#brotp: part of you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carolmunson · 11 months

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always something there to remind me (s.h.)

summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.

tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops

His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.

It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."

You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.

He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."

Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.

You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'

"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."

"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.

He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.

"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time.

Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.

A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must��ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’ ‘And? It’s my meat.’

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"

“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste.

The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half. "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"

Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.

A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."

"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'

The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."

Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"

You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.

"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."

"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.

"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."

"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"

"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."

"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.

"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.

"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."

You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides.

“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week.

You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."

His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.”

His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."

His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.

"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"

You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.

"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.

"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"

He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."

"Steve."

"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."

"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."

"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."

"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.

"Everything good?" she asks.

You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."

She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.

"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."

Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."

"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down. “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.”

He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.

You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.

His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge.

Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.

“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.”

You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy.

“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts between statements.

“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?”

You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.

“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?”

“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.”

“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?”

“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn.

“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?”

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled.

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo. “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.”

thanks for reading. <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

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fumifooms · 3 months

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Hi hi! I'm sure you have loads of asks to get through. But if you may, we talk a lot about Chilchuck and Marcille (as we should 'cause they're great!), but since you've mentioned that Laios is your fave char, I would love to hear if you have any takes on Laios and Izutsumi's dynamic. I feel sometimes like she doesn't really like him...? It's funny but I also feel bad for him sometimes. ^^;;

You can’t ask me this and expect me to not drop everything else I’m doing. Little did you know they are my brotp. They are so special. Izutsumi gets along more with literally everyone in the party, but their relationship was so narratively important. They’re a really underrated and overlooked dynamic! I’ve had them as a topic at the back of my mind for a while, seeing someone else interested was all the push I needed gdbdg. This isn’t super long though, their issues with each other and lil arc is surprisingly brief and easy to summarize.

Laios & Izutsumi : what’s their deal with each other

For me one foundational train of thought for Izutsumi & Laios is, well. I read this awesome smart post deconstructing how Izutsumi’s beef with Laios is because she only just broke free and wants freedom without having someone ordering her around, and that’s sort of her whole character arc, isn’t it?

Isn’t Izutsumi’s picky eating a reflection of just that? In a life where she was a slave, she could at least control what she chose to eat and not eat. But then you might wonder, why did the narrative want her to grow out of that? Simply put, Izutsumi has a contrarian streak, one that is often extremely counterproductive. We saw that especially near the beginning, with how hard it was to make her work with them as a team. The issue is that now that she is free, she needs to not block out others by habit, to not lash out and refuse the healthy things in life, the people who want good for her. And that’s something that’s addressed in the succubus chapter as well as the fight against the ice golem, that she shouldn’t insist that she can do everything alone and fight against any team effort.

I love how onesided the Laios izutsumi dynamic is. He stays away from her generally, like doesn’t interact much, but he wants the cat pats… Which Izu made clear she did NOT want. And Chil is the only one in the party to not really see her as a cat for most of the story really, as shown in the relationship chart. He’s well meaning and wants the best for her, but he crowds her and doesn’t understand her at all. But he reallyyy wants to get along with her.

On the other hand, Izutsumi’s very existence and identity gave Laios an immense amount of hope that Falin could be brought back and still be herself and live well, even if she still had part of a dragon’s soul in her. I think that’s a lovely way to contrast the way that Izutsumi hates herself as a beastkin and her body, while Laios is like "Thank you, your existence as you are is the answer to all my worries" AND he super likes monster bodies and beastkins so it’s like. I think part of her hostility to him, besides feeling like he doesn’t understand her perspective and is maybe dismissive of what his party members want (which would remind her of Maizuru to some degree probably), is that he says all these good things about her being a beastkin, and it’s so jarring with her own version of herself that it raises her hackles and she reacts negatively, especially with how flippant and eager he is about it. But yes like, this is their first meeting!! Beyond his interest in her as a beastkin because of his monster hobby, Laios is just so very grateful for her and chooses to put his trust in her.

That’s interesting too, how one of the first things she asks about upon meeting them is why the hell they would want to rescue Falin even if she were to stay as a chimera-beastkin and still have the dragon soul in her. It’s her asking "Who would want to stick with a beastkin?" thinking that there’s something fundamentally wrong with having two souls and it making you unlovable. And their differing views on monsters do make them clash

But ultimately he chills out about her, which ironically enough shows in the way that they don’t interact much- He gives her space, and accepts that the beastkin may not like him. BUT at the end of the day they have an incredible bond of trust- Laios asks Izutsumi to kill him if something goes wrong with the Winged Lion. Not only is that sort of an intimate request and act, but that means that he leaves it up to Izutsumi’s judgement as well to know if it went wrong and when to act. He doesn’t only trust her skills but also her decision making, despite how tough they’ve been on each other in the past. He’s giving her the ultimate role, the go ahead to make or break their plan and be the difference between saving or destroying the world. And the last tidbit of info we get on their relationship in canon is when she hides behind him because she’s shy- Certified having befriended the cat moment. She trusts him and sees him as a safe person! And by saying that she’s shy, he’s showing that he did end up understanding her and how she is.

No matter the rocky parts of their relationship, they still have a strong foundation to it and were great allies and road companions, one of the few persons that had each other’s back when it mattered the most, both for the world and for their personal arcs. And post-canon, well…

He’s accepted that she needs space and whatnot, and meanwhile she’s accepted his interest in monsters and taken it in stride 😌 They end up having this familiarity with each other and even if there’s still a bunch of emotional distance imo and they never really got into the nitty gritty with each other not like her with Chilchuck or even Marcille, they see each other. They nod in greeting and respect each other from afar……. But also still tease and chat familiarly up close and if she offers him the opportunity for cuddles he will take it. You know, if it’s not her just falling onto him because she’s sleeping she has no respect.

Siblings behavior… If you know my take on the general party dynamics, I love thinking of Laios & Izu’s dynamic as him being an older brother figure where they have a love-hate relationship. Siblings rivalry. I have a bunch of funny little doodles I’ve wanted to make with them for months, the prompts for which are in the screenshot put below. But yeah like you know, they’re protective of each other but in that very critical way as well, truly forged by being stuck with each other for a while and having to come to understand and accept how the other is. Strife with conflict, but ultimately sticking with each other through thick and thin… Siblings siblings SIBLINGS SIBLINGS SIBLINGS. Sigh I just want them to cuddle on a couch and she purrs while simultaneously being snide and mean to him, they are so… Izutsumi is the character ever

Oh, which! While I’m here, I always recommend this fanfic about the two of them interacting and Laios treating her like a cat, it’s just fun and lighthearted. They’re suuuuch an underrated duo

If I find more Laios & Izu moments I think are worth sharing I’ll just add it onto this I think. We shouldn’t be too hard on him he was raised by dogs so cats are a whole other language to him but also, so wild to me that he never tried to engage with her on a cat level properly like where is the hissing at the catgirl and the cat taming moments, he sucks at socializing with cats smh smh.

I want to do an analysis of queerness in Dungeon Meshi with relationships and social norms and stuff and Izutsumi’s arc is gonna be central to that too. Her relationship with EVERYONE is SOOO GOOD AND IMPORTANT AND COMPELLING. But I guess this is where I leave it off for now, I hope I’m not forgetting any point I wanted to make hmmm

#Dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #izutsumi #laios touden #laizu brotp #Analysis #relationship analysis #Idk idk. Scene analysis #arc analysis #Fumi rambles #This is my brother and this is my sister! We are siblings and we care for each other!#What’s that? We have a younger sister. You thought we were two but there is another. Come on Izu snap out of that trance it’s time to do #THE SIBLINGS DANCE #Ask #Falin & Izutsumi would be so good too actually #That “you can trust your sibling to kill you if needed” thing where it’s even more relevant bc of Laios and faligon GGDBDKDB #Killing someone for their own good is siblings coded in dunmeshi real?? /j

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dimepdf · 2 years

Text

BUT IM A CHEERLEADER. + ROBIN BUCKLEY ᵒⁿᵉ

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? [ ❥ ] synopsis. Robin is having a hard time managing her emotions as she hides her unclear sexual orientation and harbors a crush on a girl who also happens to have an eye for Robin's obnoxious coworkerSteve Harrington. author's note. purely inspired by this song right here, i need to see more wlw fanfic for Robin man she deserves the best!

[ ❥ ] pairing. robin buckley x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 5.9k

[ ❥ ] genre and warnings. wlw, afab reader, cheerleader!reader, friends to lovers, one sided pining, homophobia, homophobic slurs, coming out, lesbians YAY!, heavy angst, Robin panicking, brotp, slow burn, not show canon, drunk confessions, kissing, insecurities, hurt/comfort, self doubt, mentions of religion, slight steve x reader, grammarly as my beta reader

part one | part two | part three

The strange friendship between you and Robin emerged before everyone's eyes, much like a black mole cuddling inside the wallpaper of wooden walls.

When your preppy friends questioned you about the annoying redhead who followed you around like a lost puppy, you would always respond, "I don't know, she's just really chill," as if Robin had just magically appeared in your life.

Being on the cheer team did make you a majorly more popular person in comparison to Robin.

At Hawkins High School, being on the cheer team elevated your popularity significantly compared to Robin, whose involvement in the school band placed her at the bottom of the popularity scale.

Everyone in your class knew you and loved your perfect energetic and caring personality, or at least knew of you and still loved how you weren't as stuck up as the other girls on the cheer team acted.

Robin, on the other hand, didn't really bother to speak to anyone she didn't need to and had about as many friends as she could count on her fingers.

What Robin loved the most was how few people in the school could even recall her name. Her laid-back and approachable demeanor demonstrated how much she cherished her solitude, but it also occasionally caused issues when she wanted to speak with you in class.

Robin thought it was just out of sympathy when you would occasionally just hang out with her out of the blue.

At least that's what she heard your friends whispering to you about, how they thought it was so odd seeing you pair together. It was almost like God gave Robin a blessing on the day you sprained your ankle during practice.

Sure, she felt really bad that you had to hobble around with your foot in a cast all day, but it meant more time that you two spent together after school.

Robin didn't have to worry about you ducking away from conversations just because the cheer team was trying to burn a hole in the back of her head, or guys that would shoulder slam her away in the halls just so they could slide in next to you and make conversation.

The cycle of misery went on forever, but there you both were.

You sat in the gymnasium of the school, next to your best friend Robin, watching the pep rally unfold in front of you, trying to look as interested as you could.

You had to admit that it was strange to be on the opposite side of the gym from the routine you had worked so hard to perfect while not wearing your uniform.

Your chin was resting on the palm of your hand, and your lips were pursed.

You learned that, from the other side, the assemblies were always the same dull tactics used by staff and students to coax you into displaying school spirit, no matter how fancy or exciting they tried to make them.

You secretly also showed no interest in getting everyone pumped up in the morning to announce the senior's final basketball game of the season because your doctor had strictly instructed you not to put any strain on your foot until the end of the season.

You tried not to pout too much considering that most of your friends were still perfectly mobil on the team. Your eyes were glued to the current team captain, Steve Harrington, whom you had found was easy on the eyes.

Robin scoffed from beside you, jolting you out of the trance you'd fallen into as you stared in confusion at your best friend.

"Could you possibly gawk at him any harder?" How could you forget that Steve Harrington was practically another one of Robin's many archenemies, or at least according to your understanding, the two have grown a little closer after initially being unaware of one another and now occasionally quarreling in the hallways.

The moment the boy was employed to work at her job for the start of the summer, Chips-Ahoy, Robin would rant to you on break about how insufferable it was to work alongside the himbo.

Not that you were complaining much, going to the ice cream shop as often as you could with your usual group of friends just to say hello to the tall brunette.

If there was one good thing about Steve working at Chips-Ahoy, it was that he would seem to flirt with any remotely attractive girl that walked through the doors of the ice cream parlor (much to Robin's dismay, but she found joy in marking it every time he would take a swing and miss).

Sure, he'd admittedly become a little shallow since his break-up with Nancy, but that didn't stop you from drooling over the male on the other side of the store.

Much to Robin's annoyance, she was convinced that you would come by more often just to flirt with him than talk to her.

"Yes I could, but for the consideration of the people around me, I'd prefer to be more classy." As you replied with a fake posh accent, Robin made a noise of disgust.

The pep rally ended as everyone stood up from the bleachers, hurriedly exiting the gym to go to their next hour's classes.

You two followed suit, Robin’s arm swinging over your shoulder, not thinking much of the gesture since it was normal for you two to be pretty touchy, having been best friends for a handful of years.

"If they’re all douchebags, why are they all so fucking hot?" You muttered towards your friend, your attention too strung up on watching the male basketball team strut back to the locker rooms on the other side of the gym to notice Robin's scowl of annoyance.

She hated it when you would go on your boy-crazed rants, wanting to do anything else but talk about boys with you.

Just the mere thought of you dating someone made her stomach drop. "Oh shit, he’s actually fucking coming over here. Act natural."

You don't think much of shrugging Robin's arm away from your shoulder, Robin’s face contorting into an annoyed grimace as Steve indeed strides towards you both.

His empty-headed smile beamed at you two as his natural charm worked well on you and it immediately reflected off of Robin.

"What do you want, Harrington?" Robin sneered at him, crossing her arms against her chest as you turned to tilt your head, giving your friend a pointed look before turning your head and giving a more apologetic one to Steve.

"Woah, Woah, no need for the hostile Robin, I come in peace," Steve teased, even laughing at his own joke as his hands were raised in the air in a gesture of defeat.

You giggled like you actually found it funny yourself. Robin watched the entire encounter unfold as it seemed like she was the only one that had known the truth.

Robin tried not to cringe as Steve dragged you into a rather mediocre conversation mixed with a bit of corny flirting. When you spoke, Robin tried not to cringe as his eyes were trailing up your body when you spoke.

Robin was convinced by the way you twirled the one curl that stuck out by your ear.

Robin hopes that one day everything will stop hurting. The ache in her chest saw you throw yourself so openly at Steve.

The unrequited feelings that left her clenching her pencil at the end of the day just to hold back her tears, not wanting to let you hear her cry as you sat unaware on the other line of the phone call, continuing to ramble unbothered about your many boy crushes.

It all just hurt so fucking much. Robin blamed no one else but herself for making everything just so complicated. "Hey Harrington," the redhead interrupted, delaying her greeting on purpose.

Whatever joke Steve was making you fake giggle about, your attention came with a knowing glare as you tilted your head.

Robin would tell you with her entire chest that she was jealous, and would even scream it out at the top of her lungs if it meant never seeing you smile at Steve ever again.

"Hi, Robin?" Steven hesitated before glancing back at you, making a face as he continued to have a full blown conversation, her anger bubbling to the brim as Robin crossed her arms and groaned.

Getting tired of watching you converse, the redhead opted to want to do literally anything else but watch your poor excuse of flirting, side stepping just a few steps away just as Steven linked his hand over Robin’s shoulder, pulling her back by the shoulder of her jacket, parting from the conversation as someone from his team called out for him.

Leaving you and Robin alone once again, you turned to face her, a goofy smile curling at your lips.

Robin, recognizing the doped look, already knew what the next words that were bound to come from your mouth were: you were about to say something about Steve.

"God, he’s just so—ugh! You know? " The excitement in your tone and the stretch of your gestures made Robin roll her eyes, turning promptly on her heels and walking away from you as you tailed right behind her.

"Oh, come on, Robin, can't you just be happy for me?" You acknowledge your kind of confusing stance in the social pyramid of school, not really being liked enough by the girls that were labeled as popular enough to consider yourself up there with them all.

But you were known enough for being on the cheer team. A naturally liked person, that's what you were, who never failed to make even the grumpiest of people laugh on the roughest of days.

"Steve Harrington and the other jerks on the basketball team don't actually care. People like him would toy with any girl if it meant getting whatever they want." Robin answered promptly, but her tone soured as she shoved her way through the halls.

"Well, Billy Hargrove actually went out of his way to talk to me once," you informed, making Robin halt her steps, almost smacking against her back as she comes to a halt, turning around to sort of scan you before shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

"How... fun," she murmured, and you couldn't help but laugh because you loved keeping her guessing.

"I mean, yeah, it was pretty fun, considering we kind of hooked up afterward." The moment that the words slipped from your tongue, Robin grimaced.

Her fingers clenched into a tight fist in her pockets, her eyes glancing up at the ceiling. She had prayed that whatever God was listening to her pleads, would just strike every douchebag you had ever even taken an interest in dead right where they had stood.

Robin detested how emotionally dependent she was on you. How could she be affected by your words in such a way and in such a short amount of time that she would be left crumbling to her feet, it hurt her so fucking bad.

"How stellar." She replied with a breath, hardly even wanting to look at you. She avoided the embarrassment of continuing the conversation just as Robin was about to flee by waiting until the school bell rang.

"Robin?" you called out to her. "My place later?" Robin sighed as she masked her discomfort with the passing situation. Robin gave you a tight smile.

"Maybe next time, I got an early shift today." Robin didn't need to turn back to know you were watching her walk away. Your features were riddled with confusion, knowing Robin was never the type to pass up the opportunity to hang with you.

She was also not the type to pick up any shifts that she didn't want to. You knew something was wrong with her, just not being able to figure out what was going on in her head.

As the summer progressed to the last weeks of school, your ever growing crush on Steve Harrington still grew. Robin hated that you two seemed to actually be getting along so well, spending time with each other without her presence.

You honestly tried to get rid of the feelings you had for Steve, accepting the many time's other boys from your school would ask you to, loving the free food and attention they would give you.

For the betterment of her mental health, Robin tried to ignore Steven to the best of her abilities.

Being her coworker in all, she would make it her daily task to one up him everywhere that she possibly could, even keeping score of his defeat and seeing his embarrassment written in expo marker.

Robin even admitted to making do with her emotions, smothering the heart shattering, painful, reaction she would get watching you fall victim to another date in the corner of the ice cream shop.

Always bringing the sad, boring guys wrapped around your finger to the business after whatever date activity they had asked you on in hopes that seeing Steve’s face and getting free ice cream would help the growing disappointment of being on a date with guys who had the same personalities as a doorknob.

"Did you like the movie at least?" The guy was some geek with a face covered in freckles and big bold brown glasses that you had agreed to watch some sci-fi movie with in favor of him helping you raise your grade in math to a comfortable passing grade.

You had completely forgotten his name and tried throughout the entire date to coax him into reminding you, but the mission hated failed as you came near the end of the evening.

Spooning his cup of ice cream as you tried to look just a little bit interested in whatever he was saying, your eyes not being able to help themselves from glancing over at Robin making faces at you from behind the counter.

"Uh yeah, I loved it when that one guy did that one thing with the sword." No one guy was holding a sword; you didn't want to admit that you had fallen asleep during most of the film.

The freckled kid was too busy sweating over your hand accidentally resting on his lap to even notice that your eyes were closed for most of it.

Eating the rest of your ice cream in a very awkward silence. You could tell he wanted to talk at some point, his mouth opening just to close straight after. You pretended to not take notice of it, reaching to scratch behind your ear.

Robin took it as an escape signal, taking notice that it was a nervous tick that you would do whenever you felt uncomfortable on a date.

A thing that Robin had made a habit of catching since the day she caught some jerk trying to grope you under the table on one of your many pity dates.

She was leaning against the counter when she saw you do the signal and immediately shot straight up. As she advances directly toward you while grinning at her unanticipated new victim, she slams her hands against the table.

Robin was a pro at this point at masking her jealousy with anger saracism, making the kid jump as his eyes widened as you tried to cover your smile with your ice cream.

"Dude, how much of a freak do you have to be to take a chick to see a boring robot movie?" Her insults were already rolling off her tongue as if they were second nature.

If most of the comments weren't so genuine, you would commend your friend for being so witty.

You would agree to the part where she would save you, but I would never agree to the part where she would criticize every guy you had ever dated, almost giving the impression that you needed her approval for the "perfect boyfriend."

"What were you expecting to swap spit or pretend to not touch yourself until the end credits?" Robin leaned into the kid's personal space, all in his face as the question made him turn a light shade of pink, words that he couldn't quite string together, fumbling from his mouth.

"Robin!" You chided, and the redhead snorted a laugh as he ducked his head in shame.

The boy, shooting up from his chair and rushing out of the shop, murmuring something about how much of a bitch you were, Robin, took his seat swiftly and even finished his leftover ice cream with a sly grin.

"You could have gone a little easier on him, Rod." You offered to give your friend a stern look.

"Oh come on, his parents have probably said worse. I kneel to no man." Robin winked, licking the ice cream from her lips and leaning her elbows on top of the table.

"You would think after having to be saved from so many sleazebags, you would thank me and just stop dating all together." Robin scoffed, pointing her spoon directly in your face and swatting the plastic away with a dramatic sigh.

"You would think after being single for so many years, you would finally get tired of hating other people's happiness." You replied, rolling your eyes.

"I’m happy when you're happy." Her honest answer caught you a bit off guard, a moment of silence splitting in between you two. Robin’s face is hard to read.

Shoving the rest of the ice cream down her throat before slamming the paper cup on the table with a thud and a big childlike smile.

"Fine, then what’s your type?"

"My…type?" Robin asked at a loss, "Why does that even matter?" She was now more amused than confused, chirping with interest in the direction your question was heading.

"You said you’re happy when I’m happy, so, one day you're gonna grow up and get tired of the whole ‘boys are gross’ bullshit," you asked more cautiously, biting down on what was left of your ice cream cone. "And I'm gonna be there to set you up with someone that could actually tolerate your potty mouth."

"Oh, you love my mouth!" Robin snorted a little louder than you were comfortable with in public, glancing around to make sure no one was eyeing you weirdly before lightly smacking her arm.

"I'm serious, Robin—" She groaned louder, shaking her head and slouching her shoulders, the conversation deadening.

"Jesus Christ, fine if you care so freaking much. My type is dense cheerleaders that I’ve been friends with for years and don't even like me back."

"Oh, and one more thing that just puts the fucking cherry on the cake. She has to pin after literally the one guy that I despise with my entire being as if liking her isn't as complicated as it can get." She added harshly.

You weren't that inept piecing everything together as Robin stormed away from the table, frozen. Did Robin really just confess and come out to you in the same breath?

It was an awkward weekend spent away from Robin, settled in your house, occasionally finding yourself ready to dial her number into your phone.

only to convince yourself that it would be better to give her time to simmer whatever argument you had left unresolved, hoping that everything would be resolved before the start of the school day.

Your worries were answered the following school day when Robin dodged every opportunity that came your way.

It didn’t help that the one time you were finally able to corner her in the cafeteria was the time that Steve pulled you into a conversation, and Robin seized the window of opportunity to run away without a word being spoken.

The current circumstance reveals that Robin's rambling confession was not the result of some sick joke concocted in her cryptic, disorganized mind but rather came from her heart.

In order to maintain your composure, you avoided thinking about it much. All you wanted was for your best friend to come back.

It was a weird week of Robin avoiding you, realizing that most of your free time that you spent together was a huge chunk of your life inside and outside of school.

Having to pretend that you hadn’t seen her get on the bus, being embarrassed to keep waving in hopes that she would stop the whole silent treatment front and finally speak to you.

You never realized how big of a part Robin had played in your life. The ginger always found some way to wiggle her way into your daily routine.

It was odd having to replace her big personality with someone like Steve Harrington.

You felt even more guilty seeing her eye the boy whenever he made his way toward you.

Like now, had the girl chosen to sit just a table away from you, slouching as she sat down, slamming her textbooks against the table.

You never would have imagined Robin actually studying; it was strange to catch a glimpse of her bent over the desk, intently concentrating on her work.

She would always need to be reminded to stay on course, or you would have to bribe her in order to get her to stay still for 30 minutes.

You also hadn’t expected to see the fluffy-haired Harrington stride his way into the library, his eyes glancing around the room like it was the first time he had ever been inside of the library.

The moment his eyes latched onto yours, it was like a snap of actions took place. Watching Steve being grabbed away from one of his friends, you gave him a kind wave.

"Hey, shit for brains." The familiar sarcastic, scratchy tone made your brows raise. Robin was standing directly in front of you, blocking you from seeing Steve from where you had sat.

"Oh hey, Rod, what’s up?" You didn’t know what to expect the next words to come from your mouth, your finger used as a bookmark as you straighten your posture, suddenly nervous under the girl's boring stare.

"Can you help me with this assignment? Ms. King is really trying to kill me with the amount of work that she expects me to do in just a day." She asked, her pink lips slanting in a sly nervous smile.

Then you noticed Steve, the teenager waiting by the door for your conversation to end. When you caught his attention, he waved his hand in your direction.

"Uh, I mean, I wish I could, Rod, but I’m kinda supposed to help Steve with his." You remember, gesturing to the boy behind her.

Your smile faded the moment you noticed Steve leaving the library without looking back, his arm swung around Tommy Thompson.

"Maybe we could study together after all? that sounds fun, huh?" Robin didn’t bother to turn her head. Judging by your mood, she knew Steve wasn’t going to walk over anytime soon.

The redhead silently thanked whatever dingus-headed Harrington had done to fumble his chances so quickly. Her eyes only glanced down at the table before staring back at you with a small genuine smile.

"Sounds absolutely perfect." You thought that would settle it all; the agreement would get rid of the awkward position your friendship had wedged itself in. "Steve wouldn't be much help anyway. Doesn't he have that super important basketball thingy coming up that I could care less about but the whole school is talking about?"

"Yeah, he's been pretty stressed about it lately." you admitted, reaching to check over her essay, checking to see the work that she had already completed, and flicking through the answers in your textbook.

"It's kind of hard to hold a conversation when all he talks about is balls." The joke was enough to ride away from any other tension that was resting around you two, coaxing a bubbling laugh from Robin’s lips loud enough to get the librarian to stand from her desk and shoo you two.

"So...are you like, okay?" She asked after a bit of silence, making you glance up at her from your worksheet with your brows lifted, the question sort of coming out of nowhere.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you practically fucked your ankle and can’t do the whole pom-pom and miniskirt thing and now Steve is probably chasing after one of your friends." One quality of Robin's personality that you liked was that she didn't like to mince words.

She most certainly wasn't like the other cheerleaders, who would lie right in your face before turning around and whispering something else.

"You're not like... disappointed or envious?" Although you appreciated that Robin would always be honest with you, sometimes it still hurts. You cowered your head and twisted your pencil between your fingers as your lips formed a thin line and pressed together.

Sincerely, you really did miss cheer. You could feel the strain of spending so much time during practice sitting on the benches. It was strange not being able to admit that being an athlete was something that came to you almost naturally.

You honestly replied, "No, not really. Do I need to be?" When you had to juggle so many things at once, you had no idea what was going through your mind.

Should you be disappointed that the only thing that made you happy made you throw up? Do you even have the right to be upset with Steve for talking to other girls? Even so, did everyone think that you two were dating?

Robin watched you puzzled. She stared as if she couldn't quite crack what was brewing inside of your mess of a mind either. "Okay, well if you ever need to vent or like, cry about anything, you know I'm always here—only if you want to talk about it though."

"Oh please, we both know that if anyone started crying within the radius of you, you would jump fences just to get away from them." You teased before returning to your sheet. "Rod, please tell me you know the difference between a verb and an adjective."

"...Yes?" With a wince, she replied. She then looked back at her work, reading the paper as though it were written in a foreign tongue. "At least I think I do."

You sighed and said, "No problem." Stretching your arms upward, you lean back against the chair and rest your elbows on the table. Flipping through your textbooks until you found the page you were looking for, your eyes narrowed at Robin as your face turned into a focused glare.

"Alright, I'm kind of bad at explaining things, so you’re gonna have to bear with me on some of this so we can both hopefully pass." It was a nice but stressful way to bond back with Robin.

The redhead did not make an implied want to bring up her confession, so you respected the elephant in the room, forcing yourself to not bring it up ever again as you thought it was what Robin would have wanted.

Until Robin asked you out on a date, well, it wasn’t really a date, but that way that your friends teased you about it during practice made you feel like it was, "Gonna go scissor with your dyke girlfriend Y/N?" The comment prompted a permanent scowl on your face.

You hurriedly stuffed your clothes into your bag as you hurried out of the locker room since you could no longer take the taunting as amusing as the other girls found it to be.

Robin hadn’t shown any signs of your trip to the small music shop being a date. which only made you more nervous. You saw her cling onto you like she normally did, but for some reason, it just made you feel weirder.

You didn't want to go out and ask if she had thought of it as a date. What if she had said no and you just ended up ruining the moment?

It seemed like Robin could sense your withdrawal, her smile dimming slowly and slowly throughout the day until she could finally sit down with you at the cafe across from the shop, setting her wrapped new cassette player aside as she slid into the booth. You followed suit, glancing out of the window.

"Hey Rod?" you asked, wanting to finally get it off of your chest. "Is this a date?" watching her face turn to a flushed pink, almost blushing the same hue as her red hair. "Uh, I wasn't really planning on it to be unless…"

"...unless?"

"Let's make a bet," Robin had a confident tone to her voice while asking the question, the type of tone that made you want to hold eye contact with her as she continued.

"if this date turns out better than every single one you’ve been on combined, then you have to stop playing matchmaker and let me be single and miserable for as long as I please, and in return, if I lose—which is highly unlikely—than I’ll go on a date with whatever pure smuck you force into liking me."

The bet was agreed to, the afternoon picking up and becoming more eventful as the day continued.

It was a shame you had to admit that you did have a lot of fun hanging out with Robin, and watching her see how many milkshakes it took her until she could get a brain freeze was more entertaining than having some jock grope you in his parent's car.

Since both of you were far from getting your license, walking all the way to the mall for free ice cream was out of the question. Plus, for Robin, it meant having to see Steve, so you both opted for a more local ice cream place.

It was weird to see Robin replaced with some poor guy that you would never really click with at the end of the day. You half expected a Robin clone to appear from behind the counter and walk up to the bench where you two had sat.

Robin’s eyes followed yours, taking a glance inside of the shop, almost like she could read your mind, before turning to you and asking with a giggly tone. "See? Isn't this just so much better when I don't have to swoop in like your knight in shining armor to save you from some guy who just wants to stick their tongue down your throat?"

You sighed. "I never asked you to save me," she reminded him. Your gaze shifted to the cup of ice cream in your hand, mixing it around as it turned into a thick soup texture.

"You didn't," she agreed, kicking her feet under the bench. "But I do it anyway because I know that deep down you truly just want me to.

You know I used to wonder why you would say yes, whether you got enjoyment from just having fun or what you see in them that you…I don't know, it just confused me because I wanted to know why."

"Well, I guess now you know." You answered promptly. "You know what it's all like, and now you can stop with the whole... this thing."

"This?" She repeated her frowned brows and grimaced in confusion as she turned to look at you.

You hesitated to meet her glance, your attention so interested in the cup of melted ice cream. "This...this, gay, thing that you’re going through, maybe it's just because you’ve never been on a date with a guy or romantically interested in one, so you see me go on dates, you can't help but to be curious about what it's all like."

"Wait…what the fuck?" She interrupted, shooting from the bench, dropping her ice cream to the ground, forgotten. You looked up at her with a frightened look. "Rod, you know I—"

"No, just stop—me being...me liking you has nothing to do with literally anything." Her voice was shaky as she spoke.

Robin was straining so hard not to scream at you that her voice was breaking.

She tucked her fist into her sweater's pockets, and you could see the bottom half of the pockets scrunch up as a result of her grasping onto the fabric as if it were preventing an outburst.

“Robin, I didn't mean it like that—”

"Fucking Christ, it's like you're more afraid of admiating that I'm gay than I’m afraid of coming out."

"Well, come on Robin, you can’t be...You’re just confused with everything happening. "

"So you're telling me that my feelings for you, for any girl that I’ve ever liked, have been just this mess of confusion since I was a kid?"

"I…I don't know." You answered honestly, suddenly feeling insecure under Robin’s glare.

"Of course, you have no fucking idea," she scoffed. "Because they're not your fucking emotions, Y/N, you can't just tell me that what I'm doing and feeling is just some weird jealousy thing you're trying to force on me."

The harsh reality of Robin's truth struck you like a ton of bricks. You berated yourself for failing to notice her plight sooner.

The one person in whom you had complete trust was terrified to confide in you the most important secret affecting her life, and yet here you were humiliating her for it all. "Robin—"

"And to think that I thought that hanging out with you would make you realize that—that I'm just in love with you for some reason. I can't explain it all, but I thought that out of everyone, at least you would understand me." You could only watch as the tears streamed down her face, Robing using the sleeve to quickly wipe them away.

"I just wanted one person in my life to genuinely attempt to not make me feel so left out, and when I told you that I liked you, I thought that maybe just a small part of you would at least make an effort to understand and not turn around and act like I'm some fucking hopeless little freak with a disease.”

Robin shouts no longer caring about her volume in the public setting. “God, it's like all you care about is your perfect little life with Steve Harrington and your perfect little friend group. Well, I'm not perfect Y/N, I'm so sorry."

The only thing you could say to defend yourself was, "This isn't about Steve. You are truly at a loss for words as you've never argued with Robin in your life, nor did you anticipate doing so. It is also unusual for you to be yelled at by someone other than an adult authority figure.

She inhaled and winced when she heard Steve's name. "Just stop thinking that you always have to fix everything and do me a huge freaking favor. Some people can never really be fixed." Before you could even process the advice to respond, she charges away from you.

You didn't even realize you were crying until your tears started to cloud your vision, wiping them with the sleeve of your sweater. You didn't fully understand the effort of your words and how much you had hurt Robin.

Since Hawkins was a haven for primarily generic cookie-cutter townies who credited any sense of change to "god's will," so you didn't know much about homosexuality.

Robin reasoned that at least you would stand out from the crowd and were the only person in town she trusted who didn't belong to that ignorant hive mind.

And yet, there you sat with tears streaming down your face, feeling guilty for what you had said to your friend.

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