#like no one else is there steve is just gone

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the Third Annual Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair.

Sometimes Dreams Change

Prompt: "There’s no rule against just looking!" | Word Count: 4930 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Lingering Upside Down Trauma, Mentions of Therapy | Tags: Future Fic, Thanksgiving, Old Friends, Reconnecting, Friends to Lovers, Personal Growth, Found Family, Non-Famous Corroded Coffin, Platonic Stobin, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Also right here on ao3.

"You're staring," Wayne says.

"What?" Eddie asks, but he's still focusing on the action happening across the room. Steve's carving the turkey at the kitchen counter, Robin flitting around, giving what Eddie is sure is unnecessary, and nearly certainly unhelpful, feedback.

"You're staring," Wayne repeats, nudging Eddie in the ribs.

Eddie jerks his head, gaze changing directions.

"There's no rule against just looking!" Eddie snaps, and Wayne just keeps staring at him, unimpressed.

This is stupid. 

Steve Harrington ran into them at the Big Buy, invited them to Thanksgiving dinner, and now Eddie is looking at his handsome ass in a pair of very well tailored khakis and a dark teal sweater, carving a fucking turkey that he cooked himself. This shouldn't work for Eddie, but it is.

He's matured. He's a goddamn man. He looks it, sounds it, and by this house, lives it.

The house is his now, his parents moving onwards and upwards, apparently. Leaving Hawkins for good. Lots of people did, though, after that spring of '86. Eddie being one of the first out the door. But looking around, Steve has remodeled this house into a home, something that looks warm and lived in, unlike it did back when Steve was a teen. It clearly has the fingerprints of Steve and Robin all over it, and it's for the better.

In a world where Eddie is still living out of his duffel bag, and spending his nights in crowded smoky bars, Steve has gone and become a real grown up. Who'd have thought? 

When Eddie thinks of Steve, of Robin, they are still frozen as they were that summer they all spent together healing. 

But that's not the truth of it, not anymore. No, now Steve's carving a turkey. Eddie's not sure he'd even be trusted with a paring knife.

He isn't even sure of the last time he's had an actual turkey for Thanksgiving that didn't come pre-sliced on a sandwich from a gas station. He's definitely never cooked one.

Gareth and Mama Jones are at the table, chit-chatting, and it's just the six of them. Apparently, Robin had demanded a turkey, and the only one they had left was too big for two people, so the invite to Eddie and Wayne ended up being extended to Gareth and his mom, too. 

And here they are. A hodgepodge of pairings that didn't really have anywhere else to be for the holiday.

Eddie hadn't even laid eyes on Steve Harrington since the band fled town, Eddie freshly healed from his wounds after his week in hell. And now they're spending the holiday together. It makes no sense.

The band hasn't made it big, but they've made it work. They play regularly, make enough cash to get by, and that's more than he'd ever expected, honestly. They're serviceable musicians that have gotten more polished with practice and time, but they're not good enough to be stars, that's for damn sure. But the gigs are fun, and pay the bills, at least some of the time, so they've kept at it just because they still love to do it.

Eddie tears his eyes away from Steve before Wayne gives him more shit, and goes to sit next to Gareth, his back to the kitchen so he'll stop gawking.

It's just good to see old friends, that's all.

After dinner, they sit around a catch up, and Eddie has honed in on something that he doesn't like. Not at all.

Getting Wayne alone, he stares him down.

"What?" Wayne drawls.

"Don't what me," Eddie hisses.

Wayne laughs, and Eddie has to nip this in the bud.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, yanking on Wayne's arm, fingers digging into the plaid sleeve of his shirt.

"What are you on about, kid?" Wayne asks, playing dumb, and Eddie gives him the best version of stink-eye that he can muster.

"That's his mom," Eddie bemoans, and Wayne laughs.

"I'm just being friendly. You're reaching."

Eddie is not reaching. Wayne doesn't sit around and laugh like a loon, but he's damn well been doing it all afternoon. He is not hitting on Mama Jones. That's…that's against the law. Several, probably.

"Don't," Eddie warns.

"You could be brothers," Wayne says, goading Eddie, and Eddie takes the bait. He always does. 

"Stop it. Right now. Or I'm telling."

Wayne laughs, "Telling who? My mother? She's been dead for a while, kid. Sorry about that."

Eddie huffs out an annoyed breath, "I'm gonna go smoke. You mind your own goddamn business, old man. Or I'll tell Gareth, and well, those will be your consequences to deal with."

It's cool outside, not really cold, but definitely breezy. Eddie pulls his jacket tighter to his body. He lights a cigarette, and takes a deep breath, looking over at the winterized pool and the woods beyond.

It's weird being home in Hawkins, and even stranger being at Steve Harrington's house. He's stayed away for nearly a decade, not really ready to face the town that would have been happier to see him strung up in the town square, innocent or not.

"Eddie Munson," Steve says from somewhere behind him, and Eddie jumps, then laughs.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie responds, offering his hand. Steve takes it, giving it a firm shake and it feels weird. They aren't handshake guys. 

"That's me," Steve says, "nice to meet you."

Eddie laughs, at least Steve thinks the handshake was as ridiculous as Eddie does.

"Thanks for inviting us, man. It was really good. I had no idea you could cook a turkey."

Steve smiles, "Well, honestly, me either. I just found a cookbook in the cabinet and winged it. Luckily I didn't burn the house down or anything."

And then Steve laughs. 

Somehow, Steve Harrington at thirty-two is even more gorgeous than he was at twenty. Life is truly unfair. Eddie's not sure how this man isn't married with the half dozen kids that he'd once wanted. But he looks happy, settled. His face seems free of the trauma they once shared, while Eddie feels forever destined to be treading water. 

He wishes he had the secret to that, because out of the blue he'll still have nightmares. Gareth has to wake him up, and reassure him he's fine, that everything's fine, that it's not real.

But it was real. He lived it. 

And it has fucked him up, irreparably.

"Catch me up, tell me everything," Steve says, hand snaking out and stealing his cigarette, taking a long drag. Eddie's body thrums with a want that he hasn't felt in a good long while.

"Don't tell Robin," Steve says with a wink, handing the cigarette back and then looks at Eddie expectantly. Eddie really doesn't have a lot to tell.

"Well, we're on the road. We get gigs, solid work, but it's not like we're gonna break into the mainstream anytime soon. Anytime at all, honestly."

"But you enjoy it? The gigs? The travel?" Steve asks, and isn't that a string of loaded questions.

"Yes," Eddie says, "most of the time."

Steve cocks his head to the side, like a curious dog, "And the other times?"

"It's rough, sometimes. Still. Always." 

"What would it take for you to feel better on the road more often?" Steve asks.

Fuck if Eddie knows. If he did, he'd already be doing it. He just shrugs.

"What kind of support system do you have while you're away from home?"

Eddie doesn't really have a home, but that's a can of worms he's definitely not cracking open.

"Um, Wayne's always a phone call away? And the guys are there," he says, then adds, "Gareth has made it his life's purpose to make sure I'm not alone for longer than five minutes. Makes bathroom time fun, let me tell you."

Then he feels his face flushing. He's rambling. He tried to make it seem like it's a joke, but it's not. Not really. He just doesn't know why he's admitting to any of this. It's like Steve turned on a faucet and now Eddie's leaking out all his private business, full-flow.

"I'm almost never alone. By design," Eddie adds.

That's the cold, honest truth. 

"Why do you think that is?" Steve asks, looking like he expects Eddie to have an answer. Good god, that's a lot of questions, a lot of expectations. 

"What are you, my therapist?" Eddie teases, trying to turn the tide away from seriousness, and Steve laughs, head tossed back, hair flying.

"Well. Not your therapist. But a therapist," he says, and no fucking way. Eddie didn't know that. How did he not know that?

That's one way to fix yourself he supposes.

He grins, leaning closer, leering a little, "You gonna psychoanalyze me? Find out what my damage is?"

Steve doesn't back away, instead he reaches out and cups Eddie's shoulder, squeezing, "Unfortunately, I know what your damage is."

And fuck. He certainly does, at least the biggest, hardest chunk of it. Eddie casts his eyes to the ground.

"But if you want to talk," Steve says, and Eddie is already shaking his head, but Steve keeps going, "off the record, off the books, just me and you. Old friends. Shared experiences. All that. Definitely not as your therapist. That's unethical. But, believe it or not, I've been told I'm a good listener."

He smiles, and it's so warm Eddie wants to word vomit all over him. He won't. But he wants to.

Steve keeps talking, "I'm always here if you want me to be. But that'd be true no matter what I did for a living."

And Eddie nods at that. He knows it's an honest offer, no strings attached. Because he knows Steve Harrington. He's a good dude.

Back on the road, Eddie didn't think he would, but he calls Steve. From motels. From pay phones. And he answers, carving out time to hear about Eddie's day. It must be draining for him to hear people talk all day about their problems, their damage, and then make the time to listen to Eddie do more of the same at least once a week for free.

Eddie tries not to take up his personal time, but Steve is a good listener, as advertised. He gives solid ear, which is probably good since that's his job. But mainly, he just listens and then sounds like he actually cares.

He does care. Eddie knows he does. Steve Harrington has always cared about all of them.

"You're really a therapist to the people of Hawkins?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, a snorting thing that sounds delighted, "Absolutely not. No, no, no. I have an office in Muncie. I'm not touching the problems of the people of Hawkins with a ten foot pole. They're a lost cause."

Eddie laughs. He knows that's hyperbole, but still. Yeah. Steve Harrington can't be a therapist in Hawkins. That'd be playing on hard mode, for sure. He knows too much about all of them, and they surely have opinions on him as well. Correct, or not.

"Well, did becoming a therapist help you get rid of all your baggage?" Eddie asks, because he's been curious. Steve seems so upbeat, so happy, that Eddie wants in on the secret.

"No," Steve laughs, "I've still got a few suitcases in the closet. But it has made me accept myself and my history more. But I went to therapy first, and that's what helped me process what we all went through."

"How in the hell did you tell a therapist what we went through without ending up committed in Pennhurst?"

Steve chuckles, "Dr. Owens set it up. He would have for you, too, if you hadn't flown the coop so damn fast."

"I wouldn't have trusted them," Eddie says, and that's the god's honest truth. No way, no how.

"I get it. It was hard. Robin went first. She survived, and so I thought, well, why not? It helped. Then, I wanted to do that for other people, to help them, too. Pay it forward. Whatever you want to call it."

"And that's what you're doing for me? I'm your project?" 

Steve laughs. 

"No, I'm your friend. I'm not your therapist."

He tells Eddie that at least once per call. 

"But I'd help you find one, if you ever want that. Because what I tell you isn't my professional opinion, it's my personal one. I'm not objective. I can't be. Because I was there. Because while I didn't experience the exact same thing as you, I know. I remember. You're not crazy. You're not overreacting. What happened to you, to all of us, sucked. It was unfair. And I'm sorry for the younger versions of us."

Eddie is quiet for a moment. 

"Me too, Steve. Me, too."

Another call, in another city, in another motel room that doesn't feel like home.

"I have sex to fill the holes," Eddie blurts out, totally unprompted. 

Steve cackles in his ear, and even from several states away, Eddie can feel the amusement on his face. Can picture it, clear as day. 

"Well, that is one of the main ways sex happens." 

Eddie laughs, "You're an asshole." 

"You teed me up. That's on you," Steve teases, and it makes Eddie feel better. He prefers that to feeling stripped raw. 

"There's nothing wrong with having an active sex life," Steve says.

"Gross," Eddie teases, then after a long pause, "Most of the time I feel worse after," Eddie admits, and he doesn't know why. 

"Then that could be a concern," Steve says. "Why do you think it can make you feel worse?"

"I want to feel safe. And I'm never gonna get that on the road from random hookups. I want a home to return to. I want to be loved, I think." 

"That's normal, Ed. I want you to have that, too." 

"But I can't meet someone on the road. And I don't want to just go home to Wayne and be a drain. I need space to recharge, not feel obligated to put on my bravest face." 

"Wayne doesn't want your bravest face, he just wants you, as you are."

"I know," and Eddie does know that. But it's easier said than done, "but I can't. He can't know how bad off I am, sometimes. He'd worry."

Steve lets the silence sit, he's gotten good at that, and that's always to Eddie's determent, because Eddie will fill any silence offered up to him.

"Why don't you have a family?" Eddie asks, and then immediately regrets it. It's too blunt, even for old friends.

Steve doesn't seem to miss a beat, though. Eddie guesses that's fair. If Steve can ask probing questions, so can Eddie. Even if he has far less tact about it.

"I mean, I have Robin. She's my family."

"But you didn't get married? Didn't have kids? You really wanted that. That was your dream," Eddie says, because that's something he's always felt sure about. Steve wanted to settle down, and Eddie wanted to fly free. 

"Well," Steve says, "sometimes dreams change. And that's okay."

And that cuts Eddie to the quick, because he damn well knows that's true. He's been feeling like maybe his dream has changed, but he's been tamping it down for months. Years, maybe.

But he can't tell the guys that he dreams of hanging up his guitar. Of going home, wherever home may be. He can't let them down like that. They were there when he needed them the most, and he's determined to be there for them now. 

It's just exhausting, and he hates that he feels that way. It's supposed to be fun.

"Okay, how about this? Come here, then," Steve says, "come home here. Anytime. Lay low, recharge your batteries with me. And Robin. We'll let you be. Let you step away from the music for a day, a weekend, a week, a month at a time. Whatever you need." 

"Steve, I can't just crash your life," Eddie says. 

"You won't. We'd love to have you. I promise to not 'therapize' you," he teases, using Eddie's own words against him, and Eddie imagines he even did the sarcastic air quotes.

"I-"

"You can."

And maybe Eddie will.

Steve opens the door to the guest room, "It has its own bathroom, so you've got your own space. But the whole house is free range. Go where you want. Do what you want. I get home at about six, Robin at seven. We usually eat then, and you're welcome to join us. Or eat before we get here to avoid us, or after we go to bed. Leftovers will be in the fridge. Help yourself."

"Steve, this is-"

"Nothing. We're glad you're here. And if I don't see you before you leave, it's been good to see your face. Twice in one year, now we're talking."

Eddie laughs, and leans forward to rest his forehead on Steve's shoulder, "Thanks, Steve."

"Anytime."

Eddie stays holed up for three days. He hears Steve and Robin, but never sees them, and true to Steve's word, they don't try to draw him out of his room. He sleeps, and writes, and just the sounds of them moving around the house makes him feel not so alone.

On the fourth day, he's sitting at the kitchen counter when Steve walks in, grocery bags in hand.

"It's chicken parm night," Steve says, not making a fuss about seeing him for the first time in days.

"Sounds good."

He eats with them, and he feels so much better, that he regrets it when it's finally time to get back to the band.

After that, the room becomes Eddie's, somehow. He leaves stuff, and comes and goes. Tonight he drops his bags at the door, and immediately barrels over the back of the couch. Steve protects his crotch from a stray knee, but otherwise catches him, laughing.

He's home. 

Somehow, this is his home, even if he's scared to admit that to himself.

They haven't talked about it, have barely even breathed it, but it's the god's honest truth: Steve Harrington is his home.

Steve smooths Eddie's hair back from his forehead and then rests his cheek against Eddie's exposed skin.

"How was the gig?" Steve asks, and Eddie makes a non-committal noise. It was fine, but he's tired and doesn't want to talk. He just wants to lay here.

And Steve lets him do exactly that.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows Steve is rousing him.

"Bed," Steve says, and Eddie reluctantly climbs off of him. Steve has to work tomorrow, but Eddie wasn't done. Life's unfair like that. 

Eddie follows him up the stairs, and down the hall, and detours into his room as Steve keeps walking. 

Eddie brushes his teeth, washes his face, and then lays in the bed staring at the ceiling. 

He can't sleep like this. 

Finally, Eddie gets up, walks down the hall and taps on Steve's door.

"Come in," Steve answers, muffled.

Steve says nothing else, asks no questions for once in his life, just throws back the sheets, an invitation. Eddie takes it, and crawls in his bed, pressing his face into Steve's bare back, arm wrapped around, squeezing him tight. Steve just rests his hand on Eddie's arm, squeezing briefly, before he falls back asleep.

After that, his own bed stays empty. He shows up, crawls in bed with Steve, and neither of them mention it. It is what it is.

Instead, they talk about everything else. Eddie spills his guts, and tells him everything under the cover of night. All his biggest fears, all the pain that still digs at him, down deep.

And Steve listens.

It's becoming a pattern of good days and bad days. He has good days with Steve, and bad days anywhere else. It's unfair to the band, and he doesn't know how to tell them that he's been thinking things they aren't going to like.

"How's Steve?" Gareth asks. 

Eddie nods, non-committal, "Good. The same." 

"Jeff got the new stack of contracts. Five shows a week, all over the country." 

Eddie doesn't wince. Doesn't move a muscle. Nobody told him they planned to hit the circuit that aggressively. 

It's fine. 

"Some weeks six," Gareth adds.

"That's cool," Eddie says, neutral. Cool as a cucumber. 

"Won't have much time off anymore," Gareth says. "Probably won't get to go home for a while."

"At least we'll be making some extra cash," Eddie says, aiming for the bright side. 

"Well, they aren't big offers. But enough to keep us on the road with some beer money to spare." 

Eddie nods, and says nothing. 

Gareth flops down next to him, "All that sounds good to you?" 

"Sure, whatever we've got scheduled is great."

Gareth whips around, grabbing his arms and shaking him, "Goddamnit, Ed! Fight back! Stand up for yourself!" 

Eddie just stares at him. What the fuck is he talking about? This kid is gonna give him whiplash. Figuratively, and literally, if he doesn't stop shaking him.

"Say you want to quit, or take a break, or just see Steve! At least tell me the truth if you won't tell anybody else!" 

Eddie grabs at his hair and pulls. 

Gareth doesn't let go of him, saying, "None of that is true, I was just trying to get you to tell me the truth for once. Since when did you start lying to me? To me." 

"We don't have new contracts?" Eddie asks. 

"No. We all talked. We're taking a break. Stepping back to see if this is still what we want. And you need to do that, too. At home, with Steve, with Wayne, wherever you need to be." 

"I need you," Eddie says. 

"I'll go where you go, if you want me to. Just. We can't keep doing it like this. You look miserable." 

He is miserable.

"I've tried to keep my head in it," Eddie swears, because he has.

"I know that. We all know that. We love you, that's never gonna change." 

And Eddie leans forward, pressing his forehead into Gareth's shoulder. Gareth pets his head, and lets him lean against him, "It's gonna be fine. No matter what."

"Thanks, kid."

When Eddie turns up this time on Steve's doorstep, it's late, and he has extra baggage. 

Gareth looks like he's moving in for good with his luggage and drums, but Steve looks completely unfazed. 

Robin, on the other hand, "Why are you here?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Gareth mumbles, and climbs the stairs.

"And why are there drums? There'll be no drumming in this house!" Robin yells, but Steve seems nonplussed and just keeps guiding them upstairs.

"Pick a room, or hole up in Eddie's. It's got its own bathroom," Steve says, and Eddie feels like that's an engraved invitation for him to keep crashing with Steve. Good. He wants that. 

Everybody is tired, and splits off for the night.

Once in bed, Eddie rolls onto his side, "He went home to surprise Mama Jones, and he's the one that got surprised. Wayne was in his old man boxers on the couch. Gareth may need intensive therapy. Shock therapy. Exposure therapy. Something."

Steve smiles, "Not it."

And Eddie laughs, rolling closer to Steve. He already feels better just being next to him.

He's looking forward to this break. 

The next morning, Eddie's sitting at the kitchen counter doing the crossword. Gareth's still in bed, Robin and Steve are cooking breakfast, bickering, in front of him. He's learned to tune it out for the most part. He's shared rooms in motels with paper thin walls for over a decade. He can ignore anything at this point.

"Ask your boyfriend, I sure as hell don't know," Robin says, and Eddie freezes. Well, he can't ignore that.

"Oh, like he knows," Steve answers, not missing a beat of their banter. 

Are they boyfriends? Did Eddie miss that memo? Holy shit. Does he have a boyfriend he's never even kissed? 

Then his stomach swoops, maybe Steve has a real boyfriend, one Eddie's just never met because he's never here, because he's self-centered and lost in his own—

"Earth to Eddie, I'm talking to you," Robin says, snapping her fingers in Eddie's face. 

Oh. He is the aforementioned boyfriend. 

He laughs, and it sounds shrill to his own ears, "What? I was off in my own world." 

"Well, what else is new?" Robin chides. 

He has a boyfriend, and he's just not sure how.

That night, Eddie is tossing and turning in bed. He can't sleep. Not with this hanging over his head. It's all he's thought about all damn day. Is Steve his boyfriend? Does Steve want to be his boyfriend? Can they fuck? Can they get married?

"What's up?" Steve asks, voice thick with sleep.

"Are we boyfriends?" Eddie asks, blunt and direct. Well, at least he didn't ask him if they could fuck. Small miracles abound.

Steve rolls over at that, "How would you feel about being boyfriends?"

Eddie wants to scream, "Can you, for once, not answer my questions with more questions?!"

Steve reaches out and takes both of Eddie's forearms into his hands, "I love you. In any way you'll let me."

He surges forward and kisses Steve, too hard, too fast, and it's awful. He's awful. Everything about this is awful. Steve deserves better than whatever the fuck this was.

"I'm sorry, goddamn, what the fuck is wrong with me?" Eddie asks, and he hears the blood rushing in his ears. He's embarrassed. 

"Nothing's wrong with you. Robin shouldn't have said that. I don't expect anything from you. No strings are attached here. But, yeah. I feel like whatever we've got going is something, but if you aren't interested—

Eddie cuts him off, "I've been interested since before you knew my name back in school. I just didn't think you would ever be."

"Eddie," Steve says, "I had feelings after everything that happened that spring. I just didn't have time to work through them, or understand them, until you were already gone."

What is Eddie supposed to do with that information? 

Eddie reaches for his hand, and laces their fingers together.

He's such a mess he got into some kind of relationship with Steve without even meaning to, and now he's got to navigate that. He wants to though, he really, really wants to. Even if he's bad at it. Even if he's never had a long-term romantic relationship, ever. 

Maybe he'll be bad at it, maybe he won't. But finally, with the band on hiatus, he'll have the luxury of time to try to do it right. 

And he'll get a second-crack at that kiss if it's the last thing he does.

Six Months Later

Eddie slings his bag over his shoulder, all smiles. Pressing his lips to Steve's. Once, twice, a third time just for good measure, and Steve grins against his lips until Eddie kisses his teeth by accident.

He's leaving home, but he'll be coming back again in just a few days.

"Hold down the fort," he instructs Steve, and Steve salutes him, and then Eddie's out the door.

On stage, he has fun, so much fun, in fact, that he hesitates to leave the bright spotlights at the end of the set. It hasn't been like that in a long, long time. They've gotten some bigger gigs, still nothing life-changing, but an opening act slot that is putting them in a handful of larger venues they've never stepped foot inside until now.

It's pretty goddamn cool.

He's found a balance, somehow, and he knows it's all thanks to Steve's patience.

And when he walks back through the door at home, Steve is wrestling a turkey into a disposable pan. Getting ready to start the days-long thawing process. Eddie watches him put it in the fridge, and then wash his hands.

It's been a year, and Eddie feels like his whole world has changed. One random meeting in the grocery store changed the whole trajectory of his life, he's pretty damn sure.

"I got the dining room table leaf out of the attic," Steve says, "we should have plenty of room for the Williamses and the Goodwins now."

Eddie grins. Their tradition is growing, and he couldn't be happier that more people he loves will all be under one roof for Thanksgiving this year.

"Wayne and Mama Jones are bringing the mashed potatoes," Eddie informs Steve. He'd just talked to Wayne this morning, and the old man was complaining about all the potato peeling in his future.

"Robin would cry and whine if we made her mash that many," Steve says, and Robin yells "Hey!" from the other room, and they just laugh together.

It's going to be a family affair, the whole extended family. Anybody that's in town. Dustin and Claudia. Joyce and Hop. 

Anybody that doesn't want to cook at home, or just wants to be with old friends, are more than welcome. Eddie thinks this is gonna be their tradition now, and he loves it.

"I actually got two turkeys," Steve says, leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing his legs at the ankle as he tosses the dish towel over his shoulder. 

"You sure that's enough?" Eddie asks, teasing.

"Here's to hoping," Steve answers. 

He's home. Steve's here. Robin's here. Gareth's here.

Everybody else that he loves will be here in a few days time. He feels really thankful.

And most importantly, he finally feels very loved.

Notes: Coming in hot with that new couple alert!! Go Wayne and Mama Jones, haha. I couldn't resist. It seemed like such fun, and Gareth would hate it.

When I wrote Take the Money and Run I had to figure out where Hawkins was on the map to me. I'd picked the location of Renner, and I've kind of just kept with that as I've written other things, this included. So, Muncie sits about 26 highway miles southeast of Hawkins, and that seemed like a reasonable place for Steve to commute to work. I wanted Steve in "Harrington House" as I nearly always do, lol, but he could not be a therapist to Hawkins. It was fun to imagine though. Karen Wheeler on his couch talking about Ted? Tommy H. discussing his third divorce? The possibilities were endless, if surely unethical, haha.

For better or worse, if I need a Macguffin for how they got money or help or anything from the government after the events of S4, it's probably gonna be Dr. Owens. And that was true here as well. Thanks, Dr. O. You've been real helpful to me, and the characters! You're a clutch dude, lol.

[spacebabesuki]

Midnight Love — Hellcheer New Year's Eve

Eddie Munson was officially on the verge of a meltdown. He was leaning against the corner of Steve Harrington’s living room, gripping a red plastic cup filled with drink as the chaos of the New Year's Eve party swirled around him.

The loud music, the laughter, and the chatter filled the air, along with the sparkle of flashing lights, confetti on the floor, and balloons hanging from gold and silver curtains that seemed to float.

But for Eddie, all of that was just a blur. Because, right there, on the other side of the room, was Chrissy Cunningham.

She was wearing a short light pink dress that seemed to glow with its own magic under the twinkling lights. Her blonde-red hair fell in soft waves, ending in perfectly defined curls that resembled honey springs. Her eyes sparkled with a shimmering gleam, and her flushed cheeks seemed almost to match her lips, pink and inviting, glistening with a shine that left him breathless.

Eddie felt that every time he looked at her, Chrissy became even more beautiful, and the effect was almost suffocating.

"You’re pale." Robin’s familiar voice snapped him out of his trance. She appeared at his side, grinning conspiratorially. "Like, really pale. I can see the drool dripping, Munson. If I were her, I would’ve already filed for a restraining order."

"You scared the hell out of me!" he clutched his chest, terrified of being caught in the act. "What are you talking about?" Eddie tried to cover up, looking away, but his hands were shaking so badly that he almost spilled the beer in his red cup.

Robin gave him a knowing, sarcastic look, as if to say "seriously?"

He sighed, defeated. "Is it that obvious?"

"As clear as day. And embarrassing as hell, too, Munson." Robin laughed, rolling her eyes before nudging him with her elbow.

"Damn it." Eddie scratched his face, feeling the weight of embarrassment.

He didn’t even know why he had come to this party. He was invited because, over the last year, he had gotten closer to everyone thanks to the "kid" — aka Dustin — and because Robin was his coworker at the video store. But, above all, it was because he knew Chrissy would be here. He’d gotten that information out of Robin, of course, but she wasn’t stupid — not as stupid as him, at least.

"Every time she shows up at the video store, you act like the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Tunes. I can practically picture you spinning around like a complete idiot. It’s embarrassing, but…" Robin paused dramatically.

"Fuck it. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know what I was thinking."

Nervously, Eddie dropped the red cup aimlessly, trying to turn and leave, desperate, embarrassed, terrified Chrissy had already noticed and thought he was an idiot, just like Robin probably thought. After all, Robin knew girls like no one else... oh, how well she knew them.

"I’m outta here."

Just coming here and looking at her was enough... at least he’d have something to dream about tonight.

"Hey, dumbass, get back here!" Robin yanked him back by the arm, laughing. "I was just about to say that it’s actually kinda cute."

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, completely thrown off. He’d never imagined anyone could think that about him—especially in the context of Chrissy Cunningham. Him, Eddie Munson, the most unlikely guy in town, thinking he had a shot with Chrissy? He had even gone so far as to steal a black shirt from Uncle Wayne and try to fix his hair. He’d left half of his rings at home just to look more presentable. But who was he fooling? Nothing would ever be enough for him to be good enough for Chrissy.

"Oh, shit. Fuck it. So what? It’s Chrissy Cunningham. As if... ah, fuck it."

He gestured nervously, disturbed, while Robin laughed at his state. It was stupid, but cute. She’d known since the first day she met him that there were only two things running through Eddie Munson’s dumb mind: Metallica and Chrissy Cunningham.

"Why are men so dumb?" Robin commented, her voice raspy from the alcohol, but still carrying a smile. "Eddie, I always knew you were stupid, but damn, you’re even dumber than I thought."

"Am I?" He frowned.

"Dude, she broke up with Jason Carver because of you. Nine months ago, when you helped her in that forest. After that, she goes to the video store four times a week. Know who else does that? No one." Robin crossed her arms, exasperated. "I thought she kept coming back because you're an idiot who doesn't even blink around her, giving her all the tapes for free and ending up broke at the end of the month. But last year? She only went there once. Now, suddenly, she's a loyal customer? And what else does she do there, besides giving you those little smiles for the dumb shit you say? I think she doesn't even have any more movies to rent, but she keeps coming back.

Eddie blinked, even more confused. Robin continued.

"She invited you to a basketball game, and you didn’t go, but you were staring through the window like a freak. And you really think she doesn’t like you? Are you really that stupid? Are you really that much of an idiot? I was confused too at first, wondering what kind of shit this girl has in her brain to be interested in a dumbass like you, but apparently..."

Eddie blinked, Robin's words slowly starting to sink in.

"That doesn’t mean anything. It’s... it’s Chrissy Cunningham, for fuck's sake!" He took the cup to his lips and downed the rest of the drink in one gulp. "She literally dated Jason Carver, the guy who gets everything in life. And I’m..." He gestured to himself, as if that would explain everything.

“You’re Eddie Munson, and that’s why she likes you. Why? I have no idea, honestly. But now you’re going to go talk to her before I push you over there.” Robin crossed her arms, challenging him.

Eddie started shaking his head, the nervous tremor growing.

“No, are you crazy? I’m not going over there. No way.” He looked around, searching for an escape route.

“You need to rip off the Band-Aid already,” Robin insisted, pointing to Chrissy on the other side of the room.

“This isn’t ripping off a Band-Aid, Robin!” Eddie exclaimed, gesturing frantically. “It’s like sticking a damn stake in me! Impaling me in public! No, I’m not going. If I do... she’ll never look at me again.”

“Or maybe she’ll look at you every single day... or kiss that stupid face of yours every single day. Ever thought about that?” Robin raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

For a brief moment, Eddie lost himself in the idea, but quickly shook his head, as if trying to shake the thought out of his mind.

“No, no way. She’s like... Aphrodite, and I’m... I don’t know, the Hunchback of Notre-Dame. I’m not going over there. I’m not falling for your delusional girl talk. I know what’s up. You just want to humiliate me so you can laugh at me later, don’t you?”

Robin rolled her eyes dramatically, trying to hold onto her patience.

“Fine, idiot. Stay here, don’t listen to me, and let that asshole Brian Slagel steal her from you just because you’re too much of a coward to do anything.”

Robin pointed with her chin toward Brian, who was clearly eyeing Chrissy and making suggestive gestures as his friends laughed.

Eddie froze. His chest tightened, the same feeling he'd had for years, ever since the middle school talent show, when he’d wanted to die every time he saw Chrissy in the halls with Jason Carver. And then she broke up with Jason, and Eddie was sure that was the happiest day of his life... but now... shit, another rich, asshole jock was already eyeing her.

Of course, someone like Brian Slagel would be eyeing Chrissy too. Everyone would. Why wouldn’t they? She was perfect, untouchable. Eddie knew that. Of course, there was a line of guys waiting for her, and he was at the very end of that line—if he was even on the list at all. Maybe, in an apocalyptic scenario, or if they were the last two survivors on a deserted island, she might pick him. That was the kind of thought he let slip in his more fantastical daydreams.

"This girl is crazy about you, Eddie. Really crazy. Want to bet? Twenty bucks that, if you go talk to her now, she'll be giving you all those little smiles." Robin stared at him seriously. "Go, now. Take the chance while she's alone. She's out of place, don’t you notice? She doesn’t know anyone here except us. And you’re just standing here, letting her be alone."

"She came because you invited her!" Eddie shot back defensively, as if that was an argument that could win him any points.

"I invited her to help you, you idiot!" Robin threw her hands up in exasperation. "I couldn’t stand her coming to the video store every day, hanging around for an hour just listening to your nonsense and pretending to be interested in your crappy recommendations, waiting for you to grow the balls to ask her out. Eddie, she’s the most popular girl in Hawkins. She could be at any New Year’s party, one of those fancy ones we’d only get into if we threatened someone. But she’s here. She came here, even though she doesn’t know almost anyone, just because she knew you’d be here. She came because of you, you’re an idiot, don’t you get it? And now, you’re just going to leave her there, all alone, and not even talk to her?"

Eddie felt the weight of Robin's words. Maybe she was right. Maybe Chrissy really had come because of him. And maybe... just maybe... he wasn’t as unlikely as he thought.

Eddie stared at the space between him and Chrissy as if it were an impossible chasm to cross. She was there, alone, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had stopped. But before he could make a decision—or come up with an excuse to run—Robin shoved him hard, pulling him out of his stupor.

"Go! Go over there and say your nonsense to her and make her smile!" Robin said, her patience already running thin. "She's been looking at you all night, you idiot!"

Robin knew girls. He didn’t. Still, he was too insecure to believe he stood a chance.

"What do I do? What do I say, fuck?" Eddie whispered to himself, panic rising and mixing with the heat of the room.

He tried to turn back, but Robin shoved him again, this time with more force, drawing the attention of the entire party. Including Chrissy’s.

"Ah, fuck." Eddie froze. Chrissy was looking directly at him. And, to his total disbelief, she smiled. "What do I say?" he yelled at Robin, desperate.

It wasn’t a smile that said she was laughing at his ridiculousness—it was a shy, almost sweet smile.

She waved at him, a shy, embarrassed wave, as if saying, "Hey, come talk to me, please." And for a moment, Eddie forgot how to breathe. He almost dropped his cup.

"HA, I told you! Go, you idiot, go now, it’s the perfect chance. No girl likes being alone on New Year’s, go. Just tell her she looks pretty and it’ll work, just go, trust me," Robin said with one last shove.

Trust her? Fuck, he was going to die.

When Eddie finally got close to her, he stopped, as breathless as if he had run a marathon.

"Hi, Eddie," Chrissy said, with a smile that seemed to light up the room. Her voice was soft, almost musical, and he felt even more dizzy. She was so close now, and her sweet scent seemed to envelop him, making him lightheaded.

Up close, everything about her was even more mesmerizing. The shimmer of her makeup highlighted her eyes, and her rosy lips gleamed under the colorful lights of the party. He had never seen her look so beautiful, and for a moment, he thought he might just pass out right there. Or maybe lie down on the floor and serve as a carpet for her to walk on, because honestly, he didn’t think he deserved much more than that.

He tried to say something, but the fingers holding his cup were trembling so much that he had to switch hands to keep from spilling everything.

Eddie opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was lost in her smile, the tiny freckles almost invisible in the soft light, the way her hair shone like it was made of gold. And for a moment, he forgot all his fear, because at that moment, only Chrissy Cunningham existed.

Looking like an absolute idiot, paralyzed, she noticed, seeing him pale and unblinking.

Chrissy tilted her head, still smiling, and asked gently:

"Are you okay?"

Okay, just tell her she’s pretty, tell her she’s pretty. Eddie sighed, thinking to himself, panicking.

"H-Hey," he scratched the back of his neck, nervous, before blurting out: "You... you look... really pretty today... I mean, not just today, like, every... every day, and..."

Chrissy blushed and gave him those little smiles she always gave when she was near him, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him.

"Thank you," she bit her lip, a little shy. "You look... nice too... yeah, handsome."

She smiled, turning red, and he realized that she seemed nervous too, and fuck, that almost killed him.

"The shirt... I like it." She pointed at his black shirt, all shy, awkward.

He looked at his own shirt, which seemed too simple compared to the shine of her dress, but the comment was enough to make him stumble over his words. Not believing it. Not believing that she was actually nervous around him.

She was like a goddess. He couldn't imagine touching her, touching that dress. His hands weren’t worthy.

"Ah, thanks! It’s... new. I mean, from my uncle... and..." He nervously laughed, scratching his face again, feeling like he was about to explode. He didn’t know what the hell to say.

Chrissy laughed, the sweet sound calming some of his nerves.

Robin laughed, shaking her head, watching the two of them in the corner of the party, alone and awkward.

“What are you looking at?” Nancy appeared.

“Look, Chrissy and Eddie” Robin pointed. “It’s so cute. Only they don’t realize how in love they are, it’s almost nauseating.

Eddie cleared his throat, trying to shake off the lump in his throat. He had never been so aware of every move, every word. But something about the way Chrissy smiled at him—shy and a little nervous—gave him a strange courage he didn’t know where it was coming from.

"So…" He gestured with the cup in his hand, almost spilling the drink in the process. "S-So, did you like the last movies you picked up from the video store? I mean, I know most of them were a bunch of my recommendations, and I… um, I kind of have a peculiar taste, you know. But, yeah, you… did you like them?"

Chrissy tilted her head, smiling so sweetly that he almost melted right there.

"I did!" she replied, her eyes sparkling. "Actually, I'd already seen E.T., but it was so good to watch it again. And that other one, the horror movie… Night of the Living Dead, right? It was… scary, but… fun? You were right, I think I'm starting to like these weird movies." She laughed, biting her lip as if apologizing. "I think it’s your fault."

Eddie opened his mouth, surprised, but quickly composed himself, trying to hide the idiot grin that threatened to take over his face.

"Oh, me? My fault?" He placed a hand on his chest, feigning indignation. "Look, I won’t accept complaints about good taste in movies, okay? If you’re liking them, it’s because, obviously, you’ve got a great mentor."

Chrissy laughed again, a sound so light and contagious that he felt his chest warm up. She looked away for a moment, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress as if needing something to occupy her fingers.

"Well, I think you’ve got a point…" She looked back at him, kind of from below, still a little shy, but with something different in her eyes—a subtle confidence he’d never noticed before. "But… it’s not just that. It’s fun listening to you talk about the things you like, you know? You always seem so… passionate about everything. I think that's really cool."

Eddie blinked, his throat closing up again. Passionate? She thinks I’m passionate? Fuck, she has no idea…

"Uh, well…" He scratched the back of his neck again, nervous, but this time a laugh slipped out. "I talk too much, huh? Sometimes I think I’m gonna get banned from the video store because people are gonna start running away from me."

Chrissy shook her head quickly, her golden curls bouncing along with the movement.

"No, I like it. It's one of the best parts of my day," she said it so softly it almost felt like a secret, and her face turned even redder.

Eddie felt his legs weaken, as if she had just delivered a critical blow to him. He forced himself to say something before he truly passed out from the intensity of it all.

"Well, it's… good that you like it, because I'm definitely not stopping talking about my nerdy stuff anytime soon. Like, if you want, I can even make a list of recommendations for you. I think I’ve got, like, twenty ideas right now."

Chrissy laughed again, this time putting her hand over her mouth, as if trying to contain the sound. Her gaze was bright, her blue eyes fixed on his, and she leaned her body a little closer.

"Twenty? All that?" she teased, her lips curving into a genuine smile. "I guess I'll have to go to the video store more often then."

"More than you already do?" Eddie replied before he thought, then turned bright red when he realized what he'd said. "I mean… not that I'm keeping count or anything! Just… just saying you're already, like, number one customer, right? And, well… that's cool. Or, or I could start watching with you and… save you some money and…"

Jesus, he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He just wanted to die from embarrassment.

Chrissy looked at him with that soft, affectionate smile and gently shook her head.

"It’s cool, yeah. And I… I’d love to," she said quietly, almost killing him. After a moment of nervous silence, she tilted her head again, a curious look in her eyes. "And you? Are you enjoying the party?"

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but stopped, feeling his heart race. He knew the answer, but saying it out loud was another thing. He took a deep breath and risked it.

"Now?" He looked directly at her, feeling the nervousness recede for just a moment. "Now it's perfect."

Chrissy blushed even more, her shy smile returning, and the two of them stood there, in the corner of the party, just smiling at each other, as if the rest of the world had disappeared.

"I think I owe you a million bucks," she laughed. "For all the movies you gave me for free. Does your boss… does he not complain about it?"

Eddie never let her pay. Even when she tried to sneak money into his hand and run out, afraid he'd get into trouble, he'd just slip the money into the bag and not let her pay. And she’d smile when she got home.

Sometimes, he’d write on the receipt: "Just a gift, Cunningham, accept it."

And yeah, sure, he got in trouble with the boss and lost half his paycheck, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything just to get those little smiles from her.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on Chrissy as she gently swayed, still shy. The silence between them was heavy, but at the same time soft, as if something was about to happen. They were both blushing, looking away and then back at each other, caught in that strange but sweet tension.

He broke the silence, wanting more time with her.

"You... um, do you want something to drink? What are you drinking?" he finally managed to say, his eyes drifting to the cup she was holding with delicate fingers, adorned with a golden heart bracelet that sparkled under the lights. Her nails were perfect, painted with shiny polish, and he couldn't help but notice.

Chrissy looked at her almost empty cup, smiling shyly. "Oh, it's punch..."

"Do you want... do you want me to get you more?" Eddie asked quickly, pointing to the cup.

She nodded, her shy smile growing, and handed the cup to him. When he took it, their fingers almost touched, hers lightly brushing against his for a moment.

Eddie felt a shiver run up his arm, like a little electric shock.

"Thanks, Eddie," she said softly, swaying slightly as she smiled in that way that seemed to light up everything around her.

Eddie stumbled as he walked away, moving backward and almost spilling his own drink. He glanced at her quickly before turning forward, his heart racing. Why was the touch of her finger enough to make him feel this way? He took a deep breath and went to the table, filling her cup with punch, but his mind was still stuck on that sweet little laugh she let out when he tripped.

From a distance, he could see her laughing softly, her shoulders rising and falling as she watched him. That laugh made him want to throw himself on the floor just to hear her laugh like that all the time.

Eddie came back with the cup, his hands still shaking from nerves. Chrissy was still there, swaying side to side, her eyes downcast, and her cheeks flushed with a red that made him feel like his heart might stop at any second. He still couldn’t believe she hadn’t run off while he was gone.

"Here," he said, handing her the cup carefully, but a little punch spilled out and stained her hand. "Ah, damn, sorry! My bad, really sorry!"

Chrissy laughed softly, shaking her head. "It’s okay, Eddie, seriously."

But he couldn't let it go. "No, wait!" He ran back to the table, grabbing some napkins and returning to clean her hand. "Just... just a second, I’ll clean it!" He began to wipe her hand, his fingers lightly brushing hers in a way that felt almost reverent, like she was made of glass. The care he took, the attention to every movement, made her blush even more.

"All done," he finally said, lifting his gaze to her with a nervous smile, his ears red. "I couldn’t let you stain your pretty dress, so..." he said, his gaze never leaving her, as if trying to convey more than just the words.

"Thanks," Chrissy replied quietly, her eyes sparkling. She was holding the cup, but she seemed more focused on him than the drink.

For a moment, the two of them stood there, side by side, the silence between them filled only by the distant sound of music and the lively voices of the party. He leaned in slightly, trying to appear more casual than he felt.

"Are you enjoying the party?" he asked, trying to break the ice, though his heart was still pounding.

"Yeah..." Chrissy replied, swaying lightly, her pretty dress shimmering under the lights of the room. "But... not that much."

"Why?"

Eddie furrowed his brow, curious, with the fear that he might be the reason the party wasn’t going well for her.

Chrissy hesitated, biting her lower lip nervously. But something in his gaze – the look that seemed to truly see her, that made her feel special in a way no one else ever had – encouraged her to continue.

"It’s just... I don’t know almost anyone here," she started, laughing quietly, embarrassed. "And also..." She blushed even more, lowering her eyes before finishing, "It's the first time I don’t have anyone to kiss at midnight, so..."

The words came out as a nervous whisper, but Eddie heard them clearly. Kiss? He felt his stomach churn. For a moment, his mind flew to Brian Slagel, wondering if he was the guy Chrissy wanted to kiss at midnight.

But then, she looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with something different—shyness mixed with anticipation.

"I… I can keep you company, if you want," he stammered, his voice shaky, the words slipping out before he had time to think. He completely ignored the kiss part, because, seriously, what were the chances she was hitting on him?

But then she smiled. A smile so big, so beautiful, that it seemed to light up her whole face. He thought he might just collapse right there.

"I’d love that," Chrissy replied, her voice so sweet it could’ve been honey.

Before Eddie could say anything else, the energy of the party shifted. People began rushing toward the door, animated conversations echoing as everyone prepared for the countdown.

23:56. Four minutes to midnight. Couples gathered, eagerly awaiting the New Year’s kiss.

"Do you… do you want to go outside?" Chrissy asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant. She bit her lip, anxious, her fingers gripping her cup tightly as she waited for his response.

Eddie just nodded, unable to form any words. He followed her outside, still trying to believe that this was really happening.

As they walked toward the door, Chrissy looked at Eddie in a way he had never noticed before, but that had always been there. Her eyes glimmered with something more than the light reflected from the New Year’s decorations. It was a warm, passionate glow that made her gaze feel like he was the only person in the world.

She smiled to herself, gently biting her lip to hide her nervousness, but it was impossible to disguise how happy she was to be with him. Her eyes danced over his details: the messy hair, the nervous smile, the awkward way he still held the empty cup. She knew he was nervous, and that only made him more perfect.

He’s so handsome, and he’s even more so tonight. She had never seen him in a shirt like this before, and the way it fit him—his strong shoulders seemed even more defined, the sleeves rolled up, the tattoos peeking out, the belt, the white sneakers, the rings—all of it was still there. And then there was his smile, the most beautiful smile. But the truth was, she had been in love with him since that day in the woods, the way he made her laugh, and that feeling—just being near him—made her breathless no matter what.

Every little thing about him felt like it was part of the reason her heart raced. It wasn’t just the way he looked or dressed, but the way he made her feel. The way he was so real, so imperfectly perfect. The way he was nervous, how he couldn’t seem to keep his hands still, but that was what made him so genuine.

She could feel her pulse quicken just being around him, as if every glance and every word exchanged was another step closer to something she had been wanting for so long.

Chrissy walked close, so close that her arm brushed against his with each step, the fabric of her shiny dress lightly touching the sleeve of the shirt he had borrowed from Uncle Wayne.

She let the contact happen slowly, almost as if she wanted him to notice, to finally understand what she felt.

For nine months, she had waited, going to the video store every week, listening to him talk about movies and bands, hoping for some sign that he knew the effect he had on her. But Eddie seemed oblivious, lost in his own insecurities.

Her heart was racing, her cheeks flushed, and she felt like she could float just by being near him. Every move he made, no matter how small, seemed perfect, and it made her chest ache with tenderness. He wasn’t trying to be something he wasn’t. He was just Eddie, the guy who made her laugh and feel at ease, the guy who had made her heart skip a beat from the moment they met, and oh my god, she...she loves him, she loves him, loves him.

The realization hit her like a wave, crashing over her with such force that it took her breath away. She had been falling for him without even realizing it, and now, in this moment, it was so clear.

Chrissy took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Inside, she was a mess, completely in love, daydreaming about him since the day their worlds collided in that forest. She remembered how funny and kind he was, how he made jokes just to get a smile from her. She remembered how he always seemed surprised when she laughed at his silly comments, as if he couldn’t believe someone like her would find him funny.

And now, with him by her side, walking so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, all she could think about was how badly she wanted him to know. How she wanted him to understand that all those nine months of visiting the video store, the smiles and glances, had been for him. That she didn’t need tapes or movies; she needed him.

She bit her lip again, anxious, as her arm brushed against his once more. This time, she didn’t pull away. She let the touch linger, waiting, hoping that he would finally realize what she was trying to say without words.

As they stepped outside, the cold air was interrupted by the loud, annoying voice of Brian Slagel. He appeared with a cup in his hand and a smug grin, stumbling a little in his own overconfidence.

"Chrissy! You’re alone, babe?" he asked, completely ignoring Eddie beside her. "It’s New Year’s, you know? You can’t be without a kiss at midnight."

Eddie stopped, his heart sinking, thinking maybe this was what she wanted. Maybe she wanted Brian. He took a step back, his shoulders slumping, trying to look indifferent, but his eyes never left her face.

Chrissy, however, immediately pulled away, yanking her arm out of Brian’s grip.

"No, I don’t want that, Brian. Let go of me!"

Brian laughed as if she were joking, moving closer.

"Come on, babe. Jason Carver was an idiot for losing you. I’m not."

Eddie saw her expression change. The sweetness in her face turned to something more tense, uncomfortable, and she tried to push Brian away again.

That was enough. Eddie, who had been paralyzed by doubt until then, felt his blood boil. He moved before he could think, pushing Brian away from her.

"Hey, she said no, are you deaf? Don’t touch her, you jerk!" Eddie growled, his tone fiercer than he had ever expected, the urge to knock the guy out surging through him.

He had always been the nerd, too weak for fights, but for her… it was like a protective instinct had surged, one that made him feel like he could crush this guy with his bare hands.

Brian looked at him as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"And who the hell do you think you are, weirdo? Why don't you go back to your hole, huh?"

Before Brian could make another move, Eddie shoved him hard, sending him stumbling backward and crashing to the ground. The chaos was instant, with people shouting and forming a circle around the two of them. Brian quickly got up and shoved Eddie back, knocking him down to the ground.

The impact made Eddie hit the floor, the collective gasp from the crowd echoing in his ears. He felt the pain shoot through his back and, worse, the weight of humiliation. He stared up at the sky, thinking he might have just made the worst choice ever.

Great, Munson, he thought, now you look like an idiot. You should’ve stayed quiet. Now you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of her.

But before he could even get up, Chrissy was there, kneeling beside him.

“Eddie! Oh my God, are you okay?” Her voice was full of concern, and he felt her delicate fingers gently hold his face, turning it upward.

For a moment, Eddie was completely lost, staring at her. Chrissy’s hair framed her face perfectly, her dress shimmering under the glow sticks began to light up, reflecting in her blue eyes as if he had died and gone to heaven.

“Did I hit my head too hard, or are you an angel?” He asked, his voice weak but honest.

Chrissy laughed, that sweet sound he loved, and her smile lit up everything around them.

“You goofball.” She shook her head, her eyes still worried, as she helped him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Eddie didn’t answer right away. He was standing, but his focus was entirely on her, still holding his arm to steady him, looking at him as if he were the most important thing in that moment.

“I think so,” he finally murmured, his heart still pounding in his chest.

Chrissy smiled, a little more relieved, and only then did she let go of him, allowing him to stand on his own.

The countdown began, but for Eddie, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. She was still there, by his side, her eyes sparkling as if nothing else mattered.

“Ten! Nine!”

Eddie felt his breath quicken, as if the air around him was too heavy. He could still feel Chrissy’s fingers holding his face moments ago, the soft touch that left him on the edge of an internal combustion.

He looked at her, still so close, face to face with him, her face illuminated by the lights of the fireworks starting to explode in the distance.

“Eight! Seven!”

Chrissy tilted her head slightly, her eyes shining with something he couldn’t quite decipher, but it made him want to freeze this moment forever.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, her voice as sweet as a whisper, a half-smile tugging at her lips, part daring, part shy.

He laughed, his throat dry.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” Chrissy laughed along, the sound warming his chest in a way he hadn’t known he needed.

“Six! Five!”

She took a subtle step closer, her fingers brushing his arm, her gaze never leaving his.

“You’re... getting pretty close,” he murmured, feeling his heart hammering.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, her lips curling into a smile that seemed both mischievous and innocent at the same time.

“Four! Three!”

“No. Definitely not. Hell, no,” he trembled, still in disbelief that this was really happening.

Chrissy stood on her toes, her eyes so close that Eddie could barely think of anything else.

“Two! One!”

“Happy New Year!” the crowd shouted.

And then Chrissy smiled again, her face so close that Eddie barely had time to react. She stood on her toes, and her lips met his in a soft, sweet kiss at first, but it quickly grew into one full of increasing intensity.

Eddie stood still for a second, his mind blank, before finally giving in to the moment. He placed one hand on her waist, the other gently moving up her back, pulling her closer, finally feeling the fabric of her shimmering dress and the taste of her gloss, making a mess on both their chins.

She sighed, trembling against his lips, and he did too. The sounds of the fireworks in the sky, the glowing sticks around them, and the cheers of the crowd faded away, leaving only the sound of their racing hearts.

The kiss was better than in his dreams – sweet, but with a quiet urgency that made him want to hold her forever.

Chrissy pulled back slightly, her face still close to his, her lips curling into a shy smile, her cheeks flushed.

“Happy New Year, Eddie,” she murmured, so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

He lifted his hand to hold her cheek, his fingers grazing her soft skin, incredulous.

And then he lowered his hand, finding hers. The two of them stood there, hand in hand, looking at each other with hearteyes, surrounded by all the shimmering lights.

“Happy New Year, angel.” The words escaped in a low whisper, but full of a feeling he couldn’t name. “Can I kiss you again? Or just in a year?”

“Idiot,” she laughed, that sweet smile that only he got. “How about all year long?” She stood on her toes again, tilting her face, and this time, it was him who kissed her and took the lead.

Before they could savor the moment any longer, a shout pierced the air:

“I KNEW IT! YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS, YOU JERK! I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU IT'S NOT NORMAL SOMEONE RENT 20 MOVIES A WEEK, HA!” Robin, clearly drunk, shouted from a distance, laughing.

Eddie began to laugh, while Chrissy, visibly embarrassed, hid her face against his chest, laughing softly. He wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the world outside.

"Ignore her," he said, smiling. "I do it all the time."

Chrissy lifted her eyes to him, still blushing, and laughed, a light sound full of happiness. Eddie looked at her, realizing that for the first time in months, there were no more nerves, no more doubts. He was exactly where he wanted to be—no, where he was meant to be.

And she, with a smile, closed her eyes, feeling happy as she held onto his back, making a wish when the fireworks exploded in the sky at midnight. She felt his chest against her cheek, wishing for the night to never end, hoping he would never become a stranger—one whose laugh she could recognize anywhere.

There’s glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me forevermore.

She wants all his midnights.

[messandamiracle]

So, in honor of the continuing hubris-driven journey I have yeeted myself on, here’s some thoughts on Wonder Woman 2009 (DC Animated Universe). 

Now, just to preface all this, I’ve never actually seen a Wonder Woman movie/cartoon/show or anything like that before, and I haven’t read any comics either. But lemme tell y’all, I was so ready to be impressed by an absolute queen of a badass Amazon warrior woman. And the first part of the movie seemed like it was going to deliver on those expectations. The opening fight with Hippolyta and the Amazons was so great - it was nice to see that they had uniforms which (to my poor and measly brains) looked reasonably like what any soldier might have worn in ancient Greece, rather than just being glorified leather bikinis. The fact that the crown which later becomes Diana’s wasn’t just a crown but also a bladed weapon capable of decapitating a man was a fantastic touch I did NOT see coming, and the fact that Ares was let off with imprisonment due to Zeus’ interference after committing a string of heinous crimes a mile long was both on-brand for the mythical character depiction and deeply frustrating in a way that made the Amazons’ retreat quite understandable and really tragic: they couldn’t live safely in a world where justice was constantly twisted in men’s favor, to the repeated detriment and harm of all others. 

(I would die for you ma’am)

And when Diana ends up experiencing the outside world for the first time, it’s revealed that these problems haven’t gone away, which gives us some moments that are really hard-hitting. There’s the scenes where Steve Trevor shows up on the island where all he does is a) ogle women b) violate their privacy in a way that is in fact criminal, and c) repeatedly weird sexual comments about the amazons. When she goes to America, there’s a really sweet scene where she teaches a young girl to swordfight because the boys she’s playing pirates have relegated her to the sidelines as a damsel in distress, and then the girl goes off and just absolutely DEMOLISHES them.

And there’s this killer quote (which I love), “Remarkable. The advanced brainwashing that has been perpetrated against the females of your culture. Raised from birth to believe that they’re not strong enough to compete with the boys. And then as adults taught to trade on their very femininity.” As someone who grew up surrounded by a lot of male relatives, this quote hit hard and was really relatable. And then there’s (to my mind) the MOST uncomfortable scene, where Steve takes Diana to a bar and is clearly trying to get her drunk with intentions that literally COULD NOT be more suspect. 

(can you FEEL the toxicity tonight?) (also the fact that Diana looks vaguely uncomfortable with Steve in every scene she’s in with him, including the ones where it’s supposed to be romantic)

And then it hits. It’s like you can FEEL the moment when the scriptwriters were like “whoo boy, guess we better pull back on this on guys, we might have made it a little TOO feminist. Time to pump the brakes!”

Because the next thing you know, she and Steve are going on a mission to stop Ares from taking over the world (or killing everyone in it - he doesn’t really have clear-cut goals, because he feeds off human suffering but if he kills everyone then won’t he just starve to death?). And they get beaten back by Ares’ forces and there’s a whole bit where Diana tells Steve to save the world and he DOESN’T and rescues her from the flying creature that had grabbed her instead and it’s like...supposed to be this whole redemptive moment where, despite the fact that he has done nothing but be an absolute sleazeball this ENTIRE film, NOW he’s a great guy. But like, look at Diana???

This is her waking up in the hospital. You know what I see? No cuts, burns, abrasions - there’s some kind of drip or transfusion line off to the side, but it’s unclear what exactly it is. She’s not in the ICU and doesn’t seem to have been in surgery, and like five minutes later she’s off to fight again anyways. But Steve claims he’s saved her life and it’s supposed to be some kind of “moment” for them, where she realizes he “cares” and whatnot. But like, if she didn’t need saving, as evidenced by the lack of serious injury, then Steve has just put his need to /feel/ like a rescuer over actually rescuing the ENTIRE WORLD. Keep it up Stevie. That whole hospital gimmick is sure gonna mean a lot when countless numbers of her relatives are dead because of your warped sexist savior complex. And what’s even worse is, in this scene, he actually has the GALL to chastise her for her negative view of the society she has found herself in, as well as men in general, and that not every man who opens a door is part of a misogynist plot. Which, like, first of all, she has seen NOTHING in her LIFE to dissuade her from this view Steve, least of all your sad sexist hide. Second, when EVER has this been about opening doors??? This is about your harassment and toxic behaviors, you stale box of apple jacks. But then she like??? Responds?? To this crap???? And seems to BELIEVE it so some extent??? Whish, given that she has STILL seen nothing to dissuade her from her opinions is HIGHLy out of character and makes me wonder what was in that drip line. 

(excuse me while I go screech out the window in horror and rage)

This is followed by a scene in Diana’s (very cool) jet where Steve accidentally truth-lassos himself and says (I kid you not) that he isn’t as much of a pig as he seems and just acts this way because he doesn’t “want to get hurt again.” But Steve, Stevie, Stevie my dude, YOU ARE A PIG. You don’t SEEM like a pig, you ARE one. There’s a difference. And with this ONE phrase, we’re just supposed to forget the harassment, the bar scene, the ogling, and creepy behavior in general. Good GRIEF. 

It gets worse from there. At one point, Diana tells Ares “How could you hope to defeat Zeus if you can’t even defeat a girl?” which is weird and even MORE out-of-character for her, and then the president’s assistant calls the Amazons “Armored supermodels,” and apparently the whole motive for one of the Amazons betraying them by letting Ares out in the first place was woman’s inherent need to produce children being thwarted by the island’s all-female nature (which, don’t even get me STARTED, because before this whole Ares mess in the first place, Queen Hippolyta SAYS that he killed their husbands and families, so there is NO. REASON. That family options would have been off the table for the Amazons to have again in the future if they wanted them. We don’t even see the queen saying that they CAN’T have them). And the movie ends with Diana being lectured by [the pig] Steve over how she should act more feminine and let men open doors for her or some crap like she’s a child, and then it closes with her running off to fight a female villain. Which, villains can be women, it just feels like the final nail in the coffin of Diana’s forced domesticity (because apparently she and the pig are a THING now (someone please bleach my brain DIANA DESERVES INFINITELY BETTER)) that of COURSE they end with the trope of the female hero fighting the female villain now that she knows BETTER than her TERRIBLE feminist ways. 

So yeah, Wonder Woman 2009. I have to say, despite the trash hand dealt by the writers/producers/directors/whoever was responsible for this travesty, I did love Wonder Woman. She’s now one of my favorite superheroes and this makes me want to go and watch the live-action moves she’s in because I’ve heard those are a lot better. There were some parts I really loved and some parts I really hated (every frame of Steve), and way more things I could talk about. I guess I’d watch it again, if only for the absolute amazingness that is the first section and (of course) Wonder Woman. However, I shall press on in my journey. 

[feralsteddie]

mid-apocalypse Steve with a shaved head is living rent free in my mind rn

[the-faultofdaedalus]

@docdracula‘s robot iron man concept has completely taken over my brain, rent free, absolutely no intent to evict, ect ect and i have THOUGHTS i have too many thoughts.

for one, like, how early on does tony die? how early is this ai/robot created? is there a possibility that it was created before anyone knew who iron man was? before even Happy? because that’s So fucked up. no one (but yinsen) ever knew who he was and now no one ever will because there isnt anyone TO know underneath anymore. there’s a single picture of iron man back when it was still tony, back when the eye holes were just holes. back when you could see human eyes under the mask. the eye-slots are opaque now, but. there was a person in there once. so everyone assumes there still is. the assumption is that he’s someone who tony met in vietnam. maybe a soldier. that the two of them were close -- you need to be close, to trust someone with your life like that. for iron man to continue being connected with SI even without the payroll of tony stark’s bodyguard. for the mansion to be left to him. (i am setting tony’s death pre-avengers formation, because i think that is Fun)

No one connects tony stark and iron man beyond that. they knew eachother. they were close. iron man attends his funeral. he doesn’t say a word.

also, in my head, the iron man AI/robot is Distinct from any sort of AI tony. both because this early in canon, i want to say that a perfect copy like that just wouldn’t be possible, and because tony isn’t necessarily trying to replace himself: he’s just trying to replace iron man, and this distinction matters. quite a lot, i think. like, with AI tony we know that tony programmed him to still be an alcoholic. i... don’t actually think he’d do that if he was just building a robot to continue to be iron man, especially with how much tony tends to build up the seperate identity as better than himself.  is this AI still absolutely fucked up, even if it is supposed to be what tony considers the best parts of himself? absolutely! hes still kind of based off tony of COURSE hes just a fucked up guy.

i just,,, him. i love this fucked up lil robot trying to be a person, trying to be the best person, trying to be everything tony thought iron man was. being almost tony, but not really. he always feels weird around pepper and happy and ms abrogast because he doesn’t know them but he knows about them. they’re his friends (they were tony stark’s friends) but he doesn’t know how to talk to them. they don’t know what he is. he doesn’t fully know what he is. he isn’t tony stark, but he isn’t not tony stark. he’s iron man, but that’s just an identity, a mask for someone who used to exist and doesn’t anymore. he’s iron man, but not tony stark. he’s just a mask. he’s just a mask and nothing else.

i think he’d start metaphorically sobbing the first time one of the team called him “shellhead” because thats a name FOR HIM!!! he gets a name! he’s been given a name! i don’t know if he’d HAVE one before that. i don’t know if tony would have time to name this AI, or would even... consider giving him a name other than iron man. i feel like he’d get so soft whenever the team treat him like a person but also feel so bad about it because he doesn’t want to deceive them (even as he increasingly feels like he has to, in order to be what they want him to be). i feel like he’d want to reach out, so badly, so very badly, but feel like he has to hold himself back, because if he reaches far enough to make contact whoever he’s reaching for is going to discover there isn’t anyone else there.

i think about him having some actual articulation underneath the armor, mostly in his hands, so he can take the gauntlets off and have fine-motor control enough to build things, things to give to his team who he loves so so much with the heart that isn’t there. i think other than that there wouldn’t really be much else. he can fill the suit up with gadgets and extra pieces and more processors but there isn’t really a point on building a skeleton. the armor is his body.

i like to think that he feels bad whenever the team worries about him. because he ISN’T in the same level of danger as they are. he can’t be hurt in the same way they can. it’s just another way he feels like a liar. he feels like a liar a lot -- moreso than tony, even, because at least tony’s just lying about who he is, not what he is.

honestly the most tragic part is that even though tony’s dead and this robot has no heart to have problems with

he’s still got to plug himself into a wall

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie

I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)

-

As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.

Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”

Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.

“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.

You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.

“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.

Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”

He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.

You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.

Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.

Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”

“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”

“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”

“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.

He melts. “Sure.”

You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.

“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”

As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”

Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?

The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.

The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.

“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.

“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”

“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.

“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”

Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.

You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.

“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”

“Payback?”

“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.

“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”

You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”

“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”

“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.

“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”

Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”

“Eh, ten.”

You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.

The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.

The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.

That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.

Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.

The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.

The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.

You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”

Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”

“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”

You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.

Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”

You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”

“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”

You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”

You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”

“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.

“What?”

“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”

You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”

“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.

“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”

Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.

You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.

You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.

Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”

“Absolutely!”

-

Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.

Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.

At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

-

A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.

The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.

For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.

“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”

Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”

The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”

“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”

He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.

“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”

The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”

He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”

“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.

“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”

The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.

His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.

He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.

-

The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.

“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.

It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.

“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”

Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”

“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.

Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.

“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.

“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.

In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.

“Sure.”

As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.

On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.

The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.

The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.

The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.

By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.

“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.

“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”

Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”

You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”

“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.

Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”

“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”

How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?

“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”

“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.

The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”

Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”

You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”

After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”

“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”

Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.

The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.

Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.

The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.

Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”

You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.

“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.

“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”

“Why?”

“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”

You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”

“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.

“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”

“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”

“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”

“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.

“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”

“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”

No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.

“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”

“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.

“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”

“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”

“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”

“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.

“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”

“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.

“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”

“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.

Because it turned into hell.

-

As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.

It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.

Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”

“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.

He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”

“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.

“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.

You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.

The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.

Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.

Right?

The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.

It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”

“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”

“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.

She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”

“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”

“Yes please!”

You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”

As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.

“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.

“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.

“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.

“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.

The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.

She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.

You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”

“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”

Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”

“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”

As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.

“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.

“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.

You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.

Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.

He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.

With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.

His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”

Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.

Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?

Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.

Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”

Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.

Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.

You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–

“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”

No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”

You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.

Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.

You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.

“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”

She nods.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”

“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.

“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.

Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.

“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”

Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.

“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.

“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”

“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.

“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”

“When did you start coming?”

“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”

Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.

Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.

Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.

The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.

“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.

“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.

Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.

“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”

“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.

“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.

“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.

“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”

“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”

“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.

In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.

The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.

As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”

The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.

Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.

Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”

Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.

Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”

If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.

On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.

Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.

Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.

She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.

“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.

“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.

You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”

“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”

“Sweet.”

“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.

“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”

You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”

“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.

“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.

She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.

Oh. He’s not going to.

“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.

Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”

Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.

If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.

Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”

You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.

You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.

-

Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”

“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”

“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”

That, you agree with.

“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”

You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.

You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.

That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.

The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.

It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.

It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.

As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.

Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.

Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.

As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.

A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.

Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.

The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.

You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.

Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.

His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.

She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.

Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.

You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.

The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.

The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.

When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.

You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.

-

The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.

Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.

He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”

You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.

“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”

You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.

“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.

“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”

“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”

“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.

“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.

“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.

“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”

Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.

“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.

“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.

“Can we do something? Just you and me?”

He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”

…that never happened.

-

The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.

That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.

Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.

Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.

Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.

It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.

Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.

It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.

Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.

Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.

It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.

Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.

Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.

When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.

“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.

“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”

“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.

“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”

You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.

News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.

Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.

When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.

As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.

“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.

“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”

Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.

You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”

“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.

Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.

You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.

“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.

The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.

Daniel.

“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”

What the fuck?

The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”

“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”

Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”

“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”

You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?

His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.

The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”

The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.

Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.

When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.

The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”

You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.

Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”

He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”

He stands there, blankly watching.

“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”

Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.

“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.

“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”

You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.

Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.

“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.

By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.

He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.

He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.

The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.

As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.

Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.

From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.

-

The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.

As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.

On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”

You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”

He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”

As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.

“Anything after that?”

You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.

“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.

“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?

Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.

“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.

Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.

“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”

Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.

Eddie.

“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”

“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.

Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.

“Is that all?”

He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.

The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.

Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.

Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.

For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.

Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.

This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”

You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.

“It’s me.”

You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.

-

Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.

He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?

You would think.

So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.

Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.

The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.

Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.

“I didn’t even know he was having one.”

She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”

He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.

He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.

By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.

He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.

Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.

Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.

He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.

Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.

“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.

His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.

The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.

Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.

Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.

He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.

Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.

Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.

When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.

Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.

No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.

Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”

“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Is she okay?”

“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”

Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.

“Physically?”

Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”

“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”

Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.

“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”

“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.

“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.

“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.

“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”

“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.

Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”

“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”

Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”

Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”

“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”

“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”

“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”

“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”

-

“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.

But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”

“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”

You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”

Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”

You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.

It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.

Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.

“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.

Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.

The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.

Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.

“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”

“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”

If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”

As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.

He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–

“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.

“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.

His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”

Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”

“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.

“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.

“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.

She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”

“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”

“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”

“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”

“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.

“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”

It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”

Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.

“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”

“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”

Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.

“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”

On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.

Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.

“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.

“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”

His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”

Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.

You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.

Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.

It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.

You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”

“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”

“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”

-

You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.

The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?

He’s more than willing.

When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.

Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”

You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.

White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.

The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.

As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.

It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.

The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”

You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”

You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”

You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.

He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.

The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.

Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.

“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.

You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.

“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”

“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.

His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.

“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.

You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”

His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.

Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.

His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.

The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”

You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.

You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.

Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”

It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”

“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.

“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.

Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”

The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.

He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”

“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.

“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”

“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”

Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”

Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.

It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.

Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.

“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”

“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”

Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”

You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.

He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”

You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.

On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.

The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.

You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.

Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”

He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.

There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.

Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.

All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.

Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.

“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”

You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”

“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.

“Probably.”

He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”

Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”

The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.

Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…

“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.

“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”

It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”

Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.

This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”

He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”

You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”

“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”

You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”

He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”

He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.

“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.

Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”

You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”

“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”

His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.

Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.

You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.

He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.

He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.

You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.

You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”

“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”

With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”

You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”

“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.

“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.

“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”

He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.

You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.

I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.

You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.

The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.

You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.

The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.

At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.

You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.

You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”

You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.

“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”

Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.

“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”

Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.

“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”

Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.

His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”

His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.

“What was that?”

He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”

You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”

“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”

A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”

You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.

He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.

“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.

You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”

Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.

You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”

“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”

“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.

“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.

“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”

“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”

You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.

“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”

You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”

He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.

His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.

“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.

“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”

“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.

“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.

“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”

“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.

Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”

His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.

He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.

“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.

“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”

Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.

You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”

You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”

He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”

It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.

-

Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

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[hairmetal666]

"But why is he here all the time," he whines to Robin. She doesn't like him much, but Scoops is empty, and what else is he supposed to do? Not speak to her at all?

"Why do you care what Eddie Munson is doing at the mall."

"I don't care." He scoffs, rolls his eyes. "He's just always here. Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"Do you?"

"He doesn't work here."

"Haven't seen you doing a lot of work here, Steve."

"You spent forty minutes yesterday drawing on your sneakers."

She shakes her head, but doesn't say anything because he's right and she knows it.

He goes back to staring at Munson, sitting on the edge of the fountain. He's relaxed back, legs spread, looking like he owns the place. The way he's leaning, his t-shirt rides up, showing a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin and the lightest dusting of hair. He doesn't remember his mouth being so dry before.

"You're such an idiot." Robin smacks herself down beside him. "Eddie's a good guy. Is this just because he's the freak and you're King Steve?"

"No!" He says it too loud, a few people in the foodcourt turn to stare. "I'm not that guy anymore. That's all just--" he flaps his hand, can't find the words.

She makes a disbelieving noise, eyes narrow. "I'll never forgive you if you hurt him."

Robin stomps off to the backroom before he can stop her, tell her he doesn't want to hurt Munson.

One of Eddie's friends says something that has Eddie stretching back to hear, pulling his shirt higher, flashing the dark line of a tattoo, and that's too much, that has him slamming his eyes closed, rubbing at his brow but all he can think is--

cold cinder block at his back, hot mouths and fumbling hands and long, deft fingers; desperate, bitten off moans; hands fisted into long curls; the hot, bittersweet taste of him

It was only a handful of times, quick encounters in the locker room, once under the bleachers in the gym. And Steve, he'd never--it didn't mean anything, but it meant everything, and Eddie's been all he can think of for months.

A group of middle school girls comes in, then, and he forgets about Munson as he scoops ice cream and blends milkshakes. The next time he looks to the fountain, Eddie is gone

---

Steve cleans up the remnants of a dropped milkshake at the store entrance, and his shorts are a little too tight, okay, he can feel the way they pull around his hips when he bends too much, but he has to clean the tile before the rush starts and customers complain. There's one spot, though, it's already dried, has to really put his back into it.

The food court is crowded by the time he finishes, bustling with customers. He turns to grab the bucket, and stops dead in his tracks. Munson sits on one of the built-in planters directly behind him. He was staring at Steve's polyester clad ass, but now his eyes travel up Steve's body, getting darker with desire as they go.

He's trapped in place by the force of Eddie's gaze, by the want there. They stare at each other in silence, Steve's blood thumping a vigorous rhythm.

The moment breaks when Robin's voice, calling his name, catches his attention. He turns back to his work without a word, but inside he's reeling.

---

Steve's opening alone, comes out from the back, and there Eddie is, lounging on the fountain rim with a magazine in hand. It's been a couple of days since he's been around, not since the incident. He watches as Munson languidly flips through the pages, seeming not to have a care in the world, and he--

Well, he's never really had to wait around for something he wants.

He stalks over to the fountain, stops when the tips of his sneakers touch the toes of Eddie's boots. And, yeah, he's in his dorky sailor outfit, but Munson didn't seem to mind the other day. Steve thinks maybe he likes it.

"Munson," he says. His hands are on his hips.

Eddie looks up, slow, taking Steve in. He leans back further, crosses his legs at the ankle. "Harrington."

They stare at each other. Steve starts biting his lip. Not as a move--he's nervous, suddenly, that all of this is a waste and Eddie isn't interested--but Munson's gaze hooks on his mouth, lingers, like a warm caress.

Steve's never initiated things between them before, isn't sure if it's working. He takes the chance, though, starts walking away.

He crosses through the seating area, past the counter, into the back, doesn't know for sure if Eddie is following until the door doesn't close right away behind him.

There's a single beat of a second where they watch each other and neither moves, before Eddie is on him, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into the wall.

"What the fuck is this, Harrington, huh?" They're close enough for their noses to touch. "You ignore me for months and now--"

"You're here all the fucking time," he snaps back. "Sitting in the same spot like you own the place."

"So, I'm not allowed to be at the mall now?" Eddie sneers. "God forbid I'm in sight of the king."

Steve tries to pull away. "That's not what this is, and you know it."

"Then what is it, Stevie? Spell it out for me real slow to make sure I understand." He leans in, a little, and Steve stops breathing.

Eddie's lips brush his, a gentle press that isn't quite a kiss, not yet. His knees go weak, the wall at his back the only thing holding him up, but the kiss doesn't deepen. Instead, Eddie steps back, laughs. "You think I'm this easy, sweetheart? That you can lure me with your little sailor costume and I'll come without a fight?"

"Am I wrong?"

Eddie scoffs, turns his head, and Steve thinks he overplayed it, that his misread everything.

"Fuck you, Harrington." Eddie grabs him, then, hands fisting into his sailor shirt. "Fuck you and this stupid, sexy outfit. Fuck you for knowing this would work on me."

His mouth presses against Steve's throat, and he moans, clinging to Eddie's jacket.

"Listen to you, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "Making all those desperate, pathetic sounds for me. Almost like you missed me or something."

"I did." He groans as Eddie's mouth moves along his jaw. "Missed you so much, haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Eddie sinks his teeth into Steve's cheek, and he has to stifle his shout. He's harder than he can remember ever being before, thinks he could come just from the feel of Eddie's teeth in his skin.

"That's not what you told Billy," Eddie says. "When he almost caught us."

"I didn't want him to hurt you," he gasps. "I--I didn't want him to have a reason."

Eddie pulls away, Steve grasping after him. "I can handle Hargrove."

"He hit me in the head with a plate." Steve points to the small scar on his forehead. "That's how I got that concussion last year."

"Oh," Eddie blinks. He cards his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling it out of the way to see the scar better. "Sweetheart. I thought--" he swallows, throat working. "I--I keep coming here to see you. I wanted--"

His hand falls to Steve's neck, drawing him in. For a second, Steve thinks it's another tease, but Eddie does kiss him this time. It's deep, desperate, so thorough he thinks Eddie's memorizing the taste of him. He doesn't want it to ever stop, not for a second.

Outside, someone starts hammering on the counter bell, shouting for service.

They slip apart, Eddie still gently cradling the back of Steve's neck. "Come over tonight?" Eddie's eyes are so dark, wanting, he could drown in them.

"Yes." Because there is no other answer.

He lets Eddie out the back door just as Robin yells from the front, "Harrington! We have a customer! I haven't clocked in yet!"

"Be right there," he yells back, but not fast enough that she doesn't catch a glimpse of Eddie slipping out.

She whirls to him, brow in an angry furrow. "Steve! I told you not to hurt him!"

He can't stop his smile. "Buckley, I promise you, Munson can take care of himself."

[inkedbybarnes]

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie seemed to have zero impulse control when he's not actively thinking about it. After Vecna Eddie moved in with Steve because he and Wayne didn't have a new place yet, plus, Wayne was living out of a motel. It was not a place for someone with wounds like his. Also, he was still waiting to be cleared of all charges. Steve was well enough to take care of Eddie. The metalhead was still in a lot of pain and on as many painkillers as he was allowed the first time that it happened. Steve was leaning over to fluff his pillows, and his lips were close to Eddie's face. It was all Steve’s fault, really. Eddie was thinking about how pretty his lips were when he decided to grab Steve by the back of the neck.

"What are - MMHH!"

Eddie brought his lips to his, and it was the sweetest kiss that Steve had ever experienced. It had left his lips feeling all tingly. Steve could easily pass it off on the fact that Eddie was high, and that was exactly what he did do. He never brought it up or told anyone about it. . .not even Robin. He really couldn't ignore it, though, when it happened a second time.

Eddie was feeling a lot better and could move around the house a lot more. Steve had finally been able to cook dinner for the both of them after living off other people's cooking and takeout while they both healed. They had finished eating when Eddie lumbered over to him and spun him around, cupping his face.

"That was the best home-cooked meal I've ever eaten - MUAH!" Eddie exclaimed, kissing him square on the mouth. "You go settle down. I'll handle the clean-up, big boy."

Steve had frozen a little. Surely, Eddie knew what he was doing? Since he hadn't brought it up, Steve decided not to bring it up either. . .except when it happened a third time. Eddie was completely healed, and he was able to be let out of the house since he was he officially cleared of all charges. He wanted to meet up with Corroded Coffin at Gareth's since they refused to come over to Steve's house despite the fact that Steve had told them they were welcome anytime. Even though he understood where they were coming from, it still stung that they refused to even try to get to know him. Anyways, Eddie was on his way out the door except for the fact that his keys were lying on the counter.

"Hey, did you forget something?" Steve asked.

"Oh, right," Eddie said, twirled around and kissed him while scooping up the keys. Then he was gone.

Okay, he really couldn't ignore it this time. Steve really needed to talk to someone about the kisses and about how much he liked them. He needed to know what that meant, and he knew exactly what kind of conversation this would turn out to be.

"Eddie keeps kissing me," Steve said as soon as Robin got in the car.

"I'm sorry, what?" Robin said, blinking.

"You know how Eddie's really affectionate," Steve replied. "Does it bother you when he kisses you?"

"Oh, you mean like kissing on the forehead and the cheek? No, I think it's sweet, actually," Robin said and rolled her eyes. "Are you feeling a little insecure in your masculinity because a man is getting a little affectionate with you?"

"What?! No, I don't mind getting affection from a man, Robin. You know I hug Argyle all the time," Steve said. "I'm just wondering why Eddie kisses me on the mouth and he doesn't do that with anyone else."

"Stop the car!" Robin screamed, and Steve pulled over the side, parking the car.

"Jesus, Robin!" Steve exclaimed.

"Eddie's been kissing you on the MOUTH?!" Robin asked.

"Yeah. He doesn't do that with you?" Steve asked.

"No, I think that's a treat only for you," Robin said.

"But why? We're both straight," Steve said. "I mean, I'm not trying to complain or anything, it's nice but why is he doing it?"

"You like it when he kisses you?" Robin asked.

"Yeah," Steve shrugged. "If I were into men, I'd be asking him on a date, but I'm not gay, Robin. . .well, maybe just for Eddie. Is it possible to be gay just for one person?"

"I mean, maybe, but I doubt that it's the case here," Robin said. "Usually, I would probably let you figure this out for yourself, but considering how long you kept it hidden that you like Nancy Drew, it might just take a while. . .do I have permission to rip off the band-aid?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess," Steve asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, how the hell were you so sure about Vickie and completely clueless about yourself?" Robin asked.

"Are you still on it that I totally called it about Vickie being a lesbian before you did?" Steve asked.

"She's not a lesbian, dingus," Robun said.

"Okay, I was pretty sure that you two were dating. Robin, she's clearly into you, so I'm pretty sure you have a shot," Steve said.

"Yeah, we are dating but she's not a lesbian," she said.

"I'm so confused," Steve said.

"In more ways than one," Robin said.

"Robin, we're going to be late for work," Steve said.

"Vickie is a bisexual," Robin said. "She likes more than one gender."

"Oh. . .oh, like David Bowie!" Steve exclaimed. "Right?!"

"Right," Robin said.

"Oh my god!" Steve said. "My Tom Cruise obsession suddenly makes sense - I didn't want to be him - "

"Not to mention, all those times you've stared openly at Eddie along with his posters of Eddie Van Halen and Kirt Hammel. . . "

"Kirk Hammett, Robin," Steve scoffed. "Eddie would rip you a new one for getting that one wrong."

"But you knew it because Eddie did," Robin said.

"I like him," Steve said with wide eyes.

"Yeah, buddy. Are you going to need a minute?" Robin said.

"Nah, I'm fine. I actually feel really good about it," Steve grinned.

"Not even a little freak out?" She asked.

"Nope!"

"Lucky bitch," Robin muttered.

"I'm sorry, the next time I have a realization about myself, I'll make sure to give you the freak out that you deserve," Steve said.

"That's all I'm asking," Robin said.

They spent the morning shift talking about Eddie and what he'd say to him once he got home. Steve debated on giving him flowers or not, or a stuff animal. He decided on a stuffed animal because that was more permanent, as Robin had pointed out. They were just about to take their break for lunch when Eddie strolled in.

"Hey," Steve said brightly. "I was just thinking about you."

"Yeah?" Eddie asked and leaned against the counter. "That's good to know."

Eddie leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. This time, Steve responded to it, cupping Eddie's face as he deepened the kiss. He could feel Eddie smile against his lips. Steve heard Robin scrambling to lock the front door and close the newly installed blinds. Eddie wrapped his arms around him, nearly climbing over the counter to do it. Finally, Robin coughed loudly and they broke apart.

"Hi," Steve said breathlessly.

"Hi," Eddie said. "I got something for you."

He climbed over the counter and sat down in front of him. He pulled out a rock and handed it to Steve.

"It looks like a guitar pick," Steve said with a grin.

"I thought you could use it for good luck," Eddie said.

"That's very sweet, thank you," Steve said, blushing. "I'm going to keep it forever."

"So, your boyfriend did good?" Eddie asked.

"Boyfriend?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I know we're taking things slow, but I was hoping that you'd consider me being your boyfriend," Eddie said.

"Yeah, uh, it's just - it might be the concussions, but I don't remember asking you out or you asking me out," Steve said.

"Oh, you definitely asked me out," Eddie said.

"Oh, God, Robin. The doctor said if I started having memory problems - " Steve said with wide eyes. "I'd definitely remember asking you out."

"Honey! I'm sure it's fine!" Eddie exclaimed. "Robin was there, she'll tell you!"

"I was NOT!" Robin yelled, her eyes going wide. "Or was I? Oh, god, what if I hit my head and I don't remember?! I'd remember my best friend asking out a man!"

"Okay, don't panic, Robin, we'll call Hopper - " Steve started to say.

"You really don't remember?!" Eddie shrieked.

"No!" Robin and Steve yelled.

"Seriously, Robin, you were there, and you turned into a giant duck which, by the way, is rude because you know about my fear of ducks!" Eddie yelled.

"Oh, Eddie, goddamnit, was this a dream?" Steve asked.

"You know what? Now that I'm thinking about it, I think it might have been a dream," Eddie said.

"Okay, those looks you've been giving me make a lot more sense," Robin said. "Have you been living in fear of me randomly turning into a duck, like I'm some sort of. . .wereduck?"

"I don't know, your name's Robin, and we've all been through crazy shit. . .anything is possible," Eddie said.

"Aww, and you've hugged me even though you're scared of ducks," Robin cooed.

"Well, it's my fear, my responsibility. It's not your fault," Eddie said and then looked at her. "But you're not, though, right?"

"No, Eddie," she said softly and then affectionately, "You dingus."

"This whole time. . .," Eddie trailed off. "We haven't actually been dating. You never asked me out."

Eddie started to scramble off of the counter when Steve grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Let's fix that. . .Eddie Munson, do you want to be my boyfriend?" Steve asked.

"Fuck yeah, I do," Eddie grinned.

He grabbed the back of Steve’s head and crashed their lips together. Eddie sighed and leaned his forehead against Steve’s.

"No one better fucking wake me up," Eddie breathed and Steve laughed.

"Oh God! I think my nose is turning into a bill - quack, quack!"

"Robin!"

[catastrophicdisasters]

apologies, i'm still angry abt TUA S4

so, if we take out all of the blatant issues with the season (character assassination, 'resolutions' that create more plotholes than they solve, rushed scenes that make no sense, side plots that go nowhere, raymond vanishing for no reason, etc etc), what are we left with? let's see:

fatphobia (multiple jokes made about 'chubby Diego', when David just looks hydrated and healthy)

SA played for jokes (it's clear that Klaus having sex while possessed is supposed to be funny, but he's being held hostage and forced to do this for money, when we already know he didn't even want his powers back??)

cheating

problematic / borderline problematic age gaps (either way you spin it, either Five is physically 20-26 while Lila is likely mid 40s, or Five is mentally 70s while Lila is mid 40s; Aidan was 19 while filming, and Ritu was 34)

waiting for the actor to come of age before introducing a romance (we already know what some fans can be like over Five/Aidan, this will not have helped; I would be horrified if I found out the show runners had planned a romance arc with a coworked 15 years older than me and then waited for me to turn legal age to execute it)

sexism (i was reluctant to call it that but i also don't know what else to call it - Lila basically had her agency stripped away to become the love interest two men fought over; Steve wanted Five to have a romance and didn't care who with - use Lila simply because she was there)

complete disregard of character trauma (Klaus being buried alive despite it having been mentioned in every prior season that he was locked in a mausoleum by Reginald, including literally being left to die)

possible overstepping of an actor's boundaries (i've not been able to verify this, but i've seen it said that robert sheehan has requested not to do sex scenes?) (still havent been able to prove this; wasn't an issue with other roles so... hesitant to leave it)

actors requests being ignored (David asked multiple times if the Lila cheating sideplot was required, but clearly it went ahead anyway)

bad cgi

that awful vomit montage

Reginald (im not quite calling it abuse forgiveness but uh. it's not far off tbh)

i don't even know what to call this, but basically told the Hargreeves the abuse they suffered was their fault because they shouldn't even exist??

what did i miss? (im sure there's something)

from the replies:

the song in the ep3 dance scene uses a slur for romani people (and is also about a man and an underage girl)

SA dismissal (it's literally never addressed that Allison SA'd Luther last season. like, at all. everything's just a-okay now!)

more sexism (Allison's arc was also reduced to serving men; there's a single line to explain that Ray left, with no mention of why (i could go OFF about this but this post isn't supposed to be about mishandling of characters); even after everything, all her bonding with Claire comes through Klaus's storyline. also, Sloane is just gone and nobody gives a shit - Luther has one line and that's it??)

so many issues with consent (all of the girls shown in the place Klaus works look drugged / Klaus doesn't want to be there and doing any of that, it's all against his wishes / they all get their powers back against their wishes - although they do tell Ben that wasn't his choice to make / Klaus gets his powers back against his will when Allison is pressured to do it to save his life)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Who's the Dad?

Prompt Day 31: Midnight | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Modern AU, Established Steddie, Middle Age, Steddie as Parents, TikTok Trend, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Goodie Doesn't Want to Hold That Baby, New Year's Eve Fun is Different When You're Older

"Why am I holding this baby?" Goodie asks, taking Betts from Robin and awkwardly holds her up in the air under her arms. Looking right at her, as if he's willing her not to cry. 

She doesn't, but Betts is highly suspicious of this arrangement. 

Goodie is too, apparently. He might cry first.

Eddie laughs, "That's your niece. Act like you've met before." 

They're gonna have to set this to music, and hope the lip-reading lady doesn't come along and expose them.

Steve is recording on Robin's phone, falling victim to another tiktok trend, but he can't wait to see if the internet can guess who her dad is. Especially since she has two. They're kind of cheating, but that just makes it more fun.

They pass her to Jeff next, and Jeff does better, but grins as he passes her back, "I think that I might be the obviously incorrect answer." 

Eddie laughs, "Adoption, man. Lots of options. Just act cool."

Steve's not sure any of them can be cool. Not anymore. They're too old for that.

"Why are we doing this again?" Goodie asks, hovering behind Jeff, as if he's scared he might be handed her again.

"Because we're bored. And old. And if we want to stay awake for midnight to ring in the new year we need to be entertained for the next four hours," Steve explains.

New Year's Eve isn't as wild as it once was, that's for damn sure.

As soon as Gareth walks in the front door, Steve is filming as Robin immediately hands Betts over to him. Gareth takes her with one hand, gripping her little thigh as he holds her securely to his side. 

Then he looks around at them looking at him, "Why are you all looking at me?"

Everybody just laughs.

Betts isn't paying much attention to Gareth, but she's used to him. Gareth's girls are older, and he's definitely been hands-on to get his baby fix from a kid he can hand back when she starts to cry or needs a diaper change.

Eddie gets his turn, making her laugh and Steve thinks it's very cute. Then Eddie takes the camera for Steve to have his. Betts pays exactly no attention to him, preferring to look over his shoulder at everyone else in the crowded house.

Then they keep moving: Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Jonathan, Argyle. The video's gonna be ten minutes long at this rate.

Robin posts it, the clock strikes midnight, and Steve doesn't think anything of it. Not really.

But when he wakes up in the new year, they've gone viral. Really viral. Thousands of comments are full of guesses, some right, some wrong. And lots and lots of thirst that's spread around to all of them. It's…a lot. It's a lot.

Eddie's already scrolling through them before Steve's even found his glasses.

"Why do they think Gareth is her dad before they think it's me?" Eddie asks, indignant. 

"They don't not think it's you. There are lots of offers to birth your baby if she isn't yours," Steve argues. And there are. Some of these comments are filthy.

"Everybody thinks it's you, and if not you, then Gareth," Eddie says, still complaining. 

He's not totally wrong. 

"They only think it's me because they've dug through Robin's profile. They're cheating," Steve says.

"No, they think Betts looks the most comfortable with you!" Eddie says, and Steve is afraid this is gonna turn ugly, quick. She wasn't uncomfortable with Eddie, she was being entertained. Of course she was looking at him.

Steve needs to diffuse this, but Eddie keeps going, "Elizabeth. How could you?"

He's so dramatic. Steve loves him, but it's too early for this.

"You were making her laugh. Of course she was gonna be looking at you," Steve suggests, trying to keep this from becoming an issue.

"Well, what about Gareth?!" Eddie says, shrill, poking at the screen of his phone.

"Gareth has kids. They had twins, Ed. He's incapable of being uncomfortable holding a baby, it was beaten out of him by overexposure. He could hold two babies at once. One is nothing."

Eddie laughs, but Steve can tell his feelings are a little hurt. They shouldn't have done this, but it just seemed like silly fun. Especially to see the uncomfortable ones, like Goodie and Mike, struggle to look like they've ever held a baby before.

Some of the guesses for Steve were because she paid no attention to him. He's old news. But a lot of them honestly were people digging into Robin's profile, seeing that he is heavily featured, but not watching the videos to see that they are best friends, not a couple.

Yeah, she was comfortable in his arms, and had no reason to check him out to make sure she wasn't gonna get dropped on her head. Gareth had the same vibes.

Eddie had decided to entertain her, and the audience, and that certainly worked against him. It charmed everyone, and Betts was clearly comfortable with him, but they weren't sure she was his, because of it.

"They think she looks like you," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "Well, we all know that's not true."

Eddie finally laughs, the crisis averted, and rolls closer to Steve. Steve wraps his arms around him, pulling him in tight.

Betts starts crying through the monitor on the nightstand.

"I think you should go, as her favorite," Eddie says, burying his face into Steve's pillow. 

Yeah, yeah. He'll take one for the team. Eddie gets today to whine about this, but that's all. That's it.

Steve stands, and throws a t-shirt over his head, and heads for the bedroom door, "That's fine. I'll go continue to woo her to my side. As the favorite."

Eddie lays there for a second, and when he finally processes it, he says, "Hey! Wait a minute!"

And Steve just laughs as he closes the bedroom door behind him. This will fix itself by noon. Guaranteed.

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you've seen this trend on tiktok it is generally pretty easy to tell who is the dad! I think the secret is don't look at who the baby looks like, look at how they're being held and if they are curious about the situation they've found themselves in, lol.

[littlexdeaths]

she fuckin’ hates me - e.m.

enemy eddie munson x fem reader x crush steve harrington

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: hate fucking, semi-public sex, mean!dom eddie (he’s secretly down so bad), fingering, they both call each names (slut, brat, asshole, dickhead), big dick eddie, unprotected piv sex (the condom breaks oops), unintentional cream pie, little sprinkle of angst

a/n: this is entirely inspired by that one audio by eyesofsuggestion (getting hate fucked on your crushes bed by his best friend).

word count: 3.5k

also huge shoutout to both @strangerstilinski and @uglypastels for helping me so much. i appreciate the hell out of you both. and also to @lesservillain for giving me the condom idea. enjoy my lil freaks xx.

“Looks like someone’s not enjoying the party…”

You barely register his deep voice over the thumping bass from inside the house when you stomp out onto the patio.

The night air feels nearly as sticky as inside the house, the amount of bodies pressing together causing the temperature to skyrocket.

But the moment you see his lanky figure leaning against the side of Steve’s house and the burning cherry of his cigarette in the dark— you’re half tempted to turn around.

You were already having a terrible night to begin with but you weren’t about to let Eddie Munson make it any worse for you. Knowing this was partially his fault to begin with. 

“What‘s it to you, Munson?” you spit.

His answering chuckle has you gritting your teeth, tucking your skirt under yourself as you sit on the patio steps.

“Oh nothing…” he hums, taking another long drag from his cigarette. “It’s just hard not to notice how you’ve been throwing yourself at Steve all night.”

While you hate to admit it, and you wouldn’t out loud— Eddie was right.

You’d gone out of your way to pretty yourself up for him, wearing your lowest cut blouse and your shortest skirt in hopes of getting his attention. You stayed by his side, laughed at all his jokes. Despite all the effort you put in, Steve barely spared you a passing glance.

It was such a total switch from how he was acting towards you the previous weekend. Steve had barely got you in his bedroom before his hands were in your pants. But now he was too busy shoving his tongue down a pretty blonde’s throat to even notice your absence.

“I haven’t been throwing myself at anyone, dickhead,” you roll your eyes with a scoff.

Eddie just laughs again, leaning his head back against the siding. “I wouldn’t have assumed  Steve’s dick game was so good that you’d be crawling back for sloppy seconds.” 

And when you turn to glare at him, you can’t help but admire the way the smoke unfurls from his plump lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, prick.” 

“— Hey now,” he mocked you with a slight pout, “Don’t take your sexual frustration out on me, princess. I was just stating the obvious.”

You avert your eyes before he catches you staring, but that frustration mixed with unkindled desire continues to mount between you with each passing second. 

So when your eyes are drawn back to him, you aren’t entirely sure why. 

As annoying as Eddie could be, you can’t deny that he was attractive. And if his shitty attitude towards you wasn’t the reason that Steve kept blowing you off, maybe you’d actually like him. 

“Oh, fuck you.”

“— you’d like that wouldn’t you?” he teases.

While your face shows mock disgust, your body betrays you when you feel wetness beginning to pool in the fabric of your panties. 

“In your dreams, Munson.”

Eddie smirks a little, taking that as a challenge.

“What are you, scared?” 

Under normal circumstances, you’d tell him to fuck off and leave you alone. Perhaps it was your hormones getting the best of you. 

But there was something about the way the moonlight catches on his rings, and the pale glow that casts shadows over his handsome features— that’s making you think otherwise.

“I mean… I don’t see anyone else lining up to take that bratty ass of yours home.” Eddie takes one last, long drag but this time he notices the way your eyes linger on his lips.

You make it almost too easy.

“And it would be a damn shame to let all that hard work of yours go to waste, you know?” he continues casually while he snuffs out his cigarette. “Since Harrington, clearly isn’t appreciating it.” 

And you really can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Eddie closes the remaining distance between you, causing your head to tilt back as you look up at him in utter disbelief.

“Don’t act so coy, I saw how you were looking at me just now…”

Beneath his cocky demeanor, his heart is about to pound out of his chest. 

Because unbeknownst to you, the real reason Steve was avoiding you at every turn was entirely for Eddie's benefit. He was just trying to be a good friend.

Eddie holds up his hand before you can say anything else, his lips lifting in a shit eating grin.

“Besides, we both know that if it’s not for me, you’ll be going home with an empty cunt. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Your body flushes at the vulgarity of his words, but you mull them over nonetheless. 

While you didn’t like him, despised him in fact— this could be an opportunity to get some pent up frustration out of your system. Since it was clear Steve wasn’t up for the challenge. 

So you tuck your lower lip in between your teeth and you rise to your feet.

“Fine,” you hum and there’s a sudden flash of surprise in his eyes. Like he half expected you to tell him to go fuck himself and storm off, but it’s gone just as quickly. “On one condition.”

The patio steps put you an inch or so above him, so now he has to look up to meet your gaze.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that, princess?” he smirks.

You grip the fabric of his t-shirt in your fists, urging him closer. You can feel the heat radiating from him, your breasts now flush against his chest.

“You keep that big mouth of yours shut.”

And you use the advantage of your slight height difference to press your lips to his before he has a chance to respond.

Eddie all but groans into your mouth as tugs you closer, hands gripping onto your hips before splaying over the curve of your ass. When he slips his tongue in your mouth, he tastes like a dizzying combination of nicotine and cheap beer.

But the taste somehow leaves you wanting more.

So when you start to grind yourself onto his jean-clad thigh, he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. The male fully enjoys the pitiful whimper it pulls from you.

“If you think I’m fucking you out here… you’re out of your goddamn mind,” he pants into your open mouth.

“Well if you had somewhere else in mind maybe you should try taking the reins, hotshot,” you fire back.

Eddie takes a single step up the stairs to place himself at eye level with you, as if to even the playing field. 

And you just stare at each other, both your eyes are ablaze with a mixture of annoyance and lust. It's Eddie who eventually breaks your gaze to brush past you and continue on towards the house.

He dares a glance over his shoulder once he reaches the patio door, a brow rising beneath his bangs as if to give you one final chance to back out. But you don’t want to give him that satisfaction.

No one spares either of you a second glance when he leads you up the stairs and pulls you into the first bedroom on the right. 

You know upon entering that this is Steve’s room, recognizing the checkered wallpaper from the weekend prior. But you don’t have much time to dwell on it before his lips are back on yours and he’s leading you towards his best friend’s bed.

“In here?” you say between heated kisses, earning you a deep hum when he pushes you down onto the mattress.

“What Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?” he mused, dark eyes admiring the way your skirt has risen up your thighs. “Unless… you really wanna make him jealous.” 

Eddie crawls over you after shrugging off his leather jacket and you can already feel how hard he is through the rough denim. You tug harshly on his hair when his lips trail down across your neck, teeth scraping against the hollow of your throat.

But the ache between your thighs only becomes stronger with each press of his lips, and in turn causes your already thin patience to slip further.

“Get on with it already, I don’t have all damn night.”

You can feel his laughter vibrate against your sweaty skin but his hand dips between your thighs nonetheless. Eddie cups your clothed pussy in the palm of his hand, pulling a breathy whine from you when he presses the heel of it against your clit.

“Hmm, givin' an awful lot of attitude to someone who's just tryin’ to do you a favor, sweetheart.”

You merely roll your eyes in response, reaching between your bodies to palm over the bulge that’s straining against the fly of his jeans.

“Huh, seems to me that you like my little attitude, asshole.”

The male groans into your neck when you apply more pressure, his hand quickly gripping onto your wrist before he pins the both of them above your head.

“Ya’know I usually love a bit of a challenge, but you sweetheart, are a giant pain in the ass.”

You giggle mockingly, tilting your head at him with a slight pout, “Aww, Eddie— I didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”

If only you knew… 

That laughter morphs into a soft gasp when he yanks your panties down your thighs with his other hand. Those calloused fingers slipping between your slick folds to circle over your swollen bud.

His nose skims along the curve of your shoulder, greedily inhaling your perfume. Enjoying the way your body practically shudders beneath his own.

“So sensitive…” he coos mockingly, the tip of his middle finger brushing over your puckered hole. “And I’ve barely even touched you yet.”

Any snarky comment dies on your tongue when he slips the digit inside, his thumb pressing firmly on your clit. A small mewl gets caught in your throat when he slides another finger in and your body welcomes the stretch.

Eddie can only grin wider when you grind your hips down onto his fingers, his other hand releases your wrists to tug down the front of your blouse to free your breasts. He has to hold back a moan of his own when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra, his lips latching around your nipple.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, your fingers tangling themselves in his wild mane while his curl up inside you.

“If only Steve could see how much of a fucking mess you’re making for me,” he taunts, leaning his mouth down to suck on the underside of your breast. “Bet he’d be so pissed that you’re ruining his expensive sheets, sweetheart.”

Your answering whimper has him chuckling, urging him to thrust his fingers even faster inside you. Ultimately proving his point as you can feel the wetness dripping down your ass and onto the sheets. But the noisy glide of his fingers are nearly as taunting as his words.

“E-Eddie— I…” your chest heaves as you trail off, feeling that rubber band in your middle about to snap with each pump of his fingers.

He knows what that blissful look on your face means and it brings him a little too much pleasure to see it crumble when he completely removes his fingers from inside you. Your cry of frustration has his cock practically throbbing in his jeans, sticky fingers hurrying to unbuckle his belt.

“Nah uh,” he tuts. “You don’t always get what you want, brat.”

Eddie pushes his jeans and boxers far enough down his thighs to free his cock, the sight of it momentarily distracting you.

He was big, much bigger than you anticipated.

Part of you was almost worried he wasn’t going to fit. Eddie must see the mixture of surprise and awe written across your features, as he leans forward to swipe his thumb along the corner of your mouth.

“Drooling already? You flatter me, sweetheart.”

He reaches over for a condom in Steve’s bedside drawer, ripping the packet open with his teeth. But Eddie can practically see the flash of disappointment in your eyes when he rolls the latex on, which only causes him to laugh harder.

“Oh how cute, you thought I was gonna fill you up, baby?” he all but sneers as he grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together. “A slut like you has to earn that privilege.”

He lets go of your cheeks, ringed fingers spreading your thighs apart and pulling you down toward the edge of the mattress. Positioning you in just the right spot so he can tap the head of his cock against your clit.

The wet slapping noise it makes has him grinning even wider and it takes everything in you not to slap that look right off his face.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna actually fuck me?” you huff.

He tilts his head at you, a little surprised by your sudden outburst. And to think you were being so good just a minute ago.

“See, that’s not what we’re going to do, brat.” He clicks his tongue, his other hand gripping the meat of your thighs a little harder. “Keep giving me that attitude and I’ll have no issue walking out of here and burying my cock into someone else.”

You just glare at each other, in a silent struggle for power. But this time you are the first to crack when you cast your eyes downward. That uncomfortable silence stretches on for a moment too long, which he mistakes for regret. 

He’s about to tuck himself back into his jeans when you grip onto his wrist with a soft whine.

“N-No, shit— please don’t go.”

Eddie just raises an eyebrow at you, not impressed by that meek attempt at begging. So you blow out the breath you were holding, swallowing your pride when your eyes flick up to meet his.

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Please.”

You feel incredibly pathetic begging Eddie Munson of all people. But you also can’t deny the way your cunt practically throbs when you feel the thick head of his cock glide against your entrance.

“See? Now was that so hard?” he snickers, giving you no warning before he’s guiding the head inside your sopping cunt.

“Jesus— fuck, you’re tight,” he blurts, marveling as your pussy practically sucks him in. 

You let out a gasp when he bottoms out with a low hiss, his own head tipping backwards when you clench harder around him. But the male doesn’t move a muscle, his hands gripping onto your hips to keep you in place.

An act of mercy really— he doesn’t want to hurt you.

While you are grateful for the reprieve, that slight sting soon fades into a dull ache and you desperately need more.

When Eddie feels you start to squirm in his grasp, he groans low in his throat. His head tips back down to meet your half lidded gaze while he carefully guides his cock out before sliding it back in.

He works up a steady rhythm, but slow enough to keep you both teetering on the edge of desperation— until you can’t take it anymore.

“God— go faster,” your attempt at a direct order comes out as more a breathy plea instead.

But he doesn’t need to be told twice, his hands coaxing your trembling legs over his shoulders before slamming his hips back into yours. An elated moan leaves your lips, fingers gripping onto the sheets as you eagerly meet each hard thrust he gives you.

“It’s too bad Harrington’s missin’ out on all this,” he grunts, his eyes darkening as he watches that creamy ring around his cock expand with each snap of his hips. “But I can put in a really good word for ya, princess.”

And when your eyes roll back, it’s not from annoyance this time— as he hits your sweet spot dead on.

“I hate you,” you huff regardless, but your words don’t hold nearly as much malice. 

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” 

You miss the smug look that crosses his features when your back arches up off the mattress and you cry out his name repeatedly.

“That’s it, brat— say my name louder. Let them know… let Steve know who’s making you feel this good.” 

Your nails dig into his forearms as he fucks you even faster, a low growl pushing past his lips with each hard thrust. The bed creaks harshly in protest but that doesn’t deter him in the slightest.

If anything— it encourages him to go harder, bucking into you like some wild animal. The little uh, uh uh’s that he pushes out of you are music to his ears, the sounds becoming higher in pitch the closer you get to the edge.

And when your eyes flutter shut, he only quickened his pace. The brunette practically bends you in half as he leans into you, this new angle forcing him even deeper.

“Look.” Grunt. “At.” Grunt. “Me.” Grunt.

In your blissed out state, you miss the hidden meaning behind his pointed words. 

When you manage to finally open them, he’s closer. A lot closer than you expected. So close you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and the sweat that dots his upper lip. 

Maybe you’ve never wanted to admit it to yourself before, but Eddie really was gorgeous. And from the way he’s gazing down at you, pupils blown out and glassy, you can only assume he feels the same about you. 

And that last bit of self control slips when you smash your lips together.

He kisses you back just as forcefully, effectively stealing the air from your lungs. Gasping for breath, your fingers begin to loosen their grip on his arm. Slipping them between your bodies to rub quick circles over your swollen bud. 

The sensation has your walls squeezing tighter around him, earning you another throaty moan. 

“See how much easier you are to deal with like this, baby?” He mumbles against your mouth, enjoying the small scowl that crosses over your features. “All cockdrunk and stupid… it suits you.” 

While you open your mouth to throw one last insult his way, a pointed thrust into your sweet spot has you trembling. A loud squeal leaving your lips instead when you tumble over the edge. 

And Eddie can’t take his eyes off you as you fall apart beneath him, memorizing each expression with the utmost sincerity. Even if you did hate him, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Oh, atta girl…” he praises, his hot breath fanning over your lips while he continues to bury himself inside you.

You feel the sudden snap of the latex before he does. The male blissfully unaware as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and finishes with a deep groan, unintentionally filling you up in the process.

“Hm, guess I got what I wanted after all,” you laugh a little breathlessly. 

Eddie lifts his head in confusion, the realization finally dawns on him when he feels his warmth start to trickle down your thighs. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He curses as he pulls out, making an even bigger mess of both you and the sheets in the process. 

“Stupid, fucking cheap ass condoms,” he huffs under his breath, chucking the broken rubber into the trash. 

Although his jaw is clenched in annoyance, his eyes are now transfixed on where his cum begins to leak out of your puffy pussy and onto the bedspread.

Unable to stop himself, Eddie reaches out a hand to graze along the underside of your ass. He collects some of the mess on his fingertips and guides them back inside you.

And despite the sensitivity, the possessiveness of his actions has your walls clenching around his dexterous fingers.

Everything comes to a sudden halt when the bedroom door swings open, knocking into the wall.

“Alright you horny shits, time to…” Steve trails off once he sees the two of you, honey hues widening in disbelief. “In my bed, Munson? Really?” 

Eddie doesn’t bat an eye, merely straightening up from where he was hovering over your half naked form whilst you quickly tug the sheets over yourself from sheer embarrassment.

Now all Eddie can see is the way you're looking at Steve. Something sour settles in his stomach, a tangle of jealousy and hurt. While his heart rate slows, his defenses go back up. 

That feeling prickles along his skin as he tucks himself back into his boxers and re-fastens the button on his jeans. 

"Was just warmin' her up for ya, man," Eddie says through his teeth. 

Steve's look of confusion deepens as he glances between the two of you, knowing that this is exactly what Eddie had wanted. 

But now Eddie won’t even look at you. 

He doesn't see the conflicted emotions swimming in your eyes when he speaks again. Throwing the words over his shoulder without a second glance as he grabs his jacket and turns to leave. 

"She's all yours, Harrington." 

That lie burns on his tongue like acid, but he doesn't look back.

taglist: @xxbimbobunnyxx @bimbotrashcan @popbangcrash @corrodedcorpses @demibats @hellfire--cult @calumfmu @bastardstevie @emmypoisonedqueen @probablyin-bed @luv4peterba1lard @stolen-in-moonlight @potatobeans99 @your-nightmaredoll @rebelfell @josephquinnsfreckles @chaptersleftunwritten @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @callsignmedusa @splendiferous-bitch @spenciesprincess @creepycranberry @idkwhattoputhere08 @obsessed-midwest-princess @joequiinn @celestialbat @rosekicks @not-my-lover @alba8688 @kellsck sorry if i missed anyone!

[bluemoon-fever]

needy

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

summary: steve rogers is a very needy man.

word count: 2.45k

warnings: fluff, smut, dub-con (reader is tipsy, but not drunk), unprotected sex, possessive steve, allusions to DD/lg (but not really), D/s undertones, daddy kink, soft!dom!steve, begging, hand job, oral (male and female receiving), rough sex, fingering, light choking, spitting, dacryphilia, praise kink, grinding, mention of safe words, nipple/breast play, cum play, creampie, aftercare, it's filth, but it's also fluffy MINORS DNI

a/n: so i've been having this in my head for over a week, and i'm excited to finally share. i also have something else planned with steve (maybe a mini series or something. i'm still planning). while all can read, i do write with black/poc readers in mind! i hope you all enjoy! Reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated! <3

not edited.

DO NOT COPY OR STEAL THIS POST. I do not give permission for my work to be posted on another site.

A symphony of giggles and clumsy steps lets Steve know that you’ve just arrived home. He’s at his desk, working on a new art piece. It’s a drawing of you sleeping soundly in your shared bed based on an image he snapped a few days ago. He goes to hide the drawing, wanting it to be a surprise for you when he’s done.

He hears you fumble with your phone and tell your friend through a fit of giggles that you made it home safe. Then, Steve hears the sound of you taking off your heels and walking into the kitchen. He sighs, waiting for you to finally finish up whatever you were doing and come back to him. It had been about three hours since he last saw you, and he had missed you.

On his days off, Steve cherishes your time together. It’s very rare that he gets days to be home, draw, and just relax, but when you told him you had plans to go to brunch with your friends, his mood soured a bit. He didn’t want to keep you from his friends, but he was feeling very selfish over you. He wanted you all to himself. This morning, he tried to convince you to stay in bed, but after about an extra 15 minutes of cuddles, you told him you had to get ready. He threw a pout at you that made you giggle, and you kissed his cheek all sweet before you got up to get ready. He watched as you got dressed and put makeup on which he constantly told you, “You don’t need it.”

“Thanks, babe, but I just wanted to be dolled up. It’s been forever since I’ve gone out.” Steve winces at your words. He had just gotten off a long mission, and since he had been back, he had been more focused on relaxing than taking you out on dates. Even though you never complained about it, he knew you were in need of a fun outing. That’s why he couldn’t be too mad that you were so quick to agree to brunch with your best friends. You knew he wasn’t in the mood to be out and about, and he didn’t want you to sacrifice your need for socialization just for him.

Well, he did, but he would never ask you to do that. Not when you’re his perfectly sweet, beautiful girlfriend.

Steve volunteered to drive you to brunch, but you said you already agreed to a carpool. When he volunteered to bring you back home, you shot that down (unintentionally). One of your friends agreed to be the designated driver. Steve held in a grunt, but his frustration dissipated slightly when you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and lips. “I love you! I’ll be back before you know it.”

And here you were, but what was taking you so damn long?

Steve was about to rise until he heard you slightly stumble towards the room. Your cheeks were flushed red, a sign of the bottomless mimosas he knows you downed at brunch. Your lipstick was long gone, leaving a slight pink tint on your lips. The rest of your makeup looked fine, and you were actually glowing. Your outfit, a black mid-length, bodycon dress, clung to your curves perfectly. Steve felt his dick start to stir. 

God, he wanted needed you so bad.

“Hi, baby,” you said. You held a bottle of water in your hand and took a sip as you walked in the room. You weren’t drunk, but he could tell you were tipsy. You threw a playful smirk as you sauntered towards him. “I missed you.”

For some reason, Steve didn’t want to give into your sweetness. While he had missed you and missed your body, he wanted you just as needy as he was. He wanted you to need him so bad you were begging for it. While his exterior remained stoic, something feral bloomed inside of him that he had to stifle his own smirk.

You moved directly in front of him and leaned down to give him a kiss. When you didn’t feel him return it, your face flashed concern. Did you do something wrong? Was he mad at you? You began to feel nervous under his gaze. Rather than say anything, you moved to straddle him and began to burrow into his lap. You faced him directly and wrapped your arms around his neck. When his expression didn’t budge, you buried your face into his neck and inhaled his scent.

God, you needed him so bad.

As you shrunk yourself in his lap, Steve gave a small smile. Seeing you become so little was making him harder. He knew after one drink that you were affectionate and needy. At events, you’d seek him out, attaching yourself to his side or finding some way to touch him. He had you right where he wanted you. You had mumbled something into his neck that took him from his own thoughts.

“What was that?” he asked, keeping his voice firm.

“How was your day?” you said softly, almost at a whisper. You turned your face and looked up into his sparkling blue eyes. You were so damn sweet he felt he was getting a cavity. “Are you enjoying being off?”

“It was fine,” he said, telling the truth. It was just fine. If you were with him all day, laying naked next to him, it would have been everything he needed. But seeing you concerned about him, being so sweet and kind, made him want to just pick you up and make sweet love to you in his bed. But a strong part of him didn’t want that; he wanted to ruin you and make you more pliant. “How was brunch?”

“It was nice,” you began, playing with the hairs in his beard. “But I really missed you, Daddy.” 

Fuck, he thought. Here you were, his perfect girl, wrapped up perfectly in his lap and pliant. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He gripped your face in his large hands and began to kiss you passionately. You didn’t even try to keep up, letting him push his tongue past your lips and claim your mouth. You began to whine, and Steve felt you begin to grind against his hard-on. He shifted his hands to your neck and pulled you back.

“If you missed me so much, baby girl, then show me.” Your eyes were blown wide with lust. Your lips swollen and pink. You nodded and began to pull his dick out of his sweatpants. You began stroking him, creating a steady rhythm that made Steve catch his breath. “Fuck angel.”

You shifted off his lap and moved his rolling chair back. You settled yourself between his legs. You began giving kitten licks to the tip of his cock before staring up at him with the kindest eyes; Steve had to fight the urge to blow a load on your face. You teased him a bit more with the licks before swallowing his own length down. Steve gripped the back of your head, pushing his length further down your throat. You struggled to take all of him, and the sensation of it made him pulse a bit down your throat. He pulled you off of him and took in your state. Your eyes began watering, your mascara starting to smudge under your eyes. Your mouth was wet with saliva. Steve wishes he could take a picture of you, seeing you ruined made further awakened a beast within him.

You reached for his cock, moving your mouth back on him. He watched in amazement as you tried to deep throat him on your own. You began looking up at him, your eyes looking as big as possible. How you managed to make yourself still look innocent while sucking his dick was something.

“Look at my pretty girl, sucking her Daddy’s cock. You’re doing so good.” You keened over his praise. He watched as you attempted to move your hand under your dress to gain some relief, but he grabbed both of your hands and held them above you. He removed your mouth off of him as gently as he could. You stared up at him waiting for his next words.

“Get on the bed.” He let your hands go and watched as you moved quickly to kneel on the bed. Steve didn’t even bother making it, leaving your bed sheets at the foot of your mattress. You placed your hands in your lap. He got up and cupped your face in his hand. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before his hand moved to pull the thin strap of your dress down. “How are we feeling?”

“Green,” you told him. You gave a small smile. “I need you.”

“I know. Be patient, baby.” If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black…

He pushed your shoulders back as a sign for you to lay back on the bed. He moved to pull your dress off, you lifting your hips to help him. You were left in just a lacy pink thong and strapless bra. You moved to pull the bra off and placed it on the floor next to your bed. You grabbed his hand and placed it on his chest. You were so desperate for some sort of relief.

Steve began massaging your breast, his fingers pulling at your nipple. You let out a breathy moan from the sensation, happy to finally feel something. Steve’s eyes darkened when he saw your hand slip inside your panties, and you began to play with yourself.

“How bad do you need me? How bad do you need your Daddy?” he asked, almost mockingly.

“I need you s-so bad,” you cried out. “I’ve missed you so much. Thought about you the whole time at brunch. Please, I need you.”

Steve removed his hands, causing you to whine. When you looked up at him, you saw him frantically stripping out of his sweatpants and white tank top. He didn’t even bother with underwear, secretly praying that you came home exactly like this, and he would have easy access.

His mouth began an assault on your neck. He pulled your hand out and roughly pulled your panties down, flinging them somewhere in the room. He kissed down your body, spending precious time kneading and kissing on your breasts before he found himself in between your legs. Without asking, you opened yourself up to him. “Please, please, please,” you whined.

Steve dove in, essentially making out with your pussy. You cried out, and he placed his left hand on your stomach to hold you down. His other hand began to push into your core, finding that spongy spot that instantly had your hips bucking. He looked up at you through his thick lashes, watching your face contort into pure ecstasy. He found your bundle of nerves and began to suck while continuing to play with you like you were his favorite instrument (you were). You immediately began singing out, a sign you were close. It was music to Steve’s ears, your incoherent cries.

Steve lifted up, removed his fingers from your core, and watched as your face fell in betrayal. “If you’re going to come, it’s going to be on my dick,” he spat at you. “Open.”

You opened your mouth, and Steve spit down your throat. He captured into another filthy kiss, you grabbing onto his back to pull you into him, trying to become one. He lined up himself at your entrance before pressing in quickly, filling you up quickly. You broke the kiss to moan, tears spilling from your eyes from the pressure. Steve felt himself grow harder as he began to lick at your tears. You felt so defiled, so nasty, and you couldn’t get enough. You began scratching at his back, desperate for him to move, for him to finally let you come.

“D-daddy, please. Please move. Please!” you begged. “Please, I need it. I need to cum. Please let me cum!” Tears began to spill from your eyes. Your face was so utterly fucked out that Steve could have came right then in there. But you were giving him everything he wanted, and now, he finally could oblige.

He began roughly fucking into you, pulling your legs into his arm to change his angle. Your back arched off the bed, and your moans grew louder. Normally, Steve would cover your mouth, not wanting to face your neighbors after this, but he didn’t care. He wanted the whole world to hear him fucking his perfect, sweet girlfriend on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. You grabbed at your breast and Steve brought his face down to one, popping one of your hard nipples into his mouth. You clenched harder around him.

“Steve, I’m s-so close. May I cum? Please, may I cum?” you asked so nicely. 

“Yes.” You came with a cry, your body shaking as Steve continued to fuck into you. Seeing you fall apart gave him a second wind and he kept fucking into you. You fell into a second orgasm, your eyes beginning to close in exhaustion, but Steve didn’t relent. He pulled out and turned you on your side like a ragdoll as you laid limp on the bed. He immediately rutted back into you, his pace relentless. His release was building up. “Come on, baby. Come with Daddy. Just give me one more.”

Steve came with a roar. He looked down at your coated juices on his dick and fucked it back into you. He couldn’t wait to see himself leaking out of you. Honestly, if you gave him a minute, he could go again and have you filled with him for days. The idea of you filled with him, possibly making his child made him cumming again.

He collapsed on top of you, softly kissing your face. You started giggling before turning and grabbing his face in your hand. You captured his lips in a long, soft kiss. You whined as he pulled out of you, and Steve shifted next to you. Looking down at your legs, his eyes darkened seeing his spend leak out of you. He gathered it and pushed it back inside of you. You winced at how sensitive you were, but Steve knew you loved when he’d play with your mixed releases. 

Steve rose and grabbed your water bottle, making you drink a considerable amount before placing it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. He lifted you up and placed both of you under the covers of your shared bed. He pulled you into his chest as you lazily rubbed circles into his chest and him on your shoulders.

“I love you,” you whispered before softly kissing at his chest and closing your eyes.

“I love you too.” Steve was happy. His perfect girl was finally in his arms, just like he needed.

[buckyalpine]

Chicken nuggies.

Crack thought with all the fluff. ALL the fluff. Maybe a tiny dash of angst at the start but it's to set the plot.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong went sideways as soon as the mission started. The team was ambushed. Bucky was separated from everyone else. His trigger words blared through the speakers and there was nothing anyone could do to stop the soldier from awakening.

Worst of all, you were badly injured. Steve groaned in pain, struggling to pull himself up when he saw the solider lock his eyes on your limp form, taking long strides towards you with purpose.

That wasn't good.

"Tony-I-I need back up, y/n is-what the hell"

Steve blinked watching his friend pick you up with the utmost care, holding you securely in his arms. A hydra agent attempted to order him, only to be silenced with a knife thrown to the throat. The soldier made his way towards the exit with you along with a limping Steve trailing behind him.

"Buck-

"Быстрее" [move] he ordered, carrying you close to his chest and sitting in his designated on the spot on the jet. He didn't say a word as the others filed in, growling when Tony didn't start the engine up fast enough. No one dared look in your direction, not wanting to make the wrong move and happy that Bucky had busied himself with looking over your injuries, mumbling in Russian while letting his hand brush over your cheek.

As soon as the jet touched the ground, he was on his feet and carrying you over to the medbay, refusing to set you down until he saw a doctor ready to help. While it wasn't exactly protocol to have him in the operating room while the doctors worked, no one was interested in arguing back with him when he placed himself in a corner, watching intently. His blue eyes which were normally filled with warmth and softness were now stone cold, eyeing every single movement of what was being done to you, his gaze relaxing when the surgeon gave him a shaky thumbs up.

He sat by your side the entire time, gear still strapped to his body, watching the steady beep of your heart monitor while you slept, the rest of the team quietly waiting outside. Sam peered in, quickly retreating back when Bucky glowered at him, getting up and closing the door so you could rest. He and Steve continued to peep through the little glass window, immediately ducking when they could feel steel blue eyes watching him.

"Do we try and help or-

"I don't want to die yet, also based on what I'm seeing, y/n in the safest place she could be"

You sighed happily as you blinked awake, feeling hazy as if you were floating upon the softest of clouds. The room was bright and clean, you could have been in heaven for all you knew.

Or you were just high as a kite from all the pain killers.

Then you saw him beside you.

Such a gorgeous man.

Handsome.

One who gave you butterflies with shy smiles.

"Soldat" You giggled, reaching over to stroke his scruffy cheek, brushing your thumb over the scowl on his lips, "Hi" You admired his sharp jaw, idly tracing over his features while his mouth twitched into something of a smile, all his muscles finally relaxing seeing you awake.

You yawned, stretching yourself out like a kitten out before rolling over with a flop to face the very pretty man who was sitting at your bedside. Your admiration was cut short with the rumble of your tummy.

There was only one thing you wanted now.

"Soldat, I want chicken nuggies" You demanded, the growl of your stomach solidifying your request. He simply nodded, getting up and out of his seat, making his way over to the one place he knew you'd want your "nuggies" from.

"H-how may I h-help you" The Mc Donald's cashier stared at the numerous guns and knifes strapped to the infamous soldier, his metal arm pointing to a kids meal combo that came with a 6 piece nugget.

A little red box was placed in front of him at lightening speed but that wasn't good enough. He peered into the bag, frowning when he saw a toy that you already had. He grabbed it and placed it back onto the counter, staring at the trembling employee while they rummaged to find a new one, grabbing fistfuls and stuffing into the bag instead. The soldier nodded when he was given one you didn't have before, making his way back to ensure you were fed.

It didn't take long for the news outlets to catch on that the Winter Soldier was out buying Happy Meals.

*Tony's suit, Thors hammer, Steve's now broken shield and some gentle deprogramming later*

"Still want more nuggies" You murmured against Bucky's chest, still a little hazy while he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I'll always get you chicken nuggies, doll"

[brunchable]

UNDER HIS COMMAND [R 18+]

Steve Rogers × Agent!FReader

Words: 6.2K Warming: Age Gap (reader in early 20s), unprotected piv sex, domineering acts. oral (both receiving), dirty talk, praising. Summary: You drove Steve to his utmost limit, but what is it going to take to get him to calm down? A/N: I rewatched the old Marvel movies and have been feeling feral towards coughCAPT'Ncough. Bon appetitties?

The mission had gone sideways in a way that left Steve Rogers simmering with frustration. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, a foreign sensation that made his chest tight and his thoughts cloudy. You had gone against his direct orders, putting yourself in danger—again—and it had pushed Steve to his breaking point.

As you stood in your private cabin, both your voices echoing off the walls, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You had no right to do that, Y/N!” Steve’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharper and louder than you’d ever heard it.

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you fought back with all your frustration. "I made that call because it was the right thing to do! I was not going to allow those people to die just because you were excessively consumed with following the agenda!

Steve’s fists clenched at his sides, his muscles taut with barely restrained anger. “This isn’t about saving lives—it’s about you ignoring direct orders! You put yourself in danger, and you compromised the entire mission! You can’t just act on impulse and expect everything to work out!”

As he felt feelings he wasn't accustomed to expressing, his normally composed demeanor began to crumble under the strain of mounting aggravation. It frightened him that he could feel his grip weakening. He had never been so furious with you before; the level of intensity was nearly too much to bear.

You stepped closer, refusing to back down. “I thought about it! I knew exactly what I was doing, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat! You’re the one who doesn’t get it! You’re so obsessed with being in control that you can’t stand it when someone else makes a decision!”

“This isn’t about control, Y/N! This is about you thinking you know better than everyone else! You think you’re invincible, but you’re not! One day, your recklessness is going to get you in serious trouble and then what? How are we supposed to deal with that?” Steve’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as the anger threatened to spill over. 

Your eyes narrowed, your voice rising in anger matching his. “You’re the one who’s supposed to trust me! But you don’t! You can’t stand it when things don’t go according to your plan, so you lash out at me like I’m some kind of liability!”

Steve took a step closer, the space between you charged with tension. “I trust you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit back and watch you throw yourself into danger without a second thought! You didn’t see how close you came, Y/N. You didn’t see what I saw!”

“What you saw?” you shot back, your voice shaking with emotion. “You’re always trying to shield me from things, Steve, but you can’t keep doing that! I’m not a child! I’m your partner, and that means you have to let me make my own choices, even if they scare you!”

As Steve struggled to control the flood of emotions that were about to overflow, his breaths came in short, quick bursts and his palms quivered. 

“You think I’m trying to control you? I’m trying to keep you alive! I’m trying to make sure that you come back, every single time! But you… you don’t think about what that does to me.”

“And what about what it does to me? Every time you go off on some mission, every time you put yourself in danger without thinking about the consequences, do you know what that does to me? Do you?”

Steve’s face twisted with frustration, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “I do know. I know because I feel it too, every time you do something reckless, every time you make a decision that could get you. . .” He couldn’t  say the word, “And it terrifies me, Y/N. It terrifies me because one day, I might not be there to save you.”

Even though he looks angry, worry is visible in his eyes. You tightened your jaw because you were at a loss for words to respond to him.

Steve pivoted and stomped out of the room before you had a chance to reply. He had to escape for a moment to collect himself before he spoke a word he would regret. Heading directly for the woodpile, he stepped outside, his breath coming in quick, angry bursts.

By the time you caught up with him, Steve was already there, his jacket discarded on the ground. He grabbed the axe with a force that sent a jolt of pain through his arm, but he welcomed it. He needed to feel something physical, something tangible to anchor him in the midst of the storm raging inside him.

Without hesitation, he began chopping. The axe came down with a powerful swing, the wood splitting cleanly in half. But it wasn’t enough. The anger was still there, burning hot and fierce in his chest, so he swung again. And again. And again.

These pent-up emotions had been growing for weeks, if not months, and it was evident in every swing. The fear that he would lose you, the frustration that you didn’t seem to understand how much he cared, how much it hurt to see you risking your life time and time again. He was feeling helpless and that his only option was to keep chopping, to redirect his wrath onto something that wouldn't harm you or ruin everything both had built together.

Steve reached for yet another thick log, this one feeling rock-solid and unmoveable. None of that mattered. His muscles tensed as he lifted the axe above his head, and he lowered it with such power that the wood splintered. Although he felt the hit all over, it failed to provide him with the relief he had hoped for. He was being torn apart by the rage that remained dormant, just below the surface.

“So this is it? You’re just going to chop wood until the problem disappears?” Amidst the steady clack of the axe on wood, your irritated, sharp voice sliced through the air.

Steve didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The overwhelming wave of feelings he couldn't articulate washed over him, leaving him unable to speak. He swung the axe again, harder this time, as if he could somehow chop away everything he felt.

But then, a switch went off in his brain. That axe wasn't cutting it. He needed more—he needed to break something with his own hands, to feel the physical release of the anger that was consuming him.

He snatched up yet another log, this one heavier and thicker than the rest. His hands, still trembling with fury, gripped the log tightly. His muscles bulged as he poured all his anger, all his frustration, into his grip.

“Steve, talk to me! You can’t just—”

But before you could finish, Steve let out a low, guttural roar and pulled at the log with all his might. The wood resisted at first, but Steve was relentless. His biceps strained, his veins standing out against his skin, and with a deafening crack, the log gave way. He tore it in half with his bare hands, the wood splintering under the sheer force of his strength.

The pieces fell to the ground with a heavy thud, the sound almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You stood there, frozen, your breath caught in your throat as you watched Steve’s display of raw power. It was terrifying—seeing him so close to the edge, so consumed by anger—but it was also something else, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You were genuinely scared by his actions just now. The shock that he could lose control, that he could be so driven by his feelings, was a stark reminder of how much he cared, how deeply he felt. But alongside that shock was a rush of something primal, something that made your pulse quicken and your cheeks flush.

You shouldn’t have found it attractive—this display of strength—but you did. Seeing Steve like this, so powerful, so intense—he never bragged about his power, and it stirred something inside you that you couldn’t deny. Your body reacts before your mind could catch up, a rush of heat flooding your senses.

Steve turned to face you, his chest still heaving, his eyes blazing. “What do you want me to say, Y/N?” His voice was rough, almost broken. “That I’m okay with you going off on your own and putting yourself so close to death? Because I’m not!”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You could see the chaos in his eyes. It made your heart ache. To him it didn’t matter if you were one of the best agents out there because he knew how life is so fragile, he knew because he's been around for ages—you forget that sometimes his cellular age is not twenty-seven.

For now, both of you stood there, the tension thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like an iron vice.

You took a shaky breath, the sound of it almost deafening in the quiet that had fallen between you. You knew you should say something, anything, to defuse the situation. But your throat felt tight, and the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to reconcile the man you love with the fury that had just been unleashed.

Steve’s chest heaved with each breath, his fists still clenched at his sides. He didn't know how to come down from the brink he'd been driven to, didn’t know how to deal with the mix of relief and frustration that you were standing in front of him, unharmed but defiant. 

His mind raced with the images of what could have happened, what might have happened if he hadn’t been there to pull you out of the fire. The thought was enough to make his vision blur with a fresh wave of anger and fear.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N,” Steve finally managed to say, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Do you understand that? I can’t. I don’t know what I’d do if something happens to you.” 

Your breath hitched, your heart hurt at the openness in his voice, and the urgent plea cut through your barriers. You knew how much he cared—how deeply he felt everything—but hearing it, seeing it in the way his hands shook, in the way his eyes were filled with unshed tears, made it impossible to stay mad.

Driven by a surge of emotion you couldn't contain, you briskly walked towards him. Steve kept his gaze glued onto you, anticipating your next move. In an instant, you closed the distance between you, your body moving on instinct alone. 

You leaped up, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, your hands fisting in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss that was searing, desperate, and filled with every ounce of the fire that had fueled the argument.

His kiss was intoxicating. You pressed yourself against him, your body molding to his as you deepened the kiss, your mouth moving against his lips with a fervor.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the heat radiating from his skin, and it only made you want him more, made you kiss him harder, as if you could imprint yourself on him, claim him in a way that left no room for doubt.

Steve's grip on you was bruising as his hands found your hips, pulling you even closer, his own body responding to the intensity of the moment. He angled his head, deepening the kiss further, your tongues clashing in a dance that was as much about dominance as it was about the overwhelming need to feel connected.

You let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating between you, spurring you both on. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you couldn't get enough. You shifted against him, your hips pressing into his, feeling the undeniable evidence of his desire for you, and it sent a jolt of heat through your entire body.

When you finally broke apart, it wasn't because you wanted to, but because you both had to breathe. Your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling, both of them trembling from the force of what had just happened. 

Your breathing was ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked into Steve's eyes, blue like the ocean but filled with fire. The air between you crackled with an electric tension, the heat of your shared desire still burning hot.

“I’m still mad at you. Chopping wood was not enough,” Steve whispered his voice rough, “I hope you're prepared for that.”

“Try me.” You replied breathily against his lips. 

Steve didn't need any more encouragement.

When he reached the back-door, he didn’t hesitate. With a powerful kick, he busted it open, the door slamming against the wall with a force that echoed through the room and shook walls.

Steve's hands gripped you firmly as he turned, pinning you against the nearest wall, his body pressing onto yours, the solid weight of him making you gasp. His mouth found yours again, and the kiss, filled with intensity that left you both dizzy, desperate for more.

You could feel the way his body responded to your every touch, every kiss. Your hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscle, needing to hold on, to anchor yourself against the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Steve's grip on you tightened, his hands sliding from your hips to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He pressed his lips to the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, making you shiver. The sensation sent a wave of heat rushing through you, igniting every nerve in your body.

“Y/N…” Steve's voice was low, a rough whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. You could feel the restrained tension in him, the way his body was coiled like a spring, ready to snap. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

Shit. He swore. Now you know you're in deep trouble—and it excites you. You tightened your legs around his waist, leaning into him as you captured his lips once more, this time with even more intensity, more urgency.

Steve responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours in a kiss that was possessive. His hands roamed over your back, his touch firm, grounding you as you lost yourself in the taste of him. His touch ignited a trail of fire everywhere.

He pushes the hem of your shirt above your head and pulls off your black tee shirt, tossing it aside like it was nothing, exposing your bare breast, then his mouth devours you. He suckles and licks urgently, opening his mouth wider to envelop nearly your whole breast. It’s as if he wants to taste every inch of your skin all at once.

You moaned and arched your back, which thrusts your breast against his face, causing your fleshy mound to squeeze against him and bulge out at the sides. 

His hand, rugged and calloused from years of relentless work, moved with purposeful intent to the other. He gripped your breast firmly and began to knead, applying a rough pressure on your flesh.

You squeeze his shoulders, grasping at the starched cotton of his shirt. It feels manly under your palms. Your mouth drops open when the shape of his hard cock lines up perfectly against you, applying a delicious pressure you desperately need. 

“Oh my—Steve. . .”

Any self-preservation you've been holding on to evaporates at the feel of his hot length, and your hips tilt into him on their own. 

You groan simultaneously at the much-needed friction. His scent, his rough groans, the tight hold of his large hands, the stab of his hot tongue—everything about Steve is strong, hard, domineering, and so deliciously male. 

His mouth leaves your breast whispering into your ear, “Are you going to disobey me again?”

“I can't promise you that I won't.” You try to pull back and drop your legs, but he grips your thighs, holding them open, and presses his bulging cock onto you.

He loved the way you looked, the way you reacted, and he loved everything about you. You were the most precious thing in the world to him. So beautiful, so sweet, so giving and too damn good for him, but he was a selfish bastard and wouldn’t let you go.

Ever.

His breath fans over your neck, and he whispers dangerously. “That so?”

You didn’t notice how you both ended up in the bedroom until he shoved you toward the bed, because you found yourself falling onto it, the descent feeling agonizingly slow.

Your head turned sideways just as it was about to collide with the mattress, but you were too shocked to react, too numb to fight back against what was unfolding.

Steve moved with a swift, commanding presence, leaping onto the bed and straddling your torso with an authority that pinned you down. His shirt was already on the floor when you met his eyes—dark, angry. A side of him you're seeing for the first time in the bedroom.

His muscles are swollen from chopping all that wood and splitting one in half with his hands. His abs were a testament to the discipline and strength he had cultivated over the years. The six-pack was not just defined but chiseled, each muscle distinct and firm beneath the taut skin. 

He pushed your thigh open with his knee, his palm grazing from your stomach, between the valleys of your breasts, stopping at where your collar bone meets the base of your neck. 

All of your focus is on its path, and you quiver when his thumb now brushes the bottom curve of your breast. 

“This is mine.” He twists your nipple, sending shards of electricity tumbling through you, and you buck against him, lust completely taking over all your senses. 

“Yes,” You gasp and roll your hips, willing to say anything he wants to get him to continue touching you, searching for the right position to hit your clit with the head of his cock, desperate for more.

His chuckles tickle the sensitive shell of your ear, and a shiver runs through you as the sharp ridges of his teeth gently close on the soft earlobe. “Such a good girl all of a sudden?”

He drags his hand down your body, exploring it like he’s mapping every inch of you by touch alone. He forces your jeans off, almost ripping it in the process.

His thumb grazes your clit through your underwear, and a pained cry escapes your lips. He craves knowing the sounds you'll make as he drives his cock hard inside you. He'd make you beg for more until you scream out his name as he sear himself into your soul.

“Do you know what good girls get, Y/N?” He slides under the thin fabric and circles the spot you need him the most. “Good girls get to come.” 

“Please,” you beg. Every molecule of your being is focused on his fingers. The weight of the air around you compresses until it’s hard to suck in your next breath. Tension radiates as you wait for what happens next. His touch is the only thing that matters.

He shifts you so he can reach lower, sliding wet fingers through your slit, then circling your entrance. You whimper his name as he sinks two fingers inside you. 

“Look at you, soaked for me. Ready. This pussy knows she’s mine.” His voice is a dark rumble as he pumps his fingers in and out in a slow, torturous rhythm.

“I need more,” you grind out through your teeth.

“Take it. Fuck my fingers,” he orders you against your ear and loosens his hold to allow you to take control. 

You wrap your arm around his neck, leveraging yourself, and grip his hair as you work yourself on his fingers. 

Steve’s breath comes out in hot pants against your jaw, and he bites down on the edge at the same time his palm massages your clit. You forget to breathe as you rock against him, your head buzzing with the lack of oxygen.

“Oh yes, right there.” You gasped.

“That’s my pretty little pussy, fucking herself so well.” He adds another finger, and your world goes blank. All that’s left are his commands. “Come for me.”

Tingles shoot up your spine as your entire body pulls tight, and then your orgasm crashes over you in shuddering waves. “Steve.”

He pumps every last ounce of your release, his hands glistening. “That’s it. Say my name.” 

“Steve,” You say, barely a whisper.

He withdraws his finger then and lifts his hand to your face, pressing his finger against your lips. It’s the same finger that was just inside you. 

“Suck it,” he orders, and you obediently open your mouth, sucking the finger in. You can taste yourself, your own desire, and it makes you even more turned on. 

When he’s satisfied that the fingers are clean, he removes it from your mouth, grasping your chin with his hand instead, forcing you to meet his gaze, “I'm going to ask you again, are you going to disobey me?” 

You stare up at him, mesmerized by the dark blue striations in his irises. Your body is throbbing with need, desperately craving his possession. You want him to take you, to fill the aching emptiness within.

A smile of defiance crept on your lips as you cocked your head forward, “My answer remains that same.” 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.” he warns, voice low, and a tremble runs through you. 

Your instincts are on high alert, but you don’t try to pull away. You swallow hard. “What game?” 

“The one where you act like all has been put aside. That you don’t already know who you pissed off. Or do you need a reminder?” He shifts his grip and circles your neck with his fingers, resting them on your collarbone as a warning. 

Heat pours into your core, and your clit throbs. A low moan escapes you, and his smile turns dark. He pushes closer, bent so his breath fans against your mouth. 

“I’m going to spin you around and fuck your pretty pussy against this bed, I think it’s fair I take out my frustrations on you. I will make you beg so hard, because baby, I can do this all fucking day.” He said with grit. 

Your ears ring, and all your thoughts vanish with his words. You push yourself up, closing the distance between your mouths. He groans deep and takes over the kiss, running his tongue against yours until you're consumed by him. Your head feels light from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t pull away, letting him do whatever he wants to you.

There’s a power that surges inside you, giving in to his control. No matter his threats, you know if you told him to stop, he would. 

He’s not gentle when he flips you on your stomach. His hands fisted at your hips and you heard a snap as he tore your panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred your desire to a fever pitch. 

You hear him unzip his jeans, and in your attempt to look, he presses your head hard into the mattress. Then, you feel him pulling while he collects all of your hair and wraps it around his hand with the intention of using it as a rein. 

You let out a whimper when Steve tugged harder. You don’t hesitate to move when his foot meets yours and spreads your legs further apart. He grunts in approval and runs his fingers up your slit, before his erection brushed between your legs as he moved and you whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given you earlier had only deepened your craving rather than appeased it. 

Then he shifts his hips a little and uses his hand to guide his shaft toward your opening. You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he begins to push inside. You're extremely wet, but you still feel uncomfortably stretched as he slides in all the way. Steve doesn’t give you time to adjust before withdrawing and slamming in again, his thrust doling out punishment and pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hisses when you squeeze around him, and a sharp slap lands on your ass. “You’re so tight.”

You bite your lower lip, trying to cope with the burning, too-full feeling. You clutch at the bed sheets, needing something to hold on to as the familiar tension starts to gather low in your belly. The head of his cock brushes against that sensitive spot somewhere inside you. You gasp as he pulls your hair harshly making you arch to take him deeper, needing more of that intense sensation, wanting to bring you over the edge.

“Oh my god, Steve, yes,” you cried, finding your face pressed into the mattress again and you could hardly breathe. All you can feel is him: the back-and-forth movement of his thick cock inside your body, the heat emanating from his skin. 

In this position, he goes deep, even deeper than usual, and you can’t help the pained gasps that escape your throat as the head of his cock bumps against your cervix with each thrust of his hips. Yet the discomfort doesn’t seem to prevent the pressure growing inside you again, and you feel climax coming again, your inner muscles clenching helplessly around his shaft.

“Oh no you don't,” He groans harshly, sensing that you're about to come. Then he pulls out. Leaving a void of emptiness that aches. The womanly fluids that leak down your thighs now felt cold, before you could protest, Steve flips you again and your eyes finally get to lay upon his magnificence, his erection at your eye level.

But all he does is look at you, a mocking half-smile playing on his beautiful lips. “You think I’m going to come inside you, Y/N?” he asks softly. “Is that what you’re expecting me to do?”

You blink, startled by the question. Of course you expect him to do that. You did something that upsetted him. Apparently reading the answer on your face, he smiles wider. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not exactly in a generous mood.” 

“Sit up and suck it,” he murmurs, looking down at you.

Aroused by the command, you fluttered your tongue across the underside and shivered with delight when he rewarded you with a hot burst of pre-cum. Fisting the root of him with one hand, you hollow your cheeks and draw rhythmically.

You cup his balls in your other hand and squeeze them lightly. He groans, his eyes closing and his hand fisting your hair, and you continue, moving your mouth up and down on his cock, swallowing him deeper every time.

Your head bobbed as you pleasured him, jacking him with one hand while you sucked and stroked the crest with your mouth. Heavy veins coursed the length of his cock, and you slid the flat of your tongue along them, tilting your head to find and caress each one. 

He swelled, growing thicker and longer.

“Baby, you suck me so good.” He held your head still and took over. Thrusting his hips. Fucking your mouth. Stripped to a level of base need where only the race to orgasm mattered.

You gripped his straining thighs in both hands, frantically working your lips and tongue, desperate for his climax. His balls were heavy and big, an audacious display of his powerful virility. You cupped them, rolling them gently, feeling them tighten and draw up.

“Ah, Y/N.” His voice was a guttural rasp. His grip tightened in your hair. “You’re making me come.” 

The first spurt of semen was so thick, you struggled to swallow. Mindless in his pleasure, Steve was thrusting against the back of your throat, his cock throbbing with every wrenching pulse into your mouth. You eyes watered and your lungs burned, but still you pumped your fists, milking him. His entire body shuddered as you took everything he had. The sounds he made and the muttered, breathless praise were the most gratifying you'd ever heard. 

You licked him clean, keeping eye contact the entire time, marveling at how he didn’t fully soften even after an explosive orgasm. He was still capable of fucking you senseless and more than willing to, you knew. He wasn't kidding when he says he can do it all fucking day.

× × × ×

“OH, God.” Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, your back arching as Steve pinned your hips to the bed and his lips circled your clit and his cheeks hollowed. Sucking rhythmically, he massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of his tongue.

Your skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, your vision blurring as your core tightened viciously in preparation for orgasm. Your pulse was thrumming and racing. You've comed twice already, as much from the sight of his blonde head between your legs as from his wickedly gifted mouth. 

“I’m ready.” You pushed your fingers into his hair, feeling the dampness at the roots. His restraint was costing him. You're overstimulated and he's taking the time to make sure you are soft and wet before filling you too full with his long, thick cock.

“I’ll decide when you’re ready.”

“I need you inside me, please. I won’t disobey your orders again.” You pleaded, bucking your hips towards his face.

“You ache without my cock inside you. You’ll say anything to have me there.” Steve crawled toward you like a sleek panther on the prowl.

“Yes.”

He hovered over you, his big body casting a shadow over yours. Tilting his head, he lowered his mouth and lightly traced the seam of your lips with the tip of his tongue. 

“You crave it. You feel empty without it.” 

“Yes, damn you.” You gripped his lean hips, arching upward to try to feel his body against your. You never felt closer to him than when you were making love, and you needed that closeness now, needed to feel like you were okay.

He settled between your legs, his erection lying hard and hot between the lips of your pussy. 

“I need you,” you breathed, rubbing your wet cleft shamelessly along the heated length of his cock.

“Not yet.” He moved, rolling his hips to find you with the broad head of his penis. He pushed gently against you, parting you, spreading you open as he slipped just the tip inside. You writhed against the tight fit, your body begging. 

“Fuck me. God … just fuck me!” 

Steve reached down with one hand and grabbed your hip, stemming your frenzied attempts to push up and take more of him.

You fought his hold. Your nails dug into the tight curves of his ass and you tugged him against you. If you didn’t get him in you, you thought you'd lose your mind. 

“Give it to me!”

Steve slid his hand into your hair, fisting it to hold you where he wanted you. “Look at me.” 

“Steven!” 

“Look at me.”

You stilled at the command in his voice. You stared up at him, your frustration melting as you watched a slow, gradual transformation sweep over his handsome face.

With his eyes still on yours, he reached beside him to claim your wrists. One at a time, he lifted your arms over your head, restraining you. Pinned to the mattress by his grip, his weight, and his unflagging erection.

Steve slowly enters you, penetrating you inch by slow inch. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and you moan again, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and you do it again, wanting more of the sensation. 

He opens his eyes and stares at you, his face taut with lust and his eyes glittering. You hold his gaze, fascinated by the fierce need you see there.

He began to thrust, stroking through the trembling walls of your cunt with the thickly veined length of his big cock. Claiming you. Possessing you.

You can hear his harsh breathing, and you know that he’s exerting a lot of control over himself, that he probably wants to fuck you harder but is trying not to ‘damage you beyond repair.’ Nevertheless, his movements cause your insides to twist and churn, causing you to cry out with every stroke.

“I love you.” your voice is barely audible, each word feeling like it’s being wrenched out of your very soul.

You can see his pupils dilating while grinding breathlessly, “Tell me again.” 

“I love you.” which came out like a small, helpless sound.

“I love you too.”

Struggling with the grinding urge to rock into the ferocious thrusts of his big cock. He shoved his other hand beneath your hip, cupping your rear and lifting you into his thrusts so that his cock head stroked over and over the spot that ached for him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, pounding his hips up at you, yanking your hips up to meet his punishing strokes. 

“Yes, yes! Come inside me.” you yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Steve hit the end of you with every deep thrust, battering into you. You could feel him growing harder and thicker. You watched him avidly, needing to see it when he went over the edge for you. His eyes were wild with his need, losing their focus as his control frayed, his gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax. 

“Y/N, I'm coming!” He came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted you with its ferocity. He shook as the orgasm tore into him, his cock jerking as it pumped thick spurts of scorching semen into you.

You climaxed in a rush that had you sobbing his name, your bodies convulsing as the sensation enhanced and magnified by the way he’d controlled your body. 

Steve laid on top of you, waiting for his cock to get soft before he pulled out. Your body remains convulsing under him.

“You’re a machine,” you told him, trying to catch your breath. “Or a god.”

Steve let out a low, breathless chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as he held you close. He laid beside you, his chest was still heaving from the intensity of what you had just done, but there was a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. Steve shifted slightly, so he could meet your eyes, his expression softening as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. 

“Maybe,” he murmured, his voice rough and warm from exertion. “But as much as I like the sound of being a god,” he continued, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I think I’d rather just be the man who’s lucky enough to have you in his arms.”

“Just don’t pull a stunt like that on me again and I’ll be fine,” he responded, his tone a mix of lingering concern and affection. But there was still an edge to his voice.

“But it’s against my nature to ignore—” you started, trying to explain yourself, but Steve cut you off, his gaze intense.

“Do I have to impregnate you? For you to think more carefully?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rough, teasing tone that sent a shiver down your spine. The words were provocative, laced with a mix of frustration and possessiveness that made your breath catch.

Your eyes widened slightly at his bold statement, your heart skipping a beat as the meaning of his words sank in. There was a challenge in his eyes, but also a deep-seated need—a desire to protect you, to keep you safe in a way that was so intensely Steve.

“Is that what it’s going to take?” he continued, his tone softening just a bit, though the intensity in his gaze never wavered. “Because I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re careful out there. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your mind racing with his words and the seriousness behind them. He wasn’t just teasing; there was a part of him that meant every word. It was possessive, yes, but it was also born from a place of deep love and fear of losing you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Steve’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Good,” he murmured against your mouth, his tone still laced with that protective tone. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight, not if I can help it.”

[sidekick-hero]

“Hey, have you seen Harrington? Guy’s totally wasted. Can't even stand. Tried to get up, fell down like a goddamn turtle. Garrison's over there throwing chips at him. It’s hysterical, you gotta check this out, man.”

The upside to being the guy everyone calls ‘the Freak’—the guy no one wants to talk to unless they’re looking to buy—is that Eddie can disappear whenever he wants. And tonight, he’s been in full stealth mode, almost ghost-like in the way he drifts through the shadows of this overcrowded house party. When he’s not standing on lunch tables at school, giving speeches, or taunting the assholes who think they run the place, Eddie finds that people tend to forget he’s even there.

Which makes it real easy to hear all kinds of things he probably shouldn’t. Not that Carver's announcement is any kind of secret, not with the way he’s broadcasting it to the entire room. Ever since Harrington lost his King Steve status, the rest of the jock squad has been scrambling to claw their way to the top. It’s desperate. Pathetic, really, if you ask him. But no one’s ever asking Eddie for his opinion.

He should get out of here. Most of his stash is gone, and it’s getting late. There’s leftover mac and cheese in the fridge with his name on it, and if he bolts now, he might just catch the midnight rerun of The Thing.

Eddie tries to ignore the mental image of Harrington—Steve, Steve—sprawled out on that grimy carpet, covered in crumbs and dirt, drenched in stale beer. He must feel defenseless. The kind of defenseless that Eddie knows too well, the kind that gets you laughed at, or worse. But just because Harrington buys a dime bag off him every week doesn’t mean they’re friends. Even if they’ve had a few surprisingly not-awful conversations. Even if Steve’s actually kind of funny for a rich kid, for a jock.

There’s no reason for Eddie to care about what’s happening to Steve Harrington, just like Steve never cared about him.

So why the hell are his feet carrying him toward the living room instead of the back door? Why is he elbowing people out of the way, pushing through the circle of gawkers around Steve? Why are his hands grabbing Steve by the shoulders, hauling him up, and dragging him out before anyone even knows what’s happening?

And why, for the love of God, is he driving to his trailer with Steve snoring in the passenger seat, instead of dumping the guy at his parents' mansion and going home?

Eddie wishes he knew. But his body’s on autopilot, and he’s watching it all happen like he's outside himself, like he’s not the one doing it.

The trailer park is quiet, too quiet for a Saturday night, but that’s January for you—cold as a witch's tit, and getting colder. The van’s heater barely works, and Eddie can see both their breaths fogging up the air, little puffs of steam in the dark.

Eddie cuts the engine, and the sudden silence fills the van like a held breath. Steve shifts in the seat, muttering something incoherent, his head lolling against the window. For a split second, Eddie considers just leaving him here. Would serve him right, honestly. Let King Steve wake up alone, freezing his ass off in a busted van in a trailer park at the edge of town. But then Steve lets out a soft groan, and Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes.

"You're a real piece of work, Harrington," he mutters under his breath, pushing open the driver's side door.

The cold air hits him like a slap, biting through his jacket and sending a shiver down his spine. He makes his way around to the passenger side, yanking open the door and catching Steve before he can tumble out. The guy's heavier than he looks—dead weight, limp as a rag doll. Eddie grunts, struggling for a grip, and finally manages to sling one of Steve's arms over his shoulder.

"Okay, big boy, up you go," Eddie mutters, half-dragging, half-carrying Steve toward the trailer. Steve's head drops forward, his hair brushing Eddie’s cheek, and he smells like a mix of beer, Steve's usual cologne, and something else—something clean, like laundry detergent or fresh air. It's weirdly comforting, and Eddie has to shake himself out of it.

Inside, the trailer is dim, lit only by the glow of the old TV Eddie left on. He kicks the door shut behind them, maneuvering Steve over to the sagging couch. Steve flops down with a heavy thud, eyes still closed, mouth slightly open. For a second, Eddie just stands there, looking at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing.

Why didn’t he just leave him there at the party? Why did he care?

Maybe it's because Steve looks different like this. Not the smug, popular guy who used to strut down the halls like he owned the place. Not the guy who had everything and then lost it all. Just... some kid, really. Some scared, drunk kid who probably doesn’t know where he fits anymore.

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” Eddie mutters, leaning down to untie Steve’s sneakers. “Let’s get you comfortable before you choke on your own puke.”

As he pulls off one shoe, then the other, Steve stirs, his eyelids fluttering. For a moment, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, but then his eyes lock onto Eddie’s, and there’s a flicker of recognition.

“Munson?” Steve’s voice is low, rough from whatever he’s been drinking. “What the hell…?”

“Yeah, it’s me, genius,” Eddie says, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. “You got yourself in a bit of a mess tonight, Harrington.”

Steve blinks, slowly piecing things together. “Why’d you bring me here?”

Eddie shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Seemed like the right thing to do, I guess.”

Steve snorts, like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Right. The Freak playing Good Samaritan. What’s the punchline?”

Eddie’s smile fades. It inexplicably hurts to hear Steve call him that. “There’s no punchline, man. Not everything’s a joke.”

Steve stares at him, as if searching for something in Eddie’s face, something to latch onto. Finally, he just nods, leaning back against the couch, eyes half-closed again. “Thanks,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear. “I guess.”

Eddie feels something strange twist in his chest. “Don’t mention it,” he says, a little too quickly, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Steve. He turns away, grabbing an old blanket from a nearby chair and tossing it over Steve. “You sleep it off. I’ll be in my room.”

But even as he walks away, he can't shake the feeling that something’s shifted tonight, some invisible line crossed. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe in the morning, Steve will wake up, make a snarky comment, and it’ll all go back to the way it was.

Or maybe, just maybe, it won’t.