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superblysubpar · 9 months ago

Text

Princesses Can Slay Dragons Too:

dad!eddie munson x mom!fem!reader

an Easy Like Sunday Morning story

summary: you're overworked and stressed, Eddie's an oblivious but well meaning husband & dad, and a trip to the cabin with familiar faces might be just what you all needed. | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

7.7k words (listen, I know it has no business being this long. I worked on it for a year. Idk what happened, okay?)

warnings: please read the new "general warnings" on the masterlist linked above - "reader" has a "name/nickname", mentions of Ronance, mentions of alcohol, mom stress and a little bit of description of some blood/injury and parental panic/ descriptions of shock about it. There is a twinge of "poetic", quick descriptions of smut as well as brief discussion of "unplanned" pregnancies.

This started from an ask last March, which I've since lost (so sorry anon if you're still out there), and it grew and sat and grew some more and then sat some more and now here it is. I've grown very, extremely, emotionally proud and fond of it. Hope ya like it! 💛

Summer, 2004

“Baby, volume,” your voice calls out over the faint music playing, the thrum of wheels against the highway and the wind. Eyes remain shut, but furrowed lines form above your brows when you hear the familiar ding of a coin being grabbed. A palm rests on your thigh, fingers squeeze gently around it as the music of the level starts its loop again.

You need a coffee. Or thirty. Yes, thirty is good.

“Squirt,” his tone full of warning, yet somehow still sounding sweeter than the syrup that clings to all of their fingers and the gray fabric of the old van’s seats.

Despite the early morning breakfast stop at McDonald’s being nearly twenty-four hours ago, and your insistence on packed sandwiches and veggies for lunch, and a stop for a sit down dinner - the stale scent of greasy food feels heavy in the air. Which has your brain cycling through the list that will rid your family of the trip when you reach your final destination - get out of the car, wrangle them into pajamas, teeth brushed, fight about sleeping when it’s already almost morning, clothes into washing machine, air out the car, make the grocery list for the week…

Screw coffee - you need a shower, you need a shot of alcohol, you already need a vacation from your vacation.

A particularly loud grunt and the sound of something hitting or fighting or shooting has you opening your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them to find the dark highway lit by two gold headlights, showing off the yellow lines flashing past the driver’s window. Your mouth parts, ready to be the one to tell them no, like you always are, when he stops you.

He grabs your hand, his thumb soothing over your knuckles as his voice drifts gently into the backseat, “Come on, I don’t wanna take it away…”

It’s endearing, the way he always tries, the way he gives them a couple of chances. Because at this point, you’re ready to take the damn game and chuck it out the window. This level is haunting you, all you’ve heard every second of every day, even when you’re peeing or trying to shower. You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming in the pixelated graphics, the sound effects now accompanying your daily tasks.

A loud sigh falls from the backseat and with it, you’re certain the console is nudged one level lower.

You hate that of all of your children, the one most like him is still awake.

Sure, they’re all little gremlins, heathens, as he likes to call them - little tenacious mini monster versions of him that drive you up the wall but somehow make your chest ache with too much love.

But this one, this one takes the cake every time.

Eddie beats you to it again, the silver of his rings glinting in the green light of the dashboard as he lets go of your hand to reach into the back without looking. Out of the corner of your eye you see his bicep flexing, gently shaking the tiny knee in his big hand as he talks to the road sternly, “Lace. Volume off completely until I say otherwise, or Mario and Luigi are my best friends the rest of the week, capisce?”

“Caposh,” she grumbles, big red chucks swinging up towards the console and back down, her little legs don’t quite touch the ground yet, much to her dismay.

You keep reminding her that she has lots of time to be as big as her siblings, that her ever growing shoe size and the jeans you bought for the upcoming school year (which she’s already complaining are too tight - remember, you need to ask Katie about hand me downs from Liv, or shit, maybe even Grace, this weekend) tell you she is going to keep growing - and fast. Part of you can’t wait, and the other part wishes she’d slow down.

The sound vanishes completely and Eddie’s hand finds its way to your thigh again when you sigh. The part that wishes she’d grow up faster stirs, lit by the flicker of resentment when she listens to him so easily and not you.

Eddie’s fingers run up your thigh, then back down, skin beneath the denim buzzing as he squeezes softly and clears his throat.

“I think someone deserves an apology though, don’t you? ‘Cause I believe I heard you were asked already…”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks and you can’t help but look over your shoulder at her when she does.

For once, her eyes are on you and not the game, big and brown - just like his - and truly sorry. You smile softly as her brows furrow under bangs that just refuse to stay straight. She blows them away with a big huff as she whines, “It’s just so hard.”

Your head nods, temple resting on the seat as you murmur, “Yeah, I know. Thank you for turning the volume off when your dad asked though, I really appreciate it.”

Eddie swallows, his finger aimlessly circles over the skin above your knee as he blinks at the road.

He’s always amazed when you do that.

Far more patient than anyone deserves, far more understanding than any of them appreciate, and much too good to him. For him. Especially with how things have been lately.

Eddie knew it’d been a little rough, with him being gone so much and the kids’ schedules just growing more cramped as they got older - summer was no longer the lazy days of kids riding around on their bikes and doing squat. It was full of sports and clubs, friends, all requiring a constant need to be dropped off, picked up, carted too and fro on seemingly hellbent on never lining up schedules. He’d been trying, he really had, to help you balance it all, but he had tunnel vision for things at work, he was so focused on his own shit he didn’t realize how much everything was affecting you.

How much being alone with three kids, two goldfish (scratch that, one, but still), a dog, and a house that seemed to have endless tasks to keep it running was breaking you.

He finds your hand and pulls interlaced fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, all while keeping his eyes on the road. You close yours again, trying to focus on the soft press of his lips to your skin and not the reason why he’s doing it.

You know he’s thinking about last weekend.

On Friday, Caroline had complained that you only sewed new straps on her ballet slippers instead of getting new ones altogether. She was practically in tears because all the other girls in class had new leotards, new skirts, and new shoes and you promised you’d figure something out. She retreated with red cheeks and a slam of the bedroom door, stereo blaring behind it, the cusp of terrible teenage years promising to be worse than the twos.

After that, Michael shoved you off when you tried to hug him as you dropped him at the school for a baseball practice with an exasperated, “God, mom, stop!” - nine was grown up and he was much too cool to be a momma’s boy anymore apparently.

And to top it all off, Lacey had been following you around the house, that stupid game dinging and singing everywhere you went, one of the fish died and Lacey asked when it was coming back, and you somehow burnt the hamburger helper for dinner.

When Eddie got home, he found you hunched over the coffee table next to a precariously placed glass of red wine, a sock in one hand and a shirt in the other, piles of laundry neatly folded around you and your favorite movie playing on the TV. If it weren’t for the position that was sure to have your back feeling rough tomorrow, your soft, even breathing revealed you were dead asleep.

He had tried to ease you up, move you to the bedroom while trying not to wake you like he used to when his body was much younger, but you had shot up at the touch of his hand, the lightest sleeper of a mother of three. You blinked heavy eyelids while mumbling through sleep thick words about lunches for the two eldest who would be gone all the next day. Eddie had assured you he’d make them, and you were fairly certain you were back to sleep before your head touched the pillow.

The next day though, something inside of you snapped.

It had been better than the one before, but not great. You hadn’t showered, there was a leak in the kitchen that hadn’t gotten any better all week. The only break you had all day was picking the kids up from their activities, and making them a snack as soon as they dropped gear in haphazard piles in the entryway.

After hours on hold, you just started clanging around with tools you didn’t know how to use, your head throbbing from the lack of coffee or water and the sound of Mario grabbing another coin somewhere to your right.

Where was the real plumber you had asked Eddie to call? Maybe, if you concentrated hard enough, Mario would leap out of Lacey’s console, climb down the drain, and fight off the little mushroom guy who was-

You smacked the wrench against the pipe, repeatedly, like it had personally threatened you.

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart, stop! You’re gonna break it!”

Eddie grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to see him standing with pizza boxes and staring at you with wide, blinking eyes. For a second, the sight of short curls starting to gray on the ends and lines next to eyes that were constantly squinting because he was smiling or refusing to wear sunglasses, had you forgetting you were mad, or stressed or…maybe you were just tired?

He cocked his head, trying to catch the gaze you let fall to the floor quickly as the kids shrieked about him being home. Eddie didn’t even get his question of if you were okay out before arms were wrapped around his waist and legs, all vying for his attention.

You had swiped at your nose to ward off the familiar sting, pulled down plates and started filling glasses of milk and juice, before shoving the casserole you’d had prepped into the freezer.

Then he snapped his fingers, smoothing a hand over Caroline’s hair and said, “Oh, hold on. I think you’re gonna like what else I brought home a lot more than the pizza.”

He left for the hallway, returning quickly, holding something behind his back that she tried to peek at and he tsked, singing, “Uh-uh-uh. Hold on. Your mom told me you were upset about your ballet slippers…”

Your shoulders rose, the pour of apple juice freezing over the glass.

He didn’t.

He smiled at you, oblivious, then at Caroline’s squeal of excitement and he kept going, “These aren’t new, but my co-worker’s daughter barely used them and…Ta-da!”

Eddie held out a shoebox with essentially brand new shoes and your body felt numb as you listened to her scream how much she loved them and him, squeezing him in a fierce hug as he kissed her temple.

Caroline held them up to you, proudly, and you smiled, nodding, saying something, you don’t even remember what. You ushered everyone to the table.

Lacey stood next to her chair, eyes darting over the hand-held game clutched in her fingers.

“Lacey, put it away, time for dinner.”

Ding! Bloop, bloop, bloop blah-bloop-de-bloop.

Eddie slapped pizza onto plates, licking stray sauce from his thumb, “How was everyone’s day? What’d you do?”

“Lacey, I’m not telling you again. Put the game away.”

Her eyes flew up to yours, something fiery and far to recognizable behind them that made you blink as she just said, “No.”

“Oh!” Eddie passed you pizza, oblivious, “How was lunch? Did dad do as good as mom?” He ruffled Michael’s hair as your daughter and you glared at each other.

Caroline nodded her head enthusiastically around a too big bite and Michael turned to you, pizza in his mouth on display as he talked, “It was so good. Can dad make our lunches every day? His was way better.”

You stood up from the table, without warning and without a word, walked to your bedroom, and slammed the door.

Were you having an adult tantrum? Maybe. Were you proud of it? Absolutely not. But the rush of tears that fell down your cheeks and the sob that overtook you was the kind of angry crying you simply do in private and you had needed to get there quick.

Footsteps jogged down the hallway behind you, the sound causing you to turn the lock on your bedroom door through blurry vision and gasps around your tears. As the knob tried to turn, you moved away with a hand over your mouth until the back of your knees hit the bed.

“Babe, open the door.” Eddie’s voice was soft as the knob rattled again.

“Liv, what the hell, open the door.”

You choked on a sob, fingers still over your lips so you barely got out, “I’m fine, Eddie, just…have dinner without me. I’ll eat later.”

The handle spun back and forth again, the sound of his forehead hitting the wood and his pained tone slicing through you, “Olivia, please open the door.”

You curled yourself on top of the bed, watching the handle through blurry vision slowly stop moving. Closing your eyes as the tears fell swiftly, you prayed it was the kind of crying that would just knock you out and put you to sleep, because god, did you need to sleep.

Only a few minutes later, maybe not even, the door swung open to reveal Eddie on his knees with a flashlight between his lips and a screwdriver in his hands and you, sobbing on the bed.

He jumped up at the sight of you curling your arms around your waist harder, at the way you rolled away from him and pressed your wet cheek into the pillow. At the way your hoarse voice called out, “Please leave me alone Eddie.”

The door closed, the lock clicked, and there was a distinct sound of both items he held dropping to the carpet with thuds. The bed dipped and the heat of his body curled behind you, fingers gently brushed over the damp skin of your cheek and neck.

Your body shook with more tears, eyes squeezing closed tighter when he pressed his nose to the back of your head while his arm wrapped around your waist, and he waited.

The tears eventually slowed, your chest started to fall and rise more evenly, and the light filtering in through your curtains started to turn lavender, then blue. Eddie managed to remove your jeans without waking you, and he pulled the duvet up over your shoulder as he bit his lower lip raw. Your face still didn’t look relaxed, like it was crying and worrying even in your sleep.

He left the room with with his fingers rubbing at the back of his neck, walking past the bathroom where water sloshed over the counter and soap slid down the-

Taking several steps backwards, his mouth opened, then closed at the sight in front of him, before he finally found his words and quietly asked, “Whatcha doing?”

His three children stood in a line in the mirror, looking at him in the reflection. Lacey held a stack of plates and silverware on the left, on her toes, pink socks (that were supposed to be white, but there must have been a laundry incident he was unaware of) fully submerged in bubbles, her little arms hoisting them to rest on the counter halfway. Caroline stood in front of the overflowing, sudsy sink, her hands invisible inside it, and Michael next to her with a rag and plate.

“We’re washing the dishes,” Caroline shrugged, like it was obvious.

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing at his jaw as he hummed, “I…see that. Why are you doing that in here?”

The three kids blinked at him, and he tried not to smile, because you weren’t kidding that they eerily looked like him when they did that. They were all clearly confused, and then Michael said, “The kitchen sink is broken. It has been all week.”

Eddie closed his eyes, your cursing under your breath and beating up of the pipes when he got home making much more sense now.

All week? Why hadn’t you told him?

Shit, had you told him?

He cleared his throat and he tapped on the frame. “Right. Well, thank you for doing them. Try to stay quiet, mom’s sleeping.”

His body had barely turned out the door before Caroline called out, nervously, “Is she okay?”

Eddie wasn’t a fan of lying, even if it was to protect feelings. But the sight of his three kids with concern evident on each of their faces told him they’d know if he did anyways. Something told him they already knew she wasn’t and it was him who didn’t know the answer.

He sighed, entered the room deeper and kissed the tops of each of their heads, before he threw some towels over the floor that had puddles of water accumulating.

“I think she really needs to sleep, and I’ll talk to her later. But I think you guys doing the dishes really helps. Thank you.”

So while his kids did the dishes in the bathroom sink and you slept, the dog and…one…? goldfish kept him company in the kitchen where he inspected the sink.

It was an easy fix, but he didn’t have the part, and his stomach tensed with guilt as he thought about how you probably, definitely, asked him to look at it or call someone right away and he forgot. A simple drive down the street to the hardware store tomorrow, he’d have it fixed in less than an hour.

He put the tools away in the garage, above the label for them that you must have made and he went into the small office space in search of a post-it to put on the sink. The office was intended for you, but years and kids and projects went by and soon it became a dumping ground of all things house.

When he reached the desk, he found what he was looking for. There were plenty of post-its, in a variety of colors, lined up in a neat row above a large, tightly and neatly filled calendar.

Eddie swallowed as his fingers brushed over the names of his kids, him, the fucking dog and fish - all with their own color. The house, the bills, the errands…all of it had colors, schedules, a science, a system.

But the thing was, you weren’t a part of the system - you were the system.

There was nowhere, in that entire calendar, that had anything remotely relaxing for you on it. No dinner or wine night with any of the girls. No book club with Nancy anymore, maybe because they moved, but he had a feeling it still wouldn’t be there if they hadn’t. No dates with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he took you out, or hell, made you dinner - when was the last time he even cooked dinner for the whole family?

He swallowed as he read over the entire month, and the next and the next. Anything that would have been considered free time, or your time was full of laundry, grocery shopping, dusting the fucking baseboards, because apparently you do everything?

And Eddie knew he had colosally, monumentally, brutally, fucked up.

So when the kids were in bed, and the kitchen was clean, and the lunches for the next day were packed, and the laundry was folded and put away, Eddie crawled back into bed behind you.

He didn’t think you were awake, carefully letting his arm curl around you and his lips brush your shoulder in a wordless goodnight, an apology, a promise to talk about it as soon as you woke up. But then your words floated out and hung in the dark room and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie sniffled, trying to reign it in, he cleared his throat, but you were already rolling to face him and he had his palms pressed to his eyes as his words left him all scratchy and on the brink of a full blown sob.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare fucking say it again.”

Your fingers had curled around his wrists and tugged gently, until watery eyes were blinking at your own and you shrugged and whispered, “But I am.”

His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, noses squished together and gasps of air between parting mouths, fingers clutching at hips and necks as your legs tangled.

When was the last time he fucking kissed you like he meant it? Like it wasn’t a quick goodbye, goodmorning, or a hey, doll, how was your day as he half listened?

He shook his head, mouth catching yours in quick kisses between each softly spoken word, “No, I am.”

Your palms pressed to his cheek as your leg hitched over his thigh, breathless as he traveled over your jaw and down your neck for the first time in what felt like months.

Maybe it had been.

“Can you,” you tugged on short curls behind his ears as his tongue traced your collarbone which made you both groan, “Jus-just let me apologize?”

Eddie practically growled out the word no before his lips were back on yours.

It was fast fingers pulling at clothing and sharp teeth nipping at lips and skin, no foreplay, ‘just fuck me’ quick, and quietly because of the kids, kind of sex, until it wasn’t.

It only took him three thrusts to realize it wasn’t what he wanted. Quickly becoming memorizing touches that glided over skin and held with care, it was lips that whispered apologies and all the things he loved about you into yours, quiet and passionate pushing and pulling with each other, and hands gripping the others as you came together and said everything you couldn’t with intense eye contact, fingers deep in the curls at the back of his head as his name left your mouth only to be swallowed by his.

His lips brushed down your shoulder and back up, over your collarbone and chest as your fingers scratched at his scalp gently.

He hummed against your throat before whispering, “I think we should go to the cabin next week.”

“Eddie…” you started softly, already panicking about the missed events the kids would have to make up, the packing, the-

“Stop,” he kissed your jaw, then hovered over your face so his big, brown, sweet eyes could look down at you, “I can hear the stress coming out of you, and I just got it all out.”

You laughed quietly, fingers pressing to your eyes as you shook your head. Unconvinced, and if you were tired before, he’d just made you even more so.

Eddie kissed at your fingers, your nose, your cheek until he was nudging at the fingers again with his nose.

“Baby, I promise, it’ll be a good vacation. I think we could all use it. And I swear, I’ll be the parent. You kick your heels up and get drunk on shitty wine with Katie, okay?”

And here you were, doing just that.

The late/early morning arrival was not the shit show you were sure it was going to be. The kids listened immediately about being quiet entering the cabin at the late hour, especially after Eddie said if everyone woke up, the entire day on the lake would be ruined.

You woke up, without an alarm, for the first time in…you didn’t know how long. Greeted in the kitchen by Steve’s wife, Katie, quietly squealing and grabbing you in a hug that seemed to melt the tension from your shoulders. Eddie handed you a steaming cup of a coffee accompanied with a kiss on your temple and a swat to Steve’s chest when he tried to do the same.

The kids were already showered, dressed, fed - fruit and waffles and minimal syrup thankfully - and outside playing. You had your suspicions this was all largely due to Steve and his wife’s doing. If you dwelled on it too long, the comparison to how much better they were at the whole parenting thing than you could drive you insane, so you tried to ignore it.

There was only one argument with Lacey about the Nintendo, and Eddie snatched it and pocketed it and simply shrugged at her scowl when he did and said, “Told ya, babe.” Michael complained about lunch, but only until Nora, Steve’s eldest and seventeen, said “Oh, I love chicken salad” with a wink in your direction. You’d never seen Michael eat so quickly before and he was a garbage disposal on a good day.

And now, your heels were “up” leaning against the deck’s railing from your spot on the floor, a wine glass was in your hand. Katie was telling you all about Nora’s new boyfriend, Charlie, who Steve positively hated, as Eddie and him stood nearby, with beers and watching meat on the grill or whatever men do.

“Charlie is the least of our worries though,” she waved her hand with an eye roll, sipping the pink wine with a grimace, “I mean, you know. They’re monsters. Why’d we have them again?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “If you think yours are monsters, mine might literally be the devil incarnate.”

She snorted into her glass and you laughed, swiping at your lips with a shrug, “Okay, too far. But god, they’re…I don’t know. But, seriously, you and Steve…”

Your voice fell as the boys yelled over the grill at two of the girls doing cartwheels dangerously close to the fire pit.

“You guys, you really know what you’re doing. You’re a good team.” You smiled sadly, looking at the back of Eddie’s head and then at her.

She was watching you closely, a tilt of her head like she was trying to figure you out, before she grabbed your hand and squeezed it and admitted, “I yelled at him about loading the dishwasher wrong last week. We didn’t talk for three days.” She frowned and shook her head and looked over at him and he flipped his spatula and winked at her and she smiled and turned back to you. “Things aren’t ever what they seem on the outside. We all have shit. It just matters if your shit is something you can trudge through together. If you can help clean it off each other.”

She frowned at the wine she started pouring. “I don’t think this wine is helping with my metaphors, but you get what I mean?”

You nodded, taking in Eddie’s profile as he talked with his hands and got louder as he told a story to Steve.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

It was silent as you both stared at the guys, sipping your wine, until you whispered, “So he loaded it wrong, huh?”

“So wrong!” She exclaimed, grumbling, “Who puts plates all willy-nilly? They go in a straight, neat-”

“I said I was sorry!” Steve shouted from the grill, his hands on his hips as he glared at the two of you.

Katie stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head with narrowed eyes and she grinned, a quiet and not as silent as they thought conversation about her paying for that later.

You looked away, smiling into your wine glass when you caught Eddie’s gaze. He looked a little shocked when you made eye-contact, his cheeks flushed pink and you cocked your head with bunched eyebrows at him.

An unanswered silent question though, because the kids all shouted as a black SUV pulled up the long, gravel driveway.

A tall, lanky body jumped out of the backseat of the car before it was even in park, a head full of bouncing red waves shooting across the grass towards the literal swarm of children screaming, “Aunt Robin!”

She was down, on the ground, in literal seconds, the children forming a nice heap on top of her that the four of you all yelled about getting off at the same time, sharing grins that only parents who grew up doing the same thing and feel wrong for telling them not to could.

Your eldest, was bounding over to the car, along with Olivia, ready for the third to round out the little trio of three musketeers - Zoey Wheeler.

As they hugged and squealed about being back together, you all started down the steps to greet the late arrivals.

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline standing a touch away from Olivia as the two other girls gossiped about something from school.

But then Nancy was enveloping her in a tight hug, “Hey kiddo, hear you’re gonna be in the windy city pretty soon.”

Too preoccupied with your own waving of arms to tell her to stop talking, you didn’t notice Eddie whip his head over at Steve, who blinked with his hands raised.

Your head fell as Caroline turned to you with curious eyes and a quiet, “What?”

Eddie opened his mouth to explain, but you were already talking, him blinking behind you.

“I…I haven’t even told your dad. It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. You and me, driving to Chicago to go to this dance store that Zoey and Olivia go to. It’s not new stuff, but their dance troop shops there and it’s all really nice stuff and - oof!”

Caroline’s arms were squeezing you harder than they ever had, face pressed against you as her words got lost and muffled, but didn’t lose their meaning when she said, “Thank you so much mom.”

Your fingers ran over her hair, lips pressed to the top of her head as you enjoyed the hug for as long as she’d let you. “Of course, honey. Happy early Birthday.”

The girls quickly started discussing what they’d do on the trip, and Nancy winced out an apology you told her was unnecessary as you hugged, all while Eddie gulped down his beer and Steve narrowed his eyes at him which made Eddie wave him off, grabbing another beer out of the cooler.

“I am in need of assistance,” Robin called weakly, from her spot on the ground, now abandoned by all the children who were quick to return to their activities.

Nancy sighed and drawled dramatically, “Coming, dear.”

Robin groaned from the ground, but giggled. “Thank you, sugar-pie.”

“Robs, I’ll leave you down there…” she warned.

“Fine,” Robin shrugged, blue eyes staring up at the matching sky, “Dingus will-”

He was already hoisting her up, and grabbing her in a big hug only the two of them could find comfortable from the amount of squeezing suffocation.

Nancy looked at you and Katie and sighed.

“Wine.”

You were both already handing your glasses over with smiles before she could finish the word.

She was thoroughly tipsy by her third glass, and the stress you could sense when she arrived - maybe it was a thing all you mom’s could sense, or maybe it was because of being old friends - was melted from her face as she called out, loudly, excitedly, “Robin!”

“Yes, my love?”

Robin’s legs swung as they dangled from her hoisted up spot on the railing by the men. A baseball hat turned backwards over waves tinted red and silver and a sly smirk resting on her lips as she looked at her wife with more love than should be possible in a human.

Nancy’s cheeks flushed and you all snickered into your glasses, because you all knew what was coming next.

“I, uh,” Nancy cleared her throat, as big, blue eyes tried to blink innocently, “I need to talk to you. Inside.”

Robin grinned and nodded, “Lead the way, Wheeler.”

Nancy frowned, but clumsily made her way inside with a giggle.

With a hop down, a salute, and a quiet, “Duty calls, boys,” Robin followed, all of your “boos” and “ow-ow-ow’s” slammed on by the door.

Katie pulled out a stack of cards, the boys finally came over and joined you, and your legs crossed over Eddie’s lap as you hid your deck from him with a terrible poker face.

He soothed his thumb over your ankle bone, wet his bottom lip before he grinned at you. “Baby, remind me to never take you to Vegas.”

“You have taken me to Vegas.” You touched your cards to your nose, hiding your grin.

Eddie sucked his teeth as he nodded, “Right, right, how could I forget.”

“Seriously dude,” Steve moaned at his cards, frowning, “Vegas was a mistake.”

Katie smacked the back of his head and he flinched, but with a glint in his gaze at her, “What the hell was that for.”

“They got Lacey because of Vegas,” she scolded, “It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Believe me, I remember. I don’t remember much, but that I do. It’s sort of hard to forget the results of that trip. What with the children who came out of it. Lacey, Annie and-”

“Luke is stupid!”

Steve sighed at the now sherbert colored sky. He groaned, “I knew it was too good to last.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped your legs from Eddie’s lap as Lacey stomped up the stairs, huffing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie sit up, but you were already grabbing at your daughter’s crossed arms and pulling her towards you.

“Woah, super mean word, let’s think of a better one.”

“A buttface!” She frowned, but didn’t resist your embrace as she climbed onto your lap, a privilege that was fleeting.

“Nope, try again.” You shook your head, letting your chin rest on the top of her head as a hand soothed up her spine, while hers gestured wildly in search of the right word.

“He’s…he’s…impossible!”

You hummed, great word - especially for a seven year old.

“Why is he impossible?” You asked quietly, Katie taking the hint and getting Steve and Eddie to go back to a semi-normal conversation and their cards.

Lacey fiddled with your shirt collar, grumpy and big lips pouting just like her dad. “We were playing Dragons, and he said that I had to be the princess and stay in the tree house while he fought the dragon and saved me! I don’t want to just sit there!”

Steve smiled around the lip of his beer and Katie rolled her eyes, looking at you with a mouthed, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Ah,” you adjusted in your seat, hugging her closer as her fingers roamed to the necklace around your throat. “I would be frustrated by that too. I like helping. I don’t want someone to come rescue me, either.”

You glanced up at Eddie who smiled softly at you, watching intently.

“Right. So I’m not playing. I don’t like him anymore,” she huffed, breath warm on your already sweaty skin and fingers leaving something sticky and smelling like pine trees all over you.

“You don’t, huh?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘P’, but her gaze wandered over to the yard where the boy in question fought his sisters with sticks.

It took you a bit, and maybe you were just soaking up the smell of her strawberry shampoo, or the way she fit perfectly in your arms, but you finally asked softly, “Hey, you remember Dimitri and Anya?”

Lacey shifted with a dramatic sigh, but she nodded.

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t like each other either. But, then Anya showed him she could do anything he learned to do, right? And he listened to her? She helped save him in the end, remember?”

“Spoilers!” Steve grimaced and Lacey giggled which he smiled and booped her nose at.

“So,” you lifted your daughters chin, big eyes that reminded you of someone else peering at you unwaveringly as you continued, “You go tell that Harrington boy that Princesses can slay dragons too.”

“They can?” Lacey asked, unsure, unconfident, in a way that melted your heart, put it back together and melted it again.

You nodded and cleared your throat, trying not to cry. “Absolutely.”

She started to climb off of you, but you tugged at her waist, brushing a curl behind her ear as you smiled, “And baby?”

“Yeah?”

You kissed her forehead and whispered, “It’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help, kay?”

She nodded, kissed your cheek, and hopped off, bounding down the stairs with a sing-song call to her tone, “Ohhhh, Luuukkkee!”

Lifting the cards from the table, you smiled at the sound of your daughter antagonizing a Harrington and before you could make a jab at Steve, fingers were under your chin, and Eddie was tilting your head, lips on yours and stealing all of the air from your lungs.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and his hand cradled your jaw as you opened for him without thought, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt until loud clearing of throats came from your right.

You broke away with a gasp, but Eddie pulled you back in for one more press of his lips and a whispered, “Sorry,” as he sat back down looking not sorry at all.

Steve tried to hide his grin as he threw a chip into the pile and Katie grinned at you as she quipped, “Wow, guys, you’re worse than the lovebirds inside.”

Eddie didn’t look up from his cards, but he raised his eyebrows. “I seem to recall an incident in my home on my kitchen counter on my daughter’s first birthday, Katherine.”

“Touche, Edward, touche,” she beamed as Steve choked on his beer.

He quickly changed the subject, swiping beer from his lips as he looked at you. “You’re gonna have to show me how you did that.”

Your wine glass froze halfway to your mouth and he laughed, coughed, covered his mouth with his fist. “I meant the talk with Lace. Not the kissing. Now that you guys’ll be closer we can…”

Eddie hung his head as Steve trailed off and you quirked an eyebrow. “Closer?”

Katie took a large gulp of her wine and Steve gestured to the grill with a hook of his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna…”

“I’ll help!” Katie jumped up and followed.

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

He sighed, set his cards down, scooted his chair closer to you before his hands grabbed yours.

“I got a promotion, sort of.”

“Wh-what? Eddie, that's great!” You squeezed his hands, your heart hammering in your chest because he wasn’t looking at you still. The knowledge that there wasn’t really room for a teacher to get promoted stirring in your brain. “Wait, how…”

He grimaced, thumbs swiping over your knuckles as he nodded. “Right, yeah. So, it’s not so much a promotion, as it is a completely different job, at a completely different school. Or um, University.”

“In…in Chicago?” You were starting to piece it all together.

“Mhm,” he hummed, biting at his bottom lip that you instinctively reached up and pulled away from his teeth gently. He finally looked up at you, worried, and apologetic, but hopeful. “It’s, it’s a really great job. Tons of benefits. At the university. Way more pay. Flexible hours. I’d-I’d be home so much more. And I know, I know that moving is insane. But I just…”

He rambled, and you got lost, because you were thinking about telling the kids, about uprooting your entire life, about never seeing the patch of wall that the kids heights were on again. Your routine, your system, your grocery store, all pulled out from under you.

But then you then thought about how you’d only been on this vacation for a day and how much less stressed you were. How Steve and Katie and Robin and Nancy would be in the same city as you again. About how happy your kids were with all of them, how happy you were with them. The support you’d have. The promise of more time with Eddie. The adventure.

“Okay,” you said softly, interrupting whatever he was saying.

Eddie blinked at you, mouth parted in surprise.

“Okay? Okay what?”

You shrugged.

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s move. Take the job.”

Eddie swallowed, he scooted closer and he cupped your jaw, thumbs grazing over your cheekbones as he murmured. “Okay, let’s do it, like you’re excited and want to, or okay let’s do it, like you don’t think you have a choice and you’re stressed and sad and I’m gonna have to unlock the door with the screwdriver again?”

“I mean,” you laughed, brushing over the worried lines of his forehead as you did, “Okay let’s do it. It’s gonna suck to move and tell the kids, but I think…”

They always tell you, you see stuff in slow motion in moments of panic, fear, but you never really believe it until it happens to you - seeing it all happen before it did.

“Oh my god!”

You were pushing back from Eddie, yelling your daughter’s name as she climbed up a tree, her foot about to step on a branch that looked dead and rotting even from this distance, and then she was falling.

There was a boy shouting beneath her, and his older sister’s shouting at him, screams of mom and dad that all four of you raced towards.

Everyone’s footsteps except Eddie’s slowed when you saw the eyelids fluttering over brown eyes pooling with big, crocodile tears and the leg already swelling with bright red trickling down from it.

Katie was shouting about grabbing the girl’s from inside, about ambulances and driving. Steve was pulling at all the other kids, reassuring them it was fine, and Eddie was focused on Lacey and Luke.

You don’t really remember what you did. You had arms around you and you spoke, but you don’t know what you said. Ushered into a car by big hands and a little one grasping yours tightly.

In the end, all it was, was a deep gash in her leg, nothing broken. Luke a little worse for wear with a fractured wrist, but he beamed when Lacey signed her name on the cast and asked you how to spell Princess before it, then kissed his cheek and told him thank you for saving her.

The rest of the week was the same as the first day after that, save for the two kids who huddled next to each other on the couch on the deck, their temples pressed together as they shouted at the screen of the Nintendo Eddie gave back almost immediately. Day three of watching his kid that close to a Harrington boy made him rethink the whole move and said it wasn’t happening anymore, which Steve promptly replied with, “Dude, they’re seven. Wait till she’s seventeen and dating a guy named Charlie.”

Nora’s head had perked up from coloring with the younger kids, an expression almost identical to her father’s as she scowled. “I thought you liked Charlie!”

“I do, I do sweetie.” Steve rubbed at his temple and gave Eddie and you a look that said he really did not like Charlie.

Time moved too quickly, and the light-hearted moments turned to memories, and soon bags were packed by the front door, and everyone was restlessly sleeping, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

Which is how you found yourself quietly making your way down the stairs to the kitchen, when you woke up to the empty bed and cold sheets.

You found him in the living room, eyes glued to the hand held device, his thumbs jabbing at it while he frowned.

“She wasn’t kidding,” he whispered, the girl in question tucked into his lap, her leg propped up on a pillow and drool spilling down his white shirt.

His arms flexed with each press, tattoos that were rarely on display anymore dancing under each movement. Short curls that the flecks of gray in stood out in the moonlight. Lines of worry and laughter all over his face, brown eyes gifted to all of your children because of the same ones maintaining their gaze on the console.

You slid onto the couch next to him, curling into his side with a yawn and a gentle rearrange of Lacey’s legs onto your lap. Fingers gesturing for him to give it to you.

Eddie handed it over, his arm scooping Lacey closer to his chest while his other wrapped around your shoulders.

You kept your eyes on the game as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The breath huffed out of his nose hit your jaw as he quietly laughed, “Babe, what?”

Mario leaped over blocks as you told him again, “I’m sorry. I froze, I don’t know what happened. Thank you for taking care of her, of all of them, I don’t-”

“We’re a team,” he kissed your cheek, his smile stayed pressed to your skin, “You know, a wise woman once said, ‘it’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help.’”.

A hum from your lips that fought a smile as his fingers squeezed your shoulder. You couldn’t help but grin at the screen though, when you pressed A for the final time.

“I think I know her. Same lady who said Princesses can slay dragons, too, right?”

The screen lit up with little fireballs, trills and chimes coming from the console signifying you beat Bowser - this time, all of which you quickly tried to cover up as Eddie shushed.

“Mommy,” her sleepy voice muffled in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetie?” You whispered, console silenced.

“Volume,” word almost lost to the yawn she gave before she was snuggling back into the crook of Eddie’s elbow and was out again.

Eddie tried not to snort or let his laughter shake her as your mouth fell open in shock and he took the Nintendo back, moving on to the next level.

You shook your head at your daughter, and glanced down at her wrapped and injured leg, at the peaceful features of her sleeping face.

“Man, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” you sighed.

It was silent for a while, and your eyelids started to flutter closed too, when Eddie spoke again.

“I totally thought Bowser was a turtle.”

#eddie munson #dad!eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #superbly subpars writing #cw alcohol #cw injury #cw blood #easy like sunday morning universe #easy like sunday morning AU

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thisapplepielife · 3 months ago

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Written for a @astrangersummer.

Of All the Gin Joints

Nancy lets her eyes adjust to the darkness and flashing lights of the club. It's not exactly her comfort zone. But she watches as the men, and the women, move to the beat of the music that's bouncing the speakers, thumping so hard she can feel it in her chest.

She's never been anywhere like this, not really. It's not exactly her scene, never has been.

So, she finds a spot to stand in the corner, leaving a buffer, so she can take it all in. She always needs to study first, she never just dives face-first into anything. Unless it's an emergency. And this? Not an emergency.

This is just an unknown, an exploration of her sexuality that might be coming later than most. She thinks she should have done this sooner. Maybe not the club part, but the acting on her interest in women. But she didn't. Not the women, and definitely not the club, so now she'd like to know more before deciding to be all in on being a club-going person, especially at her age.

Watching, it's clear that everyone seems to be having a really fucking good time, and aren't paying any attention to her clinging to the shadows, like a wallflower.

She's about to maybe make a move more towards the center of the action, when she catches a glimpse of a familiar smile, and she steps to the side to see better, to clear her sightline, to really make sure. And, yes, it is Robin, bouncing, laughing, dancing with a guy, seemingly having a hell of a good time.

It's not Steve, this guy is far too short, and it isn't until he turns that she realizes it's Gareth. He's just chopped off all his curls, which she thinks is kind of a shame.

But, beyond that, she knows if Gareth's here, that means Eddie's here, and if Eddie's here, well...there he is. Steve Harrington, bouncing, hair flying, looking twenty instead of over forty.

Looking free.

And happy. Really, really happy.

She hasn't seen any of them in person in years, only recently watching from afar on the new Facebook thing that she was bullied into joining by Dustin. She's not too mad about it, since it means she gets to see pictures of all her old friends, and gets to know that they're doing okay out in the world, living their lives. At least when she remembers to login and check.

Nancy hasn't decided if she's going to approach them or not. This is new to her, and while she knows they'd be supportive and fun and totally in her corner, she was really only looking to dip her toes in, not plunge headfirst.

But she doesn't get to decide, because Robin's caught sight of her and is waving frantically, with an enthusiasm only Robin can muster. She's missed her, she realizes. Missed all of them.

She sees Robin turn and yell in the other direction, hands flailing, nearly hitting those around her.

She hasn't changed a bit.

So, Nancy waves back, and heads her way. She's kind of glad the decision was made for her. It's easier that way, and she gets to see Robin.

When Nancy approaches, Steve is suddenly there, picking her up and swinging her around so hard, she feels her back pop. She's not sixteen, not anymore, but he doesn't seem to have gotten that message as he squeezes her against him, before finally putting her back on her feet but still doesn't let go.

"I can't believe you! You're here!" Steve says, smiling wide and so fucking happy.

He's glowing.

There's a ring through his eyebrow, and tattoos crawling up his arm, and yet, he looks exactly the same, somehow. Just really, really happy and all grown up.

It's a good look on him. Honestly.

He giggles, squeezing both of her arms, "Nancy Wheeler."

She almost corrects him, but it is Wheeler again. Her divorce was finalized and she took her own name back, and she doesn't expect she'll ever give it up again. It's who she is, and she kind of hates that she ever forgot that.

"Where's Eddie?" Nancy asks, leaning towards Steve's ear, trying to be heard over the music.

"The bar!" Steve screams back, and she looks that way, expecting to see him in line for drinks, but he's behind the bar. Putting on a show, as always.

It's a little mesmerizing. But Eddie Munson always was, for better or worse. He had an unique skill for capturing an audience and refusing to let them go.

Steve wraps his arms around her neck from behind, forcing her to walk in front of him, leading her right towards Eddie.

"Look who I found!" Steve shouts and Eddie grins, leaning up on and over the bar to cup her cheek, kissing the other one.

"Hey, Wheeler. What can I get you?" Eddie asks, waving his arm down the bar in a sweeping fashion.

She isn't sure, so she lets him pick, and he gets to work, sliding and twirling, dragging the bottle upwards as he pours, and she grins. He was made for this, she's pretty sure. Putting a show, holding an audience.

She hadn't realized he was a bartender, but she crawls up on an open bar stool, to watch him work. She expects that Steve will sit down next to her, but instead he walks around behind the bar, and kisses Eddie before he makes himself a drink. It's not as impressive as watching Eddie do it, but it's definitely not Steve's first time behind a bottle either, that's for sure.

"Do you own this bar?" she yells, and they both nod.

Of all the gin joints in all the world, she happened to stumble into theirs.

It really is a small world after all.

She hadn't heard they'd bought a bar. She must be more behind on that Facebook thing than she thought. Or they've owned longer than Facebook has been a thing, and it was old news she'd just missed out on hearing. She'll have to ask Dustin, or Mike. Get filled in on what they know.

"It's great!" she screams back, and it is. It's a little loud, a little overwhelming, but it seems like a really fun atmosphere.

They both smile, and Steve is holding his own drink, and Eddie leans over putting the finishing touches on it. Then Steve's back across the bar, sitting next to her.

"You're here by accident?" Steve shouts to be heard, and she nods. She heard about the queer friendly bar, that wasn't really a club exclusively for young people, and it looked like something she might want to check out, now that she's open to exploring that side of herself.

She should have known she'd be drawn right to Steve, the only other bisexual person she really knows. That's just how these things work with them. There are no accidents. They've all been tied together for a long, long time, even as they've drifted and lived their own, separate lives.

They try to talk over the music, but it's impossible, and Steve takes her by the hand and leads her behind the bar, and into an office. He closes the door, and the sound is suddenly gone. Silenced.

"Soundproofed?" she asks, sitting down on the couch.

Steve nods, "I still get headaches sometimes. It gives me a place to go to get away from the noise if I need to, without having to go all the way home."

"Smart. That's smart," she says, looking around. There are pictures lining the walls, filled with tons of familiar faces.

"It was Eddie's idea," Steve says, grinning, "he just wants me to be comfortable."

Then he smiles a different smile, a softer one, "And nearby."

Nancy smiles back at him, happy he's happy.

"He looks good, by the way," Nancy says, "really good. You both do. Robin, too."

Steve just smiles, because he knows that's true. Time has been kind to them, all of them, it seems.

"Gareth should have kept those curls, though," she teases.

"Don't tell him that, it's a sore spot," Steve says with a grin.

"Mum's the word," she promises.

Then the door opens and closes, Robin sliding inside. She bounces up and down, clapping her hands, "Nance! I can't believe you're here!"

Nancy stands up, and hugs her. Robin isn't as awkward as she was at eighteen. But she's still got that funky style that Nancy's always been a little jealous of, if she's totally honest. That innate ability to just be herself.

Steve is standing there smiling, and then says, "I'll let Robin show you around and catch you up. Eddie'll cry around if I skip out on helping him."

Nancy knows that's not true. Eddie Munson worships the ground Steve Harrington walks on, and has since 1986. At first it felt like Nancy was losing something that she might want again someday, and wanted to bristle up at Eddie. Claim her territory.

But she quickly saw how Steve looked back at Eddie. She knew that look, and well, and she was happy for him, even if it was kind of hard to let that door close for good.

By the time they all went their separate ways, it was pretty obvious Steve and Eddie were in it for the long haul, and probably would always be.

And here they are, still together, and they still look fucking happy.

She's not surprised one bit.

And good for them. She isn't sure what it would be like to pick right the first time. She's picked wrong twice now, and she's not excited to do it again.

Women. She might try women for a while. Forget all about men for a stretch and see how that feels, how it goes.

Robin is sitting next to her, and as soon as the door closes behind Steve, leaving them in quiet again, Robin's asking a million questions.

Always curious, Robin.

Nancy answers them. Mike's good. Three kids that act just like he did, which he definitely had coming.

Robin catches her up on everybody she's still close with that Nancy hasn't seen in a while, and it's nice. Comfortable, like no time has passed.

"You want another drink? Dance? Some food? Anything?" Robin offers.

"Yes," Nancy says, and hell, she thinks she might want it all.

Another couple drinks in, they are bouncing around the dance floor as much as their middle-aged knees will allow, when Nancy reaches forward to brace herself against Robin's hip.

She didn't mean anything by it, but the sudden shift on Robin's face is telling another story.

Oh shit.

Okay, yeah. That.

She steps forward, and Robin meets her halfway. Lips pressing against hers in a way that she only barely let herself think about, in a time gone by. The curiosity was there, down deep, back when they were just getting close. But Nancy didn't know how to define it, how to understand it within herself.

She does now.

Robin's hand slides up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades, as she kisses her in a way Nancy's never been kissed. Not by anyone, maybe.

She should have known. She should have realized that this is what she was looking for, missing, late to understanding.

When Robin pulls back, she smiles, and Nancy smiles back, her heart beating hard against her chest.

She wants to do it again.

So she does, leaning up, pressing her lips to Robin's one more time, eager to see where this can go from here.

Hopeful, and excited.

Ready.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

#a stranger summer #week seventeen #prompt: “I can't believe you!”#stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #stranger things fic #ronance #steddie #thisapplepielife: a stranger summer #thisapplepielife: short fic #ronance fic #robin x nancy #fruity four fic #fruity four #platonic stobin

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wheatnoodle · 1 year ago

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i love you, evangeline

og post | part 1 | part 2

evie didn’t sleep a wink that night. she stayed up, tossing and turning in her pink sheets until ultimately giving up and passing the time watching movies on her laptop.

the sun rises through her curtains and knowing robin has an early shift, she pulls herself out of bed and into the kitchen.

there’s french toast in a pan on their stovetop when the thoughts that had plagued her all night came back. she misses dustin somethin’ fierce. thinking about being able to sit with him and hear all about the years she’s missed not being there, of telling her everything my she’s always dreamed of telling him. all the things he had missed as well.

she wanted him there for every accomplishment they’d had out here. she wanted to open the letter with him when she got into college. she wanted to wake up after her confirmation surgeries to robin AND dustin waiting by her bedside (she at least had robin for those which she is eternally grateful for. everything evie has done since she left, she wanted dustin there with her.

robin comes stumbling in, all bed head and smudged mascara. she flops into a stool at their kitchen table, eyeing evie suspiciously as she places a plate in front of her, a mug of hot tea following soon after. evie sits next to her, her own plate and mug on the table.

“what’re you doing up?” robin asks through a yawn and picks up her mug.

“good morning to you too,” evie says and reaches out a hand to try and tuck some of the tangles of robin’s hair behind her ear. robin rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.

“good morning, dingus. why are up?” she smiles and sips her tea. evie’s poking at her french toast with her fork, her eyes down at the table rather than where robin’s are burning holes into the side of her head.

“i wanted to talk to you,” is what she decides on.

“about what?”

“…i wanna see dustin…when he comes to visit.”

robin’s brows shoot up under her bangs and she can’t stop the warm smile growing on her face. she’s been waiting years to hear those words. years she was more than happy to wait, but years nonetheless.

“i’ll let him know. maybe he can come over for dinner,” she rests her hand on evie’s knee and smiles at the little nod her friend gives. this is good for them.

~🌷🌻~

taggie waggies:

@lololol-1234 @xo-r4e @paintsplatteredandimperfect @homohomohoe @charlies-candid-corner @tartarusfairy @howincrediblysapphicofyou @crying-trashcan @steddie-as-they-go @bestwifehaver @sexymothmanincarnate @zoeweee @romanticdestruction @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @breadboi66 @shadowofaliar @mollymawkwrites @lofaewrites @estrellami-1 @ronance-is-my-wife

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carriedawatermelon · 1 month ago

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Ronance Kinktober, chapter four. Idk when it stops being a ficlet, but this is nearly 6k words soooo. In which Nancy has a surprisingly good afternoon (and Robin does, too). Did I look up Indianapolis museum exhibits in 1986-87 for this? Yes, yes I did.

Prompt: Multiple Orgasms

The spare key is in a fake rock by the garage, and Nancy grabs it before she goes back to her car for the casserole dish, balancing it on her hip as she pushes open the front door.

She rolls her eyes at the fact that every single light in the house is on, despite the fact that Steve’s at work, and makes her way to the kitchen, sitting the casserole on the counter as she opens the fridge to make sure there’s room.

It’s a little strange, to be moving milk and leftovers she doesn’t let herself think too hard about in Steve’s fridge, but it’s nice, too, to be comfortable enough to do this again. They’re friends. Really friends. Steve hangs out at the house, with Robin and Dustin and Erica, somehow, and Vickie now, sometimes too, who is…nice. Fine. They’re friends, all of them. Things are still a little weird with Jon, but she imagines, hopes, that they’ll get there, too.

Her mom is pleased, winks at Nancy like she knows something when Steve comes around, giving a deeply annoying nod of her head at Nancy’s repeated and emphatic assertions that they are friends, that they are not getting back together. “Sure, honey. Of course.”

Nancy tries not to let it grate too much. It doesn’t matter, really, except that they are friends and they’re not getting back together. They had talked, after Vecna, after the second round of Vecna, bruises yellowing on their skin. Nancy had spoken to Jonathan the day before, and she wanted to get it all over with, let herself hurt all at once if she had to.

It had hurt. Both of the conversations had hurt, but they had hurt the same way it did when she buckled her seatbelt in those days after the upside-down, the strip of fabric pressing into a body that was still healing. A reminder that she was actually healing, the pain a sign that she didn’t want to hurt again.

She wasn’t what he wanted, couldn’t be, not that she had any desire to try. He understood, a level of self-awareness that was welcome and unexpected. For her part, it hadn’t hurt her when he’d admitted he had been scared and grasping, that Nancy had been there to hold on to.

They had taken a few days, less time than she expected, and then he’d called and said, “Come watch a movie with us. It’s her night, and Robin says you can pick.” She had gone to watch a movie with them, and there had been ten minutes of weirdness, the two of them in the kitchen with the soda and pretzels Nancy brought, and then they’d both smiled and it had been fine. It’s been fine for months, better than fine, and Nancy had hoped the year she decided to take before starting college would be good for her, but she couldn’t have anticipated that it would be this good, full of genuinely easy time with her friends. She’s happy that she’ll be staying closer, happy about Northwestern.

Now, she’s here, wrinkling her nose at a pizza box taking up way too much space on the second shelf. She’s sighing and taking it out and risking a look because her mom has sent her with a casserole, chicken spaghetti, which Steve loves. Maybe she thinks Steve will look at it and look at Nancy and be a little closer to reaching for his class ring, just until he can get something better.

Nancy can’t care too much. She and Steve understand each other, and it’s good, anyway. Steve gets a home-cooked meal, which he needs, and just as often that means Robin gets one, too.

Robin, who’s over at her house more than Steve, charming her mother by asking genuine questions about the book she’s reading or the sewing projects she’s started doing again since half of Hawkins fell into a hole. Robin, who treats Holly like she’s a middle-aged friend with a desk job, asking about her day at the office and her coworkers. The bit’s been going for at least six months now, and it still makes Holly giggle the way a seven year old should. Robin, who has Mike’s respect since they went back in, since she stood in front of them with a spiked baseball bat and a line of Molotovs and has the scars to show how much she meant it.

Her dad even grunts in recognition when she gets to the house. He doesn’t typically care for people or noise or anything at all, his unflappably kind youngest daughter a notable exception, and he has noticed the way that Holly laughs when Robin’s around. It hadn’t hurt that Robin had seen his Pacers socks, a Christmas gift from Holly, and had a twenty minute conversation with him about odds and drafts and players. Twenty minutes. At Nancy’s obvious gape, Robin had said, stealing a cookie, “I’ve got a little cousin who doesn’t talk at all, but he’ll talk about the Pacers, so I learned about the Pacers.”

Nancy’s come to terms with the fact that she’s got feelings for her that go well beyond platonic with a capital P. It’s not what she expected but if she ignored things or pretended they weren’t real just because they were unexpected, she’d be no better than most of the adults in Hawkins. She’d also probably be dead. Ignoring a demogorgon is not an effective method of defense.

Ignoring the way her stomach flips around Robin, the way she wants to smooth her perpetually wrinkled work shirt just to see her blush, the way she wants to hold her hands and play with her rings and the astonishing amount of time she’s spent thinking about the fingers on which those rings sit—well, Nancy’s not interested in a method of defense, anyway. She’s interested in Robin, in the the things that she says and the way that she thinks and the places she wants to go. She’s interested in the blue of her eyes and the freckles that cover her skin and the rasp of her voice.

It feels good, to be interested. It feels good to sit close to her at movie night, to lift Robin’s arm and tuck herself underneath it and feel her chin on her head. It feels great, to make Robin laugh. It feels amazing, to wake up with Robin’s arm around her, her breath against her neck, the length of her body wrapped around Nancy’s warm and safe. Better, to turn carefully and brush her hair back from her face, watch blue eyes blink open at her and a smile spread slowly and the blush that still covers her cheeks when she realizes how close they are. She doesn’t pull away, not any longer, not since Nancy made it clear, kept making it clear, that she didn’t want her to.

By the time Robin told her, Nancy had already seen her with Vickie at the volunteer center. She’d watched and watched as they made sandwiches and sorted clothes and then something had clicked into place. Nancy’s from Hawkins but she’s never wanted her world to be that small. She knows about homosexuals. Her mom’s got a cousin in Chicago who lives with his best friend, and she’s known Will Byers his whole life, was ready to stand with Jonathan between him and anyone who had a thing to say about it.

She’d felt silly, for a minute, that she thought Robin and Steve were together. And then she’d felt something else entirely. She pushed that away, when Robin brought her a milkshake and asked if they could take a walk, made herself soft as Robin stuttered and stumbled and landed, finally, so visibly nervous it made Nancy ache. “I like…I like women. Girls. In a…in a romantic way. I’m a lesbian.”

Leaning over, the chains of the swingset creaking, she put her hand on Robin’s. “Thank you for telling me.” Robin’s tears of relief had broken her heart.

She’d told Nancy about Vickie a few days later, cheeks red and fingers picking at her bottom lip. And Nancy had smiled and acted the way a friend should, asking questions and encouraging her. Two weeks later, Robin had shrugged it off with a little too much nonchalance, said they were too similar and Vickie wasn’t sure she was finished with her ex anyway and they were better off as friends. The better parts of Nancy hugged Robin and made cookies with her and Holly and made a fool of herself dancing and singing to David Bowie and Heart. The worse parts of her managed to develop a vicious grudge against Vickie while also celebrating that she could do something about the fact that someone had been dumb enough to let Robin go. Vickie’s loss.

She tries to see the Nancy’s gain part of that equation, too, because she thinks, maybe, it is her gain. Or it will be soon. She sees the way Robin looks back at her, the way she has started lifting her own arm for Nancy at movie nights, the way her grin turns crooked when Nancy laughs. So Nancy’s gain, as soon as she can bridge that last little gap. And Vickie really is nice enough. She and Robin really are friends. Still, Robin once mentioned Vickie’s order at the drive-thru, and now Nancy never brings Sprite to movie nights if she’s there.

She’s thrown out half the leftovers in the fridge. She can’t help herself. It’s unsanitary and she spends too much time here to let the place where she finds food and drink become a Petri dish. She’s washing her hands when she hears footsteps on the stairs and then movement at the door of the kitchen.

“Did you forget the tapes? I put them by the front door, I thought.”

It’s Robin, long legs hanging out of white and green checked boxers, an oversized blue t-shirt exposing her collarbone and part of one shoulder. She’s got on some of Steve’s basketball socks, and her hair is mussed like she just climbed out of bed. Nancy wants to shove her right back in.

“Nance,” she says, smiling big. “What’re you doing here?”

“My mom made chicken spaghetti,” she says, gesturing lamely at the fridge, and she knows she sounds strange, disaffected maybe, but she can’t focus on anything but Robin.

She doesn’t know why. She sees Robin in her sleep clothes often, wakes up with their legs tangled and has regularly scratched gently at her back under one of those big t-shirts. But there’s something different about this, about seeing Robin here, at 2:00 in the afternoon, sunlight streaming through Steve’s kitchen window and highlighting the patches of freckles on her thighs, the golden hair that covers her legs. Sleepy and vulnerable and soft and Nancy wants her.

She’s moving, and Robin’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Nance?” And then Nancy’s on her, hands bunched in the fabric of her shirt, mouth pressed hot against Robin’s. “Oh, fuck,” Robin whispers into the space she makes to breathe, but her eyes go dark and she’s got Nancy pressed against the counter, her hands on her hips and then lower, cupping her thighs. Nancy takes the hint, puts her own arms behind her on the counter and pushes as Robin lifts, mouth never leaving Nancy’s neck.

“Fuck,” she says again, teeth grazing Nancy’s skin, and Nancy’s head hits the upper cabinets with a thud. It’s loud enough that Robin pulls back to check on her. “Okay?” Nancy’s not sure she sees the nod, but her hand tugging Robin back to kiss her is answer enough, probably, or her tongue pressing against Robin’s with purpose.

Hands move across her body, over her back and shoulders, cupping her neck, running through her hair. Eventually, they work at the buttons of her shirt, but they’re distracted, a little shaky and Nancy bats them away gently, undoes the buttons herself as Robin splays her palms over her thighs. Robin’s nosing at her temple, pressing kisses to her jaw and licking at her neck, hot and gentle and everything Nancy wants. When she finally gets the buttons undone, she shrugs the shirt off and brings Robin’s hands up to her chest, sighs out as she feels them cup her over her bra.

“Jesus, Nancy. You’re so beautiful.” It’s reverent, disbelieving, and Nancy blinks open her eyes to find Robin, breathing hard but looking at her with a kind of awe that makes her blush. Robin Buckley, melting her. It’s not a surprise. Nancy needs her, badly, so she presses her chest out as shamelessly as she can, and Robin groans. “Fucking perfect. Oh my god. Am I still napping? Is this real?”

“You’re not napping,” Nancy says with affection and enough tease to make Robin duck her head. She misses Nancy’s hands moving behind her back, undoing her navy blue bra. She does not miss the way the bra loosens, head snapping back up and hands moving to tug at the straps, eyes fixed on Nancy’s chest. “This is real,” Nancy says, proud of the way her voice is steady as Robin begins to thumb at her nipples. “If you want it to be.”

Hands move around her back at that, Robin pressed to the counter between her knees as she kisses Nancy hard and filthy, holding her close. “Yeah, I fuckin’ want it,” she rasps as she moves back to bite at Nancy’s collarbone, and Nancy’s wetter than she’s ever been in her life. “Lemme show you, okay? Wanna show you.”

“Yeah, Robbie. Show me, baby.”

Robin pauses, places a gentle kiss to tender skin, and Nancy runs a hand through her hair. “You like that?”

It’s almost shy, the nod into her neck, and Nancy’s reminded of the fact that Robin’s never done this, not just the sex, because Nancy’s never done it quite like this either, is astounded by Robin’s confidence, frankly, but the affection, the closeness. The relationship. That’s what Nancy wants, and that’s what she wants to give Robin.

She tucks her index finger under Robin’s chin and brings Robin back up, leans forward to kiss her softly, a short, sure press of her lips. “Baby,” she says again, and this kind of softness is new for her, too, but it doesn’t feel dangerous. Robin bites her lower lip, her hands running up Nancy’s thighs to come rest on her waist.

“Hi,” she says, still shy, and Nancy’s in danger of falling apart.

Instead, she traces Robin’s left eyebrow. “Hi,” she echoes. “I’m sorry I threw myself at you without saying hello first.”

Robin’s eyebrow twitches under her finger as she grins. “Literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Please do that whenever you want.”

“I think I’ll probably generally say hello first.” Robin lights up, so pleased, and Nancy leans forward to kiss her again. “But good to know I have permission to skip it if I need to.”

Need, Robin mouths to herself, and Nancy rolls her eyes.

“I had plans, you know. To ask you out properly and bring you flowers and kiss you good night.”

Robin laughs and Nancy arches an eyebrow. “I am absolutely not kidding.” Robin’s staring at her, wide-eyed, and Nancy puts on her best I know what I’m doing face. “Actually. Robin, are you free Friday night? I’ve been hoping to take you out, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

There is, almost unbelievably and absolutely embarrassingly, a nervous edge to her voice. Robin’s eyes blink, taking her in, and then she’s hugging Nancy, long arms wrapped tight around her waist as she nods. “Yes. Yeah. I’m free Friday.”

“Good.” Her hand buries itself in Robin’s hair, keeping her close. “I’ll pick you up at 6.”

“Nancy.” Her head shakes lightly. “Sweetheart,” she tries softly, and Nancy closes her eyes as her heart thuds happily, humming her approval. She’d never used pet names, really, hated it, when Steve and Jon used them. She doesn’t hate this at all. Arms loosening, Robin’s hands begin roaming over the exposed skin of Nancy’s back. She shivers, fingers tightening, and Robin whimpers. “You feel so good.”

“I want your hands on me all the time,” she confesses, and is rewarded with the tips of Robin’s fingers digging into her skin, short nails just enough to make her hiss.

“I want my hands on you all the time.” Her voice is back to that low, broken sound, and Nancy lets her free hand run down Robin’s back and over her ribs, resting against her sternum.

“Do you want to keep going?”

It’s a serious question and she asks it seriously, but Robin barely takes a second to answer. “Yes.” She flattens her palms again. “I’m nervous,” she admits. “But I don’t want to stop.”

“You’re doing a great job so far.” Maybe she shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t cant her hips or squeeze her thighs around Robin’s body where it rests between them. She does, though, and Robin doesn’t seem to mind, trying to press further forward into Nancy. Her hands move back around, slow, stopping below her breasts. Robin’s eyes are careful but wanting, her breath growing ragged again, as Nancy leans close, says against her lips, “Touch me.”

That’s all the permission Robin needs, her hands moving with confidence, thumbs catching and pinching her nipples until Nancy’s arching for her, mouth gasping against Robin’s. “Harder,” she says, and Robin groans her approval, pulling with intention and leaving Nancy’s mouth for her jaw, her ear, her neck. Her mouth is greedy, and Nancy’s happy to give her whatever she wants, hands buried in her hair encouragingly.

When her mouth moves lower, taking a nipple into her mouth and moaning happily around it, Nancy reaches down and undoes her jeans herself. Robin notices, stops sucking so she can help, pulling at the fabric while Nancy lifts her hips. She takes her panties, too, at Nancy’s nod, and then her bare ass is on the kitchen counter, her pants bunched at her ankles, which was not in her plan for today, but she could give a shit, really, because Robin’s running a finger through the mess that she’s become, cursing into the air as she watches herself touch Nancy.

“So wet,” she says, fascinated and precious, grazing Nancy’s clit and making her hips jump.

“For you,” Nancy says, because she wants Robin to know, and the look she gets back has her hips moving again.

“What should I…how?” She says, and Nancy kisses her, licks at her bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth. Robin’s finger is still moving, but she looks dazed when Nancy pulls away.

“Inside,” Nancy says. “Want to feel you.”

Tentatively, she slides her middle finger into Nancy, both of their eyes watching, and when she pushes past the second knuckle, Nancy closes her eyes and makes a breathy, broken sound of pleasure, because she feels good, and because it’s Robin.

“Okay?”

“Mmhmm. Yeah. Yes. Good, Robbie. You feel so good.”

“Oh my god,” she says, and then starts a narration that has Nancy shaking. “You’re so wet and so warm and so tight. God. I can’t. You feel so good, Nance. Fuck. Fuck.”

Her finger’s moving slowly, in and out, and then she crooks it, feeling and pressing and Nancy’s eyes fly open. Robin’s so focused, it takes her a second to notice, another second of her touching Nancy exactly the right way, and it must show on her face because Robin gets the look she gets when she wins an argument with Dustin. Smug. Nancy clenches around her.

“More,” she says, and Robin’s sliding a second finger in, the pads moving and pressing as she thrusts.

Her mouth moves to Nancy’s, their kisses deep, and then she kisses down again, biting at Nancy’s left breast and taking a nipple into her mouth. Her tongue moves against it, and Nancy holds her to her chest with one hand while she slips the other between her legs, finding her clit.

“Shit,” Robin says as she pulls away, panting. “Yes. God. Touch yourself for me.”

Moving to do just that, Nancy wonders idly if she and Steve have been taking advantage of the little adult section behind the curtain in the back room at the store. Is there lesbian porn there? Is it any good? She has doubts on both counts. The pictures in the magazines she’d found under Jonathan’s mattress had seemed ridiculous, but the stories had been…okay. Her mind refocuses as she dips her fingers lower to get them wet, bumping Robin’s and causing them both to groan. She’s ready, like a livewire, and as soon as her fingers start moving, she knows it won’t be long.

Maybe Robin knows, too, because she leaves Nancy’s chest to whisper filthy things in her ear. “Wanna feel you come for me. Can feel how close you are, so tight around my fingers already. So hot. You wanna come, Nancy?” She whimpers her response. “Wanna come with me inside you? Promise I won’t stop until you tell me. Come on, baby. Come for me.”

She does, Robin’s fingers crooked perfectly inside her and her middle finger working furiously against herself. Robin keeps her promise and doesn’t stop, keeps fucking into her as Nancy clenches around her, body rocking and shaking as her orgasm rolls through her. Eventually, she takes her own hand away, leaning back against the counter with her palms braced.

Robin follows her, kissing her softly and then letting Nancy tuck her into her neck, warm lips grazing skin and nose running along her jaw.

“Holy shit, you’re gorgeous,” she whispers, and Nancy feels the flush in her cheeks, the honesty of it overwhelming. She’s still inside her, and she’s making no move to leave, and Nancy, Nancy doesn’t want her to. In fact…she rolls her hips in a test, and a cry punches out of her, unexpected.

“Nance?”

Anticipating that Robin might try to pull away, Nancy catches her wrist and holds her still and close, grinding again, moaning loudly.

“Fuck,” Robin says. “Fuck. Gonna give me more, sweetheart?”

Fluttering her eyes open, she meets blue and bites her lip. Normally, she can make herself come more than once in a night, but she needs time. She’s never done it with a partner, rarely ever came at all with Jon or Steve, unless her own hand was involved and her eyes were closed. But right now?

“I want to,” she answers, and Robin looks determined. “I want you,” she adds, tugging at Robin’s earlobe affectionately, like she’s not riding her fingers on Steve’s kitchen counter and begging to get fucked again.

Robin kisses her softly, and then less softly, and then her fingers are moving and she’s saying, like maybe she’s just as wrecked as Nancy, “Can you take another?” And Nancy’s nodding because she can and because she wants it.

Robin’s third finger stretches her open, and it’s so good, the ache of it, the pressure, the way she shifts inside Nancy to keep the friction where she wants it. She slips her second hand down, thumb taking over the job Nancy had been doing a few minutes ago, and she experiments until Nancy says, “Like that, like that,” her hands gripping at Robin’s shoulders over the sleep shirt she should’ve made her take off.

Her breath is heavy near Nancy’s ear, and Nancy’s louder than she’s ever been, little noises and affirmations constant in the air between them, and then she’s tightening, and Robin’s saying, “Yeah, Nancy, good girl, come for me,” and Nancy does, and, miraculously, shaking as she holds herself against Robin’s body, she wants more.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says breathlessly, disbelievingly, moving a soothing hand to Robin’s hair and explaining when she hears the concerned noise she makes. “I want more.” She laughs at herself, makes a pitchy, wanting sound when Robin flexes, still inside her, at the admission.

“Let me give you more,” she says simply, just as breathless. “Let me…” She pauses and Nancy waits, focuses on her breath and not on the fingers spreading her open. “I want to go down on you.” She can’t help the clench, and Robin’s moan makes her do it again, and holy shit, she’s so close already, so, so close, and she could come like this, again, but Robin’s mouth is on offer.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” It’s genuine, like maybe she doesn’t know how easily Nancy would beg if she asked her, if that were what she wanted.

“Yes. Please.”

But when Robin kisses her, shifts her arm to get a better angle, get closer, her fingers press just right again, and Nancy’s so full of her and wants to stay that way, needs to stay that way. She clutches Robin to her, and Robin understands, starting steady, slow movements of her fingers. Her other hand comes up between them, teases over her breasts and stops at her neck, cupping carefully, thumb running the faint scar that runs the circumference. Robin has one to match, a thin white line that catches Nancy’s eye when she laughs in the right light, head thrown back. She moves to kiss it now, an impulse she can finally indulge.

Robin’s hand moves, the base of her palm adjusting so that Nancy can grind against it. “Robin,” she sighs against her neck. “Yes.”

It probably wouldn’t be enough, normally, but she’s so sensitive, so ready, that it’s more than enough, her body freezing in pleasure in a way that catches her by surprise. She shakes, again, breathing out against Robin’s collarbone, her hand now holding the back of Nancy’s head, her fingers still slowly moving.

“I want to do that forever.”

It’s an inside thought that escaped, which Nancy knows even before Robin’s body tenses. She kisses her neck in reassurance, her nails digging into the fabric over her shoulder blades.

“Sounds good to me.” It’s quiet but steady, and it makes Robin relax under her, press a kiss to Nancy’s head.

Her brain doesn’t whir over the exchange the way it usually might, something about three orgasms, probably, and about Robin, definitely, giving her space to breathe. They have months before they go to college to figure things out, and they’ll be in the same city when they do eventually go, and so what, anyway. She means it. It does sound good.

Nancy has spent the last few years making herself hard, being what other people needed her to be, and this isn’t that. This is letting herself be nineteen and in love and wanting, maybe for the first time.

With another kiss to Robin’s neck, she leans back on the counter. Deep pink covers Robin’s cheeks and the bit of her chest that’s exposed, and she’s biting her bottom lip, and Nancy smiles at her and then looks down, to where Robin’s still inside her.

“Oh my god,” she laughs, mostly to herself. “This is insane.” When she looks back up, the smug tilt is coming back to Robin’s lips and Nancy’s very into it, but she wants to gain back a little ground, just for the fun of it. “Still interested in going down on me?”

It works, smug replaced by an almost innocent eagerness, a rapid head nod. “Yeah. Yep. Super interested. Please.”

Overcome by fondness, Nancy pulls her close again, kissing her before nodding. “Okay.”

They separate, Robin reluctantly removing herself from Nancy, wincing in sympathy as Nancy does and kissing her soundly, murmuring sweet things to her as she holds her close and then moves to tug her panties and pants up where they’re caught on her sneakers, helps her settle on the floor again.

She links their fingers, bringing Nancy’s hand up to kiss her knuckles and smile shyly, and Nancy’s got butterflies, wants and wants and wants.

Robin’s room, the one she uses at least five nights a week, though she technically still has one at her parents’ house, is next to Steve’s, and she apologizes, hand at the back of her neck, for the mess. It isn’t a surprise. Nancy’s been here before, slept tucked next to Robin in her perpetually unmade bed. She knows how to navigate the piles of books and cassettes and pens and notebooks. She recognizes the drawing pad open on the desk, makes a note to move the two glasses of water that sit beside it, both nearly full, and bring her a fresh one. The clothes Nancy assumes Robin was wearing earlier are tossed over the back of the desk chair while dirty laundry sits in a small hill in the corner. It smells like her, sour candy and leather and lavender. It makes Nancy feel easy in herself. It makes Nancy feel close to her.

She’s still topless, but she bends down to unlace her sneakers and toe them off, kicking them out of the way and then shucking her jeans and underwear unceremoniously. Robin watches her, licks her lips, and then pulls her own shirt over her head, pulls her boxers and the briefs she wore under them down her legs and kicks them into the dirty pile.

“Fair’s fair,” she says with a shrug, but there are nerves in her face and in her posture and Nancy, breath gone at the sight of her, can’t have that.

She’s kissing her, hands tracing paths up new skin, and she presses her back into the bed, climbing over her and straddling her thighs.

“Fuck, Robin. You’re perfect.” She means it, absolutely, her eyes wandering over gorgeous tits and patches of freckles spanning her ribs, the dusting of hair below her belly button and the dark blonde that covers her, just above where Nancy’s settled herself. Robin’s looking up at her, vulnerable, the sharp cut of her jaw and line of her nose familiar and no less striking every single time. Nancy wants so badly to give her everything she can.

“Can I touch you?” Her hands are resting neutrally on her stomach.

“Y-yeah. Please. If-if you want to.”

She stretches her hands and body out at that, smiling sharply. “I want to,” she confirms, and then takes Robin’s nipple into her mouth.

She cries out, a hand holding the back of Nancy’s head, and Nancy sucks harder, pleased, rolling her hips against Robin’s thighs and humming at the relief of it. Her other hand comes up to work her other breast.

She takes a sharp breath, overcome. Nancy has come to understand she’s a homosexual over the last several months, had just had the best sexual experience of her life in an objectively uncomfortable position with her clothes tangled at her ankles because it had been Robin touching her, but the difference in the way she feels when she touches Robin still nearly strikes her dumb. She wants to be everywhere, to touch and taste and hear the sounds she makes.

“Nancy,” Robin says, almost begging. “Nancy, please.”

She pulls herself off and sits up to meet Robin’s eyes. She’s barely touched her, has much more she wants to do, but she takes pity on Robin, writhing as much as she can with Nancy pinning her down.

“I’ve got you, baby.” She bends to kiss her, and then she’s kissing down again, over her sternum and her ribs, nosing at her belly button and then at the hair beneath. “Okay?” She asks, and Robin nods frantically.

“You smell so good,” she observes, as much a happy note for herself as for Robin. Yeah, absolutely a homosexual, she thinks again, desire running through her like fire. She wants to bury herself in Robin, so she does, nose and tongue and then her fingers, gently with another nod from her girl. Her girl, tight around Nancy and letting out perfect moans and little pleading mewling sounds, one hand in the sheets and the other in Nancy’s over her hip.

“Nancy, Nancy. I’m gonna come. Oh my god, I’m gonna-“

She’s so tight, her knees bending up and her thighs clenching around Nancy’s head and then falling to the bed, sprawling and boneless like the rest of her. Nancy grins, wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, and crawls up her body. Their kiss tastes like Robin, whose eyes are dazed, arms wrapping around Nancy and holding her close. Her heart beats quickly against Nancy’s ear. Being skin to skin with her this way is so good Nancy isn’t sure how she’s going to avoid the temptation when Robin stays over.

“You’re so good at that.” The preening is reflexive and she doesn’t try to stop it, not that Robin can see it, except maybe she knows anyway, an amused huff raising Nancy’s head with her chest and her hands scratching at her back.

“I’ll get better with practice.” It’s important to her, being competent. This is an area where she hopes to excel.

She can feel Robin’s laughter, or the tired form of it she can manage. “I mean, you’re at an A+ already, summa cum laude, all of it, but uh, I am definitely here to help with practice. Whenever. Wherever.”

“Why are you here?” It’s a thought she hadn’t bothered with, much, much better things to think about, but Steve had told her the house would be empty, had reminded her of the spare key. “At home, I mean. Today. Steve said nobody would be here.”

“Oh, yeah. I was supposed to be in Indy. There’s an exhibit at Newfields I wanted to see, but the bus didn’t run, so I fucked around at the library for a minute and then came home to nap.”

“Sorry you didn’t get to go.”

Robin snorts, holds her closer. “I’m really, really not.”

Pressing another kiss to her sternum, Nancy says, “Wanna go with me? To the exhibit? I’ve got time tomorrow or, I know I said 6 on Friday but we could go earlier.”

“You wanna drive to Indy to go to a basket and quilting exhibit with me? I’d like you to actually keep dating me, Nance. You really don’t need to do that.”

It’s light, easy, and Nancy tries to keep her response the same, manages, mostly. “I like watching you get excited about things. It’s one of the things that made me want to date you in the first place. Teach me about baskets, Buckley.”

It’s true, the shift from annoyed to endeared happening rapid-fire when Nancy realized Robin is, genuinely, just being herself. She likes languages and art and music, has spent her whole life trying to keep herself entertained in a town that does its best to keep the world small. It had been no surprise when she’d gotten into Chicago, eyes alight with possibility once Hopper made clear the government would be footing the bill.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Yeah. Let’s go look at baskets.” She shifts, and Nancy goes with the movement, ends up on her back with a very naked Robin Buckley boxing her in, a dangerous smile on her face. “But first…”

She’s warm and eager and Nancy tilts her head back and sighs as she works her way down.

#ronance #ronance fic #ronance smut #ronance kinktober

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starrystevie · 1 year ago

Text

18+ | modern ronance / cw: public sex | crossposted from twitter

robin has her nipples pierced. she has her nipples pierced and doesn’t wear a bra and always has on a too tight or too sheer or too short top making them obvious to those who know what to look for.

nancy knows what to look for and it drives her crazy.

they aren’t dating, they aren’t fucking but they’re dancing around being something with flirty grins and touches that could almost be considered lingering if they didn’t pull away so quickly. robin looks down at nancy with hooded eyes and she looks back with mischief in her own, promises of that something behind each of their gazes.

but every time she wears one of those goddamn shirts, nipple rings protruding enough to see the outline, to see when she’s changed from a bar bell to a ring, nancy is one know-it-all smirk away from letting robin know how she feels.

she wants to get her hands on them. wants to feel the metal under her palms. wants to rip off a too tight too sheer too short top and get her mouth on them. wants to have robin in her lap, riding her thigh so she can lick the ring into her mouth and tug on it with her teeth.

and nancy is anything but stupid. she knows that robin knows, knows that she wears those fucking shirts on purpose to see nancy barely holding herself together. she’ll make sure to stretch her arms up so the shirts go taut and tight when she knows she has nancy’s eyes on her. she’ll lean forward when she’s wearing a loose button up, enough to have so much skin on display that it has to be intentional. she’ll scratch lazily at her tit and get her nipple hard so that everything is obvious through the fabric knowing it will make nancy lose her mind.

and it does. every single goddamn time. nancy always has to go home and fuck her self on her fingers as she thinks about robin’s tits, about leaving bites and bruises on them until the rings stand out even more against her marred skin, coming hard and fast at the thought.

eventually she knows she has to do something about it. she knows she needs to tell robin that she’s not only in love with her but also in love with her perfect, perky tits and needs to see if she can fit one in her mouth, needs to flick at her nipples until she comes.

turns out, she doesn’t have to wait much longer. steve and eddie pull them out to their favorite club one night for their two month anniversary like it’s an actual day to celebrate and the girls, of course, go along. the guys are grinding against each other in the corner and robin buys nancy her usual vodka soda while she gets her own jack and coke. her shirt tonight is sinful, sheer enough that somehow the metal shines through when the club lights hit just right, loose enough to push a hand under without rucking up the fabric.

they go to the dance floor without question because that’s what they always do, robin holding nancy’s hand as she pulls her along under some guise of not wanting to lose her in the crowd even though they both know that’s not the only reason.

it doesn’t take long until they’re pressed together, nancy’s back to robin’s front. it’s what they always do but tonight it feels charged with something else. robin’s hand is on the side of nancy’s hip, loose enough to break from but tight enough to know she wants her to stay. not that nancy would want to break away from her anyway.

she’s feeling a little wild, a little daring, and maybe it’s the vodka or the way that robin’s piercings are obvious against her back. she snakes a hand up to wrap her arm around the back of robin’s neck, pulling her closer. she can feel her hot breath puffing against her skin as she leans down, following the pressure from nancy's hand.

the fingers on her hip flex and tighten, pushing them together the tiniest bit more and she can feel when robin drops her head to rest in the crook of her neck. her breath is even hotter now, closer to her bare skin than she was before, dampening her already sweat soaked skin.

nancy tangles her fingers into robin’s hair, coaxing her down to hint that she can put her lips on her skin if she wants. she can taste her if she wants. it doesn’t take long until nancy jumps when a kiss is pressed featherlight under her ear. her fingers tug on the hair between them and it’s like a green light moving all systems to go.

there’s a tongue flicking out to finally taste nancy’s skin and she pushes her hips back to grind harder against robin. there’s a hand traveling from her hip a bit closer to where she actually wants it, pressing teasingly into the lowest part of her belly, lust rushing behind her behind her bellybutton at the sensation.

nancy drops her hand from her head so she can place it on top of robin’s, pushing her fingers down so the pressure increases. she gasps at the feeling and can feel robin do something of the same, teeth scraping against her skin followed by her tongue like she's trying to sooth it. in the back of her mind, she's hoping robin will do it again.

she’s glad they know each other so well since they won’t be able to hear each other over the music. as robin’s hand goes to move lower, nancy spins in her grasp, desperate for something else. now they’re face to face, robin’s eyes hooded and dark in the low light, trained on nancy's lips, her own lips spit slick from her ministrations on her neck.

her leg slips between nancy’s as her hand comes to rest on the center her ass, pulling them close. it doesn’t take long until nancy’s pushing up on her toes as robin bends down so they can finally kiss each other for the first time. she isn’t surprised when a tongue flicks out against her lips, isn't surprised when hers comes out to meet it either.

making out with robin on the dance floor is great, heavenly, everything she could want. well, almost everything that is. her hand slides onto robin’s side just under her loose shirt. her skin is warm against nancy’s fingers, under her palm, soft in a way that makes her want to get her mouth on it.

robin surges forward and presses harder on her ass like she knows what nancy wants. needs what nancy wants. her shirt is loose enough that nancy's hand finds her tit easily. it fits perfectly in her palm just like she knew it would, heavy in that wonderful way that makes her mind go blank with desire. with their legs entwined, they both roll their hips in an obvious way to get pressure where they need it, mouths opening on moans that get drowned out by the booming bass.

robin pulls back from their kiss and keeps nancy’s bottom lip bitten between her teeth, tugging gently like a hint of what she really wants. when nancy’s finger slip up to pinch her nipple, she lets go of her lip with a hiss and thrust of her hips.

“you gotta thing for tits, wheeler? that’s so fucking hot,” robin mutters against her ear as she brings her hand around from her ass to her front.

her hand slips easily under nancy’s skirt, palm flat against her wet panties to give her something more to grind on. nancy can feel her eyes roll back and she tugs harshly on robin’s nipple causing them both to groan.

"no, i have a thing for your tits. drive me crazy with those things..."

their hands are clever and fit where they need to be and soon enough they’re both rolling their hips and breathing into each other’s mouths as they come.

nancy keeps her hand on robin’s tit, tugging and pinching to keep her squirming in her grasp, rocking her hips needily against robin's hand as she rides out her orgasm. robin gets back at her by slipping 2 fingers into her soaked through panties, sliding into nancy’s wet cunt easily and swallowing the groan she gets in return.

“we need to go,” nancy says as she stretches up to get her mouth to robin’s ear, pussy clenching around the fingers robin is slowly pumping in her. “i need you naked and on my bed immediately.”

when they get back to nancy’s, she gets to see what metal feels like against her tongue. and if she finds a surprise piercing lower down, she’ll taste that one too.

#ronance #my writing #hi woke up ***** for the girlies so have this #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance drabble #ronance ficlet #modern ronance #ronance smut #eventually i will write a whole 100k of them fucking on every surface but i just don't have the time rn

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robinsno1lesbian · 5 months ago

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hey, hey!! hope you’re doing well <3

i have a blurb request! maybe a lil ronance x reader thing where r is feeling insecure that she isn’t loving them equally and hard enough, so they both remind her that she is being the best girlfriend to each of them <3

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

- ronance x reader

summary: after going to university with one of your girlfriends, you worry that robin might feel lonely back in hawkins.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, pet names (baby love, my girls, love), established poly relationship, i -once again- did not beta read this, i do want to mention that i’m not poly myself! so if there’s anything in this that isn’t accurate to the actual experience or if there’s anything wrong with the terminology, please let me know!! :)

a/n: @eds6ngel thank you so much for your request!! i really hope this is what you had in mind for this! it’s basically a little hurt with looots of comfort! it kind of turned into ronance comforting r about their dynamic, i hope that’s what you had in mind! <3

you’re hanging on the telephone, trying to make the minutes of the call last. you’re curling the cord of it around your index finger absentmindedly, your legs draped over nancy’s lap on the semi-comfortable bed of your shared dorm room.

she has already talked to your girlfriend, who’s currently rambling on about her shift with steve, and has handed you the telephone to get a taste of robin’s adorable rambling as well.

you’re still new to this. to them.

not dating in general; you did have somewhat of a girlfriend back when all three of you still lived in hawkins. so you’re not new to your sexuality or the fact that you love women. it’s the dynamic that’s new to you.

when you met robin and nancy, you quickly figured them out. in their defense they were trying to be sneaky about it, presumably expecting you to be as oblivious to it as everyone else around. unaware that you knew the hiding, the stealing kisses and loving in secrecy. that you experienced it yourself and saw it in them immediately.

how exactly it happened, neither of the 3 of you can recall. maybe it was between the glances you shared, the way they caught you staring at their proximity. perhaps it happened because of the lingering touches: robin’s hand on your waist when moving past you, nancy’s palm brushing over your own whilst praising you for your relentless, determined studying. or maybe it was none of these at all. maybe it was when you had the wheeler’s basement all to yourselves and one shared bottle of liquor turned into two, which led to your fumbling confession of the confusing feelings you had developed for both women.

they were not confusing at all, as it turns out. loving them both came to you easy. easier than anything you could’ve ever imagined before.

there was still lots of secrecy to it, as to be expected from dating two women in hawkins, indiana, in 1986. but they weren’t scared to love you, like your previous lover had been. they weren’t afraid of loving you at all. if anything, they were proud of having you as theirs.

what started as “trying it out” ended up with waking to the soft, floral scent of nancy’s sheets, sandwiched between two warm bodies. it ended up with shared kisses in the morning, at noon and in the evening too. two pair of shoes by the door turned into three. three toothbrushes in the bathroom, three plates set up for breakfast. three bodies curled up in bed together.

it ended up with the most loving relationship you could’ve ever wished for.

and it was perfect, even with the limited time the three of you had been given in hawkins together:

the plan had been settled before. when you’d been just a friend to the couple and nancy had asked you to share a dorm at university. you had obviously accepted, happy to have someone there with you, someone who wasn’t a stranger. robin would stay in hawkins, save up money to go to europe and work shifts at family video with steve. and you & nancy would leave, study at emerson together and become roommates.

now you’re in said room, close to nancy, and wishing robin could be here with the two of you. to have more of her than just the voice through the receiver.

“so anyway!” the girl tells you. “i told steve not flirt with her because -duh?- she’s heidi’s mother but he didn’t know that so-“

her voice sounds raspier than usual through the static of the receiver. she sounds happy. and, god, you hope she is. you don’t want her to feel left out, like you’ve left her behind in hawkins to be with nancy. you know that, rationally speaking, robin is okay. she misses you, of course. how couldn’t she? you’re her girls after all. but she’s happy that you get to pursue your dream while she works on her own from home.

still, you can’t help the nagging feeling that you’re not being fair. that you’re not loving them equally; the way they both deserve to be loved.

“hellooo?” her voice snaps you back to reality. “y/n? you still there?”

“yes!” you snap out of your thoughts suddenly. nancy notices and looks up from the book she’d been reading. “yes! of course! yes! sorry. steve was flirting with heidi’s mom?”

“he was!” robin nods, her smile evident in the sound of her voice. “he so was and he didn’t even know!”

you chuckle, accompanied by a gentle shake of your head. “typical steve move”

“that’s what i said too!”

the two of you share a moment of laughter over the phone before robin trails off.

“i miss you” she whispers.

“we miss you too!” you assure her immediately. “but summer break is right around the corner. then we’ll be back with you!”

robin hums her agreement. “yeah. i can’t wait to see mes filles”

you smile at the way she pronounces the foreign word. she’s already made plenty of use of the french dictionary you gave her when you left.

“your…?”

you can practically hear her beaming through the telephone. it makes you smile. “mes filles!” she repeats, slower this time. “my girls”.

“your girls” you repeat softly, just a breath, but robin seems to pick it up anyway.

“i can’t wait to see you” she says. “i love you”

“i love you too, take care of hawkins while we’re gone yeah?”

“will do” she assures you. “I’ll see you”

you blow her a kiss through the speaker before you say your goodbyes and hang up.

nancy is by your side immediately, nudging your leg softly.

“hm?” you snap out of your thoughtful trance and look up at her.

“what’s up with you, love?” nancy asks gently, and puts her book down. “you seem…?” she trails off.

you huff. of course nancy would notice. she’s majoring in investigative journalism after all.

“it’s just-“ you sigh. now nancy’s sits up, your vagueness alarming to her. she wraps an arm over your shoulder and pulls you against her body soothingly.

“hm?” she kisses your temple, her index tracing the moles on your arm.

“i don’t want her to feel alone” you admit under your breath. “robin. i don’t want her to feel like we’re leaving her behind in hawkins”

“oh baby love” nancy says, her lips ghosting over the side of your face. her grip tightens around your body too, pulling you closer to her.

“it’s just-“ you sigh. “i love her. just like i love you. but you’re here and she’s not and- and i feel like it’s obviously harder to show her all that love i have for her. at least from afar. but i want her to feel it! i want her to feel loved”

“she does” nancy softly interrupts your train of thought. “she feels loved baby! you have like- the biggest heart ever! it’s hard not to feel loved when it’s you”

you still smile against the odds of it all when your girlfriend speaks so fondly of you.

“she knows she’s loved, y/n” nancy says, slightly more firm this time. “we knew it would be like this. and of course the distance sucks! i wanna love both of my girls from up close too!”

you can’t help but chuckle a little and nancy side eyes you.

“pervert” she whispers under her breath, followed by another kiss to your face. “it’ll be easier once we’re all together again. but she loves us. so much”

it’s enough to ease your worries for now. you know, of course, that the love for the two of them will be enough too. it’ll always be enough.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

“y/n!!” a voice that is unmistakably robin’s calls over the airport lounge.

it’s hot in Indiana, warmer than it had been when you boarded the plane in massachusetts. robin is wearing a pair of loose shorts, presumably steve’s with how low they’re sitting around her waist. she’s got her short hair up in a messy bun, and her arms spread for you and nancy.

you drop your suitcase immediately, already chasing towards her with open arms. you’re squealing like a little child when you finally find yourself back in the taller girl’s embrace. nancy joins the two of you just a couple of seconds later, just as long as it took her to catch up with you.

“hi” robin whispers against your hair. she can’t be overly affectionate with the two of you yet, at least not as much as she wants to be, but her arms around your body are enough to finally soothe the ache her absence had left in you.

“hey” you whisper against her neck. hidden from the sight of anyone who might pass by, you press a quick kiss to the side of her neck. robin responds with a low hum.

“is she teasing already?” nancy smirks from behind you and the three of you loosen the hug enough for robin to present two separate flower bouquets: one of nancy’s favorite flowers, one of yours.

“robin” nancy says. “you didn’t have to!”

“i know” robin shrugs casually. “wanted too, though. my girls made it through their first year at emerson! how cool’s that huh? god i’m so proud of you. i could kiss you right now. i would. i really want to, to be honest. but- you know” she gestures around. you and nancy both share a grin. robin hasn’t changed at all.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

once you’re behind the closed doors of robin’s house, the girl is all over the two of you -and you’d be lying if you weren’t all over her too.

she’s got an arm draped over each of your shoulders, alternating between placing kisses to your temple and nancy’s cheek, joined with sweet whispers of: “missed you. missed you so so much”

you don’t even have time to properly unpack your luggage before you find yourself in robin’s bed. she had to size up ever since you’ve gotten together, saving up money to replace her small single bed with a queen sized one to make enough room. she’d done it happily, had been bouncing off the walls the day you were putting together the new furniture.

she’s sandwiched between your bodies, lying in your middle and curling against the two of you happily.

“wanna spend forever like this” she tells you. nancy chuckles and you grin.

robin turns her head to look over at you. you can feel her watchful gaze studying your side profile.

“hey” she whispers, nudging you with her shoulder. you turn over at her. nancy is watching you too. you know, right in that moment, that she must’ve told robin about your worries. you’re not gonna hold it against her, exactly. if anything, you’re happy nancy has told her. you doubt you would’ve found the words to express your feelings to her.

“hm?”

“you know” robin says, simultaneously reaching for your hand to rub your knuckles with her thumb. “i am so lucky to have you. to be loved by you. the two of you.”

“me too” you tell her quietly.

“you don’t have to worry, baby” she continues “about…me not feeling loved enough. or whatever it is you worry about in that brilliant mind of yours”

nancy smiles from behind robin. she’s holding her free hand as she speaks.

“even with the distance?” you whisper softly, chewing your lower lip absentmindedly. robin reaches out, gently pulls your lower lip down from between your front teeth before kissing your mouth gently.

“even with the distance. with everything.”

she mumbles against your mouth. she has crawled closer, but nancy has followed immediately and is now spooning her from behind.

“you’re my girls. you really think some stupid amount of distance would change that?“

a smile makes its way upon your features. she’s right, of course. your love for the two girls in robin’s bed isn’t limited to their physical presence. it couldn’t be.

“i love it even more when i have you both here with me, though” she grins and wraps her arms around your waist to pull you on top of her. nancy giggles behind her, her arms coming up from behind her to hug the two of you

“sure?” you ask.

“1000%. i’ll make sure you guys have the best vacation in hawkins. well. as good as possible. we’re in hawkins after all.” robin scrunches up the freckled bridge of her nose.

“we’ll make it work” nancy chimes in, brushing robin’s hair behind her ear.

it’s new, to all three of you. but you know, right then and there, that it will be okay. that everything will work out just fine, no matter what.

#ronance #ronance x reader #ronance x reader fluff #robin buckley #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley imagine #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler fluff #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x female reader #nancy wheeler x you #nancy wheeler imagine #nancy wheeler x robin buckley #nancy wheeler x robin buckley x reader #stranger things

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fentibeauty · 5 months ago

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ASS OR TITTIES? ᯓᡣ𐭩 (ronance headcannon ⋆. 𐙚 ˚)

NANCY WHEELER ୨ৎ

i see nancy being more of an ass person.

don’t walk past her in shorts, or tights. her eyes will immediately drop down to your ass.

she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s looking either.

she’s just so amazed on how someone’s ass can sit so pretty and be shaped so perfectly.

she’s the type to playfully slap you on your ass and act like she didn’t do it. she would look around the room as if she didn’t do anything.

when going in for a hug, nancy’s hands always start in the middle of your back, slowly making its way down to the cup of your ass. giving it a firm squeeze, as she brought your bodies close together.

during the night, nancy would always want you to lay on top of her for a bit. she always argued that rubbing your ass helps her go to sleep which you thought was a lie until one night she fell asleep during a conversation, hands still slightly rubbing your ass.

ROBIN BUCKLEY 𝜗𝜚

robin DEFINITELY loves titties. never questioned it. if she could lay on your titties all day she definitely would.

she starts her day on your titties and ends her day on your titties.

it’s scientifically proven that robin has a bad day if she doesn’t wake up laying on your titties.

she loves when you wear tank tops, lovesss it.

your titties sit so perfectly, too perfectly.

robin does get possessive and dislikes when you wear a shirt that reveals a lot of cleavage. throughout the day she would pull your shirt up, and then kisses you cheek afterwards. you roll your eyes at the action sometimes.

“baby, put on my jacket please. they’re staring at you.” robin rolls her eyes at the randoms who would check you out.

“robin it’s 90 degrees”

robin likes sticking her hand up your shirt as she sleeps, it knocks her right out, it’s like a comfort thing for her.

she has definitely thought about sucking your tittles but that’s a conversation for another day.

#robin buckley x black!reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #nancy wheeler x black reader #nancy wheeler x you #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler #robin x nancy #stranger things x reader

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fastcardotmp3 · 8 months ago

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Ronance; meeting at the wrong time and then again at the right time; past almost-cheating (not on each other); Nancy Wheeler's Joyous Divorce Era; Robin POV; 1.6k Written for @strangerthingsfemslash week day 2: women over thirty read day 1: different first meeting read day 3: secret relationship

“Go talk to her.”

Robin shoots Steve a look for his whispering, for his little nudge of his shoulder against her own, for the sly little smile on his face and the nod of his head out towards the open sliding door leading out to the patio.

“No, yeah, I’ll just go talk to her,” she snarks, throwing open the door to the refrigerator and staring at the collection of drinks and snacks available to her.

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“You put all this work into throwing me a party and you want me to ruin it in one fell swoop?” she glares at him again, but his gaze is softer now behind his glasses, leaning back against the countertop with his hands and body language all open and unmalicious.

It makes something in Robin slump, the sight of him, even in spite of the tension still holding too much attention on those patio doors. Her heart flutters at the thought of it, of just letting it all go and being able to talk like they used to.

Share stories and memories and laughter like they’re still twenty-one and getting legally tipsy for the first time instead of standing here on the day Robin turns forty and Nancy is still—

“I get so stupid around her, Steve,” she exhales, still clinging to the handle of the refrigerator door, the chill of it raising goosebumps on her arms. “I get so stupid, and if he’s here too? I can’t— if he’s here, I just can’t deal with that.”

Steve’s brow furrows slightly, but his posture doesn’t change.

“Have you seen him?” he asks. “You think I wouldn’t warn you if he was going to be here today? On your birthday? Come on.”

He meets her gaze head-on, not a single sign of dishonesty in those big brown eyes that have been by her side through every stumble and triumph of the past twenty years, and Robin exhales. Watches him reach past her into the fridge for a half-empty bottle of Pinot Grigio and pour it deftly into two thin-stemmed glasses.

“Go talk to her,” he insists, pressing one into either one of her hands, and all Robin can do is nod.

Trust that he’s not leading her astray on this.

Walk on unsteady feet to those patio doors and nudge it closed behind her with the thick sole of her boot.

Nancy Wheeler is a vision.

Sitting alone at the small metal table Robin had dragged all the way from her parents’ house a solid decade ago, the light of a new spring day dancing across the smattering of gray taking root in those dark curls, she’s a vision.

But when has she ever not been?

“Hi,” Robin croaks as her body alights with the touch of attention when Nancy startles and turns to look at her. “Can I sit?”

For a moment, Robin thinks she’s ruined Nancy’s search for solitude, a thing which all of them who survived the unsurvivable understand to some degree or another. But almost the instant Nancy lays eyes on her, she’s relaxing again, something calm to her that Robin hardly recognizes in the years since…

“I’d love that,” Nancy smiles and nods to the chair beside her. Close enough to touch, to at the very least feel the warmth that radiates from that soft skin which once upon a time Robin had— she had known.

Even if only the once. The most beautiful of all of Robin’s nightmares.

“Is that for me?”

“Oh! Yes, yeah,” Robin sets down both glasses as she takes her seat, nudging Nancy’s close to her and watching the pink of her lips, listening to the hum of gratitude as she takes a small sip. “Santa Margarita, I know it’s…”

“My favorite,” Nancy is still smiling. Still so impossibly calm.

Robin has seen her many times since they fell into Nancy’s bed together, since Robin saw a door closing as a new man came into Nancy’s life after the last and pushed her way into that gap with the wet heat of her tongue and thrust of her fingers. She had still only been dating him then, not even calling him her boyfriend. Robin had thought…

Well, she had thought.

But she’s seen her since then. It’s been five years, sure, and it’s never been the same as before, but they’re undoubtedly linked by the same group of people here today.

Fighters and survivors and family built from fire and blood. Of course Robin has seen her since the night ended with soft touches and quiet giggles and the morning began with tears and running and slamming doors.

Nancy hasn’t been calm like this in any of those instances, in any of those meetings.

She’s so close. So warm.

She asks Robin if the party is all that she’d hoped, if she’s enjoying her birthday, about her work as an EMT, the new gig she’s taken on training rookies, and the flowers budding in her garden.

It’s small talk, but it makes Robin’s heart race, because Nancy hasn’t asked about her in a long time. Not directly anyway. They don’t talk, not like they used to, because there are too many layers of complication between them now.

There’s the friendship they built in 1986 and the bond that only grew from that point forward, yes, but there’s also the way Robin has been desperately in love with Nancy for more of that time than she cares to admit and that they both know it.

Having sex five years ago was just the cresting of a long-coming breaking point, and this is the fallout. Or at least, it was until today.

Because Nancy asks about her life and she doesn’t shy away from sitting so close and she drinks her wine like nothing in the world is wrong and Robin is confused.

Confusion that is only compounded when she tries to reciprocate, asking, “and how are you? How is, um, how is…” and trailing off as her gaze lands subconsciously on Nancy’s hands. Nails cut short and that same knobby knuckle where she broke it in ‘86 and never properly set it and a conspicuous lack of rings.

Robin’s chest goes tight. She’s too old to feel such violent butterflies racing up her throat.

“He’s fine,” Nancy tells her simply. “Probably fuming over the pre-nup I made him sign right about now.”

It’s been a number of years since Robin was a babbling teenager with a crush on the girl who stood next to her in marching band. It’s been a number of years since she sat in the front seat of Steve’s BMW and lamented wanting to kiss a girl without being marked a pariah.

She thinks maybe that kid in her head never died, though. Not at twenty or thirty and not now at forty either, because something kicks to life in her gut with the realization that—

“You’re getting a divorce?”

Breathy and too hopeful for the topic at hand, Robin clears her throat, looks down at her glass and the drip of condensation around the curve of it.

“Sorry, I just—”

“I’m getting a divorce.”

“Okay,” Robin nods, says it again okay, okay, “I’m just, um, I’m censoring myself, sorry, give me a minute.”

And Nancy Wheeler laughs.

So much lightness to it, something so unbearably carefree, that Robin can’t help but look at her with all the depth of feeling she knows is terribly readable on her face.

Nancy laughs, leans forward in her chair to rest and elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. No ring. No ring. No ring.

“Do you remember what you said to me? When you were,” a breath, “when I…”

“When you were kicking me out of your house after we fucked?” Robin gets blunt when she’s nervous, but there’s humor to it years later that there couldn’t have been in the months she spent crying on Steve and Eddie’s couch about it back then.

Nancy presses her lips together as though forcing down something tremulous, as though recentering herself.

“You looked me right in the face and you told me,” she straightens her shoulders, “Nancy Wheeler, when are you going to stop living your life like survival was a punishment?”

Robin does remember that, but wouldn’t have had Nancy not brought it up. She’s spent a lot of energy on not thinking about that morning, about all the ways she’d fucked up any chance she had at having Nancy in any real capacity, even if she couldn’t have her.

Now, though, all of the sparking energy jumping off her skin sings in response to that day, to that fight, to everything they’ve been through since. All of her energy jolts in the space between them, lightning striking like second chances.

Robin breathes deep into her gut and lets it out slowly as her eyes rove across Nancy’s face. All that calm, all that certainty of having made a plan and watching it play out in front of her by way of Robin herself.

“Nancy Wheeler,” she breathes, “did you get a divorce for my birthday?”

Nancy beams, slow and languid, and leans in until they’re almost nose to nose. Wine on her breath and life in her eyes, Nancy gets close.

“No, that I got for me,” she says, hand coming up to cradle Robin’s jaw and causing a kick-beat in her chest, “but I’m all yours, honey.”

It’s Robin’s bed they’ll fall into at the end of the night this time, giggling and happy.

It’s Robin’s kitchen where they’ll have coffee and breakfast when the morning rolls around again.

No tears, no slamming doors.

“I need you to— Nance,” Robin’s eyes well up, bridge of her nose nudging against Nancy’s as she asks I need you to prove it’s real.

Nancy takes her face in both hands and consumes her with a devouring kiss.

It tastes a lot like self-forgiveness on everyone’s part.

#dot fic #dot post #ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #femslash week #stranger things femslash

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