, I just… I guess I needed to get out. Out of the house, out of Hawkins, who knows,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I grabbed everything I needed—or thought I needed, I guess, and shoved them in my car. I don’t remember how I got there, only that I came back in my head at the edge of town with my car pulled off on the side of the road just in front of the ‘Leaving Hawkins’ sign.

“I just sat there in my car and thought that I could just… keep going. Kept thinking that I could just follow the road, see where it takes me. Go around the curve and disappear into the trees. Leave everyone behind. Not like they’d care, anyway.”

“Hey,” she smacks his arm. “I would care, dingus. I don’t know what I’d do if you just disappeared on me.”

She doesn’t like thinking about it, about the fact that he could leave. Part of her knows it would be good for him to get out of town, to not let it hold him back from doing whatever he wanted with his life. Another part of her—the more selfish part—wants him to stay. Wants him to be with her for everything. Wants him to be there when she gets her first girlfriend, when she gets married, when she has kids. Wants him to be her other half for the rest of their lives.

The thought of him just disappearing, though… that’s one she hasn’t even considered being an option. He’s a constant in her life, always there when she needs him, and sometimes even when she doesn’t. He’s her rock, just like she’s his. Life without him… it’s something she can’t really comprehend.

“I know you would, Robs,” he begins, voice as soft as the smile on his face. “You’re one of the reasons I turned the car around that night.”

Fuck, she’s gonna cry.

“Jesus, how can you just say stuff like that?” She sniffles, not really crying but her eyes are definitely stinging. “Fuck, that’s like… the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Steve laughs and reaches up to ruffle her hair. “Don’t take it too seriously, you’re only one of the reasons.”

“I still count though!”

“Yeah, Robbie, you still count.”

Robin collects herself before flopping on Steve’s chest, right ear next to his heart. She likes listening to it, to the deep thu-thump that proves he’s alive. It always seems to calm her down.

One of Steve’s hands comes up to play with her hair and she smiles. She traces little shapes on his chest while she tries to figure out how to ask her next question. However, her thinking face must be obvious because Steve tugs her hair a little and dramatically sighs.

“Just spit it out, Robs.”

“I’m getting there! Just…” she hesitates. “What’s in the shoebox? Like… your favorite pair of shoes or something?”

She couldn’t fathom why in the hell he would bring shoes of all things with him out of town, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings if that was the case. But, judging by the incredulous look on his face, shoes are definitely not an essential item for his escape.

“Have I… never shown you the shoebox?”

“Um…” she pauses. “No? I’m pretty sure I would remember that, Steve.”

“Huh,” he huffs. “Thought I did… ”

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Back to the point.”

“Right, yeah,” he takes a breath. “It’s everything the kids have ever given me. Polaroids, notes, letters, stickers, trinkets. You name it, it's probably in there. Pretty sure there's some arcade coins somewhere in there too.”

“Aw, Steve,” she starts. “That’s so sweet.”

Steve smiles a little, then—for some weird reason—blushes.

“That’s not.. all that’s in the box,” he begins. “There’s stuff from you, obviously, like our friendship bracelets and your little notes reminding me to eat or sleep or shower. Plus tons of pictures from your disposable camera you had a while back—“

“Wait, you kept those?” She interrupts. He nods. “Huh… I thought you just threw them all away.”

“Why the hell would I do that? They’re from you, Robs, I would never throw them away.”

“I mean, some of them were really bad. Like… I’m pretty sure they were all blurry in some way and I’m almost positive there’s a picture of just my thumb in there.”

Steve smiles. “There is. It’s my favorite one.”

She hits him. “Yeah, yeah, asshole.”

“No really, it is! You wanna know why?”

“Sure, why?”

“Cause in the bottom right corner you can see your smile. You were trying to take a picture of yourself, I think, but your thumb got in the way of the lens,” he grins and looks down at her. “Sometimes I take it out when I’m feeling sad just to remind myself what your smile looks like.”

God fucking damnit there he goes again.

“You know, I think you’re just trying to make me cry at this point,” she starts. Steve rolls his eyes at her.

“Just being honest, Robbie.”

“I know, shithead, that’s what’s making me cry,” she rubs her eyes, willing the stinging to go away. “What else is in there?”

“There’s still stuff from Nancy, I think. There’s one of her flashcards, a ticket stub from our first date to the movies, and there's a ribbon in there that I’m pretty sure she used to wear in her hair. But… I don’t look at them nearly as much as I do yours or… or Eddie’s.”

“Eddie’s?” She questions, because what the fuck?

“Mhm… you know how he likes giving out little trinkets to people?”

She nods. She does know, her dresser is full of them; shiny soda tabs hooked together in a little chain, bouncy balls from the little restaurant machines, and rocks that Eddie claimed were “so cool, Birdie, just look!”. There’s a little sailor figurine that’s her current favorite, given to her by Eddie shortly after her and Steve recounted their Scoops experience.

“Well, they’re all in that box. Every last one of them. All the bottle caps, buttons, D&D figurines, drawings, notes, everything,” a smile finds its way to his face, a small thing she isn’t sure he knows he’s doing. “I almost need another box just for everything he’s given me.”

“But…” she begins, hesitating. “Why put them in a box?”

“In case they come home,” Steve answers, plain and simple. She knows he’s talking about his parents, about how if they found even one little weakness of his, he’s done for.

She remembers one morning in the winter when she had woken up in Steve’s bed to the sound of distant yelling. The spot Steve normally would have been in was cold, and when she sat up she could tell that the voice was one she didn’t recognize.

She shrugged on one of Steve’s sweatshirts to fight the chill, the fabric draping her frame as she snuck down the hallway. Robin froze when she heard a sharp ‘smack’, followed by a thud. Her stomach sank and she couldn’t move. It was like her brain had disconnected from her body, leaving her limbs rooted to the spot until it came back online. The voice was still yelling, but Robin was too out of it to make sense of it in her head.

Only when she heard the slam of the front door and an engine start up did she begin to move. Thundering down the stairs, she ran down the hallway and froze at the entrance to the kitchen.

Steve was sitting on the floor, knees pressed up against his chest with his arms draped loosely over them as a bright pink whelp formed on his cheek. He was still in his pajamas and his hair was draped messily over his face, half of it pushed back as if he attempted to make it look presentable.

Robin took in a shaky breath.

“Steve…”

At the sound of her voice, Steve’s head shot up and his eyes blew wide. He immediately covered the red mark with his hand as he got to his feet.

“Robs, this isn’t what it looks like,” he stated, but Robin could tell by the waver in his voice that yes, it was.

She took a slow step towards him, holding her arms out as if he was a wild rabbit she was trying to catch and he was at risk of running away any minute. By the tense line of his shoulders and the way his eyes were flitting over her face and around the room, he was very much prepared to do just that.

“I know,” she tried to reassure, and after another step closer she could tell it was working. She stopped moving and just held out her arms, waiting. Steve collapsed into them not a moment later, chest hitching with cut-off breaths as his mind panicked. She rubbed soothing hands up and down his back.

After he had calmed down some, and his breathing was closer to normal, she broke the silence.

“Who did this, Steve?”

He gripped the back of her sweatshirt in his hands so tight, she feared he would rip the fabric. His voice came out quiet, as if saying it out loud would change everything. In a way, maybe it did.

“My… my dad,” he confessed. “I-It’s not bad, though. I knew he was in a bad mood but I pushed it anyways and he—"

“Woah, woah, slow down before you launch yourself into another panic attack,” Robin interrupted. “Steve, is this the first time it’s happened?”

“Him yelling at me? No, that’s kinda all he—“

“No, Steve,” she cut him off. “Is that the first time he’s hit you?”

Silence. Then, a small shake of his head.

Robin clenched her eyes closed as they began to sting and wondered just how long he’s been going through this, then wondered if he was doing so alone.

“Steve… does anyone know?” Robin asked, and Steve only shook his head again.

“I think Hop suspected something when I was younger, he used to come around a lot after they would come home and leave, but… he stopped coming around when I got older. Guess he thought I outgrew it,” Steve explained, and Robin’s heart ached for him.

“How long?”

“… as long as I can remember,” came his shaky whisper, and Robin only squeezed him tighter in response.

“You don’t deserve this, Steve,” she insisted. Steve immediately began to shake his head.

“No, I… I do, Robin, I was asking for it this time. He was just doing what he needed to in order to get his point across. It was my fault for trying to talk back,” Steve defended. Robin furrowed her eyebrows.

“Steve, what was he yelling about?”

“That’s… that’s not important—“

“Just answer the question, dingus,” she insisted. Steve sighed.

“He was mad that I didn’t decorate for the holidays, said that we had a reputation in this neighborhood and I was ruining it. He said he expected me to do better or else next year, I wouldn’t even have a house to decorate.”

“Steve… you realize that’s wrong , right?” She asked, but Steve just looked at her blankly.

“No, it’s a pretty simple concept. I knew I needed to decorate but between the gatherings and parties and taking the kids shopping, I didn’t have time. I should’ve made time, but I didn’t and that’s on me,” Steve explained, and Robin wanted to throttle him.

“Steve, you shouldn’t be expected to do any of that. If your parents wanted the house decorated that badly they should have called someone to come and do it or—god forbid—actually do it themselves,” she countered.

“But-“

“No ‘but’s, Steve. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it until you believe me; you don’t deserve this,” Robin stated. “Can you repeat that for me?”

“I… I don’t deserve this,” Steve muttered hesitantly.

“Good, again.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he repeated, more confident but not as strong as she’d like.

“One more time.”

“I don’t… holy shit, I don’t deserve this, Robbie,” he finished with a whisper as the words registered in his mind, taking root in the folds of his brain.

“Damn right you don’t,” she pulled back to grab his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “We’re going to get through this.”

Steve nodded. “We’re going to get through this.”

They smiled at each other, and Robin knew that they both meant it.

“… Robin?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“I… I love you.”

“I love you too, dingus.”

After that night, Robin had made it her mission to get Steve out of the house as much as possible when his parents were home, even going as far as keeping him at her house for a whole weekend when they stopped by unexpectedly. But that fear never quite goes away, and some small part of him, she thinks, will always be afraid of his father.

“I can’t let them take away the last little things that make me happy. I just… I don’t think I could survive that, Robs.”

“I know.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Robin thinks he’s done talking until she sees him bite his lip—another sign he’s thinking about saying something.

“Then there’s the box," he starts. She blinks.

“There’s another box?” She questions. Jesus, how many could he need?

“Not a physical box, no, but one in here,” he taps his head. “It’s where I put all the things in my mind that's too big to think about by myself.”

“What’s in this box?” He smiles a fond little smile.

“Eddie.”

Um… the fuck?

“Eddie?” She asks, because she must have misheard him, right?

But Steve just nods his head, his smile growing. “Eddie.”

“Okay… what about him?”

“I… okay, I need to preface this by saying that uh… I think I like boys, too,” he confesses, voice quiet as if he’s waiting for some kind of retribution for his words. Robin, on the other hand, is in the middle of a spontaneous cardiac event because what the everloving fuck?

“What?!” She screeches, sitting up suddenly and causing Steve’s hand to fall from its place in her hair. He winces due to their close proximity. “Wait, wait, wait… you mean to tell me that you, Steve Harrington, are into guys?”

Steve shrinks back on himself a little at her disbelieving tone, face closing off, and she can see in real time the mask quickly sliding into place. Immediately, she backtracks.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” She rushes out, face flushing. “Obviously, it’s okay for you to like guys, I mean it would be totally hypocritical of me to say you can’t. Not that I have any say in who you can or can’t like anyway! I mean, you’re your own person after all, it’s just… very unexpected and I—"

"Robin," Steve interrupts. "You're rambling again."

"Oh," she breathes out and snaps her jaw shut, giving him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, uh… keep going."

“Well, it’s um… It’s not really that unexpected on my end,” Steve reveals, and Robin’s mind blows a little bit further. “When I was younger, I never really understood why being gay was frowned upon by some people because I just… I felt that way about guys sometimes too.”

And that was… what?

“Tommy was the first guy who really stood out in my head. We became friends in grade school and he just… he was always there. I remember looking at him sometimes and wanting to count his freckles or hold hands when we walked. I never did, of course, ‘cause he made his opinions about queer people very clear.

“Outside of the whole asshole thing, he was actually pretty nice. Well, when he wanted to be, anyway,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Steve glances at her and looks away, cheeks flushing a little.

“Then it was uh… Billy Hargrove.”

Now that… that threw her for a fucking loop.

“Hold up, Billy?!” She shrieks. “Like… the same Billy that broke a plate over your head? Who beat you unconscious and left you with a concussion?”

Steve nods, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. Robin groans, burying her face in his chest. Of course he’s going to have the worst possible taste in men.

“Okay, it was before he beat me unconscious, but still! I didn’t like Billy as a person, obviously, just appreciated his general… you know… sex appeal,” he clarifies. She groans again.

“Hey, he was hot!” He defends. He runs a hand over his face before continuing. “I didn’t want to date him or anything, but the fact that I was interested in him at all was terrifying at the time. I didn’t know what it meant, so I pushed it all to the back of my mind and locked it away.”

“Hence the box,” she confirms. He nods. There’s silence, and when Steve doesn’t continue, she prompts him.

“Then there’s Eddie.” He smiles and nods.

“Then there’s Eddie,” he repeats. His face lights back up just at the mere mention of him, and Robin can’t help but to smile as well.

“Tell me about him,” she asks, and immediately knows that’s the wrong move because if it’s one thing Steve picked up on during their friendship so far, it’s Robin’s tendency to ramble.

“Looking back on it, I think I had a crush on him in school, too. The way he would attract the attention of everyone in the room just by his presence alone was almost breathtaking, and I found myself looking over at his lunch table more times than I could count,” he admits. A blush has found its way to his cheeks, settling high on his cheekbones.

“The way he would spout nonsense about society and expectations made me realize that we were similar in that way, having a need to be different from everyone else, to get away from the normalcy of it all. I was unable to look away, to focus on anything else because he was always there and my mind was very, very weak.

“And it was fine in school, because I knew nothing would ever come from it ‘cause he made it clear he hated rich, popular jocks and… well, I fit into that category pretty well. There was no way he would ever like me, so after I graduated that infatuation kinda fizzled out.

“Then, the kids started talking about Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, and I knew that it had to be the same one because no other nerd would be willing to run a D&D club in Hawkins of all places,” he huffs a little laugh, more of a push of air through his nose, but the smile on his face is as gooey as freshly baked brownies.

“When I started picking the kids up, I’d see him across the parking lot and that infatuation came rushing back. The way he’d run out of the double doors with a flourish grand enough to rival a king yet immediately trip on the lip of the concrete was so endearing that it would never fail to make me laugh.

“Then I got to actually know him, and I think that’s when I knew,” Steve finishes, and Robin can’t hold back a grin. One thing that will never get old is hearing Steve talk about the people he cares about. Hear him talk about all the little things he notices, the little quirks and intricacies of those around him. It’s just… it’s nice to know that someone sees.

“So, what else do you like about him?” She asks, and the dopey grin that blooms on his face is enough to make her wonder if sometime during this conversation, he managed to get high without her noticing.

“He’s so sweet, Robbie! He gets all shy when you compliment him and does that thing where he hides behind his hair but it does absolutely nothing to hide his face,” he begins, hands gesturing as he talks. “Speaking of his hair, it looks so soft. I just wanna run my fingers through it and fluff it up.”

Steve groans, covering his face with his hands. It takes all of Robin's willpower not to outright cackle at how gone her best friend is. He rakes his hands down his face, stretching his skin as he fixes his eyes on the sheet ceiling above them.

“God, he’s so hot, Robs. Seriously, I think I’m going to spontaneously combust every time I see him. The whole rocker persona really does it for me.”

“I mean… it kinda sounds like you have a type.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” Steve grumbles, squinting his eyes at her.

“No, I’m serious! Hot, curly hair, deceptively smart with a firecracker attitude… I mean Nancy and Eddie are practically the same person,” she ventures.

“I guess you’re right. Billy was just a physical attraction, though. Dick didn’t have any real personality to appeal to,” he mutters the end of that sentence, but she snorts anyway. Then, his eyes blow wide. “Wait, is that considered speaking ill of the dead, or whatever?”

Robin shrugs. “He deserves it.”

“Yeah, he kinda does… still miss that ass, though—ow!”

Robin cuts him off by smacking his chest, hard. “Ew, gross! I totally did not need to visualize that oh my god.”

Steve snickers underneath her, giggles bubbling out his throat. She only rolls her eyes at him before smacking him again.

“You got off track again, dingus,” Robin reminds him and he sends a sheepish smile her way. “What else about Eddie?”

“He…” Steve pauses, and his lips quirk upwards. “He always looks so soft, underneath all the denim and leather. Like… he gets this look on his face sometimes, like he’s feeling all the love in the world, and I find myself wanting to be the reason that look is there. I wanna see him early in the morning when he hasn’t had his coffee yet and he’s all sleep rumpled and soft and domestic and I wanna wake up to him like that everyday, Robs.

“I wanna watch him grumble and talk to himself and fuss over breakfast. I wanna take the kids places with him and lean against his side while we watch the gremlins run around. I wanna look into his eyes in the morning sunlight and watch how they shine amber up close.

“I wanna trace his dimples with my finger, then his lips, and his jawline, and his neck, too. I wanna cuddle with him after a long shift at work and lean against him as he practices guitar and watch movies while holding hands in the dark and kiss him. Fuck, I wanna kiss him so bad. I wanna kiss him until our breath runs out and then some, ‘cause I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him.”

Steve looks… Well, there's only one word for it. He looks like he’s in love. His eyes have gone soft, staring off as if he’s visualizing Eddie in front of him. His face is relaxed, a smile she now recognizes as his ‘Eddie smile’ grows.

It falls a little bit as the silence stretches, and he looks down at his hand laying idly on his chest. He starts fiddling with the fabric there, running his thumb along a fold.

“I tried to get closer to him after he got out of the hospital, and it worked for a little while. We would hang out here most of the time, watching movies or talking under the stars outside, but… I could tell he was holding me at arms length. Like he couldn’t accept that I was different. That I wanted to be there.”

He looks at her, smile turning a little sad.

“Then he stopped initiating hangouts and every time I offered, he would say no or claim he had something to do before rushing off. So I just took it as it was and stopped trying,” he sighs.

Robin thinks back to every interaction she’s seen between the two of them, how Eddie was always quick to leave and never lingered like he used to. How he almost seemed… nervous around Steve. Hesitant.

That fucking dumbass.

She starts to get up, only pausing her efforts to untangle their limbs.

“What—where are you going?” She huffs.

“To the trailer park,” she starts. Limbs finally free, she sits back on her knees and crosses her arms. “I’m going to knock some sense into that damn metalhead and probably kill him for hurting my best friend.”

Steve snorts and drags her back down on top of him.

“It’s okay, Robs, you don’t have to do anything. Promise me you won’t hurt him?”

“Ugh, fine. I promise or whatever,” she reluctantly agrees, and lays her head back down on his chest.

A beat of silence, then—

“Can I at least punch him a little?”

A pause.

“Okay, I’ll let you get away with that,” Steve amends. “But only light punching. I know you know how to throw a mean right hook and if I see Eddie with even a single bruise on his pretty face I think I’ll go into mourning.”

Robin giggles at his statement, and Steve just rolls his eyes at her before letting out a giggle of his own.

“I’m serious!” He tries to be stern, but the giddy smile on his face is a far cry from the nature of his words.

“I know, I know,” Robin says, holding back another wave of giggles. “Man, you’re really gone on him, aren’t you?”

Steve nods sadly.

“I want to tell him that I like him, Robs, but I can’t,” he confesses. “It’s.. it’s breaking me inside, to have all these feelings for someone and know you can never do anything about it.”

“Steve…”

“It’s terrifying just thinking about telling him because what if? What if he thinks I’m just fucking with him and shuts me out completely? What if he’s a homophobe or thinks that I just wanna use him as an experiment or something? Cause I don’t, not like that.”

“Steve,” she tries to interject, knowing that he’s working himself up. He ignores her.

“But as much as I hate holding all this… all this shit inside, it's still better than telling him. I don’t…I don’t think I could handle it if he rejected me,” he finishes. The ‘I don’t think I could survive it’ goes unsaid, but not unheard.

He finally looks at her, and she notes the sad acceptance in his eyes. His face threatens to crumble, as does hers, but they hold it together.

“Robbie, am I crazy for feeling like this?” He asks, voice a near whisper. “For falling for someone who hates me?”

She smiles sadly, placing a hand on his cheek and causing a tear to fall from his eye. She wipes it away with her thumb.

“You’re not crazy, Steve,” she reassures. “I know how it feels, how scary it is to like someone like that. It sucks, but it’ll only get better if you talk about it.”

He smiles a little. “I do feel a little better now, actually.”

“See? Talking helps, and I’m always here to listen,” she insists. She lays her head back down on his chest, not taking her hand away from his face, and slowly wipes away the stray tears that fall from his eyes. She vaguely registers that her thumb is acting as a mini windshield wiper for his face. The thought makes her smile.

Steve takes a deep breath, the movement causing her head to raise with it, and she knows there’s something else on his mind. She waits.

“Is…” he whispers, hesitating. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just… I like boys, but I like girls too. That part hasn’t changed for me but… can I do that? Like, is that…” he trails off. “Is that allowed?”

“Yeah, Steve, that’s allowed. You can like whoever you want to, it doesn’t change who you are,” she reassures. Steve lets out a breath, like he was holding it in lieu of her answer.

“But… What am I then? I mean… I can’t be half gay and half straight, right?” He asks.

At that, Robin thinks back to a few zines she got on her and Steve’s first trip to Indy. She had been wanting to go ever since she came out to Steve on the grimy bathroom floor high on drugs, when he had accepted her with no questions asked. She had always heard things about Indianapolis, about how it was so much different than the little town of Hawkins. How there were so many more people, so many different types of people, and she just had to see it for herself.

A couple months after Starcourt, when school was just beginning to take off, Robin had asked if they could go on a day trip somewhere, just to get out before they were stuck there for the winter months and holidays. Steve had agreed, of course, and they piled in his fancy car and made short work of the two-hour trip to the city.

It was bigger than they expected, people milling about the streets and tall buildings surrounding them. Parking was a total bitch, but once they got their feet on the ground there was no stopping them. They bought shitty hot dogs off the street, popped into a bunch of little stores for the sole reason just to look, and even ventured into the fancy stores to make fun of their obscene prices.

“Robs! I want you to guess how much this shirt is.”

“Uh… like ten bucks?”

“Try seventy-five.”

“Holy shit! It’s so ugly!!”

“I know! God, rich people are weird.”

“Steve… you are rich.”

“Yeah, but I have taste. That’s different.”

“Keep telling yourself that, dingus.”

They were beginning their trek back to the car when a small, multi-colored flash caught her eye. A rainbow flag sticker was stuck to the store-front window of a small record shop, and Robin immediately grabbed Steve and pulled him in.

“Robs, what—“

“Shut up, and come with me. I might’ve found something.”

She didn’t wait for his response, only shoved open the shop door with a huff. The bell above her jingled, and a woman behind the counter nearby looked up from a magazine on the desk below her.

“Hi there, welcome to Rainbow Records!” The lady greeted them. “New releases are in this bin here,” she gestured to a bin full of records next to her, “and all other records are sorted by genre and alphabetically.”

Immediately, Robin was in love with her. She had long black hair that was shaved on the sides, the top of it pulled back into a sort of half-bun. Her ears were full of piercings, some dangling almost to her shoulders, that matched the flowy skirt she was wearing.

She felt Steve nudge her with his elbow, and that was when she realized she had been staring rather intently with her mouth hanging open like a newborn baby bird waiting for its mama to puke up worm goo for food. She snapped it closed with an audible click.

“Sorry, uh… Hi! Thank you for uh— that. I… um,” she floundered and pointed to herself. “Robin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Robin. I’m Delia,” she responded, smiling before looking her up and down.

“We also have a room in the back you might be interested in. There’s an assortment of different media back there I think you’ll enjoy,” Delia said before she winked at her, and Robin knew she was in the right place.

“Well, Robs?” Steve spoke up behind her, quiet enough to not be overheard. She had almost forgotten he was there. “You wanna go look?”

It was more than a question, it was an out. It was his way of asking if she was ready, if she wanted him to be a part of this, too. If she wanted him to be a part of this stage in her life, this self-discovery.

She looked back at her best friend, whose face was so open and earnest that it made a huge smile bloom on her face.

“Hell yeah,” she said with a grin. “Let's do this, dingus!”

She grabbed his hand and walked up to the counter, and Delia pointed her head towards a small hallway on the other side of the room that Robin only just now noticed.

“It’s back there whenever you’re ready to look,” she informed. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. Both of you.”

“Thanks, Delia,” Robin responded, blushing enough to be seen from outer space, and looked up at Steve, whose face was a similar shade of red. She rolled her eyes and dragged Steve behind her into the room.

It was dimly lit, giving it a cozy atmosphere that made her feel completely at home. Posters and colorful flags lined the walls, with pictures of queer artists and figures as well as local drag queens and advertisements for different underground clubs filling in the gaps. There were different sections for movies, books, music, and magazines, all with different subcategories depending on which sexualities they included.

Robin’s eyes began to sting. She had spent years of her life feeling like the only person in the world, knowing that she would never find anyone like her in Hawkins and trying miserably to make peace with that. Then Steve came along and accepted her with open arms and zero complaints, and it made her feel a little less lonely.

But now, looking at a room filled from wall to wall with things by people like her? By people who knew what it was like to fall for people society says you shouldn’t fall for, by people who have defied what society said and expressed themselves anyway? It was enough to bring her to tears.

“Woah, hey, Robbie,” Steve began, moving in front of her to block her view. His hands came to rest on her cheeks, wiping away her tears as they fell. “What’s wrong? Is it too much?”

Robin shook her head, clenching her eyes closed.

“Happy tears,” she laughs wetly, hand coming up to wipe away a tear that snaked its way under her chin. “They’re happy tears, promise.”

Steve pulled her into a tight hug, hands wrapping solidly around her and she instantly felt better. She melted into him and hugged him back, and the two of them stayed there until she pulled away.

“Alright, help me find some hot women, okay?”

Steve laughed that big, loud laugh of his and Robin couldn’t help but to join him. They sorted through all of it; books, movies, and magazines alike. She went home that night with two books, a handful of magazines, and more knowledge than she ever imagined having about being queer.

It was time she put it to good use.

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘bisexual’?” She asks. He shakes his head. “It means liking both, Steve.”

He goes silent, so quiet she would have thought he stopped breathing too if she wasn’t still laying on his chest. His mouth silently forms the word, before a smile breaks out on his face.

“Bisexual. I think… I think that’s me,” he confirms.

“Now tell me properly this time,” she suggests. He smiles at her, and she can’t contain a smile of her own.

“I’m bisexual, Robbie,” he says, his words full of genuine confidence.

“Thank you for telling me, Steve.”

They smile at each other, both so wide she’s surprised their faces haven’t split in half yet. She scoots up to wrap him in a hug, laughing a little when his arms immediately squeeze her back.

Turns out her best friend, her platonic with a capital P soulmate, is more like her than she thought.

———

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[rustboxstarr]

🥀First times for everything🥀

Summary: Just some good ole' fashioned grinding my guys

Pairings: Virgin!Eddie x Plussize!Reader

CW: kissing, groping, smut, grinding, cumming in boxers 😈, slight miscommunication, new relationship, reader referred to as fat by herself because what is so wrong with that? it's an adjective!

Word count: 3.9k

A/N:This was supposed to be a blurb, I very obviously failed..

Check out my other works!

You strolled down the hall adjoining the cafeteria with an arm laced with Robins as you laughed about a previous endeavor in class, Jason had been told to shut it after talking all class and almost peed himself when he wasn't excused to the bathroom with a pass. The early June weather didn't feel as if you had just left spring, it felt like you were in the pique of august in some exotic country judging by the sun blazing down on you, allowing your body to break out in a light sweat whenever you were outside too long. The temperature was up in the three digits category every single day, so automatically baggy jeans and t-shirts turned into shorts and the occasional crop top. Today was that day, you had gotten a few stares, but that was inevitable being a fat girl wearing shorts that barely covered your ass and naturally weighty breasts on display under the white halter top, you would like to think it was a modest amount of cleavage, unfortunately that was only the case for you, for others you looked like you might have been trying too hard, there was no way you were going to care however, it was too damn hot outside to dress any lighter than this. You were pleasantly surprised that the shorts hadn't been bothering you but you dismissed the fact of no chafing due to the short walks between classes and cool air blasting through the school leaving your thighs dry and smooth as they rubbed together when you walked. 

“Oooh, loverboy is here” Robin grabbed your attention and drew it down to the end of the hall to see your boyfriend leant up against the lockers, black t-shirt with some band on it you couldn't read from so far away and a simple pair of green cargo shorts. “oh and he’s waiting by your locker, how cute” Robin grinned sarcastically. You rolled your eyes at her antics, “Oh I just realized you never told me if you.. you know” she widened her eyes excitedly, “Jesus Robin, you are too invested in other people's lives” that was not the answer she was looking for and that was made clear when she shook her head expectantly. “If you must know” you rolled your eyes again “No Eddie and I have not had sex”. You stopped in the middle of the hall, pulling her to the side so you wouldn't arrive where Eddie was, mid conversation. 

“Why not dude? What on earth are you waiting for?” she was undoubtedly exasperated with the situation, you were together, you had talked about sex with Eddie and she had heard from Steve that he had briefly ventured into the subject so what was the big deal?!

“Everyones not sexcrazed teenagers like you and Steve, humping like bunnies” you sneered “Ew when you say that it sounds like you mean were fucking each other” she pulled a face. “Obviously not, I just mean, Steve dates anyone in sight” you gestured to yourself, as if saying he even dates fat girls  “-and you and Vickie seem to be how do I say this?” you pondered “Horny as fuck” you grinned. “So are you and Eddie” she drew her eyebrows up dramatically as if she knew something you didn't. “We don’t know that, for all I know Eddie isn't even ready to do that stuff” you explained. “Welllll” Robin bounced on the balls of her feet “I mean, he’s a 19 year old guy, they're all horny fucks. He might just be waiting for you to tell him you're ready” that was in fact the case, but you didn't know that. 

“I feel like if he was he would say something” you raised your eyebrows as you began treading slowly down the hall again, “You realize you haven't told him you're ready” she rolled her eyes out of your view “I think he would know I’m ready” you countered.

“Sure, because boys are so well known for their knowledge of the female species, Eddie!” she held her hands out as a greeting. Eddie frowned slightly at her dramatic hello “Hey.. Robin” he answered her cautiously. “Alrighty well I’m gonna head to History, I’ll leave you too lovebirds be” she smirked earning a sneer from you as she began walking. She turned around behind Eddie's back to face you and made a lude scene in the hall, pretending to thrust into someone from behind while making awfully exaggerated faces of pleasure. Your stare at her drew Eddie's attention making him look behind him, Robin stopped abruptly and spun around to speed walk to class. 

“Hey” you smiled, stretching up to place a peck to his lips which he happily returned. “Only have a few minutes, I have history too” he explained as you opened your locker to switch out your books “But I wanted to ask, um Wayne, is uh out tonight, if you want to you know come over, we don't have to do anything!” he was quick to stress that fact “but I just thought it might be nice, watch Tv without a 60 year old man hovering around us” he grinned “and uh we got the AC going so it'll be cool” he brought his hand to the back of his neck to scratch and it with the pads of his fingers. 

“Yeah, I’d love to, I’ll just tell Steve I don't need a ride and I’ll go home with you yeah?” you closed your locker, limply holding your math textbook between both hands resting on your stomach. “Yeah sounds good” he smiled down at you, as you met his eyes you saw his attention was brought further down, to your boobs which were now firmly pressed together from the way you were holding your textbooks. You felt slightly awkward under his gaze but the moment only lasted a second or so before he cleared his throat and looked back at you “I’ll uh, be in the parking lot when you end” “Can’t wait” you grinned as you pecked him on the lips again. Before you could draw back Eddie's hand was quick to grab at your neck to hold you to him for just a few seconds longer. You swallowed as you drew apart, “Ok, bye” you forced a smile and quickly walked away. God could you be more awkward??

– 

“You ok?” Robin asked as Eddie folded himself into the wooden chair next to her. “What? Oh, yeah all good” he smiled but Robin only squinted at him, a slight smirk played on her lips as she leant back, waiting for the class to start. As casual as she could be she commented “Cute top Y/N wore today right?” she was trying very hard to fight the smirk, it was proven even more difficult as she turned her head to the side to see Eddie with raised eyebrows, he coughed “Uh, yeah, didn't- didn't really notice it” he tried explaining away. Robin only nodded, silently laughing maniacally in her head. 

–

“Welcome to my humble abode” Eddie grinned as he swung through the door gesturing you to enter first, you chuckled “I’m familiar with it”, both of you slipped off your shoes and dropped your school bags to the floor. “So uh” Eddie clapped his hands together before holding them firmly behind his back, trying not to rock back and forth with nerves “What do you want to do, we can watch a movie, listen to music in my room and uh…” he wasn't sure how exactly he had planned on finishing that sentence. “Make out?” you grinned “I-I mean, only- only if you want to” what was his issue with just saying one word once when he was talking, shut the fuck up Eddie, why are you so nervous, shes your girlfriend you idiot. 

You looked up at him through squinted eyelids, tilting your head to the side “Do you want to?” you had kissed before, sure, indulged in a little tongue, sat next to each other on a bench and awkwardly facing each other but never close to each other, not in someone's bed. “Only if you want to” he deadpanned now, head tilting down to look you straight in the eye, wishing he could understand what was going through your head. You were about to repeat his words back to him, or even say you wouldn't mind it, but maybe if you were clear with Eddie he would be clear with you so you opted for saying it right out “I want to” Eddie's eyes widened. “Do you?” you asked slowly, voice slightly firm “Y-yes, yes” he was nodding vigorously “I want to” you giggled at him “Well come on then” you slipped your palm into his, letting him stumble with you to his bedroom. Before you had a chance to sit down Eddie asked “Music?” trying to avoid your gaze. “Yes” you stated looking him dead in the eyes before grinning “But I’m picking”. 

Eddie clambered onto his bed as you went through music collection. How was he supposed to sit, in the middle against the headboard? To the side so you could sit next to him? Should he lie down? Would you be comfortable with lying down or would he seem like a creep? Was he supposed to be on top? Fuck he was getting in his head, fucking relax. He chose to sit in the middle of the bed, resting against the headboard, this way if you wanted to you could.. sit in his lap.. or next to him, he made sure there was still room for you. 

Just as he was trying to relax and calm his nerves he looked over at you bent at the waist to read the backs of each cassette. His heartbeat rose and an audible gulp was heard through the room as he noticed you. With your particular position your shorts had risen up your hips, wedging between your thighs, seam pressing at your puffy cunt and giving him a clear view of half your ass. He tried to look away, find just one other thing in the room that could catch his interest but it was impossible, his eyes snapped back to you, he rolled his eyes back as if just the sight of you alone was giving him pleasure, which, it was. He took the opportunity to sneakily and quietly adjust himself, forcing his now hard cock to sit straight and under the hem of his boxers, that would definitely make his little issue less noticeable. 

You stood up only a moment later, popping in the A side of the cassette Whodini, Escape. It was a surprise to see Eddie actually had Hip-pop in his house but judging by the size of his collection it seemed reasonable. You rocked your head from side to side with the beat of the music as you turned to Eddie, who sat fiddling with his rings in his lap. Now it was your turn to freak out about the sitting position, you pushed it down and took a breath. You weren't necessarily that excited about sitting on top of Eddie, you were heavy, what if you were too heavy? What if he didnt like you sitting in his lap? But you chose to power through, climbing onto the bed and swinging a leg over his and settling on his mid thighs. Eddie's wide eyes stared up at you, it was unbearable, you didn't want to think you did something wrong so you just quickly attached your lips to his. 

Eddie closed his eyes with a sigh, releasing the tension in his shoulders. As your hands grazed his arms and settled on each side of his neck Eddie drew his hands up to hold lightly at your waist. The kiss lasted a few seconds before you drew back to look at him, you didn't really get a chance though because soon enough Eddie leaned forward searching your lips again, with gentle movements you got him to settle back against the headboard and pecked against his lips. As you kissed him again you felt Eddie's tongue poking slightly at your flesh, nonverbal asking you to part your lips, you did, and you almost swooned when you felt his tongue graze yours, cinnamon gum tasting at the tip of your tongue. A low groan spilled from Eddie's lips as he grew more brave and licked more of your tongue. It was as if both of your bodies just knew and molded together, tongues swiping at each other with growing confidence and force. Eddie's hands began to grip harder at your hips making you notice it more, you chanced it and grabbed his right hand. 

His grip immediately loosened, thinking he might have held you too hard but gasped when he felt you guide his hands to your boob. He muttered a “fuck” against your lips as his fingers pushed into the soft skin. His grip on your hip went back to its former strength as he palmed at you desperately. You hummed against him at the feeling and continued kissing him. Relishing in the feeling of Eddie's greedy hand altering between squeezing harshly and simply holding you. 

He couldn't hold it in anymore though, he was straining desperately against his boxers and he needed some sort of release. You made a shocked whine when his hand left your boob to find its place on your hip again. Eddie forcefully pulled you flush against his chest, moving you from his thighs to sit right down on his clothed cock. You let out a loud gasp as you felt his hard length pressing right against your covered cunt, you parted your thighs to open your lips up to sit firmly on him, allowing his previous adjustment to sit deliciously pressed to your clit. Eddie's hands instinctively pushed over your shorts as he moved his hands from your hips to grab a hefty handful of your ass, causing you to push down on him. You let out a low moan at the feeling, desperately kissing his lips again to taste him. 

When Eddie pulled you towards him with his grip still firm on you over the denim, you pulled away from him. Wide eyes staring down at him in surprise. Eddie's lips curled into a slight smirk and adjusted his footing on the bed, to push you up against him with his knee as his hands encouraged you to grind against him, his hands pushing you back and forth until you got the memo and began grinding against him. One hand left his shoulder to grip at the headboard behind him, supporting you in grinding against him in a particularly hard stroke as you watched Eddie's mouth fall open and his eyes flutter closed at the sensation. You forced your hips forward again, a long stroke where you could feel your clit hit slightly past the ridge of his head earned a loud groan from Eddie as his head fell back, hair brushing lightly against your hand. 

With each movement of your hips, slowly but each stroke daring longer and longer Eddie groaned beneath you, suddenly you missed the touch of his lips against yours so you bent down slightly to capture his plump flesh in a light bite which turned into a kiss. Eddie grasped desperately at the fat of your ass as he timidly licked into your mouth. The long strokes ran faster as you found your position above him and confidence overthrew your nervousness, you hungrily grinded against his cock, the seam of your shorts perfectly placed against your clit as the first thrust of his hips forced it harder into the delicate nub. 

With that first thrust you couldn't help the loud slightly pornographic moan that fell from your lips, it had Eddie slowing his tackle on your mouth to watch in awe as he thrusted again, swallowing hard at the sound of a second moan. With the release of his lips you closed your eyes, your head rolling over on your shoulders to face the ceiling. Eddie stared at you, his mouth falling open as he watched your face intently. He thrust his hips again, harder this time to hear a now proper loud sultry moan echo in the room. Had you opened your eyes you would have seen the surprise and excitement on is face at your reactions, but you were too focused on revelling at the fact that your clit was being treated with perfect friction with each passing second. 

His hands went back to forcing you back and forth over him, the efforts of his knee, his hands, your hips and his hands moving you back and forth made you move faster and faster against him. Unabashedly your moans picked up to short and high pitched with each force of your hips. Eddie groaned as you purposely pushed your weight down on him and it distracted him from watching you. He went back to falling against the headboard with his eyelids shut but eyes rolling to the back of his skull beneath them. 

His groans of delight turned into deep moans when the pace picked up to impatiently fast, rubbing over his dick as quickly as you could. Not only was he getting some much needed relief but soon he felt the relief turn into active pleasure, his eyes flew open in an instant, fuck if you continued like this he was going to cum in his jeans. Jesus christ he would look so pathetic if he couldn't even hold it when you were simply making out. Was this making out? You weren't even kissing him?-

On the other side of the interaction was you, eyes squeezed tightly shut as your mouth dropped open to an exaggerated ‘o’ simply in the moment and not caring one bit that you might complete, it wasn't even the possibility, you knew that with only another minute you would come. And you chased that while picking the pace up once again averaging four strokes with each second, tits bouncing as you pushed yourself down on him.

-Would you be grossed out if he came? Would it be weird? Fuuuuck he was clenching his stomach now, willing his body to slow down, but he couldn't when you felt so damn good. “Shit” it was the first word you had said since walking into his room, and it snapped him right out of his overthinking “- Eddie, I’m gonna cum” you whined. “Wait really?” hang on, if you were cumming, he could too right? “Yeah” it was an answer to his question but it came out as a long moan as you rocked against him. Well that was all the answer Eddie needed and he relaxed, he was shocked that it was even possible but he forced you to rock faster and faster, now fully accepting the pleasure it was causing him. You moans came out louder and louder, almost like high pitched squeaks with each thrust. 

They grew shorter and louder, building up to the inevitable orgasm you were experiencing, you repeated a string of “fuck, fuck, fuck” until finally Eddie heard one loud scream of a moan as your head became even heavier on your shoulders forcing you to almost fall onto your back before Eddie reached up quickly to hold at your back, one hand tightly wrapped around your waist while one splayed between your shoulderblades. Your hand moved from the headboard to grip at his shoulders as you rocked through your orgasm. Eddie had been so fixed on watching you that he hadn't even realized he too was at the brink of the edge “Mother fu- SHIIIIIT” he groaned as he curled in on himself, his forehead finding support against your cleavage as his body portrayed the action of a dry heave. He felt the thick ropes of cum shoot out of his slit to paint the inside of his boxers and create a sticky mess. 

You were now panting heavily as a hand found its way to slither through his curls and hold you softly against your boobs while Eddie shook beneath you. When you finally came down from your high, only 15 seconds after the fact, you became aware that Eddie was still seemingly cumming. You watched in shock as he groaned beneath you and shook uncontrollably until finally what must have been a whole half minute he stilled and heaved heavily. His heavy breathing forces your hand on his shoulder to follow up and down. 

You giggled at him as Eddie moved from your tits to fall back against his pillows, a light sheen of sweat holding his bangs to his forehead as he panted. “Jesus, is this how you normally are?” you joked “Gonna get me pregnant if you cum that hard, probably break the condom” Eddie's eyes opened to look at you through a frown of confusion “I don't know” you answered sheepishly at your weird joke, but Eddie only burst out into a loud laugh, it was intoxicating and led you to join in as well.

The laughter finally died down “I have actually never cum that hard in my life, so no need to worry” he joked. “I’ve uh never actually uh done this before” he gestured between your bodies “Or anything really” you couldn't help the snort that left your throat, Eddie went back to frowning at you “I’m, I’m sorry” now you couldn't help that the loud obnoxious giggle “no no really I’m sorry” you breathed, why was this even funny you had no idea “I, uh, I kinda figured, you didn't really make a move” you explained. 

Eddie pulled a face “Hey, I didn't make a move because I wanted to be respectful of you” he argued “I didn't know if you were like, ready for stuff like this yet” he explained. “Oh that's so sweet” a squeak bubbled up behind your lips as you fought hard not to laugh again “What is so funny?!” Eddie asked exasperatedly, you instinctively went to cover your mouth as you scrunched your face up “It's not funny I swear” you told him after taking a deep breath. “Well it seems to be for you”, you looked at him with a much needed serious expression “It's not funny, it is really sweet, it’s just that, I dated Steve” Eddie shook his head desperately, while blinking profusely with his eyes closed “Sorry, dated? I thought you said you went out like one time” Eddie stressed the one by holding his finger out. You grabbed it and laced your fingers with his. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew I’d scare you off, and I really wanted you to ask me out” you gave him an apologetic look “Robin, kinda told me to wait with that whole thing, she said you'd be insecure” 

“Fucking Robin” Eddie scoffed, with a roll of his eyes before he they suddenly zoned in on you again “Wait, so how experienced are you?” he asked. “Well I’m not a virgin” Eddie's face fell at that “But!” you interjected before he could say something “If it helps, I’ve never cum that quickly or hard with Steve, or ever really” at that fact Eddie's face broke into a grin “That does help actually” you smiled at him.

[cherrychilli]

MDNI, NSFW, AFAB reader, Steve x Shy reader, inexperienced reader, oral sex(F), light pussy spanking, lil bit fluffy? just a smidge

Very much into the idea of Steve discovering his shy girlfriend's collection of steamy romance novels. I had to add a few lines from the first steamy book I ever read when I realized it was released in the 80's. For funsies and just because it happened to fit well in this little nugget of smut hehe.

On the outside they look just like any other cheesy novel, nothing on the covers that suggested otherwise. Completely ordinary looking with softly colored pictures of sun swept countryside's, flowery English gardens and misty meadows. Steve had never wondered about them, having seen them lined neatly on your shelf for as long as the two of you have been together. Even today, they still hadn't piqued his interest but you were yet to finish your shower and he had grown bored of waiting. He isn't selective when he pulls the nearest book out of its place, not very thick and small in his larger hands. The Bride, he mouths the title, looking and feeling unimpressed. He doesn't bother reading the back, choosing to settle at the foot of your bed and flip through it lazily. He lands on pages at random, face scrunching up at the mentions of highlands and lords and arranged marriages. Not his preferred reading material, he confirmed. He skips further ahead, not giving too much attention to the words until...

She tried to cover her breasts by bringing her knees up and leaning forward. "I don't have any clothes on" she informed him.

Steve paused. He goes back and reads it again, this time more carefully. He then wedged a finger between the pages to keep track of his place, quickly turning the book over to glance at the cover again to see if he'd misremembered it somehow within the last five minutes. It's the same as earlier, completely unchanged from his memory. Sprawling green hills, grazing horses and what looked to be a castle in the distance is all that's pictured. Not the kind of book he'd expected to find mentions of nude women being intruded on. "It can't be", he doubts still, flipping the book back open and reading ahead to see if he was really seeing what he thought he was.

Before she could even think to ask him what in heaven's name he was doing, he had her flat on the bed. She didn't have time to blush...

His brows raise slowly, interest very much piqued now. "Oh Princess", he lets out in a low chuckle, lips stretching into grin.

"Sorry to keep you waiting", you stepped out of the bathroom, smelling of peach scented body wash and dressed in your cotton shorts and pajama top. "What do you want to watch tonight?", you asked the boy who was yet to acknowledge you, only mildly curious to see Steve intently paging through one of your books because you couldn't see the cover with the way it was angled towards his lap.

"How about we read instead?" he lifts up the book to reveal the title to you, his lips pulled into the most smug looking smirk you thought possible.

Your body blazes when realization sinks in, eyes going wide with horror. You never thought to hide any of your raunchy books before. You didn't have all that many to begin with and they blended in seamlessly with the rest with their inconspicuous covers. You didn't see the point of tucking them away, letting them sit on your shelf in plain sight. You realize now that may have been a mistake.

"Sweetheart, you had me all fooled", Steve stared you down, looking so very amused. "Made me think you were some innocent little church mouse and here you are reading about...", he looks down at the book again, reading the first line he sees out loud with the widest grin, "her lips so soft, so pliant and when his tongue finally sank deep inside her warm mouth..."

You release a high pitched squeal, running to him to try and snatch the book away before he can read any more. "Steve no!, put that away!", you yelp helplessly but he holds it above his head and out of your reach with ease, craning his neck to read off another sentence with exaggerated glee, entirely too pleased with the circumstances, "I want to touch you the the way you touch me, please? your body belongs to me as much as my body belongs to you doesn't it?"

"Steeeeve!", you pound your fists on his broad chest, feeling a hundred degrees warmer.

He's laughing still but he takes pity on you then, handing you the book as you take it and clutch it to your chest.

"Baby baby, relax ok?", he places a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, laughter ceasing when he notices the troubled look on your face. "It's no big deal, there's nothing wrong with reading about that stuff, you know that right?". You knew it. Of course you knew it, even if your body betrayed you with a tumbling sense of embarrassment that you had found impossible to shake all your life. You answer with a little sniffle, peering up at him through your lashes. "In fact I'm glad you've opened up to it in a way you're comfortable with. I know when we...try things you're a little reserved", he offered gently.

Your face drops then, worry bubbling inside your belly because the last thing you wanted was for Steve to think that you didn't enjoy yourself with him. "It's not because I don't like it! I do! I really like it when you touch me, Steve!" you jump to reassure him only to reflexively shield your burning face with your hands when you realize how forward your little outburst made you sound. You hear him chuckle in that familiar way that he always did when you worked yourself up, feeling him tug lightly at your hands to pry them away from your face. "That's good because I really like touching you", he lets you know with a tender smile and a quick wink.

You relax a little again, looking at him apologetically, trying to explain. "It's just- I feel.."

"Shy" he finished for you. "I know, baby. I think it's cute", he rubs a thumb over your cheek gently. "And I'm sorry for teasing you", dipping down to place a kiss on your cheek in apology.

You smile for the first time since your stomach flipped at the sight of your not so secret book in Steve's hands. "It's ok", you accept. "I just wish I could be more...you know, assertive? And more vocal about what I like".

He looks down at you thoughtfully, mind working until his eyes light up. "Tell you what. You up for some fun?", he cocks an eyebrow up at you suggestively. "Because your book's given me an idea and I think I could help break you out of your shell a little"

You're more than a little intrigued to find out just what he's come up with. "How?"

"Again", he instructs sternly from between your legs and your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper when his sticky palm connects with your bare cunt again. It's never too hard but it's enough to make you jolt and whine when your swollen clit starts to throb again. "I'm sorry, Stevie", you let out in a shaky voice, breath noticeably shallow. "Go on" he prompts, tracing a finger along your folds. You open your eyes and try to focus on the page, looking for the sentence you stuttered through and struggled to finish. You'd been doing this for close to an hour now, playing the little game he had concocted for you. The rules were straightforward - you needed to read out the sex scenes clearly. No hesitation, no stuttering, no skipping, no mumbling and if you did it properly, he'd eat you out while you read. But if you messed up, he'd have to punish you, spanking you between your legs. You'd messed up a couple of times now, enduring several slaps on your soaked pussy but did notice your inhibitions starting to melt away, even if much of them still remained. Just means you have to keep practicing, right?

Taking in a deep breath, you started reading, keen to have Steve's mouth on you again. "He forced her fingers around his shaft, then thrust his fingers inside her again to rid her of her fear...", your voice starts to tremble as you read on, barely resisting the urge to moan when you feel him lap at your puffy folds again, all sensitive from his skillful tongue and forceful palm. He made it harder for you when he groaned against cunt, teasing your hole, sucking on your clit and flicking it with his tongue but you don't want the feeling to end, gripping the book tight as you continued "she welcomed the rush of blazing ecstasy consuming her..."

[milf-harrington]

[image description: digital art of steve and eddie from stranger things, set out almost like a movie poster.

in the top left, eddie is shown playing air guitar with his tongue poking out. he's dressed in blue shorts and a black shirt with a short sleeve flannel + denim vest combination thrown over top. he's also wearing black converse. "the music guy" is written next to him in red ink with two arrows pointing towards him. his hair is down.

in the bottom right, steve is standing like he's leaning against a wall, one knee bent with his foot crossed in front of the other. he's dressed in short denim shorts and a green and white baseball shirt with the sleeves cut off. he's got white shoes and blue socks. he's saluting lazily. "the jock" is written next to him in blue ink with two arrows pointing towards him.

in the top right corner "steve + eddie" is written in orange capital letters, surrounded by dots and scribbles of various colours: blue, pink, orange and green. in the middle, placed behind the boys, is a pink rectangle splattered with blood. in the bottom left corner "slasher" is written in large yellow capital letters, with the same word written over it again in smaller red letters, designed to look like they're dripping blood. beneath it 'summer camp au' is written in the same red, this time without the drips. there are blood puddles pooled beneath, though. /end id.]

----

here's a little steddie piece inspired by this tiktok my best friend sent me, they literally said "possibly steddie outfit ideas" which i love bc i don't actually even think they ship steddie i just go on about them that often

[starysky1289]

StepSis!Vanessa X reader. Family Gathering.

You pulled up to your mothers house, several cars where parked outside, including Vanessa’s. Your heart fluttered slightly, You and Vanessa had always had a..special relationship for step sisters. You hated being called that though, you both called eachother your ‘ Girlfriends by marriage ‘, obviously no one knew about you two, you were both always good at keeping it secret.

You walked into the house, greeted by your mother first, who hugged you tightly, dragging you into the kitchen to see your cousins and step-family you hadn’t seen in years. A tall, thin man caught your eye, Steven Raglan, your new Step-Father. He eyed you down as you made your way into the living room, studying the people for the pretty blonde.

“ Y/N! How’s my favorite sister! “

Perking up, Vanessa made her way over to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. You smiled brightly, your mother overjoyed in how you two were getting along so well.

“ I’ve been good Vanessa, it’s so good to see you again. “

“ yeah! Hey, wanna go on a walk, go catch up? “

“ sounds perfect! We’ll be back in a bit mom! “

You practically purred, waving to your mom as you and Vanessa went out the back door. As soon as you two were far enough, you slowly held hands, walking down the street. The air was warm and crisp, the changing of seasons was noticeable around here.

“ so, Y/N. You’ve been good right? No one else with you, right? “

“ Never Vanessa. You know I’m good~ “

Vanessa chuckled at your words, pulling you next to her by your waist, rubbing her hand along your ass. You blushed, glancing off slightly embarrassed.

“ don’t you ever worry we’ll get caught, Ness? “

“Sometimes. I mean..it’s wrong, morally, but we arnt related. Plus we have the excuse we talked before the marriage, and we just haven’t gotten over it. But I see what ya mean. “

“ you think people would shun us? “

Vanessa went quiet,glancing up at the sky, before back at you. Her green eyes stared into yours, before she smiled.

“ yeah. But we have eachother, don’t worry about them. “

She held your chin, kissing your gently, you pulled her into you, kissing her back deeply. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, before pulling back, chuckling.

“ you wanna go back and see if we can sneak upstairs real quick~? “

“ can you keep me quiet nessa? “

She smirked, pulling you back to the house. As you made your way back, you snuck back into the house, slipping past a few people, it seemed as if you were free, making your way up before jumping from a voice.

“ where are you two going. “

It was Steve, he leaned in the doorway of the stairs, you both froze, before Vanessa spoke up.

“ well, I’m staying the night, she’s helping me unpack, right? “

“ yeah! We’ve gotta share a room, I might as well help. “

Steve stared at you for a moment, before turning away, walking back into the party. You both exhale, and headed up the stairs, and into your old room. Vanessa pushed you towards the bed, as she closed the door and locked it. You sat down, and pulled Vanessa into your lap, kissing her deeply, letting your tongue clash against eachother.

“ mm..yeah my girl miss my touch? “

“ I did ness , I need you…”

You worked your way through the back of her shirt, trying to unclip her bra. Vanessa pulled your hands out and pinned you to the bed, kissing you again.

“ good girls get rewarded. You can have my tits if you behave, understand? “

“ y-yes Vanessa! “

She began to teasingly pull your pants off, , tossing them away and playing with the fabric on your pussy, you quietly moaned, the anticipation eating you alive.

“ so desperate, i suppose I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer…”

Vanessa quickly slipped her shorts off, as well as her panties, sitting down on your waist, grinding on your thighs.

“ you stay quiet for me ok? Can you stay quiet for me baby~? “

“ y-yes Vanessa, Ill be quiet! “

She smirked, and lowered herself onto your puffy clit, gently gliding across it, you went limp under her, biting down on your lip to keep silent. Her face was determined and focused, but you watched as her bottom lipped quivered, something she did as she felt pleasure.

“ yeah who’s my girl, who’s my bitch…who’s gonna cum with her sister huh~? “

“ I…I am~ i-I’m gonna cum with you…”

“ that’s my girl…”

She pressed down harder, you slowly thrusted your hips against hers, trying anything to help get closer yo your orgasim. Vanessa held you by your throat, squeezing slightly everytime you’d get closer.

“ Vanessa p-please…I’m so close l-let me cum…”

“ just a little longer baby girl…i-I’m close..”

She moved her hand from your throat to hold your hands over your head, kissing you deeply to keep you both quiet as you both speed up, you felt yourself drip, until you both kept your warm cunts on eachother, moaning in the kiss, the feeling of your orgasim made your legs twitch. Vanessa pulled back, panting heavily as she held your hands, her blue eyes half lidded.

“ s..such a good girl Y/N…”

“ y-your p-perfect too Vanessa…”

She chuckled softly, tossing her shirt off and slowly undoing her bra, laying down next to you, positioning herself slightly above your head so you could reach her tits easier. You looked up at her flushed, she gave you a soft smile.

“ go on..y-you earned it baby girl…”

She murmured, running her fingers through your hair, you gently kitten licked her tits, gently rubbing your thumb over one as you sucked the other. Vanessa let out soft little moans, kissing your forehead.

“ hey girls, everything ok? It’s dinner time. “

You both shot up, blushing darkly from embarrassment. It was Steve, he couldn’t know, could he?

“ y-yeah!! One minute, we got carried away, h-hah.. “

You both got up quickly, helping eachother dress, chuckling as Vanessa pulled your hair up to help cover its frizziness. Walking out and hurrying down the stairs, Vanessa leaned over to your ear quickly.

“ love you Y/N.”

“ love you more nessa.”

[sailing-through-hawkins]

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧

"What if - ooh, what about Patricia?"

Robin rolls her eyes, picking at the grass by her ankles. She's tempted to throw some at Steve but she doesn't really wanna see the blades phase through him right now, even if he'll play up his outrage to distract her.

He's been doing that a lot lately. Trying to distract her from the fact that he's - that -

"Okay, okay, hear me out - Chrissy Cunningham."

"The cheerleader?" Robin wrinkles her nose. "Steve."

"It could happen!" Steve says defensively,  sticking his tongue out when Robin gives him her most 'seriously?' face she can muster. "Don't judge a book by its cover, or whatever."

"You're literally meant to do that, that's what the cover's for!"

"Well then, why do people even say that?!"

"I don't know!"

"Is it always like this with you two?" The grouchiest voice cuts through them and Steve spins around in place, floating up even higher so he can stare down at Eddie.

Robin just snorts. "Pretty much."

"Don't be too jealous, Munson," Steve coos, turning himself upside down with a wide grin. "You'll find your soulmate at some point, probably."

"Oh wow, probably," Eddie grouses, and Robin has to bite back a laugh when Steve, still upside down, floats behind him with a silly face stretching out...the scar on his chin. "I am ever so gracious for your faith, oh Generous King."

"This guy's a riot," Steve laughs, poking a finger through Eddie's shoulder and making him jump in place. "Bobbie, can we keep him?"

She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "I'll end up being the one taking care of him if we do."

"I'm right fucking here," Eddie glares at the both of them, which is just prime material to get them snickering. "Whatever, did it work or not?"

And with that, the laughs cut off.

Robin remembers.

Steve's dead.

"Hey," The ghost of Steve floats over to her, sitting down beside her on the grass. "It's okay -"

"It didn't -" Robin chokes out, avoiding Eddie's eye, staring down at the dirt that she's plucked bare of green. "It didn't. They couldn't see."

The air is silent.

"Probably for the best," comes a sigh and Robin feels rage boil through her blood.

"What the hell?" She glares up at Eddie, who holds his hand up in surrender.

"Look, I know you're both desperate to get your little 'Party' up to speed but like...I mean, just look at him." Eddie waves to all of Steve's ghost, who looks more and more affronted with every word Eddie says. "Do you really think it's a good idea for actual children who watched him die to see him again in the exact same get-up? With the same wounds?"

Robin pauses but Steve just glares harder. "Oh sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to go shopping at Ghosts-R-Us and pick a whole new outfit! What, you think I want to be stuck in this uniform? In the shorts?"

Eddie's face goes red and Robin distantly thinks 'serves you right' as the echo of "watched him die" cycles through her brain. "Well I - I don't know, you're a fucking ghost, you should have ghostly powers or something!"

"Have you ever met a ghost before?!"

"Have you?"

"Stop," Robin chokes out and she immediately gets the chills as Steve waves a hand through her shoulder. "Just stop."

She can't feel him, because he's gone. He's gone. He's gone -

"I'm right here, Rob," Steve's voice murmurs to her and she sobs. "I'm always with you, promise."

"I'm so sorry," she cries, burying her face in her hands and curling up, grief pulling down at her heart. "I'm so sorry, Steve -"

"Shh, it's okay, birdie," he says and she almost feels the warmth he should have. "It's not your fault, it's okay."

"I thought - I just - if we tell everyone, maybe they'll know what - how to - I'm sorry -"

"Wasn't your fault, Bucks," Eddie says gruffly, sitting down next to her roughly. "Just what happens sometimes. That kinda shit...'s out of our control."

She sniffles, burying her hand deeper into her own skin, hoping it'll suffocate the tears out of her, or maybe make her pass out so she doesn't have to think about all of it for a bit, or scratch away the endless void of pain inside her chest -

"Birdie, hey, look at me."

She doesn't.

"Robin."

She can't.

"Please?"

With another choked out sob, she looks up to see Steve Harrington, smiling at her like he never left. Like she didn't leave him.

"No matter what happened, or what happens," he says softly, nearly see-through fingers trying to brush her hair out of her face. Maybe she should get bangs. "I'm always with you, Robs. Not even until death do us part. Platonic soulmates for the rest of time."

She wails and shoves her face into his shoulder, not even caring if she passes through him. A hand pats her back, probably Eddie's, and she sobs louder because why did he get to see Steve? Why did she force him to know? Why couldn't they just be happy?

"Woah, how the hell -"

Robin blinks.

She's sobbing into Steve's shoulder. He's patting her back.

She quickly moves back and stares, Steve's own surprised face staring back, no bruises or scars or Scoops uniform in sight.

"What -"

And in a snap, his face turns back to battered and the warm red sweater he was wearing just a second ago turns back into the bright blue sailor shirt. His hair loses its fluff and goes back to that sad, wiry, bloodied mop.

He changed.

"So you do have ghost powers!" Eddie says triumphantly, as Steve sputters.

"I guess?!" He looks down at his hands, reaching out to touch Robin's fingers, but all she feels is the cold. "How did - why did it stop?"

With one last sniffle, she cups the air around his fingers and looks up at the both of them, her Steve and their spontaneously adopted Eddie (in retrospect, maybe they are weirdo magnets? Better think about that later). She says, with as much determination as she can muster, "This isn't over. We're getting you back."

[superblysubpar]

hi! figured i’d send in a little prompt if that’s okay, hope your writer’s block gets a little better :))

82. “I’ve been so horny all day.” for Steve if that’s alright! (up to you whether he or reader is saying it teehee)

ty in advance and have a lovely day <3

“You’re doing it again.”

Steve’s huff of breath leaves his nose loudly, glancing out of the corner of your eye, you find him banging his forehead lightly against the door frame. He mumbles something that sounds like sorry and spins on his heels, his socked feet slipping on the hardwood floors as the blue shirt disappears around the corner. Your mouth twists as you do your best to ignore his ass in the tight green athletic shorts.  

His woodsy cologne lingers, just as it has all day upon every interruption, mixing with the candle you have lit that’s supposed to smell like rain and autumn leaves. Remnants of your grilled cheese Steve brought you hours ago crumble on a plate, your fingers reach for an open bag of Sour Patch Kids as you click and unclick your pen. Popping a green one in your mouth, your lips pucker as you hum around the tart candy, highlighting a quote. 

Tangerine squares paint the floor of your living room, slanting and elongating more and more as the sun shifts, you smile at another quote from the director, making a comment in your notebook as you sit up. Propped onto your knees now, you quietly sing along to Frank Sinatra as your fingers hover over the piles of papers littered around you, searching for one in particular to make another note on. 

Steve can’t fucking take this. 

He leans against the center island of the kitchen, watching as your nose wrinkles when you go back to reading. You tap the pen to your lips as they move, reading out loud to yourself as your eyebrows furrow together. You're lit up in oranges and golds, his shirt and a pair of biker shorts so how could anyone blame him when he returns to the living room after barely five minutes since you told him he was doing it again. 

This time, as he quietly enters, you don’t say anything, eyes bouncing between the book and where your pen moves rapidly across the lined paper. 

Steve’s presence is all consuming, especially when he sits on you. His legs straddle your hips, thumbs softly rubbing at your lower spine and your head falls forward in a moan and he bites the inside of his cheek behind you at the sound. Steve presses a little harder, massaging up your spine as you go back to reading. 

The vinyl record crackles, Steve’s humming mixing with the scratch of your pen. You reach your fingers over your shoulder, holding a blue candy up to him - his favorite and your least - as you start telling him all about something you’re excited for in class. You light up when you talk about your project, about future ones, about an interesting fact you just read and so really, truly, no one can blame him for what he does next. 

Steve’s lips brush behind your ear, his nose skimming down the curves of it as his hands grip at your hips. Your breathy gasp of air is the only encouragement he needs to take it further. He nips at the dip of your neck where it meets the collar of his shirt, mumbling into your skin, “You’re so hot, you’ve been driving me crazy. I’ve been so horny all day.”

Your laugh makes his lips twitch against your shoulder blade, he whines at your teasing and the layer of fabric between him and your skin, “Babe.”

“I’m sorry, Steve, I had no idea unwashed hair and studying did it for you.” You pop another candy in your mouth, trying your best to ignore the way he feels against your ass. 

He squeezes at your sides, fingers curling around your hip and he tugs lightly, huffing out of his nose again. “You’re so focused, and smart, and passionate, and you look so cute when you’re singing,” he kisses over and over, up and down your neck, smiling as you tuck your chin down and squirm underneath him, “And you did that little dance when I brought you food, and I heard you in here grumbling about too many blue ones too yourself and-”

“Well there are too many blue ones.” You frown, biting your lip as his fingers roam higher against your side, warm pads pressing lightly to your soft skin. 

Steve smiles and only hums in response, feeling how you circle your hips back against him. He’s not even sure you realize you did it and he knows you’re just as worked up as he is. Your yelp is cute when he smacks one of your ass cheeks, grabbing as much as he can as he groans in fake annoyance, “And then, you’re lying here all damn day, with this ass in the air. What’s a guy to do, huh?”

Your giggle cuts off as he ruts himself into you, hands sliding up and up and up until his weight is against your back. His fingers run down your arms, lacing with yours as he presses them down into the soft carpet. Steve rolls his hips, lips soft against your temple and then your cheek as your eyelashes flutter closed. 

“Hmm?” He hums into your jaw, “I asked you a question, pretty girl, gonna answer me?”

Steve’s breath is hot against your neck, one of his hands releases yours, traveling back down your body, skimming the band of your shorts and tugging, snapping it against your hip as he pushes himself into your ass harder. 

“St-Steve.” Your back arches as his name leaves you in a breath, your cheek presses to the carpet, exposing more of your neck for him to assault with this tongue and teeth. 

He nips at your ear, thick fingers pushing past the lace he finds as his hand curls around to your front. He chuckles into your hair as his fingers meet your slit, wet for him already. His tone condescending, “I don’t think that answered my question, what’s the matter babe? A little kissing and teasing and that big brain is already empty, yeah?”

Your clit throbs at his words, fingers curling and gripping for purchase in the threads of the carpet. The whine that leaves your lips is pathetic, rolling your hips back in search for more. 

His hand is gone faster than you can respond, both on your waist and flipping you before your eyes are blinking up at him dazed. Steve’s hands hold yours above your head, both of your chests heaving as he hovers over your lips. He ruts himself into you and you know that asshole isn’t wearing boxers. His length barely separated from where you both want it, twitches against you, felt through the thin layers. 

His mouth parts yours softly, tongue slipping over yours a little filthy. Rolls of hips and noses nudged into cheeks, he kisses you like he’s wanted to all day. He only pulls away when he needs air, smiling as you whine and loop your hands around his neck, lifting and following him. 

His hair falls over his forehead, the orange and pink sunset coming in cuts across his eyes making them golden, his cheeks a complimenting tint that grows darker as he takes in your face too. He lets his top lip skim your bottom one again in a soft and brief pass, hands squeezing at your waist. Who’s he kidding, teasing you and trying to be all suave - Steve doesn’t even remember his middle name with the way you’re looking at him. 

His breath falls against your lips as he pleads rather than commands. 

“Can I fuck you so good all the studying you did today was for nothing?”

[thissortofsorcery]

It’s just a green Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt, kind of old, color already faded after too many washes, lumpy on the armpits from being used too many times.

Billy makes it look brand new.

Even sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed, eyes fixed on the window, with the line of his spine hunched with the weight of what he ran from, of why he came to Steve tonight, he looks beautiful. His hair is damp from the shower, curling around his ears and his neck, and his bare toes are digging into the carpet. In the soft light of Steve’s bedroom, in Steve’s old sweatshirt, Billy looks almost delicate.

Steve loves him so much, he doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes.

“Hey,” Steve says, from the bedroom door, and Billy turn to him. He doubts the thoughts Billy was lost in were good, so he doesn’t mind breaking him out of them. “Found you some cigarettes, if you want them.”

Billy arrived at Steve’s in workout clothes, just a tank top and shorts, shivering with dried sweat and with a bloody lip. It looked like he didn’t have time to grab anything but his keys.

Billy lights a cigarette as soon as Steve hands the pack over. It’s cute how he goes straight to the window and opens it, blowing the smoke out into the night air, like Steve minds. His hands are shaking a little, still, and he’s jiggling his foot where one leg is crossed over the other, leaning against the wall.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says, like he does every time. He sits on the bed where Billy was. “It’s fine.”

Billy’s eyes flick to Steve, from where he was staring out the window again. His face is set in a deep frown, with that awful crease between his eyebrows that means his head went somewhere shitty. He takes a deep drag from the cigarette, but his hand misses his mouth once before he gets it right. Billy doesn’t say anything, but he pushes away from the wall and starts to pace.

“Are you hungry?” Steve asks, and starts bouncing his own knee. He tries to think of what food he has in the fridge. “I can make you a grilled cheese. Or I have leftover pasta, if you want.”

“No,” Billy says quietly, even if his expression would demand him to shout. Smoke comes out of his mouth, of his nostrils, and Steve pictures it coming out of his ears, almost, like a pissed off cartoon character. Except he knows when Billy looks his angriest it’s because he’s the most sad. “No, I had dinner.”

Steve watches him pace. Thinks of what else he can offer, how else he can fix it even knowing he can’t actually fix it. He wants to hug Billy, to hold him, but being still isn’t what Billy needs right now.

He’s pacing the room like a caged animal, going from the dresser to the nightstand and pulling on the cigarette. For once, the wallpaper in Steve’s room seems fitting.

“Steve?” A crackle comes from the nightstand, and both of their heads snap toward it. “Steve, come in. It’s Max. Over.”

Both Steve and Billy lunge to grab the walkie, and Steve only takes it because he was closest. Billy hovers by his side, staring at the walkie anxiously.

“This is Steve. Max, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Is Billy with you?” The walkie crackles again, and Billy’s face goes slack, eyes closed. Relieved.

“Yeah, he’s right here. He’s alright,” Steve says, and Billy huffs, like they’re being dumb for worrying about him.

Billy grabs the walkie from Steve’s hand, “Max, you okay?”

Steve thinks any other thirteen year old would be annoyed to be asked that twice, but Max just says,

“Yeah, I’m in my room. I told them I was going to sleep,” They both go silent for a while, then Max says, “Are you really okay?”

Billy shoots a glance at Steve, moves only to tangle their fingers together briefly.

“I’m good, shitbird. I’m gonna spend the night at Steve’s,” Billy says. “Same as usual for school tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Max says, and she sounds calmer, but still subdued. “I’ll grab your bag and stuff.”

Billy lets out a long sigh, shoulders slumped, and presses the walkie hard on his forehead for a second.

“Thanks, Max. Night.”

“Bye, Billy.”

The walkie clatters on the desk, and Billy puts out the cigarette bud on the ashtray Steve got for him ages ago. Where he was almost vibrating before, now Billy is too still, almost dragged down, like he ran out of gas and rolled to a stop on the side of the road. Steve hates to see him like this. Billy should always be full of energy, full of life.

Steve approaches slowly, makes sure his steps make sound, and lays a hand on Billy’s back. He leans back into it right away, so Steve plasters himself against Billy, runs his hands down his arms, lets his hair tickle Billy’s ear.

“What do you need?” Steve says, laying a kiss on Billy’s shoulder. “How can I help?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says, almost a groan. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, hiding his face. “Can we just-”

He cuts himself off, like he doesn’t know what he means. Steve thinks he does, though, Steve knows Billy, has seen him rage and cry and laugh a hundred different ways since November. Has been by his side for a good portion of it.

So he takes Billy’s hand and leads him to the bed, gets in after him and pulls the covers over them both. Billy rolls into Steve immediately, tucks his face into Steve’s neck and breathes in, and Steve runs his fingers over Billy’s scalp to help him relax. To make him sigh.

“You look great in that sweatshirt,” Steve says, out of nowhere, out of a desire to make this moment theirs and talk about stupid stuff. “I like seeing you in my clothes.”

Billy’s breath hitches, and his fingers squeeze Steve’s waist, but he doesn’t say anything. Steve runs his fingers down Billy’s spine, shifts his head to lay a kiss on Billy’s hair, on his temple.

“I mean, you look good in anything,” Steve says, voice so quiet it’s almost a murmur. “But when I came in and I saw you… You’re so beautiful, Billy.”

“You trying to get in my pants, Harrington?” Billy’s voice comes from Steve’s neck, muffled. He doesn’t move.

“I’m serious,” Steve laughs, “Do you even know what a catch you are?”

“Of course I am,” Billy mumbles. “Sex on wheels.”

That’s not what Steve meant. He runs a hand down Billy’s arms until their hands meet, laces their fingers together. His lips kiss from Billy’s temple to his brow, and he speaks against his forehead:

“I meant more like how great you are,” Steve says. When Billy huffs, he continues, “You’re so, so smart.”

“Shut up,” Billy says.

“And you’re a smartass but you’re actually hilarious about it. You make me laugh so much,” Steve kisses the bridge of Billy’s nose, his eyelids, his cheekbone. “You’re honest. You’re dependable. When you want something, you give your whole self to it.”

Steve can hear Billy’s breath shake, and his eyes are closed. He rubs their noses together, says against his mouth, “I really feel like I can trust you, Billy.”

“Steve,” Billy breathes, and when he opens his eyes they’re wet, spilling over the bridge of his nose and onto his temple.

“And you’re good,” Steve says, “You’re a good person.”

Billy squeezes his eyes shut, and presses his forehead to Steve’s, breathing against him, fingers tangled together close to their chests.

“Smelled like you,” Billy says, “the sweatshirt.”

Oh.

Warmth spills in Steve’s chest like a fountain, like smoke from Billy’s lips, filling it with happiness until there’s no room for his lungs to expand. He rubs his nose along Billy’s cheek, presses a path of kisses until he finds the center of his lips. Kisses him gently, unhurried.

“I love you,” Steve says. “You know that. Right?”

“Yeah, pretty boy. I know,” Billy says, and his smile is small but it’s blinding. “Love you too.”

every time anti bullshit shows up on my dash, I write Steve loving on Billy | II

[little-annie]

Okay, so, with Dustin and Robin checked off the list, now they're left to tell the remaining members of The Party.

El, Max, Lucas, Mike and Will.

And truthfully, they aren't that worried anymore.

Although their telling Robin and Dustin didn't go as planned, neither time was traumatic or generally all that eventful. So really, sitting here in the Harrington house once again with five sets of eyes on them, they aren't as nervous as they once figured they'd be. Sure the whole coming out thing is still scary, but they honestly feel like they don't need to be so scared anymore.

Dustin and Robin are sitting there with knowing expressions; impatiently waiting, exuding some form of guard dog energy like they'll pounce if anyone has anything ill mannered to say.

But again, they aren't very concerned about something like that happening.

They're good kids.

They're, their good kids.

So, they're sitting close, thighs touching, Eddie's arm around the back of the couch, occasionally playing with Steve's hair. No one's really paying them any mind. Yeah, maybe they get the occasional glance from Will or the rare one from Mike, but other than that, the boys are just bickering about something D&D related while Max and El whisper and giggle about lord knows what.

Robin's waiting and so is Dustin. They know today's plan and with that they've been occasionally glancing at the pair, waiting for the reveal.

They do actually have a plan for today, believe it or not. It's nothing spectacular but it's a simple action that's sure to get the job done.

See, Steve's not very good with words and well, Eddie tends to be a little too forward, a little too vulgar or a little too animated and in a situation like this, they just need something simple.

And simple is Steve turning to Eddie, nosing against his cheek and placing a gentle peck on his boyfriend's now rosy skin.

The moment it happens the mounting screaming match around them ceases, all bickering is suddenly silent, forgotten, dead quiet.

There's eyes on them now and when Eddie returns the affection with a smiling kiss to Steve's cheek, everyone's jaw drops.

Well, except for Robin's and Dustin's. They're absolutely beaming with pride.

And after a beat, then two, then three, it's an eruption of overlapping questions and statements coming not so quietly from the group in front of them.

"Fucking finally"

"I knew it! Told you Mike, hand it over, ten bucks!"

"You…You can….But Steve dated Nancy…"

"It's called Bi-Sexual you dumbass. You can like both"

"...both"

"Congratulations!"

It's just short of utter chaos in the room. Well, except for two. Will's quiet, very quiet actually and red in the cheeks, glancing between Mike and the pair cuddled up on the couch. Whereas Mike's uncharacteristically quiet, only whispering words, staring down into the carpet, flushing white and looking a little green around the gills.

Then of course, amongst everything else, Max has to pipe up, shouting and cackling from her seat across the room, "Just don't get Steve pregnant!"

Well, and that seems to set the mood.

Once again the room erupts with sheer volume, though this time, in laughter. The kids are all cackling, Robin almost immediately in tears, wiping her eyes, pointing mockingly at Steve as he sits there in horror that that seems to be everyone's reaction to this situation, 'Don't get Steve pregnant.'

"What about Eddie! Huh-" Steve sits upright, hands up in offence, "What about 'don't get Eddie pregnant'?"

The volume in the room dies down, but hardly. Everyone's wiping tears from their eyes, trying to catch their breath or choking back their still bubbling laughter when Robin adds in her two cents, "Steve. Babe, you're obviously the mother in this situation."

"And Eddie's the dad." Dustin plainly states like it's a well known fact… and maybe it is, by the way everyone around them nods in all seriousness.

Mildly offended, brow furrowed, Steve can feel Eddie lean in closer, lips hovering over his ear as he whispers, smirk evident in his tone, "Oh, am I your Daddy, Stevie?"

And good Christ, this isn't the time or the place for shit like this. Steve can feel his cheeks flush and a very unwanted knot coil in his gut before he slaps Eddie away and grumbles through grit teeth, "Shut up, you know we don't do that."

Eddie only snickers, falling back into his previous position on the couch, giving Steve's thigh a quick squeeze in the process.

"I don't care if you two are just fooling around or you're in love, but whatever that,-" Max motions to where Steve has pulled a pillow into his lap and has flushed a deep shade of red," -is, is not happening anywhere around me. Keep it in your pants when you're not in the bedroom. Gross." She grimaces at her own words before adding, "But like, congratulations I guess. We love you both"

Everyone nods along. Mike's still very quiet, nearly burning holes into the side of Will's head with his eyes as everyone carries on with their questioning.

"So like, what is this really? Are you dating?"

"Are you in love?"

"You haven't done it on this chair have you?"

And the questions kept coming, to which the boys answered to the best of their ability before getting interrupted by another stream of inquiries.

It'd been thirty minutes before everyone settled down, resuming their previous conversations like the reveal of Steve and Eddie's relationship wasn't a big deal.

But they suppose, maybe it wasn't. Maybe they did an alright job at parenting these kids part time for them to be actual decent human beings. They're in a safe space, surrounded by people who love and respect them. Maybe they didn't have to be so scared in the first place.

The only thing Steve has to be scared of is his apparent new nickname in the hands of one Dustin Henderson,

"Hey Mom, can we go to the arcade?"

[racetrackthehiggins]

rental return

ficlet based on this post by @callmeloverr​! read here or on ao3

Fall '85

Two hours.  Two entire hours Eddie had been sitting outside Family Video with his hand caught in the video return slot, waiting for anyone to show up and open the fucking store.  His fingers felt swollen and were throbbing but his rings were caught on the slot and his fingers were trapped clutching the copy of This Is Spinal Tap he had been hoping to return on his way to school.

And now it had been two hours, Eddie was late for class, and he had to fucking piss.

Several people had opened their car windows as they drove by to jeer and laugh, but so far no one had decided to like, help—which is exactly what Eddie should have fucking expected from Hawkins, but it didn’t make it suck any less.

Finally, finally someone drove up to Family Video.  From his position sitting on the ground, he saw the green vest before he saw who was wearing it.  Just his fucking luck.  Of course it was Steve Harrington and not that geeky band girl, or the dorky guy (who may have been in Eddie’s original graduating class, but really who could remember at this point?)

Harrington stopped short in front of him and gave Eddie a withering look.  He looked much worse than Eddie had ever seen him, bags under his eyes and hair deflated.  He opened his mouth to say something, looked Eddie up and down, and then shook his head.  “Need some help there, Munson?”

“Harrington, your highness.”  Eddie made an extravagant gesture with his arm.  “Please excuse my impropriety—I would bow, but I’m a little indisposed at the moment.”

Harrington narrowed his eyes at Eddie for a moment and then he snorted, shaking his head again.  “Yeah, whatever.  You need a hand?”

Eddie nodded emphatically.  “Yeah, man.  Take your polaroid or whatever, because I’ve been stuck here for like two hours, and I need to piss like a racehorse.  And also it’s like…third period.”

“Oh yeah, Henderson said you were still working towards that diploma.”  The mention of their shared friend only served to make Eddie feel even more self-conscious.  All Dustin could talk about was how cool Steve was, and how brave and badass, and here was Eddie, defeated by a video return slot.  “Let me just—”

Harrington pointed his thumbs towards the door, and unlocked it, not bothering to flip the sign to open.  Eddie took a moment to pray that Harrington wasn’t actually going to get a camera, but he’d take it if Harrington would help him out.  A moment later, Eddie felt the video being tugged out of his hand.  It hurt like a bitch to let go; immediately some of the blood rushed back into his fingers, hot and painful and throbbing.

“Fuck!” Eddie swore, pounding his other fist on his thigh.  Jesus fucking Christ that hurt.

“Sorry!” Harrington called through the slot, like he cared or something.   “Yeesh, your fingers are super red, dude.  I think I need to take your rings off to get your hand out, that okay?”

Eddie slammed his head back into the window in defeat.  “Yeah, man, whatever it takes.  Take off my rings, slather me in oil, I don’t care.  As previously established, I got places to be, bathrooms to use.”

Harrington snorted another laugh.  It was weird, Eddie distinctly remembered King Steve’s terrible hyena laugh, him and Tommy H. cackling like assholes as Eddie was tripped in the hall, but Harrington’s laugh seemed so subdued now.  He seemed so subdued, like all the asshole had been sucked out of him with a bendy straw.

“Is that movie any good?” Harrington asked neutrally, pulling on a ring.   It was one of Eddie’s chunkier ones, and it wasn’t budging.  Eddie prayed (again) that the oil wouldn’t actually become necessary.  Asshole or no, Eddie was not immune to hot men holding lubricant.

He was momentarily distracted with an image of Steve Harrington positively glistening with baby oil and it took him a moment to realize Harrington was prompting him again.  “I’m sorry?”

“The movie?  Spinal Tap or whatever?  Henderson said it was good but some of Henderson’s taste is…”

“Questionable,” Eddie finished with a laugh.  The ring came off all at once and Eddie had to take a deep breath to keep from yelling.  Fuck, that hurt.

“Yeah, questionable.  Sorry.”

Harrington’s fingers moved to the next ring, and Eddie was deeply preoccupied with the image of Steve Harrington on his knees worshiping at Eddie’s rings. His dick made a little confused twinge and Eddie smacked himself in the thigh again in the hopes that would do anything, but his dick seemed determined to persevere.  Jesus, he needed to get laid.  “Yeah, it’s a good time.  Very funny, if you like comedies.”

Another ring came off and Eddie swore again.  

“Two more,” Harrington said cheerfully, like Eddie didn’t know how many rings he had on.  Harrington’s fingers were strong and also kind of soft, and moved over Eddie’s fingers like they knew each other, like this wasn’t a weird thing for two virtual strangers with mostly shared animosity to be stuck doing.

“Thanks,” Eddie replied sarcastically, but immediately felt bad when Harrington responded with a genuine sounding, “No problem.”  Oh god, was Eddie the asshole in this situation?  Would wonders never cease?

The last two took a little muscle and featured Harrington making some truly pornographic noises, and Eddie was probably going to hell for sexualizing his rescuer, but that was the purview of a damsel in distress, wasn’t it?  Besides it was sort of intimate, in a fucked up way, and Harrington’s hands were…distracting to say the least.

“All done!”

Eddie pulled his hand through the slot slowly.  It was red and bruised, but probably no permanent damage.  He wondered if he was getting his rings back, or if Harrington was going to keep them as some sort of Embarrassed The Freak trophy.  “Awesome.  Very good customer service, I’ll be sure to tell your boss.”  Harrington snorted again.  “Do you have a bathroom I can use before I turn the side of your building into one?”

“Gross,” Harrington muttered, like Eddie (and all of Hawkins High) hadn’t caught the basketball team collectively pissing on the side of the gym like some sort of terrible bonding ritual.  He opened the door for Eddie, though, locking it behind them.  He extended his hand with Eddie’s rings on it like a platter.  “Here are your evil satan rings.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said, grabbing them and shoving them into his pocket.  Maybe he’d take a break from rings today.  “Evil satan rings are expensive to replace.  But again, and I cannot stress this enough, bathroom?”

That surprised a full laugh out of Harrington.  “This way, you freak.”  It was the same insult it had always been, but it sounded almost fond?   Eddie didn’t know what to do with that.  Maybe the two hours baking in the sun while he waited to be rescued had given him heat stroke or something.  Steve unlocked the back room and gestured to the bathroom.   “I’m making coffee, want any?”

Eddie bolted to the bathroom, and took care of business at light speed.  It was surprisingly neat for a bathroom used primarily by two men, but maybe that was band girl’s influence.  Or hell, maybe Harrington was secretly a neat freak.  

“Nah.”  Eddie walked out of the bathroom wiping his hand on paper towels, and watching Harrington measure Folgers into the same piece of shit coffee maker that Eddie and Wayne used.  It was jarring to see King Steve so used to a cheap ass product.  It was incongruous with who Eddie knew Steve to be.  Probably his coffee maker at home was like, solid gold or something.  Or no, wait—didn't gold melt easily?  “Gotta get to school.”

Steve glanced at the clock.  “Dude, you’ve already missed like, half of third period.  Just have a cup of coffee and skip it.”  Well, when he put it that way.  Eddie nodded and Steve scooped a few more plastic spoonfuls of coffee into the pot.  “How do you take it?”

“Up the ass,” Eddie said sweetly, completely unable to stop himself.  “Oh, do you mean my coffee?”

Eddie was a little surprised that the only reaction that elicited was a roll of the eyes.  “Yes, your coffee, dude, what the fuck.”

“Black is fine.”  Black was very much not fine, but that seemed like overly personal information for Harrington to have.  Eddie had already revealed a movie he liked, this would be too much.  

Harrington fixed him with another withering look, hands on his hips, and yeah, Dustin had done a great job describing that look, and yes, it did make Eddie feel slightly ashamed, despite the fact he was several years older than King Steve.  “Okay, I know that isn’t true, because when it was Dustin’s turn to bring snacks to your hell club, he wanted to bring something sweet because he was trying to suck up to you, and apparently your sweet tooth is legendary.  And I know this, because Dustin has never baked anything in his life, and my cookies are like, life-changing.”

Eddie spent a long moment staring at the coffee pot and clenching his teeth.  Dustin, that little rat bastard, had revealed his weakness to the enemy—and not only that, the enemy did make life-changing cookies.  “Like four sugars and some milk,” Eddie said after a moment, still not making eye contact with Harrington.  If Harrington knew things about him—what?  This wasn’t high school anymore, it’s not like Harrington could hurt him socially. Hell, it wasn’t like Eddie could even really be hurt socially anymore, he was at the bottom of the food chain.

Maybe it just made Harrington seem like a human, if they knew info about each other.  Less like the platonic ideal of shitty preppy rich kid, and more like a worn out former classmate who seemed stuck in a dead end job.

“You got it.”  The coffee pot sputtered to a stop, and Harrington made them both coffees in shitty styrofoam cups.  He handed Eddie’s to him carefully and then extended his cup for, what?  A clink?  Eddie obliged him, feeling entirely bewildered, and Steve smiled at him.

No, stop that.   Not Steve, Harrington.  

“Cheers,” he said weakly, and took a swig of the coffee.  It was standard shitty fare, but it was what Eddie had at home, too.  Harrington had done a good job with it, and Eddie wished he had been paying attention to how Harrington had done his own cup.  Just so the scales would be balanced on personal coffee knowledge.

“What do you have third period?”

None of your business, he thought.  “Mrs. Click,” Eddie moaned instead, drowning his sorrows in more coffee.  “She’s trying to fail me so hard.”  He wasn’t sure why he was sharing any of this shit with Harrington, but he was here, so…

“Yeah, she’s a total bitch.”  Harrington looked like he wanted to say something else, when there was suddenly a pounding at the door.  They both spun to look at the glass door in alarm, but Harrington’s weight shifted like he was preparing for a fight, which was…odd.  To Eddie’s knowledge, Steve had barely had fights and hadn’t won any of them.

It was some old woman who was yelling through the gap in the door, “Excuse me!  It’s 11:30!  The door says 11!  I need to rent a video.”

Steve’s shoulders dropped and he chugged the rest of his coffee.  “Sorry, duty calls.”  He started walking back into the store proper.

Eddie waved him off, finishing his too, and followed on Steve’s heels.  “Thank you, m’lord.  For the help.”  Eddie did fall into a dramatic bow this time, and Steve laughed again.  

“Asshole.  Try not sticking your entire hand in there next time.  Just the video will do.”

Eddie saluted, and wow, he was laying it on a little thick, even for him.   “Got it.  Let me know if you need any…goods and/or services.  Discounts offered for services rendered.”

Steve was shaking his head in some combination of bafflement and amusement.  “Dude, you sound so much like Henderson.  Get to class, Munson.”

Eddie waited for Steve to unlock the door and made a beeline for his van.  A thoroughly weird morning, but at least it was the weirdest thing that could possibly happen to him this year.  Small mercies, etc.

[sunnysideprincess]

Last few days have been wild lol, had a cystectomy, finally met my cousin's husband and now people are asking me to get married and have a baby before "it's too late", so I wrote this instead of punching them

no actual cheating happens here

Steve Rogers is a respectable married man. But he's called in by Virginia Potts, told Tiberus Stone's husband needs a bodyguard and it's fine, he's fine. He can take the heat of a family known to sell weapons to death and destruction. Except the husband is Tony fucking Stark, a man who is so obviously trapped. A trophy for Tiberus like his mother was to his father. And while Stone gets to sleep around, Tony's kept on a chokehold by his own father, uncle and husband. He's a writhing chrysalis trying to evolve, trying to break free. And Steve is helplessly in love with those furious doe eyes looking at him with all the rage as he stops him from trying to sneak away. Again and again. But he is also in love with his husband for seven years. So there's nothing to be found here.

"It's for your own safety," he tries to tell Tony. But the man won't listen. He throws a punch, two. Accuses him for being his husband's spy. Steve assures him he's not. He tells him Miss Potts picked him. And that pulls Tony up short. Leeches the anger out and leaves sharp confusion instead.

"Pepper sent you?" And Steve is a respectable married man. But if those eyes don't stop looking at him with all the curious wonder of a predator, he doesn't know what would happen. All he knows is that he'll end up long buried.

There's a change. Where Tony's rage and struggle pulled Steve in like a depraved blackhole, his gentleness and wit tethers something inside Steve. Keeps him coming back. Tony is a genius. But he's not a psychopath like Stone, not a greedy bastard like Stane, not a businessman like his father. He has hopes and dreams that could save the world. He sees a future that's bright and green. And Steve is a respectable married man headed for ruin.

Steve tells Bucky he would be late. He tells him he's got priorities and his husband says nothing, just nods and kisses his cheek.

He should have known.

He finds Bucky beside James Rhodes, doned up in his Soldier regalia.

"I'm assigning Barnes to Tony's guard."

"We have Rogers."

"Well we've also got Ten Rings coming after him."

There's that. Even Howard Stark doesn't want his son dead. And though there's an ugly scowl on Stane's face he doesn't like, Steve is more worried about deciphering Bucky's blank stare and the gentle flex of his metal limb.

Things go differently this time around. Tony meets Bucky not with fury, but a gentle curiousity. Like he's trying to peek through the icy winds of a storm. He picks and prods at him like a cat sniffing a new scratch post. Asks about the arm. About the metal. About the joints. And the connectors. But never about how he lost the weighted piece of flesh in the first place.

Steve is torn between pulling them apart and asking Bucky to say something.

But Bucky has his back to him. And Tony's eyes are sharp as ever.

"You're lucky my Rhodeybear warned me about you. Or you would gotten the same treatment as him."

Steve can put it on paper. He won't even have to look to know Bucky's interest at that. He always loves it when someone shoves at Steve's immovable strength.

"I punched him. Twice," Tony explains, and like an automated machine Steve defends himself.

"It didn't hurt."

Bucky snorts, shakes his head and throws him a look which tucks the message home. We'll talk later.

"You came back all bruised like a peach."

"Oh," Tony breathes and then blushes. "Well, that's an image."

"I want him," he mourns to Bucky on the sparring mat. Once Bucky has beaten him senseless, gotten the rage of betrayal out of his system. Once Steve learns that he is a respectable married man. But he can learn to be not. "I want him for both of us."

It takes time. Bucky is wary. Skittish around this other guy.

There is Stane and his obvious displeasure. There is Ten Rings and their looming threat. There is Tony himself, pulling away, haunted by a sad, guilty shadow.

"I'm married. And so are you." There is that and more under. There is Stone and his pride. Bruises marking Tony's skin. There is rage boiling up inside Steve, checked by a cold press of Bucky's hand over his neck.

There is too much. And too little.

But when Bucky falls, Steve isn't there. He is trapped behind the rubble after someone blew up the building. He is trapped and worried about the old lady with him, calling for her son and her daughter, bleeding from her torso.

He isn't there. Yet when he gets home, Bucky is there with his fury and rage, his eyes dark and lips warm as he lunges at Steve.

"He's a fucking idiot," he snarls and Steve grins. "He's gonna get himself killed!"

After, Bucky tells him the story.

"He just fucking jumped in after the kid. Wearing a goddamn tom ford suit like it's armor. Ten Rings wanted him alive so of course they stopped shooting. Only saving grace is that I was there. Picked them off one by one."

"And now?"

"Fuck you, Rogers."

"You already did."

"Shut up. We gotta genius to save."

Now, Steve and Bucky are both respectable married men. But they are also known to be a little bit rotten on the inside.