#robin is a good wingwoman

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

On the Highway

18+ MINORS DNI because Eddie is a devil of a stripper.

"Oh my God, I can't believe we're doing this," Steve said.

"You wanted to know, didn't you?" Robin asked.

"Only because you pointed out that it's not exactly straight to check out everyone's butt," Steve said.

"Because it's not," Robin hissed.

Steve crossed his arms and slumped in his seat. They were both sitting in the far back of a male strip club in Indianapolis. Steve’s stomach was turning. He shouldn't be here. Oh. God. It was too late to leave, though. The show was staring, and the first of many acts came on. The music actually helped calm his nerves and focus on the performance. He had to admit that guy was a good dancer, but he was trying too hard muscle wise. He was definitely pretty, though, with exceptionally plump lips that Steve could definitely nibble on. . .okay, so maybe Robin was onto something. The performances were great, but they really didn't do a whole lot for him except make his stomach flutter. Although the previous act did make his cock twitch a little. It's wasn't until the very last act that Steve got his official confirmation.

"Introducing. . . SATAN'S SLUT. . .," the announcer introduced. "Really? Come on. Why am I friends with you? Oh, shit, I forgot to turn off the mic."

Highway to Hell by AC/DC started blasting from the speakers. A man with long dark curly hair burst forth from the curtains. He wore a long red cloak, a devil's mask, and black heels. Sliver rings glinted on his hands, his nails painted black. His hands went to his throat. Steve watched, enraptured as the man whipped off his cloak and threw it into the crowd. Oh, god, he was wearing a red thong, and his nipples were pierced. He also had tattoos. A weird looking old witch on his chest as well as a spider, bats on his arm, and some sort of puppet on a string on his forearm. His body was perfectly soft and pale. His long, skinny legs worked well with the black heels. Steve could imagine running his hands up those perfect legs, trailing up to cup his . . . Woah, his pants just got a little tighter.

The man started moving and dancing. He moved in a way that seemed physically impossible. Like a cat, he seemed like he was both a solid and liquid. He moved harshly against the pole, his hips thrusting in tandem with the song. Steve gulped, imagining his hands grasping the man's small hips as the man grinded against Steve. There was something familiar about the way the man moved, the way he moved his hands about. . .did Steve know this man? No, the world was small, but it wasn't that small. The man jumped around, his heels slapping into the floor as he turned his back to the crowd. He had a flaming sword tattoo on his back, slotting perfectly along his spine. The man peeled off his mask, held it out beside him, and dropped it. A woman was quick to grab it and slip some bills into the man's g string, letting her hands linger on the man. It caused the announcer to speak up.

"You get one warning, lady. Don't touch. Causing I'm telling you now this asshole bites and not in a kinky kind of way. As in, he'll break the skin and leave a permanent scar all because you ate his goddamn pretzels," the announcer said.

"Frankie!" The stripper yelled.

"Right, shutting up," Frankie said.

The stripper turned his head over his shoulder to give the crowd his best come hither look. Steve’s heart jolted in his chest. Oh, shit. The man he's been lusting after was none other than Eddie Munson. His brown eyes popped under the dark eyeshadow that he had painted across his eyelids. How had he not noticed how beautiful his eyes were?

"Yeah, I'm definitely a lesbian," Robin said, her hand over her eyes.

"And I - I am definitely not straight," Steve said. "I got to take a piss."

When Steve came back to their table, Robin gave him a look of disbelief.

"I know what you did in there," Robin said. "Gross."

"You mean, use the restroom?" Steve scoffed, blushing.

"You've got jizz on your pants, by the way," she said.

"Shit, I thought I was careful!" Steve said, looking down. "Oh, fuck you."

"Made you look! You totally did it, and the guy with devil mask? Really?" Robin asked. "Let's go so we can go back to your house so we can properly judge your taste in men."

The ride back to Hawkins was silent except for the radio playing in the background. They quickly settled into the living room.

"You didn't see his face, did you?" Steve asked.

"No, I was too busy drifting off into La La Land," Robin said.

"Robin! It was Eddie Munson!" Steve exclaimed.

"Oh, shit. As in leader of Hellfire, co-parent to your little boy genius?" Robin asked. "This is perfect! You guys already have kids together."

"Robin, we don't even know if he likes men," Steve said.

"Now, you understand my dilemma," she cackled.

"Yes, please revel in my misery," Steve said.

"That's what good friends do, Steve," Robin said. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously?"

"Yep!"

Steve was true to his word and did nothing about his attraction to Eddie Munson until spring break happened. He slowly started to get to know him in the middle of all hell breaking lose and he liked what he learned so far. He had no choice but to interact with him, and he really liked him. . .like really liked him. He had to do something about it now before it was too late.

The RV was parked in an open field, and everyone was outside, enjoying the sunlight before the big fight with Vecna. Steve discreetly watched Eddie slip inside the RV and waited a moment before following. Eddie had taken off his jacket and pulled his hair into a messy bun while he drank a bottle of water. Steve watched for a moment, blushing. Eddie capped the bottle and flashed him a dimpled smile.

"Hey, big boy."

Steve immediately tried to ignore the way that nickname made his stomach flutter.

"Can we talk?" Steve asked.

"Sure thing," Eddie said.

Eddie plopped on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Steve grinned and sat down next to Eddie.

"So, confession time. A few months ago, I came to realization about myself. Actually, Robin helped me with that. I wasn't exactly straight. I mean, I like men and women," Steve said, pausing.

"That's really great, Steve. Thanks for telling me, man," Eddie said, and Steve could have sworn he saw a little hope in his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"A few months ago, Robin took me to a male strip club up in Indianapolis," Steve said.

"Damn, she really is your best friend, isn't she? . . . Wait. . .you saw my act, didn't you?" Eddie groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Look, man, I took the job because I needed to help my uncle out with the bills. He had an accident, and he needed help covering them."

"Eddie," Steve said, laughing as he removed his hands from his face. "I really liked it. . . I mean, I really liked it so much that I ended up. . . "

"What? You ended up doing what?" Eddie asked softly.

"I left right after your performance to go to the bathroom to, uh, take care of myself," Steve said. "I couldn't even approach you for months because you were all I could think about. Now, I'm starting to get to know you, and I want to continue to get to know you because - "

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

Eddie cupped Steve’s cheek and pressed his lips to Steve’s, kissing him softly. Steve responded immediately, placing his hand on Eddie's hip and pressing lips harshly against Eddie's. They moved together, and Eddie let Steve push him back on the couch. Steve squeezed his hips, and Eddie moaned into his mouth, carding his fingers into Steve’s hair. They broke apart quickly when they heard the door open and looked at Robin's guilty, shocked face for a moment before she disappeared. She slammed the door.

"Nothing to see here, kiddos!" Robin exclaimed. "Quick! Go get it!"

"Did you just throw a stick like we were fucking dogs?!" They heard Dustin shriek.

"Why did you go and fetch it, dumbass?" Max asked. "If you aren't a dog?"

Eddie and Steve sat up as they laughed. They leaned heavily against each other. Eddie laughed and kissed Steve’s cheek.

"I like you too, big boy," Eddie said.

[piratefishmama]

No upside down but they still found each other AU where once they get out of Hawkins and move into a little apartment together in the city, Stobin set up a 'date night' routine once a week.

Obviously not a typical date night cause Platonic with a capital P, but they alternate each week who gets to plan the date night activities meaning they both get to do something fun, interesting, exciting, and potentially ridiculous that they themselves wouldn't have thought of.

One such date night, on Robin's turn to plan, is a relatively cheap art exhibition at a local small time independent gallery, focusing on portraits of people the artist has seen around the city, quickly sketched, then painted afterwards.

Her most recent crush had suggested she attend it as her best friend was the artist and was absolutely shitting it over revealing his work to the public that'd inspired those works, certain that everyone would hate them.

They get dressed up, ready to play the part of Fancy Art Connoisseurs, Steve ready to meet and big up Robin to this cute girl Robin had gushed about endlessly as the best wingman ever

Only for them both to wind up stuck one one particular painting titled and described:

E. Munson Angel Incognito Oil on Canvas, The most beautiful man i've ever seen in my life. I was certain i'd seen an angel.

It's Steve.

Sitting in the park, feeding the birds, painted to look... ethereal. Moles dotted with gold, sunlight hitting his soft hair just so, catching the rim of his glasses.

And Robin is immediately on a mission to be the best wingwoman ever because this is NO LONGER about her crush on Chrissy dammit she MUST find this artist, present Steve to him, and "now KISS" smush them both together like barbie dolls.

Good thing Eddie is nearby.

[urhoneycombwitch]

I know what they call you.

You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you. shy!reader

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous. Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

wc: 11k

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after. 

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music. 

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm. 

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways. 

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask. 

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him. 

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return. 

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me. 

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm. 

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot. 

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house. 

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids. 

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of. 

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again. 

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty. 

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair. 

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke. 

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it. 

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code. 

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter. 

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive. 

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily. 

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending.  “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out. 

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them. 

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in. 

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it. 

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom. 

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth. 

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits. 

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring. 

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence. 

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music. 

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around. 

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows. 

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic. 

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms. 

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate. 

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart. 

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down. 

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement. 

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?” 

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard. 

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs. 

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands. 

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel. 

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves. 

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own. 

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks. 

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form. 

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours. 

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. 

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch. 

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights. 

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown. 

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you. 

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him. 

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation. 

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam. 

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders. 

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh. 

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,” 

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips. 

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 2

Propaganda Under Cut

Iris West

Treated terribly by fandom because of racism and misogyny

Iris is one of the oldest Flash characters (well, oldest by measure of the Silver Age Flash) and despite the show's problems she was adapted pretty well. Her being pushed aside 100% has to do with her being Black in the adaptation. The most popular ship on Ao3 for that show is her white husband x a white passing supervillain clearly intended to be read as actually white who has been in LITERALLY ~SIX EPISODES. He DIED IN 2016. THEY ARE STILL DOING THIS

Gets mom friended like you wouldn't BELIEVE. People hate her because she was childhood best friends with The Flash and has chemistry with him :( like it's her fault she's sweet and smart and not the male blue coded villain to the red hero. I am so tired

Stephanie Brown

Literally my best friend ever!!! Every time she shows up in a comic I point at her and smile!!! She’s the vigilante known as spoiler & batgirl & was a robin before getting fridged because of editorial mandate and misogyny she deserves so much better @_@. The m/m that some people hate her for is timkon; like they ARE very gay but people are genuinely insane about hating her instead of also realizing that she too is gay (insane amount of subtext w her bff cass). Basically she was Tim’s girlfriend for a long time on and off. People will literally call her abusive for no reason they’ll be like oh but she didn’t apologize for starting a gang war accidentally and faced no consequences for it :/ as if she wasn’t literally KILLED OFF BRUTALLY. And although hate is rarer for her nowadays from what I’ve seen she’s also a victim of Background Lesbian Syndrome. And also a victim of Woman Not Allowed To Have Ocmplex Feelings in the source material itself (tim is canonically bi now yay but like steph wasn’t allowed to have any complicated feelings at all at her on again off again ex breaking up with her for good???). Anyways she’s the light of my life.

she’s the light of my life my baby girl my everything. she canonically dated tim drake, but people love to ship tim with his male friend kon or his male brothers (🤢🤮) and so they constantly sideline her, making her the quirky wingwoman or sometimes even villainizing her by trying to claim she was abusive to tim. i don’t know why so many people hate her my girl will literally just be standing there and people will hate on her.

Stephanie was first introduced in the 1994 Robin series as a side love interest for Robin, but when she turned out to be really popular she became the main love interest. Because of this, she was fully fleshed out as a vigilante calling herself Spoiler to try and take down her villainous father, the Cluemaster. She later grew a lot closer to other cast members, such as Batgirl and Oracle, to get herself a firmly established place among the bats. Then, she dies in a gang war after taking up the Robin mantle. Eventually, in 2009, she was brought back from the dead and took on the Batgirl mantle. Her and Robin get back together sometime around ~2010 and they are solidly together until 2021. Then, Robin breaks up with her off panel for zero reason in canon, only to date some really boring guy named Bernard. By fanon, she's often demonized and turned into an abuser to make either this ship, or a lot of other mlm ships happen. Either that or things are mysteriously set in the time she's dead despite characters who were not yet introduced until she returned appearing. strange.

[apomaro-mellow]

Part 1 of Nancy helping Steddie happen

Nancy knew it would be an uphill battle. For one thing, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure Steve was attracted to men. But she was optimistic. She hadn’t felt any inclination towards women until a fateful Blondie performance. And since learning about Robin and Eddie’s own preferences, it seemed more likely that Steve might not be totally straight.

It was a probability thing. The hardest part wasn’t getting him to like Eddie, it was getting him to admit it and make a move. But once that block was removed, Nancy was sure his instincts would take over.

“His instincts?”, Eddie had questioned.

“Yes. His dating instincts, flirting instincts, you know. They’ll kick in and it’ll be smooth sailing from there out.”

Eddie looked to the notes he’d taken. The honest to god how to seduce Steve notes. He wasn’t even studying this hard for real school.

“I’m failing to see the actual through-line here. One moment I’m supposed to be buddy-buddy with him over sports, which, do you even know me Wheeler? And the next I’m supposed to make him feel like a big strong man? How do I even do that?”

So Nancy’s plan was less a tactical step by step process and more of a stream of consciousness thing, sue her. “I recognize we’ve got some obstacles. I figured if you got closer to Steve, you could also employ typical flirting techniques.”

“Typical of girls? Or typical of guys? Or typical of guys who like guys?”

“Eddie, it’s all the same.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong. Because I can do the play flirting that dudes do all the time. But there’s a line. And if I cross that line, Steve will sock me in the jaw.”

“Then let’s cross that line.”

“Excuse me?”

“Cross the line with Steve. Just once. And see how he reacts.”

Eddie looked at her like she grew two heads. “Did you miss the part about my jaw being socked?”

“He won’t do that. Not if Robin is there. And if I just happen to be around-”

“Don’t you go crossing any lines yet.”

Nancy let out a groan and leaned with her hand against the wall. She didn’t always count herself as a patient girl. But if Eddie didn’t get it together she was never gonna date Robin.

-------------------

They had agreed on toeing the line. Something that probably wouldn’t end up with Steve hitting him. Nancy tried to encourage Eddie, saying he’d never lay a hand on a friend, but Eddie was a little protective when it came to his face.

So they were at the local basketball court, where Steve was helping Lucas practice. Max and El were on the court as well, playing their own little game on the other end of the court. Robin, Eddie, and Nancy were there as support. But the plan involved having Eddie on the actual court.

So after watching from the stands for a beat, he stepped onto the court to help Lucas with his moves.

“If you can get by a scrub like me, you’re gonna warm the bench your whole life”, Eddie taunted. He still didn’t get that excited over sports. But Lucas was one of his little lambs. And if this was what he was into, he could be supportive. Especially if it meant seeing Steve in a tank top. Eddie himself didn’t like getting sweaty but a tiny part of his blackened heart warmed when Lucas was able to get past both him and Steve and score a point.

Steve praised Lucas with a high five while Eddie caught the basketball as it dropped through the net. Here it was. The moment of truth. 

“Don’t just hype up the student. You gotta give props to the coach too.” Eddie felt his hand get warm before he did it. “Good hustle out there Steve”, he said before smacking Steve right on the ass.

Before he could see the reaction, he tossed the ball back to Lucas and went over to the bleachers, pretty much collapsing right next to Nancy just as Robin was getting up and heading over to Steve.

“Did you see his face?”, he murmured.

“Hm?”

“Did you-you weren’t even looking were you?”

“I was....n’t. I wasn’t”, Nancy didn’t even bother to lie. It was hard to when her eyes hadn’t left Robin, even now.

“You’re unbelievable. Worst wingwoman ever.”

“How did it feel?”, Nancy asked.

Eddie flexed his fingers, never happier than he was now for the physicality of sports. “Glorious.”

“Mhm. You’re welcome.”

Even as she congratulated him, Eddie could see in her eyes that her thoughts weren’t on Steve at all. They both had it bad.

@gay-stranger-things

[noirangels77]

Here’s my Elmax Headcanon

•Robin is Max’s Wingman /Wingwoman.

She’ll give Max a dating advice.

•Jonathan is El’s wingman, He’ll give important dating advice.

•Hopper would secretly give Max some of his saving so that El and her can hangout. (He is very supportive of them)

•Max would take El to the arcade and teach her how to play them (El was confused but she ends up loving them)

•Max would give El her Walkman and introduced her to different kind of music (El love listening to the Smith)

•El discovers a love for 80s punk music through Max's extensive collection, and they often spend evenings jamming out to rebellious tunes in Eleven's room

•Max surprises Eleven with a homemade mixtape of her favorite love songs, each track carefully chosen to express the depth of her feelings.

•of course they both listen to music together

•They both would share mixtape to each other

•Max would bring El to the skatepark, El would also take picture of her skating with her Polaroid. 

•Max Introduce El her Childhood friends, Nate and her friends back in California.

•El love taking pictures since Jonathan teaches her.

•Max has been restoring Billy’s camaro for a year and decided to bring El to a road trip to California.

•Even El has a bad time in California, Max is here to clear those up and decided to give her a good time by bringing her to places like an Amusement Park.

•El enjoying the view at Santa Monica Piears, Max can’t help but fall in love.

•When El wins a carnival game, she would give the plushies to Max and give her a kiss.

•Max teaches Eleven how to cook their favorite dishes, creating a cozy routine of shared meals and stolen kisses in the kitchen.

•They both share cotton candy, popcorn and ice cream.

•El is the one to propose Max with her Ring Pop (Max Says Yes!!!)

•when El is having a nightmare, Max will cuddle with her and calm her down.

•Max Teaches El how to drive her Camaro.

•Max would play a guitar on stage and sing a song for El’s birthday

•Max and El would play Mario Kart on their couch (El loses /Doesn’t talk not forgive Max for beating her unless Max has to make her an eggo so she could forgive her)

•El is the one giving Max a head and shoulder massage when Max is feeling overwhelmed and stressed

•they both have a pet: Kira The Cat & Margo the Dog.

•Miss Mayfield/ Susan Mayfield would share a Childhood photo of Max to El when she was still a baby and a child, Max is completely embarrassed but El love seeing these childhood’s pic because Max is so damn cute.

•They carve their initials into a hidden tree in the forest, marking a secret place where their love story began and will continue to grow.

Sorry for the long list of head can on, I just ship these two more than the ships on the show.

[the-real-bruce-banner]

S5 Steve: *Watches Robin make Nancy laugh more then he ever did in his entire life and he’s the one that invited Robin to be his wingwoman*

Steve: 😑

Robin: I’ve gotten pretty good at this right?

[bookinit02]

HAVEN OH MY GOSH THE NEW EPISODE!!!!!! I SCREAMED. I made a bunch of very insane notes and I thought I'd gift them to you. as a treat:

fucking COLD

BABY WILL AND MIKE GOT ME SOBBINGGG

So curious as to what's going on with Will and Vecna, also Will tell your boyfriend!!! Come on!!! crazy together!!! (also MIKE tell your boyfriend actually. y'all need to talk about the messed up Vecna stuff!!! that's the whole idea!!!)

OH FUCK OH NO MAX AND LUCAS. OH NO. OH NO I AM SO SAD. OH NO. I AM CRYING. WHYYYYY

NANCY ROBIN ERICA TEAM UP!!! Erica gets friends and mentors as she SHOULD and I love her

WINGWOMAN NANCY!! Hasn't even been come out to yet and is already the wingwoman of all time. We love to see it. I love her.

RONANCE CRUMBS???????

THAT JANCY BREAKUP WAS THE MOST HEARTBREAKING THING I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME. I AM CRYING. SOBBING. BUT IT WAS SO GOOD

What does Karen Wheeler KNOW

Mike and Holly are the cutest little sibling babies and I love them so much. They are my favourite and Holly is adorable and deserves the world.

NANCY AND MIKE ARE ALSO THE CUTEST SIBLINGS. QUALITY WHEELER FAMILY CONTENT RIGHT HERE. I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH.

OHHH MIKE JUST CAME OUT. OH HONEY. NANCY YOU ARE THE BEST BIG SISTER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

THE JONATHAN AND WILL MIKE AND NANCY PARALLELS IM-

THE MIKE AND NANCY SCENE AS A WHOLE. THAT IS LITERALLY MY FAVOURITE SCENE SO FAR. THAT WAS SO GOOD. READING THAT IN THE FIC IS GOING TO BREAK MY HEART EVEN MORE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Oh Mike. I love you so much. you and will need to TELL EACH OTHER THINGS. PLEASE.

All in all amazing episode, I loved it and it was sad and happy and funny and destroyed me like six times but it's WORTH IT!!!! I'm excited for the chapters of the fic!!!

ok i hope it’s ok that i waited a few days to answer this—i didn’t want to spoil it for anyone!!

first of all YES i was so fucking proud of myself for that line😭 such a banger . i literally left it there for like 2 days without writing anything else bc i was like how tf do i follow that😭😭

MIWIIII💗💗💗😭 BABY MIWIIIIII💗🫶🏻😭

yes!! i am also super excited to develop the will & vecna storyline. and listen they’ve been miscommunicating for like 2 seasons now, ofc they’re gonna keep going (for a little bit at least😉)

yeah honestly i cried writing that scene☹️ they make me so . So.

yes!!! i need some sort of girl power moment in s5 so badly (but Not in that cringy forced way that shows do sometimes if u know what i mean😭)

nancy is The wingwoman of all time actually. she treats it as a matter of life and death. it is a one-woman competition and she is NOT losing.

ronance crumbs… perhaps… hehe :)

yeah listen it broke My heart too and i was SO split on whether to do it or not . but i think it’s the most realistic option and they definitely have things they need to work out!! i’m honestly very very interested to see what the writers do with the love triangle storyline bc this has definitely been the most challenging plot to write so far. but i am enjoying the challenge :)

as for what karen knows… we’ll have to find out👀

I AGREE😭😭💗 HOLLY IS SO UNDERRATED WE NEED MORE OF HER SO BADLY!!!

nancy and mike as well. just more wheeler family dynamics all across the board bc i am Obsessed with them!!

yeah that scene was very emotional to write😭😭 he’s come so far and i’m so proud of him!! (is the one actively writing his character arc)

love me a good parallel🫡🫡

THANK YOU THAT’S ONE OF MY FAVORITE SCENES AS WELL💗💗💗 and yes i’m so excited to write the fic version!!

i’m so glad you liked this episode, thank you SO much for this comment! i don’t get as many comments on my scripts (understandably) as i do on my fic, but i really appreciate when people give me feedback :) i’m so happy that you’re enjoying them!

[ardentwench]

Need more Nancy playing matchmaker for Steve and Eddie.

Preferably if she doesn’t even know for sure they’re not straight when she starts, but she has suspicions and she believes what Steve is actually looking for in her and all those random dates can be found in Eddie, that they’d be a good match for Steve. She’s observant and picks up on some subtle (and some not so subtle) cues that there’s attraction both ways, she’s just not sure how self aware they are of it.

Picked up on it since they were in the upside down together, clocking that something was there even if she hadn’t had any time to dwell on what exactly she was noticing until much later after the dust had well settled. The boys have obviously bonded after everything and care about each other and she doesn’t think it’s an implausible thought that there’s potential for that connection to run deeper.

Maybe she wants to clear the air between her and Steve and put to rest any romanticized notions of something between them ever happening again by helping him sort out his own love life but even with that motive she would also truly want to see him be happy instead of seeming so lost.

There’s so many possibilities for Matchmaker Nancy.

Maybe Will or Robin coming out to her makes her think about it enough to play matchmaker, perhaps influenced by Murray and his nosiness.

Matchmaker Nancy could still be with Jonathan, working on or having worked out their stuff or make it a dual Steddie and Ronance story instead.

Maybe she accidentally discovers something about herself along the way, or maybe her own bisexual self discovery inspires her to help Steve reach his own queer epiphany. Maybe she doesn’t have her own shit together no matter who her love interest is and oversteps, makes a mess of things for Steve, get’s called out for meddling and thinking she knows what’s best when she can’t even confront and handle her own love life. Maybe focusing on Steve’s was her way to avoid sorting her own relationship(s) out. Maybe she even goes to Murray for advice (before, during, or after she’s in deep of the situation) and ends up having her own shit analyzed as well.

Maybe Robin misunderstands Nancy’s intentions and gets protective of Steve, either assuming Nancy is trying to out one or both of the guys or wants to get back with Steve.

Or even just something fluffy without any angst gravy where Nancy is just a bamf wingwoman stealthily working her magic.

Just more matchmaker/wingwoman Nancy in general please.

[bunny-lou]

I posted 565 times in 2022

195 posts created (35%)

370 posts reblogged (65%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sparrowmoth

@bunny-lou

@telli1206

@bamboocarbon-ver-2-0

@sistersmcclain

I tagged 188 of my posts in 2022

#asks - 86 posts

#the black phone - 77 posts

#finney blake - 62 posts

#anonymous - 56 posts

#the grabber - 55 posts

#incorrect descendants quotes - 48 posts

#robin arellano - 44 posts

#carlos de vil - 41 posts

#jaylos - 33 posts

#jay descendants - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 32 characters

#incorrect the black phone quotes

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Robin and Finney are dating, which is cool. Robin is Finney’s romantic boyfriend, so he gets to hold Finney’s hand and listen to him talk about space and go on dates and stuff. This means Robin is Gwen’s platonic boyfriend, so he has gets to hold Gwen’s bag and listen to her talk about her friends and have her be the third wheel on dates and stuff.

Or, a bunch of head canons with Gwen both ruining and supporting Robin/Finney

Finney patching Robin up after a fight and Robin making comments about how he has the cutest nurse, but Finney is still mad at him for fighting.

Robin arguing that Finney can’t be mad at him, Robin got in the fight for defending Gwen against some kids who said she was weird

Finney pointing out that if Robin was defending Gwen, she is going to be more pissed than he is. Gwen likes to fight her own battles, she doesn’t let other people be her voice.

Robin realizing, oh shit, he’s right, and asking Finney to lie and say Robin got in the fight defending Finney because yeah Gwen is younger and shorter and smaller, but Robin is not prepared to be on her bad side

Robin’s uncle lets him take his truck to the drive ins on weekends, which is dark and secluded and if they see a scary movie, Finney will practically be in his lap the whole time

he arrives at the Blake house to pick up his boyfriend and is shocked and confused for Gwen to climb in the truck beside Finney

Finney is just like ‘Gwen wants to see this movie too, so I invited her’

Robin is a good boyfriend and he does actually like Gwen, so of course he has no problem with it, even if his plans are ruined.

Part way through the movie, Robin slips her some money and tells her to go get some snacks

And Gwen is smart and says ‘why? so you can be alone with my brother and make out?’

And Robin, completely serious, saying ‘yes, so make sure you take your time because you don’t want to see this’

Finney is just a flustered mess

Yeah, Robin is Finney’s boyfriend, but the match to his BFF bracelet belongs to Gwen

Gwen starts dating a boy and swooning over him, so Finney gives his best big brother talk of ‘if you hurt her, I will be very disappointed in you and I will make you feel bad’

And Robin’s like ‘good job, babe, you really scared that dude’

But when Finney’s back is turned, Robin is grabbing the guys shirt and promising to break his teeth if he ever hurts Gwen.

Way more invested in Gwen’s stories about the girls in her class and her bitch teacher and how dumb boys are than Finney is. Finney listens because he loves his sister and wants her to have a safe place to talk, but Robin listens because he loves girl talk and there’s no way Susie actually made out with Bobby while she was dating Jack, omg, what happened after that???

Gwen making up total lies to get out of the house when Robin comes over because she’s a good wingwoman and lets them have alone time

Braid twins as Finney makes dinner for all of them.

Teaching Gwen one on one how to do a round house kick so she can use her fists and rocks and feet

(does the same thing with Finn, but it takes way longer because Robin keeps flirting with him)

Also teaches Gwen how to swear in Spanish after she gets detention for the 12000th time for calling her teacher a fuckwad

Gwen helps Robin plan out dates. She points out the restaurants Finney wants to try and the new rocket launcher he’s been eyeing and the new rom com he hasn’t seen yet and if they go to the park at night, Finney will be able to point out the constellations as they hold hands under the stars

Robin is Gwen’s platonic boyfriend, the end.

Might turn this into a fluffy fic after I’m done with my angsty fic

515 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

#4

Just saw Barbarian (2022) and while it was amazing, I would also watch and enjoy a film of Tess and Keith just spending a weekend slowly falling in love during this renting mixup because they were so cute and had such good chemistry.

703 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

#3

Finney: "I made this friendship bracelet for you."

Robin: "I don't really wear jewelry."

Finney: "Oh, okay... You don't have to wear it."

Robin: "No, I'm gonna wear it forever. Back off."

789 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

#2

Robin: “When I was younger, I had a crush on a boy in my class and I didn’t know how to deal with it so I wrote him a letter that just said ‘get out of my school’.”

Finney: “That was you?!”

808 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Bruce: “What’s the happiest place on earth?”

Finney: “The science lab.”

Robin: “The gym.”

Bruce: “Apparently neither of you have ever been in Vance’s arms.”

Finney: “Of course we’ve never been in Vance’s arms, he’s terrifying!”

Robin: “I brushed against him accidentally once and he pulled out a switchblade.”

843 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

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[livingintheupsidedown]

oh my god Robin out here really being the best wingwoman i love her

also ruby!!!! wtf this was literally so good

no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado…enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Keep reading

[fuck-mygayisshowing]

Late night headcanon because why not

Steve can't stand to have the curtains on his window open at night. Partially because it faces the pool, but also because it always feels like he's being watched. Sometimes when he looks outside at night, he swears he sees something move just so and he's gripping his nail bat.

Tommy comes by to spend the night and is shocked by Steve sleeping with the lights on and the curtains closed. When they were younger Steve told him that he liked to be able to see the moon, because the moon keeps them safe and it was better than a nightlight. Now, the moon was hidden and the room was lit like daylight. He asked about it, after accidentally discovering the nail bat, and Steve collapsed.

Steve sobbed and rambled in broken sentences about monsters he can't unsee and how terrified he felt every night since November of '83. Tommy held Steve, like he had when they were kids. They had always been there for each other before Nancy came along. It was a bittersweet moment when they both thought about it.

After that, Tommy swung by the house more, bringing movies to marathon and offering to keep watch over Steve as he slept. Sometimes he'd bring Billy along, figuring out what happened in the Hargrove house. And after an awkward couple days of Steve and Billy sorta ignoring each other and a very clunky apology, they grew closer. They'd spend week days not looking after the kids either at Steve's house or the quarry (They tried Tommy's house once, but got yelled at when they didn't air out the room enough before smoking). The insults between Steve and Billy stayed, but there wasn't as much heat behind the words as before. They still acted like they hated each other in the public eye, since Steve always seemed to have one of his brats hanging off him during the day. The nights were theirs though. When they weren't a victim, a lap dog, or the privileged babysitter with a wicked bat.

Months later, Tommy would be visiting Scoops when he overhears something about a secret Russian communication, and Billy briefly seeing...something after his car crashes and he calls Susan to collect him. They would almost die that summer, and once confirmed that they all survived, although worse for wear, they would finally start fully trusting each other with everything and act like friends in public.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Stephanie Brown

Literally my best friend ever!!! Every time she shows up in a comic I point at her and smile!!! She’s the vigilante known as spoiler & batgirl & was a robin before getting fridged because of editorial mandate and misogyny she deserves so much better @_@. The m/m that some people hate her for is timkon; like they ARE very gay but people are genuinely insane about hating her instead of also realizing that she too is gay (insane amount of subtext w her bff cass). Basically she was Tim’s girlfriend for a long time on and off. People will literally call her abusive for no reason they’ll be like oh but she didn’t apologize for starting a gang war accidentally and faced no consequences for it :/ as if she wasn’t literally KILLED OFF BRUTALLY. And although hate is rarer for her nowadays from what I’ve seen she’s also a victim of Background Lesbian Syndrome. And also a victim of Woman Not Allowed To Have Ocmplex Feelings in the source material itself (tim is canonically bi now yay but like steph wasn’t allowed to have any complicated feelings at all at her on again off again ex breaking up with her for good???). Anyways she’s the light of my life.

she’s the light of my life my baby girl my everything. she canonically dated tim drake, but people love to ship tim with his male friend kon or his male brothers (🤢🤮) and so they constantly sideline her, making her the quirky wingwoman or sometimes even villainizing her by trying to claim she was abusive to tim. i don’t know why so many people hate her my girl will literally just be standing there and people will hate on her.

Stephanie was first introduced in the 1994 Robin series as a side love interest for Robin, but when she turned out to be really popular she became the main love interest. Because of this, she was fully fleshed out as a vigilante calling herself Spoiler to try and take down her villainous father, the Cluemaster. She later grew a lot closer to other cast members, such as Batgirl and Oracle, to get herself a firmly established place among the bats. Then, she dies in a gang war after taking up the Robin mantle. Eventually, in 2009, she was brought back from the dead and took on the Batgirl mantle. Her and Robin get back together sometime around ~2010 and they are solidly together until 2021. Then, Robin breaks up with her off panel for zero reason in canon, only to date some really boring guy named Bernard. By fanon, she's often demonized and turned into an abuser to make either this ship, or a lot of other mlm ships happen. Either that or things are mysteriously set in the time she's dead despite characters who were not yet introduced until she returned appearing. strange.

Selina Kyle/Catwoman

She's a badass and a complex character. She's awesome regardless of her relationship with Batman. Still, she's often called a b*tch by the fandom and villainized for the sake of their m/m ship.

You should see the way she’s completely ignored in favor of people shipping Batman with the Riddler. You’d think she’s not in this movie at all from the fic / art some people make.

Literally has suffered more than Jesus, reduced to a sex object by so many writers and then completely discarded by fanon for the sake of Bruce’s so called boyfriends again and again even though she’s so much more than those most reductive portrayals. Robs the rich to give to herself. Definitely had a threesome with Harley and Ivy at least once. Too good to be bad, too bad to be good. 

[the-bassist]

Robin was being an s tier wingwoman right there, the way I see it, she was pretending it wasn’t impressive to give Nancy a chance to speak up and reassure//flirt with Steve

Reminder Nancy was impressed by Steve sticking the landing. Nance then looks to Robin like.. “What..? That was cool.”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Black cat au stuff 4

1. Black cat introduces himself by saying, "I'm Black Cat, but you'll soon know me as the one that got away!"

2. Joker did something to anger Danny so he decided to humiliate the clown. How you may ask? Pies. Lots and lots of pies. Hes invisible when he does it so no one actually knows its him doing it but the Joker hasn't been able to get through one monolog or do even a single dramatic entrance since all this began.

Jason is loving it.

3. Danny started visiting Arkam as Black Cat and casually chatting and befriending the people he liked. I say "visiting" but no one is really sure how he keeps getting in or out, and he doesn't obey the visiting hours policy, but he brings snacks and keeps the patients calm. It's almost like he has a comforting aura about him. Strange.

4. Danny knows Red Robin is amazing with computers but so is he. He essentially used a combo of ghost magic and coding to make a sort of digital boobie trap against anyone who tried to get into his devices/obtain his information.

Danny isn't sure how Red Robin and Oracle had done it, but they managed to set off the trap not only on thier own devices but onto every device in Gotham which was hilarious because it left Danny laugh-crying on the floor of his flower shop as the entire city of Gotham got Rick Rolled. They even got the radio towers! How???!

The scene repeated a few days later and Dannys actually impressed that they made it worse somehow as the new song he selected (The english/Metal cover of Caramelldansen) blasted now in Gotham, the Titans Tower, the Watchtower, and Mt. Justice for three whole hours before they managed to turn it off.

5. Danny loves giving the Batfam gummy worms to snack on. He even found a nice vegan brand for Damian since he's vegetarian.

6. Danny buys these dumb realistic fangs and shows them off to Nightwing and Robin saying, "Careful, I bite!"

Nightwing laughs while Robin turns an interesting shade of red. Unfortunately for him, Alley Cat noticed and upon seeing the smirk on her face he knew that she knew.

Alley proceeds to flop between taking delight in placing Robin and Black Cat in awkward crush situations and being a wingwoman.

Catwoman watches all of it through Alley and Black's cameras like a prime soap opera.

7. Might be related to 6 but Damian/Robin keeps finding new and perfectly excusable ways to hold Danny/Black Cat. Like, start up bridal style. At some point Danny got so used to Robin and Damian picking him up and will just chill in thier arms until it becomes awkward or bird boy is forced to put him down.

8. The cats are always careful to avoid anyone with a sensitivity to the supernatural after this one psychic lady started screaming in terror when she saw/sensed him.

Imagine his and Zatannas mutual horror upon meeting! Danny just blurts out he's cursed as a cover up for being a super powerful undead eldrich creature

Robin: What?!

The batfam: What?!

Zatanna: *internally screaming cause what could possibly leave a curse like that*

Danny: ...oh ancients, what have I done.

9. Dani falls in love with this show called Moster High cause the characters are "like her" and Danny is just happy she has role models until she forces him to watch it and now they sing the intro song together often. Danny is a good big brother.

10. Cass just starts randomly referring to Kitty as her brother-in-law and everyone in the Justice Leage is confused- especially when they're told its the baby of the family whos engaged.

Kitty is brought to The Watchtower for whatever reason you can come up with and Cass explains they have a prank going on where they convinced the Justice Leage that he and Robin were engaged and asked him to play along.

Kitty, being a little chaos gremlin, agreed and playfully flirted with Damian all day. It was the goodbye kiss at the end that made Robin decide he owed Cass big time.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Promptober: Day Twenty

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 659 words.

The only reason you were standing in the bleachers of Butler University on a cold, October night, was because Robin met a girl who sold tickets to the college games. 

“But you don’t like football,” you’d told her. 

“But I do like pretty girls,” she had replied. And then, for good measure, “please? I’ll ask Steve too.”

It’s not like Steve coming along sealed the deal, you would’ve done anything for Robin, being the number one wingwoman was part of your job description as her friend. But the night was dark and the temperature had dropped to forty before the three of you had even found some free seats and suddenly, standing next to Steve was the best part of your night. 

“You’re so warm,” you marvelled, leaning into the boy. “S’like my own personal space heater.”

Robin rolled her eyes but Steve grinned, cheeks pink and letting you needle your arm through his own, your face pressed to his bicep as the rest of the crowd cheered and booed. 

You could practically hear Robin’s voice in your head, deadpan and tired of you and the boy’s antics. “Jesus Christ, just date already, you’re both disgusting. It’s pathetic.”

Instead, you got something that was a little less harsh, but the girl's words carried the same intention. She nudged your other shoulder, made a grabbing motion and Steve until he passed her the bucket of popcorn you were all sharing. 

“I didn’t invite you both here to flirt, you know,” Robin huffed. “In fact, you’re supposed to be helping me get a date.”

But Steve wasn’t listening, his eyes on you instead of the game, smile soft as you pushed your cheek into his coat. The floodlights made the world seem brighter than it was, the crowd a blur of blue and white as you pressed yourself further into the boy. 

“S’fine, Rob,” you told her, grinning too wide when Steve took your hand in his own, tucking them into his coat pocket together. “She told you she’d meet you at half time, right? Relax and watch the game.”

“You’re not even watching the game.” 

“Sure we are,” Steve replied but his eyes were still on you. “It’s all really interesting,” he lied. 

Truth be told, it was hard to concentrate on anything but Steve. You were always easily distracted by the boy, a friend who was almost something more, the inbetween stages of flirting and shyly getting closer making your stomach tumble and your beat a little faster than it should. 

You liked the way he held your hand, held you closer when you shivered, ducked his head down to yours to whisper in your ear to be heard over the crowd, even though he could’ve chosen to yell over the din like Robin. 

But then the half time whistle blew and Robin jumped up with a squeak and headed for the food stand, right underneath the flashing lights where he new friend told her to wait. 

And that left you alone with a boy who was really quite happy about it. 

“Still cold?” Steve asked, leaning down to whisper into your ear. His lips brushed the shell of it, made you shiver and nod.

“Freezing,” you said and tried not to smile because the boy was looking at you like he knew you were lying. How could you be cold? You had two sweaters and a jacket on. 

But Steve tilted his chin at you, grinned and opened his arms. “C’mere.”

You let him manhandle you to stand in front of him, your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around your middle. All the layers between you both were something you were suddenly against, but he felt warm and solid against you, his chin pressed to the crown of your head as he hummed. 

“Better?” Steve asked and you could hear the smile there, warmer than his touch, like the sun on an autumn day.