#steve and reader

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

Chapter 002: Wing Man

You start your first night of work. Eddie requests a private show. But not for him; for his friend — a rich and lonely bachelor who can’t seem to get over his ex.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020

word count: 7.2k words

NSFW — lap dance, steve creaming his pants, abusive relationships, talks of trauma, steve and reader trauma dumping lol

pairing: lonely bachelor!steve x fem!exoticdancer!hargrove! reader (and lowkey eddie)

author’s note: yes we get with steve before we get with eddie, but we will get there okay??? 🫣🫣🫦 also don’t tell me you guys wouldn’t homie hop in hawkins because these men are SO FINE

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

“Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance. Take you down another level, and get you dancing with the Devil” -Wicked Games by The Weeknd

♡

A sultry black set.

A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.

“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”

Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.

“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”

“I guess.”

You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.

"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"

"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.

"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."

It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.

"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.

"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."

"Did they even determine if you do?"

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”

You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.

“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”

“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”

“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.

“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”

“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”

The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.

Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.

Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.

“Hey.” you snap.

Max halts. She knows she went too far.

“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”

At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.

Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.

“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”

You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.

“I figured as much.”

You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.

���You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”

He ponders for a while longer.

“Most of the time at least.”

Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.

Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.

“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”

“Ay ay!”

One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…

“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”

Suspicions confirmed.

“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.

“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”

Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.

“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”

“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”

“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”

“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.

“Flats,” you respond instantly.

You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.

“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”

“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”

The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.

“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”

“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.

Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.

“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”

“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”

“All in good nature right?”

“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”

And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.

“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”

“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”

I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.

You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.

You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.

“Shy Girl<3”

“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”

You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.

“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”

You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.

“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”

“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”

“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”

Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.

“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”

“No, right. Totally!” you agree.

Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.

You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.

“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,

“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”

It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.

You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.

“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”

You two shake hands again.

“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”

You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.

“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”

“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.

After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.

“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”

Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.

“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.

Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”

You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.

Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.

“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”

You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.

“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.

He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.

“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”

“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”

“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”

You follow closely behind. “He?”

Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.

"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.

"Yeah, but not in this setting."

He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."

You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.

You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.

"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”

Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.

“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”

As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”

Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.

"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”

You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.

“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”

Eddie pauses.

"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”

He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.

"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.

“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.

You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.

You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.

"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."

“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.

“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”

Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.

Wicked Games by The Weeknd.

More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.

“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”

You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.

Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.

“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”

“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.

“I call bull.”

The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.

You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.

“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”

“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”

The beaded curtains clash once more.

In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.

“Hi,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”

He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”

“That’s meee.”

It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.

“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”

The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”

“Just a little.”

He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”

“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.

Oh yeah, that’s all gin.

“With your handsome self?”

Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”

“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.

“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.

“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.

Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.

Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.

“So how’s your day been?”

Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"

"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.

Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.

“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”

“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”

“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.

Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."

You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a relief."

Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.

"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”

"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."

"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."

He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.

"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."

He tosses his head back.

"You make me feel so good."

"Aww," you grin. "Me?"

"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."

His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.

A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.

“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”

“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.

Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.

“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”

“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.

“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”

You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.

"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."

"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."

"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."

He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.

"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."

You pause.

"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."

Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”

The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.

You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his—

"Woah, are you okay?"

Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.

Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."

"Oh..." you begin.

"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”

You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.

"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.

"Steve," you stop him.

"And..." he cuts out.

"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.

"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."

Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.

"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"

You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.

"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"

----

So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.

“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”

He laughs.

“Your brother sounds cool.”

“He was.”

Steve gasps in astonishment.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”

“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”

The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.

“Dead to you though?”

“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”

You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.

“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.

There’s a dramatic pause.

“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”

Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.

“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”

“Aw,” you pout.

“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”

Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”

Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.

“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”

“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”

You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.

Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.

“What happened?”

“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”

“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”

“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”

It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.

Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.

“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”

“Do you ever see her here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”

You chuckle. “With a stripper?”

“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”

“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”

“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”

“I kinda know how you feel.”

You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.

"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”

"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."

You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.

"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.

He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.

“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”

“Duh, it’s what I just said.”

He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”

“No. Just human to human.”

You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.

"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”

The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.

"Yeah.”

“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”

Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.

“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."

"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”

"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”

"You're kidding."

You shake your head.

"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."

You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”

Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.

"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”

You bite your lip. "I'd like that."

“Good. I’d like that too.”

———-

"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.

"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."

"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."

"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."

“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”

“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”

————

You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.

You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.

The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.

Knock, knock.

“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”

You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.

When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.

You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.

“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”

“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”

“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”

You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.

“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”

“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”

‘I do it with all my dancers.’

Your heart sinks. Back to square one.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”

The tinge in your heart intensifies.

“Oh, sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”

“Have fun, Eddie.”

“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.

Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.

“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove

iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

#the babyboyification of steve harrington #daddy eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson smut #Steve #steve harrington #Steve harrington smut #Steve and reader #Eddie and trader

[chickenfics]

the way I love the ocean

Relationship: Robin Buckley x Female!Reader

Summary: It was the summer of ‘87. Nothing in your life had prepared you for Robin, but somehow everything had begun falling into place. It all started with a movie and a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and suddenly you were dancing to a Jukebox in a long-closed diner, or racing down the length of a pier, swimming in the moon-dipped lake and walking her home down yellow-lit streets, talking about the way The Smiths sound like indigo and the best time of the summer is when the fireflies start to come out.

It was the summer of ‘87, and you were falling in love.

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: .........Hi. Okay so yes it's been six months I am so sorry for the wait. I will finish this fic, and the final chapter will not take another 6 months to get out, but I do still have to write it so bear with me <3 Thank you all for the support, I hope this chapter is at least a little worth the wait :]

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future chapters! (Only one more to go)

Fic Playlist!  Also on Ao3

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Chapter 7: Here I Go Again

“I’m telling you guys, he just like… doesn’t listen to what I’m saying. It doesn’t matter what it is -- I could tell him I’m heading to college tomorrow, bags already packed, and he’d still be fucking disappointed.”

Steve was stacking shelves with half of his focus and ranting with the other, hand waving through the air with an occasional VHS to add to his point. You were leaning back against the counter of Family Video, resting between Robin’s legs. She had her arms wrapped around your shoulders in a loose but heavy grip, and her chin sat on one of her arms. Steve would have been complaining that she wasn’t working if he wasn’t still reeling from an argument he'd had with his dad. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you said. 

“Yeah,” Robin chimed in, reaching up to lay a hand on the top of your head, tilting it this way and that like a monkey inspecting a coconut. “Parents suck.”

“Parents fucking suck,” he insisted, shoving the last VHS tape into its spot on the shelf. “I can’t wait to move out.”

“Take me with you,” Robin pleaded. Your heart immediately fluttered at the thought of moving into your own little home with Robin and Steve. 

“God, can you imagine,” you said, sliding your hands behind Robin’s knees and pulling her closer to you. “Actually having a place of our own…”

“Now hang on a minute, I said I can’t wait to move out -- who said anything about you bozos.”

“Steeeeeeve,” Robin whined, tilting her head so her cheek was smushed against your shoulder. She wrapped her arms further across your chest. “I thought we were best friends.”

“We are best friends -- that doesn’t mean I don’t need my own space.”

“So you can have a man cave,” she replied, voice rising an octave in that way that always meant she was making fun of him. 

“Really, Robin? You just--”

“Hey guys,” a sudden familiar voice called along with the chime of the bell as the door opened and Eddie burst through. “I brought the kid.” He spun halfway, pointing a finger at a teenager who was trailing behind him. 

“‘The kid.’ Really?” the boy deadpanned, giving Eddie an unamused look.

“Henderson!” Steve grinned, his mood immediately improving. He fidgeted like he was going to run over to him but instead leaned over the other side of the counter. Robin pulled her legs out of your grip to twist around. 

“What am I, chop liver?” Eddie demanded, shooting him a wink when the other man rolled his eyes before going to poke him in the ribs.

“Hey,” Robin greeted the kid. 

“Hey,” the kid, nodding his head at her, then his gaze quickly snapped to you peeking over her shoulder. “Holy shit,” he said with an endearing lisp. “Is this the…”

“Yep, this is my…”

“Hi,” you raised an awkward hand. 

“Holy shit, hi!” he perked up, grinning from ear to ear. The corners of his mouth curled into dimples, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the intensity of his smile. The decision that you liked this kid was instantaneous. 

He took a big step closer to the counter and reached a hand over it. 

“I’m Dustin, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he shot Robin an intentional look, then glanced back at you. You ducked around Robin to take his hand, smirking when he gave it a firm, business-like shake. 

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Why is this just now happening?” he demanded, glancing around the room. 

Steve gave a vague shrug, Eddie smirked slyly as he leaned onto Steve’s shoulder, and Robin said, “We’ve just been a little busy, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Dustin said around another smaller grin, eyes twinkling as he looked back at you. “Awesome.”

“Henderson quit staring, you creep.”

“Wha-- I’m not staring--” He dodged as Steve suddenly lunged around the counter for him. The older boy dropped a hand onto the top of Dustin’s baseball cap and gave him a friendly shove before ducking away from the kid’s elbows. Eddie was watching them with his arms crossed and a love-drunk grin on his face that you knew he probably would have denied with his life if anyone dared to bring it up. 

“Oh my god, they’re adorable,” you whispered to Robin, turning to face her and draping your arms over her shoulders. Her eyelids fluttered half-closed as she smirked at you. 

“You’re adorable.”

“Shut up,” you tucked your nose behind her ear, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo. 

“Holy shit!” Dustin suddenly yelled, voice cracking. You lifted your head and Robin turned hers to find him staring at you. “You guys totally have to come skating with us on Friday.”

There was a chorus of “What? No,” “Skating, you guys are going skating?” and “I can’t skate -- I can barely even walk,” the last one belonging to the girl whose legs were wrapped around your hips. 

“Come on,” Dustin groaned, obviously lacking the patience required to deal with any answer but ‘yes.’ “Guys, it’ll be so fun. El wants to go before they all head back to California, so that means it would actually be really rude to say no. Besides," he added, waving a hand at you. "She can meet the rest of the party there. You guys can't just keep her all to yourselves forever." 

"Uh, last I checked she’s a free person," Robin said with mock pleasantness and her own eyebrow raised. 

"Alright, fine," Dustin replied, somehow sounding like a parent who was ending an argument he knew he could win. You couldn't help but wonder who this kid was. He was kind of great. "But my argument still stands." 

Then, horrifyingly, he looked to you, his lips curling into that adorable grin. 

"So, you wanna come skating this weekend?" 

"Uh," you hummed, glancing at Robin. She just stared back at you with what you thought might be an expression high on fondness. "Sure," you decided even though you weren't actually sure. "Why not?" 

"Robin might fall and crack her big head open," Steve said in answer to your rhetorical question. 

“Uh, for your information, I actually have an average-sized head, thank you very much.”

Eddie snorted.  

“I mean, if that’s okay,” you ignored the theatrics you were more than used to by now and looked at Robin. You didn’t want to pressure her into anything, and you also didn’t want to just waltz yourself right into her friend group if she didn’t want you to.  

But Robin smiled softly. Always soft, always sweet like springtime.

 “If you’re game,” she shrugged. “I’m game. You’ll just have to keep me from cracking my perfectly average-sized head head open,” she hooked her arms around your waist with a smirk. 

“Oh, you guys are so cute,” Dustin said, and you both turned around to find him grinning at you. 

“Shut up, nerd,” Robin said even though she was smiling too. She reached over to give him a little shove to keep up appearances. 

“So, six o’clock?” he looked expectantly around the room. 

“Yeah, sure,” Steve grumbled, and everyone else nodded in agreement. 

“Cool, cool…. So, I’m also gonna need a ride--”

“Oh, me too,” Robin raised a hand. 

“Oh my god!”

______________________________________________________________

The roller rink in Hawkins was, in almost every way, about as fancy as you’d expect. It was almost always empty during weekdays and crowded during weekends when kids had off school and parents were looking for a way to get them out of the house. It was dark, the floor was cracked in a few places, and the roller skates were likely older than all of you combined. You were pretty sure your parents had used the same skates you were using now, and as you carried the worn leather back to an equally worn cushioned seat just outside the skating area, you half expected a wheel to pop off or something. 

You’d arrived before the rest of the kids. You, Robin, and Dustin had all piled into Steve’s car earlier that evening. Dustin, taking the passenger seat, had ranted about the grade he’d gotten on his science project and how he was being “cheated for all I’m worth, Steve. Cheated.” Then he changed the tone by bragging about how well Suzie had done on her own project. 

“Suzie?” you asked, wondering if she was one of the kids you’d be meeting tonight. 

“Dustin’s girlfriend,” Robin teasingly provided. 

“Yeah,” Dustin said, grinning dreamily. “She’s great. She lives in Utah, though, so we made this whole radio system to communicate. Way easier than using a phone, and this way we know no one can listen in on our conversations.”

“Ew,” Steve muttered. 

“It’s not ‘ew,’ it’s romantic.”

“Sounds pretty ‘ew’ to me.”

“Oh, there it is,” Robin leaned between the seats to point at the turn in the road. “Pay attention, Steve.”

“I am, Jesus, would you sit back down?”

With a smirk, Robin flopped herself back into her seat. As Steve turned into the parking lot, Robin gave you a fond smile. It lit up her face like a spring morning, all sunshine and birdsong, and you felt something unbearably warm bloom between your ribs. 

Clambering out of Steve's car, you’d all rushed inside to get your skates, Dustin leading the way like he owned the place and chatting with the employees eagerly -- even when they were less than eager to talk to him. Steve had rolled his eyes about five times since getting inside, but there was a constant spark in them. You were pretty sure he loved this kid, and you were also sure that it made sense. Steve, at his very core, was loving -- even when he was trying very hard not to be. 

You and Robin had just sat down next to each other when a familiar puff of brown hair popped up in the crowd of pre-teens and parents who had already filled the building. When he caught sight of you, Eddie waved dramatically, and then he spun in a circle to herd a group of kids toward the front desk. Behind him, a large man in a floral shirt had his arm slung around a tiny woman in a beige jacket and following them was another group of kids. 

“Jesus, you guys weren’t kidding. How many children does Steve know?”

Robin looked at you and grinned. 

“Hey, oh my god!” Dustin called, hopping excitedly as two boys ran up to tackle him in a group hug. From the back of the crowd, another boy appeared and raced towards the pile, throwing his skinny arms around his friends. You watched them with a vague smile on your face. 

What happened next was chaos. Between the crowd of strangers and the crowd of children, you felt like you were drowning in faces as Dustin, Robin, and Steve all tried to introduce you at different times to different people. But after only a few moments, the group seemed to realize that there was a newcomer among them. 

“Everybody shut up!” Dustin shrilly yelled. 

“Dustin, Jesus Christ,” a dark-haired boy muttered, face scrunched in annoyance. 

“Okay,” Dustin said, ignoring him. “Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s Robin’s… friend. Y/N, this is Mike,” he pointed to the dark-haired boy, who gave you a grimace in place of a smile. “Lucas,” he pointed to the boy next to Mike, who smiled and nodded. “And Will.” Last in line, Will murmured a shy, “Nice to meet you.”

Then Dustin stretched up on his tip-toes to peer over the crowd. “Max! Eleven! Erica!” 

“Jesus, would you stop yelling,” Mike insisted, and Lucas laughed to himself. 

Three girls appeared out of the crowd, two of them looking like they were ready to kick someone’s ass. 

“What the hell do you want, nerd,” the smallest of them snarked. 

“I want to introduce you to someone, so could you be pleasant and or agreeable for once in your life? This is Y/N, she’s Robin’s friend.”

“Hi,” you offered, trying to seem as disarming as possible. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at you. “Hi. I’m Erica,” she finally said, looking you up and down. 

“Hello,” the girl next to her said in a soft but clear voice. “I’m El. It is nice to meet you,” she held out a hand, and you took it with a gentle shake. She seemed sweet. 

“This is Max,” she said, tilting her shoulders to make room for a redhead who was eyeing you warily. 

“You’re Robin’s friend?” Max said, and you got the sense that this was some sort of test. 

“Yeah,” you replied simply, and the girl only nodded. 

“Alright,” Steve clapped his hands together. “Now that that’s done, everybody get your skates before they run out. Come on, chop-chop everybody, let’s go!”

You watched as Steve slipped into what Robin had warned you was “Mom Mode” as he herded all the kids towards the back of the room to pick up their skates. 

“Hi,” the small woman greeted you, stepping around the man in the colorful shirt. She smiled as she offered you her hand, and kindness radiated from every inch of her. “I’m Joyce, Will and El’s mom. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you replied, instantly feeling comfortable. 

“I know things can be a little crazy around here,” she glanced around the roller rink. “But you let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling a bit of your mask chip away as you began to feel more at ease. Maybe meeting new people wasn’t as scary as you’d been led to believe your whole life. Maybe you’d just never met the right people. 

“Should we get this show on the road?” Robin said, appearing close to your side. 

“Let’s do it,” you murmured. “Just promise you won’t break any bones, okay?”

“‘Course not. You’re here to look after me, right?” she replied, voice sugar-sweet. All you could do was nod, your mouth opening uselessly. Robin shrugged as she backed towards the seat. “Then I’ll be fine.”

______________________________________________________________

“Keep your knees bent. Knees bent, Steve -- fucking Christ.”

“Shut up, Henderson,” Steve hollered back as best he could without toppling himself over. He looked like a baby deer on ice. You’d started calling him Bambi and he’d threatened to never drive you anywhere ever again. Robin laughed so hard she’d nearly fallen over, and you’d had to grab her under the armpits to stop her from hitting the deck. Then Steve laughed so hard he did fall over, and Dusin had to take several prolonged minutes to catch his breath and wipe the tears from his eyes when the whole ordeal was over. 

You grinned as you passed Steve, who squinted his eyes at you in a way that suggested if he didn’t have wheels strapped to his feet, you’d be in a headlock right about now. It also probably helped that you were the main reason Robin wasn’t on her ass. In her words, “I’ve got about as much coordination as a newborn giraffe. Probably less.” She hadn’t let go of your hand since you’d entered the rink, her knuckles white and her palm sweaty. It was probably one of the few places, you realized, where the two of you could hold hands like this without getting odd looks. Plenty of people were helping each other stay upright -- it hardly mattered that you and Robin were touching. 

It was nice. God, it was nice -- even when you were both sweaty, and the rink was crowded, and Robin looked like she was doing the monster mash trying to keep herself balanced. You giggled at the thought. 

“What?” she managed to look at you without tripping over her own feet. 

“You look adorable,” you murmured, leaning to bump your forehead on her shoulder because outright kissing her like you wanted to wouldn’t have gone down well. 

“You look adorable,” she shot back, wrinkling her nose with a grin. “Also, how are you so good at this?”

You shrugged. “I’ve got good balance.”

Risking life and limb, Robin skated closer until she was nearly pressed against your side. 

“My girlfriend’s multi-talented,” she whispered in your ear, wiggling her eyebrows when you looked up at her. You tried to keep yourself from burning up. 

“I have to pee,” you suddenly said. 

Robin looked at you for a moment, then glanced around. “I, uh, guess I should help you to the bathroom, right?”

“I mean… Peeing on wheels is dangerous business.”

Her eyes lit up with the realization followed by a mischievous smile, and then she was pulling you towards the rink’s exit, ignoring the other skaters as they dodged around you. 

“Hey,” you heard a familiar voice call. You tilted your heels and spun around. 

“Holy shit,” Robin muttered, grabbing onto your arm in alarm -- as if she’d be able to hold you up. No, the gesture was more like a commitment to going down with you. 

“So what, you guys’re just gonna leave me?” Steve yelled, and then his arms flew up as the effort of yelling nearly knocked him on his ass for the dozenth time that night. 

“Bathroom,” you yelled back, pointing towards the door in the corner of the large room. “Besides, Dustin’s taking great care of you.”

“Finally,” the kid announced. “Some of the respect I deserve. I like her,” he turned to Steve. “She’s way better than you.”

“Oh, oh really, okay,” Steve muttered, pulling a face before dodging sideways and trying to push Dustin over. The younger boy yelled, but he was grinning. You smiled after them, and when you turned to find Robin again, she was watching you, something soft and distinctly happy on her face. 

“So, uh… bathroom?” you murmured. 

“Oh, uh… yes. Bathroom,” she replied. 

It was more of an ordeal than you’d expected, getting inside the small room without being dismembered by the sink or beheaded by the stall doors. The slight slope in the floor was enough to make you unsteady, and Robin, her cheeks flushed red, looked like she was seriously considering the possibilities of an afterlife. But you managed, mostly by holding onto each other in a death grip. You were surprised neither of you had lost an eye by the time you determined that the bathroom was empty. 

And as soon as you did that, you found your back against the wall. Robin was holding onto the sink -- the only reason she’d been able to push you backward -- and she was smiling at your lips. With eyes half-lidded and breath coming in short puffs that moved the strands of her frizzy hair, she leaned forward and kissed you. Her lips were hot and soft, and they tasted like the chapstick you kept in your work apron. You hummed, wrapping an arm around her neck. 

“I,” she said, ducking back slightly. You opened your eyes to look into her soft blue ones. “I probably smell really bad right now. Like, a serious B.O. situation going on--”

You laughed, quickly shaking your head. 

“No, no -- you just… you smell like you. Good,” you clarified. “You smell good…” Inching your nose into her hair, you managed to convince her. 

“I’m so glad you exist,” she whispered against your cheek. “And that you’re, like, a goddess on skates, because otherwise I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now.”

“Oof,” you winced, leaning back enough that you could smile, but not so far that your noses couldn’t touch. “‘A goddess?’ I don’t know…”

“I do. It’s definitely hot.”

You breathed out a small laugh, glancing at your feet, at the way Robin’s leg had braced against your thigh. You didn’t know what to say, so you lifted your hands to the waistband of her shorts, letting them play with the belt loops before sliding your fingers gently up her waist. 

Eyes wandering slowly across your face, she’d just opened her mouth when there was a sudden noise from outside the bathroom. Pushing off of you, Robin spun in a circle like a rabbit caught in a trap. Acting on instinct, you reached out and caught her with one hand while flipping on the sink with the other -- just in time for Joyce to round the corner. 

“Take it easy,” you said. “If the floor gets wet, we’re gonna have even bigger problems…” Laughing anxiously, you nodded toward the soap dispenser. 

“Oh… oh right,” realization flitted across her face and she reached around you to stick her hands under the stream of water. She was still unsteady, though, and you grabbed her waist with both hands, this time just to steady her. Turning over your shoulder, you glanced at Joyce. 

“You both are braver than me,” she said, smirking kindly. “Could never get me on a pair of those things. Not anymore…”

You smiled, the panic rushing out of your body. 

“Yeah, it’s… an acquired skill,” you managed. 

“I haven’t acquired it,” Robin added, and then she stiffened as she almost lost her balance again. Your hold on her waist kept her from falling. 

“Well, it seems like you’re both doing great,” Joyce said, smiling again before ducking into a stall. You let out a breath as you turned to glance at Robin. Nothing was said, but you both could see it in each other’s eyes, how close of a call that had been. Even though Joyce seemed nice, you didn’t want to take any chances. At the very least, you didn’t want to have to try and explain what you and Robin had between each other to anyone else. It was yours, and you wanted to keep it that way. 

“Ready?” you breathed, hand sliding around to the small of her back -- more of a comforting gesture than anything. Maybe for her, maybe for you. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, grabbing your hand. She gave it a squeeze and a little shake, and it made your insides feel just as good as when she kissed you. Everything Robin did made you feel loved. 

Which even included having to hold her tall frame up as you both wobbled your way out of the bathroom. 

“We're lucky no one’s lost an eye,” she said.

“I was just thinking that,” you laughed and held her hand tighter. 

“Heya,” a voice droned past you, and you looked up in time to see Eddie spin on his wheels and coast backward, two cans of soda in hand. “How’s it going, nerds?”

“This is what happens when he hangs out with Erica. He gets even more annoying than usual,” Robin explained, leaning into you so she didn’t have to yell over the music and clatter of skates. 

“Ouch?” Eddie announced, clutching a hand to his chest. 

“We’re good,” you said, ignoring Robin with a smirk. “Well, we almost died in the bathroom, but other than that.”

“Oh, the bathroom, eh? And of course, you needed a partner for that perilous journey…”

“Exactly.”

“Didn’t you hear the part about us almost dying?” Robin said, wobbling again. “If it wasn’t for her I’m pretty sure you’d have to wheel me out on a gurney.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie squinted, but then he lifted his hands and shrugged. “As long as you’re being safe.”

“Shut up,” you grinned, rolling your eyes. 

A smile tugged at Eddie’s lips, and then he was whipping around and hooking his arm over your shoulder, holding the opened soda can up and out of the way enough that, when a few splashes escaped, they landed on the floor and not on you as he pulled you into him a planted a kiss on your cheek. 

“Take care of our girl, hot wheels,” he said, and then he was coasting away, lifting a can in parting without even looking back. 

“He’s such a dork.” Robin announced. 

“He’s a total sweetheart,” you replied. She looked over at you, then smiled. 

“Whaddya say, hot wheels. Should we hit the floor?”

“Well, let’s not hit it too hard.” 

Robin’s face scrunched with a grin and she nuzzled her adorably wrinkled nose into your ear before tugging you toward the rink. 

______________________________________________________________

“So, do you like, skate a lot?”

“Well, not a lot. I used to, when I was younger, but not as much anymore.”

“You’re pretty good at it.”

“Thanks,” you smiled softly. 

The redhead -- Max, you were pretty sure her name was -- had reluctantly worked her way over to you. Robin was in your line of sight, waving occasionally from the center where she and Steve were skating in smaller circles. Erica was with them, coaching them better than any gym teacher you’d ever seen and, even though they both made sure to very loudly voice their complaints, it was actually helping. Steve hadn’t fallen for a solid ten minutes now, and Robin was finally looking less like a falling tree. You thought maybe Erica seemed proud -- when she was sure neither Robin nor Steve was looking. 

You’d stayed on the outside, coasting leisurely while watching the people skating around you. In the crowd, you recognized friends and strangers alike, and people that fell somewhere between the two. You’d thought the kid had maybe been watching you, but you weren’t sure until she came racing by, hitting the brakes moments before sailing past you. Her first few sentences had been awkward -- stilted, like she hadn’t really decided that she wanted to do this but was doing it anyway. You tried to seem casual enough that she wouldn’t feel weird about it and found yourself letting out a breath when she relaxed into easy conversation. 

“You definitely seem to know what you’re doing,” you said. “Do you skate a lot?”

“I skateboard.”

“Oh, cool!” you grinned. “I don’t think I’d be very good.”

“It just takes practice. I was pretty shit at it when I first started,” she shrugged. Then, very hesitantly. “I don’t know, you seem pretty average on wheels. It probably wouldn’t take you long to pick it up.”

“Do you skate at that bank in the park?”

“Yeah,” another hesitation. She glanced at you. “I could teach you sometime if you wanted. I mean, I’m not a teacher or anything,” she added in a rush, icing out her fluster with indifference. “But I could show you the basics or whatever.”

“Really?” you grinned wider. “Yeah, okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” Max nodded. Then, with an almost surprised glance in your direction, she skated off, catching up with Lucas, who gave her a mock shove in the shoulder. She grabbed his shoulders and pretended to shake him before he ducked out of her grip. Someone grabbed onto your shoulder. You turned around and Robin was there.

“Holy shit, that was exceptional. She, like, has this whole thing going on where she likes to seem all tough and it makes her pretend she doesn’t like anyone even when she does.”

“I like her,” you said. Robin smiled. 

“Me too. She--”

“Robin!” Steve yelled from across the room, voice raising in both volume and octave as he flailed toward you.

She took a breath to yell something back -- probably “What are you yelling for so loud, dingus, can’t you use your inside voice” -- when Steve, half hunched over in a desperate attempt to not fall, pointed frantically toward the ceiling.

Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What--”

“Robin,” you gasped, grabbing her arm. 

“Would someone kindly tell me what on Earth is-- Oh my god!”

“ABBA!” Steve yelled. 

“ABBA,” she yelled back, grabbing your arm as Mamma Mia blared over the speakers. 

“You can’t not dance to ABBA, but I might genuinely die so hold onto me, okay?”

You laughed, readjusting your grip on her enough that she didn’t faceplant as she began to wiggle around.

“Mamma Mia,” she sang, spinning around so she could face you head-on. You gripped her hands tightly. 

“Here I go again--”

“Woah, careful!”

“My, my, how can I resist you.”

“Mamma Mia,” Steve joined, coasting by -- nearly crashing into the wall.

“Does it show again, just how much I missed you.” Steve circled behind you as the two of them sang. You couldn’t stop smiling if you tried.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie muttered as he slowly skated by. “This is truly a sad sight to see.”

Very slyly, you shot him a look. Then, throwing an arm around Robin’s shoulder, you sang nearly as loud as her and Steve.

“Yes, I've been brokenhearted. Blue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you go?”

“Not you too.”

You just kept on singing, much to the delight of Steve, who seemed to be especially enjoying Eddie’s misery at the choice of music.

“It’s a roller rink, man,” Steve argued, shrugging. He’d gotten pretty decent on the skates, much to Eddie’s dismay. Less ammo. “They’re gonna play disco music.”

“Whatever. Just focus on not breaking your neck, okay Harrington.”

"Oh my god, do you think they'll play Dancing Queen?" he asked Robin. 

"Eds, I can see the vein in your forehead popping."

"New girl, I need less of that and more--" he pulled a thinking face "--ehhh, emotional support. That's it." He hooked an arm around your neck. Robin had grabbed your hand. You hadn't noticed until now -- wondered if anyone else had. Didn't care. 

It surprised you, but it felt good. Your insides felt all indigo and warm air and flowers woven into a crown. The lights blinked in a meadow across the floor. You rested your hand on Eddie's arm and squeezed Robin's with the other. 

"I love you," Robin whispered, leaning closer. 

"Insufferable," Eddie said with a big roll of his eyes and a little tug of your shoulders. 

"Can you guys not hang off each other for like, five whole minutes?" a now familiar voice appeared just a moment before Dustin skated into view. 

"You know what, Henderson?" Eddie pushed off of you and slid over to grab Dustin by the shoulders. "I've always been impressed by how much gall you can pack into such a tiny body." 

"Ha ha." 

“Seriously, though, how do you not explode?”

“Hey.” Robin’s voice was close. You took a moment before you looked at her, shivering at the feeling of her words and the memory of her lips. Then you turned, buckling under the weight that she held in your mind -- entirely too much; perfectly enough. 

“Hey,” you replied, hushed, with a shy smile that you didn’t even think to control. Probably couldn’t, when it came to her. 

“You okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” you said. Then, “Well, almost.” You were getting tired, and your social battery had run out a while ago, and--

“It’s, like, really loud,” Robin said like she already knew everything you could ever tell her. Like she knew all the right ways to make it better. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling. 

“You wanna get out of here?” she said -- dragged the words out slowly, glancing around, ocean blue eyes scanning the room before landing back on you. Always on you. 

How were you this lucky to be the one that she came back to? 

“Yeah,” you whispered, face aching. 

Robin was steadier than she’d been the entire night as she led you toward the carpet. Everyone else around you was a blur, blending into yellow and blue streaks of sound and light and all that was inconsequential. And in your hand, Robin’s had grown warm. And somehow that didn’t matter because all the people around you were just as inconsequential as the blur. Your hips brushed hers as you untied your laces with quietly hasty fingers. And that warmth that had been in your hand came radiating off of Robin’s body. You didn’t even need to lean into it, it permeated your whole atmosphere. 

The world felt so much smaller as you followed Robin to the booth at the back of the rink. The world felt just the right size. You left your skates on the counter, feeling unsteady now on your own two feet. But then Robin was there, always there, and her fingers were intertwining with yours, and you looked up at her and you knew without uncertainty that wherever you went in this life, however unsteady your feet grew, she’d always be there, and you’d always have just enough strength to find your way to her. 

The two of you had the whole world. 

And yet, it was sitting on a dumpster behind a run-down roller rink in nowhere Hawkins where you watched a sunset that felt too substantial to possibly be found anywhere else. 

“I like your friends.” You broke the silence that had started with “You want to get out of here?” and lasted long enough to watch the yellow sun bleed down into orange, and then pink, and then purple. The sky was indigo now. It felt like home draped over your heads -- like the world had made this millions of years ago just for you where you were now. Like it had been waiting all this time for you to find it. A million and nineteen-something years. 

“Oh.” Robin broke her own silence with a sigh. And with that, you were together -- a million and nineteen-something years in the making. “I’m glad,” she said. “I was irrationally afraid that you’d, like, totally hate them, or find out that they’re completely crazy and then decide you want to bail, or… something.” She chuckled nervously, her eyes finding yours, still reflecting the last bits of the sky’s color. 

The sunsets always lasted longer in Robin’s eyes. 

“There’s nothing,” you said like it was a full answer. Maybe it was. “There’s nothing that could ever make me want to bail, or… anything.”

You watched the tides of Robin’s eyes shift as she watched you -- ocean spray turning to dark waves and blue depths. And it was the same as the sound of crickets, far off from where you were now, away in the forest that had first held the two of you close, and it was the same as the buzz of the pavement settling under the indigo sky that held you now. Everywhere you went, there was something that knit you together. Here, outside a roller rink in nowhere Hawkins that was bursting at the seams with warmth and life and love, it was your lips. 

She didn’t always kiss you slowly, but when she did, it was often under the light of a sunset, or the beams of the moon, or the glow of pool lights settled just below the water. And when she did, you found it ineluctable in you to not reach forward and feel the reflections that had settled on her cheeks. She could make any sharp light soft. She made the roughness of your fingers feel alive and ancient until her freckles and your fingerprints became one and the same. 

“I’m glad you’re alive,” you said, eyelashes brushing her cheek. Robin smiled. 

“Right back at you, Earth girl,” she murmured. Reaching onto your lap, she sought out your hand and hooked your pinkies together. 

You took a deep breath. It was filled with the smell of asphalt and dirt and the berry shampoo in Robin’s hair. Pulling one leg up onto the dumpster and crossing it under the other, you leaned toward Robin until your temple rested on her shoulder. The sky was glowing, and the air smelled like summer. It felt like the whole world belonged to you -- like no one else was here. Like nothing else mattered beyond the connection between your pinkies. 

“‘M I interrupting something?”

Neither of you panicked at the familiar voice. Instead, you turned to find Eddie walking into the orbit of your world, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a soft smile on his face. 

“Don’t you usually,” Robin answered, lacking malice. 

“Hi, Eds,” you said because it felt right. 

“Mind if I sit?”

Robin shook her head a second before you did. Eddie hopped up next to her. 

“A dumpster. Romantic.”

“Said the guy who brought Steve that old sweatshirt like a cat dropping a dead bird on a porch.”

“Hey. That sweatshirt is a piece of Metallica history, Buckley, and you’ll show it some respect.”

“You’re such a dingus, dingus.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell me about it.”

The three of you sat in silence. Eddie knocked his knee against Robin’s. She knocked hers back. 

“Hey,” Steve rounded the corner. “What the hell are you guys doing, I’ve been looking for you for like twenty minutes,” he said, lacking malice. Almost soft. 

“Just admiring the sunset from this dumpster,” Eddie announced. 

“Looks to me like you’re third-wheeling, Munson.”

“What? Never.”

“Yeah, I, uh… think we’re pretty far beyond third wheeling in this relationship, Steve,” Robin said. “Or even fourth wheeling.”

“We’re a package deal,” Eddie added. “Like collectibles.”

“Collectables,” Steve narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, okay sure. Well, when you guys are done being weird, I’m ready to go.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow indignantly before hauling himself to his feet and sauntering over to Steve. 

“Don’t you have some infants to put to bed, Harrington?”

Steve pretended to bat him away before letting Eddie settle an arm around his neck. 

“No. They do have parents, in case you missed that.” Everyone knew that it didn’t really matter. Steve looked after them like they were his own. Always would. “Anyway, they’re all spending the night at Byers’ place as a going away party or something.”

“Well then,” Eddie pulled him closer. “Looks like we have Mama Steve all to ourselves.”

Robin blew some hair out of her face and clapped loudly. Grinning, you hid your face in her shoulder and kicked your legs. 

“Whatever, just don’t expect me to cook your dinner or do your laundry,” Steve muttered. Eddie shot forward to offer you and Robin each of his hands as you jumped off the dumpster. 

“Don’t you do that anyway?” Robin asked, crinkling her nose. 

“We love you, Steve,” you said, walking over to him -- he’d slowed down to let the three of you catch up -- and bumped your shoulder into his. 

“Yeah, I don’t wanna hear it,” he said, but you could hear the way he was fighting a smirk, and when he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, you knew that the sentiment had been returned. 

As the four of you made your way to Steve’s car, Robin skipped forward and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together. From the other side of the parking lot, the kids were all piling into Joyce and Hopper’s car. 

“There’s no way that’s safe,” she commented. 

“Clown car for sure,” Eddie said, taking a few exaggerated, floppy steps and honking an imaginary nose.”

“You’re the clown,” Steve muttered. 

Bathed in a dark blue glow like the backdrop on a stage, someone reached above the car and waved. Dustin, maybe. Probably Dustin. 

The four of you waved back. 

Robin didn’t let go of your hand. 

______________________________________________________________

No one was in the mood for swimming, but no one wanted to be inside either. Steve passed out a round of beers and then never got up to get any more. Unprompted, he said that his parents were supposed to be coming back in a few weeks. 

“Summer’s almost over,” he said, staring at the can in his lap. Little droplets of perspiration clung to his fingertips, slid down the dark, shiny aluminum. “Still, I thought they’d be away longer.” He shrugged lamely. “There’s still time.”

"It'll probably be weird, not being the only one living here again, huh?" Robin murmured. You leaned your cheek onto her thigh. The skin was soft and warm, and every breath you took smelled like Robin, chlorine, and the sweet summer night air. 

Steve looked up and glanced at Eddie, then at the two of you sitting across from him. 

“Haven’t really felt like I was the only one living here, though,” he said with another shrug, like he was trying to shut the conversation down before it got too far. 

All three of you knew what he meant. You didn’t need to say anything to know that you were thinking the same thing. Eddie and Robin and you, you’d all spent as much time here as you could -- almost as much time as Steve. There had been countless nights where he and Eddie had shared a bed, or all four of you had fallen asleep in a pile in the living room; nights where you and Robin had camped out on Steve’s bedroom floor, feeling like you were kids again having a sleepover, gossiping about what you were going to do during summer break or what you wanted to be when you grew up. 

But now you were grown up. High school was over forever; you all worked jobs, none of you had the aspirations nor the money for college, and you had no idea what lie for you beyond Hawkins. Sometimes you wondered if you even wanted to find out. Somehow you felt like no matter what you did, you’d always be a failure. In a lot of ways, you still felt like a kid sleeping on the floor of a friend’s bedroom with no worries bigger than what you were going to buy back-to-school shopping with your mom or which teachers you were going to get. 

You wished you could pretend that the summer nights on Steve’s floor would last forever like you used to when you were a kid. Nights that glowed softly with streetlamps from outside open windows and warm breezes and the sound of crickets had always felt like, if you squinted just enough, focused your mind just enough, they would never end. You’d always been able to convince yourself that you could freeze them right then and there and nothing would change. A perpetual summer of sleeping on a friend’s bedroom floor. But things had changed, and you’d gotten older, and now the world expected something from you. Something you didn’t feel ready to give. Something none of you felt ready to give. 

The world hadn’t given any of you a chance to be kids. Now, when it wanted you to be adults, you had no idea what to do. You were sinking. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered, picking at the fabric of your pants. They were a pair of Steve’s flannels. Somehow, none of you had thought to start keeping a change of clothes at his house, despite how long this had been going on. Or maybe you had thought of it, and the thought had been ignored. “I wish we could always be together like this.” 

The four of you taking on the world felt so much more bearable than facing it all by yourself. 

“Then… fuck it." Eddie's voice joined the night. "Why don’t we?” All three of you looked at him and, after a moment, he looked back. “Yeah. I mean, fuck it. We’re already failures, if you ask any respectable resident of Hawkins--” he pulled a face. “So, why shouldn’t we stick together? What’s stopping us?”

You felt Robin’s hand slide down your neck to the center of your shoulder blades. Her palm was warm, and her leg where your cheek was pressed was warm. 

“I mean,” Steve started, staring at the concrete but really looking somewhere far beyond it. “It’s not like I’ve got anything to lose besides you guys and a bunch of rugrats. King Steve is six feet under and turning fucking blue.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. You could feel her voice through her fingertips. “I never had much of a reputation anyway.”

In the silence, you all realized what was happening. A sort of pact made next to a glowing, mirror-surface pool, under a sky of dark indigo. Your only witnesses were the crickets and the stars and the echoing of a suburban neighborhood while everyone else was asleep. 

And nothing else was said about it, about Eddie’s fuck it or Steve’s I don’t have anything to lose besides you guys, but the silence allowed all four of you to understand, almost suddenly, that nights like these didn’t have to stop. Not for Steve’s parents, not for anybody. 

“Rent will be cheaper with four people,” Steve said, almost as an afterthought. 

And that was that.

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @alonezz , @gaysludge, @gray-cheese, @rare-breed-of-human, @vea-vea-vea, @lady-silkwing, @im-a-milf, @yourmanifestingbigsister, @bubbles0oo, @wormm-mom

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x f!reader #robin x reader #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley #st #st fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanficion #eddie munson #steve harrington #the party #dustin henderson #steve and dustin #steve and eddie #minor steddie #steve and reader #eddie and reader #steve and robin #eddie and robin #ao3 link

[kurogxrix]

me when the READER in the X READER has a name:

like babe the fic ate but i do NOT look like an Aurora🙁

#bucky barnes x reader #peter parker x reader #bruce wayne x reader #din djarin x reader #steve harrington x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #joel miller x reader #writing #fan fiction #fanfic #authors of tumblr #kurogxrix talks

[itshelia]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

#bucky barnes x reader #spencer reid x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #dick grayson x reader #eddie munson x reader #tate langdon x reader #tommy shelby x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #steve harrington x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #astarion x reader #bellamy blake x reader #daryl dixon x reader #din djarin x reader #ghost x reader #jake sully x reader #joel miller x reader #neteyam x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #kaz brekker x reader #mike schmidt x reader #peter parker x reader #sirius black x reader #marc spector x reader #rafe cameron x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #steven grant x reader #x reader #matt murdock x reader

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

#smut #relatable #neteyam x reader #jake sully x reader #lo’ak x reader #tonowari x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #draco malfoy x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #ellie williams x reader #harry potter x reader #rick grimes x reader #dean winchester x reader #neytiri x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #five hargreeves x reader #leon kennedy x reader #gojo satoru x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj mayback x reader

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

#don’t get me wrong #smut is great #but a girl wants some angst and fluff #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #matt murdock x reader #steven grant x reader #steve harrington x reader #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #derek morgan x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #marc spector x reader #javier pena x reader #ellie williams x reader #poe dameron x reader #cassian andor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #logan howlett x reader #daryl dixon x reader #simon riley x reader #bruce wayne x reader #l0caltiredgirl #mike schmidt x reader #sam carpenter x reader #emily prentiss x reader

[moonxnite]

y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?

#daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes x reader #roman roy x reader #coriolanus x reader #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #peeta mellark x reader #leon kennedy x reader #joel miller x reader #bucky x reader #eddie munson x reader #negan smith x reader #din djarin x reader #javier pena x reader #ari levison x reader #andy barber x reader #steve harrington x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #lalo salamanca x reader #nacho varga x reader #finnick x reader #mike schimdt x reader #william afton x reader #johnny lawrence x reader

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

Me: “fuck, I need his cock”

Him: *is literally just words on tumblr*

#natti’s 18+ #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #tom riddle x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader #peeta mellark x reader #finnick odair x reader #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader

[shelbybyr]

When you run out of fics to read

#jacob black x reader #seth clearwater x reader #edward cullen x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #draco malfoy x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #hermione granger x reader #damon salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore x reader #jax teller x reader #opie winston x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #kylo ren x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #ben hanscom x reader #joel miller x reader

[bethsvrse]

pov: I find a good smut fic but it includes a daddy kink

#I hate daddy kinks sm #I wanna start a petition to ban daddy kinks #joel miller x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #sirius black x reader #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #jim hopper x reader #derek hale x reader #steve rogers x reader #remus lupin x reader #steve harrington x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI I WILL HIT U WITH A CHAIR

Chapter 003: Best Buds

It’s BYOB (bring your own bud) night at Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. With everyone under the influence, things start to get… a little complicated.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 8k

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, brief smut, p in v sex, protected sex, implications that steve is a long boi voyeurism, marijuana use, alcohol use, sexual harassment, physical altercations, NSFW, talks of a daddy/master kink, stripping, pole dancing, mutual pining, flirting, mentions of previous sexual abuse, profanities

* AUTHORS NOTE AT END OF CHAPTER ❤️‍🔥 *

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Chapter 002 recap

"Doing it for Max," you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn't your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

Chapter 003

♡

“Hi I’m Hell, it’s nice to meet ya.”

“FUCK! Oh my god — fuck!”

Steve Harrington is definitely not a loser.

An assortment of mewls and profanities fill the hot air of Steve’s bedroom as he fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, the frame of his bed rattling to the speed of his deep, punishing thrusts.

It’s 7 AM.

Though you’re typically not an early riser, you’re more inclined to be if you were promised this type of treatment every day.

“Fuck!” you squeal again, knuckles sheet-white from how tightly you’re holding onto Steve’s linens. “Right there, Steve…”

Steve’s grip, meanwhile, rests at either side of your hips as he pistons himself further into your sopping, spongy heat. Too cock-drunk to even form a coherent sentence, you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head while you take his unforgiving length from behind.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” he coos. “You like how deep I feel inside of you?”

You nod. “Yes… yes…I-I love it.”

“Looks like I’m fucking you back to sleep again, aren’t I?”

“M—mhm,” you manage to purr, reaching for one of Steve’s hands to grab a hold of.

In fact you’re already seeing stars. Sex with Steve is an extravagant experience. Now that he’s comfortable in your presence, Steve spent all night performing for you, abusing your soaking cunt to the tempo of every song on his playlist, catering to your every need in the form of profound and agile strokes, exploring every inch of your body with his firm and knowledgable tongue, all while refusing to stop until you yourself were finished.

You chant his name aimlessly as he plows into you further, tucking a pillow above your head to protect you from any sharp wooden corners. Another thing Steve prioritizes as well? Your safety. All night it’s been your pleasure first before his own. Now you know why everyone in town calls him the King. 

“That’s it…” Steve praises you as you fall apart in front of him. He smacks you firmly across the ass. You whimper at the sensation, chasing your third orgasm of the hour by fucking him back, tossing your hips back onto him, not caring the slightest if it made you look desperate. You need his cock so bad. “That’s a good girl.”

CRASH!

Something falls from the bathroom at the end of the hall. A shampoo bottle maybe? It stuns you for a second, causing you to immediately reach for the top sheet to cover up your body. You listen for traces of his roommate’s presence.

“Uh…”

“Earthquake?” Steve jokes.

“Nope,” you smugly shake your head. “It’s just you.”

You rise from all fours to turn around and give Steve a quick kiss. Steve chuckles against your skin.

“Me? It’s a team effort, lady.”

“You’re right, it’s us.”

Steve wraps his arms around your waist and guides you back down onto the bed. Laying on your back now, you watch him as he spreads your legs apart. He smiles down at you as he lines himself up at your opening.

An impatient sigh escapes your mouth. He swoops down to silence you, planting a soft kiss onto your neck.

“Steve…” you whimper.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. “You’ll get it, just you wait.”

He continues to tease you, gliding his cock along the lining of your entrance. You bite your lip and shake your head, watching him as he glides, thrusting his tip in slowly before taking it back out once more. Then he slaps his cock against your puffy, glistening folds. Your whimpers grow louder.

“Are—” you lower your voice. “Are you sure we’re the only ones here?”

“Yeah,” Steve insists, mumbling against your ear. “The roomie’s with his sneaky link. We’re fine.”

“Birds of a feather,” you retort.

Steve flashes you a flirtatious glare. “I’d never keep you a secret.”

“Lies.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges you.

What did he mean by that?

A gasp escapes your mouth before it’s even registered. Steve is inside once again, pounding into you with a pace so exhilarating, the room around you starts to blur. The little time you had to prepare leaves you both with a healthy amount of friction and resistance. You’re nearly screaming now as pressure builds between your hips and in your stomach, your pleas for more growing louder and louder with every pummeling thrust.

“If you call that keeping a secret, you’re pretty bad at it,” Steve kindly retorts, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck, beads of sweat dripping down his pomade-sculpted hair onto your breasts.

“Oh m-my fucking god,” you squeal breathlessly. You’re silenced by Steve’s fingers as they assert themselves into your mouth.

“Oh my fucking god is right, babydoll.”

He issues a delicate slap across your face. You bite your lip, gazing up at him with lust-filled eyes. Snarky King Steve is your favorite Steve.

“Keep going, Steve. Don’t fucking stop.”

Before you know it, he’s bending you like a pretzel, your legs at his shoulders, knees to the tip of your earlobes. Steve slams himself into you, excruciatingly fast and balls deep, all while his hand explores your mouth, then jaw, then find a home around your throat. Another delicate slap brushes across your face with his other hand, followed by a “Yeah, baby take it”, causing you to mewl even louder.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other begin to sound more wet with every thrust, the moans you two exude bounce off the walls as you fuck into each other. You feel your walls tighten at the same time his head starts to twitch.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” Steve huffs. “Do I feel that fucking good? Are you about to make a mess on me?”

“Yes,” you attempt to say. “I’m such a messy girl, Steve.”

“That you are,” he swoons, swooping down to plant kisses all over your face. “Messy. Dirty. Naughty. And all mine.”

Four more aggressive pumps into you and you’re both done for.

“Oh my god…”

“Fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Ohhh fuck.”

Giggles take the place of moans as you and Steve collapse onto one another. You two lay there in disbelief, then share another laugh followed by a high five.

“Good game,” Steve jests.

“Rematch later?” you wink.

Although Steve doesn’t answer, you know it’s a yes. As you roll over to drift off into a small recovery nap you feel another slap land on your ass, followed by the sound of the trusty rubber rolling off your partner’s cock.

“So fucking beautiful.”

——

9 AM

After care is essential for Steve. Lover boy loves to cuddle. He’s there when you wake up, arms snaked around you, with gleaming eyes and a rather itchy peach fuzz that you didn’t stumble upon until he was giving raspberries to your neck.

“You lasted longer this time,” you comment teasingly. You issue him a delicate boop on the nose.

“Yeah, cuz we’ve been doing it all night,” Steve tsks. “You caught me off guard the first time around, Hargrove.”

You pout. “Aww. Was I kicking you when you were already down?”

Steve pulls you to his chest, giving you a squeeze the further you lean into him. “You absolutely were, you devil woman.” He kisses your forehead and beams down at you with a smile.

“Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

So you two rinse up together, and Steve lets you borrow one of his t-shirts to parade around his luxury townhouse in. He did offer you some basketball shorts he had lying around on his couch, but you decide that hopefully, in just his shirt and your new lace black panties, it would entice him for round five.

Suddenly your phone buzzes. It’s Max.

Hey where r u?

You bite your fingernails as you contemplate a believable answer. Where could you possibly be if your supposed shift ended two hours ago?

Post shift mimosas with coworkers. Be back around noon.

You wait. Buzz.

As you should 🤪

You smile before exiting out of your conversation with Max. It vanishes quickly when you remember there’s still a text you haven’t responded to.

What the actual fuck.

It’s been a week now since Billy sent that text. And with him being the type to spam, it’s strange that he hasn’t called or texted again. Especially since it had been Max’s birthday.

You shudder, overwhelmed with a sense of panic yet again. In hopes of postponing reality to the next day, you plant your phone face down onto Steve’s bedside table. It all made you feel stupid. Like an infant who believed they were hiding just by closing their eyes.

You walk out into the hallway and find Steve in the kitchen, frantically trying to find you something to eat.

“We need to go shopping again,” Steve announces. “So the only choices right now are eggs, sausage, toast, cereal..and the Cuties over there.”

You make your way over to grab a tangerine while you browse the cereal section. 

“Well, I had sausage this morning,” you joke. “And a cutie. So I’ll go with eggs and toast please.”

“Coming right up. Sunny side?”

“Scrambled.”

“Anything for you.”

You claim a seat at the messy kitchen island, decorated by mountains of bills and guy stuff galore. As Steve is cooking, you sit and admire the man who Hawkins calls the King.

Steve tries. It shows in everything he does. Behind every positive attribute about the man, looms a cautionary energy accompanied by a sense of guilt. It’s almost if “King Steve” refuses to take up space. Something, or someone, made him this way. Made him so guarded and delicate, yet so willing to give and help.

Before you know it, Steve hands you your Shy Girl-tailored breakfast, fluffy golden eggs with golden buttered toast to match, served with a glass of orange juice on the side. You thank him and he nods, tossing a dish rag over his shoulder and walking to the sink to clean up. With how sweet Steve is with you in bed and on a friendship level, the sole idea of him makes you wonder what he’d be like — years from now — as his one real dream: a husband, a dad…

The sound of a toilet flushing jolts you back into focus. Both you and Steve freeze in place.

“Shit,” Steve sighs.

Roomie is home.

Steve quickly wipes his hands and darts to his room, scurrying to find a shirt to mask the hickeys you left on his chest. Meanwhile you scramble to the couch to find the basketball shorts you passed him up on earlier. You didn’t want to give his roommate the wrong impression, though you kind of feel like you did, screaming like a banshee because you thought no one was home.

You’re tunnel-visioned as you scan the couch for shorts. Let’s see… TV remote, no — football, no — random backpack and baseball cap —

Wait. Is that a Hellfire shirt?

Your eyes widen. It can’t be. Steve wouldn’t withhold such vital information from you, would he? Maybe Steve really likes supporting Eddie’s business.

But then you think about it. You really think about it.

You think about Steve’s comment he made as he was leaving Hellfire. "Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home."

At home.

“The roomie won't be home…”

The use of “the roomie” instead of “my roomie”. Typically “the” is only used if someone knows of the person being mentioned. At least that’s how you yourself word things anyway.

“The roomie’s with his sneaky link.”

Eddie’s lady friend. Eddie only goes to see her during the most ungodly hours because she’s a bartender.

You feel so stupid. For more reasons than one.

Eventually you find Steve’s basketball shorts and throw them on, running back to the kitchen island where you then try to play cool. You turn back to the scattered envelopes laying around the island — all addressed to an Edward Munson.

In the words of your twin brother, what the actual fuck.

“WOOO — Harrington!” a familiar sing-song voice echoes from down the hall. “You definitely don’t wanna go in there!”

You recognize that voice from anywhere.

Whistling sounds from the end of the narrow hall. Coming out of the bathroom was none other than your boss, dressed down in a black muscle tank that revealed his avant-garde black and white tattoos, and royal blue gym shorts. His hair was up in a messy half-bun, the loose curls that were too short tie up are a cluster of anarchy around his face.

You make it into Eddie’s periphery, but he doesn’t do a double take until he realizes it’s you.

“Oh hey!” he greets you, somewhat expressionless. “You on tonight?”

As if seeing you in his apartment is the most casual thing ever. 

You’re completely swamped with humiliation. It’s bad enough that Eddie practically heard you scream bloody murder, but now he knows exactly what you’re like in bed. He knows how you like to be handled. How embarrassingly cock-drunk you get when your partner hits the right spot. How pornographic and raunchy you act when you’re with the right person.

You’re also dressed like Adam Sandler. So there’s that.

It takes everything in you not to grab your stuff and leave. But it is that same ick in your body that keeps you glued onto the bar stool of the island.

“Y-yeah,” you huff. “Sure, I’ll work.”

“Totally should…” Eddie sings again. “Midweek is always popping. Everyone always wants a lil sumn sumn on Friday Junior-Junior.”

You study Eddie as he strides over to the fridge, insipid and unbothered. Tired, if anything. 

Steve comes out of his room with his own Hellfire shirt on, trying his best to keep his cool as he clears his throat. “I, uh… I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

“That makes the three of us,” Eddie laughs dryly as he rummages through the fridge. “But here I am…”

You observe him as he hums along to a random tune, scanning the fridge for something quick and easy. He settles for what looks like coffee creamer, which brings you back to the time that Dustin said Eddie operates on coffee and an empty stomach. 

You try to focus on something else. Anything. Eyes-a-wandering, you catch sight of Steve’s old championship trophies from his high school swim meets, pictures of him and his boujee ass family at TopGolf, pictures of him with old friends at an actual golf course, glass cups from breweries all around Indiana and The States, and the expensive smart electronics that ornamented the place.

But not a single trace of Eddie and his life or family. The mystery of him sucks you in a little more.

Eddie stalks towards you, extending an arm across to pick up the bills waiting for him on the table. The world stops for a moment.

“Sorry for the mess,” Eddie apologizes. “The maid took the night off.”

An inferno pools at your cheeks. Was the ‘mess’ remark a jab towards you? Your thighs clench when the flashbacks of morning sex with Steve replay in your head. “Are you about to make a mess on me?”

“You’re fine,” you manage to say.

Eddie proceeds to pour himself a drip coffee then douses it in an unreasonable amount of hazelnut creamer.

You cringe at the sight. Sometimes a crush is just a lack of information.

Steve attempts to speak to serve as a filler for awkward tension, but you beat him to it.

“S-”

"So," you press. "How are things with the lady friend?"

Eddie makes a sour face. "Called it off," he shrugs. "Well, she did."

Your ears slightly perk up.

You feign a tone of dismay. "Oh no! What happened?”

"Guess our lifestyles don't mesh well with one another,” Eddie rolls his eyes, as if he knew it was some sort of excuse. He draws on about the ordeal. “She doesn't like that I'm always at work. I can only see her in the early hours of the morning, and with the amount of paperwork I have to do, I’d honestly rather be spending my free time sleeping or playing video games."

"Well, you should stop working so much,” Steve suggests. “It could help balance shit out more.”

Eddie snaps his neck at Steve.

"You think I didn't think about that already?" he scowls through gritted teeth. "It’s like the moment Eddie's gone, everyone forgets how to do their jobs. I always gotta come in to make sure they’re all staying on task.”

He turns to you.

“Take Mike for instance,” he explains. “Fucking chickenwithhisheadcutoff. Lights are on, but nobody’s home.”

You laugh.

“He was the one who forgot to take inventory on the 10th and 11th,” Eddie pops a scoop full of Honey Combs into his mouth. “Yet he was asking me if he could bring his girlfriend to the club.”

“Ohh,” is all you can say.

“I don’t mind all that lovey dovey shit,” Eddie mutters between bites. “But if it’s gonna distract him from working, that’s where there’s a problem.”

“Totally reasonable dude,” you agree.

“Yeah, Mike gets really distracted when El’s around,” Steve pitches in.

Eddie nods. “Ed’s got his own set of rules for a reason. The Munson Doctrine is a byproduct of when all the things that can possibly go wrong, have gone wrong.”

You watch Eddie stroll towards the windows by the balcony and prop them open, an indicator that he’s about to smoke. He grabs a tiny bowl that he seemed to know was laying around and loads it up with bud. He lights up and takes several large hits.

“So what’s everyone’s plans for tonight?” Eddie questions eyes darting between you both.

You and Steve didn’t think that far.

“Not too sure yet,” Steve answers for you two. “I do know we gotta go shopping again.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie nods towards the cereal. “Tired of eating hamster food every morning.”

Eddie takes another hit, coughing away the excess like a madman.

“I’m hosting another BYOB night at Hellfire with the frens again,” Eddie continues once he calms down. “Been a minute. You should swing by.”

“Bring your own booze?” you ask.

“Getting warmer.” Eddie replies.

“Beer?”

“Cooler now.”

“Then what?”

“Bud,” Eddie replies raspily, nodding at his own amusement. “We’re still a red state, so we get our shit from Illinois. BYOB is specifically for the party. Edibles only, for obvious reasons. Still a fun time though.”

“Cross-faded on a random Tuesday, what’s more enticing than that?” Steve says. You’re not sure if he’s sarcastic or not.

“Exactly, Harrington!” Eddie hollers. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Is Nance gonna be there?”

Record scratch. Eddie looks at Steve like he asked a dumb question.

“She works there.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve glares at Ed.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Is Nancy gonna be at the table? No, probably not. You know her. Total opposite of Mike. When she’s at work, she’s at work.”

“Yeah...” Steve mutters with a sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll think about it. What else ya doing today before this?”

Eddie explains that after paperwork and grocery shopping, he plans to go over to Chrissy’s place to look at her car. It causes your heart to flutter. Business owner, manager, cook, music fanatic, and mechanic? Mr. Jack-of-All-Trades after your heart again.

Eddie shakes his head, evidently overwhelmed with all the responsibilities on his lap. “Hellfire would crash and burn without Cherry.”

“Wow, you do so much,” you comment, attempting to uplift him. He grins at your remark. You decide keep going. “Anything you can’t do?”

You feel Steve stare between you both, then clear his throat as he paces around the kitchen.

“Stop it,” Eddie chuckles, growing slightly flustered with his pink-tainted cheeks. “Kinda true though. I do everything and anything.”

“Yeah, especially for Chrissy Cunningham,” Steve jeers.

“That’s also true,” Eddie shrugs, attempting to conceal his now fully flustered face. “We done now?”

“We are actually,” Steve says. “Lucky for you, I gotta go get ready.”

Steve shoots you a wink and then excuses himself back to his room. Meanwhile, it’s just you and the other man you have a burning crush on.

Something shifts when Steve disappears. To shake off the unknown feeling that’s mingling in the air, you make your way over to the fridge. You hope that pretending to be busy excuses you from another conversation.

But before you know it, you feel Eddie’s stern — and marijuana-laced — breath on you just moments later. The torment is never ending.

The moment you turn, you’re met with Eddie’s big brown eyes. He speaks first.

“I was joking, you know.”

Whatever banter that was being exchanged earlier has now switched off. The pitch of Eddie’s voice has dropped a few frequencies, and that act alone captures your attention. Shooting your gaze towards him, your brow lifts.

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to work tonight,” he elaborates shoving his hands into his pockets. “We’re well staffed. There’s a seat for you at the table… if you’d like to come with.”

“I’m your friend?”

“I thought it was clear.”

“You haven’t even taken me to lunch yet.”

“You haven’t given me the chance.”

Fair play, Munson. Eddie waits for you to talk. You study your superior as he studies you, his chocolate eyes slowly becoming eclipsed by the widening of his jet black pupils. Hunger was unknown feeling that was mingling. It’s burning in your stomach now. Its essence that lingered between you both is the only thing keeping you two from standing any closer.

“Cross faded on a Tuesday,” you repeat Steve’s sentiment. “Sounds like a Friday ordeal.”

“Well when you work as much as I do, you try to make every day feel like Friday.”

Oh this man is stressed stressed. Something in Eddie’s hopeful stare convinces you that a simple “yes” would make him a little happier about tonight. But you don’t want to seem too into it.

“I’ll think about it,” you tease.

“Ah, come on…” Eddie tuts. “Steve will be there.”

You blush.

“And your ol’ boss,” Eddie ominously adds, propping his shoulder against the fridge as he leans. “If that counts for anything.”

Another loose strand of hair from his bun falls across his face. He shakes it away with a cinematic nod. You feel stupid for falling for your Eddie’s natural charisma. He does it with everybody, you remind yourself. It’s what makes him a good business man. You aren’t anything special.

“Will there be wings?” you decide to deal the inside joke you share.

“Flats only,” Eddie insists, feeding into it.

“Now that sounds like a good time.”

“Always is, sweetheart,” Eddie grins. “Can’t wait for you to experience it.”

Before he too excuses himself, Eddie hugs you, doing the verbal kiss on the side of your cheek once more before letting go. It never fails to leave you in a puddle.

No rizz, my ass Dustin, you think to yourself.

“See you there then, gorgeous?”

“You sure will.”

And just as quickly as Eddie disappears, Steve returns, sporting a basic grey Patagonia tee and khaki colored Dickies. His sunglasses dangle from the center collar of his shirt, his green and yellow “Camp Know Where” dad hat clipped onto the same belt loop that housed the keys to his BMW.

He meets you halfway by the island, giving you a soft kiss once more.

“I’ll let you hold onto that shirt,” he says. “It looks good on you.”

“Why thank you,” you reply. “Smells just like you too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck just as he does your waist before they explore the birthmark region of your lower back. Your breath hitches.

“I should probably stop,” Steve bites his lip. “I gotta walk you to your car.”

“I know, maybe next time,” you frown. “Also, you didn’t tell me Eddie’s your roommate.”

Steve’s face falters slightly. “I… didn’t think it’d matter.”

He’s right. Ultimately it didn’t matter. If you didn’t shut up, you’d tell right on yourself.

“I know!” you end up saying way too enthusiastically. “It’s just that he, uh, heard everything.”

Steve dismisses it. “Let him,” he says. “I’m sure he hears and sees it all at the club anyways.”

Steve bites the bullet and gives your ass cheeks a tight squeeze. “Besides, he can watch if he’d like. We’ll give him a little show…”

Your breathing scatters again, to which you give Steve a playful nudge.

“You’re unbelievable.That’s where your dirty little mind goes?”

“What can I say?” King Steve smirks, forehead pressed against yours now. “I’m a voyeur.”

“Clearly,” you wink.

Birds of a feather. As much as you didn’t want it to, your mind wanders back to Eddie and how he is most likely a voyeur too. Why else would Hellfire be an asset of his?

The entire commute home is spent fantasizing about both Steve and Eddie. You have absolutely no idea what you're doing and what to do in this situation. Would this even be considered a triangle considering how casual everything appears to be?

With everything unknown there is one thing is for sure: tonight, both of them are getting some kind of show from you.

—————————————————

‘Friday Junior Junior’ is relatively staffed.

Mike and Dustin flicker across the room, darting back and forth to bus tables as soon as customers leave. Skating on the thin ice he’s on, Mike works quickly and efficiently, while Dustin takes his sweet time, attempting to multitask while talking to Suzie, one AirPod in at all times.

“Yeah, babe, I’m in Kas’ Korner,” Dustin lies. “Doing some food packing.”

You watch him as he wipes the table quickly after spraying some cleaning solution onto it, eyes glued to the job in front of him instead of center stage. He does sneak a quick glance at Chrissy, though. Then looks around to see if anyone noticed. You do, but you pretend not to. It’s funny. 

“I’ve seen her get richer in the pole, I’ve seen her. I knew she had to know.”

You're sat between Steve and Eddie at the VIP table, watching Chrissy alongside everyone else. Joining you three are Argyle and Henry, who both were miraculously able to find themselves coverage. Jim is bouncer for tonight, while Lucas has the kitchen covered after months of begging Eddie and Argyle to let him cook.

Looking over at Steve, you see him beaming up at Chrissy and decide to join him in showering her with his — many — dollar bills. Argyle joins in too, to your concern since he promised the group he'd buy everyone drinks when you guys all go bar-hopping later.

"Chrissy is amazing," you sigh, shaking your head in pure admiration for the starlet dancing in front of you.

"Isn't she?" Eddie responds. He delves into his pocket to pull out his phone. "All the ladies here are pure and absolute fuego."

Drawing your attention to his device, Eddie opens an album in his camera roll titled, "Hellfire Girls". He starts showing you short clips of the dancers, one by one, explaining what they're doing and how in awe he is of them.

“I notice that the girls like wearing pasties for tops that tend to have spaghetti straps or very little fabric coverage,” he says. “Or for when they don't feel like showing their tits. Saves you too when The Girls decide to pop out when you’re upside down. Always the fucking left one too."

You giggle at his remark.

The eloquence and respect Eddie has about the female body and wardrobe mechanics has you enticed. It's evident how much Eddie respects women and values their comfort. But he is also a man, and it's no secret that someone like him enjoys watching. And Eddie is never shy to admit when he likes what he sees.

He shows you another video of another dancer, Emmy.

“Emmy’s a fucking beast,” Eddie gushes. “She can do a split right from her side straddle. Kassidy’s the same, but the Pegasus is more of her strength. Lady’s got arms and core for days. It’s fucking hot."

He swipes again.

"And Justice knows how to do a Dragon's Tail, it’s a crowd favorite.”

Eddie's already had a few drinks tonight, so the filter he already seemed to lack is practically non-existent now. Steve is on the same boat, downing his third cocktail and not giving a damn how much he blows tonight on the dancers. You all the while, are one dangerous cocktail in and are already horny out of your mind. It doesn't help that Jonathan has a heavy pour, and that every drink he makes tastes like juice.

"Cheers to that," you smirk, raising your glass to clink with Eddie's.

“I’ve seen her take down that tequila. Down by the liter. I knew I had to meet her.”

"Maketh way everyone," Henry announces, asserting himself back into the VIP section after leaving not too long ago. “Bottle service a-la-Henry."

You turn to Hellfire’s bouncer, who ditched the casual attire tonight for a more classy black formal suit and a matching Rolex watch. His sandy blonde hair is extra sleeked up and away from his face. According to Henry, he never usually dresses up unless there's a special occasion. You suppose BYOB night is one of those events.

Henry acknowledges the cocktail in your hand before nodding towards the bottle of Don Julio that he’s holding.

"Tell me, Shy Girl," Henry starts. "You up to ditch that for something a bit more challenging?"

Eddie fires a curious look towards the interaction.

You eye the Don Julio that was luring you in, and ultimately decide to take Henry up on it. Flashing him a sinister smile, you instruct him, “Hit me.”

Henry slowly starts towards you, tilting your chin upwards once he pops the cap open. With your consent he starts to pour the tequila down into your mouth.

Fuck being responsible tonight.

An array of "WOOO"s and "OHHH"s fill the air around the VIP section as everyone cheers, shocked that you’re able to chug all of that without it burning. Little did they know, Don Julio tastes just like home. Well, south of the border from home.

After holding down your own fort for way too long, you've decided that someone else needs to be handed that baton for tonight. Since you didn't tell Henry to stop, you're still chugging what he was pouring into your mouth. You know it’s risky, especially since you had two edible gummies several minutes ago as well.

“Oh my god,” Eddie gawks as you settle for a final gulp.

“Shy Girl’s not so shy,” Steve comments, absent-mindedly, arms wrapped around your waist as he keeps you propped upwards. "Good job, baby. That's how you do it."

“That’s it, Hargrove," Henry smirks. "Swallow all that for me?”

You peer up at him and hold your eye contact as you swallow, making sure Henry knows that there's no more alcohol left in your mouth. Everyone knows you championed that shit. When you’re done, he wipes the remnants of tequila off your bottom lip.

"This one's dangerous, Eds," he comments, completely shocked by what he just witnessed.

"Don't I know it," Eddie breathes. "Not really living up to the Shy Girl name, are we Hargrove?"

You feel Steve's grip around your waist tighten. Assuming he was being possessive over you, you turn to offer him your undivided attention. Instead, you end up looking over at a clearly intoxicated Steve, leaning onto you for gait support as he smothers you with affectionate kisses all over your shoulders, ear, and neck.

"Shy Girl," Steve mumbles. "Shy Girl Hargove... Not-So-Shy-Shy-Girl."

You turn back to Eddie, meeting those carnivorous eyes once again. He's breathing heavily against you now, that this time he's not even hiding it.

"Yeah well the Shy Girl thing is all an act," you quip at Eddie flirtaciously. "Looks like there's still a lot for you to learn about me."

Eddie rolls his tongue around in his cheek as he eyes you up and down. He presses his palm gently onto your knee that rested closer to him and rubs it. "Can I crash your class then? Professor?"

Before you can respond, Chrissy bounces her way on over, ecstatic over the amount of tips she made.

"Wh- are you guys all drinking without me?" she exclaims when she approaches the table.

You turn to see her pouting ever so playfully, but then smiling when Argyle hands her a shot of the Don Julio. She too downs it like it's water.

"WOOO!" Chrissy cheers, raising the empty shot glass into the air. "To Hellfire Club!"

"To Hellfire Club!" everyone follows.

Everyone resumes taking shots and celebrating once again, this time with Chrissy joining the party. You watch Eddie as he feeds her an edible, another one allegedly, upon her request. He rests a delicate hand on her cheek, watching her chew, then grazes her cheek when she swallows the gummy, eyes glued on him the entire time.

“Good girl,” he mouths.

Chrissy flashes a playful, flirty grin before excusing herself from the table to go and give patrons a dance. She is stopped midway by a familiar, friendly face.

"Aht, aht," the friendly face stops her. "Not so fast, missy. I have some stuff for you."

"Oh, that's right!" Chrissy giggles. "Thanks, Nance."

To Steve's utter shock, House Mom Nancy makes her way to the VIP table. You feel him tense beside you, attempting to sit up straight and pretend that he's sober. You and Steve take in Nancy's effortless beauty, the way her straight brown hair was neatly kept in a bun, black square neck cocktail dress with transparent black tights underneath fitting her body like a glove, with nails that were always cleaned, polished, and painted a neutral color. Nancy is always so effortlessly pretty, but tonight she looked extra good.

“Here are your extra pasties, love,” Nancy reports while handing Chrissy her boob tape. “And also some spare bobby pins.”

“Thank you!” Chrissy chimes.

Nancy proceeds to take Chrissy's tips, tucking them neatly into a pouch that has a cherry design on it. As she finishes up with Chrissy, Nancy's eyes travel over to meet Steve’s. 

“Hello, Steve,” she attempts.

“Hey, Nance,” Steve says, eyes filled with sorrow.

Nancy’s eyes fall onto you. The air seems awkward now, most likely because Nancy read the room and figured out that you and Steve are probably sleeping together. You can’t hide your thoughts. Your face speaks for you, and judging by the way you struggle to make eye contact with your house mom, she knows now that you know of her and Steve's history.

“Hey you!” Nancy cheers, trying to mask the tension.

“Hey Nance!” you join in. “How are you tonight?”

“Good,” she smiles. “Not working tonight?”

“No, just here to support Chrissy,” you smile back.

“Awesome!”

If Argyle and Henry didn't know you two are hooking up, they sure as hell knew now. They exchange a lightning quick glance at once another and do their best not to do anything that could potentially worsen the situation. Not that it was bad. It was just painfully awkward.

It’s silent for a bit before Nancy clears her throat. “Okay then, I’ll see you guys later.”

All of you bid goodbye to Nancy and try to carry on with the rest of the night. The boys have no issue going back to what they were doing. Meanwhile, you look over at Steve who has gone pale and looks like he is about to throw up.

You rest a hand on top of his. Steve flinches before turning to look at you.

“Are you okay?” you question him.

He sighs and nods. “I will be.”

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you remind him. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

"You're right," Steve frowns. He grabs your hand to kiss it. "Thanks for being so patient with me."

"Of course," you insist.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom to freshen up," he says before ruffling your hair. "I'll be right back."

Your eyes trail after Steve to ensure his safety as he saunters over to the bathroom. When he makes it safe, you turn your attention back to the boys who are, of course, talking about sex.

"Alright you guys," Argyle speaks up. "Let's talk about it. Do you guys have a daddy kink?"

You're intrigued. You gaze travels over to Henry and Eddie who are trying to contain their excitement on the topic. They're trying to act like this is not something they wanted to talk about, but judging by how tightly they're holding onto their drinks and fixing the way they were sitting a little bit too often, they are more than giddy about this topic. Or anything sex-related.

"No not really," Henry shrugs. "But master kink, yeah. I like to be called master and all that stuff."

"Ooh, you're one of those freaky ass fools," Argyle says. "I see, I see. Eddie what about you?"

"Do we really have to talk about this?" Eddie chuckles.

"We sure do, you little freak," Argyle nudges him.

Eddie laughs to himself, staring down at the bottle of beer he's currently drinking. Slowly, he starts to nod, causing your heart to do sommersaults. This night keeps on getting better.

"Yeah..." Eddie answers. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"What's the reason behind your daddy kink?"

"Just think it's hot," Eddie shrugs. "I like taking care of the girl while she unravels right under me. Think it's also a power thing. I like taking over."

"You a choker?"

"Dude, am I?" Eddie exclaims. "Fuuuck yeah! I'm like the fucking waiter at Olive Garden with the grated cheese. Tell me when to stop."

The boys burst out in laughter. Eddie continues with an explanation.

"Cuz I'll keep going."

You are too cross-faded for this right now. Your environment starts to get hot, and you can't tell if it's because of the alcohol or the information Eddie was dumping on everyone causing your cheeks to flush.

"And you know what they say," Henry adds. "Everything is about sex, but sex is about power."

"Power, women, same thing," Eddie says. "Fucking love it."

His eyes fixate on you.

"What about you Shy Girl?" Eddie questions you, his voice deepening. "What are you into?"

Chrissy's screams could not have come at a better time. The whole club nearly pans their attention to her when as shrieks.

“You fucking dickhead!”

Startled, Eddie shoots up. “What? What the fuck happened?”

“I turn around to straddle him and his dick was out.”

You look over to where Chrissy is.

Absolutely fuming, Eddie turns to Henry.

“Creel..."

"Oh I am so glad I am not on the clock," Henry fumes. "I'm gonna fuck him up so bad."

You watch as Henry removes the black blazer he has on along with his watch and shoes before darting towards Chrissy and her perverted patron. You are about to witness what you have been warned about.

"Put that back in your fucking pants dude, what the hell are you doing?" you hear him demand.

"I was just-"

"Quiet. I don't wanna hear it."

"She was talking me up all nice. Not my fault this bitch can't put out."

You turn to Eddie and swear that his eyes have gone black. Yet he refrains from going there himself. He knows well enough that he can't get involved as a manager. There would be a lot at stake if he did.

After arguing back and forth with the customer, Henry digresses when he realizes he's talking to an arrogant brick wall. That's when the unthinkable happens. You watch as the customer practically flies out of his seat, at his mercy now that he is in Henry's unbelievably tight grip. He tries to fight it, swatting at Henry's hand, attempting to kick him in the groin. Henry seems amused. As if that poor customer has a chance.

You almost hear a SNAP.

"Oooh," you hear the crowd hiss painfully.

The customer wails helplessly on the floor as Henry continues to have his way with him. Chrissy, extremely overwhelmed, dashes to the bathroom as she puts her cloak back on, trying to hide the fact that her face is now completely red and full of tears.

Your eyes pan back over to the customer who is now sprawled out onto the floor. Henry abandons him after hissing a cruel, "Get your shit together then get the fuck out" at him and spitting onto him.

He excuses himself to go get Jim to drag him out. You're way too stunned to say anything to him, eyes glued on the customer whose limbs are now bent to a perfect 90 degree angle, neck seemingly displaced, shoulders misaligned with every other part of his body. There's a pool of blood and sweat on the floor. Or maybe that's piss.

"These assholes need to be mindful of how they treat women," Henry snaps when he returns. "Cuz one of these days, they're gonna find the One."

It's difficult for chaos to phase you now, especially since physical confrontations like this used to occur every day at home. But nothing could have prepared you for the aftermath of getting fucked up by Henry.

“Jesus,” you heave. “I didn’t know the human body could bend like that.”

“Naturally it can’t,” Henry corrects you.

“Evident by the bones snapping all willy-nilly,” Argyle adds.

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that, thanks,” you reply.

Eddie sneaks up behind you.

“Told you it was grody,” he says.

Steve emerges from the bathroom, slightly less pale, but still heavily intoxicated. He looks over at the customer, eyes wide.

"Jesus." You can tell he already knows what happened. Steve also seems to know who took care of that person. "I always tell myself I'l get used to it, but damn."

You go over to embrace him. He embraces you back, kissing you across the forehead with his liquor heavy breath. Although you wanted to be with him for the rest of the night, you knew he had to go home. When Steve glances elsewhere, you confiscate his car keys. Eddie guides Steve back to his seat at the VIP table, giving him small words of encouragement as they go.

"That's it, easy there, Big Guy. Almost there. You good?"

You stride over to POTIONS where Dustin just so happens to be now. Judging by how close he and Steve are, you trust him to take him home.

"Dustin," you begin.

"Yes, m'lady," he answers.

"You mind staying with Steve for me?" you request. "I'm gonna be with Chrissy for a bit, but I think he might be ready to go home. I'm not sober so I can't take his car."

"Oh no," Dustin peers over at Steve. "Let me guess, he saw Nancy?"

"Yup," you confirm handing Steve’s keys to Dustin. “They said two whole words to each other."

"That's two more than they usually do," Dustin mutters, accepting the keys from you. “But yeah, I got you. I'll be right there."

You let the men be men, re-enacting Henry’s bone-snapping marathon with the customer. Ditching them, you make your way to the bathroom, where you saw Chrissy run to, to check on her. The sound of sniffling in the stall furthest at the back is the first thing you hear.

“Chrissy?” you call out. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insists.

A gag followed by some a mass that sounds like vomit shooting into the toilet contradicts that statement completely. Chrissy continues to throw up profusely as you make your way over, crawling under the stall to get to your new friend.

Chrissy is hugging the toilet now, clinging onto it for dear life as if it were going to run away from her.

"Room's spinning," she justifies.

“Yeah, you are most definitely not fine," you sigh. You pat her back to console her. "Are you just overwhelmed by everything? How many milligrams did you take?”

“How many are in three?”

“Jesus Christ!" you shout. "Chrissy!"

“They weren’t doing shit,” Chrissy pouted. “I felt like I needed something strong…” she’s interrupted by her own gagging once more. “Stronger. The edibles just weren't kicking in…”

“So we wait, love!” you exclaim. “We wait for them to kick in. We don’t take it upon ourselves, especially if one gummy is 20 milligrams.”

“Waiting around is for chumps.”

The room falls silent as Chrissy proceeds to self soothe, spitting remnants of her emesis into the toilet and focusing on her breathing. You decide to speak up again.

“How do you feel after what just happened?”

“I don’t,” she answers. “Eventually, you just grow numb to it. It’s part of the profession.”

“Harassment shouldn't be part of the profession."

"But it is."

"It shouldn't! Surely we can get Henry and Jim to do more training so this doesn't happen. We can take self defense classes?"

Chrissy sits up. She turns to face you, running a hand through your hair.

“Oh my baby,” she pouts. “My dear Baby Stripper. You’ve got some shit to experience before you truly know that none of this shit is preventable." She looks off into the distance. "You’re very brave for wanting to do this. I always used to tell girls who want to get into the industry to run as fast as they can."

You're no stranger to harassment and abuse, but you couldn't imagine what strippers go through on a daily basis. Unwanted gestures, having genitals exposed to them that they did not intend on seeing, stalking, retaliation, violence, kidnapping attempts. And these poor men and women who are just trying to make a living have to just accept it.

"There's so much I don't know about the industry," you admit to her. "And to a certain degree I am still naive about it all."

"That's why I'm so protective of you."

"I'll be fine, Chrissy," you reassure her. "I'm more worried about you. You're such a cute little cinnamon roll, I'm the protective one."

"You're so sweet," she says. "You have to promise me that you're gonna say something if anyone tries shit with you."

"Of course," you nod. You start to get scared. Chrissy is saying all this as if it was bound to happen tomorrow.

"And that if anyone at all seems like a threat, you let Jim, Henry, or Eddie know right away," Chrissy continues. "And Jonathan is in on it too. Just ask him for an angel shot and he'll know exactly what to do."

"Mhm," you nod again. "Yeah, you got it."

The extents women have to go through to keep safe...You shudder in fear. It's only temporary, you remind yourself. It's only temporary.

It's not too long after the incident that everyone, the party included, decides to disperse. Argyle volunteers to take Chrissy home and they leave in his van. Henry stays behind and talks with Jim, explaining to him what exactly went down with that one customer. Meanwhile, Steve is sitting at the VIP table, nearly passed out, but Eddie and Dustin work together to get him to his feet.

“Alright,” Dustin announces. “I’m taking Steve home before he starts simping over Nancy again.”

"Shut up, dude," Steve mumble, using nearly all his body weight to lean on Dustin.

You walk over to give Steve one last embrace, leaving a delicate kiss on his cheek as he drunkenly sways back and forth in your grip.

“Goodnight Steve,” you smile.

“Goodnight beautiful,” Steve says. “I’ll text you when I’m home safe.”

“Please,” you encourage him. “And drink water.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles hazily. “You drink water.”

After they leave, you return to the VIP table to order yourself an Uber. You're still intoxicated, but it's simmered to a buzz now. Before you can even navigate to the app, some tight jeans and combat boots make their way towards you, keys to a certain van out back jingling around his fingers.

“Ready, Shy Girl?” Eddie asks you.

“Huh? For what?”

“I’m taking you home.”

_____________

author’s note: thank you so much for all your kind words regarding this fic thus far!! 🥹 and thank you for being so patient as i had a family emergency this week so posting was delayed! didn’t wanna rush posting either because i care about the quality of my work and you guys deserve the best!! i added a bunch of y’all to the tag list and am so excited to have you guys along for the ride. revising/editing ch 4 as we speak :)

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tag list: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe , @hideoutside , @motherfckerrr , @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23 , @sidthedollface2

#Spotify #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #hellfire club #steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #Steve and Eddie #steddie and reader #Eddie and reader #steve and reader #Chrissy Cunningham

[chickenfics]

the way I love the ocean

Relationship: Robin Buckley x Female!Reader

Summary: It was the summer of ‘87. Nothing in your life had prepared you for Robin, but somehow everything had begun falling into place. It all started with a movie and a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and suddenly you were dancing to a Jukebox in a long-closed diner, or racing down the length of a pier, swimming in the moon-dipped lake and walking her home down yellow-lit streets, talking about the way The Smiths sound like indigo and the best time of the summer is when the fireflies start to come out.

It was the summer of ‘87, and you were falling in love.

Word Count: 6.8k

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Chapter 6: Interlude for a Mixtape in the Making

You opened your eyes to the brightness of the sun streaming through unfamiliar windows. Your back hurt and your legs ached, and you had a pounding headache -- but despite all that, something inside you felt light; lighter than it had ever been before. You were almost afraid you’d start floating toward the ceiling. In fact, maybe you would have if your head wasn’t pounding as much as it was.

Rolling sideways on the cushions, you furrowed your brow and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, stretching out until your feet brushed the arm of the couch. It must have been late; it felt like it was late -- something in the air, perhaps, or the way that the sun was already so bright. You would have checked the clock if you knew where it was, and Steve’s house was big, so there was a lot of ground to cover. 

You didn’t really care, anyway. It was a Saturday. You didn’t work. Your parents thought you were at a friend’s house -- which, technically you were; you were just… at the house of the best friend of the girl you’d kissed. Regardless, you were content to take today slow, and not just because you were hungover from last night. You didn’t want to leave Robin, and going home would mean exactly that. 

Searching the floor beneath the couch, you quickly located her in a pile of blankets. Steve had pulled a spare roll-up mattress from the closet which he claimed his parents had bought for camping but never used. You’d tried to convince Robin to take the couch, but she was determined that you have it. Eventually, after a few seconds of you both trying to convince the other, Eddie raised his hands and flapped them through the air, barely swallowing his mouthful of pizza before telling you to quit being so disgustingly cute and just make a decision already so they could start the movie. 

So you’d wound up sleeping on the couch. The couch which, originally, everyone had piled onto to watch 'Halloween' after Steve had given you and Robin some dry clothes to change into and thrown your wet ones into the drier. As he handed you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and pointed you towards the bathroom, all you could think of was how Robin definitely hadn’t been overexaggerating -- he was exactly like a mother hen. After letting you both get changed and complaining to Eddie because “Really? Another horror movie?” he dialed up the local pizza shop and ordered dinner. Once it arrived, everyone settled onto the couch to watch Eddie’s choice of movie, which Steve didn’t actually mind despite how much of a show he’d made about it. 

Steve and Eddie were practically sitting in each other’s laps, their legs tangled up and folded into one another. Robin was next to Eddie, and he kept reaching over to play with her hair until eventually, she wound up letting him braid it so he had something to fiddle with. Which meant she’d wound up sitting sideways and looking at you -- which also meant that you’d wound up having a very hard time paying attention to the movie. 

It didn’t matter -- you all had barely gotten halfway through before the pizza was gone and everyone was dropping like flies. Eddie was the first to fall asleep, his head bumping onto Steve’s shoulder. Robin soon followed, and Steve made the call. 

“We should probably get these nerds to bed,” he whispered, smiling fondly at his sleeping friends, his eyes lingering on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling at Robin. The night felt warm, and Steve’s big house felt full. 

“Robin,” you whispered, grabbing her knee. “Hey, Robs… c’mon, wake up.”

“Mnh,” Robin grunted, then you were staring into her big blue eyes as she blinked away her sleepiness.

“Come on,” you held out your hands. “We have to free Eddie so he can get to bed”

Robin hummed, nodding like she knew exactly what you were talking about, and grabbed your hands without further question. You felt your heart swell as you carefully pulled her up. 

Steve was helping Eddie up similarly, pulling him up by his hands and then into his side. 

“Niiiiiight everybody,” Eddie hummed, swaying into Steve as he raised his hand in a wave. 

“Night Eddie,” Robin smiled, her eyes already closed again. 

“Hey, you guys good down here?” Steve asked you. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve.”

“Sure thing,” he nodded. “We’ll be just upstairs, the door at the end of the hallway if you need anything, alright?”

“‘Course. Thanks again for letting us crash. And the, uh, clothes and stuff.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he waved, smiling faintly at you. “Glad you could come along. It's been nice, having another adult friend. I need more of those. I'm hanging out with so many twelve-year-olds, it's making me crazy.”

“Well, you are welcome,” you smirked, and Steve just shook his head in an endearingly fond manner that had your heart feeling warm. 

Eddie waved at you as Steve helped him towards the stairs. You waved back as you helped Robin onto the floor, making sure she had enough pillows and blankets to be comfortable before settling down onto the couch. She reached over to turn the lamp off, and suddenly the house was dark and quiet and it was just the two of you. You could see her silhouette in the light coming from outside the windows, dim and ghostly blue, and the thought that she was there sleeping beneath you suddenly made breathing seem like something so complicated. Then Robin shifted. 

“I…” her soft, raspy voice felt so small in all the darkness and the space. If you hadn’t known better you would have thought it was coming from a mouse. “I still don't know how this is real. I mean, like… how did any of this happen?”

You took a deep breath -- one that escaped you in a laugh that was just as small as Robin’s voice. “I… don’t know. I really don’t,” you giggled. “God, I never thought I would ever…”

“Ever find someone that actually…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “And, like… have it work.”

“Me neither,” she agreed. 

“Let’s,” you pulled at a thread on Steve’s shirt. “Let’s try to make it work. Even if it's hard. I really want this to work…”

Robin shifted again, rolling over so she could blink up at your form, seeking it out even though she couldn’t see anything more than the outline of the shape of you. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. "Me too."

You laughed softly in the darkness and she joined you, and all that laughter had somehow made the house feel even fuller. After soft “goodnight”’s murmured around smiles, the little bubble the four of you had created inside the Harrington household was one drop away from bursting at the seams. 

Now, in the light of the morning, as the rays slanted through the half-closed blinds across the window, the atmosphere didn’t feel so urgent -- but the warmth continued to linger. A stream of light had fallen across Robin’s face while she slept; cutting across her eyes and slanting down along the bridge of her nose to settle against her cheekbone. Her freckles were a chestnut brown against her skin, and the sun made them look warm. Once again you were overwhelmed with how beautiful she was. Especially like this -- asleep after a night that had been so wonderful you weren't completely convinced that it had even been real. It felt like a dream.

It felt equally unreal as you watched her begin to wake; the shift of her positioning, the little wiggle of her hips as she started to stretch before her eyelashes began to flutter, fanning slowly like a butterfly resting on a flower a moment before she bloomed. You forced yourself to look away as her eyes opened, missing the first morning sight of them for the sake of keeping secret the fact that you’d been staring. 

It only took her a few seconds of consciousness before she was the one staring at you. 

“Mornin’,” she hummed, stretching her arms above her head, bending her elbows to ruffle her hair, and God if you could, you never would have woken up any other way. Everything she did was intoxicating; you didn’t know how you’d survive it. 

“Morning,” you replied. It was a start. Because maybe you couldn’t survive it after all, but you would at least try. You’d at least enjoy every bit of it until it consumed you like a supernova or a giant black hole in outer space. You’d enjoy what you couldn't survive, and it would be something beautifully destructive. 

Robin sat up with a little grunt and began to comb her hands through her hair. 

“Uh, how did you sleep?”

“Good. You?”

“Not bad,” she replied with a nod. She nodded once more, glancing around the room like she was looking for something. You got the sense that she’d already found it but was afraid to say anything about it. 

“Hey,” you murmured, waiting until she turned to look at you before tilting your head. “You alright down there?”

Robin smiled, laughing softly at her lap. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, I just… can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you replied. “Anything.”

“I just… okay,” she shifted, lifting her hands to gesture with them. You loved how she talked with her hands. “I’m just not exactly sure how we go about, you know… everything. Like, I want to say nothing’s changed but obviously that’s not true. Something has changed, but also we’re still just us, right?”

You managed to nod before she was barreling on.

“But like, now ‘us’ feels a little bit more… complicated -- in a good way! I just… I don’t want things to be awkward between us now that… you know…”

“Robin,” you gently interjected. She gave you a doe-eyed look and you struggled back a smile. “I get it. I mean, of course things are gonna feel a little different. Good different, like you said,” you did smile now. “But, uh… we’re still friends, right? That hasn’t changed. There are… other layers to it, sure, but that part is still there. So I guess maybe,” you shrugged. “Maybe we just keep focusing on that part and let whatever happens happen.”

“I like that,” Robin sighed in relief. “Just, uh, one condition."

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes with a smirk. 

“I get to keep kissing you. Please tell me I get to keep kissing you.”

You ducked your head, leaning slightly over the couch as you smiled. In a way, calling Robin your friend was true. In a way, it was also the thing that would protect you from anyone outside of this house -- anyone who would see you and her and want to rip away your color. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I mean, you better keep kissing me,” you added with a smirk. “What are friends for?”

Robin grinned, eyes half-lidded. She leaned to match you, then reached up and let her fingers ghost across your cheek, guiding you further toward her. 

“Right,” she smiled. “Friends…” 

Her thumb traced a line beside your nose as she tilted her chin up, stretched her neck to meet her lips with yours. They were warm and they moved with careful attentiveness. Despite all of her excitement, Robin kissed slowly, like she was taking the time to feel every atom of your skin. When she pulled back, a part of you went with her. She’d taken all that careful time with you that she’d dislodged some essential part of your being with her lips, taken it into her skin to hold it safely within her body. 

“Oh shit,” she suddenly realized. “I totally forgot about morning breath.”

You scoffed, smiling down at the floor. 

“Please. It’s definitely worth a little morning breath.”

Robin opened her mouth in a grin, obviously about to say something before she was interrupted by a knock on the wall. 

“Hey! Can we come down? You guys are, like, decent and everything?”

Robin rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling and snorted loud enough that you were worried she’d hurt her head. 

“Yes, dingus. What, did you think we were down here going at it like two rabbits?”

“I don’t know,” Steve defensively replied, his disheveled form appearing at the top of the stairs. “Just wanted to make sure. You never know…”

“Please. We’re not like you and Eddie.”

“Uhm, I don’t appreciate the implication of your tone, Buckley,” Eddie’s equally disheveled head popped into view. Surprisingly, though, he looked more put together than Steve did.

“Oh yeah?” Robin dryly countered. “Do you perhaps have anything to prove my implication wrong?”

“All I’ll say,” Eddie started as he began to saunter down the stairs. “Is that I’m surprised you ladies didn’t hear our King Steve last night. I mean, he seemed to really be enjoying that thing I do with my--”

“Jesus Christ, would you shut up. They don’t want to hear about that shit.”

“Normally I would agree, but considering you’re, like, five different shades of red right now, I would actually love to hear the end of that sentence.”

“I am not, you asshole,” Steve insisted, grabbing a pillow off the couch to hurl at Robin’s head before padding into the kitchen. 

“No, Buckley's right. I’ve never seen someone turn tomato and firetruck red at the same time. That’s gotta be some kind of record, Stevie.”

“You guys are horrible,” you chuckled, pulling yourself to your feet and stretching. 

“Aren’t we?” Eddie teasingly agreed, clutching a hand to his chest. “Makes you wonder about the people you pick to hang out with, eh new girl?”

“Nope,” you replied with an overly sweet smile. “As long as they keep feeding me and treating me nice, I have no complaints.”

“We’ll always treat you nice,” Robin insisted as she began to get up. You offered her a hand, which Eddie squinted at. “Trust me, I’d never let these shitbirds get a word in.”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie argued. “You have nothing to worry about. I do have standards, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s head appeared around the corner. “Those standards just include bullying me, right?”

“Why of course, King Steve. You’re too easy."

“They’re ridiculous,” Robin said to you, like that single observation was enough to excuse the fact that she was friends with them. You just smiled and wrapped an arm around the small of her back, letting it rest there for a moment that lasted long enough for you both to realize that this was the new normal. The room suddenly felt hotter. 

“Alright asshats, get in here. Everybody has to eat something before they leave because I am not taking responsibility for any of you jerk-faces getting sick.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Robin winced, then grabbed your hand to lead you towards the kitchen even though you already knew where it was.

Something about the atmosphere in Steve's house had shifted in the night. You weren't sure what, but you thought maybe it had something to do with the way that you knew Steve and Eddie had slept together -- and the way that they knew you knew. Maybe it also had something to do with the way you and Robin were attached at the hip. 

You felt Eddie's eyes following you, knew he was studying you in that silent, scrutinizing way that only he could manage to pull the judgment from and get rid of entirely. You should have felt worried, the fact that these two people you'd just recently met, or anyone for that matter, now knew something you'd always tried to keep hidden. You should have been afraid because for so long that part of yourself had been an unwilling blemish. You'd always thought if anyone found out, somehow the world would stop turning and everyone would point and know. 

But instead… instead of being worried or afraid, something just felt right; like out of the blue something about you had clicked into place and now you understood this beautiful notion that being seen was a gift when it was the right kind of people seeing you. Truly seeing you -- and not just that, but seeing themselves in you. 

And something in Eddie's eyes made you think that maybe he was seeing some version of himself in you -- a part that was now confirmed in the daylight after a night of silent speculation. In Steve's eyes, all you saw was pride, maybe a bit of smugness as he served you both breakfast. It felt good, that space inside the house. It felt safe like nothing you'd ever known. You wanted to stay forever -- so long that you forgot the rest of the world existed. You were willing to forget every bit of it just to keep all this love you were feeling. 

The morning went by too quickly. The morning that you knew would have to come to an end because your parents were expecting you back home. The morning that you knew with its ending would also bring the end of this weekend that had been so abstractly, surprisingly wonderful. The one thing you managed to hold onto was that with its end came a distinct new beginning. You were hopeful of what it might be filled with. 

You got the idea that Robin was thinking something similar. She was all smiles while you ate breakfast -- a little quiet, maybe, but she bumped shoulders with you every chance she got. 

“We’ll have to do this sometime when we’re not hungover,” Steve commented, maybe a little too casually, like he didn’t want anyone to think he wanted it too much. 

“What’s the fun in that, Harrington?” Eddie teased -- gently, gentler than usual. Maybe he could tell -- maybe there was a story there that you didn’t know. 

Maybe a big house got lonely. 

“Okay fine -- if it makes you feel better we can start sober and end hungover.”

“Sounds like my kind of party."

“We definitely should,” Robin chimed in. “We can use your pool next time.” She spared you a look and you felt the blood heating up as it rushed through your veins. 

“Sure,” Steve shrugged. “And maybe I can actually cook us some dinner.”

“I could bring dessert from the diner,” you offered, feeling shy to speak up. That feeling was gone before you knew it when the boys smiled excitedly. 

“Anybody doing anything next weekend?” 

You all looked around at each other, confirming four “no”’s. 

“Let’s do it then,” Eddie made the final decision. He raised his mug of orange juice in a toast. “Party at Harrington’s.”

You raised your cup of water. Robin didn’t have a drink so she lifted her bowl of cereal while Steve managed to one-up her weirdness by throwing a spatula into the mix. You clinked them all together. 

“Bring a swimsuit,” Steve said, an added punctuation at the end of the agreement. 

“Or… don’t,” Eddie mischievously added -- the parenthesis. “I think a few members of our party are already well-versed in the art of skinny dipping…” 

Robin launched a soggy cheerio at his forehead while you insisted that you’d both been practically fully clothed. Eddie just grinned and ate the cheerio. Steve declared that the pancakes were done. 

________________________________________________________________

You insisted that this time you were more than capable of biking yourself home. Robin had just opened her mouth to protest when Steve threw a leftover pancaked in her direction -- payback for Eddie, perhaps. Robin dodged, scandalized, and Steve gave her a warning look. 

“The lady’s spoken,” he said. Robin rolled her eyes. They softened, though, when they met yours. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Besides, if this is going to become a regular thing, eventually I’m gonna owe Steve my weight in gas money.”

“I’m glad someone finally said it,” he muttered. 

Eddie threw back the last of his OJ and said, “I don’t mind giving anyone a ride.”

“You tryin’ to show me up, Munson?”

“No, I just don’t mind doing favors for friends.”

“Ha ha,” Steve humorlessly laughed, but still, they both turned to you. 

“I’m fine -- really,” you said, eyes widening a bit under their scrutiny. “But thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, kid,” Steve nodded, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how cute he was; like someone’s mother. If what Robin said was to be believed, about their several kid friends, then he was more like a few someone’s mothers. 

You helped him wash up the dishes -- a few cups, a bowl, a plate -- then headed into the hall to grab your shoes. Steve had already given your clothes back, and you’d returned his, knowing that your parents would have had a coronary if you came back from a supposed girls’ night wearing some boy’s t-shirt and boxers. It would have been funny, though; they'd be so wrong about so many things -- Steve and who he was as a person, for starters, and the nature of your relationship… and Robin. It would have been funny if the risk of them learning the truth didn’t weigh so heavily in your stomach or leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

Robin followed you into the hallway, was there when you turned around, along with a smile so soft that it make you forget about everything unpleasant in life for just a moment. Something about her was melodic, like a tune you couldn’t get out of your head; one you were gradually learning the lyrics to so you could sing along while you went about your day, a secret ritual that no one else would ever know about. 

“Hey,” she said, soft, like the chord struck at the very beginning of the song, setting all the other notes into motion. “Where’s your head gone?”

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your shirt, unable to help feeling embarrassed that she’d noticed. “Just thinking.”

She nodded, glancing out into the hallway before finding your eyes again. 

“Let me walk you home?”

It was offered with a sort of awkward optimism; a hope that she was still reading things right. 

“Yeah,” you replied, a smile, a swell across the sheet music that sent the notes soaring towards the promise of a chorus; a chance. You emerged from the hallway standing side-by-side, together in a way that seemed new and a bit groundbreaking -- enough to notice, at least. It felt different -- felt like the turning of a well-worn page, another step towards that chorus. You couldn’t wait to hear what it sounded like. 

Robin told Steve she’d see him on Monday. 

“Bright and early,” he replied with a trailing, muttered, “As usual.”

You thanked him for letting you crash on his couch. He made a joke about not needing to run off into the woods the next time you wanted to stay the night. Robin remembered that she’d left her work uniform in his car and made him promise to bring it, “or Keith’ll have our asses.” Stever rolled his eyes and told her to “get lost already, nerd.” Eddie, who had been silently acting disinterested in the whole affair, approached Robin with a little, very mischievous hop, hands tucked behind his back, and stiffly leaned over to give her a quick peck on the cheek. She made a show of looking disgusted and wiping it off with her wrist. 

“Ew.” 

“Stay out of trouble,” he lowly sang, raising his eyebrows to add to the showmanship you’d come to love. Then his endearingly open affection was turned to you, but all he did was blow you a kiss and give a little wave. 

“Until next time, new girl.” The nickname had become fond, and you were kind of glad it had stuck. 

“Bye Eddie,” you smirked, waving at the boys as you headed for the front door, missing their shared glances so you could focus on Robin instead.

By the time Eddie muttered, with much affectionate sarcasm, “Well Christ, isn’t she just the worst,” you were already too far out the door to hear Steve’s soft laughter.  

 _______________________________________________________________

The afternoon was young, and though you were going home, it felt full of possibilities, like maybe it would just keep on stretching and never stop; one endless, infinite space. You steered your bike with one hand pressed into the middle of the handrails, and it was a balancing act to keep it steady. Your other hand hung open between you and Robin with an air of something like anticipation. 

You were walking in comfortable silence, which, to be honest, you hadn’t been quite sure Robin was capable of. Maybe something had changed, though; something had dissolved -- her nervousness, maybe -- now that you’d kissed. Not only that but you’d talked about it, which somehow felt just as meaningful. Just as important. Regardless, she seemed comfortable with the quiet and the slow, casual pace of your walking. You don’t think you’d ever walked so slow before in your life. Something about the endless afternoon, something about the longing for it was slowing you down. It was like you were walking through a dream; your limbs felt all floaty and irrelevant. You felt like your walking wasn’t really taking you anywhere, just holding you in place. 

Robin’s hand brushed yours as you turned onto your street. Just a few more houses now. You thought of Robin walking home by herself and suddenly wished that you didn’t have to stop -- wished you could just keep on going, staying contently in the place where you were going nowhere. Your pinkies slid together -- a seamless hook, a single point of contact, and a promise that held you together like a stitch. 

“Maybe I can swing by Family Video on Monday,” you said, a question just in case she didn’t want you to. 

“Oh -- yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay,” you smiled, then glanced down at your feet. “I can, uh, bring milkshakes. That way Steve will have something to focus on other than why I’m suddenly hanging around more than usual.” You’d stopped by Family Video before, sure, but this felt different and you were somehow sure that Steve would know that. 

“I think he’s already onto us,” Robin admitted. “Actually, scratch that, he definitely is. He, uh,” she blushed at the sidewalk, gently swinging her arm -- swinging yours with it. “He actually swore from day one that you liked me. I was scared out of my mind that it was really nothing and you were just being polite and all, but Steve--” She shook her head fondly. “That tape that you bought, ‘Tango in the Night?’ He said that you got it because I’d pointed it out to you. I felt like I was losing my mind trying to decide if I thought he was right -- he’s not always the best at reading girls, as you can probably tell by now,” she laughed. 

You were trying to take all of that in, the fact that, as you stood outside the store with your back pressed against the rough stone trying to catch your breath, Robin had been trying to figure out if you liked her or not. 

“I did,” you said, voice a sudden spark of energy. Robin looked at you. “The tape… I did buy it because of you. I,” you felt your skin heat up. “I listened to it as soon as I got home.”

You left out the part where you’d thought about her, wondered if you’d ever see her again -- if she could ever feel the same way about you that you did her. 

“This is bonkers crazy,” Robin said, looking over at you with clear, smiling eyes. You knew you were smiling back. 

“Oh, for sure insane,” you agreed. She gave your arm another little swing. 

“This is you,” she suddenly said, stopping. You glanced up and sure enough there stood your house -- baby blue siding, white faded porch, dry grass, and a glimpse of curtains in the windows. 

You and Robin pulled away at the same time, with the same urgency -- and the same reluctance, despite it all. 

“I kind of regret not kissing you a couple of streets back.”

You smiled. “Well, look at it this way -- on Monday we can kiss all you want.”

“True, but I’m definitely locking us in the break room so Steve can't ruin it.”

The laughter between you felt good; warm. Robin shifted, holding one forearm and leaning between her two feet. 

“I’ll be seeing you, then…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “See ya.”

Robin nodded twice, her hair fanning across her cheek, sweeping away quick enough to reveal a secret, almost mischievous smile. She took a few steps backward in retreat, poking her tongue into her cheek as she looked at you like she knew a secret the whole world would never get their hands on. 

She’d just turned around when you called, “Hey Rob.” She stopped, spinning lazily back around to look at you, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket. “Call me so I know you got home?”

Her lips curled back into a grin, revealing rows of white teeth. You thought you saw a twinkle in her eyes. 

“Sure thing, earthling,” she smoothly replied, giving you a wink before turning on her heels and heading down the sidewalk.

Despite all her smoothness -- which, you had to admit, drove you crazy -- she looked back just before turning off your street. You’d reached your porch by now, and had also glanced behind you one last time. Robin raised a hand, wiggling her fingers in a little wave as she ducked her head -- and you loved that side of her, too; the dorky, adorable side. The side that tripped over her own feet because she was too busy watching you. You could see her glance down, almost confused -- but by the time she glanced back up, her face was outlined in laughter. 

You could almost hear it. 

 _______________________________________________________________

Robin waited until Monday. She’d planned on waiting until Steve picked her up, but something had come up with Dustin’s mom and Steve was closer than Eddie, so Robin had agreed that she’d be fine to bike for once while he drove Dustin -- even though she was about ready to explode with eagerness. In a way, the bike ride sort of helped; by the time she walked into Family Video she was fairly out of breath -- enough that Steve had a few seconds to prepare himself. And Steve knew her well enough to know that he’d better use those few seconds wisely because he wasn’t likely to know peaceful silence until he dropped her at home that evening. Sure enough, Robin took a deep, gasping breath and then, 

“Holy shit, Steve.”

“Good morning to you too,” he muttered, but she gave him one of her looks, so he caved. “Good ‘holy shit’ or bad ‘holy shit?’” he asked. 

“Good -- good, so good, oh my God.”

“Alright, take a breath,” he mumbled, not yet willing to let her good mood rub off on him. It would, eventually, but he needed to play up the annoyance for at least another few minutes. Besides, it was barely half past eight; not enough coffee in the world could help him catch up with Robin energy-wise. 

As he’d suggested, the girl took another breath. Her hair was frizzy, sticking up in wild angles from the wind, and her cheeks were flushed from the ride over. Once she was able to breathe normally, she let out a half-repressed squeal. 

“Jesus -- what?” he demanded, but he was pretty sure he already knew. 

“Steve,” she reached forward and grabbed his vest -- which reminded her -- “Hey, you do have my--”

“Yeah yeah, I have your damn vest,” he said, then raised an impatient eyebrow, but Robin just stared down at her hands. 

“Robin!” he practically yelled, finally jumpstarting her memory of whatever she was so excited to tell him. 

“Oh! Yeah,” she furrowed her brow almost like she was in pain, then released and smoothed over his vest as she began to talk. 

“We,” her voice dropped to a whisper. “We kissed, Steve.”

He resisted the urge to fist-bump the air. He’d suspected as much, but he couldn’t tell for sure… 

“She kissed me. Well, I mean, it was sort of a mutual thing -- can you even believe it? -- and once it started she didn’t stop, or, like, freakout or anything, and -- God, it was, like, the most amazing thing I think I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.”

Her hands were gesturing, fingers curling and uncurling, brow knit together just enough that Steve knew she was thinking back to it 

“A-And now we’re, like, going steady, I guess? I don’t know -- we both agreed that we want to try, and… ugh, Steve, I’m so happy. I never knew a person could be this happy.”

He was grinning by now, no doubt; a big, face-splitting grin that was at risk of cracking his head clean in two. 

“I’m happy for you, Robs,” he said. He meant it more than anything in the world. 

She squealed, shifting on her feet and covering her face with her hands. Steve scoffed fondly, laying a hand on the top of her head for a moment before grabbing a stack of VHS tapes off the counter. 

“But hey, I’m totally taking credit for this, by the way,” he called. “I’m the reason you two even got together in the first place -- I expect to be the best man at your wedding.”

“Would you stop planning our wedding, Steven,” she demanded, dragging her hands down her face in giddy annoyance. 

“Just sayin’,” he shot back, still grinning. “I’m a pretty good matchmaker when it comes to literally everybody but myself.”

“Hey, don’t cry about it, Stevie. You found your man,” she smirked, leaning over the counter and absentmindedly rearranging the cassettes. She wondered if she should make you a mixtape. That was a thing couples did, right? The most insufferable, mushy, embarrassing couples… “She’s gonna come by later, by the way.”

“Oh, of course she is. What, now that you’ve got a girlfriend, I’m not good enough for you?”

Robin bit her lip at the title, feeling a sudden prickle of tears at the back of her eyes. Hearing Steve say something like that… she’d hoped, but she’d never truly thought that--

“She’s bringing you a milkshake.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked her. See, I have excellent taste in women.”

“You’re right,” Robin began, voice high and airy with teasing. “If I’d have met you years ago I’d probably be married by now.”

“Well, you know what they say,” he lazily replied. “Everything happens for a reason, and all that bullshit.”

“You know what though, Steve… I think they’re right. Even if it is bullshit, I really do think that sometimes things happen for a reason.”

“Yeah?” he blinked over at her for a moment, hand propped up on his hip. Then he snapped out of it. “I’m just glad your girlfriend likes me because I’m way too invested in this friendship for some girl to come between us.”

“Oh yeah?” she rasped, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a wiggle of his head. Then he broke out in a reluctant smirk. “I do like that she brings me milkshakes, though…”

“Steve.”

“What? It’s nice!”

 _______________________________________________________________

You saw Robin a lot more after the party. In fact, between work, Family Video, and hanging out with your new friends, you were hardly home. Your parents suspected that a boy was the reason. 

“Come on, Doc -- you got a special someone we don’t know about?” your dad had teased on one of the now rare nights that you ate dinner with your family. You were all set out in the living room, the TV playing an obnoxious commercial about Coke-a-Cola and plates of food on your laps. 

“I mean… just new friends, you know,” you’d replied, not exactly denying it. 

“Uh-huh,” your dad smirked. 

“So when do we get to meet him?” your mom asked, giving you an excited, expectant look. 

You felt a pang in your chest, filled with both the desire to bring Robin home and say “here she is,” and the fear that they’d ever find out. You swallowed a mouthful of broccoli, wincing as it went down. 

“I told you, mom -- it’s just friends. There’s no boy, alright.”

“Aw,” your mom hummed. “I thought for sure you’d finally found someone, with the way you’ve been all happy lately.”

“When we get to see you, that is,” your dad added. It was like that pang you’d felt had left a little hole somewhere inside your chest and now it was steadily getting bigger. 

But it didn’t matter what your parents thought. When you were with them, you tried to say all the right things, and when you were with Robin you felt alive. When you were with Robin all the words that were exchanged between you felt seamless, like something deep within yourselves had come to the surface to place them on your tongue. Even when you were arguing with Robin about a new movie at Family Video. Even when she talked so much and so fast that you had to take her face between your hands and tell her to breathe. Even when she laughed so hard she cried when you cracked a joke or messed around with Steve, or did something just to see her smile. Especially then. 

So yes, even as your parents wondered if you’d met a boy, wondered if you were lying to them -- which, you were -- your time spent with Robin made everything about life so much clearer. And you spent as much time with her as you could; late nights at the diner filled with strawberry milkshakes and pieces of leftover cake shared between three spoons and dancing. Early evenings at Family Video, just after they’d closed, filled with jokes and mischief and laughter. Once you even went back to Lover’s Lake, Robin bringing her own bike this time, and swam just off the pier. That night had been filled with the light of the moon and kisses that tasted like lake water and conversations murmured under the sound of crickets. And mosquito bites, but as you stretched out on the pier to look at the stars, neither of you cared. And when Robin inched her hand over to grab your pinky, you rolled to your side, cupped her face in your palm and kissed her.

The four of you -- Steve, Eddie, Robin, and you -- spent a few more nights at Steve’s house. You took your bathing suits the second time, and you brought everyone takeout and milkshakes from the diner. Eddie, who had yet to be on the receiving end of your tendency to bring your friends food, hugged you so tightly you could hardly breathe -- and then kept an arm around your shoulder until Robin whined that he was hogging her girlfriend. 

It was the first time Robin had ever called you that. You’d felt so much joy that you’d grabbed her by the face and, before you’d even gotten away from Eddie, kissed her on the lips. Eddie let go of you like you’d caught fire, then began to cheer loudly as you swayed Robin back and forth, smiling into her ocean-blue eyes. You brushed the hair from her face and she bumped her nose against yours, and Steve couldn’t even pretend to gag, he was too busy watching you both with so much happiness in his eyes. The room felt like it could have burst. 

As the summer wore steadily on, your days were filled with a companionship you had never known before. It wasn’t just Robin, but her friends, too -- and all three of them claimed that one day soon you’d meet the kids. For the first time in your life, you felt like you were understood by the people around you. And when Steve confided in you about future anxieties while you were doing the dishes, or when Eddie helped you fix your bike after the chain had broke, or when you watched the two boys floating together in the pool, wrapped up in each other’s arms, while you and Robin sat with your feet in the water, you knew that you’d found your people. 

And when Robin leaned into your shoulder and looked into your eyes, the breeze brushing strands of hair across her cheek, you knew you’d found your place. 

Because maybe you’d never seen the ocean before -- not in person, at least -- but you knew for a fact that whatever this was, it had to be better.

________________________________________________________________

Taglist:  @alonezz, @gaysludge, @gray-cheese, @rare-breed-of-human, @vea-vea-vea, @lady-silkwing, @im-a-milf, @yourmanifestingbigsister, @bubbles0oo

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x f!reader #robin x reader #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fanart #st #st fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and robin #steve and eddie #minor steddie #steve and reader #eddie and reader #eddie and robin #ao3 link #ao3 fic #ao3 fanfic #fanfictions

[sleepyangelkami]

smut's fun. have you ever read soul crushing, heart aching, head throbbing comfort that makes your eyes burn out of your head to the point where you just have to crawl into a ball because your inner child feels so safe? haha... yeah smuts fun.

#ellie williams x reader #carl grimes x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes x reader #jj maybank x reader #vi arcane x reader #rafe cameron x reader #cole walter x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #frank castle x reader #conrad fisher x reader #alec lightwood x reader #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #jinx arcane x reader #smut #comfort

[itshelia]

Is it just me or everyone imagine their fav characters that they are obsessing over in real life???

Like I'll be at work and then I imagine that bitch sitting next to me, talking to me and admiring me while I FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVENT KISSED A MALE SPECIES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE

I don't know if that's sign of a fucking mental problem or what but I swear if I'm even Slightly upset or tired of my life i WILL open tumblr and start imagining them or talking to them (aka my wall. It be sitting there like the fuck gurl im not your man)

#steve harrington x reader #spencer reid x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #dick grayson x reader #eddie munson x reader #tate langdon x reader #tommy shelby x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #daryl dixon x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #bellamy blake x reader #astarion x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester x reader #din djarin x reader #frank castle x reader #ethan landry x reader #jake sully x reader #james potter x reader #jj maybank x reader #joel miller x reader #john murphy x reader #javier peña x reader #kaz brekker x reader #marc spector x reader #matt murdock x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #mike schmidt x reader

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble

[l0caltiredgirl]

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

#the secondhand embarrassment is real #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #steve harrington x reader #matt murdock x reader #steven grant x reader #jj maybank x reader #derek morgan x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader #poe dameron x reader #warren rojas x reader #marc spector x reader #pope heyward x reader #rafe cameron x reader #peter parker x reader #jake sully x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #frankie morales x reader #javier pena x reader #frank castle x reader #cassian andor x reader #simon riley x reader #ellie williams x reader #l0caltiredgirl