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unfinishedslurs · 2 years ago

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aware of his bisexuality steve (steddie, buckingham)

“Is that a hickey?” Comes out of Steve’s mouth without permission. But there it is, bright purple and red against the slope of her neck. She’s been walking kind of funny this morning, too. He’d assumed her period came early, but… “Rob, did you—“

Eddie fumbles the coffee mug he was pulling down. Chrissy freezes, face turning white with fear. Robin whips around, face bright red, and slaps a hand over her neck.

“Bathroom!” She yelps. “Bathroom now!”

“Wait,” Eddie says, setting the mug down with trembling hands. “It was me. Sorry, man.”

Steve stares at him, unimpressed. Why the fuck would he lie about—

He looks at Chrissy again, who takes a nervous step back, and it clicks.

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “You. You gave Robin a hickey. Had totally awesome sex that she didn’t even tell me about.” He directs that last bit at Robin pointedly. He told her almost immediately when he lost his guy-ginity. Traitor. “Yep. Sure. Got it.”

Eddie blinks, confused. Robin buries her face in her hands.

“Oh my god, calm down,” she groans. “That’s not going to work. Steve’s cool.”

“Cool?” Chrissy asks, still looking ready to bolt.

“Super cool,” he assures her. “The coolest. So incredibly cool, even if my best friend didn’t even tell me when she lost her virginity.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. “But I am going to need details, Buckley. We can go over what worked, and what needs more oomph.”

“Oh my god, can we talk about this anywhere else,” Robin groans, at the same time Eddie asks, “What, so you can get off on it later?”

“What,” Steve says.

“You think two girls are hot, is that it?” He’s got a sneer on his face now, but Steve’s more observant than Dustin gives him credit for. Even if he wasn’t, it’d be hard to miss how hard his hands are shaking, the nervous tilt to his mouth.

“Ew.” Steve’s face screws up. “Dude, no. It’s Robin.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Robin breaks in, from where she’s started comforting Chrissy. “You thought I was hot for at least a summer.”

His mouth drops open in betrayal. “We agreed to never talk about that again!”

“Can’t help being sexy,” she coons. Chrissy giggles wetly. “You wanna get married, Harrington? Have my babies? Stay home and raise six little nuggets while I bring home the bread?”

“I hate you,” he informs her. “Hate you so much. We’ll have a nice, heterosexual wedding and share a sad, heterosexual kiss, and you’ll carry me over the threshold of our nice, heterosexual house, and we’ll have boring, heterosexual sex that gives us nice, heterosexual babies, because we are so heterosexual and happy in our suburburban house in our nice little heterosexual town.”

He’s honestly kind of proud of himself for saying heterosexual so many times. Usually he fumbles words with that many syllables, especially after that many times in a row.

Chrissy is outright laughing, now, endearing little snorts making their way between giggles. Eddie is looking between them like they’re a puzzle he can’t piece together. Robin grins.

“I’ll cuck you with the secretary.”

“Not if I cuck you first. You’ll be away all day in that office of yours, and I need someone big and strong to carry all the new furniture I ordered.”

“I knew it! I knew Timmy wasn’t mine!”

“Oh, but I couldn’t help myself,” he swoons. “Mark was just so sweet, with his bulging biceps and hand flexes, all hot and sweaty from helping poor little me while you were away! You know I’m weak to curly hair and brown eyes, Rob, how’s a man supposed to resist?”

“Fag,” she says, not without affection.

“Dyke,” he shoots back.

“Cocksucker.”

“Carpet—“

“Okay,” Eddie breaks in, clapping his hands. He and Robin both startle, and so does Chrissy from where she’s been watching them like a particularly interesting tennis match. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Robin lost her virginity and didn’t even tell me,” Steve says immediately, like he’s tattling to the principal.

“Steve doesn’t seem to understand the concept of waiting,” Robin retorts.

“I told you when I had gay sex,” he whines, and Eddie chokes. “I hate you. See if I ever give you tips again.”

“Oh, is that what you meant?” Chrissy asks. “Please don’t stop. They were good tips.”

Robin flushes all the way down to her toes.

“You like boys?” Eddie wheezes.

“Oh,” Steve blinks. “Yeah? I thought you knew.”

“You thought I—how would I know?”

The fuck is that supposed to mean? Steve’s been flirting with him for months!

“Robin always says we can sense each other! You sensed her.”

“You told him?” Eddie’s mouth drops open, and Robin looks sheepish.

“She didn’t have to,” Steve snarks. “You’re flagging in Hawkins, man. Was I supposed to miss it?”

“You know what flagging is?”

“Again, in case you missed it, I fuck men.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “Fuck! Christ, I can’t believe this. You’re, like, the epitome of heterosexual. I spent half of high school having to hear about how much pussy you were getting. Why are you not straight?”

“Wow, Eddie,” he deadpans. “Are you saying just because I like men and woman, I’m not queer enough? That’s kind of homophobic of you, man.”

“Yeah, Eddie, wow,” Robin says. “I thought you were better than this.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says. “I feel like I need to lie down. My entire worldview just shattered.”

“I have a couch?” Chrissy offers shyly. “Or a bedroom, if you need a minute away.” Fuck, Steve kind of adores her. Especially since she’s apparently vicious n bed, if the five other hickies he counts just from Robin bending down a little to whisper in her ear are any indication. Good for her.

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Robin says, with a glint in her eye that means he’s either going to love or hate what comes next. “If it helps, Steve’s never fucked a man in his life.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, looking between the two of them. “So…you’re just making fun of me?”

He looks a little angry now, and Steve can’t make heads or tails of this conversation because, “What the hell, Rob, yes I have—“

“Oh, so suddenly you’re the one doing the fucking?”

“Stop making fun of me for taking it!”

Eddie lets out an honest to god moan that he immediately slaps his hand over his mouth to cover up. “Right,” he says fervently. “Okay. I need to lie down, like, for real.”

They watch him stride down the hall, so fast he’s almost running, and slam the door closed behind him.

“I could totally top,” he mutters to Robin as something that sounds vaguely like muffled screaming echoes down the hall. “I top girls all the time. It’s not my fault prostates are a gift from God.”

“Uh, you top because all the girls you fuck are from small town Indiana. If one of them brought out the strap you’d drop to your knees so fast—“

“That’s—I like topping!”

“Your favorite position is cowgirl. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“I will show Chrissy your baby pictures,” he hisses. Robin makes a face at him. Chrissy nods excitedly from where she’s still tucked under Robin’s arm.

“Oh what’s that?” Robin practically shouts. “You like being pressed against walls and ravished? You want someone to tie you up and have their filthy way with you? Is that what you said, Steve?”

Another noise from the bedroom. He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” she says sweetly. “You’re both hopeless.”

“I told you he’s shy!”

“Eddie?” Chrissy asks. “Shy?”

“Yeah, okay, I was confused too, but I figured it was the romance! He told me he hasn’t actually been in a relationship before, I assumed he was nervous to take that step.”

“Yeah, but dingus,” Robin says sweetly. “You’re missing a puzzle piece here. He thought you were straight. He thought he was flirting with his straight best friend he didn’t have a chance in hell with, and then he finds out that said best friend likes taking it up the ass and men with brown eyes.”

“Oh,” Steve says, realization dawning. “Oh, fuck. What if he doesn’t like me like that?”

Robin smacks the back of his head. “Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Chrissy says. “Like, really don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not coming over tonight,” Robin says. “I’m gonna stay with Chrissy again. Er…if that’s okay?”

“That sounds amazing.” Chrissy beams, and Robin turns red again.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay with Chrissy again tonight. You are going to invite Eddie to stay the night when he gets done with his little crisis, and then we’re getting lunch at the diner tomorrow and you can tell me about it before our shift.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, I can do this. I’ve invited guys over before, how hard can it be? It’s just Eddie. But that was hotel rooms, not my house and my bedroom with my shitty wallpaper. And it’s Eddie. Fuck, what if I’m shit at it? Robin, what if I’m actually bad at sex and everyone who’s ever said I was good was lying because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Oh my god, I’m totally bad at sex.”

“Woah, dingus, slow down. I think we took the mind meld too far, you’re turning into me.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re bad at sex,” Chrissy says. Steve and Robin look at her, and she flushes. “Because of the tips! Not because—I’ve never slept with you, but some of my friends did, and I got three orgasms out of last night, so…”

“Oh thank God,” he breathes. “I was worried for a minute.” Then he raises an eyebrow at Robin, and holds out his hand for a high five. She slaps it, begrudgingly proud of herself, and then takes the hand to pull him into a headlock that’s honestly more of a hug than anything.

“You’re fine,” she whispers in his ear. “You’re great at sex, as you keep telling me. What’s more, you’re funny, charming, handsome, brave, caring—“

“Aww, Robin, are you getting sappy on me?”

“Plus Eddie literally moaned in front of you when he found out you bottomed. I really don’t think there’s a way to fuck that up.”

Steve grins. “He did do that. I’m going to make so much fun of him later.”

“So,” Eddie says with a smirk, “men with brown eyes?”

“Hey man, don’t look at me. Blame Jonathan.”

Now Eddie looks stunned, mouth dropping open. “Byers?” He says, sounding betrayed. “You have a crush on Byers of all people?”

Steve feels offended on Jonathan’s behalf. “What’s that supposed to mean? Jonathan’s a good guy!”

“I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess? He’s sweet, passionate, good with kids, nice eyes. Can pack a punch. I mean, what’s not to like?”

“Uh, didn’t he steal your girlfriend?”

He waves that off. “That was, like, years ago, man. We’re cool now.”

“Right, okay,” Eddie mutters. “Well have fun with Byers, I guess.”

It clicks. “Oh,” he says. “Oooh. You’re jealous.”

Eddie splutters. “Jealous? I’m not—I don’t—you’re jealous!”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Eddie says resolutely, not looking at him.

“Right,” Steve agrees. “Well, if I am jealous, maybe I should know that I got over Jonathan years ago, and have since moved on to brighter, hopefully more attainable pastures than my ex’s ex.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“A different man with brown eyes?” He suggests. “Who is also good with kids, and passionate, and…” he trails off, suddenly realizing all those times Robin made fun of him might not be based on nothing. “Oh my god, I have a type. Shit, I have to tell Robin she was right.”

“I figured that was a common occurrence.”

“Shut up. Where was I going with this? I had a point.”

“You were telling me how awesome I am?”

“Oh, suddenly it’s you we’re talking about?”

“I mean,” suddenly Eddie looks shy, and Steve can’t help but think even with the change in context he might have been right when he told Robin Eddie was nervous about being in a real, romantic relationship, “isn’t it?”

He feels himself smile, slow and wide and probably more revealing than he means it to be. “Yeah,” he says, in a tone he knows Robin would call soppy, “it is.”

#technically all my bi steve fics have him aware he'd bi but for the purpose of naming we'll call it that #aware of his bisexuality steve au #i am ALWAYS jonathan was steve's awakening truthing #steddie #buckingham #i think that's their ship name?#eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #accidental outing #i'm not really a bottom steve truther but i thought it would be funny for this #stranger things fanfic

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kitchen-spoon · 6 months ago

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Steddie Slice of life

A little sneaky Peaky of a new 5k Steddie slice of life fic I'll be posting on AO3 soon :)

Eddie was back a minute later, Tuna back in his arms as he crawled into bed. She settled in the divot between their legs, her head resting on Eddie’s thigh. He petted at her back looking up at Steve. “Can I bring tuna to the game?” He asked with a megawatt smile, there was mischief and determination behind his eyes that let Steve know he would be losing this battle.

“People will think we’re crazy,” Steve tried anyway despite knowing better.

“People already think I’m a woman until I turn around. What's a little more misdirection with a cat and a baby stroller?” Eddie grinned, waggling his brows at Steve, that big smile still on his face.

“You want to bring her in a baby stroller?” Steve asked in disbelief, he honestly shouldn’t be surprised though. Eddie was as chaotic as they come.

“It's the most safe and convenient way.” Eddie nodded seriously. “Plus little Miss deserves the princess treatment.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that but relented. “You spoil her too much but, fine. You have to find a baby stroller that isn’t hundreds of dollars and cat proof it though.” He pointed at Eddie sternly.

“You know, I’m the king of the thrift baby, I’ll make it happen.” Eddie assured with a cocky grin. Despite his eye rolls, Steve couldn’t deny it, considering he was laying on a mattress sitting in a brass bed frame Eddie found for them at the thrift store with two matching oak side tables to go with it.

“You have until next weekend, if it isn’t done she stays home.” Steve warned.

Eddie just smiled even wider, leaning in to give Steve a wet kiss. “Of course baby.” He began peppering kisses all over Steve’s face. “I love youuuu.” He sang.

“I love you too.” Steve finally cracked and dropped his grumpy facade. If it made Eddie happy he didn’t care. “Now go to bed.” He chuckled and pushed Eddie away when the kisses began to tickle

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runraerun · 10 days ago

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AO3 • Harringrove & HellCheer • Rating: T • Beta: @dame-zoom-a-lot • Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Homophobic language, Implied Child Abuse, Neil Hargrove.• Tags: The Fruity Four but it’s Steve, Billy, Chrissy and Eddie. Fuck gender norms. Chrissy and Billy blonde bombshell solidarity, Billy Hargrove Centric, Platonic Steddie, Platonic CaliCheer, but Eddie is so bisexual in this it’s crazy. Lots of fluff but lots of angst. Feminization. SFW.

*Written for @harringrovekinktober 2024!🎃 I spun: Feminization at Steve’s house!✨ (even though this turned into Flufftober. I’m so sorry.)

Summary:

“Do my eyes?” Billy mutters around his cigarette, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“With make-up.” Chrissy clarifies easily.

And with that, Billy nearly sucks back the cigarette dangling between his lips. He coughs, and coughs, and then coughs some more. Has to fucking lean forward to catch his breath, feeling a lot like he did when he first tried that stolen cigarette from his dad at the tender age of twelve. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the stray tears that had eked their way out during his fit. “No. Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

Eddie perks up, “Ooh. The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks.”

“What the fuck’d you just call me?” Billy croaks, his voice still a little ragged from his coughing.

Or, Chrissy convinces Billy to let her put makeup on him. 💋

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty eyes, Billy?” Chrissy asks from across the fire pit. She’s tucked up under Eddie’s arm, their fingers threaded together over her shoulder.

Billy snorts, “not recently, no.”

He and Steve aren’t nearly as tangled up as the pair across from them are, even though technically they’ve been together longer than Chrissy and Eddie have—which automatically makes them the superior couple, obviously. But… he and Steve don’t really do the whole PDA thing, even when they’re in ‘safe’ company. A lifetime of having to hide will do that. It’s a tough habit to break.

But he and Steve are sitting side by side, their knees pressed against the other’s, and Billy’s got an arm slung behind Steve, resting along the back of the wicker loveseat they’re squashed onto. Steve’s even got a hand high up on Billy’s thigh, fingers clamping down every so often. Under the security of their shared blanket, of course. And that’s enough for Billy. More than he ever thought he’d get to have, if he’s being honest.

Eddie shoots Steve with a look of disbelief, like he’d caught him red handed at something truly reprehensible. “For shame, Stevie. For shame! You’re a bad boyfriend!”

“What? I—well, listen, I think Billy’s eyes great! I just—” Steve flounders before he turns to look at Billy, red in the cheeks. “I’m sure I’ve said something about your eyes before. Haven’t I?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember.” Billy shrugs, a little embarrassed. In truth, Billy remembers every compliment that Steve’s ever paid him. His chest, his ass, his arms—but never his eyes. Not that it’s a sore point for him or anything, it was just one of the things Steve hasn’t remarked on.

“Shit, does that make me a bad boyfriend?” Steve lets his head fall back against the meat of Billy’s arm and groans. “I’m sorry. Your eyes are great. Really! They work great too. Remember that time you spotted a quarter across the parking lot? Incredible.”

Billy feels his ears heat up. With a roll of his eyes, he growls at Steve, “don’t hurt yourself, Harrington.”

“I’m being serious!” Steve laughs, voice going high with guilt, and it gets everyone else chuckling too.

“Well, I think they’re a really beautiful shade of blue. And your lashes are so dark. Do you tint them?” Chrissy asks, eye’s focused solely on him.

Billy ducks his head, sort of hating this sort of scrutiny. He’s fine with being the center of attention if he’s playing basketball or balancing on top of a keg, but sitting here like this? It’s… weird. Too intimate. Billy clears his throat, “look, I’m flattered, Chrissy, really, but your boy is literally right fucking next to you.”

“It’s okay, she’s right; you do have really pretty eyes.” Munson winks as he takes another drag from his joint.

“Jesus…” Billy shakes his head and follows suit, though he’s just smoking a cigarette. Such is the fate of being the designated-sober-guy for the night.

“So you don’t tint your lashes?” Chrissy asks again.

“I don’t even fucking know what that means.” He mutters around his cigarette.

But Chrissy seems immune to the very clear ‘fuck off’ signals he’s putting out. She continues, “Well, do you dye your hair?”

“No.” He answers quickly, a reflex.

“Billy.” Steve says in a drawn out type of way and a tilt of his head. He levels Billy with a look. The little shit…

“I don’t!” Billy huffs, defensive as he readjusts himself in his seat.

But Munson smells blood in the water, clearly. “Ooh. Tell us what you know, Stevie boy.”

Only then does Steve have the decency to look apologetic, wincing, “I really shouldn’t.”

“Yeah because there’s nothing to tell.” Billy widens his eyes with each passing word in an attempt at conveying his unspoken threat. Steve’s getting dangerously close to being on the receiving end of a purple-nurple.

Eddie begins to chant, “Tell us! Tell us! Tell u—” before Chrissy reached a hand over and pinches his lips shut.

“Shush.” She tuts.

“Go on, ba–Billy. Who cares?” Steve raises his shoulders, trying to appear innocent. He pulls his knee back only to knock it back against Billy’s, urging him on.

Billy growls out a frustrated sigh. But at this point it was inevitable. And it was true–who the fuck cares? It’s just the four of them. And they have a symbiotic, assured mutual destruction sort of relationship going on between them. Steve trusted them enough to tell them about Billy, so Billy supposes he can tell them about something as stupid as his hair care secrets. “Fine! Jesus... I put a little bit of lemon juice in my hair when it’s sunny. It bleaches it a bit over time. Happy, you pack of vultures?”

“Ecstatic.” Eddie mumbles out from behind Chrissy’s hold on his lips.

“Sorry.” Steve mutters, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He’s smiling and on the verge of another fit of giggles for Christ's sake.

“Well it looks great. It makes your eyes pop.” Chrissy leans forward, hands on her knees, as if to get a better look at him in the firelight. Billy feels like a damn bug under a magnifying glass.

“And popping eyes are… good?” Billy cocks a brow. Doesn’t sound good. Sounds weird—like something you’d say about Munson, not him.

“Totally!” She says in that high, sweet voice of hers. Then she gasps, like she’s just remembered something important, “you should let me do your eyes!”

His brows pinch as he takes another pull from his cigarette. “Do my eyes?” Billy exhales a thick cloud of white smoke, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Do them up, like with make-up.” She clarifies easily.

Eddie perks up, “Ooh. The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks.”

“What the hell’d you just call me?” Billy croaks, his voice still a little ragged from his coughing.

Chrissy continues, ignoring her boyfriend, “You’d look great! I do Eddie’s make up all the time! I’m going to beauty school, y’know. It’s good practice for me.”

In a way Billy isn’t surprised. Eddie is a freak, after all, and the more time he spends with Chrissy the more he’s starting to realize she’s more or less the same.

“Thanks, but hell no. I’m not… like that.” Billy shakes his head, hoping someone would just change the goddamn conversation already.

“It’s just make-up, dude. It’s not a big deal.” Eddie says casually as he stretches his legs out in front of him, a boot propped up on the edge of the firepit. Apparently not caring if the bottom of it melts.

“You really let her paint your face up, Munson?” Billy asks, still trying to wrap his head around what he’s hearing. Because guys didn’t… do that. Queer or not, you didn’t—unless you were… and Billy wasn’t like that! The wires in his head are crossed, he knows that much, but they’re not totally fried, unless Munson’s apparently were.

“Like the London whore!” Eddie bellows out in a truly terrible British accent. “It’s all very Rocky Horror Picture Show when she’s done with me.”

“Jesus Christ… here I thought me and Steve were the queers.” Billy chuckles dryly.

“Hey!” Steve protests, though Billy’s not sure what about. They are queers. Card carrying, cock-sucking pillow-biters, the pair of ‘em. As fucking insane as that still sounds to admit to himself openly…

“It’s fun!” Chrissy exclaims, voice high, defensive.

“Harmless fun!” Eddie reiterates, voice similarly high.

But there’s no fucking way–

“I don’t like shit getting in my eyes.” Billy grunts out stubbornly.

“Now, that is true. He had to use eye-drops for a few days after he scratched his cornea,” Steve tries to tell his story, but he’s already giggling so damn much that he’s barely fucking intelligible. “I had to sit on his chest and hold his eye open while I put the drops in every single time. I felt like I was wrestling a crocodile.”

“Or maybe he just liked you sitting on him.” Eddie eyebrows jump up and down suggestively which only gets Steve laughing harder, nodding along like he was in on the joke. Christ these two are unbearable when they get together…

“Your lips then.” Chrissy cuts the two knuckleheads off, speaking directly to Billy.

Chrissy’s sweet, but there’s no fucking way Billy’s letting her do that to him. Just the idea of it is… well, not only is it totally bonkers, but it wouldn’t even look good. He’s not… feminine. No part of Billy Hargrove could ever even pass a dainty or whatever. He’s bulky, all hard edges and calluses and scars. He knows he’s hot, sure, but Billy’s not beautiful, even if Steve occasionally whispers it when they’re fucking. But Billy’s not stupid. He knows it’s just something you say. It’s not real. Steve doesn’t actually mean it. “I don’t…”

“You should do it.” Steve says, all smiles. His pupils are blown, eyes gone a little glassy with the high. “Why not?”

Billy narrows his eyes at his boyfriend. “You just want me to look stupid.”

Steve frowns, mouth hanging open in his apparent bewilderment, “Wha-? Why the hell would I want that?”

With a jerky, defensive shrug, Billy answers, “because you get weird when you’re high.”

“Sure, maybe—but I don’t get mean. That’s your thing.” Steve pokes a finger to Billy’s chest.

“I’m just gonna go get my makeup bag!” Chrissy chirps, already up on her feet.

“No–Chrissy, I’m not…” Billy tries to call her back, but she ignores him, disappearing into the bright Harrington house behind them.

“Don’t bother trying to stop her, Hargrove. She’s tiny but she always seems to get her way. It’s like her super power.” Eddie passes on his advice, but Billy just rolls his eyes and grumbles something about not rolling over like a bitch.

When Chrissy comes back, it’s with a fucking suitcase, not a bag. She heaves it up onto one of the glass side tables that creaks and groans under the weight. The boys all watch in fascination as she snaps open the clasp and it unfolds its sides, then unfolds again. It was like a fucking magic trick; the case just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

“There.” She says, hands on her hips, seemingly satisfied. “Okay, Steve, move your tush.”

“Chrissy, I’m not–wait, what are you doing?” Billy’s attention goes from Chrissy to his retreating boyfriend, who’s sliding out from under their shared blanket to stand.

“Moving my tush,” answers Steve, “duh.”

“I was thinking of red at first, but now that I’m looking at you up close, it would overwhelm you. Especially since you won’t let me do your eyes,” Chrissy explains as she plops down where Steve had been, sitting on top of their blanket, effectively sealing Billy in, “so maybe pink.” She holds up several tubes of lipstick to his mouth, humming as she goes.

The corners of his mouth pull down as his brows come together, “Pink?”

Eddie shifts to stand, slapping his thighs as he rises. “Okay, I’m stealing your man, Hargrove.” He threads an arm through Steve’s, “Stevie and I are gonna go see which one of us can hold our breath the longest under the water.”

“For the record, I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t drown.” Steve clarifies as Eddie pulls him towards the pool.

“Come find us when you’re done!” Eddie says in a sing-song voice.

Chrissy just waves a hand over her shoulder in response, more a motion to ‘go away’ as opposed to a farewell wave.

“Those two idiots are going to get themselves killed.” Billy murmurs, stone still as Chrissy holds up yet another tube of lipstick, checking the little color sticker stuck on the bottom.

She giggles, “nah, not when we have Hawkins finest lifeguard here to keep us safe.”

Billy scoffs, gets ready to argue about distractions and inebriated states when pop! Chrissy uncaps a tube of lipstick and the words die in his throat.

“Okay, hold still.” She says, and everything in Billy runs cold. He feels like his heart stops beating in his chest. His lungs solidify. He shuts his eyes so he doesn’t see it coming.

But the expected waxy touch doesn’t reach his lips.

“Billy?” Chrissy asks, in her distinct high, soft voice. It’s strangely soothing. Sort of reminds him of–... Well, another pretty blonde lady who helped him put lipstick on. But that feels like a lifetime ago, back before Billy knew to be ashamed of this sort of thing. Back when he was just playing dress up while the house was empty besides just the two of them. “Billy, if you really don’t want to, I won’t make you. You know that, right?”

And there it is; his out.

The thing he wanted and would have taken a few seconds ago, without hesitation. But… if he’s being honest, he sort of hates that she’s gone ahead and offered it up to him like this. Because now Billy has to make the active choice in this whole humiliating ordeal. How much easier would it have been if she would have just forced him? If it remained out of his hands?

But Chrissy isn’t like that. She isn’t actually pushy. No, she’s… Helpful. Like she could see something in Billy, maybe. The same thing his mom saw. Something Neil had spotted at some point too. Maybe that’s why his dad hates him so much.

Chrissy doesn’t hate him though. Even though he was an asshole in high school, and pretty much everyone hated or was afraid of him back then. But now that they’re out of high school, and Billy’s out out, at least to the handful of people here tonight, he’s surrounded by people that don’t hate him, even though they have every right to. It’s still sort of surreal.

And now Chrissy’s sitting here in front of him on her folded legs, with seemingly endless patience—like she’s got all the time in the world for Billy to work through his impossibly complicated shit. Like how actual friends treat each other, maybe. Billy doesn’t really know. The only real friend he’s ever had turned into his boyfriend, so his frame of reference for this sort of shit is probably fucked up beyond recognition.

But maybe they are friends. And you could trust friends, in theory. He could trust Chrissy, in theory.

“No, it’s okay.” Billy swallows, feels his adam's apple bob in his throat, “I don’t care.” He lies as he flicks what little remained of his cigarette into the crackling fire pit beside them.

She beams, looking like pure sunshine even in this dim, flickering firelight. And fuck, she really is too good for Munson; way out of his fucking league. Just like how Steve is way out of Billy’s. But hey, some people just had shitty taste in men, what’re you gonna do?

“Okay. Well, then pull your lips tight over your teeth–oh, not that tight. Just enough that they’re not–yeah, that’s perfect.” Chrissy instructs him gently, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t make him feel the sharp, hot feeling of shame at any point. Then Billy feels the distantly familiar smooth feeling of lipstick over his mouth. He’s already itching for another smoke, but that may just be his nerves acting out.

“Oh yeah, pink is definitely your color. Eddie looks completely washed out in this shade, but you have those nice warm undertones.” She says, pulling the lipstick along his bottom lip now, taking her time around the edges. It feels like she’s going over his lip line, but he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t risk moving his mouth and throwing Chrissy off. She seems to be completely in her zone. “Dollface looks perfect on you.”

“Doll face?” He frowns. Coming out of his mouth it almost sounds like a slur.

“The shade. It’s called Dollface.” She explains as she pulls back a little, and Billy tries very hard not to immediately wipe all of her hard work off on the sleeve of his shirt. “Can I put blush on you too? I have the perfect shade that would match it.”

“I don’t–... I don’t want to look like a clown or anything.” He mutters, hyper conscious of how different his lips feel when he speaks now.

“It’ll be subtle, I promise. Like mine.” She motions towards her own face and Billy has to squint to see what the fuck she’s talking about. But there is a slight peachy tone to the apples of her cheeks, now that he’s looking for it. “I wouldn’t want to cover any of your freckles up, after all. They’re so cute.”

Jesus… He’s never had this many compliments paid to him so fucking quickly, and all on things that no one ever fucking mentioned. Sure, he gets lots of remarks on his ass and his chest, but those were things he worked tirelessly on, spent hours doing squats and pumping iron. But his eyelashes? His freckles? The blue of his eyes? Those weren’t things he earned. They were just… him. Base model, nothing special, piece of shit with anger issues, Billy Hargrove.

But he nods nonetheless. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She repeats with a smile. She leans back towards her magic make-up bag and fishes out a plastic compact that opens up like a clamshell, along with a big fluffy brush. She swishes it around the pigment for a second before tapping off the excess in a colorful cloud. Billy watches her with an enraptured sort of fascination. She grabs a napkin, and a few other sticks of something before she settles back around in front of him again.

“The trick is to suck in your cheeks, like a little fishy.” She says before she demonstrates it.

And even though it feels stupid and embarrassing, he does the ‘little fishy face’ right along with her.

She hums her approval as she swipes the soft bristles against his cheeks. They catch a little on his stubble. He hopes it doesn’t wreck her brush.

“Perfect,” she coos, soft as a dove. Chrissy snaps the clamshell of pink blush shut and puts it aside before she picks up some of her dark pencils. “Now, I know you said you didn’t want anything in your eyes, but I thought maybe we could try just a water line? You don’t need to, but I promise it won’t go anywhere near your actual eyeball, just your lower lash line. It would really pull the whole look together.”

Billy frowns. Hasn’t he given enough?

Sensing his hesitation, Chrissy continues to plead her case, “it might just tickle, a teeny tiny bit. And if you don’t like it, I’ll stop right away. Deal?”

He hesitates, running his tongue along his teeth as he mulls it over. “It won’t touch my eye at all?”

“Nope. I’ll hug the outside of your lid, I promise. You just gotta stay super still for me, okay? And it washes right off. One lap around the pool and it’ll probably be all gone once you get out.”

Oh, right. Billy had forgotten about how he was going to get this gunk off. He had work tomorrow, and he couldn’t exactly show up at the pool looking like… well. Whatever he looked like now. Billy wasn’t exactly sure. It made his insides squirm.

“Fine. As long as it’s quick.” Billy huffs, readjusting his legs so that they didn’t fall asleep on him.

“Quick as a bunny!” She uncaps the pencil and leans forward.

Her hands are back on his face–only this time she’s pulling down at the skin where his eye bags usually form if he doesn't get enough sleep. Billy expects it to hurt, or maybe to burn a little, but she’s right; it just tickles. He flinches when the cool tip of the pencil initially hits the sensitive skin of his lower lid, but Chrissy remains as patient as a saint, and just waits for him to stop blinking before she tries again. And this time Billy knows what to expect, so Chrissy’s able to do a full swipe, left to right, focusing a little on the outer edge, before she moves onto the next eye and does the same.

“Now,” She murmurs as she retrieves the napkin, “kiss this.”

He screws his face up, “what?”

“To get the excess off. And it makes the lipstick last longer.” She waves the bit of tissue in his face. “Trust me, I’m almost an expert.”

Billy sincerely has his doubts, but he kisses the tissue, blotting his lipstick. It still feels like a lot is left on his mouth, but it doesn’t feel as… heavy. Sort of feels nice, actually. And when he pulls the napkin away it’s marked the perfect imprint of his pink kiss. If he didn’t just finish making it himself he wouldn’t have thought his lips were even capable…

“Do you want gloss?” Chrissy asks, pulling him from his fog.

“Won’t that ruin the—“ Billy points towards his mouth, “this layer?”

She shakes her head, sending her blonde ponytail into motion behind her, “No, it sort of just seals it. And bonus, it tastes like bubblegum.”

Steve likes bubblegum.

“Alright.” He says quickly, with a jerky sort of shrug. He’s already made it this far, he might as well see it through all the way. And it’s not like he’s going to do this again or anything… may as well go full hog.

So she pulls out a wand coated in the clear looking gel and does a final swipe over the top of his lips with it. It feels sort of sticky. And now that it’s sitting under his nose, he really can smell the bubblegum.

“Done!” Chrissy exclaims as she pulls her hands away. She holds them up and away from Billy, as if to reassure him that she’s finished with her torture. “Smile for me so I know I didn’t get anything on your teeth.”

And there’s no way he can give Chrissy anything remotely genuine at the moment, so Billy simply bares his teeth for her to inspect.

“No lipstick on your teeth. And I think I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.” Chrissy says, admiring her handiwork.

“Yeah?” Billy clears his throat, not knowing where to look. Eddie and Steve are still busy splashing and shoving each other in the pool, so at least he doesn’t need to worry about them. “I don’t look too stupid?”

She smacks his arm with the back of her hand, “You don’t look stupid at all, silly. You look great!” She then starts tidying up her makeup, putting everything back in its proper place. Billy watches her with the same fascination as he did while she was taking it out.

“Your mom teach you this shit?” Billy asks.

She frowns, just a little. “Some of it.”

He nods. His leg bounces. Resists the urge to rub at his eyes. The hard shells of Chrissy’s makeup containers clack together as she rearranges them.

“My mom used to—“ Billy mumbles, quiet enough that he very much doubts Chrissy had even heard him, but when he looks up, she’s stopped putting her things away, and her eyes are on him. Waiting for him to go on.

He clears his throat, doesn’t even know why he’s confessing this to her, but a strange compulsion seems to have taken over him. He feels the words right at the tip of his tongue before he can think to bury them back down, back to somewhere deep within himself. “My mom used to do this for me sometimes. When I was really little.”

It’s something that should be embarrassing. Something to laugh at, like the punchline of a joke. But Chrissy doesn’t laugh. She smiles gently. “Those sound like happy memories.”

Billy frowns—he’d never thought of them as happy, per se. More embarrassing than anything else. Something he can’t look in the eye. Billy ducks his head, feels his eyes sting. He should stop, he knows. Just shut the hell up. Because why the hell is he getting himself worked up over a dumb childhood memory in front of some chick he barely knows? It’s stupid.

And yet, the idea of not saying more seems even more unbearable than eating his words.

“I’d ask her to, when she was in the mirror getting ready or whatever.” Billy explains, daring to meet her eye before retreating to somewhere off in the distance. “This was before I knew it was, y’know… not something boys did. My dad made sure I knew it though, after he caught us. I didn’t ask after that.”

The truth of it is, maybe those memories could have been happy if they didn’t exist exclusively under the shadow of Neil. He can’t picture his mom’s smiling face without also picturing Neil’s disgusted one. Can’t remember how it felt having the make up on his face when the bruises lasted so much longer. He can’t hear the soft words his mom had whispered to him over the roar of the awful names Neil called him afterwards—the ones he never stopped calling him. It’s no wonder Billy’s so goddamn fucked in the head.

Then, there’s a hand slipping overtop of his, small and soft, squeezing against his rough, calloused ones. “I’m sorry.”

Billy feels a rush of emotions, but he’s not entirely sure which direction they’re flowing. Hot or cold.

Part of him wants to stand up and scream at Chrissy that he doesn’t need her fucking pity—that Billy Hargrove doesn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him, that sympathy is for the weak—and Billy isn’t weak.

Some shit Neil would do.

But in the moment, Billy can’t find the strength to do any of it. He just sits there and squeezes her hand back. So maybe he is weak after all.

“My parents were tough on me too,” Chrissy explains, keeping her voice low. “I sort of always felt like a disappointment to them.”

”You?” Billy scoffs, his voice frustratingly shakey, “you’re like, perfect.”

“Yeah, well, some parents are dummies. They get all upset when their kid turns out differently than how they expected.” Chrissy says with a tilt of her head. And Billy knows she isn’t just talking about her own mom and dad. “Dumb, right?”

Billy nods as he sniffs back any congestion that dared try and accumulate in his nose, along with the tears he doesn’t let fall. He blinks a few times, letting the air take them. “Yeah, real fuckin’ dumb.”

Chrissy smiles, and it’s like she’s beaming. Too fucking good for Munson, Billy thinks again as she stands, bringing him along with her by way of their clasped hands. “You ready to show the boys?”

A new wave of uncertainty hits Billy straight in the gut, but he keeps pace with her. ”You sure I don’t look stupid?”

“I’m positive. You should trust me, Billy. I’m like, really smart.” Chrissy insists, a playful giggle on the edge of her words.

Billy scoffs in response, but he doesn’t bother arguing. She is smart. Smarter than the rest of them combined, most likely.

When they approach the pool, Steve and Eddie are so preoccupied with staying underwater they don’t even notice Chrissy and him. Which suits Billy just fine; he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to his painted face than it was already inevitably going to get. They just slip into the shallow end and wait for the other two to come up for air. Or drown.

It’s Eddie that breaks the surface first in a flurry of splashing and gasping breaths. He’d probably catch his breath faster if he stopped cursing for a second, but Eddie’s got one of those mouths that never fucking stops.

Steve is the second to rise out of the water. While Eddie looks like a drowned fucking rat, Steve looks like he’s materialized out of a copy of Sports Illustrated as usual. His hair’s slicked back, but he gives it a good shake and briefly runs his fingers through the strands, somehow making it look just as good as always. God’s fucking favourite, that one.

Billy’s gotta look away because sometimes it’s even too much for him to take in.

“You cheated.” Eddie accuses Steve.

“Yeah, I cheated by not smoking a pack a day for the past four years like you have.” Steve snorts as he backstrokes to the shallow end, followed by Eddie’s doggy paddle.

“So he admits to cheating. I want that on record.” Eddie calls over to Chrissy and Billy, who’ve propped themselves up on the stone steps leading into the pool, patiently (or, impatiently if Billy’s being honest) waiting.

Steve flips around when his feet can touch, and immediately locks eyes on Billy. And then he just. Stares.

God, Billy really wishes he weren’t sober for this. That was sort of an oversight on his part. Hell, he hadn’t even grabbed a cigarette on his way over so he’s got nothing to do with his hands besides letting them hang by his side, his elbows propping him up behind him.

“Holy shit…” Steve mutters, coming towards him like he’s locked in some kind of weird tractor beam.

“Looking good, Hargrove.” Munson says as he crowds Chrissy, who doesn’t seem put off by the attention. In fact, she sort of lights up under it. So weird. “I almost couldn’t tell you two sexy blondes apart.” He winks.

Billy rolls his eyes, grimacing at the remark. He makes a mental note to give Munson a Charlie horse the next time he’s within arms reach. But when his eyes return to Steve’s, he’s… like, struck stupid or something.

“You kill off one too many of your brain cells under the water, pretty boy?” Billy quirks a brow, trying to give what he hopes is a sharp grin, even from behind his pink lips. “You and I both know you can’t afford to lose anym—“

Then Steve’s kissing him.

Actually kissing him.

In front of people.

…They’ve never done that before. Not ever. Not that they’d ever talked about it, but they didn’t need to. Because Steve and Billy didn’t do PDA. It just isn’t in the cards for them. And yet—

Steve seems to hear Billy’s internal struggle and pulls away, taking some of Billy’s bubblegum lip gloss with him, looking a little sheepish as he licks his lips. “Sorry. I couldn’t really control myself there for a second.”

“You’re hanging around with Eddie too much.” Chrissy laughs, and is rewarded by a playful bite to the cheek from Munson, as if to prove her point of his impulsivity.

“You just look so… good.” Steve admits, and Billy’s stomach doesn’t do an entire flip inside of him. It doesn’t. He’s fine. “You look beau—”

“Don’t.” Billy cuts in. He’s already exposed enough, he doesn’t need Steve to wax poetically about his fucking beauty in front of an audience. Even if it is just Chrissy and Eddie.

“But you do!” Steve insists, smiling, going all syrupy on him. Must still be feeling the effect of that joint from earlier.

”I swear to god, Harrington, I will drown you.” Billy gets his hands on Steve’s biceps and keeps him at bay. Steve pouts and whines.

Yep, definitely still high.

“Good luck, he can stay under for like four whole minutes.” Eddie mutters, still sulking about his defeat. Steve throws him a long suffering roll of his eyes.

“C’mon, let’s see if you can win back your dignity with a game of chicken.” Chrissy all but shoves Eddie off. He’s like a fucking leech. Though Steve isn’t too far off at the moment.

“You know I’ll never say no to having your legs wrapped around my head, sweetheart.” Eddie swoons and even Steve has the decency to balk at the audacity.

“Alright, you take shoulders.” Billy sighs as he pushes off the hard steps. He’s a way sturdier bottom than Steve could ever hope to be.

When Steve doesn’t answer, Billy claps his hands on either side of the column of Steve’s neck, hoping the hit’ll knock a little sense into Steve’s oxygen deprived brain. “Hey, you with me, amigo?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Steve finally sputters out, still unable to break eye contact, “Always, baby.”

Billy ignores the way it makes every inch of him feel warm, and fucking. Cherished. God damn. Harrington really is going to be the death of him.

By the time their game of water chicken has wrapped, Billy’s been thoroughly soaked so there’s not much makeup left on his face, save for a slight pink residue on the lines of his lips. It’s for the best, he thinks. It didn’t look right on him anyway…

But when Chrissy’s hugging him goodbye, she not-so-subtly slips Dollface into his pocket and pulls away with a cheeky, knowing sort of grin. He almost cracks a smile before Eddie is glomming onto him, insisting he also is in dire need of a goodbye hug.

Billy shoves him off before he gets too comfortable, and Eddie folds with a manic, downright deranged laugh that somehow, against all odds, seems to be growing on Billy. Will wonders never fucking cease?

Later that night, before going to sleep next to Steve, he puts the tube of lipstick into the top drawer in Steve’s bathroom. Knows it’ll be safe there, like every other god forsaken thing Billy’s given him—including his busted up, worn down, hardened heart—Steve always keeps whatever Billy gives him safe.

#SO self indulgent #kinktober turned into Flufftober I’m so sorry #I am working on a follow up with smut I SWEAR #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #Eddie Munson #platonic calicheer #the unexpected friendship between Chrissy and Billy 💕💕💕💕#platonic Steddie #but Eddie is so painfully bisexual here #he wants to kiss everyone on the mouth so bad he’s vibrating #stranger things #Harringrove fic #Harringrove Kinktober 2024 #hk2024 #my writing #write Rae write #background hellcheer #I don’t even think this qualifies as background hellcheer because the ship is as featured as Harringrove tbh #so #hellcheer #Billy Hargrove centric #gay Billy Hargrove #Bisexual Eddie Munson #so much necromancy required for this fic to be possible #suspend your disbelief okay everyone lives and everyone’s queer #hgkinktober2024

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hippiegoth97 · 6 days ago

Note

Hi! I don't know if you do requests right now because you're probably working on a lot of upcoming projects, so don't feel pressured to write my request. I just can't get this idea out of my head; it's been on my mind for almost a week now. So, who better to ask than my favorite writer?! Anyways, reader recently came out as bisexual and is now in her first relationship with a woman, Chrissy, who's also bisexual. She is still new to the sexual experience with a woman, so Chrissy helps her out. I hope that's enough information for you to work with 💜

A/N: Okay, this has been sitting in my inbox forever, and my other projects unfortunately got in the way. But it's here, finally! I hope you enjoy it, I've never written Chrissy this way before! And I haven't written as much WLW fic as I'd like, so hopefully this doesn't suck! Thanks again for requesting, and *blush* thanks for saying I'm your favorite, it means a lot 💜

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, swearing, fem!bisexual!reader, bisexual!chrissy cunningham, fluff, LGBTQ+ themes, coming out, light angst, past relationships, oral sex, fingering

“Just relax, baby. Let me make you feel good.” Chrissy says as she looms over you on the couch in her apartment. Her eyes peer into yours, confident and reassuring. Your comfortable smile matches her own, the two of you having downed a nice meal of pasta and red wine before cozying up to watch a movie you'd rented. Of course, the film became far less interesting than each other's mouths rather quickly. And now, she's got you safely caged in, her body slotted between your thighs as her gaze offers you the world.

You've been seeing each other for a couple months after an initial blind date, courtesy of your friends. That went as awkward as one could imagine, complete with fumbling hands and a drink spilled on someone’s blouse. But once the ball got rolling, sparks began to fly between you in no time at all. Chrissy is unbelievably sweet, and kind. She genuinely cares about your needs. And you do everything you can to be the same for her.

You haven't always dated women, Chrissy is actually the first woman you've ever been with. Well, beyond the occasional drunken party make-out with Robin. It took you far too long to figure out you are indeed bisexual, denying your feelings and pretending. But at a certain point, it all clicked. You like girls as much as you like boys, and that scared the hell out of you when you first pieced it together. And it scared you even more to tell your friends about it.

You're pacing back and forth near the front door, waiting for your friends to arrive. You've invited them over under the guise of hanging out and having drinks. A typical Friday night. They have no idea what the real reason is, and how terrified you are. Tonight, you plan to come out of the closet.

You know you shouldn't be this freaked out. You really don't have anything to worry about when it comes to your group of friends. Robin is gay, Eddie (your ex) is bi himself and now dating Steve (also bi, obviously). And Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle are the most supportive people in the world to all of them. You know they'll love you no matter what, that they'll be happy for you. But you can't help being a nervous wreck regardless, you've always been a chronic worrier.

Before you have time to fake being sick and call the whole thing off, the doorbell rings. “Fuck.” You mutter, smoothing down your shirt and running your hands over your hair to straighten up. You open the door, finding five smiling faces waiting for you. Steve's got a couple six packs in his grip, with Eddie gripping a bottle of whiskey while his other arm rests around Steve's waist. “Hey guys, come in.” You smile nice and wide, opening the door further to let them inside.

“Hey, Y/N. How's it going?” Robin asks, pulling you into a hug with her hands full of chip bags.

“Great, now that you're all here.” You say, genuinely meaning it. The second you’ve seen them all standing there in the entryway, you know everything is going to be fine. These wonderful people are your family, after everything you've been through together.

“Always happy to be around, sweetheart.” Eddie chimes in, helping Steve set the booze down on your kitchen counter just off the entrance to your apartment. Even though you're not together anymore, Eddie still drops the sweet names he used to call you. It's nice to be on such good terms with him, your break-up actually went pretty well. You cared about each other, and had a lot in common. But things just weren't working, and you decided you'd be better off as friends. Besides, he's never been happier now that he has Steve. And fuck knows Steve is totally over the moon to have his love after a long line of absolute duds.

“Thanks, Eds.” You reply, immediately grabbing the bottle of liquor to pour some into a glass.

“Eager to get the party started, huh?” Jonathan asks, giving you an odd glance. It usually takes a wee bit of playful peer pressure to get you to drink up, and here you are beating them all to the punch.

“Yeah. Why not?” You answer casually, knocking back a shot's worth before filling the glass halfway. You don't even bother with ice, you need the full sting of the alcohol to loosen your lips a little. Everyone else gets their drinks, and you all make your way to the couch and chairs in your humble living room. Nancy sits on Jonathan's lap on the sofa, Robin and Argyle taking the space beside them. Steve and Eddie take chairs side by side, while you stay standing.

“Something wrong, Y/N?” Steve questions, noticing your fingers anxiously tapping on your glass. Now that you're standing in front of them, your confidence is resting on shaky ground.

“Uh, yeah. I just, um…h-have something I've been wanting to tell you guys.” You start, eyes darting between them and the floor.

“You're not knocked up are you?” Eddie jokes, earning a smack from Steve. “Ow! Sorry, kidding.” He puts his hands up defensively, ignoring the disapproving glare from his boyfriend.

“It's fine. And no, it's not that.” You let out a dry giggle, partially wishing it really was something that simple.

“Ooh, does someone have a new boy toy?” Nancy pipes up, drawing ‘oohs’ from the others.

“Nah, he'd be hangin’ off her arm right now if she did.” Argyle chuckles. The rest of them laugh, too, further detracting from what you're trying to do here. You grip your glass tighter as they go back and forth making comments and poking fun. You know they mean well, and you love them to pieces. But you need a damn second to say this before you change your mind.

“That's not it, alright!?” You snap, shutting them up. The group looks at you with wide eyes, and you sigh. “Sorry. It's just really important that I tell you guys this. It's been weighing on me for a while, and I need you to listen.”

“It's fine, angel. We shouldn't have interrupted. Tell us what's goin’ on.” Eddie says apologetically, gesturing to give you the floor.

“Okay.” You pause, taking a deep breath. “I'm just gonna…come out and say it.” You scoff at your own unintended pun. “I'm…” You clear your throat, and spit it out already. “...bisexual.” You finish, holding your breath now as the room is still silent.

“Is that all?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. You frown, and he elaborates. “Sorry, I just thought we knew this already.” He shrugs.

“What? No!” You cross your arms, getting defensive. You search the eyes of your other friends, finding no amount of surprise in them whatsoever. “You mean to tell me everybody knew except for me?” You ask in annoyance.

“To be honest, princess? We thought you did, too.” Eddie replies, bearing an awkward expression.

“Well, I didn't, so…” You say meekly, overwhelmingly embarrassed. They all knew. It makes you wonder, if perhaps there's some big, obnoxious neon sign on your forehead that says ‘QUEER’ on it. Bright and flashing for everyone to see, except for you. “God, I’m a fucking idiot.” You scoff again, shaking your head. You down the rest of your drink, storming off to the kitchen for another.

“Y/N.” Robin calls after you, getting up from her seat to follow you. The others are only a step behind, on a mission to comfort you. Rob meets you at the counter, putting her hand on your shoulder as you pour a larger glass this time. You hesitantly meet her gaze, wondering what she'll say. “Y/N, you're not an idiot. Okay? We know how hard figuring this out is. Well, most of us, anyway.” She gets a small laugh from the others at that, as well as you. “Look, maybe we knew before you did, but that's not a bad thing. We've been where you are. Hiding, denying, feeling confused and afraid. But we love you exactly as you are, no matter what.” She pulls you in for a tight hug, and you gladly squeeze her back with all your might.

“You're stuck with us, babydoll. Us queers have to stick together.” Eddie adds, making you laugh through your happy tears. He joins in the hug, followed by the rest of your wonderful friends.

“Thanks, guys. I'm so lucky to call you my friends, my family. I love you all so much.” You say affectionately, muffled against Robin's shoulder.

“We love you too, man.” Argyle speaks on everyone's behalf, earning silent nods as they surround you in a comforting huddle.

“You okay, Y/N? You went somewhere else for a minute there.” Chrissy pulls you out of your own head, concern staining the smile on her face.

“Yeah. I'm fine. Where were we?” You answer, focusing on sharing this moment with her.

“Well…” She smirks, lowering herself to kiss your lips. It's soft and warm, and heat pools in your belly. “...I was gonna go down on my girlfriend.” Another kiss, firmer this time, but still just as loving. “Is that what you want, baby?” She purrs, waiting for your permission.

“Yes.” You whisper back, earning her mouth on yours once again. Chrissy slips her tongue past your lips, tangling with your own. Quiet moans leave you both, the temperature in the room quickly rising. Her fingers nimbly open the buttons on your blouse, the fabric parting to reveal your bra. Her hands trail up your waist and over your ribs, meeting the plush cups covering your breasts. She's not shy about squeezing them together, getting a real feel for the size and shape of them. “Chris.” You moan as her lips leave yours to find your neck instead.

Chrissy’s movements are completely self-assured. Simultaneously keeping you at ease, and driving you wild with arousal. You've never felt more comfortable getting intimate with someone than you do right now. Every kiss and touch feels like the best decision ever made, all by her hand. Though it's far too early to say it out loud, it's certain that you're falling in love with her. “Sit up, I wanna see more of my gorgeous girl.” Chrissy coos, backing off to let you up. You do as she asks, and she gently sheds you of your shirt before reaching around to your back. The clasp of your bra unhooks as if by magic, the straps falling slack from your shoulders. She gingerly removes the piece of underwear from you, revealing your pert mounds, nipples stiffened in the centers. “God, you're so pretty.” Chrissy exhales, finding your gaze again.

“Thanks.” You blush, bashfully looking up at her through your lashes. The way she's admiring you with her eyes, it's like you're a mythical goddess she's vying to worship. No man has ever looked at you this way, not even Eddie, who was definitely the best of them. It's as if you're truly being seen for the very first time. “Baby…” You let out a small giggle, having to turn away as her stare burns into you with the power of a thousand smiling suns.

“Oh, honey. Don't look away.” Chrissy tuts as she guides you to face her again, her soft fingers leading your chin. “You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Can you really blame me for getting lost in your image?” She says earnestly, the words charging the air with intense sexual electricity. It's official, you're about one step away from proposing if she keeps this up.

“I guess not.” You chuckle, unsure what else to say. Without another word, Chrissy leads you to lie down again. She follows you downward, her lips finding your collarbone next. She takes your bare breasts in her hands, sweetly massaging them in her palms. Her thin fingers and thumbs lovingly work your nipples, earning more quiet moans from you. Her mouth travels further along, meeting the top of your chest. The kisses she leaves are silky and warm, dialing up the simmering heat inside of you at a steady pace.

Chrissy keeps going, her hands leaving your tits to be replaced by her eager mouth. She kisses every inch she can reach, making your head feel light. Her hands reach further down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding the zipper down its track. She slips inside the opening, finding what she imagines are matching panties. She presses on, no hesitation as she maneuvers underneath the luxe fabric to locate your needy clit.

“Fuck.” You moan as Chrissy's fingertips whisper over the sensitive bud.

“Oh, you're so wet, honey...” She smiles against your skin, pleased to know how good she's making you feel. She swirls your slick around, toying between your folds, circling your weeping hole. Her lips continue to worship your tits, licking and sucking to keep the pretty sounds spilling out of you. Your thigh happens to be between her legs in this position, and she can't help grinding against it as she's becoming rather worked up herself. She sighs into your flesh at the friction, your head spinning even more at the angelic sound.

“Feels so good, baby.” You say softly, cradling her head in your hand. Her strawberry blonde hair is in a ponytail, it almost always is, giving you the perfect view of her gorgeous face. Her plush lips and succulent tongue toil over your left nipple, her eyes blissfully closed. You can feel her breath fanning hotly across your skin, hear the soft moans as she slowly continues to grind on your leg, while her hand keeps riling you up inside your pants. After a few moments of being entranced by her, Chrissy slips two fingers into your soaked cunt. “Oh, god…” You whimper as she fills you up, curling her digits to hit your g-spot. The motion is slow and repetitive, teasing you before the main event.

She pulls her lips away from your addictive flesh, cupping your cheek. “I can't wait to taste how sweet you are.” She says softly, shifting herself off of your thigh to rest between your legs. Her hands reach for the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down along with your panties. You're left completely exposed to her now, knees tented to reveal your soaked pussy. Chrissy's smile grows at the sight, a twinkle of lust in her eyes as her gaze shifts between your face and cunt. “You ready for me, Y/N?” She asks, one final chance to make sure you're ready for this.

“Yes. Please.” You reply, without a care in the world for how needy you sound. A breathy giggle leaves her at that, and she maneuvers herself above where you desire her most. Her eyes flutter at the scent of you, musky and inviting. It's tempting for her to kiss your inner thighs first, drive you a teensy bit more insane before giving you what you want. But the unabashed begging in your expression makes her think better of it. Instead, she leans in, and licks a thick, wet stripe from your entrance to your clit. “Oh, fuck…” You gasp loudly, clutching at the couch cushions with your hands. It would be obvious to say you've been eaten out many times before, but nothing like this. It's like Chrissy’s tongue was made for you, setting your insides ablaze with a single stroke. You've never experienced anything so intense before, it almost makes you feel like you've gone crazy, or been dosed with some unknown drug.

“That feel good, baby?” She asks, gingerly gripping your thighs to hold you in place. She's both surprised and amused that you tried so hard not to squirm or buck your hips from one simple touch.

“Yes. So fucking good, Chris. Better than anything I've ever felt before.” The words pour out of you as if on command, all sense of control leaving your already sweating body.

“Yeah? Good thing I'm just getting started.” She says lowly, more dark and seductive than you've ever heard from her previously. It nearly sends your eyes rolling back into your head. That is, until her tongue returns between your folds where it belongs.

“Fucking christ…” You moan as she carefully circles around your sensitive bud, occasionally licking downwards to find every last sensitive nerve at your entrance. It takes everything in you not to grind into her face, or pin her down with your hands. Instead, one hand grasps the end of the couch cushion, while the other claws for the armrest above your head. It's all you can do to keep yourself even slightly together, and focus on the immense pleasure Chrissy gives you.

“So sweet, baby. Such pretty noises, too.” She praises between passionate licks.

You can’t offer much in reply besides your shameless moans, hands squeezing the plush of the couch as she drives you near the edge. It won’t take much longer at all, it’s almost embarrassing how quickly Chrissy has worked you up so close to climax. Her tongue prods around the spot that sends your knees buckling every time, making your thighs jerk in her grip. “Fuck.” You gasp, hoping she’ll keep touching you…

“Right there?” Chrissy asks in a sultry tone, repeating the motion to get an answer out of you.

“Yeah, fuck, right there. Don’t stop.” You answer breathlessly, sweat gathering on your brow, and in the bends of your knees. You’re practically digging holes into the upholstery of the sofa at this point, nails clawing so deep when you wish they were buried in Chrissy’s silky locks instead. Self-control wanes from you, and you can’t stop twitching and mewling with every stroke of her tongue against your pussy.

“So close already, baby?” She asks, struggling to hold your legs still while she eats you out.

“Mhm, don’t stop..please, wanna…wanna cum.” You say desperately to her, dangling over the precipice of complete and utter bliss now. All she has to do is cut you loose and let you fall. You can’t hold back anymore, your hands taking control of her head before you even register what you’re doing. There’s a gnawing need deep inside yourself, and you have to help Chrissy relieve it. She moans against you at your forcefulness, allowing you to take some control. Your fingers are weaved deep inside her hair, your hips rolling furiously into her pretty face. “So close, so close…” You whimper, panting like a feral animal. Your insides start to quiver as your orgasm comes into view, bright twinkling stars threatening to flood your vision. Chrissy pushes you that much further by keeping your pace, working your weak spot and your clit in tandem. “Oh, god, oh, oh, OH…” Your moans grow louder as your high ramps up, and one perfectly placed stroke of Chrissy’s tongue sends you toppling over the edge. “Chris一 fuck!” You cry out as your thighs tremble in her grip, hips bucking without rhyme or reason as you cum hard on her face.

“Mm.” Chrissy moans as she drinks up your juices, her eyes glued to the beautiful expression on your face in this moment. Eyes screwed closed, mouth agape in ecstasy, skin glistening with sweat as pleasure rips through you. It’s an expression she’s only seen once thus far, but it’s one she’ll strive to see again and again for as long as she knows you. She strokes your thighs gently as you slowly come down from your high, planting a warm kiss to your hip before pulling away. “How was that, honey?” She asks, words dripping with honey as she lays herself on top of you. Her weight rests carefully over yours, drawing your lust-drenched eyes to find her gorgeous face gazing upon you with even more admiration than before, if that’s even possible.

“It was the best I’ve ever had, baby.” You say with a satisfied smile, lifting your head to give her a kiss. You hum at the taste of yourself, and the plush warmth of her lips. You pull away a moment after, lips still brushing against one another as the fire is reignited in your belly. “Your turn.” You add, soft and confident. You’re ready to take your first try at this, because with Chrissy, every single thing feels easy.

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