#eventually Steve realizes that the Party will never leave him and they never do

[artiststarme]

Steve couldn’t understand why the Party wanted him around. He didn’t see why anyone would want to hang around some deadbeat that peaked in high school, he certainly wouldn’t. Case in point, all of his friends were going somewhere. Dustin was a genius, Robin was brilliant, and Eddie was going to be a world famous rockstar like Freddy Mercury was. Max was healing nicely and she would be something important, Lucas was great with people so he’d have a bright future, and Mike was… passionate. El and Will were fabulous so he was sure they would amount to everything.

Why would any of them drag themselves down with Steve? Robin could choose so many other soulmates better than Steve. He couldn’t relate to being a “band geek” in high school or working full time to save money for college, he couldn’t even get into college. In his mind, anyone could be a better friend to her than he could.

And why was Eddie dating him? Beautiful, smart, strategic, funny Eddie. He could have anyone he wanted and yet he settled for Steve. No matter how many times Eddie told him he loved him and couldn’t imagine life without him, Steve couldn’t wrap his head around it. What was so special about himself that all of these people stuck around?

Nothing had changed over the years, really. He was still the neglected boy sitting on the bleachers after baseball practice, waiting for his parents to come pick him up. Even back when he was little, his parents knew he was nothing special. They’d taken the first flight out of Hawkins and had hardly looked back since.

Hell, even Steve’s friends in high school figured it out. Tommy and Carol hadn’t said a word to encourage him to stay, they sent him away with silent glares and indifferent shrugs as if being a friend to Steve was more of an effort than it was worth.

And Nancy, his first heartbreak. She dropped him like everyone else always had. As soon as another boy showed her kindness and affection, she dropped Steve like a hot potato and broke his heart on the way out the door.

Steve knew it was only a matter of time before the Party grew tired of him. Every outing, Steve watched them like it would be the last time. Because just like everyone else, they would all leave and move onto better things. And Steve would be left broken with no one to pick up the pieces.

[meraki-sunset]

What would Steve do to Ford if Bill did die to the Quantum Destabilizer? Or in general?

He wouldn't get the time to do anything since, with Bill dead, the Weirdmageddon would stop, and he would get sucked through the rift with the rest of the henchmaniacs, back to the nightmare realm

And if he did have time to do something, he wouldn't be able to do much because he doesn't have any powers, he's still a regular Euclidean. The only reason he can fly on earth, it's because Bill shared that ability with him, like with the rest of the henchmaniacs.

He might trow rocks at him before he gets sucked back into the nightmare realm. 

On the other hand, once in the nightmare realm he might try to take revenge in the only way he can, by giving the Pines family nightmares from there.

Now, we saw on canon that Dipper and Mabel were able to easily defeat Bill when they realized they could create anything in a dream just like him, to fight him. And they would defeat Steve over and over, but over time Steve would get better, leaving them tired every morning

Eventually, exhausted, one of they will fall for the only trick that Steve knows that's actually his, hypnosis.

Bill always told him that his hypnosis was a party trick that almost never worked, but in this scenario, it finally did.

Having possessed one of them, he won't use them for any elaborate plan, he won't try to destroy gravity falls or anything of the sort. In a true "cryptid from the forest" fashion, He'll just make them disappear.

I don't know what he would do, but they won't find that family member ever again, and they will never have nightmares again that could give them a chance to ask him what he did, steve will dissapear, but they will never stop looking for their family member, and they'll never find them, restless forever.

This is of course a scenario where his plan works, there's a big chance Ford would find a way to protect the family against the nightmares, ruining his plan forever. Either way, if he get's revenge or not, Steve will always end the same, stuck in the nightmare realm until it's eventual destruction.

Edit: Something i forgot to add it's Bill and Steve are similar in their madness but oposite in their personalities and methods. While Bill would make a spectacle of his revenge and make sure everyone sees him enjoy their pain, Steve would carry out his revenge in silence and dissapear, his revenge leaves you empty because there's no big angry crazy guy to defeat. He takes something you love and vanishes, and you have to survive the emptiness.

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part two (8.790 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation, mentions of SA&SH, manipulation, toxic relationship (OCxR), revenge porn, use of drugs.

| Author's notes — I don't know how I feel about that second part, i'm not sure i like it, but now it's written it costs me nothing to share. So here we are. I can just hope that I managed to convey, at least a little, the emotions I wanted to. And, most importantly, take care of yourself.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

Almost a year has gone by, and it means one thing: in a few weeks, it’s going to be Natasha's birthday, again. The woman is not sure how she feels about it. She never really had a birthday before she joined the Avengers, and despite the years that have passed since, she still feels a certain awkwardness at this time of the year. Especially as the boys tended to do too much.

She could only pretend to match their enthusiasm. A slight smile spreads across her face as she takes a sip from her drink, staying silent. She has been listening to her teammates talking about her birthday’s party for almost half an hour now. She stopped trying to avoid it a long time ago, when she realized how much they enjoyed organizing this stupid party. She can deal with anything they’re going to come up with if she gets to see their smiles in exchange. Her sentence won’t last more than a few hours, but the memories are going to stick with them for eternity, and it has no price.

"Wait, you know what?” someone asked. It was Clint, and by the mischievous smile on his face, the redhead already knew that she wouldn't appreciate the next words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I think we should have the mascot come over again," he added, his eyes not leaving hers. "What? It was funny to have a cartoon version of you running around," he defended himself when he saw her glance darkening.

"You know what? Do whatever you want," she mumbled, “it’s not as if you were asking for my opinion anyway,” she eventually gave in. Sometimes, you have to know how to pick your battles, and that is one she definitely cannot win, not when all the others seem to appreciate the idea.

"That’s such a great idea!” one exclaimed, and this time it was Peter Parker, “Mr. Stark, do you think they would accept to come again?” he asked the man.

"Obviously!" Tony replied without an ounce of hesitation, laughing at the question. The man thought it was a stupid thing to ask, "she likes you too much to miss your birthday,” he explained, pointing at the redhead while saying those words. "What? She pretends it’s not true, but I know she is lying. I can see right through her and, believe me, she’ll be here,"  he explained when he noticed the confused looks of his teammates.

"Who’s she?" a voice asked, cutting short to Tony’s rambling. That’s the question that has been on everyone’s minds, but that no one dared to ask out loud, except for one of them — And it hasn’t been Natasha, it is Steve that spoke first.

On the contrary, the woman remained silent because she didn’t need words to express herself, a silent conversation taking place between the billionaire and her through a simple glance. Even if she already has her suspicions, and is almost sure that she knows the answer to that question, she wants him to say it, refusing to believe it otherwise.

The moment she saw the box, she was intrigued by it, something drawing the woman to the small package that no one claimed as theirs. It’s almost as if it came out of nowhere, no one knowing who left it here, or what may be inside the black box. At first, she thought it was some joke, but she knew they were being honest when saying they had nothing to do with the gift. And if she had expected a lot of things to be wrapped in the red ribbon, she definitely wasn’t ready for a ghost from her past to emerge from it.

A quick glance before she suddenly closes the box again, that’s all it took for the redhead to know who was behind that gift. The only thing she could think about was how — How did it happen without any of them noticing your presence? Despite the appearances, and the smile she was trying to keep on, the woman was shaken — Why would you do that, more than two years after your break up? Could it be that you are that desperate?

"Is everything okay?" Clint asked, being the only one to seem to notice a change in Natasha’s behavior. At least, everyone had enough restraint to not ask the question that burns their lips — What’s inside the box?

She wouldn’t have answered if one of them had asked. She wouldn’t even have opened the gift if she had known that it was from you, and that’s probably why you left it on the table, avoiding giving it to her directly. Smart girl, she thought. At first sight, the woman couldn’t tell it was coming from you but there was no doubt remaining once she saw the content — There is only one person on Earth that cares enough to give her such a gift. A person that constantly looks after her, guessing what the redhead wasn’t telling.

A person that she used to love. 

A person that couldn’t be here, was she? The woman can’t help but glance around but she can’t find your face. What was she expecting anyway? To see you in the corner of the room with a bright smile and your arms open for her to throw herself in a hug? That was stupid, and so is the hint of hope she felt when she opened the box. The others told her many times she has to turn the page, but she doesn’t seem ready to let you go. Even after two years, she is still craving your presence as much as before.

The thought of it puts to shame the redhead who knows she shouldn’t hold on to the past, especially when the past in question has a pretty face and breaks her heart. Even after what you’ve done to her, she has spent hours crying, praying for you to come back. Even after listening to the others assuring her that she deserves better, she couldn’t forget how you’ve always been the most caring, and strong, and beautiful person she has ever met in her life. 

You weren’t horrible. Were you? 

Sometimes, she thinks you are a monster. 

Sometimes, she thinks she is, for not listening to you that day. 

That day, she let her anger speak for her, something she swore she would never do again. When she started to realize that, maybe, she should’ve listened to your version of the events, it was too late. At the time, she couldn’t bear to hear the sound of your voice or see your voice, but after two years, as the memory of it starts to fade away, she surprised herself to miss it. 

Except that Fury had refused to tell her where you were. She tried to ask nicely, to beg, and even to threaten the man, but none of it worked. He said that you needed time, that you’ll be back when you are ready, not before. Despite her frustration, the woman accepted it. After all, she is the one to blame, the one that puts herself in such a situation. She could only hold on to the fact that, one day, you’ll be back. Right? As the days go by, the likelihood of ever seeing you again is gradually diminishing. Some nights, when she can’t sleep, she stays up, eyes fixed on her laptop’s screen — Maybe she could give fate a helping hand? She knows she could find you easily. Yet, despite her urge to do it, she has always ended up closing her laptop without starting the research. 

She has to trust Fury, she repeats to herself. Even if she sometimes disagrees with the man, even if it’s frustrating, she has to believe him when he says that you are safe.

Some other nights, all she can feel is anger, and hatred. The redhead is lost, and scared, again, something she never thought she would feel again the day you two met. What if it was true, and you really cheated on her? Then, you could do it again if she forgives you, because history always repeats itself, and you are no exception to the rules of the universe. She knows how people tend to promise a lot of things that they don’t mean, especially when they are desperate, which is exactly what you’ve been that day. She couldn’t forget the look on your face when she dragged you out of the building, the despair in those bright eyes, glistening with tears. This is the only thing she can remember when she thinks about you. Not the good moments you’ve shared, only the brutality of the end of your relationship. 

You've abandoned her, and so did she.

It has been three since she last saw you, and almost a year since her birthday party, but the woman couldn’t stop thinking about it. She didn’t take the gift, leaving the jewelry in the box, and the box on a shelf. She hasn't touched it since. How could she when just the sight of it was already too much to bear?

Every day, when she wakes up, it is one of the first things she sees, and one of the last when she goes to sleep. If it doesn’t feel right to the woman to take the gift, it doesn’t feel right to throw it in the bin either, so it stayed here as a constant reminder of what she has done. Every time she thinks she is finally over it, the box rekindles her doubts. There are some things she can’t quite understand about the situation, and why you would give her such a gift, two years after she kicked you out, is one of them.

Maybe it was a poisoned gift. Maybe it was a sick trick to make her feel guilty, a way to get her to crawl back to you. Beside these possibilities, she couldn’t think of any others that were likely, and she was afraid to admit that your plan was working. The box was a permanent reminder of your existence, something she couldn’t get herself to give away because of those dumb feelings she was experiencing. Somehow, she was holding on to that last piece of your years together after she threw away everything else with the help of the team.

The pictures, the clothes, the gifts, even your favorite cutlery has been burned a few days after you left them. It is almost as if you’ve never stepped a foot into the building, as if you’ve never existed. The woman was fine with the idea of pretending that nothing happened — She was fine with the idea of erasing every remaining part of your relationship.

Except that black box. It is stupid how she hangs onto that last proof of the relationship she once had with you. She had burned everything, but she couldn’t get herself to do the same with that gift. Maybe because she knew that she could never erase you completely from her life. She surely could pretend, it is a game she is really good at, but you would always be on the back of her mind because memories don't go away as easily as objects do.

Since she had opened the box, doubt had been creeping inside of her — What if? What if she has been wrong the whole time? What if she should have listened to you? Give you a second chance? That day, her reaction had been dictated by anger and hatred, feelings that still inhabit her soul, but have faded over the years. For two years, she had been sure that she made the right choice — At least, that’s what everyone kept telling the woman, and she listened to their comforting words.

But since she opened the box, she was no longer sure of anything. She wasn’t the one that wanted you gone in the first place. She surely needed a bit of space before being able to talk with you properly, but only a few days, maybe a few weeks, not two years, and definitely not more than that. That little box only worsened her doubt because who would be desperate enough to still cling to the person they betrayed, years after the events? A person truly in love. She had kept her doubts for herself before that day. If she is almost sure of the identity of the person who gave her the box, because there is only one person on that planet that cares enough to gift her something so meaningful, there are still a lot of questions to which she doesn’t have the answers — For example, how did you manage to sneak into the building without everyone knowing? She now knows that someone knew the whole time.

“Tell me,” she firmly asked the man, leaving little room for discussion.

No one pointed out the thing he has said about the mascot, the subject of the conversation quickly changed after that. Except, while they were talking about which flavor the cake should be, Natasha could think of nothing but Tony’s words — “She likes you too much to miss your birthday”, “she pretends it’s not true but I know she is lying.” So when everyone eventually decided to go back to their rooms, around two in the morning, she stayed a bit longer in the common room in hope of getting some information.

“Sorryy, I can’t, I don’t know anything,” the man replied, indifferent to her tone, “anything at all,” he repeated, chuckling like a child who has done something wrong. 

The woman sighs, pinching her nose as she takes a deep breath, trying to not lash out her frustration on the man. The conversation isn’t exactly going the way she had hoped, Tony refusing to answer her question no matter how many times she has already asked. She even tried to blackmail him, but he was persistent in pretending that he didn’t know anything. When he almost falls on the ground trying to get a few steps back, it has been the last straw for the woman. Gladly, someone entered the room before she could hit him so hard that it would have sobered him in an instant.

"Is everything okay?" the voice asked, and both of them immediately shut up to turn their heads toward the woman who just entered the room, Astrid. She is leaning in the doorway, her gaze alternating between Tony and Natasha.

She hates her. Not as much as she hates you, but she still feels resentful toward the agent. When she smiles, when she speaks, even when she is just here, existing, the woman can’t help but hate her from the depths of her heart. Gladly, she rarely sees her, as an agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D., she is only around when they have outstanding missions. If Natasha had a choice, she would’ve thrown her away with you that day. 

"She wants me to admit that her girlfriend was the one in the costume," he immediately replied, "but sshht, we can’t let her know that!" he added, holding his index finger in front of his mouth for a few seconds before leaving the room giggling. 

"I know what happened," she eventually said when she noticed that Natasha was about to leave after a few seconds when they glanced at each other in silence. "Th- That night, in the motel room~," she added, her voice being hesitant. Those words made the redhead stop in her tracks.

"If you're about to rub in my face how you've ruined my life, you can shut up," she immediately cut her, not wanting to listen to the woman, not if it’s to tell her about how she fucked the woman she loves. Her voice was full of anger, just like the murderous look in her eyes. The only thing that prevented the woman from immediately leaving the room was the thing she saw in the other’s eyes. Her attitude betrayed her emotions, a mix of guilt, sadness, and shame, which aroused her curiosity. 

With a nod, she ordered her to continue.

That morning, as many others, you are woken up by your girlfriend’s gentle touches, her fingers slowly tracing circles on your stomach. A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips before your turn around, nuzzling your head further into the crook of her neck.

How could you have known it would be the last time? How could you have possibly guessed that the routine you’ve got used to would be broken so quickly?

Every morning, it is the same thing, and while the former spy has no problems getting up early, you definitely can’t say the same for yourself. She is always awake before you are and, even if she had never admitted it, you are sure that she takes a few minutes to observe your sleeping form. She loves seeing you so peaceful and calm, being able to have a glimpse of your face without those worry lines, without the marks of your anxieties. 

She is always the one who wakes you up, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no better way to start a day than Natasha’s sweet words and caresses. It’s her fault if you never want to get out of bed, wishing every morning that you could stay in that bed, next to her, for the rest of your life. Sometimes, you suggest that you tell the others you are sick, just to spend a day together, but she just laughs, dismissing your idea.

But all the good things must come to an end, right?

"It's time to get up, milaya," she softly said in your ear, her breath tickling your skin, "Astrid won't be happy if you are late again," she added when the only answer you gave her was a groan of discontent.

"They won't say anything if I am late once, it's okay", you mumbled, her words not being enough to convince you to leave the comfort of her arms. 

Especially when you realize that there is nothing to get excited about the day ahead of you, in perspective, only hours spent in an office, listening to men who think they know everything better than you do. Today, you are supposed to attend an important meeting alongside Astrid, and you still don’t know why you volunteered. The thought of the paperwork and the efforts that you will have to put in pretending that you are actually happy to be here definitely don’t worth your pay.

Except that you’ve lied to Natasha, and she knows it. This is definitely not the first time that you are being late, it happens almost every day, to the point that the day you are in time can probably be counted on your hands. Gladly, when you are coming in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters, it's Astrid who’s your supervisor, and she appears to also be your best friend. Most of the time, she is kind enough to accept to close her eyes on your delays. Today, you came in only ten minutes late, and the woman was somehow impressed, expecting you to be later than that.

“You’re late, again,” she replied, obviously waiting for an excuse that you don't have. She would know if you are lying to her, and you don't have the energy for that kind of game today, and you could see that the woman neither. She was starting to get tired of every day starting with the same bullshit coming from your mouth.

“I am so, so, sorry,” you said to her for what may be the tenth time since you’ve entered the office. She is walking fast, and you are trying to catch up with the black-haired woman, who is also your superior within the S.H.I.E.L.D. “Please, don’t tell Fury,” you begged, but all she did was roll her eyes, and give you a file when you eventually reached her office. You quickly glanced at it before closing it again, your attention focused on the woman, “Astrid, I am serious. He is going to give me more paperwork if you do. Or worse. Imagine if he forces me to train the new recruits, you know I can’t do that again. Please, …,” you added, looking at her imploringly.

“And what do I have in exchange?” she sighed, turning around to look at you, one eyebrow raised. Despite her serious expression, you know she was trying to not laugh. She may be your boss, but above all she is your friend, and you both know that she would never tell Fury about your delays. Even if she has threatened you to do so a few times in the past, she has never actually done it. Yet, this time she felt like she needed something in exchange, she had covered for you enough time for free, and you were happy to thank your friend with whatever she may want.

“Anything you want!” you replied, desperate but no less honest. 

“Tonight, after work, you pay me a drink, deal?” she asked after pretending to think for a few seconds. In reality, she already knew what she wanted from you. She has thought about asking you out since the moment you met, something you’ve never noticed, always reducing her to the role of a friend, and not keeping up on the clues she was leaving you. Tonight, however, she will be clearer than she has ever been.

“Deal!” you immediately said, accepting the proposal without thinking twice about it. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You are the best," you added, kissing your friend on the cheek before leaving the room quickly, a sight that made the woman chuckle.

It is a deal that makes you both happy. You have met Astrid at the Academy, when you were both trainees that dreamed of joining the S.H.I.E.L.D. without even knowing if you were good enough for that. The two of you quickly became close — That’s the kind of thing that happens where you are the only two females of your promotion. Either you hate each other over your dead bodies, or you grow so close that you become inseparable. 

Except that, since you've both achieved your dreams and joined S.H.I.E.L.D, something changed in your relationship. It wasn’t your fault, nor hers, that you had less time to see each other, your jobs taking a lot of your time and energy. Then you've been assigned on a long-term mission with the Avengers, and you’ve spent less time at the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters despite still working for the organization. Then you've met Natasha, and you feel like you’ve slightly grown apart from each other after you’ve announced to her your new relationship. On the whole, you had less time to spend with your best friend, and the promises to make up for the lost time have never been kept, not until today. That deal was the perfect occasion to spend a bit of time together outside of the office work.

You both really hoped that this night would make things back as they were before.

"You know, I love her," she confessed to the redhead, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she felt tears filling her eyes. "Since the day we met, I have loved her. That's what I told her, that night, when we went out," she admitted, and Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, her hands were shaking with apprehension, “but she rejected me. She loves you so much, too much," she sadly chuckled, but the redhead felt no relief when she heard those words because they were not explaining the pictures. She can't cry, not now, not in front of that woman.

"Continue," she ordered, feeling that the woman had more to say than that. She already knew that Astrid loved you, you may be the only one that hadn't seen it, or maybe you were pretending, or maybe you were blinded by your love for Natasha.

"I didn't plan to do that, you know," she started, carefully looking at the spy, "but I was so desperate that night, and I-," she said, except she was unable to finish her sentence, the words stuck in her throat.

The past three years, she had kept the truth a secret. At first, she thought it was better that way. The woman was ashamed of her actions, and she was relieved when heard that you’ve been transferred to another department, and she thought that her secret would be safe. Except that, if everyone acted as if you’ve never existed, her mind didn’t allow her to forget. Every hour of every day, you were in her mind, and the longer she thought about that night, the biggesther guilt became, until the burden was too heavy to bear. Tonight, hearing them argue about you, has been the last straw.

“What did you do?” she asked, sensing that something was wrong. She didn’t like the feeling that was creeping inside of her, “what. did. you. do.?” she asked once again, but more firmly that time, when the other didn’t immediately answer her question. As she saw the hesitation, she reduced the distance between them in a second, her hand gripping the collar of Astrid’s shirt that she pins to the wall abruptly, “tell me. Now,” she insisted as the interaction only reinforced the bad feeling she had.

That morning, unlike the others, you woke up alone. There haven’t been the gentle caresses of your girlfriend to wake you up, nor her sweet words to coax you into getting up. No, that day, it was only yourself, draped into the cold sheets, and it felt so strange, the silence and the loneliness of the room. Sadly, it has not been the exception you’ve wished it would be, but only the first of too many mornings like that.

In the sleepy state you were in, it took you a few seconds to realize that something was wrong, and almost a minute before you noticed that you weren’t home. You couldn’t even recognize the place you were in, only knowing that it looked like a hotel, a shitty one if you might say. The room was small, simple, and not-so-comfortable. There was something in the ambience that gave you an uneasy feeling about the whole thing, but you were unable to say what it was exactly.

Your head is throbbing, and you are definitely feeling nauseous, but you know that’s not the problem. Your physical distress isn’t the cause of the weight on your chest, the one that makes your breath aching, it’s something else that your mind can’t comprehend yet. It’s all these inconsistencies. The missing memories of last night, the unknown room, the fact that you are alone,... you don’t remember drinking that much last night. You may not be the most responsible person that planet has known, but you know how to handle yourself. Usually. 

Could you have possibly drunk that much? 

The day has barely started, but you already know it is going to be a rough one. If only you knew how right you were, maybe you would have taken a few more hours of sleep, enjoying the comfortable peace of your old life a bit longer before joining the chaos. Yet, you had no means to guess that your day would go that way. 

It's a note left on the bedside table that answered all your questions, easing some of the worries that were creeping inside of you. Someone has written the following words : “Couldn’t get you home because of how drunk you were. don’t worry about being late today, I won’t tell Fury. however, had to go on a mission, be careful when you go home. I left you a bit of money, it should be enough to pay for the room and an Uber. Love you.” The message might not have been signed, but you can easily recognize Astrid’s handwriting. A smile spreads across your lips as you are reassured, the situation not being as bad as your mind made it look.

Some memories of last night flew back in your mind, but it’s only a glimpse of what happened, a lot of the events staying unknown to yourself. The last thing you can remember is the conversation you had with Astrid, when she admitted that she loved you and you replied that you too, thinking she meant as friends because you couldn’t see her any other way, not when you were already engaged in a relationship. The rest of the exchange is confused, and you are not sure what’s real and what has been made up by alcohol. Even today, you are still not sure. 

Maybe you’ve really drunk too much that night.

Knowing that you’ve been with Astrid the whole time was reassuring, and you are no longer as bothered by the absence of memories. For a moment, you thought you'd been kidnapped by some weird man. As you regain your composure, your thoughts become clearer and you decide that the first thing you should do is to send a message to your girlfriend. She must be so worried, and your heart aches at the thought that you might be a source of problem for the woman you love.

It is not your kind to not keep your promises, and you’ve told her you would be home last night. It is not your kind either to not answer her messages or calls. In reality, you are quite the opposite, always sending her hundreds of messages when you are out with your friends. The only reason she hasn’t got after you is because she knew you were with Astrid, and she trusted you. However, the sweet messages are going to have to wait because, when you try to turn your phone on, you only encounter a black screen, a sign that you’ve run out of battery. Obviously, your friend didn’t think to leave you a charger.

You sigh, admitting your defeat. Shaking your phone surely won’t change the situation. For the moment, there is nothing more you can do, except hoping that Natasha won’t be too angry. As you are getting ready, your mind is focused on how to earn the redhead’s forgiveness — Maybe you could stop to buy her some flowers? You hate it, when the two of you are arguing. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s never pretty, and the mere thought that it might happen was already hurting.

As you definitely couldn’t go back to the compound by yourself, not knowing how far you were and being in a pitiful state, you decided to use the money left by Astrid to call a cab, as she instructed you to do. It’s not before you enter the car that you realize how late you actually were. It is almost one in the afternoon, and if you are not an early riser, like your girlfriend who is always up by six at the latest, you rarely get up after ten.

It has been a thirty minutes drive back to the compound, and the whole time you were thinking about two things: taking a shower, and leaning into your girlfriends’ arms. You are so exhausted, physically and mentally, that you’ve decided to skip work today — You were already so late that it wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. The journey was long, and those thirty minutes felt like hours. 

Soon enough, you started to suffocate into your own mind, then skin. You felt so sweaty, and dirty, that it quickly became unbearable. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol, or maybe because you’ve slept in a seedy motel, but the only thing you wanted was to get rid of the clothes you were wearing and the uncomfortable state you were in as soon as possible.

When you enter the compound, you find it empty, and so is the room you are sharing with the woman. If you frown, you don’t think much about it. If the building is rarely empty, it sometimes happens when emergencies are called. A whine escapes your lips as you realize that, if it’s true, they are going to be mad at you for not being here when they needed it. You can already feel your mind losing itself to self-hatred thoughts, as you mutter to yourself how stupid you are. You are going to need more than a few flowers to earn their forgiveness. The fact that JARVIS confirmed that everyone was at the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quarters didn’t, you would have preferred to hear that they went to the restaurant without you rather than that.

Tears brimming your eyes, you quickly put your phone to charge. It is only when you get out of the shower, twenty minutes later, that you saw the missed calls and messages from Natasha. The most recent ones were sent a few minutes ago. There were too many of them for you to take time to read everything so you just sent her a quick text that said: “sorry, my battery was dead, and I couldn’t answer your calls. I’ll explain everything, I promise. see you soon. love you.” A message she saw but she didn’t answer, which is unusual and an obvious hint of how angry she probably is.

Despite your decision to not work today, you still end up in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters. You are almost running in the corridors, going to the meeting room where you find your girlfriend, and the rest of the Avengers. When you stumble into the room, a deadly silence descends. None of them greeted you, and the only reaction you got was Fury’s nod when you started mumbling excuses for your late arrival. While your eyes immediately landed on the redhead, she didn’t glance at you once of the entire meeting. The sight made your heart sink. You love her, but you have to admit that the spy is scary when she has that stern expression on her face, one that leaves no room for discussion.

The safest decision was to sit on the furthest chair, leaving her space until you get the opportunity to explain yourself. Something that you hadn't had a chance to do before a few more hours, when you stumbled into her in the corridors. You have been lost in your mind, having a hard time focusing on your work. Earlier, when the meeting ended, she immediately left the room, not leaving you a chance to exchange a word with her, and it has been bugging you since.

“Please, wait,” you said, already begging the woman. When she heard your voice, she stopped, allowing you to gently grab at her arm so she didn't go. She could, if she wanted to, and a part of her did want to run away, but the rest of her knows that this conversation can’t be avoided. “Listen, I- I am sorry,” you started once you were sure she was willing to listen to your excuses, “I should have warned you, but I couldn’t, my phone’s battery was dead and, and- honestly? I don't remember much of what happened last night. All I know is that once was enough. It won't happen again,” you chuckled sadly. When you woke up that morning, you promised to yourself that it was the last time you drank that much. A promise you kept, and three years later, you still haven’t touched a bottle of alcohol. “I promise, 'tasha. Please, don't be mad at me for that, or at least tell me how I can make up for my mistake,” you said, and the woman knew she had heard enough.

“Seriously?” she scoffed, breaking free of your grip. “I can’t believe you are that stupid,” she said, as she started to walk away. But if she didn’t want to hear the sound of your voice any more, you, however, weren’t done yet.

"I know I’ve made a mistake, but I am fine, isn’t it the most important?” you asked, starting to follow. Except that, when she heard your steps in her back, she accelerated her pace. “I promise to be more careful next time but, you know, I can handle myself for one night. Well, I might have drunk a bit too much, but Astrid was wi~,” you tried to explain, except she cut short your ramblings. To say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the woman quickly cut you. She scoffed again, in disbelief this time.

"You are really stupid, aren't you?” she said, stopping in her tracks, and you almost ran into her, surprised by her sudden stop. A few more seconds passed before she turned around to face you, her posture matching her stern expression. “Do you think I don't know what happened last night, with Astrid? Do you really think I wouldn’t have known the truth?” she added, taking a step forward for every question she asked, and you took one back every time, until your back hit the walls. You would certainly have found the situation hot if she didn’t look like she was about to murder you.

“W- what?” you said, “you are mad because I went out with a friend. That’s the problem? Astrid is the problem?" you snapped, starting to feel frustrated about the whole situation. 

You are tired, and the only thing you’ve wanted to do since you opened your eyes that morning — Throwing yourself in your girlfriend’s arms — was impossible to do. You hadn’t expected the woman to give you such a hard time. You knew she could be jealous sometimes, you’ve already had arguments about that in the past, but you’ve always been understanding because you know that her jealousy isn’t caused by a lack of trust. This feeling is fuelled by her own insecurities and past. Except that, that time, it was too much. The way she wouldn't listen to your excuses is seriously hitting on your nerves.

"Don't you dare to lie to me,” she said. For a moment, you thought she was going to hit you, but she took a step back before she could do that. She was angry too, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ease the feeling. “I trusted you,” she eventually added but her tone was different — The anger left her voice, replaced by pain. “I trusted you and, most importantly, I loved you,” she whispered, turning around to see you one last time. “After everything I have done for you, I can't believe that's how you are thanking me. You know, I really thought you were different, better," she laughed, trying very hard to not throw you against the walls or worse, to cry. The most insufferable was the look in your eyes, the false innocence. She was tired of pretending, she had given you enough chances to tell her the truth, “but you’re not,” but now, she was done trying.

That is the last time the two of you talked. The next time you’ve seen her, she hasn’t been kind enough to let you have a chance to explain things. She was done trying, and so were you. The last words she said are still ringing in your head, even years later. Maybe if you'd chased her once again that day, things would have ended differently, but you haven’t moved. You couldn’t, petrified by the conversation that just took place, you have just watched the redhead walking away without glancing back.

It’s only when you enter the break room that you understand the whole conversation you had with Natasha. No one was here, but the walls had been covered with pictures of yourself. At first, you thought it was a prank from your teammates’ but the pictures were all but innocent. You felt your heart sink when you took down one of the photos to get a closer look at it, and tears in your eyes when you realized that you were nude in those.

It was you, in bed, with Astrid. Your face doesn’t entirely show but you can easily recognize yourself and the bed you’ve woken up in that morning. There were dozens of different pictures, but all showed similar scenes: your bodies against each other as you are obviously sharing an intimate moment. Something that you should only share with one person on that Earth. A person that is definitely not Astrid. 

Except that the more you look at those pictures, the more foreign they feel. You are sure you are the one in the pictures, but you are still unable to remember what happened. Slowly, doubt creeps into your heart — Did you drink that much last night? 

So much that you betrayed the woman you swore to love until the sun dies? 

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a bunch of emotions that you can’t describe, but that are definitely not pleasant. It is a mix of confusion, anger, guilt, and disgust. The pictures speak for themselves, and they leave little room for doubt about what you were doing — And you were surely not just sleeping. The woman was on top of you, her mouth closed to your neck, maybe she was leaving soft kisses against your skin, maybe she was whispering sweet things in your ears, you don’t know. But the thing you were focused on was her hand hidden by the sheets, leaving only your imagination to complete the scene. It wasn’t the only picture of that kind: they were all picturing similar scenes. You can easily understand her rage and hatred earlier because you are now sharing those feelings with your girlfriend, just for different reasons.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" a voice said, pulling out of your mind. It was Astrid, who just entered the room. She glanced around before looking back at you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she notices the tears that are soaking your face. and you saw Astrid entering the room. She looks around, a sorry look on her face. "I am sorry,” she started, and you could feel she was looking for the right thing to say, “I- I sent the pictures to the wrong person. When I realized, I tried to explain to Romanoff but, well… you know how she is,” she explained, shrugging as if she was trying to make you believe she had actually tried to, “she wouldn't listen to me, and they- they did that before I could stop them. It doesn’t please me either," she added, reminding you that you weren’t the only one suffering from the situation. Except she seemed to deal with the situation better than you do. As she talked, she slowly walked closer to you, accompanying each of her sentences with a few steps forward until she was close enough to wrap you in her arms. 

You didn’t get the energy to push her away.

"Did we.. ?" you asked, but your voice broke before you could finish your sentence. It felt too difficult to say those words out loud — “Did we hook up? Did I cheat on Natasha?” But the woman doesn’t need the words to be said, she seems to read in your mind the end of your sentence.

"Of course we did, what kind of question is that?" she replied, frowning. She seems to be surprised by your question. For a second, the hand that was slowly caressing the back of your head stopped. The woman pulled back a little, just so she could see your face. "Why? Do you regret it?" she asked, and for an instant she seemed to be genuinely worried about your reaction, "because you didn't seem to last night, when you cried my name,..." she whispered in your ear. You could feel her breath tickling your skin but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, unlike when Natasha does it.

Everything felt so much. Her voice, her touch, her presence so close to you, was now unbearable. As she remembers the night you’ve spent, a soft smirk spreads on her lips, but you are definitely not sharing her feelings. “Of course we did.” The words loop back into your mind, it seeps in like a poison that quickly takes over your whole being. Soon, you are paralyzed by an awful feeling. It hurts, but at the same time you are not sure you are actually feeling something, your body and mind feeling so foreign to you — If you wanted it, why does it feel so wrong?

At that moment, if you had been able to move, you would have ripped your ears off just so you wouldn’t hear her voice any more, and maybe you would have done the same with your skin. It felt like the only way to get rid of your overwhelming feelings. Suddenly, the reassuring touch of your best friend made you feel gross, and so do her sweet words — But if she said that you did it, and wanted it, then it must be true, right?

You have seen the pictures, they are in your hands, right under your eyes. You can see yourself betraying the woman you love and in those, you really don't give the impression that you didn’t want to. On the contrary.

"No, no, it- it's not that, it’s just…," you eventually managed to say, but you are hesitating and unsure of yourself. There are too many thoughts and words clouding your head, so many ways you could react and yet, none of what you could say or do felt right. "It’s just that I don’t even remember last night,” you admitted, feeling ashamed about it, “I mean, did we- you know,... for real?" you asked softly but you were not even listening to Astrid’s answer, the question was more for yourself in reality. "Sorry, I have to go, see you later", you said, interrupting the woman. Somehow, you regained control over your body, just enough to push the other away and leave the room. You are not sure where you are going, but as far from that room as you can is already a good start.

That's where she found you when she came home that night, sitting on the bathroom's floor, the pictures in your hands.

Your hand is still wrapped tightly around the pictures, but you didn’t notice it. Not before being back home, in the room you are sharing with Natasha — Or were sharing, you thought, unsure about how the situation would unfold. It may be the last time you set a foot in that room that has been your safe place for months. Before you could completely break down, you decided to take a shower, thinking that, maybe, the steaming water would be enough to ease your mind. You took two showers. Then three, then four, and maybe more. You can’t be sure, you’ve stopped counting. All you knew was that it hasn’t been enough to get rid of the uneasy feelings and thoughts. You’ve scrubbed yourself until your skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the towel has been painful — But maybe you deserved it.

The rest of the day is a blur, and you are not sure what time it is. You’ve spent hours on the bathroom’s floor, your left hand clenched around the picture while the right one was holding the towel. Your head was so empty, but so full at the same time. That’s how she found you when she came home that night, and if she had been tempted to wrap you in her arms when she saw your pitiful state, the conversation she just had with the others discouraged her to do so — You didn’t deserve her pity. They are right when they say that you are not the victim: you are the one that cheated on her, and she needs to be firm, stern. You knew how hard it is for the woman to trust someone and yet, you still broke the fate she had put in you after years of making her dream of a better future.

"Oh, so you remember now?" she coldly said to you when she entered the room. You didn’t move, not even your eyes to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that the woman was leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. Maybe you would have also seen that her coldness was only a facade, and that she was as close as you were from breaking down. 

You stayed silent, unable to say anything. The words were stuck in your clenched throat, and they aren’t feeling right anyway — How could you defend yourself when you didn't even know what happened exactly? Plus, you weren’t even sure there was something to defend, the pictures speaking for themselves. Even when she started packing your belongings, you didn’t move. For you to move, she had to grab your arm and drag you all the way outside the Avengers’s building by herself. 

She needed you gone, and everyone agreed that it was only for the best. At least for a few weeks, just the time for things to calm down. That’s what she came to announce. The few words that left your mouth were useless, your pleas falling in deaf ears: the decision had already been made, and the sentence was irrevocable. The woman is done with your bullshit. She is done with you, and so you are.

"The pictures, they- they aren't real," she eventually admitted, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she unburdens herself of this old secret. “I mean, th- they are, but it’s a staging. Nothing happened between us, she- hm, loves you too much to give you away,” she continued, tears filling her eyes as she talks, her voice wavering a little more with each word. "She isn't even conscious in these," she continued when the spy didn’t react. If the black-haired woman thought it was because the other was listening, it was because she didn’t know how to react.

The weight of what she had done left her shoulder, and it was now lingering in the room, where the air was suddenly thick, and almost unbreathable. Natasha felt a weight in her chest that made each breath harder than the previous one. Overcome by surprise, she had let go of the other, stepping back a few steps. Her thoughts were racing, numerous and contradictory, they weren’t coherent enough to allow how to respond in any way. She needed to do something, but she didn’t know what.

“I- I don’t know why I did that. It wasn’t me, that night, you know that, right? That I would usually never ever do something like that,” she started to defend herself when she saw the look on Natasha’s face, “I was so angry, and disappointed, when she refused. I have given her everything since we met, and yet you are the one she chose. I thought that, maybe, with a bit of time she would eventually realize her mistake, … but I was so wrong,” she sighed, and the redhead could see the remnants of that anger in her attitude. A clenching jaw and fists, accompanied with firm words that left no doubt about the resentment she held towards her, and towards you. “That night, I- I wasn’t myself. We’ve already had a few drinks and, you know, it doesn’t mix well with emotions,” she continued, and the woman could feel her anger rising with every word the other spoke. “All I could think about was getting revenge. I wanted to show her she was wrong, that I had so much more to offer than she thought. I wanted her to change her mind, to see me for more than just a friend,” she admitted, her voice being just a whisper as she says the last sentence. “I never thought it would end this way, I swear, you’ve to believe me, Natasha,” and to forgive me. She didn’t say the last words out loud, but she doesn’t need to, her eyes are speaking for herself.

Only, when her gaze met the redhead’s, she didn’t see in her eyes the compassion she had been expecting, only pure hatred, an emotion that had quickly replaced the initial surprise. Not even a word was addressed to her as the other left the room, leaving her alone to dry her tears.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

| Taglist — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

[ziocio]

Something About Those Left Behind.

Maybe each of them has a part of you after all, Mephone4. . .

ANALYSIS/THEORY RAMBLE IN READ MORE !!

Perhaps I'm going insane and it's the 4/5 am speaking but...

Each of them represent Mephone4 in a way. That's why they're the ones he left behind. This is why theyre the finale 4. This is why Taco is also here. This is important.

Baseball

He's more so a follower than a leader. Which is easy to say Mephone4 was a follower to Cobs.

He did what Nickel thought was best, even though Baseball even doubted the suggestions. Nickel always talked down to Baseball's opinion, and even used Baseball against himself at times. He needed Nickel.

Nickel wasnt the leader, yet Baseball was following his every word.

Mephone4 created the show, but Adam... Steve Cobs was always pulling some strings here and there.

Eventually, when Nickel was eliminated he felt so so lost. He had no direction, no where to go.

Mephone4 had no direction at first himself when he learned who Cobs truly was. He felt betrayed by the one who was closest to him. Hurt. So he fled.

They're both running away from the issue. The home they made. Certain people they should've cared more for and listened to. (Suitcase/Toilet)

Baseball is also the part that wants to get serious from what he fled from.. from what he lost... but could never really confront the problem until it's brought up to his face.

Similiar to Mephone4! But he took copium in a different route. Which leads to-

Lightbulb

LIGHTBULBBB... Ughhhhh!!!

She is all of Mephone4's suppression.

Focus on fun! Games !! Whimsy, silly!!

Distractions.. Lightbulb was sad and alone on the inside.. but on the outside, she is cheery and happy!! Nothing can dull this bright light! She's not even transparent !!

This can also apply to Mephone4. He runs this show to escape his problems, to have an escape from his worries and fears. Lightbulb symbolizes his anxieties by completely ignoring her own.

But that shell started to break once all of Lightbulb's companions were eliminated from the game. She was alone and disheartened. Her emotional support, gone. The lightheartedness was still there, but was breaking. All the pressure weighing on her shoulders, the pressure of being responsible. The pressure of doing good to her team!...

Similiar to the pressure of needing to be perfect. Generate this perfect, do this task right. Isn't it, Mephone4? The need to satisfy.

When she finally gets her crew back, she lights up again. Mephone4 needs this fake reality, because like Lightbulb with the Bright Lights, the contestants are his light too.

When Lightbulb comes face to face with MephoneX, she sees Paintbrush before the end, supporting her. Trying to help.

She accepts her defeat, her end, with a smile.

Mephone4 didn't have any support. He accepts his defeat with a frown. If he had a light at that moment, perhaps he would've been more confident.

Suitcase

Suitcase, out of all the others, is the only newbie left in the competition. She's been around the least amount of time.. she's new.

She's alone.

Sure she met Nickel, Baseball and Balloon, but as the final four, she doesn't trust Baseball anymore. Nickel and Balloon got voted out.

She refused to bring Baseball into the final two due to the issues of leadership and trust. Knife gave her trust and friendship, what true alliances could be.

Mephone4 trusted Floor in season 3. What partnership done right can provide you if the two parties actually accept one another. And are honest.

Other than this.. Suitcase focuses on the false parts of reality over reality itself since she can't figure out what's real or fake.. This can relate to Mephone4 struggling to let the show go.. this is his life, he doesn't want to leave it. Everyone here feels real yet he didn't realize til later that it's all fake.

One last thing relating to the two.. they're outside the comfort zone.

Suitcase is the one season 2 debuter that was left over. Mephone4 was the most unique out of all other Mephone products. They're a needle in a haystack.

Knife

Knife is a bit more hard to crack on how he relates as I dont have as much thought on him.. but here's some thoughts...

Knife overall is a tough guy. He focuses on reality more than fiction. He's a contrast to Suitcase, who struggles to piece what's real and fake.

In relation to Mephone4, Knife can act a bit smug. Mainly when it comes to his teasing with Taco in S2E15, it gave some kinda Mephone4 charm of messing with people.

He cares for people despite his fronting jerk attitude, being accepting and even providing advice.

The best trait Knife can be given is his major growth from who he once was. He was always a soft hearted guy, but he slowly learned to show that more often to the outside.

As for Mephone4.. he's also attempting this. It's just much harder for him.

Mephone4 has the constant show/host persona up, yet it is shown the contestants mean alot to him.. more than they could ever possible understand.

Like Knife, Mephone4 learned how to express himself just a little bit more..

Taco

Taco. Taco Taco Taco.

It's easy to pick up what she's about..

Betrayal. Wanting to leave it all behind. Staging an act. A front. Manipulation.

So much of this can relate to Mephone4 and his history.

Taco is all of Mephone4's guilt, thoughts, trauma and etc jumbled into one messy taco oc.

Taco put up an act, Mephone4 puts up an act.

Taco went into hiding, Mephone4 went into hiding.

Taco is British, Mephone4 is- uh... no he's not British. Why is Taco Britis-

Back to the point.

Taco is the most in depth character out of them all. Her whole story line can be pieced and compared to Mephone4's, at least in theming.

It all starts in season 1, where she's different from the rest of the cast. She's zany, wacky. But she also has smart moments. The finale of season 1 showed she fooled them all, planned this from the beginning.

In a way, this here can relate to Steve Cobs. Mephone4 maybe felt like he was being played the fool. He thought Cobs of what appeared like a father figure.. someone he could have fun and joy with. Later down the line, Mephone4 realizes Cobs wasn't what he pictured him to be. Which was a cruel person who harms others for his benefit. (Mephone3gs)

Taco also harms people for her own benefit. She betrays Pickle, manipulates Microphone, is a thief, kills Test Tube, and practically offers weapons at any given notice.

An innocent object who actually wasn't a friend at all. Someone who betrays others.

But unlike Cobs, Taco is much more than that.

Alongside Mephone4's betrayal of Cobs' true motives, Taco also fits Mephone4's overall rebellious actions against Cobs.

If Mephone4 ever chose to rebel that is. Mephone4 ran away, but Taco strikes back. She's probably what Mephone4 wished he could've done. Take action.

The moment Taco noticed Microphone leave the game.. she goes to convince EVERYONE to leave the game.

What if this was also a parallel to Meeple?...

What if Mephone4 truly wanted to help everyone there.. but he just couldn't.

In the end, the thought of Pickle finding Taco broke her down. The one who she hurt.. finding her here.

Mephone4 breaks down at the thought of everyone finding out. At the thought of Cobs finding him.

In the end.. each character Mephone4 froze in time and left behind...

Were him.

He was overall... running from himself. Not just Cobs.

Himself.

His story. His life.

Things outside of this show.

The two leaders. The two sides of positivity and negativity.

The two finalists. The borders of reality and fiction.

Taco. The outcast and desire of needing a change.

They're all for you, Mephone4.

[oatmilk-vampire]

Birthday Blues

Read part 2 here.

Steve hates his birthday.

He knows he may not be the only one who gets "birthday blues" but he feels like it's a lot deeper than just the blues.

When he got closer with Eddie and learned of his own shitty upbringing, he thought it'd be a bonding moment for them. Eddie has to hate his birthday too, right?

Wrong.

Despite Eddie’s mom dying when he was only six, and Eddie’s dad being a deadbeat, leaving Eddie on his own before Uncle Wayne took him in, Eddie loved his birthday.

The Munsons may not have been rich but Wayne always did his best to provide Eddie with new(er) clothes, or dice, or guitar picks. A new album or poster for his bedroom walls. Maybe even his favorite food at the diner--something they didn't do often as they usually survived on box cereal and spaghetti-Os.

And when Al Munson finally rolled into town conveniently around his only child's birthday, well he'd give the sort of shitty, low-commitment gift only a father could give.

And Eddie looked forward to it all the same. One or two shitty presents in six years is better than none when it comes to his father. He'd take what he could get.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes and goes and Steve gets invited to his and Wayne's get together with the kids, and then a later party with the members of Corroded Coffin--well of course Steve goes. And he showers Eddie with love and meaningful but still kinda pricey presents, because he can. And he wants to. Despite the merciless teasing he endures. The look on Eddie's face makes Steve feel like he's the one that got the greatest gift of all.

This, of course, all falls apart when Eddie points out Steve's own birthday must be coming up, and he's right. And because he has no tact he announces in front of everyone who realizes in horror that they've gone years of knowing Steve and celebrating his birthday exactly zero times.

Steve's equally horrified now because now everyone is tripping over their feet desperately trying to make it up to him with cakes and ice cream and movies and handmade cards and weird action figures Eddie probably would have liked better.

It's only after Steve gracelessly accepts all of their gift-giving, and fends off at least three panic attacks and two migraines that he has to put on his bitch voice and scream that the only thing he wants for his birthday is to be left alone.

And like usual, the kids do not listen.

Until Eddie steps in. He makes them go, Robin too, even if she is pissed about it. But they go when Eddie assures them that Steve probably just feels a little overwhelmed right now and needs some space.

He's close to leaving too, knowing he may have made a mistake and should probably get out of his hair... But then Steve starts crying and Eddie has to stay.

It's not loud or ugly, just these little, tiny pitiful things like Steve is trying his damnest to not cry. Like the act of tears falling would kill him.

Eddie cautiously slides next to his shaking form on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much.

He bites his lip as he experiments with placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve tenses under his touch until Eddie speaks,

"Stevie, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. None of us did."

His parents were hardly around. Never gave him practical toys he wanted, just whatever they thought a boy should have to shape him into a "proper young man", if they thought he needed toys at all. No parties. Ever. He briefly wanted to throw ragers when he realized he was old enough and his parents wouldn't be home, they never were, but those made him feel even worse so he got used to spending the day like any other. All alone in a big, empty house. Not a home.

Eddie continues to rub soothing circles into Steve's back as he lets it all out, explaining his woes as best he can through a sore throat and runny nose. Eventually he pulls Steve into a proper hug-turned-cuddle until his breathing steadies and he isn't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry." Eddie holds his breath, hoping it doesn’t trigger another panic attack.

"No--don’t be. Thank you."

"For what? Making you cry?"

"For caring enough to bring it up, even if it was a lot. But mostly for being here, after. Just..."

Steve didn't have to finish his sentence. Eddie knew what he was trying to say.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for loving me.

"Always, Stevie. I'll always be here for you."

Steve squeezes him, and Eddie squeezes back once, twice.

He doesn't say it, but Steve understands.

Happy Birthday... I love you.

[missvelvetsstuff]

No Benefits

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Sharon Carter

Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

I try to keep my Reader description vague but she's a she and above average height

Here goes nothing

Chapter 1

Warnings: Swearing, mostly angst, eventual happy ending.

Y/N, or Cookie to her friends, was at her desk, trying to finish her report so she could leave work early for one of Tony Stark's parties. This wasn't her first time but tonight her bff and mostly secret crush, Bucky Barnes, was escorting her. It wasn't the first time for that either but tonight felt different. Usually they met at the elevator but when they spoke earlier he said he would pick her up at her room. They had been getting closer in the last few months and even Steve and Sam had commented about Bucky's behavior towards her.

The night was everything she had dreamed, Bucky was attentive and always had his hands on her, respectfully of course but more intimate than he usually was. They danced much of the night and when slow songs came on he pulled her close and she could feel his breath on her neck, causing chills.

Towards the end of the night, Bucky pulled her to the elevator and kissed her until they reached his floor. They were in his room, her dress gone before she could think twice, not that she would have.

She could taste the Asgardian ale on his breath, blending with the tequila on hers. Everything was a blur of flesh and feelings she had never experienced before. She couldn't get enough, neither could he.

Y/N opened her eyes to bright light and a bedroom that wasn't hers. The pounding in her head a reminder of how much she drank last night. She looked around and realized it was Bucky's room, where she spent so much of her time. Suddenly, she realized that she was naked and her stomach dropped. She had hazy memories of shots and kisses that turned into more. The kiss in the elevator. She smiled even though her head hurt, she had been crushing on Bucky since the day they met and was amazed that he actually wanted her too.

Cookie wasn't your typical beauty, taller than most girls and with more curves than your typical agent. Of course, she wasn't a field agent but was the lead intelligence analyst on the east coast reporting directly to Maria Hill.

She reached over to find his side of the bed was cool but figured he must have gone on his morning run with Steve and Sam. She sat up and saw a bottle of water next to some pain killers, which she downed, grateful that Bucky was so thoughtful. Drinking the entire bottle of water she realized she really needed to pee. Standing slowly so as not to irritate her headache she grabbed one of Bucky's t-shirts to cover herself and went to relieve herself. When she was done she went back to sit up in bed and check her emails for today's agenda.

When she was responding to a message from Maria Hill the suite door opened and Bucky came in, sweaty and gorgeous. He saw her curled up on his bed and smiling up at him.

"Morning Buck. Good run?"

He nodded and smirked "Yeah, Sam whined at us to wait up but we just lapped him until he shut up"

"Sounds fun. Since it's Sunday and nothing is scheduled, why don't you take a shower and come back to bed?"

Bucky felt his heart stop "Look doll about last night. You know you're one of my best friends and I love you but I don't feel comfortable getting into a real relationship right now. I still have so much work to do on myself. Last night was great and I was thinking we could have one of those friends with extras, or whatever it's called. You know, to blow off steam."

Her stomach dropped and she felt her eyes filling up "You mean friends with benefits?"

He nodded enthusiastically "Yeah, that's it." he smiled hopefully.

Y/N was quiet for a minute before responding, was it worth the almost guaranteed heartbreak to have more nights like last night? She shook her head, unwilling to take that risk again.

"I'm sorry Buck but I can't do that. I get attached and end up heartbroken. I can't sleep with people that I don't have romantic feelings for."

His eyes grew wide "Wait, that means you have feelings...." He trailed off.

She nodded whispering "Yeah, I do."

Bucky's face dropped "Shit, Cookie, I'm sorry. I thought we were on the same page last night. I don't know what to say. I mean, I might develop feelings over time but I don't know. I don't want to make any promises, you know?"

She swallowed the sob that tried to escape "You don't have to say anything, we can just pretend this never happened. Ok?"

She got up from the bed, clutching the sheet to her and desperately searching for her dress from last night. When she found it she quickly put it on not realizing it was inside out.

He nodded but wasn't feeling too sure of that, he could hear her heart speed up and see her hands shaking "Yeah, sure, nothing has to change."

She smiled at him sadly, tears escaping "I uh I just remembered some paperwork I needed to finish up. I'll catch you later."

"Wait doll. I-"

"Don't worry it's fine." She cleared her throat "I could use a little space and just have work to do." She kissed him on the cheek before rushing out.

Bucky stood there, not sure how to proceed. He didn't want to lose his friend but really didn't feel like he could handle a relationship now. The stress relief from the great sex they had was something he could handle and he did have feelings for her, since the day he arrived at the compound but he knew she deserved a better man than him.

**Flashback**

Y/N was in her office reviewing some reports to glean even the smallest details before they went to the appropriate briefing packets that the field agents would use to form their strategy, when she received a text from Captain America himself, requesting her presence in the common area.

She put away all of the classified info on her desk, locked it and locked the door on her way out. She took the elevator which opened into the common area and was surprised to see a large group of agents already there.

She heard Steve shout her name "Cookie! Over here." and saw his hand waving so headed in his direction.

Steve gave her a hug and pulled away excitedly "Look Cookie, it's my friend, Bucky."

Cookie smiled and offered her hand. When Bucky looked at her she felt her breath catch, holy shit was he gorgeous, way hotter than the pictures in his file "Pleased to meetcha Sargent Barnes"

Both of them felt sparks when they touched but Bucky responded like she had burned him pulling away quickly. Cookie's smile dropped for a second before she forced it back.

Bucky looked at her through his long hair "You too, ma'am."

She could see how he was shrinking into himself, trying to look smaller so she stepped back to give him space.

Steve looked at them both oddly but smiled softly when he heard how fast her heart was beating and the slight blush on Bucky's face. That was a look he remembered from so many years ago, when Bucky met Dot.

**end flashback**

The next few weeks were tense, Y/N and Bucky barely spoke outside of Avengers business. He was always busy, rushing to train or something every time she tried to talk to him. The guilt on his face showed everything, he hated that he hurt her but missed their time together. As soon as he saw her look at him longingly, before she realized he was looking and wiped that look from her face, he had to leave. He hated himself because he knew it hurt her more every time he avoided her but he just couldn't handle seeing her and being reminded of the pain he caused.

There were other, senior agents being trained by Steve, with Bucky and Sam, to prepare for an upcoming mission. Sifting through all the related Intel was keeping Y/N up at night and her haggard appearance had been noticed by most of the team.

They had a meeting to start going over the Intel to plan their strategy. On her way in, Y/N ran into Sharon Carter who she had worked with previously.

"Hey Agent Carter, good to see you."

Sharon laughed softly "Please, Y/N, we've worked together enough for you to call me Sharon."

Y/N laughed awkwardly "Um yeah, Sharon. So how have you been? Any luck finding the power broker?"

Sharon shook her head obviously frustrated "No, he's crafty for sure but we'll get him. Rumor is this mission relates to him."

Y/N nodded, "yeah, all of the serious crime in eastern Europe seem to lead back to him." She looked up and saw Nick Fury striding towards them and straightened her shoulders "Director Fury."

He nodded at her "Agent Y/L/N. Carter. Why don't we get this started, Cookie." He looked down at the container on top of her papers.

Y/N went to the front of the room to sit next to Fury's spot at the head of the table, setting the container in his place. She saw that Sharon sat next to Bucky and started talking to him, touching his right arm and laughing softly. Y/N saw Bucky smiling and felt her chest ache, her stomach cramp up and her throat dried since apparently all the water went to her eyes. She sat down and Sam, the only one who knew what happened with her and Bucky, gave her a sad smile and squeezed her hand.

They held hands through the entire meeting, Bucky and Sharon touching hands under the table. He never liked people touching him except for Y/N but apparently he made an exception for Sharon because he just sat smiling. He never even looked towards Y/N.

When the meeting ended, Bucky and Sharon were the first ones out the door as he quickly led her to his room.

Y/N could barely breathe and rushed to her own room, glad it was on a different floor from Bucky's because she didn't think she could handle hearing him and Sharon go at it.

For the next couple of months it went like that. Bucky and Sharon spending most of their time in his room and Y/N trying to stay busy so she didn't think about it. They were hands off outside of his room and insisted they were just friends when Sam mentioned they were always together. Bucky heard Sam grumble about how Y/N used to be the one he wanted to hang out with, but blew it off. Nothing wrong with having a couple of friends. And Y/N didn't want a casual relationship while Sharon was down for everything and was teaching Bucky a lot.

Sharon was friendly with Cookie in the beginning but started being nasty to Y/N, calling her names and throwing out barely veiled insults when Bucky wasn't around, and did everything she could to keep them apart. Not that Bucky ever seemed to notice, too wrapped up in the constant sex to see much else. Even at team functions Sharon worked to keep her away from Bucky, so much that Y/N just avoided the both of them when at all possible.

Y/N was depressed and missing her friend. She had lost weight and had dark circles under her eyes which she claimed were from working all hours. Time wasn't helping at all, she still had dreams about that night and felt an ache in her chest every time she saw Bucky. A couple of times he tried to talk to her, invite her for the movies nites that she never attended anymore but Sharon always started whining for him and Y/N took the hint and made excuses that she had paperwork or needed sleep, anything to avoid them.

Bucky, Sam and Sharon were offsite for a few days so Y/N could pour herself into work and not worry about running into them.

Late one night she was talking to one of her informants in Latvia and the connection was weak. She claimed to have the details on the Power Broker but static kept interfering with the connection.

Y/N heard banging

"Marta?! Marta are you ok? What's going on?"

There was more banging and a clicking noise then she heard Marta crying and begging.

A muffled womans voice came on the line "You better back off of the Power Broker or you will regret it"

Y/N was pissed "Who the Hell is this? Where's Marta? What did-" she heard a gunshot and the crying stopped.

The voice chuckled "She's unavailable and if you don't wise up, you will be too."

The call disconnected.

Y/N had tears in her eyes. She had met Marta a few years back, she had kids, a family. Now Y/N took that weight and swore to whoever was listening that she would make sure the Power Broker paid for this on top of all the other death and destruction.

Y/N refused to stop and eventually passed out on her laptop. She woke to a loud knocking "Y/N you in there? Fury got a package and wants you in his office 20 minutes ago."

Y/N sighed, Maria Hill. "I'll be down asap."

15 minutes later she was out of breath on her way into his office. "Cookie, there you are. I don't know who sent this but both of our names were on it so I'm hoping you know what's up."

Y/N looked over the package, Latvian stamp no return address. She sighed "Looks like it's from one of my informants in Latvia. I was on the phone with her last nite when she was shot. And a distorted womans voice told me to back off of the Power Broker or I'd be next."

Fury nodded "Alright well let's see what she had."

Y/N carefully opened the package which included a large white envelope that felt like it was full of pictures and a zip lock with a post-it that said 'fingerprints'.

Fury called an intern in to take the prints for processing as Y/N pulled out a stack of pictures. Her jaw dropped as her heart sped up and she began to shake. There was one thing the pictures all had in common......

Sharon fucking Carter.

Chapter 2

[steviewashere]

I am itching to write a frat boy Steve Harrington fic. Definitely modern day, no upside down, no supernatural elements. But not one where he desperately wants to leave it or he's being shunned by the other guys or where he feels like he doesn't fit in. Just one where he does stupid shit because it's funny to him.

He's got an estranged relationship with Tommy Hagan, another one of the frat boys. But they both ignite at the opportunity to get drunk, challenge each other to stupid bets (with no real reward), and party with people. Tommy's kind of a dick, but mostly a class clown kind of guy—doesn't do a whole lot of bullying, maybe some friendly teasing that sometimes goes a little too far (because he sucks at gauging his limit).

Steve's a reformed bully. He's learning to just sort of go with the flow, which is aided a lot by being loose and free and goofy and out-of-his-mind stupid at frat parties. He wants to meet as many different people as possible, maybe not become friends with all of them, but he wants to at least broaden his horizons.

He's buddies with a sorority girl named Nancy Wheeler (who also happens to be an ex-girlfriend, but that's water under the bridge), but she's not into partying—more into having a group of girls who want to see her succeed as a journalist (her sorority consists of her high school best friend, Barbara Holland, Tommy's girlfriend, Carol Perkins, a giddy cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, and a band geek who wants to be a conductor, Robin Buckley). I think he also becomes friends with Jonathan (although a bit reluctantly) through Nancy, and Argyle through Jonathan.

Steve becomes friends with Robin Buckley. Slowly, but surely. Adores her rambling conversations, which increase when she gets even the slightest bit tipsy with him (she never exceeds a few shots, and when he's with her, he doesn't drink more than that, either). She teases him without hurting his ego, unlike Tommy. He appreciates when she tells him that he's being a meathead, when he's out of his depth, when he's doing something even the slightest bit offensive. With her, he learns about his own sexuality (when she eventually comes out to him during a rather intense frat party—they had too much to drink this time, both loose-lipped and teetering). He learns to appreciate the more nerdy aspects of her, Nancy, and the rest of their sorority. Realizes he's more catty than he thought. Plays soccer with Robin on the weekends, though he sucks in comparison to when they play basketball together.

And through Robin, he meets somebody entirely new to him. Eddie Munson, a metalhead with a raspy voice and a cigarette addiction that Steve can get into, who charms in this weird flirtatious (though unintentional) teasing, who's beyond weird and dramatic, geeky with a touch of defensive. He's got a bite to him that Steve barks right back at, though never meanly. They get along like a house on fire, not a match, a house. Sure, sometimes they drink and party. But Eddie likes quieter things, despite his loud and boisterous personality. They smoke weed and sit on the roof and point out stars, or they talk for hours and hours until they both lose their voice, or they smoke and lay in the grass—absorbing one another's warmth without realizing.

It knocks Steve down, how much he learns to adore somebody like Eddie. Stirring something in him, something he's felt in his drunkest moments with Tommy. But with Eddie, he's completely sober. He's sober with intense emotion and want for a guy he's never expected to orbit around.

And, oddly enough, it's not Robin that tells him to go for it.

It's Tommy. He says something like, "Hey, we may not be best friends anymore, but I know what love looks like, man. And, y'know, considering all your past relationships, maybe it's time that you get something that makes you happy?" His voice is serious, unusually so. And Steve sort of clings to it, like a warm blanket on a camping trip. Tommy then adds something along the lines of, "Be stupid with me, Stevie-boy. Don't be stupid about your feelings. That gets you nowhere. And...I don't know this Eddie guy, not really, but there's something to him. Like a...one of those cloud things that Carol's always talking about—an aura? I could see him drawing you in before you had the chance to get his name."

Steve probably retorts with, "Shut up." And then blushes stupid about it. Because Tommy's never been wrong about these sort of things, no matter how much of an air cadet he can be. And he's also not wrong because when Robin first described to Steve who Eddie was, without giving a name initially, Steve was hooked like one of the fish he catches. (He goes on frat boy fishing trips and has a million photos in his phone of all the trout he's caught. Holds them up to the camera in that Straight Boy Way™️ (trademarked in case you can't see that on your dash), all proud as if the fish is his degree he's going out for.)

Also, I imagine that Steve goes to school to get a bachelor's degree in something like sports science? Or like physical education? Even something like family and human services?

So, line up of fields of study/options because now I want to come back to this:

-Nancy: Journalism -Robin: Music Education or Music Composition -Eddie: English or Music Production or Art -Steve: Sports Science or Physical Education or Family and Human Services -Tommy: Economics -Barb: English or Art History -Carol: Architecture -Chrissy: Special Education and American Sign Language (S.E. is typically a minor, but ASL is almost always a major) -Jonathan: Photography and Composition -Argyle: Neuroscience (I just feel it in my bones that he's like secretly crazy talented in sciences)

I can also think of some of the scenes being texting in group chats. And like with illustrations of Steve holding up his fish? God, my brain is on fire tonight.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SEVEN

in which you come to a few realizations while remembering the very first night you'd met eddie. a phone call with steve leaves you with more questions than answers.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, heavier angst this chapter but all will be well soon, two uses of y/n, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ word count: 4.4k+

→ a/n: shorter chapter today but the focus here is the memory! finally making some progress haha. also trying out something new with formatting/the summary situation. if i hate it, i'll probably change it. <3 also, italicized portion is a memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

7:00 ────ㅇ────────────── 24:00

DINGUS: [image attachment]

DINGUS: y/n just texted me this. we’re not getting an update this hour. 

BIRDIE: what the hell happened?

DINGUS: she hasn’t said yet, as you can see in the photo, robs. 

ARGYLE  😎: what do we THINK happened? 

BIRDIE: my best bet is fighting? 

ARGYLE 😎: lover’s quarrel? Makes sense. 

BIRDIE: i’m adding nance back into the chat

BIRDIE added NANCE to the groupchat.

BIRDIE: @NANCE explain what you meant earlier please. we’re having a code red. the bad kind. 

DINGUS: there’s a good kind of code red?

NANCE: Oh God, what happened? 

DINGUS: y/n texted me saying she fucked up, and we’re assuming either she’s finally murdered eddie, or they’re fighting again.

NANCE: I can call Eddie, if you guys want?

JOHNNY: So does this mean we’re all $500 richer?

BIRDIE: @JOHNNY if you still think this is about the money, you’re a fucking idiot

—

HOUR SEVEN - 10:00 PM

There had been a time in your life where you believed you didn’t hold a single mean bone in your body. A time where you were soft-spoken, a time where you overflowed with kindness and dotted out compliments to random strangers. There was once a version of you in this lifetime that worked so fervently to be the type of person people liked and enjoyed the company of. You always swore to always treat others with the same grace as you would prefer to receive as well.

A year ago, that version of you had been sidetracked. 

You stare at the wooden frame of Eddie’s door with blank eyes. He wasn’t going to open it any time soon. You’d tried knocking multiple times, calling out to him in a soft voice, begging and pleading and begging and pleading. His response continued to be silence. 

“All I’ve ever done is hurt you.”

With the haze clearing, in the midst of the aftermath and sour clarity, you wish you would have corrected him. Eddie and you had surely hurt each other countless times, but it is not all he’s ever done. 

You can remember the better moments clearly now. The time you’d tripped walking up the steps of one of the bars on Main Street, and Eddie had been the only person in your friend group to stop completely, reflectively reaching out to catch you from embarrassing yourself. The night of your birthday, in which he hadn’t come to the party due to “work” as Steve had explained, but had sent a card along with your friends that contained a gift card to your favorite coffee shop. You hadn’t even realized he knew your favorite coffee shop, and you’d come to find out that he didn’t even ask a single one of your mutual friends for it. You’d brushed it off as a lucky guess. And there was the time you’d forgotten your wallet during a brunch with the group, and he hadn’t hesitated to pick up your bill with his own. He didn’t even give Robin the chance to argue; he’d simply snatched your bill from across the table when you’d paled as you dug through your bag, and didn’t say a word about you paying him back. 

Small moments. Glimpses of kindness, bandages on wounds that you’d been ignoring to keep up a war between the two of you that you’d always assumed he’d started. 

Eddie Munson wasn’t the enemy, and the first night you two met was never a red herring; it was a glimpse into who he actually was. A clear look past the armor he hadn’t formed yet when it came to you. 

—

A YEAR AGO

“They’re going to love you!” Robin insists as she continues to shove you from behind through the entrance of the bar. Steve is ahead of you, guiding you through the rough crowd to the table the rest of the group had already snagged. 

You turn your head over your shoulder, reaching up and grabbing the hand that Robin rested on you, “You don't know that. What if they hate me? What if they think I’m the worst person they’ve ever met?” 

Even as you wore a smile, there was a truth to the fear in your words. You were petrified that these strangers, strangers who meant so much to your only friends on campus, would turn their noses to you. There was nothing Robin or Steve could do to extinguish the fear. It was already a terrible knot in the pit of your stomach, tying and untying itself like a nuisance as Steve started to wave at a brunette who had been scanning the bar as if waiting for someone. 

She’s pretty. Wavy hair barely brushing her shoulders, sharp features accentuated in the shadows of the busy location. The moment her blue eyes locked on Steve, all the concentration on her face faded to be replaced with an excited smile. 

She returns the wave, and the boys surrounding her at the table all glance in your direction. 

You’re still half-hidden behind Steve as the three of you approach the group. Robin bounds out from behind you, scooping the woman you assumed was the famous Nancy into a barrelling hug. Your eyes flickered to the boy sat to Nancy’s right, shaggy hair flopping against his forehead and smile creases exposed as he nods to Steve and holds up his drink in greeting. Beside him, another man sits, long and shiny hair flowing over an outrageous Hawaiian print shirt and topped off with a baseball cap that looked to be the merchandise of a pizza shop. His smile is welcoming – something comforting in the relaxation of it. 

You’re almost completely captivated by the warmth that bled from the group when Steve and Robin are suddenly taking their seats. Robin sits beside Nancy, while Steve takes the seat across from the man with long hair. 

The only seat left open was between Steve and a man who’s back was turned to you. 

His hair is in a loose bun, unraveling against the nape of his neck.  You could see each and every defined curl. His broad shoulders stiffen beneath a leather jacket and denim vest, and his ring-clad hand cradles a short glass of something dark, something fizzy. 

“Alright, everyone!” Steve announces, turning and beckoning you to take this seat. Your stomach twists again, realizing you’d be sitting beside a stranger. One who had yet to even spare you a glance, “This is Y/N.” 

There’s rounds of greetings and introductions as you brush shoulders with the stranger to take your seat, and try as you might to keep up, all you can focus on is not looking at him. 

You’re guess was correct – the pretty girl that Robin had hugged was Nancy. The boy with floppy hair at her side was Jonathan, and the man with long hair told you his name is Argyle. His tone of casualty matches the comfort of his smile as he holds a hand out to you across the table, both your elbow and his brushing against empty baskets once filled with bar food as you shake. 

Finally, you turn to look at the stranger beside you, Steve reaching around to clasp his shoulder. 

“And mister oh-so-welcoming here is Eddie.” 

Eddie. He finally turns to look at you, with doleful eyes and a tight-lipped grin, and you almost forget how to breathe. 

He was intimidating. All broodish glances and stand-offish energy. But then Argyle cracks a joke, and suddenly, it all fades. The air in the room crackles frantically as you watch him chuckle slowly at first, until he finally descends into cackles with Steve and Jonathan alike. 

That’s when the first vine sprouts. 

The second one does when the conversation becomes overwhelming, and you find yourself lost amongst the sea of new friends. They’re nothing but friendly, trying to learn more about you but easily falling into well-established inside jokes at times. When you descend into silence as you watch them recount a story of a time that Argyle snuck them into his job after hours, you suddenly feel Eddie lean in closer to you.

“I think they tell this story every time they get drunk,” he whispers, tilting his head so that the words only reach your ears, “I’ve probably heard it a hundred times by now.” 

You bite back a smile, “Just tonight, or the entire time you’ve known them?” 

“Both.”

You have to fight hard to swallow down giggles, Eddie hiding his with a sip of his drink. A waiter who had taken your order nearly ten minutes ago arrives with your own drink. An amaretto sour. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” he says as you taste the drink. Its citrus bursts across your tongue and you nod.

“So Steve mentioned.” 

“Yeah, but I felt bad for not introducing myself,” he shrugs. You were facing him fully now, no longer trying to stick vehemently to Steve’s side. “I didn’t want to seem like a dick, just… had a long week.” 

You knew all about long weeks.

“I get it,” you assure him, “Are you in school, too?” 

“Night classes,” he supplies with a wave of his hand, “Midterms are a bitch, especially after working all day.” 

“Tell me about it. I think I’m about ten seconds away from getting fired at my current gig,” you joke, and Eddie laughs. It occurs to you that you’d probably do just about anything to hear his laugh more, and already begin to conjure up terrible jokes to pull that sound from him once more. It’s even more comforting than Argyle’s friendly cadence, than Steve’s elbow knocking yours to remind you he’s still there.

“Why would you think that?” Eddie’s nose scrunches, more curls falling against his cheek. Your drink is immediately forgotten. 

“He caught me talking shit,” another laugh falls from Eddie’s lips at your deadpan, more reserved than the previous but just as melodic, “I give it a week. He was already looking for a reason to send me to the chopping block. Says I talk too much to customers.” 

“Is that even possible?”

“Apparently.” 

For a moment, in the smoky bar, it’s just you and Eddie. All knotting nerves have been replaced by the weight of the vines that surge higher and higher in your chest, growing at impossible rates. They don’t strangle you like your fears of the night had; their weight is a comforting hold, something solid to reach out for in the unfamiliar territory of new socialization. Without the mask of intimidation, Eddie feels like an old friend. 

You assume that everyone else is distracted by their own conversation, but Robin catches the way you lean into him as the two of you joke. She nudges Nancy subtly, and they both share a look when Eddie blushes at you being impressed as he tells you that his battle vest is hand-sewn. 

Your vines are not as hidden as you assume they are, certainly not when the first bud of hopefulness begins to grow. 

“So how long have you known Steve?” you ask him quietly, still under the guise of the two of you having created your own small bubble of a moment. 

Eddie downs the last of his Jack & Coke, something you caught onto by smelling it on his breath when he had gotten particularly close to you during conversation, “Too long. We all met in high school, actually.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me that,” you groan, and your forehead dramatically falls into his shoulder without second-thought. He stiffens beneath the connection, “I’m infiltrating a friend group that’s stood the test of times? I’m doomed.” 

You nearly lift your head from his still stiff shoulder, afraid to make him uncomfortable, when he brings a hesitant hand to pat your back jokingly, “There, there. I think you’re fitting in fine.” 

“Just fine? Ouch,” you finally lift your head as you had planned to, just as Eddie had begun to relax into your touch. His hand doesn’t fall too far from your back, resting on the back of your chair. His shy grin is impossibly charming, “You could have just said I’m crashing and burning, you know?” 

The night carries on like that, you and Eddie lost in private conversations only to be occasionally dragged back in on whatever debate the group is having. It’s a spring reaction; once one or both of you have given your two cents, you return to one another, finding solitude in joking and Eddie updating you on the group’s ‘lore’, as he puts it. Steve shoots several glances in your direction, always prepared to offer comfort in what should be an overwhelming situation, but he never has to. Every time he glances at you, Eddie is already taking the lead of entertaining you, qualming all your anxieties into non-existence. 

Your vines decorate with buds of hope. Every laugh you pull from Eddie, every fleeting touch that passes between the two of you, every new inside joke he decides to make with you rather than indulging in ones set in stone already with old friends - they all whisper of new friendship. They whisper in potential, in new beginnings and coming home after long weeks. 

By the time Nancy announces she has to go to the restroom and invites you and Robin, you’re in full bloom. You’re convinced that Eddie is a friend. And you can see it in his eyes – he’s convinced of it too, looking nervous when you stand and agree to go with Nancy. He looks like a child about to lose their social crutch, and it has potential to be devastating.

It’s almost enough to make you ignore your bladder, but you need to pee, and you need to socialize with more than just Eddie tonight. 

You’re not sure what happens at the table during your trip to the bathroom. But something surely does happen as you giggle with the girls under the humming lights of the restroom, as you all stand in the mirror side by side and fiddle with your hair and makeup and Robin makes a comment about how terribly cliche the moment is. Nancy slaps her on the arm, mutters something about the importance of girls bonding, and when you return to the table, you see it immediately – Eddie’s mask of indifference has returned. 

His cheeks are flushed, and all the boys are sharing nervous glances between one another as you all sit down again. 

There’s no more fleeting touches. You sip on your now watered down drink, and you try and pull Eddie out from wherever he’s ventured in your absence, but it’s no use. A conversation was had while you girls had been in the restroom, and it left Eddie in his head, out of reach. The buds of hopefulness quiver on their vines, and you try to reassure yourself that it’s nothing personal. It’s nothing personal when he clearly holds back any laughs at your jokes you lean into his space to whisper to only him, it’s nothing personal when his arm never rests on the back of your chair again, it’s nothing personal when he won’t meet your eyes the rest of the night. 

It’s nothing personal, but it’s sorely disappointing. 

You end the night, everyone splitting up, Eddie heading off towards his motorcycle. He hadn’t even mentioned driving a motorcycle during the night, and you curse the way you watch him straddle the seat as he secures his helmet over his tied-back hair. You desperately wish to know what was said while you were in the bathroom, what had happened to make him retreat so far from you after spending the entirety of the night tending to the greenery that had grown attached to your ribcage. 

“You like him, don’t you?” Robin teases at your side, bumping shoulders. 

Something aches in you. The thrill of meeting someone new, of getting along, of finding them cute and endearing, is beyond your grasp. 

He didn’t even say goodbye. 

“I did,” you whisper softly. A reverberation of past-tense, an exhale of worry. 

You did. But he didn’t even say goodbye. 

—

Eddie still hasn’t opened the door. But to his defense, you haven’t tried knocking again. 

That ache from that night, the feeling of a delicate rush of possibility taunting you from a distance, still remains. Even amongst now rotted vines, even as petals fall from your hopeful buds. It never really went away. With each group hangout that followed, it echoed louder and louder, demanding to be heard and demanding to be felt as Eddie grew colder. You were an idiot the first few times; you’d still gravitated to him, falling right into his orbit and begging for his attention. You’d still seek him out in every room, craving to find the warmth that had once sparked in his eyes only to find them averted from you entirely. And when you couldn’t take the hint, when you wouldn’t leave him alone when Steve and Robin left you to your own devices at the hangouts, he became mean. 

You took it as a joke at first, but six months ago, something inside of you finally wisened up – it wasn’t a joke. Eddie Munson hated you. Somehow, he hated you, and yet he also swore to protect you. He hated you, and yet he would still pay for you without you asking him to. He hated you, and yet he still remembered your birthday. He hated you, and yet, he still knew your favorite coffee shop. 

He hated you and yet. 

You stand, unable to take your racing thoughts anymore, moving to pound on the door again, “Eddie. Open the door.” 

You’re not asking anymore. 

You don’t care for answers any more. In this moment, you truly believe you could let it all be water under the bridge. Right this second, if you looked into honey brown eyes and goddamn dimples, you’d forgive him. 

“Eddie,” your voice cracks, and you scorn yourself. 

All I ever do is hurt you. 

Even in locking himself away, he’s hurting you. Putting that distance, choosing to not work this out like adults, is hurting you. 

“Can you- I don’t know, at least let me know that… that…” you trail off, huffing in frustration and finally smacking a flat palm against wood, watching the door shake on its hinges from your force, “Just let me know you’re alive, Jesus Christ, Eddie. We still have to take the stupid fucking photo for this hour, and we-” 

Mid-tirade, the door swings open to reveal Eddie. He doesn’t look irritated, he doesn’t look mad. He looks tired. 

The war between you two has weighed heavy on him, too. He doesn’t look like the same person you met a year ago. The battles raged, the fights lost, the victories celebrated through bloody teeth – they all show on the shadows of his face, a clear mirror image to your own. 

“Take the photo,” he says in monotone, hardly leaving the door cracked enough to catch a proper glimpse of him. 

“What?”

“The photo. Take it. For the chat, so you can get your money when it’s all over.” 

You’re stunned for a second. The money hadn’t even crossed your mind; you had just been rambling, hoping to find the right thing to say to get him to unlock the barrier between you two. 

Who the fuck even cares about the money anymore? 

You do. You’re supposed to. And so is he. 

You sigh and pull your phone from your back pocket, and turn your back to him before lifting the camera to capture the two of you. The door creaks open an inch more. 

There’s no fun pose. There’s no smiles. There’s nothing. It’s even more lifeless than the first photo taken. You can’t stand to look at it longer than necessary as you send it off to the group. 

Just as you turn around to face him again, to try and talk to him, the door shuts again. You can hear the soft click of a lock. The ache is heard, the ache is felt, as you refuse to look back at the wood that still separates you physically, at the emotions that separate you mentally.

You don’t really know why you do it. But you walk out to the living room, deciding against sitting outside the door any longer and continuing to make yourself miserable. Your feet carry you straight to the sliding door of his balcony, and you press outside into the cooler night air, shutting the door behind you. 

What happened when I was in the bathroom that night? 

The thought haunts you, a new ghost that had been lingering and gathering dust since that night. You never asked anyone, certainly not Eddie, and refuse to overthink it until now. But after tonight, after practically reliving your first encounter with Eddie all over again, the deja vu and the curiosity are winning over. 

You dial Steve’s number.

“Hell-”

“Why do me and Eddie hate each other?” you blurt out, cutting off Steve’s greeting. 

“I- What?” Steve’s confused, understandably so, “How should I know? I don’t keep a list of every time you rant about him to me.” 

“What about him?”

“Okay, you know I love you, but I’m not a mind-read-”

“What about a list of every time he rants about me?” 

Silence buzzes through the line, and you glance up at the night sky. It’s a cloudy black. The city pollution hides most of the stars, and from Eddie’s balcony, you can’t locate the moon. 

“I also don’t have one of those.” 

“Why not? Because, Jesus Christ, Harrington, I have questions-”

“Because he doesn’t rant about you. Especially not to me, but Nancy says he never talks about you usually either,” Steve explains in an even tone, still not sure how his answer should be helping you. You are the one, afterall, with Eddie right now. 

Even if he is locked away in his room right now, refusing to speak to you. 

“That makes no sense,” you sigh, exasperation creeping its way into your bones, “I rant about him all the time. I’ve bitched to you and Robin more times than I can count about him. He should be doing the same.” 

Steve says your name softly, “Why are you asking me this?” 

You laugh humorlessly and shake your head, even knowing Steve can’t see you, “It’s stupid. Forget it,” It’s not stupid to you, and you can’t forget it, but this doesn’t concern Steve, “Can I ask you one last question, though?”

“Shoot, babydoll,” you can’t help but grin at that nickname. Steve pulls it out at random, every time he’s trying to make you feel bad. He knows that neither of you can take it seriously. 

“Um, that night you introduced me to everyone,” you begin, stepping up to wrap your free hand around the iron railing of Eddie’s balcony, letting the cold seep into your palm, “At the bar, you know?” 

“Right…” he encourages, “What about it?” 

“Me and Eddie got along,” you spit it out, letting it tear from your chest and score your throat on its way out, “We… we were getting along at first, and then I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, he…. He…” 

He was gone. The Eddie I’d first met had vanished. Where’d he go? Why’d he go? 

“Shit, your memory is way better than mine,” Steve chuckles, sounding nervous, “But, I mean, I kind of remember that. You two getting along, at least. Guess that’s why we all were really confused when you started hating each other. But I’m still not understanding the question - are you asking if I remember the night? Or if he’s ever talked about it? I was a jock, you’re gonna have to spell it out for my pea brain.” 

“Stop insinuating you’re stupid,” you scold on instinct, scowl settling along your features as you lean onto the railing and glance down. It’s only two stories, but the ground feels impossibly far as you ask, “What happened when all us girls went to the bathroom? When we came back, he acted differently. Did he mention hating me that night? Did I leave a bad first impression? Was it all just a joke to hi-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. One question, remember?” you’re sure Steve can hear the panting in your breath over the line, the way your chest heaves in the memory, “I’ve gotta be honest - I don’t remember. I know that’s probably not the answer you’re looking for, and I don’t know what’s going on with you two right now, but I was already well on my way to drunk. I think Jonathan and Argyle poked some fun at Eddie, maybe teased him about something, but I really can’t recall what it was about. Maybe his hair? Who knows?” 

The answer isn’t helpful. It’s only more confusing, more hurtful. 

He stopped joking with you because someone made fun of his hair? You lost access to the warmth buried beneath his surface because his friends teased him? 

“Okay,” you sound defeated. You feel defeated – defeated by the weight of still feeling like an outsider, defeated by the barrier of some measly wooden door, defeated by the hurt in Eddie’s eyes as you admitted that he only ever hurts you, “Okay, thanks, Steve.” 

You hang up before either of you say goodbye. When you pull your phone down from your cheek and ear, you see your phone still open to the photo of Eddie and you that you’d sent to the group. 

You were wrong. There wasn’t only nothing. Your face may have been void of all emotions, but now looking at it, you can see Eddie’s isn’t. 

He’s looking at you and not the camera during the shot, face crestfallen, eyes nearly teary as the corners of his mouth tucked downward. 

He’s looking at you with regret, with sadness. He’s looking at you as if he can see the vines he’d planted in you, all rotted and dusting away, and he’s mourning them just as you had. 

It’s bullshit, or your imagination, or your innate need for Eddie to bleed the same way as you have over your entire situation with each other. You lock your phone and don’t bother to look at the photo again as you enter the living room, as you toss your phone onto the loveseat, as you curl up on the couch and don’t even bother to go to ask for a pillow or blanket. He probably wouldn’t answer the door, anyway. 

You don’t say goodnight to Eddie, just as he never said goodbye to you the first night, and wonder if he notices the absence of your salutation.

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[violetsteve]

If you prefer, this is also posted on AO3

After the almost end of the world, Steve decides he’s going to put the moves on Eddie Munson.

Robin may or may not laugh in his face when he announces it.

The thing is, despite Robin almost laughing him out of the building, the thing is Steve is still figuring out his sexuality. He knows he likes girls, he’s always liked girls, but then Robin pointed out that maybe he couldn’t figure out what he wanted because he wasn’t looking in the right place and Steve realized she was right . Sure, Robin had meant more of a ‘ stop going after girls who are traditionally pretty and from well off families and try going out with girls whose company you actually enjoy’ and not a ‘ hey, dudes are kinda hot, too, right? It was real weird how transfixed you seemed to be on Eddie Munsons lips while we were actively fighting demon monsters,’ but Steve has always been good at reading in between the lines. Or, more like inserting what he wants in the gaps of what people leave unsaid.

So, no, Robin did not tell Steve to open his eyes and realize that straight guys don’t exactly think about how another guys lips will look slick with spit, how they’ll feel under the pressure of his thumb, what the sweet satisfaction of them partying so readily under his will feel like, but she did tell him to broaden his horizons and honestly, they were basically the same thing.

Which is why Steve feels like she should be more supportive of his plans to woo Eddie Munson onto his couch—and maybe, if he’s feeling ambitious, eventually into his bed.

“Robin, come on . I’m serious!” Steve will never admit, even under Russian torture again, that he whines it. He’s coming to Robin as a sounding board, not so she can make fun of him. If he wants someone to make fun of his lack of prowess, he would go talk to Dustin. 

Or, yeah on second thought no. He’s not actually sure his ego could take that much of a hit at the moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasps, gripping the—newly rebuilt and polished—family video counter in front of her. “I just—Steve, that’s-that’s so ambitious . You literally just came out to me less than a week ago and you’re already talking about getting with a boy. And Eddie Munson at that.”

Steve scowls at her, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that he knows looks bitchy, but he can’t help it because—

“Don’t say his name like that. He literally almost died to save us all. He’s not fucking dirty .”

Robin immediately sobers, a guilty, but irritated look on her face. “That’s not how I meant it, Steve, and you know it. Don’t get bitchy at me just because you’re feeling sensitive about your feelings for a boy.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Steve isn’t really angry at her for laughing—Robin makes fun of him at least 7 times a day, Steve would be more concerned if she didn’t make at least one joke about this—and he isn’t even mad at her for putting a weird emphasis on Eddie’s name. No, he’s all twisted up about his feelings and he’s never been good at expressing them, let alone talking about them. He’s feeling self conscious and his skin is prickling with embarrassment and the easiest thing to do is lash out about it.

“That’s not—“ Steve cuts himself off, looking away from Robin as his shoulders slump. “You’re right,” he mumbles. “Sorry. I just. I wanna fucking kiss him so bad , Rob, and that freaks me out a little.” Steve untucks one of his arms to scrub a hand over his face, leaving the other one tucked around his waist to protect his vulnerable bits.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs, closing the distance between them so she can settle her hands on his shoulders. “I get it. Do you think I acted like a sane person the first time I realized I wanna kiss girls? I think I cried for a week. Kerry the stuffed Koala had to go to therapy because of all of my crying. It was a serious time in the Buckley house.”

Steve smiles behind his hand. He loves her so much. She’s really his best friend. He’s so thankful for her.

“You still cry about kissing girls,” Steve says, rather than admitting any of that. She already knows she’s smart, Steve doesn’t need to add any more to her ego. It just gives her more brain to bully him with.

He drops the hand covering his face to look at her. “Only now it’s more of a,” Steve puts on a high pitched, whiny voice, “‘why do I have to go to work when I could be spending all day making out with my girlfriend.’” He brings both of his hands up to clasp in front of his chest, batting his eyelashes at her in a fake-coy way.

Robin shoves at him, catches him off guard and he goes stumbling backwards into the counter, laughing the whole way. 

“Shut up , you absolute dickhead, ” she all but screeches, reaching out to give his chest another shove for good measure. “You literally have no room to talk considering you started this shift by announcing your intentions to, quite literally, crawl into Eddie’s lap and kiss him stupid . That’s almost verbatim what you said, Steve.”

Steve’s still chuckling as he rights his position a little, leaning back against the counter more comfortably. “Yeah, I did say that.” He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth before he continues with, “I really, really wanna sit on his lap and kiss him until he can’t focus, Rob.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but it’s more fond than annoyed. Steve can tell—he’s been on the receiving end of about 90 percent of Robin’s eye rolls, he’s getting good at distinguishing the emotions behind each one.

“I still can’t believe you have a crush on Eddie Munson of all people. He’s so weird ,” She laughs, but Steve can tell that that, too, is fond. Robin and Eddie have a weird friendship. They geek out over obscure instruments and the nuance of tacky movies together. Steve doesn’t get it, but he enjoys watching how expressive both of them can be. He once watched Eddie climb onto a table while arguing with Robin about one of their movies. Robin followed him up shortly after, though, so Steve isn’t sure why she thinks the weird is limited to Eddie.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and he’s man enough to admit that it sounds dreamy . God, he’s pathetic over Eddie. It scares the shit out of him. “You know, the other day he gave me a rock. It wasn’t even, like, a cool rock. It was literally just a rock. When I asked him why he just shrugged and was like ‘I dunno, it made me think of you.’”

Robin’s grin grows. “Oh my God. What did you do with the rock?”

Steve shoots her a disgruntled look. “What do you think I did with the rock? I put in my pocket and then brought it home and set it on my nightstand. Eddie gave it to me, I wasn’t just going to throw it on the ground again. That’s rude.”

Robin absolutely cackles at this, there’s no other way to describe it. She’s awash in glee as she claps her hands together a few times. “ Jesus , Steve. You’ve got it so bad for this man.”

“God,” Steve mutters, running a hand over his face again. “That’s not even the worst part, Rob. He like. He grabs his utensils with his whole fist when he eats. It’s so weird, and it’s so messy . It makes fuck all sense. He doesn't even grab a pencil that way. Just his fucking eating utensils . 

“And he walks so chaotic. He just randomly breaks into a sprint. Just starts fucking running out of nowhere. And he bounces. As if the random running wasn’t enough, he just fucking starts jumping. Sometimes he jumps at me, and it’s all I can do to actually catch him before he eats dirt. Or- or he’ll just. Spin. Just twirl in the middle of the sidewalk while still carrying on a conversation.” Steve slumps, his back getting slightly scraped against the counter as he sinks to his butt.

“The man has zero regard for personal space and he always makes way too intense of eye contact. Sometimes he’ll use one of his character voices in the middle of an otherwise totally normal conversation, and he’s always climbing on things. He’s loud and he’s weird and I wanna wrap my fingers around the collar of his shirt, shove him against a wall and then shove my tongue down his throat , jesus christ. ” Steve buries his face in his knees, his mind playing an endless loop of Eddie smiling with those stupid lips that are always cherry red and raw from his constant gnawing. Steve wants to bite them for him.

“Oh, my God, Steve.” Robing sinks down to sit across from him. “This is pathetic . I, like, knew you had a crush on Eddie but this is like. Dangerous territory. Like, the next step might be the L word level territory.”

Steve makes a small squeaking noise, his face still buried in his knees. Robin’s words hint at something that Steve is so not ready to admit to himself yet. She’s hitting way too close to something Steve has been avoiding actively and vehemently since he realized the attraction he feels for boys is decidedly not of the straight variety.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then, like the angel she so clearly is, Robin says, “So, wanna tell me about operation ‘crawl into Eddie’s lap and makeout with him?’”

Steve laughs, the tightness in his chest slowly easing. He lifts his head, and then spills his guts.

***

The plan starts simply. First, he needs to get Eddie alone . No annoying tagalongs to potentially interrupt.

It’s easier said than done. For two days straight, Steve asks Eddie to hang out and, somehow, one of the kids manages to weasel into their plans.

It’s driving Steve nuts.  

He casually asks Eddie to watch a movie, give him a proper education like him and Robin are always going on about, and Dustin overhears and invites himself.

He asks Eddie to go for a walk, makes an excuse about it being gorgeous outside while he plots ways for the walk to end right outside his house, isn’t that neat, but Lucas and Max overhear and suddenly it’s a group affair.

He asks Eddie to get milkshakes, plans to lure him back to his house with the promise of complete control of Steve’s record player, but El overhears and asks if she can tag along and Steve just can’t look into her big, earnest eyes and tell her no. He’s not a monster.

So they get milkshakes with El, and it’s fun . Of course it’s fun, but Steve is getting desperate . It’s been a little over a week since he hatched his mad plan with Robin and he’s about to start climbing the walls with anticipation.

It doesn’t help that Eddie has a mother fucking oral fixation. At every opportunity he’s either putting stuff in his mouth or chewing on something. It’s fucking rude, is what it is. It’s like he doesn’t even realize Steve is suffering.

It all finally comes to a head a full week and four days after his conversation with Robin on the floor of Family Video. He’s stopping by Eddie’s house to grab something Dustin left behind because Dustin asked and he’s nice . It’s maybe also because it’s a great excuse to see Eddie, but Dustin sure as shit doesn’t need to know that that’s the sole reason Steve said he will.

Eddie is slightly bent over, riffling through his Dungeons and Dorks stuff, and Steve is trying so hard to pretend like he’s not entirely focusing on his ass and the line of exposed skin above his belt. If Eddie turns around right now, he’s busted for sure.

Eddie’s just mentioned some kind of dragon when he lets out a triumphant noise, his story coming to an abrupt halt as he spins on his heel to face Steve.

“Aha!” He exclaims, thrusting a notebook in Steve's direction. 

Steve automatically reaches out to take it, his fingers brushing over the backs of Eddie’s in the switch over. Eddie bites his bottom lip at the contact, avoiding Steve’s gaze, and suddenly all Steve is thinking about is his mouth.

Steve debates with himself for a moment. This isn’t really how he planned to seduce his way into Eddie Munson’s lap, but he’s adaptable. If the years of almost apocalypses have taught Steve anything, it’s that sometimes you have to make do with what you have.

And what Steve has is an empty trailer save the two of them, and a couch less than ten feet away. He’s got the object of his affections standing in front of him, and Steve decides to adapt.

He wets his own lips, stepping towards Eddie. His hand is still holding Eddie’s hostage over the notebook.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, ducking his head so he can look up through his lashes.

Steve watches Eddie’s breath catch, watches him stutter over his next sentence.

“Y-yeah,” he breathes out, his eyes flicking between Steve’s eyes and his mouth at a rapid speed. “Of c-course. I mean, it happens. Kids forget things. I’m sure Dustin just wanted to, like, go over the last session's notes for anything he missed.”

“Of course,” Steve agrees, taking another step into Eddie’s space. He’s aware that he’s primarily staring at Eddie’s lips, which is probably rude, but he can’t help it. They’re wet and shiny and Steve has been thinking about them an obsessive amount for the last week and a half.

“We’re, um, I-I mean they’re going against a red dragon,” Eddie continues. Steve’s aware of this. It’s what Eddie had been telling him when he’d found the notebook. “They’re very powerful, almost impossible to defeat.”

“Are they?” Steve’s only half following the conversation, but that’s not saying much. He has a hard time keeping up with the DnD talk on a regular day.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says, and then he’s off. He starts spitting words so fast Steve wouldn’t be able to keep up even if he were paying complete attention.

“Eddie,” Steve says, but Eddie is still talking, still mumbling along about the red dragon.

“Eddie,” Steve tries again, but it’s like he’s shouting in an empty room. He knows Eddie knows he’s talking to him, can tell by how wide Eddie’s eyes are, how he’s not even trying to not slur his rapidfire words together. If Eddie was talking about dragons for the hell of it, he’d be gesticulating and probably climbing on things. As it were, he’s got his gaze fixed on Steve, eyes comically wide as his words rush together—barely getting one out before the next slew rush into it in a truly amusing word traffic jam.

Eddie’s nervous , and fuck if that doesn’t thrill Steve to his core. Steve takes the final step towards him to completely close the distance and—

Eddie takes a step back, his words stuttering along with Steve’s heart in his chest. He wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting Eddie to back away from him so quickly. Steve has half a second to be hurt, to mentally kick himself because get a fucking clue , Harrington, before he catches Eddie’s eyes darting down to his lips, his tongue unconsciously swiping along his lower lip before his gaze skitters back up to Steve’s.

And, oh, yeah , Steve has him exactly where he wants him. Eddie isn’t stepping back because he doesn’t want Steve. No, he’s stepping back because he’s prey . Steve is stalking towards him with a single minded focus and Eddie is skittering backwards like a scared rabbit—bouncing back step by step as Steve approaches until his back collides with the wall. That, finally, seems to knock all their air out of Eddie. The dragon conversation dies on his lips as Steve finally—fucking finally —closes the remaining distance between them. He reaches out, cupping Eddie's cheek in one hand, his jaw in the other, all while pressing up against Eddie from hip to chest.

“ Eddie, ” Steve murmurs, his eyes hooding. This time, Steve feels Eddie’s breath catch, feels the way a tremor works its way through Eddie’s body. He’s staring up at Steve with wide, wild eyes. He looks like a deer caught in a trap—ready to break his leg trying to get away if he needs to.

Steve isn’t sure why that makes him feel a little wild, but it does.

He stretches his thumb out to swipe across Eddie's bottom lip—already bitten and red from Eddie’s nervous chewing. God , it drives Steve crazy . He has a half-hysterical thought about offering his own up for Eddie to chew on when he’s nervous. Eddie makes him crazy .

Steve licks at his own lips as he watches the way his thumb catches and drags and the swollen skin of Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie’s trembling in earnest now, and Steve feels his pulse thundering in his ears. He wants to kiss Eddie so bad his fucking toes are curling with the anticipation.

He flicks his gaze up, away from Eddie’s lips up to his eyes and he has to fight back a groan. Eddie looks fucking wrecked and Steve hasn’t even kissed him yet. His eyes are wide and wild, his pupils blown and there’s a scarlet flush in his cheeks. He’s fucking panting against Steve’s face and he can’t take it any more. He really, really can’t. He has to kiss him—screw anticipation, screw driving Eddie past the brink. He needs and he needs now.

“ Eddie, ” Steve practically gasps . “Eddie, please.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his body unconsciously rocks forward, seeking even more of Eddie out. “Wanna kiss you so bad, please say I can, please—”

And before Steve can get another plea out, Eddie’s slamming his head forward with enough force to knock their teeth together in an uncomfortable clack ; enough force that their noses knock together in a painful way.

But Steve doesn't care . He doesn’t care because Eddie’s lips are on his and he feels like there’s liquid fire coursing through his veins. He feels lit up from the inside out as Eddie finally, finally touches him back. He fists a hand in the back of Steve’s shirt, the other winding through Steve’s hair and fuck it’s finally happening. After night upon night of imagining what kissing Eddie Munson would be like, Steve’s finally doing it.

And goddamn is he doing it. Eddie’s lips are slick against his, hot and encouraging . They slide together in a way that has Steve’s mind going blissfully blank, his only thoughts being hotwetyesmore.  

He kisses him messy, lips moving together in a too fast pace that neither of them can keep track of; bruising force in the way their lips slide, spit sliping from their parted lips in a slow trickle that has Steve’s fingers curling against Eddie’s jaw.

He uses that hand to tilt Eddie’s head up slightly, angling it enough that Steve can get his bottom lip between his own and suck slightly. The first slid of Eddie’s lip between Steve’s own has him seeing fucking stars . 

A punched out groan breaks free from Eddie’s throat and he rocks forward into Steve, seeking more . The hand in the middle of his back pulls and Steve is helpless to do anything but push Eddie more firmly into the wall. He knows it has to hurt, has to be restricting Eddie’s breathing with how tightly they’re pressed together, but he can’t take enough focus away from Eddie’s mouth to care . Plus, if Eddie minds that much he wouldn’t be pulling Steve closer .

Eddie breathes a wet gasp into Steve’s mouth when he takes his teeth to the lip still tucked between his own, and Steve can’t help but let out a gasp of his own. Eddie tastes fucking phenomenal. He can taste the lingering tobacco on his tongue, the salty tang of the popcorn he must have had earlier, and just the overwhelming taste of Eddie. Hot, sweet, fucking sublime. Steve‘s never been a particularly religious man, but he feels like he’s drinking heaven straight from Eddie’s mouth. With every gasp, every moan, every brush of Eddie’s tongue, he feels one step closer to absolution. It’s addicting .

God , he wants more. He wants Eddie’s hands all over him, on bare skin. He wants those deft musicians fingers to snake into his hair, tug a bit. He wants Eddie over him and under him and—

He stills suddenly, a thought occurring to him. The line that had triggered this whole thing—his announcement to Robin back in Family Video—and suddenly there’s a burning need in Steve’s gut. God, he needs to sit in Eddie’s lap right now. Needs to feel his strong thighs under him, needs Eddie’s hands on his ass and his tongue in his mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Steve bites out when he pulls back. Tearing his mouth away from Eddie’s is so much harder than it has any right to be.

Eddie’s staring at Steve with glassy eyes, his lips shiny and red and oh fuck even his chin is glistening with their spit. Steve wants to devour him.

“Go sit on the couch,” Steve says, and is pleasantly surprised that his voice only sounds a little rough, a little shaky.

“What?” Eddie croaks out, staring at Steve for a beat. Then, miracle of miracles, he does it. He stares at Steve the whole time, the glassy look getting a little clearer, and Steve thinks that simply will not do.

The minute Eddie is seated, Steve’s crawling his way into his lap. He wedges his knees into the crease at the back of the couch, shuffling as far forward as he can so their chests are pressing together, their clothed crotches aligning. Then, without giving Eddie a chance to adjust, he drops down, pressing the full weight of his ass into Eddie’s thighs and, by proximity, his dick.

“ Jesus Christ ,” Eddie swears, his hands shooting out to grab at Steve’s ass on instinct. Steve almost giggles . It’s exactly what he wants.

“You can just call me Steve,” he mutters, and before Eddie can reply, he’s sweeping in and claiming Eddie’s lips again. Eddie huffs against his mouth, but let’s Steve have the last word. Steve’s glad because he has plans .

Plans that start with Steve winding those thick curls around his fingers as he slides his lips against Eddie’s. Eddie pushes his head back into Steve’s hands like a cat, and it makes Steve smile into their kiss, which makes Eddie smile into the kiss. It’s like a domino effect—once Steve feels Eddie’s smile against his, he starts giggling like a schoolgirl. He can’t help it, this feels unreal in the best possible way.

Then Eddie’s off, giggling back into Steve’s mouth. They’re both just sitting there giggling at each other, eyes squinted and happy . God, Steve feels euphoric in this moment, perched in Eddie’s lap like it’s his throne, with Eddie’s hands on his ass.

Eddie pulls back after a moment, when their smiles are too wide to actually kiss. He brings a hand up to gently brush a strand of hair away from Steve’s eyes, tucking the long lock behind his ear before putting his hand back on Steve’s ass. 

“You’re unbelievable, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, eyes so full of affection that Steve feels his insides turn to mush. He squirms in Eddie’s laps, ducking his head to mouth at Eddie’s neck because if he stares into his eyes any longer he’s going to do something stupid . Stupid like admit that he’s pretty fucking sure he’s in love with Eddie, has been since he gave him that dumb rock for no decernable reason other than he wanted to, because he was thinking of Steve.

Steve tongues at the tendon in Eddie’s neck that’s stretched taunt, rubs his nose along his jaw and up to the hollow under his ear. Eddie laughs, tilting his head sideways to give Steve easier access.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy? After you practically pounced on me earli—”

Eddie’s words cut off in a choked groan as Steve bites, hard , at the tendon he was just showing attention to.

“ Steve, ” Eddie gasps, but Steve doesn’t let him do any other talking. No, he’s not going to let Eddie derail him again. So, he dives back for Eddie’s mouth, licking into it, not slowing down and not giving Eddie a chance to catch up. He smooths his tongue alongside Eddie’s, lets Eddie push back against it with his own for a millisecond, before he’s switching tactics—licking behind the top row of Eddie’s teeth, sliding his tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip. 

Eddie squeezes his ass at the sudden onslaught, and Steve can’t help the small jerk his body gives at that. He grinds down, a gasp trapped in the humid air between them as sharp waves of pleasure shoot up his spine. He’s trapped in between Eddie’s lips and his hands and he feels like he’s high with it.

He’s enjoying himself so much.

He slides his tongue along Eddie’s again, enjoys the way it's slightly rough and gloriously slick against his own. Enjoys the way it makes his pulse thrum a little faster, his fingers grip a little tighter where they’re fisted in Eddie’s hair—the way it makes Eddie squeeze a little tighter, which makes Steve grind down a little harder.

Steve feels the evidence of Eddie’s interest, has been feeling it, and knows Eddie has to be aware of Steve’s own. And Steve’s fantasized about Eddie’s lips for so long that he’s tried to keep it to just that—tried to focus on the heady drag of lips on lips—but it’s hard to ignore the way Steve’s own hips are twisting down, seeking as much of Eddie as possible. Hard to ignore the way Eddie has his own feet planted on the floor, meeting Steve’s hips with firm thrusts of his own.

They’re sharing humid air and sharp gasps, their lips swollen and honestly sore . Steve’s lips ache in the best way he’s ever felt, and Steve doesn’t want to stop. Wants to sit right here on Eddie’s strong thighs, wants to feel Eddie’s teeth nipping at the too sensitive skin of his mouth, wants to kiss Eddie for the rest of his life .

They kiss and kiss and kiss, and Steve has never just kissed someone like this. He’s never kissed just to feel, kissed just for the pleasure of it with no expectations for what’s to follow. He feels intoxicated. He’s utterly, wholly blissed out on Eddie Munson’s mouth and he never wants it to end.

They kiss for so long that Steve has honestly started to lose feeling in his lips. It’s weird feeling them so sore, so numb. But they are, so he slowly, so slowly pulls back. Leaning down for a few lingering pecks as he puts a little distance between their mouths.

Eddie’s mouth is bright red, spit slick and so tempting. Steve watches with fascination as a single string of spit connects their lips, stretching until he’s put enough distance between them that it breaks.

Steve bites his lip on a moan, thinks that’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

He meets Eddie’s gaze. His eyes are wild, pupils blown out. His hair is an absolute disaster from the way Steve’s been running his fingers through it, and his cheeks are flushed so prettily. Steve can’t resist sneaking one more kiss in, lingering around afterwards to rub their noses together.

“Hi,” Steve finally murmurs and fuck, is that his voice? Jesus, he sounds wrecked.

“Hi,” Eddie says back, his smile verging on loopy. “Did you know that some corvids can understand physics?”

Steve stares at him for a beat, a little stunned and a lot confused by the abrupt topic switch. Eddie stares back, a look on his face that Steve can only take for regret, his already pink face is turning positively crimson. 

It’s dead quiet for a moment, then Steve bursts into laughter. His chest absolutely swells with affection, with, fuck it, love. God damn , he can’t deny it any longer. The love he feels for this boy sitting under him is overwhelming at the best of times, and it feels like it’s just bursting out of him at this moment. He’s coming apart at the seams with his feelings for Eddie, and he’s done trying to pretend that they’re anything but that.

“Oh my God, ” Eddie mutters, bringing his hands up to hide his face. It’s so endearing. Steve is endeared. “Sorry, fuck. I don’t know why I just said that.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Steve’s still grinning down at Eddie, moving his hands to clasp around Eddie’s wrists, trying to pry his hands away. He never wants to not be looking at Eddie. He’s so fucking weird and Steve likes him so much. “I like you so fucking much .”

Eddie lets Steve pull his hands away, and he…there’s no other word for it, Eddie just absolutely lights up. It’s like Steve’s staring directly at the sun. Eddie is beaming up at him, his smile so wide that his eyes are basically closed. He has laugh lines, and Steve is already obsessed with them, already thinking of ways to make Eddie smile this wide, this radiant all the time.

���Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve confirms. “Just ask Robin. I’ve been whining about it for weeks .”

Eddie laughs again, his grin not dimming in the slightest, and Steve just has to taste it—has to get his mouth around Eddie’s happiness. So, he swoops back in, feels Eddie’s laughter transfer to him via their connected mouths, feels a piece of himself that’s long been looking for a home finally slot into place.

[reidingandwriting]

Lover (Steve Harrington’s Version)

Chapter Two: Cruel Summer

“I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Fem!Reader, cursing throughout, drinking, reader and Steve continuing to have Not Great parents (especially reader)

A/N: This fully meant to post yesterday but it never did?? Anyways.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

You don’t know why you decided to go to the party. Well, yes you do. You wanted out of your parents’ house, you wanted to forget. You wanted to be with Steve. Steve, where was he?

“Steve?” Your voice was loud but barely recognizable over the sound of the music playing. You maneuvered through the crowd of drunk high school graduates and you moved your head as if on a swivel, looking for your best friend. In your search, you felt a hand grab your shoulder and instinctively, you stomped your foot and spun around when you heard a familiar voice curse. “Shit, ‘m so sorry!”

“Impressive aim! Would be proud if it wasn’t my foot you just broke.” Steve winced as he shook his foot out and you rolled your eyes.

“Not broken, crybaby.” Steve flicked you in the forehead and you pouted, the corners of your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Mm, thirsty.” You grabbed Steve’s hand and walked with him to the kitchen. You had a few drinks already and weren’t entirely sure of your route, not familiar with Kimmy’s house. You eventually made your way to the kitchen and you let out a little cheer as you realized where you were.

“How much have you had to drink?” Steve asked and he watched as you swayed a little bit. He didn’t blame you for wanting to drink the night away, however your tolerance has always been on the lower side. You seemed noticeably more tipsy than you were when he left for the bathroom, and you pulled out two cans of beer from the fridge. You offered one to Steve, who shook his head. “I’ll just steal some of yours when you’re not looking. Someone needs to be able to drive you home tonight.”

“Not even that drunk,” you huffed as you cracked a can open and took a large swig before you winced. “Ugh, I hate beer.”

“Sure have had a lot of it for someone who hates it,” Steve teased and you scowled at him so adorably, he had to ruffle your hair once he walked over to where you stood. “C’mon, let’s get some air for a minute.” Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you quietly followed him, grounded by the warm, comforting touch. Steve led you to the front yard and you sat on the front porch, leaned against him.

“I hate them,” you said after a minute of silence. You had tried to keep your hopes down, you really did. Always expect the worst and you’ll never be disappointed. But it was your graduation. The biggest moment in your life so far and they couldn’t be bothered to show up. Steve hated seeing your face fall when you realized your parents weren’t in the audience of the gymnasium. Even his own parents showed up for once, even if they were late and didn’t stay long before they left.

You had been brave, plastering on a smile when the kids came to congratulate you. You nearly cried when Dustin had given you flowers and Max had shyly given you a teddy bear with a graduation cap. Joyce Byers had surprised you with her attendance and she brought a Polaroid camera, your share of the pictures tucked into your bag that presently resided in Steve’s car.

Steve opened his mouth to respond to you when he noticed the tear sliding down your cheek. He hadn’t seen you cry often, and he felt out of his element. Regardless, he pulled you closer and you clutched his shirt in your hands as you cried, your shoulders shaking. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Steve hoped his voice was soothing, hand pressed to the small of your back.

“Wish we could just run away. Leave Hawkins forever, leave our parents behind.” You hiccuped. “I never want to see them again.”

“Why don’t you stay with me for a while?” Steve offered. “Not like we don’t have the space. You already have half of your things at mine, anyways.” You smiled against Steve’s shoulder, and your hands moved up, fingers twirling the ends of his hair.

“So soft. Such nice hair, Stevie.” Your voice had gone soft, tired and Steve sighed softly. “Can we go home?”

“Absolutely,” Steve said as he untangled the two of you. He stood and you reached up, making grabby hands at him. “As much as I appreciate your belief in how strong I am, I need you to stand up first.” You slowly rose to your feet and Steve scooped you up once you were standing. “Alright, princess. Let’s go home.”

-

“Stevie!” You sang as you walked into Scoops and you laughed at the glare he gave you. “Hey, Robs.” You greeted the girl you had quickly become friends with, Max and El politely greeting Steve and Robin before ordering their own ice cream cones. You watched as they sat at a booth and once they were settled, you leaned against the counter to talk to Steve, appreciating a rare moment of downtime in the ice cream shop. Steve pretended to look busy, wiping at the same spot on the counter as you talked.

“We still on for tonight?” You asked and Steve nodded.

“Of course. You owe me for taking care of your hungover ass after graduation,” Steve teased and you flipped him off with a scoff.

“What are you doing tonight?” Robin asked and you bounced on your toes.

“We’re going to the drive-in, Steve’s been begging me to go see this scary movie that sounds stupid,” you emphasized, barely moving out of the way as Steve snapped the rag out towards you. “And he did deal with my hangover exceptionally well, so I owed him one.” The sound of the girls laughing behind you distracted you and you missed the look Robin gave Steve.

“It’s not stupid! You’re stupid, Stupid,” Steve said and you rolled your eyes.

“Stupid,” you mocked and leaned forward to poke his hat. “Can’t call me stupid wearing your adorable little sailor outfit, kind of ruins the effect.” You wink before you turn to Robin. “Robin, my favorite person ever, can I have a chocolate cone please?” You started to dig in your pocket for the cash to cover yours and the girls ice cream and Steve shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said and you tilted your head. “Buy our popcorn tonight and we’re even.”

“I’ll even be nice and buy our drinks,” you smile, and the matching smile Steve gives you has your stomach fluttering. You flinched when Robin cleared her throat and you apologized as you took the cone. “I’ll swing by at seven?” You clarified and when Steve nodded, you let out a breath. “Perfect. I’ll see you tonight. See you later, Robin.” You almost tripped over your own feet in your haste to walk over to El and Max.

A minute later, the three of you left the shop and Robin walked over to the whiteboard. She drew a line under ‘You suck’ and laughed as Steve made an offended noise.

“Hey! That was prime flirting right there. I deserve a rule point.”

“If only you weren’t a dingus and actually asked her out instead of playing the ‘just friends’ card, maybe you would’ve gotten the point,” Robin said and Steve sighed. “You better ask her out before I do.”

“Watch it,” Steve muttered as another customer walked in. “Welcome to Scoops!”

Later that night, you and Steve sat in his car. The movie played over the radio, and you huffed as you turned the radio up. “Could you chew that popcorn any louder?”

“Sure could,” Steve said as he moved closer to you, chewing obnoxiously. You laughed as you slapped his shoulder and he settled back into his seat. “Thanks for actually coming with me. You didn’t have to.”

“Course I did. Plus, I can’t remember the last time we got to hang out without one of the kids interrupting.” Steve breathed out a laugh and hesitated before letting his arm drape over your shoulders. You reached up and started to play with his fingers, humming to yourself. You jumped at a scary part and laced your fingers with Steve’s, a firm grip on his hand as your eyes stayed glued to the screen.

“Not as stupid as you thought?” Steve asked and you shrugged.

“Good scares, but relies on them more than the actual plot.”

“What even is the plot?” You and Steve laughed and with a content sigh, you looked over at him. Steve’s gaze met your own, something you didn’t recognize flickering in his warm brown eyes.

“Everything okay?” You asked, frowning slightly. After graduation night, Steve had seemed a little… off and you couldn’t remember anything that would have made him upset. A lot of that night was fuzzy, to be fair.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something, because we don’t keep secrets. But I’ve been worried about how things could change, and I didn’t want to risk it.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, and he let out a breath as he looked anywhere but you. “We were going to bed after graduation night. And you. You said something, something I thought you meant. But you, you don’t remember it and I don’t know if you even meant it.”

You had been quiet the ride back to Steve’s that night. Steve helped you inside, got you settled into bed and you couldn’t sleep. You and Steve talked, tiredness beginning to take over when you mentioned you had a secret. You scooted closer; Steve could feel your breath fanning over his skin. He still felt the faint feeling of your lips brushing against his shoulder with the softest kiss. Steve was surprised you couldn’t hear his racing heart and he thought he was a goner when he heard you whisper.

“I love you. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”

Then you let out an almost delirious sounding giggle and Steve brushed some of your hair from your face. Let’s talk about it in the morning and see how you feel, he had said. Will still love you in the morning, you had insisted. The next morning though, there were no confessions of love. Just groaning over a headache and ‘five more minutes’ in bed.

“You said you loved me,” Steve said and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“It’s okay if you don’t-“

“I need to know if you were serious-“ You and Steve stared at each other for a minute until the sound of a scream startled both of you and you reached over to turn the radio down.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while,” you admitted. “I was scared, okay? Scared you didn’t feel the same, scared I’d fuck up our friendship and-“ This time you were interrupted by Steve’s lips brushing against yours. After a second of freezing, you kissed him back, your hands moving to cup his face.

Steve shivered as your thumb rubbed his cheekbone and you broke apart a moment later, noses brushing against each other. “Guess that answers that, huh?”

“Guess so.” You went in for another kiss. And another, and another. You only pulled apart when you needed to breathe, and Steve couldn’t stop staring at your kiss bitten lips. When he finally met your gaze again, there was a fondness in there you hadn’t truly noticed before.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” Steve asked and you smiled as you nodded. “Great. Perfect.”

“Perfect.” You echoed. You leaned over the center console, ignoring the slight ache in your hip to rest your head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s hand moved to rest on your thigh and you smiled.

“I love you. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” Steve whispered in your ear, lips curled into a smirk and you slapped his chest.

“I was drunk!” The sound of your laughter was music to Steve’s ears and he pulled you closer, feeling happier than he had in ages. Maybe Robin was right; he had been a dingus. But he had ended up with you in the end, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[artiststarme]

Sometimes Sorry Isn't Enough

Sometimes Steve wondered how he was still alive. What made him more deserving of life than Barb? He kept putting his life on the line and yet he scraped by with only scars as evidence. He’d fought the demodogs and the mindflayer. He’d thrown Molotov cocktails at Vecna/Henry/One’s face. He’d been prepared to die every single time. So why was he still here?

He wished he’d chosen to jump off the quarry’s cliff when he found out that his parents had left him behind for good. Wished that he hadn’t been too quick for the demodogs to catch in the junkyard. He wished that he’d taken Max’s place in the face of Vecna’s curse. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be around anymore.

He loved his friends, loved Robin and Eddie in particular, but it wasn’t enough. Robin had better things to do than deal with his trauma that he’d roped her into without her consent. If it weren’t for him being so desperate and needy for attention, she would never have been involved with the Upside Down. She wouldn’t have been psychologically tortured by the Russians or exposed to the Hell that existed beneath them. She’d be better off without him.

And Eddie. Poor Eddie didn’t deserve any of this either. He was simply the town’s scapegoat that was at the wrong place at the wrong time and now his life was forever changed because of it. His body was marred in scars where the bats mauled him, eerily similar to the ones that existed in Steve’s flesh. Steve should’ve done more to protect him instead of forcing him to play decoy and then his friend afterwards.

Instead of forcing his problems on the Party once again, Steve stewed by himself in his empty crypt of a home. The house was dark, the air was cold, and his heart was heavy. He poured pain pills, originally prescribed to deal with his horrific migraines, into his hands and took a deep breath. Unlike all those other times, he wouldn’t escape death again. As he swallowed pill after pill, his heart sank deeper. It was better this way.

He was unconscious by the time Robin arrived, a feeling of proud terror driving her away from her family dinner and to Steve’s side. He was unconscious when Eddie gave him CPR and mouth to mouth, imagining their first kiss would be much different than it actually was. He was on the verge of life and death by the time Hopper speedily pulled into his driveway and threw him in the ranger before the ambulance could even arrive to take him to the hospital, begging him the entire way to open his eyes.

When he woke up to hospital smells and bright lights, he initially felt disappointed. He’d failed once again to leave the wretched world that never seemed to want him. But when he looked around, he felt a spark of hope in his chest. Hopper, Eleven, Robin, Eddie, and Dustin were in various chairs and cots scattered throughout the room. Eddie was curled into a ball by his feet on the bed while Robin was pressed against his side, her head on his chest as if she was waiting subconsciously to hear each beat of his heart. Hopper was sat in a chair by his bedside, his fingers loosely gripping the bed frame. Eleven was on the window’s ledge, her brow furrowed like the world was on her shoulders still. And Dustin. He was on a cot right beside Steve’s bed, his body facing him and his hand wrapped around his wrist.

Steve felt guilt flood him. He always felt like he was surviving on luck alone, deserving to die and never quite doing so. He didn’t realize that he was surviving off the love of his friends, his family, and that they were doing the same. It would take awhile to change his way of thinking and for him to start appreciating the life he had but he would get there eventually. Especially with his best friend, his boyfriend, his little brother and sister, and Hopper by his side.

[hbyrde36]

Midsummer Nights (a.k.a Summer Camp Fic)

It's finally here! This one has been percolating for a while, and I'm so glad to have the start of the story written and out there. Updates might be a little sporadic until my Steddie big bang is complete, but I'm so excited to finally give this fic some attention!

WC: 3154 | R: Explicit (for eventual smut) | Ch 1/? | AO3

Chapter 1

Steve had been a camper at Sunset Lake since almost before he could remember. 

He was seven that first summer, and hadn’t spent more than a night away from his own bed before, for sleepovers with family or childhood friends. 

Regardless, his parents didn’t hesitate to dump him off in the middle of nowhere upstate for the full eight weeks the camp ran, with total strangers, many of whom were hardly more than kids themselves, the second he was old enough to attend. From then on, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington spent their own summers partying it up at the country club, pretending they didn’t have a son. 

It used to hurt, having the fact that they didn’t give a shit about him shoved so blatantly in his face. When he was still young and hopeful he would wait patiently by the front gates every visitor’s day, hoping that the next car full of visiting parents and family would be for him. 

It never was.

And by the time he turned eleven, he had stopped waiting. 

He also stopped signing up for activities that he had chosen only to impress his dad, like tennis, basketball, rock climbing—even if he was good at them—and instead began to fill his days with art, theater, and music. Anything that caught his interest, even if he was terrible at it. 

Suddenly he lived for those eight weeks of summer that used to leave him feeling so lonely and unloved. Knowing it was the one place, the one time of year, where he could be the most himself. And he was too busy with performances and showing off the projects he’d completed on visitor’s days to think too much about the fact that no one ever came to see him. 

That was how he met Robin, his best friend and platonic soulmate. They were twelve and had both auditioned for roles in Shakespeare in the Summer, a series of famous scenes from the playwright's works, a pet project of the counselor who ran the theater department meant to be the big final show at the end of camp that year. They got the roles of Romeo and Juliet, respectively. 

As they rehearsed he developed a very small, but still very embarrassing crush on his co-star and eventually confessed, knowing he would feel guilty about kissing her if she didn’t know how he felt. 

Robin broke it to him gently, explaining that while she’d grown to like him a lot, as a friend, over the time they’d been working on their scene together, he just wasn’t her type. 

The last bit was said with a particular significance, but Steve, oblivious to what she was so subtly trying to convey, had protested that he was everyone’s type. She’d rolled her eyes and given him a fond, if exasperated, smile, and after swearing him to secrecy, put it in plain terms he could understand. 

She was a lesbian. 

Robin liked girls, exclusively, and her tastes ran long in soft skin, cherry red lips, and blonde ponytails—all of which Steve, for better or worse, lacked.

It was the 90’s, and the world was slowly changing, so it wasn't as if Steve had never heard of gay people before… it's just that he had never met one in real life. He accepted her immediately, his crush gone in a flash like it had never existed, and felt a kinship with her snap into place that he didn’t quite understand at the time, but was so obvious looking back. 

In the end they faked the kiss. Steve grabbed Robin’s face with both hands and all the faux passion he could muster, slipping his thumbs between their lips at the last second to keep them from crossing that particular line, and she had trusted him to do it. 

They were inseparable from that day forward. 

As promised, he kept her secret, and exactly one year later after coming to terms with a few realizations of his own—namely that he wasn’t as straight as he assumed, that in fact, he wasn’t sure he actually liked girls at all—when he confessed a secret of his own as they walked along the edge of the lake before curfew, he knew she would do the same for him.

This summer they were eighteen, part of the graduating class of 1999, on the brink of college, and finally old enough to be hired as full fledged counselors with paychecks and days off and everything. 

Not that it paid much, but Steve wasn’t in it for the money. He was in it for the love of the place. Sunset Lake Camp had become a second home to him over the last decade of his life, his real home, and the people there like family. There were always a few new faces that came and went, but most of the kids and staff alike came back year after year like him.

Robin was mainly in it for Steve, excited at the prospect of getting to spend the entire Summer with him for once instead of the single session, two short weeks, she was used to—all her folks had been able to afford each year growing up. 

It was poised to be the best summer of Steve’s life. 

Then he met Eddie. 

Pre-camp was exactly what it sounded like. A full week of cleaning, painting, maintenance, and general setting up of the place before the first crop of kids was set to arrive. It wasn’t mandatory for the staff, and some counselors wouldn’t even arrive until the day before the first session began, but it did come with an extra paycheck and the opportunity to get out of his parents house that much sooner. 

Steve was so in.

And naturally, that meant Robin was too.

They both arrived mid afternoon. Steve had driven himself in his beloved second hand BMW all the way from Hawkins, his excitement mounting as the scenery changed, flat boring highways finally giving way to lush green rolling hills and mountains, the roads eventually going from asphalt, to crushed stone, to dirt as he turned onto camp property and made his way to the employee parking lot. Robin arrived just after, her parents' car rolling to a stop next to his while he was still unloading his duffel bags from the trunk.  

Steve had offered to pick her up on his way so they could ride in together, it wouldn’t have added that much time to his own trip, but Mr. and Mrs. Buckley would never give up the opportunity to see their only daughter off for the summer, no matter how old she was. They were good parents, and just plain good people.

Robin was horribly embarrassed by the sheer number of hugs they gave her, and Steve, before finally getting back in their car to head home, and he couldn’t help wondering if she knew how lucky she was. His own parents had hardly looked up from their coffee when he’d said goodbye to them that morning.

“How was the drive?” Robin asked with her face squished against Steve's chest, as he pulled her in for his own bone-crushing hug. God he fucking missed her. Emails and once a week phone calls just weren’t enough. Damn long distance fees.

“Long, boring, the usual.” He said, pulling away from her reluctantly. 

In truth he didn’t mind the long journey. It was nice getting to shut his brain off, and sing along at full volume to whatever songs had made it on American Top 40 with Casey Kasem that week.

The low rumble and put-put-put of an old engine had them both looking up, signaling the arrival of Director Hopper in his ancient pickup truck, its tires kicking up dirt and rocks no matter how slowly he drove. 

The truck rolled to a stop in front of them, and the man behind the wheel leaned out the open window to wave. “Long time no see, kids!”

“Hop,” Robin whined, “we’re not kids anymore.”

“Oh! My apologies—Miss Buckley, Mister Harrington.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Okay, now you're just being mean.”

Hopper threw his head back and laughed, before stepping out of the truck. “You know you’ll always be kids to me.”

After another round of hugs the man helped load their stuff up into the back, then helped both of them climb up on top of their piled luggage.

As the truck bumped along slowly towards the north side of the campus, where the bunks were, Hopper slid open the back window of the truck so he could shout out to them.

“Me and Joyce got two of the cabins fixed up already so you-all have someplace clean to sleep tonight. One for the women, one for the men.” Hopper’s eyes narrowed as he stared them down through his rearview mirror. He, along with almost everyone else, thought they were dating and had been for years. If he only knew how wrong he was. “Dinner is at six tonight in the dining hall, and I suggest you settle in and relax till then. The real work starts tomorrow.”

“You sure you don't need help with anything today?” Steve asked, sticking his head through the little window to make sure the older man could hear him.

“Thanks kid, but I got it covered. All that’s left today really is picking up a few international staff from the airport. I would have been on my way there already, but the flight got delayed, not due in till late tonight now.”

It was one of Steve’s favorite things about this place, getting to meet and make friends with all sorts of people from all over the world. The cultural exchange program that the camp worked with brought in support staff and counselors from other countries that wanted to come work for the summer, many of them visiting America for the very first time.

Soon enough they came to the end of the road, hooking a left through a break in the trees and came out into a huge clearing. Two giant half circles made up of small white and green buildings faced each other, with a wide open field between them where, in a week’s time, kids would be found lounging around on towels and blankets in the sun, or throwing frisbees and baseballs to each other during their free period. 

Hopper pulled over on the girl’s side, which was fair—if sexist—considering Robin had more stuff than Steve did, and got them unloaded before quickly heading off with a reminder about dinner.

Robin slid her backpack on and began to drag her small trunk up the old wooden steps of the cabin. 

Steve heaved her big duffel bag over his shoulder and moved to follow, but she spun abruptly, letting the trunk drop, slapping a hand hard against his chest before his foot even made contact with the lowest board. 

“Woah, woah, woah, where do you think you’re going?” She asked.

“Seriously? I’m just trying to help you with your stuff!” 

“Yes, seriously! You know boys aren't allowed in the girl’s cabins!” She whispered boys as though it were a dirty word.

Steve snorted. “I’m pretty sure those rules are for the campers, Rob, not us, and what could possibly happen?! There’s no two people on the planet less likely to hook up than you and me.”

“Yeah but people don’t know that, Harrington!” 

She was right. As much as camp had always been Steve's safe haven, his sexuality was still something he felt the need to hide, as did Robin. They just couldn’t be sure how their peers would react, and he wanted to believe Hopper would be accepting and open minded but what if he wasn’t? What if he fired them, or used it as an excuse not to invite them back to work next year, because parents might freak out if they knew their children were being ‘exposed to the gays’? 

Steve couldn’t lose this place, for that reason or any other. 

He tossed her bag up the short staircase and onto the porch, letting his shoulders slump in defeat.

“Don’t pout. I just don't want to get in trouble on our first day,” Robin said.

“Yeah, me either,” he agreed.

“Good. Now move along to your own bunk.” She dropped her voice down low, looking around before she spoke again, wriggling her eyebrows. “I’m sure Jonathan will be around to help you get settled in.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that stupid crush down, are you?” 

“Nope.”

“It was two years ago!” Steve hissed.

“I still say you had a chance.”

Steve sighed heavily. “Even if he wasn’t straight—” he began but Robin cut him off with a judgy stare.

“You don’t know that.” She said.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But even if he wasn't, I told you, I'm not getting in the middle of whatever on-again off-again dance he and Nancy are doing.”

Robin tilted her head from side to side. “That’s fair. She scares me.”

“Me too.”

Jonathan was, as a matter of fact, already at the men’s temporary cabin, greeting Steve with a hug and everything, and offering to help him carry his stuff inside. Not that he’d be telling Robin any of that. 

His brief crush had been nothing short of awkward. They’d known each other since they were little, Jonathan’s mom being the camp nurse, and Hopper becoming his and his brother Will’s stepfather a few years ago, and out of nowhere Steve couldn’t even have a conversation with the guy without blushing and stuttering. Thankfully, the other boy’s sad little puppy dog eyes didn’t really do anything for him anymore.

They talked a little, making the usual catching up small talk that you do with people you know well but maybe aren't truly friends with, and soon were joined by a new face, fresh off a days long road trip from California. 

Argyle greeted Steve and Jonathan like they were all long lost pals. He had the longest, shiniest hair, the most colorful wardrobe Steve had ever seen, and his smile was infectious. He also absolutely reeked of weed, and within minutes had talked Jonathan into taking a walk in the woods with him to “open their minds”. It was clear the two stoners were well on their way to becoming best friends.

Steve left them to it, knowing Robin would kill him if he showed up to dinner high and smelling of smoke. 

He chose a bed by the door and started making it up, tucking the sheets in tight and tossing his ugly plaid comforter on top. There was no point in really unpacking until they got their final bunk assignments, the night before the kids came, so after pulling out a few random t-shirts, shorts, and a bathing suit, and shoving them all into one of the cubby holes built into the walls of the cabin, Steve grabbed his discman and headphones and went to lay out in the sun. 

It was late, well past midnight and Steve had been tossing and turning for the last several hours. He never slept well on the first night of camp, the quiet always taking a little time for him to get used to, and It was no wonder he heard the soft footfalls of someone walking up the steps of the cabin.

The door opened slowly, revealing a figure painted in silhouette by moonlight. A riot of wild hair, and a guitar case slung across the boy’s back were all Steve could make out at first through his barely slitted eyelids. 

He watched, careful not to move too much and give away that he was awake as the boy quietly closed the door behind himself, and tiptoed further into the cabin, tossing his stuff down beside the bunk right next to Steve’s. It meant Steve had a perfect view of the newcomer’s backside as he bent to slide his guitar under the mattress frame and unzipped his bag. He straightened with an arm full of linens and hastily made up the bed, not even tucking the bottom corners of his fitted sheet in before throwing a quilt over the whole thing and calling it done, and began to undress. 

Steve swallowed hard, knowing he should probably look away now, or at least close his eyes, if for no other reason than to put on a better show of being asleep in case the other boy’s gaze swung his way, but he was enthralled.

The unfamiliar figure was still blanketed in shadow, but stood close enough now that Steve could make out a pair of huge sparkling dark eyes, brown he assumed, though the night had a way of stealing all the color from the world, to go with the boy’s even darker curls. A rounded nose and full pouty lips made up the rest of a face that would, Steve was fairly certain, now and forever haunt his dreams, as well as his every waking thought. 

He wanted to scream. 

He’d never felt so drawn to someone at first sight before. How much worse would it be once he saw this vision of beauty in daylight?

Powerless to resist the urge, Steve let his gaze roam down past the curve of the other boy’s jaw, eyes drinking in whatever details they could. The bob of an adams apple as he swallowed, the outline of his collarbones, black and gray markings on his chest and arms—tattoos that Steve couldn’t quite make out the shapes of. A trail of dark hair ran from his navel to the top of his pants, stark and inviting against pale white skin.

The boy reached for the button on his jeans and Steve did look away then. It was one thing to see the same skin that might be on display when someone took their top off down by the lake or at the pool, but another to ogle someone below the belt when they didn’t even know they were being watched.

Second passed and a dull thump had Steve snapping his eyes back open, grateful the other boy still had his boxers on at least, so he didn’t feel like too much of a creep. 

“Bollocks,” the stranger cursed softly, hopping on one foot for a second as he sucked air between his teeth, nursing a stubbed toe.

Steve’s stomach flipped at the sound of his voice.

International, right. He had an accent. Of course he did, obviously, Steve just hadn’t thought—

Why was that so hot?

He groaned internally, he hadn’t even properly seen the guy’s face yet and he was already absolutely fucked. 

Finally, mercifully, the other boy climbed into bed, yawning as he pulled the quilt up over his head, turning to face the other way.

And it was to the sound of this intriguing stranger’s breath that Steve finally drifted away into a fitful sleep.

Steve's Summer Mix Eddie's Summer Mix

Thanks as always to the lovely @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

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Fic taglist (open):

[urhoneycombwitch]

U just haaaaad to go and make another eddie for me to be feral over didn’t you? I need to know everything about roommate eddie pls 🤲🏻

IM IN LOVE W HIM TOO. thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak on it bc I have an origin story for roommate!Eddie with nowhere to go… until now 😈 here’s my other blurb of him btw linking in case others wanna see!! 🫶

so in this nebulous roommates!au, I’m imagining you’re besties with Robin. Eddie is besties with Steve. and of course since Robin and Steve are Ultimate Besties (in every world. in every universe.) they plot to get their respective Others together somehow. like, you’re offbeat and fun and so is Eddie!! should work out great right?

wrong. u and Eddie just don’t hit it off. you think he’s too loud and brash and godforbid he gets more than one beer in him ‘cuz he’ll be pulling you to the dance floor or making his own and embarrassing the everloving shit out of you. and he thinks you need to loosen up and get out of your head, which he decides is his new job that he takes VERY seriously.

eventually Steve and Robin stop trying to force it and yours and Eddie’s relationship just turns into casual frenemies. (a la Harry Met Sally) like, ah yes, You Again. the best friend of my best friend’s best friend 😒 you’ll hang out casually at various house parties and bars but always with a buffer, otherwise you’ll be at each other’s necks with (mostly) playful arguments and hot debates.

and it seems CRAZY at first that you’re gonna live in the same space but holy shit rent is so expensive in the Big City where you all moved to and it mind as well be with someone you know. you’re really worried about the set up but Eddie turns out to be real responsible with monthly payments and has a general respect for shared spaces (his own room is a black hole and it baffles you that he manages to have so many successful one night stands in that hell pit but you’re never in there so who cares.) plus it helps to have a man around fr, to spook the landlord into doing his job 👹 and also to fix things! and to give you lifts to work! and share snack duty! you find a rhythm and it’s great.

the night that he falls for you tho? you’re at group karaoke 3-shots deep and pick a cheesy Beatles song just to piss him off. simpering over your shoulder while you croon into the microphone, giving him a one-man-show that you hope triggers an earworm and irritates for days to come 💖 but actually he’s gripping his beer for dear life on the nearby barstool getting hit with the sickening realization of being in love. like oh fuck, this is bad. I cannot be falling for my pal’s pal. whom I also live with. what a fucking mess.

the night you fall for him? a second date goes sideways and you have no one else to call but Eddie. he fully leaves the solo gig he was about to play because you sounded so upset over the phone (doesn’t tell u that, tho!) and he could be a total asshole about it when he picks you up on the street corner but he absolutely isn’t. chews out your date, tho, with a viciousness that both delights and scares you. makes you a proper meal at home and wraps a strong arm around you on the couch and watches your favorite romcom and laughs at all the parts you laugh at. and you’re pressed up all close, wheels spinning in ur brain, unknowingly going through the exact same thought process Eddie had about a month earlier. Oh No. He’s My Bestie. Whom I Live With. This Cannot Possibly End Well.

aaaaand that about brings us up to canon speed, thus far! you and Eddie date around and have sex in your shared apartment but NOT with each other and if sometimes you get off to the sounds he makes when he’s fucking someone else and if sometimes he gets off to the noises of you in the shower well … no one’s business 🙂‍↔️

like why are u even asking about something soooo personal. like Robin you don’t get it it’s not like that I just wanna be near him all the time. that’s normal and what friends do. no, Steve, you’re not listening, we look at each other’s nudes as buddies. sorry you don’t understand how friendships work 🙄

(Robin and Steve have to set up weekly debriefs to compare notes and make sure they’re not going fucking crazy)

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

So… I just realized I never explained the title? It’s from Eddie’s favorite song, “I Will Always Love You”. If y’all got that, kudos! If not, congrats, you’re just like me! 😂

Part 1 | . . . | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23

They leave the bathroom together, Eddie bowing dramatically as he lets Steve exit first, pulling a chuckle from Steve.

His eyes find Robin as soon as they walk into the living room. He asks a silent question with his eyes—Does she know?—and gets a silent answer: No. He sighs and turns to his sister, who is already looking at him. “Can we talk?” He asks, but she’s already standing and walking towards him.

She ruffles his hair with a familiar hand, poking his arm with her other hand as she grins at him. “Sure thing, bud. Lead the way.”

Steve pauses to sigh at Robin. “Can you brainstorm? Try to figure out how?”

Robin nods seriously. “I’ll fill them in.”

Steve nods and lets himself be led away.

As soon as they’re away from the rest, tucked away in a little side room, Alli hits him with a serious look. “What’s going on, bud? I know what you look like when you cry.” She tugs a piece of his hair and gives him a sad sort of smile.

He tries to smile, but it crumples immediately. “Sorry,” he whispers, trying not to cry.

He fails at that, too, when Alli tuts and pulls him into a hug. “It’s alright, bubba,” she murmurs. She’s taller than him, and it brings him right back to being five years old, scraping his knee outside and running to her because he knew she’d console him.

A sob tears out of his throat, and he hides his face in her neck, waiting for the tears to abate again.

Eventually they do, and he pulls back to wipe at his face, smiling at Alli when she hands him a tissue. “Sorry,” he murmurs again.

She just rolls her eyes and pokes his arm again. “Quit apologizing,” she says. “Now, what’s going on? How do I help?”

He stares at her for a moment. “I love you.”

She softens. “I love you too, bubba, but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Yeah.” He takes a breath, rakes a hand through his hair. “So this is gonna sound really crazy, but I’m from four years in the future. Or I think I am. Now I’m not sure, because you’re here.”

She frowns. “Do I move, or something?”

“No. Alli…” he sighs again, scrubs a hand down his face. “You-” he swallows down tears. “You died when I was six, on a girls’ trip to Indy.”

She frowns. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“I know.” Another sigh. He’s been doing that a lot lately, he absently thinks. “That’s why I asked Robin to figure it out.”

Alli nodded. “Your girlfriend, right? Or- no, that’s Nancy—oh, the future—”

“No,” he interrupts. Can’t help the smile. “Nancy and I… something happens, in the future, in the past, and, uh. I broke up with her?”

Alli blinks. Her expression is begging for clarification, so he sighs. “In a week she calls me—and my love for her—bullshit at a party. I don’t know how much longer it is after that, but she and Jonathan Byers hook up while we’re still technically dating.”

Alli’s eyes narrow, turn calculating. “And to think I-”

“Alli,” he pleads. “It’s okay. She didn’t do anything yet, it’s all in the future, remember? But I had four years to think on it and I realized we were never really it for each other, it was just comfortable, you know?”

Alli nods. “So… is Robin it for you?”

Steve chuckles. “In a different way, yeah. She’s my best friend in the entire world. Knows more about me than anyone else. And I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do anything for me, but… we’re not together. And we’re never gonna get together, either. Neither of us want that.”

She nods. “But you’ve found the person who’s it for you?”

Steve bites his lip. “Maybe.”

A familiar gleam appears in her eye: the one she used to get when she’d sneak him a cookie too close to dinner time. “Oh?”

Steve worries at his lip. “Promise not to hate me?”

“I could never,” she says immediately.

“Alli,” he murmurs. Hates how his voice is shaking. “I need you to promise me, please.”

She stoops to look him in the eye. “I promise,” she says seriously. “I could never hate you, Steve.”

He takes a breath, nods. “Out there right now. Um.” Another breath. “His name is Eddie.”

She grins at him. “I met him. Damn, bubba, you have a type, huh?”

Steve blushes scarlet. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but leans toward her when she tugs him into a hug, hums when her lips press to the top of his head.

“Hey.”

He lifts his head. “Yeah?”

“You know my friend Cassidy?”

Steve narrows his eyes in thought, then nods. “Yeah, you’ve known her forever.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip on her smile, nods.

“Oh,” he whispers, then begins to laugh. “What are the odds?”

“What are the odds indeed,” she laughs.

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[scoops-aboy86]

🧠🪱Wiggly Wednesday🪱🧠

No one tagged me, I just had a brain worm on account of the @softsteddieseptember prompt “cheesy pickup lines” for this week. But this isn’t really an entry, just an outline that I don’t have the brainpower for right now. 

Steve is an actor who always gets what (who) he wants. He’s kind of been a fuckboy about it in the past, but his best friend and frequent co-star Robin is a good influence on him, helped him come to terms with and come out as bisexual and everything. 

Eddie is a computer programmer with a part time job as a barista, and has what he definitely feels is the misfortune to make Steve’s ridiculously customized latte. 

The latte isn’t foamy enough or something. Actually, it’s just that Steve has taken an interest and wants to get to know the cute barista, likes that Eddie doesn’t even recognize him from his movies at first. 

Eddie says something about his computer programming work, and Steve laughs and calls him a nerd, which does not go over well. 

Steve comes back most days whenever he’s in town, trying to salvage it, but Eddie is firmly convinced it’s unsalvageable, a nonstarter in the first place. No matter how disappointed he always feels on the days Steve doesn’t show, or how much he ends up telling Steve about his life in between rejections.

At some point Robin shows up at the cafe to let Eddie know she’s sorry he has to put up with her hopeless bff’s low-key stalking and that she’s trying to talk Steve into a long filming project in Europe to chill out, so he’ll soon be out of Eddie’s hair. 

Something something, idk, maybe Steve talked about Eddie to Dustin, who works in computers or something and needs a new programmer. Dustin reaches out to offer an interview while Steve is off incommunicado on set, totally Dustin’s own idea, Steve is just the reason he knows how to find the guy. Eddie gets the job purely on merit from that point and gets to quit working at the cafe, all his money problems are now solved. 

By the time Steve gets back, Eddie is close with Dustin and the rest of the kids, Hellfire Club style. They all think he’s the coolest. Also, they end up telling him a bunch of stories about Steve and how he used to be kind of a douchebag but has since grown into a really good dude. And even more recently (which Eddie eventually realizes means since he and Steve first met) has cooled it on dating around and ended up in a lot fewer gossip mags and tabloids, which has generally been pretty good for his mental health. 

Steve comes by one of their game nights and is caught completely unaware off guard. But he takes Eddie aside and apologizes for hanging around so much before. 

Eddie forgives him. Really, the worst Steve ever did was greet him with increasingly silly pickup lines and offer to show him a good time, only to leave with a shrug and his latte when Eddie turned him down again. Always tipped everyone at the cafe well, not just Eddie, and never made him feel like he expected anything because of it.

Steve points out that (*gestures the Party*) most of his favorite people are nerds, he’d just put his foot in his mouth like a dumbass that first day. (He does not mention that he used to get really defensive when people noticed/called him out on that, he’s come so far! Robin is so proud, even though he’s still definitely a dingus.)

Anyway, they start to part on good terms. Just before heading out, though Steve turns with a huge grin that Eddie recognizes and says, “Hey, since we’re starting off on a different foot now, let me introduce myself… My name is Microsoft. Can I crash at your place tonight?” 

Eddie stares at him, then laughs so hard that his face hurts. 

He finally takes Steve up on that date. 

Did I write all that up for the cheesy pickup punchline? Absolutely.

Do I wanna write the actual fic? Nah. So it’s up for grabs if anyone else wants to, just tag me so I can read it someday.

Tagging… idk, my permanent tag list I guess. 😛 I’m stuck in a car for 6 more hours (out of 11), gotta get this pasted in before I lose reception again.

@hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[mara-and-its-the-same]

This one is for my very darling friend @loving-and-dreaming, my first mutual, and a very wonderful friend <3 HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY

Steve Harrington x reader, no indicators or pronouns. Reader does not like their birthday but steve helps them have a good one this year, no warnings <3

1.9k

Having only been with Steve Harrington for a little less than half a year, birthdays haven’t really come up yet. It was easy to skirt around the topic since the one time he asked directly was at Dustin’s party and with all the commotion you could dodge it with just saying the month and feigning distraction by the cake Claudia put out. 

Since your 15th birthday they’ve all been a little bit of a let down. Either other commitments get in the way of your friends celebrating with you, and other family birthdays being right around it distracted them too. Even if last year’s before you met Steve and were introduced to the group was a little better than usual, it wasn’t exactly good. It’s easy to be tempted by optimism, seeing how easy it is for him to be so caring, thinking maybe he’d give you some kind of celebration, the kind you’ve been waiting for since you were a teenager. Imagining what it’d be like to say “Did I forget to tell you my birthday’s next month?” and hear something like “No way, do you want to go out? Have people over?” and then tell him every dream birthday celebration you can remember coming up with until you realized that they’d probably never come true. AND THEN HOW HE’D MAKE THEM COME TRUE. Because you know him by now and you know that he absolutely would, but there’s always the underlying assumption that it’d end up like it does every year and to give yourself hope like that would just be inviting more room to be let down. 

With each day that passes only leaves less time to tell him…at least there’s still his birthday…

***

“Are you ready, babe?” Steve called from the kitchen thinking you’re still in your bedroom getting your jewelry on.

“Yeah, just getting my shoes on!” You yelled from the front hall. When you stood up to check through your purse and make sure everything is in it, you noticed your wallet was missing. “Steve! Can you see if my wallet’s on the counter?”

“Yeah, it’s right here.” He noticed it was left open and saw your driver's license through the clear slot. Then he noticed the first digit of your birthdate, then the day, then he flushed with panic thinking that you had to have told him and he just forgot that your birthday is literally tomorrow. In a split second of deliberation, he decided that to ask about it right then would be a horrific moment of self incrimination, and that the very second he got home he’d try as hard as he could to make the day special for you.

***

There was hardly a wait at the restaurant, only having to wait for a few minutes in the foyer before the hostess came to get you. “Hey, um, would you give me just a second? I gotta go make a call real quick.”

“Yeah– yeah, that’s ok.” You were left watching the goldfish floating through the blue fluorescent lights of their tank while Steve went to the payphone behind the coat closet. You guys don’t have birthdays, do you? You’re fish…

“All good.” He came back around the corner and slid into the seat next to you, even leaning in to kiss your jaw, too.

“Who’d you call?”

“Hm?”

“You have secrets now, Mr. Harrington?”

“Only the good kind.”

“Hmmm, well that’s debatable,” you lolled your neck so you could look at him out of the corner of your eye, he tilted his head and cocked a brow. “A good kind of secret?”

“There’s nice secrets as long as they’re eventually not secrets.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but were cut short by the hostess. “If you’ll follow me please?”

***

“We’ll go back to your place, right?” Steve asked you as he got into the driver’s seat. 

“You don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“Uhhh,” he feigned looking at his watch, “not for 14 hours. I can just drop you off if you wanted, too?”

“If you think you can make it on time?”

“I think I’ll make it.” He made the definitive turn between your house and his and it only made a few minutes difference. 

***

You woke up with a flutter of lashes and a deep breath filling all of your lungs from your place cuddled next to Steve on your bed. “Good morning,” you smiled up at him and curled deeper, pulling the duvet back over your shoulders again. 

“Good morning,” he repeated and kissed your hairline just shy of your forehead. “And happy birthday.”

“What?” It sounded breathy and a little pained in a way that frightened him.

“Is it not–?”

“No, no it is. I just didn’t know you knew.” You pushed up from the bed and away from his side. 

“Was I not supposed to?” 

“No, no, it’s good, it’s a good thing. I just don’t like to make a big deal of it.”

“You don’t want to do anything today?”

“I would like us to go about it as we would any other day.”

“Did something happen? Like did something happen on your birthday to make you not want to celebrate it?”

You settled back in but laid on your back next to him instead of on him, “Not really, but nothing especially good has happened either.”

“At all.”

“Steve, it’s been years since I had a good birthday. I don’t like anticipating anything.”

“So you didn’t tell me it was your birthday because you didn’t think it’d be good?”

“It sounds really terrible when you put it like that.”

“Cus it is a little bit.” Your look was more apologetic than you realized. “But I’m not gonna be too mad at you because it’s your birthday.”

“No, you should be mad at me. Just let it be a regular day, really I’m so ok with it. I’m used to it that way.”

“I’m not going to be mad at you, I don’t want to be mad at you. What I want is to do something nice for you on the one day in the whole year that’s just supposed to be focused on you.”

“There’s so many more important days, I promise you I’m really ok with just letting it be like any other day.” 

“So you don’t want a present?” The way he said it made it obvious that he definitely had a present for you already.

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Well, if you got one already I won’t refuse.”

“I’ll be right back.” As soon as he left the bed a rush of cool air flooded your covers and you rolled over into the warmth of the space he left. “Ok, bed hogger, open it.”

“I’m not a bed hogger. It’s my bed.” He sat on the edge to watch as you ripped off the top of the envelope. “When did you do all this?” “I had Robin run it over last night, I thought she’d do a better job at picking a card than Eddie would.”

“While I was asleep you were making people run house calls to my apartment?”

“Just open the card.”

“Ok, ok,” The front cover was a pink and white speckled patterned moment with an oval in the center showcasing a bouquet of flowers in generic shades of pink. The inside was just as adorable, but more in sentiment than it was in looks.

From ink cover to cover you read through his message to you, even if it was a little confusing with the way he wrote around the little pre printed message in the center of the second page rather than over it. 

I’m not always the best with words, and I don’t think I’m any better at this hour, but I need you to know that I love you so much. I’m so grateful that I get to know you, and everything about you, and that I get to love you and all of those things. You’ve given me so much and I hope I can return that feeling. I want to give you the world. Happy Birthday.

Love, 

Steve

The second half was covered in a scramble of half asleep drawings; flowers, little puppies, one of the both of you as stick figures. He’s too precious.

“Thank you so much, honey.” Fit to cry you sat up to ask for a hug before too many feelings overtook you. 

“And you’ll get your real present later.”

“What’s later?”

“When we have a totally normal, preplanned gathering at my place. That thing, been in the calendar for weeks now.”

“I don’t think it has been.”

“Well it’s there now, isn’t it? My place? 7?”

“You have work ‘til 8.”

“It’d probably be 8:30 with the way Keith has been going, but no I called in a favor with him last night, I’m leaving early.”

“You need to stop calling in favors for me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“If you insist.”

***

“Mmmm, go fish.”

“How long do you think this game is gonna go on?” You sat forward on the couch to rest your chin on Steve’s shoulder. The length of the evening getting to you now that someone had the bright idea to play go fish with two decks. 

“Has to be at least an hour. You gotta perk up, we haven’t even had cake yet, you still got all your presents from the kids to open.”

“I’ll see what I can muster. Can you play for me? I want to go hug Robin.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

“Thank you, my love.” You kissed his jaw, closer to his neck though it was all you could reach, as you handed him the cards. Robin brought her arm around you before you even fully sat down. With your head resting on her shoulder you got to look around at all the people who came here to show you how much they love you. Even the kids scrounged together what they could to give you a sweet gift, take it as you will that it was a semi-creepy porcelain figurine from the antique store, maybe it makes it better that El was the one that told you they all saw it and immediately thought of you, as strangely humanoid the little animals look. 

The game went faster when you were half asleep on Robin’s shoulder, but you were easily woken up by the arguments that ensued after the first “No way you won!”

“Alright dickheads, cake in the kitchen! Now.” Steve had his hands on his hips as he ordered the kids to stop fighting the best way he knew how, through food. 

“You’ve gotta be nicer to them,” he brought you into his side as you walked into the kitchen together.

“I will when they earn it.”

“Better than nothing.”

“Was this a good birthday?”

“Better than most, yes.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, really. But you set a high bar for next year.”

“With one day's notice? You bet it’s higher for next year.”