#steve's flirting fails in the best way

[weird-an]

Steve: Lemme guess the color of your underwear..

Billy: This is about to blow your mind-

[steviewashere]

I kinda feel like Steve wasn't as popular as he's made out to be. Like, maybe he's got a bit of a reputation that proceeds him—ladies man, The Hair, and Steeevveee Harrington. He takes care of himself, takes care of his dates. The guys around him oversell his personality a lot, how many people he can get in bed with him, the way he can instantly charm a person.

But then you meet him and it's just.

This is the guy you're talking about?

The guy who forgets how to use his tongue sometimes and just does one of those little finger waves? The guy who, if he thinks you're not paying attention to him, will just stand there and make a bunch of goofy faces, lost in thought, muttering song lyrics under his breath? The guy who keeps making the most dorky references to music and movie culture—he quoted something from Star Trek on one of his dates. And the guy who will run into walls when trying to make a swift exit?

Dude is awkward. He is clammy. He is stuttering over his words and trying to cover it up with his pretty smile—which, yeah could be charming, but in his own special streak of charming. Every romantic gesture he pulls is more outlandish, garish, and brash than the last; he is fumbling matches for candles, though, and he is sticking himself in the thumb with the thorns on roses, he is spilling popcorn all over himself on movie dates, and he is tripping on his own feet while trying to carry a girl to his bed upstairs.

Every time a girl kisses his cheek, he's immediately flushing head to toe, smiling all crooked, eyes all soft. He almost forgets to kiss them back.

When he dates Eddie, though? Oh my god.

Eddie flirts with him and Steve literally squeaks. Eddie watches him while Steve is playing basketball, he fumbles the ball and falls onto his knees on the court. Eddie tucks hair behind Steve's ear, Steve is blurting out his entire hair care regime—all because Eddie murmured about how soft it was. Eddie rubs his back while they're cuddled on the couch, Steve gets a boner so fast that he nearly blacks out. Eddie makes them dinner once, tells Steve to just sit down at the table while ushering him out of the kitchen, and Steve is in such a daze of love that he runs into the doorjamb face first and breaks his nose.

When Eddie tells him he loves him? Steve literally screams and has to take a lap before saying it back.

Every time Steve flirts, he has to back track five steps. Every time he compliments Eddie, he has to clarify that it's a compliment because they all come out so aggressively to the point they sound like insults. He tries to quote Shakespeare and, sure it's a love quote, but it's from some incest scene and Eddie laughs before telling him what it really means.

I don't know. Steve just embarrasses himself a lot. Like he definitely has the capacity to sweep somebody off their feet, romance 'em or whatever. But when he's really, really in love with somebody (whether it be after a few dates with a girl, the person he's in love with is Nancy, or even Eddie)? Steve is not chill whatsoever.

Everything that rumors said were just complete lies. You wanna know who started them?

Tommy.

It was Tommy trying to cover for his best friend. Because he saw Steve smile at a girl once, flirt with her, get a date with her. But he had a piece of broccoli stuck between his two front teeth. He couldn't save the interaction even if he tried, Steve was too enamored to quit. The only saving grace Tommy could think of was sell Steve as this handsome, charming, romantic guy—even though the Steve he knew was dorky, a major geek in private, awkward as hell, and funny half the time (his jokes were very hit or miss).

(Also, imagine gay Tommy just trying to reason with himself that his crush—his best friend—is actually not the awkward guy he really is. And maybe he still likes Steve. But Jesus. That piece of broccoli was huge! How did Steve not feel it?)

Anyway. Cringe fail Steve is something very important to me.

[bleedingoptimism]

“I’m sorry Steve, I thought we were just having fun! I enjoyed you taking me out and paying for everything that’s all…” Is what Shelley said to him when Steve walked into the bar and saw her flirting with another guy. 

Obviously, he smiled and shook his head, said everything was okay, ‘Just a silly misunderstanding’ and left, ever so graceful. But the second he was outside he cursed, tried not to shed a tear, failed, and then started laughing. 

He probably looks like a mad man, or a drunk. But no, don’t worry people, he’s not drunk or crazy, he’s just really, really stupid. He thought Shelley really liked him, he thought they were dating. And Shelley just assumed he was just another playboy so she played him back. He’s not even mad at her. She didn't mean to hurt him. It’s not her fault Steve is just so easy to hurt. 

Sighing, he gets his phone out to get an uber and hugs himself even though it’s not really that cold outside, waiting for his car, already imagining the big, greasy burger he’s going to order when he gets home. He deserves it, okay?

The car that pulls out has definitely seen better days, but it’s clean and comfortable so Steve doesn’t think twice about getting in. He offers the driver a smile through the rearview mirror, sparing a moment to notice his eyes are big and dark, and they crinkle when he smiles back at him. 

Steve sits stiff and straight for a moment before realizing no one is there to judge him right now and he deflates, sighing again and letting himself collapse against the seat. Still hugging himself to feel any sort of comfort, he bumps his head against the window softly a couple of times. 

“Long night?” The driver asks him in a friendly manner.

Steve meets his eyes in the rearview again and shrugs, smiling back crookedly “Thought I should go home early since I already accomplished making an ass of myself for the night”

He checks the uber app for the driver’s name, doesn’t want to be rude by not remembering. ‘Eddie’ chuckles at Steve's statement.

“You did, huh? Well good job on getting it out of the way then,”

Steve chuckles back, “Yeah, I was actually thinking I deserve a treat”

He notices Eddie looking back at him a couple of times before breathing an interested, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “A huge cheesy burger or something” Wondering what Eddie was thinking he’d say.

Eddie laughs again, “Oh! Right of course” and just when he’s about to say something else his phone rings.

“Oh, sorry” Eddie murmurs, immediately hanging up on whoever is calling. 

“No worries,” Steve mumbles back, sitting up a little straighter again. 

“So, what’s your favorite dirty burger place?” Eddie asks him. 

Steve can tell he’s trying to distract him from the mood he entered the car with and he really appreciates it.

He sits forward and leans his forearms against the headrest of the passenger seat, “Oh, there’s so many, but…” from this angle, he can see Eddie’s face better, and he can’t help but think he’s got a really nice looking profile, long lashes, full lips, and the cutest nose he’s ever seen, “I think Benny’s the best one” he finishes.

Eddie pulls at a stop light and turns to look at him with a smile and he’s so much prettier than Steve first thought he involuntarily gasps. But thankfully Eddie is talking excitedly and doesn’t seem to notice.

“No way you know Benny’s?! Benny is my uncle! Well, he’s married to my uncle actually- you know what I mean but yeah, Benny’s is great!” 

It’s such a weird coincidence that it managed to take Steve out of his stupor and he’s suddenly just as excited as Eddie,

“Really? Oh my god, I’m so jealous right now, I wished I could live at Benny’s sometimes” 

Eddie laughs, and just when he opens his mouth to reply his phone rings again. This time he doesn’t immediately hang up and Steve sees the screen light up with the name “you deserve better” 

Ouch, he thinks, and his heartstrings tug for his cute, sweet, uber driver. Who offered him friendly conversation cause he noticed he was feeling down and has the most beautiful laugh. He doesn't really know why he feels so strongly about it, he doesn't even know Eddie… but he still feels the text is right. Whoever hurt him, Eddie deserved better.

“Hey,” He says softly when Eddie hangs up cursing.

Eddie sighs again, “I’m so sorry,” 

“Hey, no. It’s fine,” Steve replies, resisting the urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He figures, after the way his night started, he’s got nothing to lose so he says, “So much talk about Benny’s I feel like I need to go there right now.” 

Eddie let’s out a distracted “Huh?” and Steve soldiers on, “Wanna change the destination and join me? You can take me home after,”

He notices Eddie doing a double take and blushing, “Really? I- Am- I- okay” he stammers but Steve can’t really figure out why.

“Yeah, you know, that way you don’t lose time on the job and have another ride?” He finishes and Eddie laughs,

“Oh, right. Yeah That- makes sense”

They keep talking about their favorite things on the menu on the way there and soon they are sitting face to face in a booth at Benny’s.

What a pair they make, Steve in a three piece suit, jacket off, vest undone and shirt rolled up to his forearms. And Eddie with sweats and a hoodie. 

Eddie is even better looking in the shitty dinner light and the blush that adorns his cheeks ever since they came in makes Steve wanna kiss them to feel their warmth.

Benny himself comes to take their order, and Eddie gets up to hug him and introduces him to Steve. They already know each other, because Steve does come to the dinner often and Benny lets Eddie know that.

Eddie thinks it's hilarious that they both have been here so much and never saw each other before, but Steve can’t help to think it’s a shame.

“I actually would’ve loved to have met you sooner,” he tells Eddie at one point and watches curiously as Eddie’s blush turns a few shades darker.

As they eat, Steve tells Eddie about Shelley, about his hopes, about misreading the situation, about his shame. How he doesn’t even think he liked Shelley that much, but he just wanted to have something real. Eddie gets mad at him for blaming himself, tells him it wasn’t his fault, that he’s being too hard on himself. And it’s not a bad thing to consider but all Steve can think about is how cute Eddie looks when he’s mad on his behalf.

Eventually, Eddie tells Steve about whoever was calling him. 

“I met him at my last job. I thought he was so cool but turns out he was actually just cold,” Eddie shrugs, “We dated for like 6 months or something, not that long but, I was miserable the whole time and I didn’t even realize it was because of him.” 

Eddie’s hand is tearing up a paper napkin between them and Steve tentatively settles his hand over Eddie’s, who stops destroying the napkin and smiles gratefully at Steve, holding his hand back.

“The worst part is I didn’t even break up with him, he broke up with me,” Eddie chuckles self-deprecatingly, “But he still wanted to keep me around I guess… And I… didn’t want to feel lonely” 

They both stay quiet for a moment after that, and Steve stares at their hands joined over the greasy dinner table and thinks about loneliness, about how he doesn't feel it right now, with Eddie.

“So, what happened?” he asks after a bit.

“I did eventually realize he was the one making me feel like shit so I stopped seeing him but he didn’t appreciate my new sense of self-respect,” Eddie says lightly and Steve instinctively squeezes his hand protectively, which makes Eddie smile again, “I’m doing just fine now though, I told him to fuck off and got a new job. And it’s actually pretty good, ya know?”

Steve can’t help but smile back at Eddie’s cute expression, “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah, my own hours? Good money? Plus I’ve always liked driving around, it calms me. And I get to meet really interesting people…” he says, winking at Steve and making him chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad then. Proud of you for getting out of there,”

“Me too,” Eddie says and looks up as Benny walks over to them.

“Sorry to interrupt boys, but we are about to close for the night,” He says, stifling a yawn.

Steve looks surprised at his watch, it’s almost 2 A.M. He can’t believe he’s been sitting here with Eddie for hours when it only felt like a few minutes.

He offers to cover the bill but Benny fights him over it and says it’s his treat. And Eddie offers to take him home no charge. So they get in Eddie’s car again only this time Steve sits next to him instead of in the back and they talk about music on their way to his place while Steve changes the radio stations. Laughing, singing and joking around, it’s such a good time. It feels like they’ve been doing this forever, like they could do this…forever. But eventually they arrive at Steve’s building and suddenly Steve doesn’t want the night to end. 

He’s about to tell Eddie as much, maybe invite him inside, when his phone rings again, the ‘you deserve better’ staring at them. But Eddie immediately grabs his phone and hangs up, blocking the number after. 

“There, he can’t call me again,” he says with a sigh.

“Can I see your phone for a second?” Steve ventures, making a last second decision.

Eddie looks surprised but curious as he hands it over and Steve punches his phone in.

“If you ever feel like unblocking him, or calling him back… Why don’t you try calling me instead?” he says in a rush and then walks out of the car, not lingering to see Eddie’s reaction.

There’s always the positivity that he got things wrong again, got too invested too soon again and he doesn’t want to know tonight. He’ll deal with it later, if Eddie doesn't call.

🚗📱🍔💙

It takes only two days for Steve’s phone to ring, an unknown number flashing on his screen. He picks it up feeling a little out of breath for no reason at all.

“Hello?” 

“Steve?”

“Eddie, I”

“Wait- before you say anything I just want you to know that I didn’t call because I wanted to call him, or I was thinking about him. I called because I can’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to talk to you. Okay?”

“Eddie- yes! It’s more than okay, I- I was hoping you’d call”

fin 💙

☕🥐💕 coffee? oovoo javer?

[buckyalpine]

LMAOO OKAY IMAGINE 40s!BUCKY (like tfa stark expo version) MAGICALLY TELEPORTING TO MODERN DAY, and Sharon’s bitch ass is hanging all over him, flirting hardcore, and is absolutely thrilled bc he’s actually giving her some attention. BUT THEN HE SEES THE READER AND IS LIKE “oh wow who is THAT” and leaves her alone to go woo the gorgeous dame. I can picture her face getting all red and embarrassed and upset. And Sam and Nat and Tony are in the background giggling.

GOD I LOOOVEEE THISSSS 40's heart has my heart cause this blushing soldier would be such a perfect mix of devilishly handsome and adorably shy.

-

"Shit" Tony huffed watching his time portal experiment start up and fail for the fourth time in a row while Bruce continued to medal with the dials, resetting the machine once more. "Why does it keep doing that"

"Give it a secondary power source, there's not enough juice with the first one"

Tony nodded, rummaging through a pile of knick knacks on his desk, grabbing a vial and adding it to the generator.

"Alright, set the timer to 19:00 hours and 40 in the past. Let's see if we can just travel to yesterday first before messing with going back years" He snorted, as Bruce punched in the time before hitting the start up button. The machine started to rumble before growing hot, the dials and buttons spinning and clicking on its own, parts starting to pop off.

"Oh shit!" Tony ducked under the table, shielding himself from getting knocked out as the portal grew more powerful, a force filed growing, knocking down things around the lab.

"What the hell did you use as a power source?!" Bruce yelled over the high pitched whizz the machine started to make, blinding light filling the room before disappearing, leaving a cloud of smoke in its place.

"I don't know, I just grabbed something that look like it'd fit" Toy shrugged between coughs as the smoke dissipated, squinting when he realized the platform wasn't empty.

Someone was standing there.

"What the hell..."

Blinking with bright blue eyes was a young soldier, dressed in a fresh, clean and pressed uniform, looking like a lost puppy while Tony and Bruce blinked in both confusion and amusement.

"Banner what the hell did you do with the timer?!"

"You're vial set everything into over drive, it must've recalibrated to 1940 instead of a couple of hours ago!" Bruce threw his hands up while the younger version of Bucky stared at the lab with child like wonder, his eyes twinkling as if it were Christmas day.

"Holy shit..." He breathed out seeing the vast technology, his mind still reeling over what was happening. One minute, he was on his way to see Steve and take some girls dancing and next thing he knew, he was sucked through a loop.

"Dear God-alright, uh-Barnes?" Tony waved the soldier over, mentally debating on what to tell him.

"Mr. Stark? It's-it's an honor, sir" Bucky shook Tony's hand before standing tall before him with his back straight, ever the bright eyed Sargent. Tony scratched his head before letting him take a seat, figuring honesty was the best police.

"Sargent. This may take a while"

-

Bucky understood bits and pieces of what Tony explained to him while getting a tour of the compound, the common room being the last place for him to check out. The team alternated between greeting and secretly cooing over the adorable young Bucky while also simultaneously laughing at Tony. At the very least, the billionaire was lucky the actual Bucky was away on a mission with you and Steve; there was only so much he could handle in a day. The soldier decided to hang back in the living room with the others, happily chatting away with Sam and Nat.

Then there was Sharon

"Hey Soldier" She winked, giving him a smirk causing the young Bucky to blush, throwing her a flirty smile right back.

"Nice to meet ya' doll" Bucky drawled out making her giggle, his lip catching between his teeth when she flipped her hair back.

"Aren't you sweet" She whispered, her heart beating a little faster when he moved towards her, his sweet baby blues gazing down at her intently. She'd tried a million times to get Bucky's attention before and he didn't look at her twice. She wasn't about to lose her chance with the new one.

"Look whose talking" Bucky chuckled back, his naturally flirty nature taking over with ease, after all it would be rude for him to ignore her.

"Someone's gotta protect him from this randy she goat" Sam whispered while Nat snorted, watching the two of them continuing to flirt, Sharon's hands toying with the buttons on Bucky's uniform, making her way up to brush his collar.

There was no way she was going to just let the gorgeous soldier go.

The machine wasn't fixed any time soon so Bucky was given a room to stay in. He loved the feeling of modern day sweats, looking cute as ever in some comfy joggers and a cotton tshirt, his fluffy cropped hair always neatly brushed and face shaven.

He was a Sargent after all. He always looked his best, even in lounge clothing.

There hadn't been a day where Sharon left Bucky alone. She clung onto his side, practically crawling up his leg day in and day out while the others side eyed the situation, keeping an eye out for the innocent Bucky.

"So, what's a soldier like you doin' without a girl, hm?" Sharon teased, pressing her hand to his chest, loving the way Bucky flirted back with her while the both of them sat in the common room with a movie playing in the background. Tony, Nat and Sam glanced at each other, quietly watching from their place in the kitchen while the blonde continued to giggle and blush, running her finger's through his hair.

"How do you keep your hair so soft, Sargent"

"Well, I- woah"

Sharon frowned when the soldier stopped talking half way after something- or someone- caught his attention. His eyes grew wide, a classic boyish smile appearing on his face when he saw the prettiest dame he'd ever laid his eyes on walk by the living room, making his heart flutter.

"who was THAT" Bucky stared in awe, seeing her stretch her arms up, still in some type of modern tactical suit, rubbing sleep from her eyes and yet she was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

"Uh-excuse me" Sharon's face twisted watching Bucky stare are you like a love struck puppy, nearly jumping over the sofa so he could run and talk to you. He didn't take his eyes off you, practically swooning when he saw you pack away the gun from you holster.

"Huh-yeah, sorry-" Bucky mumbled, still focused on you, unbothered by the way Sharon's face was now red with embarrassment, seething at what he was doing.

"Look at this guy, he's not even hiding the fact that he's staring at y/n" Sam snorted while Tony and Nat snickered, watching the young Bucky watch you with heart eyes, "Aw man, he's got it bad"

"Hey y/n, looks like someone's got a little crush on you" Nat whispered, discreetly nodding to the living room. You nearly squeaked in surprise, seeing a very very young version of your boyfriend sitting on the couch, taking peeks over at you whilst ignoring the blonde who was still fighting for his attention.

"Tony, you did this, didn't you" You sighed while Tony smiled proudly, now fully invested in how all this was going to play out.

"I'll explain later. Go wash and change and you can talk to him"

As soon as you were out of the kitchen, Bucky scrambled to the group, cheeks tinted pink, bashful as ever, looking at the three smirking faces, wiggling their eyebrows at him.

"See something you like, soldier?" Nat prodded while Bucky nearly giggled, nodding.

"Who was that" He asked in earnest, truly curious to at least get your name.

"That would be y/n. I'll introduce you once she's back down. You might be her type, y'know" Sam winked knowing damn well he was your type. After all you were technically already dating. Bucky bounced on his heels, waiting patiently while Sharon huffed, refusing to move from her spot on the couch. You made your way back down after a shower to see an exited Sam and a shy Bucky along with a smug Tony and Nat.

"Y/n, meet young Buck" Sam smiled while you held your hand out, swooning at the way he shook it gently, throwing you smile few got to see, one he had when he got butterflies in his belly.

"Nice to meet you Sarge"

"Pleasures all mine, angel" Bucky whispered, leading you off to the living room to talk to you more, offering you a seat, wondering if you wanted anything to snack on or drink, forgetting Sharon's existence entirely. Sharon nearly opened her mouth to say something, immediately shutting it with a satisfied smirk seeing the other Bucky walk in followed by Steve. Hopefully he'd see his girlfriend was a cheating whore, flirting with someone else even if it was him from the past. Her brain wracked itself in hopes that this would all crash and burn while Bucky frowned the closer he got.

"What the fuck Stark" Bucky scrunched his face walking in on some punk flirting with his girl, only to realize said punk was a younger version of him.

"Relax, I'll fuse you two together" Tony shrugged while Bucky's face twisted again, grumbling when his younger self kissed you hand again, pulling you up for a dance while fumbling with a phone he'd just managed to figure out.

"They're cute" Steve grinned, nudging Bucky playfully while Bucky rolled his eyes, smiling to himself a little while later when you caught his eyes, throwing him a wink. You laid your head against the young soldiers chest while he swayed with you, unaware that he was being watched by everyone else, in his own world with just you in it.

"You better fuse us together" Bucky hissed, narrowing his eyes when you giggled at something that was whispered in you ear; Tony snorted with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Why Barnes, scared of a little competition?"

Before Bucky could retort, Sharon was up and walking with purpose, stalking right towards Bucky.

"Y'know they're both flirting hard, right? Aren't you two dating?"

Bucky wordlessly stared at her while the others looked at her with confusion, the desperation becoming embarrassing.

"Sharon, shut up" Sam deadpanned while her mouth gaped open and shut before storming off.

"Back to what I was saying. Scared, Barnes?"

"You should be the scared one" Bucky sassed back, knowing exactly what his younger self was capable of; he knew that innocent boyish charm did wonders when it needed to. That being said, even his past self recognized real love, gravitating towards his one true soul mate after just seeing her once.

He watched the two of you continue to dance and whisper, the young soldier tipping your chin up, eyes flicking to your lips, his soft pouty pink lips so close to yours, leaning down so he could press a kiss so sweet-

"Alright that's it, punk get your hands off her!"

[ataliagold]

Knocking Me Out With Those American Thighs

For @astrangersummer week 1 prompt 'short shorts'. Title from Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (pre-relationship)

Rating: Teen (swearing)

W/C - 848

Tags: Post Season 4 Volume 2, Eddie Munson Lives, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, flirting, Steve Harrington wears short shorts, summer, pool party, sun bathing, water balloons, Steve Harrington's thighs, Eddie Munson is suffering

Summary: Steve sunbathes in the tiniest shorts Hawkins has ever seen. Eddie tries and fails to keep his cool.

___

Eddie was suffering.

Not just from the heat of the midday sun baking him alive, or from the way his hair was practically glued to his sweat-slick neck.

No, the worst of his suffering was caused by Steve Harrington’s thighs.

They were going to kill him.

Eddie couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t, he just had to keep glancing over at where the other boy was lying in the grass, skin bare except for the tiniest pair of shorts Eddie had ever seen. They barely covered the top half of his thighs for fuck’s sake, what was even the point in them…

The guy’s naked chest and torso had already done a number on Eddie. But when Steve had laid down, stretched out to sunbathe in his backyard, those already-skimpy shorts had ridden up even higher, revealing a slightly paler strip of skin stretched tight over lean muscle and Eddie had had to sit on his damn hands to stop himself from reaching out and just touching…

A water balloon smacked into the side of Eddie’s face, momentarily dragging his attention away from Steve’s hairy thighs.

Luckily for Dustin, who was standing with his hands on his hips nearby and rolling his eyes at Eddie, the balloon hadn’t burst. If it had, Eddie might’ve strangled the kid himself.

“Hey, we said no water balloons near us!” Robin grumbled, sitting up to glare at the kid.

“I called your name three times,” Dustin complained to Eddie. “Not my fault you were too busy staring at Steve.”

Eddie’s eyes darted sideways, sensing movement from Steve. The boy cracked open an eye to give Eddie a brief glance, then closed it again, the tiniest smirk spreading across his face.

“I was not, you little shrimp,” Eddie snapped. “Now what do you want?”

“Come throw the rings into the pool for me? Lucas and Mike keep grabbing them before I can reach them, and I want to try and dive for them.”

Eddie snorted. “What are you, a fucking dolphin?”

“Language,” Steve mumbled lazily, not opening his eyes.

“Apologies, my liege, I’ll try to keep my language appropriate around your little charges.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie stood, wincing a little as he reached up to touch his rapidly reddening shoulders. Unlike Steve, he wasn’t gifted with a natural golden glow to his skin. He was pasty, usually sheet-white.

And now, he was steadily burning to a crisp.

Grumbling under his breath, Eddie stole one last look at the prone Steve, let his eyes run over his form for as long as he thought he could get away with. He could wax poetry about his thighs, about his torso, about the moles dotting his chest and stomach like constellations…

“Eddie?”

Fuck.

“Yeah, Steve?” His response came out as almost a squeak.

“You’re burnt. Once you’re finished entertaining Dustin, come back and get some sunblock on, I’ll help with your shoulders.”

Eddie swallowed thickly. Because that meant Steve would have his hands on him, all sun-warm as he spread sunblock across Eddie’s sensitive skin…

Steve opened his eyes then, rolling over to face Eddie and propping his head up on his hand with his elbow bent.

“And then after that, you can do my back.”

He fucking winked.

Eddie backpeddled, nodding quickly then turning around and doing his best to not trip over his feet as he scrambled after Dustin.

“Dude, you’re the least subtle person I’ve ever seen,” Dustin whispered to him as they walked towards the pool.

“Shut up.”

Eddie threw the rings half-heartedly into the pool, Dustin diving for them in a…not so impressive display of athleticism, but he would emerge eventually and toss the colourful rings back at Eddie, the other kids watching on.

As it tended to do, Eddie’s attention drifted back to Steve.

He was up now, chasing Robin around in the grass with the still-intact water balloon in hand. Robin was shrieking and trying to slap at him with her book, sunglasses flying from her hair. Steve hurled the water balloon, but it slapped against Robin’s back and plopped to the ground without breaking again.

Lightning quick, Robin picked it up and threw it hard back at Steve.

It smacked onto Steve’s chest and burst.

Eddie’s wide eyes drifted down.

Steve’s tiny shorts were now soaked, Robin doubled over with laughter as the water trickled down his torso and collected at the waistband.

Eddie’s gaze followed the path of water through Steve’s chest hair, down the soft planes of his stomach and small swell of his abdominal muscles, tracking past the healing scars on his sides…

When he looked up again, Steve’s eyes were on him.

Just as Eddie was trying to craft an excuse as to why he was openly ogling the guy again, Steve swiped the bottle of sunblock from the grass, holding it up with a little wiggle to Eddie, a slow grin spreading across his face.

Eddie dropped Dustin’s rings into the water without looking, ignoring the kid’s protests, and strode towards Steve.

The other boy’s smile spread wider, his eyes twinkling.

Eddie was fucked.

___

[hungharrington]

 ☁ — sweet talk !

summary: you're interested in your boyfriend's history- well, more like what he used to do that made the stories about king steve in bed spread like wildfire during school. you find out for yourself. fem!reader. 2k. minors DNI

Look, you love your regular ol’ Steve. Stevie. Steeb. He’s a sweetheart through and through — holds the door for you, holds your hand, gives kisses on your cheek, in your hair.

He’s a generous lover. Knows each little thing that makes you tick and just gives and gives to you. Answers your whimpers for more with a deeper grind of his hips, holds your hand as he buries his face between your thighs. He’s a giver.

But a small part of you, just a small part, has always wondered about King Steve.

You don’t want his sneering jabs and aloof disinterest — no, that’s all very much better off left in the past.

But the stories, the stories of how he left girls’ heads spinning, of the filthy fucks at bathrooms, all teasing and cocky King Steve, panty dropper.

You’re just a little bit— alright, marginally interested. Maybe decently interested.

So, you ask. It’s one of those games Steve likes to play sometimes at parties, the two of you begin as though you’re strangers. You’ll act coy, leaned against a wall with a low-cut shirt and a tight skirt and Steve puts on the moves.

It’s always the same stuff and it always makes you nervously giggle. A hand rested above your head against the wall so he can lean in low, whisper in your ear, something cheesy like, “I saw you from across the room and thought you looked so sexy,” that never fails to make you both break, spilling into laughter.

It’s one of the song and dances you two do, flirting like it’s your first time time meeting to keep things fresh. But tonight, when he cages you against the kitchen counter, hands planted on either side and he’s leaning in close, showering you compliments— you ask.

Your fingers tuck into his collar, keep him close, keep his lips ghosting the shell of your ear and whisper to him. “And what would King Steve say?”

You turn, just enough to see his face. The flush that climbs his cheeks as he considers it is glorious to see, but too his credit, he remains cool.

Steve’s eyes darken, rake over your expression and finds what he’s searching for. One of the hands on the counter shifts to cup your waist, dragging his thumb over the exposed skin tantalisingly.

“He would ask what colour your panties are,” Steve murmurs in your ear, voice somehow lower than before. The gravel in his tone shoots straight to your core. “And then ask you to prove it, in the bathroom.”

Before you even get a moment, his thumb dips into the waistband of your skirt, just an inch — and you suck in a breath instinctively. Steve chuckles and it has a condescending lilt to it. You’re nearly ashamed of how much it turns you on.

“So,” you reply, more breathy than intended. “Are you gonna take me to the bathroom then?”

Steve’s eyes light up and a pleased smirk plays on his lips — his hands wandering further from your waist, over your ass, toying with the edge of your skirt.

“Pretty girl like you?” He hums, the air of cockiness you know is King Steve beginning to take over. “No way, baby. I’d have you in the car.”

The way he says it, like he knows he’s already got you wrapped around his finger has heat crawling in your tummy, thighs squirming just a bit. The party is all but abandoned and you have to try your best to not look too eager on your way out. Steve’s wandering hand, which follows a line straight from your tummy down your thigh, doesn’t help in the least.

His hand is glued to your thigh, the entire drive home, the sweet caress of his thumb driving you crazy. Worse, Steve knows it — he takes his eyes off the empty road to watch your expression when he grazes closer to your hot cunt. Laughs a bit at the flutter of your lashes, the shuddering breath you take.

“Y’gonna let me fuck you properly when we back?” He asks, all smug, rolling his head in your direction. He doesn’t even give you time to respond, not that you can think of words at the moment.

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” He hums, his other hand draped lazily over the wheel. He squeezes your thigh, some murmur of ‘being good’ you can’t quite catch.

Despite his cool composure, you can the effect this whole act is having on him. His hips shift upwards for a moment, adjusting himself and clearing his throat. It thrills you more to know you’re both getting off on it.

You don’t make it inside once Steve kills the car’s ignition, parked in the shadow of his house. It’s dark out, a few streetlights here and there, but just light enough to see Steve. He smiles at the way you turn to him, looking for what’s happening next.

He puts his seat back just a bit, backing away from the wheel, and beckons you over. It’s an awkward clamber and when your knee knocks the gear stick and you whisper an “Ow”, only then does Steve break character for a moment.

“Shit, honey, y’alright?” He asks, pulling you into his lap, one hand travelling to your knee instantly. He gives a comforting rub. Concern knits his brows together. It hurts, but barely. You smirk and wind you arms around his neck.

“Wow, who knew King Steve was such a sweetheart.” You tease. You sink down, settling atop his thighs, and move to grind down against him but Steve’s hands are faster. His hands grip your hips, holding them tight in place, and you whine in retaliation before you think.

Steve huffs that cocky laugh, squeezes the flesh of your thighs, pawing back to grab at your ass. “Too needy, aren’t you? You’ll just have to wait, mhm.”

Then his lips are on your skin, on your neck, sucking and scraping. Steve knows all your sensitive spots, the way to play with your lobe to make you slick and whimper aloud. He’s merciless, nibbles and licks that make your tummy burn tighter and hotter — your hips move against his hold automatically, beginning to get desperate for friction.

“Stevie…” You rasp after a couple minutes. The air is just your heavy pants, Steve’s fervent motions, the sound of his hands scraping across the fabric of your clothes. His hands cup your ass, move to under your thighs, and he curls his fingers around the edge of your skirt and tugs it up just a bit.

“I know, baby.” He coos against your skin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You groan aloud softly, all his words travelling right to your cunt with a throb. You nod instantly, hoping, praying he’ll give you more. That he’ll let you kiss him.

“Let me have a kiss,” You pout, fingers curling into his hair, ready to tug his face up. Steve smiles at your words, despite his act, but he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t even move his face out. Just mumbles, “Nuh uh, baby. Not yet.” against your neck, breath hot, just to draw it all out.

While you still have a single coherent thought, you consider this the main difference between your Steve and this King Steve. King Steve is a fucking tease.

Your hips shift again, feeling his hardness beneath you. The desperation for some relief is building but Steve’s hands are already firm, holding you in place. He pulls back this time and fuck, if it isn’t a beautiful sight.

Lips pink and sheened with spit, cheeks a tad pink, eyes half-lidded in his lazy motions.

“Baby,” he begins, an annoyed drawl to his voice. “I’m taking care of you, yeah? Wait your turn.”

And before there room for protest, he’s back on you, lips pulling out every single sound from you he can. His hands move up to grope at your boobs, his fingers pinching at your nipples to make you whimper, then massaging it into pleasure to make you sigh. Your neck must be littered in hickies by this point.

It’s heaven. It’s torture. You grip his hair tighter as he works at a spot below your ear that forces little mewls out your throat and you try to contain your hips.

As Steve’s hands work downward, tracing the crease of your thighs inwards, you shudder and lean forward into him. Your forehead presses against his shoulder, still exposing your neck, and you can’t help how good it feels, you go a bit slack. Steve notices in a moment.

“Mmm, there you go.” He hums, voice low and still coated in smugness. “That’s it, just like that, huh?”

The dirty talk is making your head spin, making your cunt throb in want, your nipples tighten. You know the moment Steve’s fingers delve under your skirt, he’ll find a wet patch of slick.

His hands, however teasing, don’t venture under your skirt — and instead, he grips your hips again. This time, he pulls you closer and down, grinding up against at the same time. The pleasure burns hot and you moan lightly, fingers clenching in Steve’s hair and you find yourself chasing another grind instantly.

Steve doesn’t let you, hips still holding you in place. He sets the pace, a slow back and forth grind that pulls filthy noises from you. “That’s it, huh baby? That’s what you need, isn’t it? Taking what I give you, so good.”

His low voice, dripping in smugness, makes it hotter. Just a little mean. You force yourself to tug your head up, wanting more friction against him.

Despite the hardness in his jeans giving him away, he’s the most collected you’ve ever seen him for the situation. Eyes half-lidded, pink lips curled into a smirk, like he’s just observing you, not even partaking.

It’s all apart of King Steve; he gets you all hot and bothered, chest heaving and nails digging into his skin, while he looks cool as a cucumber. You let out a pathetic sounding noise, hips bucking against his hold.

“Oh, baby,” he crows, all faux-sympathetic, like he’s not grinding back up at you in that moment to make you mewl. Finally, one of his hands shift, pushing the fabric of your skirt up you thighs. Steve’s eyes gleam at the sight- sticky panties that are every bit of evidence of your arousal.

“Look at you,” He murmurs. You fight back every noise building in your throat, but they melt out when his thumb comes down to rub you through your panties. It’s a soft touch, a gentle stroke that’s nowhere near enough for you. Definitely on purpose.

You whine, arching against him and try to press forward, asking silently for more, more more. To your surprise, Steve doesn’t tease you, doesn’t draw this part out. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing firm circles that he knows makes you fall apart — and your resounding moan is much louder than you’re expecting, barely managing to muffle it into his shoulder.

Steve chuckles at it, doesn’t let up his pace, adoring how your hips twitch against his touch — you want more and yet, this feels like so much. You feel delirious, feel flushed in every part of your body, feel your hole clench around nothing and whine aloud because of it.

“Too much f’you?” He asks cockily. “We haven’t even made it inside yet, baby. How are you gonna handle it then, hmm?”

How indeed.

now with a part two here.

[moonpascaltoo]

Fic Recs (steve harrington)

just some of my favorite one-shots or series i’ve read on ao3 and few from tumblr. all works ranging from 1.5k to 30k+ i believe. 18+ readers!

some have a tumblr that i tagged, but others i couldn’t find . i am doing this on mobile which is a bit difficult haha! i read these all (except 2) on ao3 so the links will be ao3. i know some are here on tumblr but i didn’t realize till after reading and making this! <3

steve harrington

come home by @stevie-petey <3💕

-"come home to me, okay?"

"always," steve promises

in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington.

(a stranger things rewrite).

dancing with our hands tied by @andvys

-You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

paint me red by eddiemunsons ao3

-You're one of Vickie's best friends. Her girlfriend, Robin, is in need of a distraction for her best friend, Steve Harrington, who you vaguely remember from school. Which is where you come in.

i’m your idiot by thebestandworstdayofjune ao3 @thebestandworstdayofjune

-Steve Harrington has a way of worming himself into your heart, and social situations you had done your best to exclude him from.

small hands, big heart by finalgirlharrington ao3 @sexybabystevie

-Steve Harrington has a massive crush on you, but his recent lack of luck in the romantic sense has him stuck on how to make a move. Plus, something about you makes him nervous in a way he's never been – in a way he likes. His simplest solution? Flirting via the old 'comparing hand sizes' method.

promise by Harley_Honey_Quinn ao3

-Reader learns about Steve's feelings thanks to some Russian truth serum.

kiss me by @corrodedseraphine

-Your friend is desperately trying to find a person who will give him something more. Wanting to feel what it's like to be loved again and after many failed dates he gets the idea that it's time to go back to King Steve's famous tactics. Telling him that it's not the best idea gets you involved in a deal where you have to help him get another girl. Will helping the boy you're in love with turn out to be a good idea? Probably not.

every rose has its thorn by @corrodedseraphine

-Christmas is coming to Hawkins. It is a time of joy and forgiveness. It turns out that your sister's best friend is looking for a new place to live, and you happen to have a spare room in the apartment. It wouldn't be a problem if that friend wasn't Steve Harrington. A man whom the more you try to avoid even more often comes back like a boomerang.

hearts on the telephone line by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-You thought Steve was okay dealing with a long-distance relationship after you moved for an exciting internship in New York. But you were proven so wrong when your boyfriend finally poured his feelings over the phone. Because distance wasn't making his heart grow fonder, it was breaking it.

competitively stupid by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

perfect blend by Your_Writer ao3

-No one likes their summer job. Working at a coffee shop was sticky, exhausting, and overall boring. In fact, the highlight of your day was the charming, gentle eyed sailor scooping USS Butterscotch just across the way.

the things we don’t say by rdrickheffley ao3

-Steve Harrington once was the bane of Y/n's existence. He had always been an arrogant asshole and a terrible kisser. She never understood how others fell for the boy's eye-roll worthy charm. Now it seems like he will do anything to prove her wrong about anything.

next time? by rdrickheffley ao3

-Three instances where Steve and reader find themselves in intimate situations.

candyfloss and confessions by ACourtofSnakesandStars ao3

-You’ve been in love with Steve Harrington for years, like every cliche come to life. You’ve battled monsters, found friends within kids with superpowers, and you even managed to graduate. Yet the one thing you’ve never been able to do, is tell Steve how you feel. But maybe you don’t need to wait any longer.

a night to remember by RaeWrites94 ao3

-Steve has to attend his 10 year high school reunion and somehow manages to convince you to go as his date and his fake girlfriend. You've had feelings for him for a long time, but figure, why not? You could probably survive an evening of pretending he liked you back and come out unscathed. Right?

with bated breath by brianmay ao3

-Rumors fly after you attend Steve Harrington’s party one weekend in September. Thinking they were his doing, you do everything in your power to avoid him, which proves easier said than done.

cross my heart (and hope to die) by @talesofesther

-Every time Steve gets hurt, you're there to help pick up the pieces; you just weren't expecting him to fall for you in the process.

tales of a love between the lines by @talesofesther

-Sometimes the thing we want most is right in front of us, and Steve might be just that for you; all you have to do is see what he’s been showing you for a long time.

love is easy by seidenbros ao3

-The day you wrote I love you on a post-it note before you'd said the words out loud, and it's the best note Steve ever got.

everything means nothing if i can’t have you by iridescentpetrichor ao3

-Steve and Y/N go on a double date to impress the other one, but it's only so long until the tension between the two breaks.

you’re not by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-The year is 1985, you're on a school field trip to cheer on Hawkins High at the championship game before spring break. When the game doesn't pan out as expected, you're even more surprised to discover the one and only Steve Harrington in only his underwear at your hotel room after being locked out by his teammates. What happens when the two of you have a little heart to heart?

last christmas by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-You and Steve had always been childhood friends-and remained that way. As Steve ping-pongs around in his relationship status, you have a hard time keeping your feelings to himself as Nancy surrounds his entire world. What Steve doesn't know is his relationship to Nancy may end your own with Steve.

the scoundrel and the princess by @mrshipsmcgee

-after an awkward run in with Tommy Hagan, Steve Harrington is invited to an awful party where he meets a beautiful stranger.

cling by aloevera

-For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much.

[acowardinmordor]

So you know how lots of kids get dumped into foster care when their parents are either not around or deemed unfit? And you know how lots of religious groups and religious get approved as foster homes despite being cruel? And you know how the Midwest of America is/was super not great for anyone queer in the 80s? And how sometimes if people couldn’t get store bought conversion therapy, homemade was fine?

Before Wayne finds out that his brother and sister in law have lost custody of their kid, before he raises hell and rips up the system to find him, Eddie goes into the system for a few years.

After Wayne finds him, he immediately rebels against all the things they insisted he do. He listens to satanic music and he finds dungeons and dragons and becomes as much of a freak as possible. Because those are the pieces he feels safe reaching for. That’s the stuff they lectured about and reminded all the kids not to touch. That’s what’s safe.

The stuff they really wanted to crush down and smother is too broken for Eddie to rebel against. Not right away. Not a few years later when he starts to think about it more. Not when he tries to like girls his junior year and fails at it.

The things they did to him when he was a kid and gave them the slightest indication he might be queer are too deep in his bones.

Even when Steve comes out, and Robin and Will. Even when they’re supported and loved, even then, he can’t break that hold. He doesn’t repeat the words that echo in his memories, he knows it would hurt his friends. He isn’t unsupportive, but he can’t even think about himself that way without feeling sick.

And maybe Robin and Steve aren’t paragons of queer inclusion and are actually sharp about. Because it’s so obvious to them that Eddie is gay. He flirts with Steve constantly and he has never stared at women or girls, no matter how hot they’re considered or how topless they are. They’re confident. So confident they kinda pressure him. It’s with the best of intentions, since they both felt so much better about themselves after coming out and finding allies.

They know Eddie was in the foster system for a little while, and that Eddie hated them, but to Eddie, they didn’t do anything beyond the normal scale of shitty guardians. He doesn’t think of it as conversion therapy. To be honest, it wasn’t. It was Aversion therapy. He never really got a chance to recognize anything about himself before they started grinding that identity into dust.

It comes to a head when they’re all a little crossfaded and hanging out at Steve’s. Nancy, Jon and Argyle are there too, everyone laughing teasing each other.

Eddie always sits next to Steve and he always leans close when he teases, when he jokes, when he flirts. It’s so so obvious to everyone, and Steve knows everybody in the room is some kind of queer. It’s safe. He knows it’s safe.

Steve closes the distance, kisses Eddie. It’s a question and an invitation. Do you want this too? Do you like me? Can I kiss you again? Longer? Harder? It lasts a short few seconds.

Eddie shoves him away, hesitates, and then breaks Steve’s nose. He’s out the door and gone before the others have gotten past their initial wtf reaction.

The only reason Eddie is still in town the next morning is because Wayne was home when Eddie got there. He got a fragment of an explanation, and stole the keys to Eddie’s van when he passed out after a panic attack and breakdown.

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 2-The Chaos Theory.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn/friends to lovers.

Summary—Reader gets a taste of the chaos that comes with the boys of Apartment 406D, and they offer her the solution to her problems.

Warnings/Extras—Strong language, bad parents, bugs, drinking and smoking, brief bar fight and mild violence. Drunk people being dumb. Steve and Reader shamelessly flirting. Eddie’s his weirdo self (we love him though). MDNI, 18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The smell of bacon mixes with the faint drift of three separate colonges, wafting through the apartment. I sit up out of my brother’s bed, feeling guilty that I took his bed and he slept on the couch. At the foot of the bed, a pair of fuzzy pink sweats and a matching sweater sit folded neatly. They’re clothes from my closet back at the Dorm, and I can tell by the meticulous fold that it’s my brother’s doing. I’m questioning his methods, wondering if he’s secretly been able to teleport this whole time, when a familiar feminine laugh echos down the hallway.

I quickly change and tie my hair up, practically sprinting down the hallway to the kitchen.

Daizy sits at the bar counter, coffee mug in hand, chatting it up with the boys. Steve cooks breakfast while Ben sits shoulder-to-shoulder with Daizy, working on his laptop. Eddie is in the living room, cleaning up beer cans and pizza boxes from after I went to bed last night.

“Bug! How dare you not call me last night?!” Daizy perks up.

I shudder. “I thought we agreed to let that nickname die,” I complain. “How’d you even find out I was here?”

“That nickname dies with me. And I called her,” Ben says casually, not looking up from the screen.

I shove him a bit but he is unwavering. I take a seat next to him.

“Bug, huh?” A sly smile cracks Steve’s features as he flips a sunny-side-up egg onto a plate, pushing it across the counter over to me. Our eyes meet and my face grows hot. I take the plate from him, staring down at it, and I wonder how he knew I’ll only eat my eggs sunny-side-up.

Maybe he’s a witch. It’d explain why he’s so pretty.

“She hates bugs, loathes them,” Daizy teases. “Been that way since birth,”

Daizy and I are three months, eighteen days, four hours and fifty-three seconds apart. Our moms are—were—best friends since high school, all the way up until her mom passed away two years ago from breast cancer. It was terminal by the time they found it. It must’ve unlocked a part of Daizy’s brain I suppose was hidden all this time, because since her mother’s passing she’s been to the doctor for ‘precautionary checks’ every Monday, without fail. She’s obsessed with it, to the point she ceases to function right for the rest of the week if she misses her appointment. Her biggest fear used to be deep water, but I don’t think it is anymore.

Daizy and my brother swear up and down that I’ve been scared of bugs since I could walk, but I swear I don’t remember being afraid of them until I accidentally stomped on a fire-ant hill when I was 5. They were everywhere, in my hair and on my eyelashes. I could see them, red blobs with antennas and six—disgusting—little legs, clouding my vision. I’d had itty-bitty bites that stung like hell for weeks all over my body, and my vendetta against ants specifically was forged during that time.

“How’d you get my clothes?” I ask Daizy because, let’s be honest, it was most definitely her that pulled off the heist. She’s like some sort of criminal mastermind.

“Got your roommate’s car towed then snuck in while she was distracted,” she tells me casually, chewing on some bacon.

Ben and I don’t flinch at Daizy’s usual temperament, but Steve’s eyebrows raise in a dumbfounded expression.

Eddie laughs from the living room. “I like her.”

“Where are you gonna go? Obviously not back to the Dorms, placements over,” Daizy recalls how I’d just barely cut it for getting placed with a roommate, because I didn’t find out I’d been accepted until a few weeks ago.

I shrug. “I’ll get an apartment nearby. Cut school down to part time so I can work enough to afford it,” It sounds so easy in theory; better said than done.

“You are not sacrificing school. No way,” Ben’s voice is raised, agitated. We all turn to look at him. He rubs his temples. “I watched you spend most your life trying to get into a school like this. I can’t let you put it on the back burner now. Academics first,”

“Okay Dad,” I scoff, but as I look up at him, I realize how much he really does resemble our father. He’s got his nose and the way it flares when he’s upset, the same eyes that wrinkle in the corners because he’s always squinting in thought. Most of all, he’s got that same perpetual look on his face: disapproval, disappointment.

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

His resolve fumbles a bit. He peeks at Steve through his lashes, whom simply shrugs and vaguely gestures to Daizy and I. I furrow my brows as they exchange some sort of bizarre telepathic communication, until my brother speaks. “I—we—will figure it out. For now I’ve rented a storage unit for your stuff. Pest control’s gonna come by tomorrow and bomb it for bugs,” he reaches into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a metal ring with three keys on it.

“More moving, just how I wanted to spend my weekend,” Daizy half-heartedly jokes.

“Shop’s closed today. I’ll help,” Eddie offers, joining us in the kitchen. He snags a strip of bacon off of Steve’s plate, earning him a mild-tempered grunt.

Ben gives Eddie a foreboding glare. “Behave yourself, Munson,”

He shrugs. “Don’t I always?” He winks at me, and I’m positive it’s mostly to piss off my brother.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Steve announces, sliding his plate to Eddie before moving to grab his coat from the rack by the door. I find myself wondering what someone like him does for work. I wrack my brain, then wrack and wrack some more. Then I question why I even care so much.

“Hey, I’ll be down after work for a drink. I need to talk to you about something,”

They make eye contact and, there they go with that wordless conversation. It freaks me out but I try to disregard it, as it’s none of my business. Though I am morbidly curious.

Ben also throws on his coat and grabs his briefcase. I know he works for a local law firm as a pre-law intern. A cushy job with across the board benefits, tuition assistance and a generous salary. Some call it luck but I see it for what it is; that he worked his ass off for that job. I remember when he’d call me every night after his interview, anxiously awaiting their response. That was two years ago, and now he’s only a year away from taking the bar and becoming a practicing lawyer.

“Edward, listen to me,” Ben instructs, pointing at Eddie as he inhales his breakfast. He makes a Hmph? Noise, half paying attention. “Wear plastic around your feet. Don’t bring any of those damn things into the apartment.”

“Yes boss.” Eddie rolls his eyes, saluting him. I snort and Daizy giggles.

I shake my head. Ben’s the same old big brother I remember with the soul of an old man, except now he’s seemingly keeping this apartment full of 20-something boys from falling apart. It’s endearing but also makes my chest pang with resentment. He’s replaced taking care of his real family in exchange for these college students. Not that I hold any of it against them. How would they know?

The door closes behind Ben and Steve, plunging the room into silence with a deafening click.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

My brother must believe I own much more things than I actually do.

The massive storage unit sits mostly empty, an echo bouncing off its metal walls. I laid my books and clothes out on the concrete floor, just in case something decided to crawl into the crevices to hide. The thought makes me shudder and tense.

Eddie made crude joke about ‘finally seeing a girl’s underwear’, and while I’d typically be embarrassed, all I could do was laugh. His presence is a different level of infectious, like it’s impossible to be upset around him.

Luckily, Hailey was nowhere to be found while we were at the Dormitory. Class hasn’t started yet, so I’m left to assume she’s out looking for her next murder victim. Once the last box has been torn apart and the unit is locked down tight, Eddie drives us in his rickety van up to the University Housing office.

“Do you go to school here?” Daizy asks from the back seat.

Eddie laughs. “What, me? Hell no. I go to the DePaul across town,”

“The School of Music?” I inquire.

“The one and only,” he chortles.

“Gonna be a rockstar someday or what?” I joke.

“That’s the dream. Don’t worry, I’ll still write to you when I’m famous,” He jokes, parking in front of the administration building.

I stare at the front doors, the thought of crossing them daunting. Daizy reaches for me, squeezing my shoulder. ‘You’ve got this,’ she tells me silently, and I nod, unbuckling my frayed seatbelt and hopping out of the van.

There’s a singular woman at the desk, round face screwed up with annoyance. She doesn’t look up from her computer, and I cough awkwardly in hopes of getting her attention. She continues to type, unamused.

“Uh, hello?” It comes out ruder than I intend, and I cringe. She looks up at me through hooded, tired eyes. “I signed my housing contract a couple days ago but I need to move out. How do I go about doing that?”

She sighs loudly, rolling backward to grab forms off the desk behind her. She slaps the stack of papers in front of me. “You’ll need to provide ample reasoning for the contract termination. After we review we will determine how much of the semester you are financially liable for.”

“Financially liable? I don’t even live there,” I complain.

“It’s just like renting, sweetheart. You sign the contract, you pay the bill. You’ve got a week to bring all of these back.” She calls me sweetheart in that condescending, professional tone that makes my blood boil. I snatch the papers off the desk, forcing myself to be the bigger person and not glare at her. She is unbothered, turning back to her computer.

I storm back to the van with a scowl on my face and annoyance clouding my judgement.

“I take it that didn’t go well,” Daizy tests.

I groan, reaching behind me to show her the papers. She takes the stack from me. “What the fuck is this?”

“Bullshit, is what it is,” I tell her. Eddie extends his hand out to Daizy and she hands over the paperwork.

He scans it thoughtfully. “Don’t sign these. Talk to Benny about it first,” he tells me.

“I don’t need his help.” I scowl stubbornly, taking the papers back. I’ve learned my lesson in relying on people, and my brother is no exception to that. Besides, he’s helped me out enough. Daizy too.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something but his jaw snaps shut, an unreadable expression on his face. He silently puts the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking space.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I scroll through job sites on my laptop, mass applying to anything and everything. I stopped reading the job descriptions and qualifications about thirteen applications ago. Something will stick, I’m sure of it.

Back home, I worked as a barista right out of high school. I had impulsively moved in with my boyfriend at the time a week after graduation, and I needed a job to pay the bills stat. The local coffee shop graciously hired me. The job stuck, the boyfriend did not. Good riddance.

But now I’m jobless and boyfriendless, the latter of which doesn’t really bother me.

I know Ben’s right, even if I’ll never admit it aloud. I spent two grueling years applying to UChicago; poured my heart out into admissions essays, paid insane application fees. And for—what? To give up now? It’s not an option.

Eddie sits across the room on a beanbag chair, plucking at his electric guitar, occasionally adjusting the amp.

“You’re much nicer than your brother, y’kow,” Eddie breaks the silence so suddenly it’s startling.

I peek up from the screen. He’s looking at me with adorning eyes, curiosity playing on his lashes.

“Thank you?”

“Why’s that?”

“Why’s what?”

He leans back “Why are you so much nicer than Benny?”

I shrug, closing my laptop. “He took the brunt of the force from our parents. He endured eighteen years of pure torture. I wasn’t really affected until I was sixteen, when he moved out,” I hug my laptop close to my chest. “I understood, then. Why he is the way he is. Just doing the best with what was given to him. I tried to be there for him, but it’s hard when you’ve got no idea what to do,”

The silence between us is palpable. Finally, he speaks. “Well, thank God for you then. He would’ve turned out much worse if you weren’t there to keep him straight.”

I never thought of it that way, I want to tell him, but the whole conversation’s got me so uncomfortable that I let it die instead. Despite the topic, and his obvious flirting throughout the day, I’m not unsettled by my alone time with Eddie. He’s got a charm to him, and I gravitate towards him in a platonic way. I imagine us as good friends, and I’m sure we would’ve been in any other circumstance. But he’s my brother’s roommate, not my friend, and I try to keep that in mind.

He claps his hands and stands abruptly. “Well, Sweetheart. I think you’ve had enough depression for the week. Time for some fun,” he reaches out to me, wiggling his fingers decorated in bulky silver rings.

“Don’t call me that,” I complain but take his hand, standing up with a grunt.

“Get dressed,” he instructs, ignoring me.

“With what clothes, exactly?” I gesture to my pajamas and beaten up sneakers I’d worn the entire day, my clothing still stuck in a storage unit downtown.

He thinks for a minute, then his eyes light up. He dashes down the hall, into his bedroom—the second door on the right—and comes out a couple minutes later with clothes thrown over his forearm.

“Here, try this on,” he extends his arm, a little black dress and hanging around it.

I look up at him. “Why do you have women’s clothes?”

“Would you believe me if I told you they’re my sister’s?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t wanna know.”

“You’re foul,” I giggle. “I’m not wearing that!”

“Alright, new plan then,” he tosses the dress onto the couch before digging into the pocket of his ripped jeans. Retrieving his beaten cellphone that clings to life, he holds it to his ear.

“Who are you—“ he cuts me off with a raised pointer finger in a ‘one minute’ gesture. I roll my eyes.

“Daizy. Yeah It’s Eddie,” my heart drops. “Hey listen. I’ve got a situation. No, she’s fine… but uh, we need a dress. Preferably a short one,” he says the last part as he glances at me, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

I bury my face in my hands to hide my embarrassment.

“Yup. Bring it all. You’re coming with us. See you in a bit. Buh-bye.” he hangs up, shoving the decimated phone back into his pocket.

“Why do you have Daizy’s number?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” He retorts. “Take a shower. I’m sure Benny wouldn’t mind you using his. Unless, of course, you’d like to share,”

I twist my face and lightly shove his shoulder. “Gross.”

He energetically hops off back to his bedroom, his exclamation echoing down the hall, “Get ready!”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The Hub is a temperate college bar tucked into the corner of a strip of small businesses with apartments above them. The bouncer lets us skip the line and doesn’t bother to check our IDs. He tells Eddie to enjoy himself but to watch out for the owner Gary. Whatever that means. There’s two pool tables on the back end and flat screen TVs sit on every wall, each streaming a different sport. The hardwood floor’s seen better days, the roughest part being around the bar at the center of the room. It’s a loud Friday night: music blasts and drunk people shout over each other. A group of guys badly sing a karaoke cover of ‘My Girl’.

Daizy and I walk hand-in-hand. I tug her along, following Eddie. The only way I don’t lose him in the crowd is to follow that giant head of hair he has, bobbing in and out of the masses. Finally, we reach the bar, and Eddie leaps onto someone wearing a long coat, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

Ben jumps, startled, turning to look at us. His angry expression melts instantly and he sighs. “Jesus, you scared me. What’re you guys doing here?” He glances at Daizy and I, dresses short and low cut, heels dangerously tall and enough hairspray in our hair to suffocate someone. He rubs his temples. “What’re you wearing?”

Grumpy old man, I tease him in my head.

From behind the bar, Steve sets a beer in front of Ben. “Eddie, you know you’re banned from…” the words die on his lips as I step from behind Eddie. He tries—and fails—not to make it obvious that he looks me up and down. “Uh, hi,” he breathes. He looks so handsome, his hair combed back with a few stray strands tickling his forehead, dressed in blue jeans and a t shirt that hugs his chest, a bar towel flung over his shoulder.

My whole body sets on fire. I clamber up, feeling like the wind was knocked out of my lungs. What is happening to me? “Hi,” it’s a meek, pitiful nose, but he flashes me that award-winning grin anyways.

Eddie seems amused, cackling with the likeness of a hyena. Ben is obviously agitated. He grabs his beer off the bar, standing to catch Daizy’s wrist in his hands. He tugs her away and she gives me a look I can only describe as confusion and excitement mixed together.

“Just a PBR Stevie, then you can go back to staring at the pretty girl,” Eddie teases, leaning on the counter.

Steve peels his eyes off of mine to glare at him. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he complains, reaching under the counter and retrieving a can. He cracks it open, cheap beer splattering them. “If Gary asks, Joey served you. He doesn’t know you’ve been 86’d.”

“Request beers from Joey. Got it.” He makes a mental note, cheers-ing us before disappearing into the crowd as well.

I watch Eddie leave and when I look back at Steve, he's already looking at me, propped against the bar. A surge of bravery rattles through my chest and I sit in front of him. The space between us is minuscule now, the scent of his cologne leaving an intoxicating haze in our shared air.

He takes a deep breath, chest swelling. "What can I get you?"

I shrug. "Didn't bring my ID. I think it's still in the storage unit being debugged," I say with a bitter laugh.

"Don't worry about it," he chuckles, filling a glass with ice. "December 14, 1995. 12:14 AM," he recalls, pointing a finger at me.

My heart drops into my stomach. "How do you..?" I can't even finish my sentence. Just my luck, the beautiful one's a stalker.

He chuckles. "He talks about the day you were born like it was the best day of his life," he nods behind me and I spin on the stool. Ben is flirting with Daizy, carefully brushing her curls off her shoulder. I compress my grin into a tight smile, looking back at Steve.

“Tequila Sunrise. Make it a double, please,”

“Huh. I struck you as a vodka girl. House fine?” He tests, shaking the blue bottle of house tequila in his hand. I nod, infatuated as I watch him move.

Get it together.

He slides the drink across the bar, shit eating grin on is face. “Tell me; does tequila make you mean or melt your clothes off? I’m cool with either, just wanna be prepared,”

Is he… flirting with me?

I snort and cover the lower half of my face with my hand. “Oh, God. Does that usually work on girls?”

His smile is so bright. Even under the dim lighting and tacky disco lights from the karaoke machine, I can see the light in his chocolate eyes. He props himself up against the back bar, muscles tensing as he looks down at me. Suddenly all the stories Ben’s told me of his Freshman year Dorm roommate turning out to be his best friend that saved him from himself make total sense. Steve’s comforting in a familiar way, like the second you’ve met him you feel like you’ve known him for years.

“Is it working?” He asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I haven’t been flirted with since high school and, in all honesty, I’m kind of freaking out. Made worse by the fact this is my brother’s best friend and roommate, I decide I need to tread lightly despite what the burn between my legs and the pounding in my chest begs.

“Is it?” I tease.

His eyebrows raise and he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You look great tonight, by the way,” he compliments.

I sip my drink, the burn of cheap liquor on my tongue. “Thanks. It was Eddie’s idea,” I admit. Why would I say that? I internally cringe.

“Sounds like him…”

“Hey,” I lean forward, not noticing the way my boobs spill out of the top of this dress. Steve’s face twists a bit and he looks anywhere but me. “Does Eddie have a sister?”

“No?” Steve replies, bewildered.

“Son of a bitch,” I whisper. I knew it. Disgusting.

“Why do you…” he trails off, looking over my shoulder, a concerned look on his face. I spin around again, groaning when I see Eddie going back and forth with a burly man. Round beer belly and a beard to his chest, the guy’s got a hundred pounds on Eddie easily. “Ah, shit.” I hear Steve exasperate behind me.

Without thinking I stand up. Steve calls my name but I ignore him. The men begin shoving each other. I spot Daizy and Ben dancing in the crowd, pacing towards them as fast as these heels will allow me. I whistle and Daizy’s head snaps in my direction. I point frantically at Eddie and her face falls. Once I’ve confirmed they’re following me, I dash to Eddie and the man.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be up on random girls at the bar, jackass!” The man shouts, shoving Eddie hard. There’s a little redhead in a red skirt and tube top watching the two men argue, arms awkwardly folded across her chest. Oh boy. What’ve you gotten yourself into now, Eddie?

Eddie raises his arms, palms forward in surrender. “My bad Lumberjack John, I'll back off,"

“You son of a—“ he raises his fist.

“Hey!” I pull Eddie back a bit but shield my body with his in case the man decides to swing. I’m not getting punched for Eddie’s endeavors, that’s for sure. “I’m so sorry about my friend here, he’s a little,” I pretend to shield my mouth from Eddie’s view, breathing the words stupid to the man. “He gets confused easily. It’s my fault, I should’ve been watching him closer,”

“I’m not—“ Eddie starts.

“Eddie!” I cut him off just as Ben makes it to us. "Stop talking," I instruct sternly.

Ben pulls Eddie back with force, shoving him behind us.

“Let’s all calm down okay?” Ben attempts to defuse.

"Your buddy's got no business talkin' to my nineteen-year-old daughter. What're you, thirty?" the man spits.

"Daughter?! Nineteen?!" Eddie turns green, and I think he might vomit. He doesn't bother to correct the man and tell him he's actually 23.

You've done it now, idiot.

"How'd you even get in here?" I snap, looking from her to her father. His face is pale. "Did you sneak your teenage daughter into a bar?!"

Completely unprovoked--or maybe my question caused it, not that we're pointing fingers here-- the man lunges for Ben, landing a solid right hook to his jaw. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Steve leap over the bar and begin a dash towards us.

The daughter leaps towards me, punching me square in the eye.

Now if you've never been knocked straight in the eye socket, the feeling is incomprehensible until it's happened to you. A pain so intense it makes you sick. It knocks me to the floor, the air sucked out of my lungs like a deflated Whoopee Cushion.

The Hub doesn't take long to devolve into utter chaos, food flying and punches thrown. Strangers fighting just because someone else started it. I've never been in a bar brawl until now. I know it's loud but I can barely hear it, my ears ringing as I lay feeling dead on the floor.

My head is killing me.

A man in white scoops me up off the floor.

An Angel. Goddammit, I'm dead. Always knew I'd die in a stupid way.

"You're alright, Sunny. I got you." Steve's voice is deep and hushed, his lips practically pressed into my hair as he whispers only for me to hear.

Funny. I don't remember him wearing white.

My ears still ring, so I think he says Honey instead of Sunny, and it makes me laugh because I imagine I'm the opposite of something sweet. Disappointing, like when you bite into a chocolate chip cookie and it's actually oatmeal raisin.

He must wonder why I'm laughing. If I don't die, then I'll have to let him in on the joke.

The air is cold and dark. We're outside. I'm loaded up into a car I don't recognize, but it smells like a mix of Steve's cologne and aged leather. Steve hands the keys to Daizy. I know it's her because, despite my blurry vision, I can still make out her sequin dress.

I focus really hard on staying awake, recalling that when at risk of a concussion, to not fall asleep.

Do not fall asleep.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I lay my head on Daizy's lap as she presses a sack of frozen peas on my swollen eye. The expired painkillers she'd dug out of Ben's medicine cabinet do very little to soothe the sharp pain in my skull.

Trying desperately to think of anything but the fiasco at the bar, I fail miserably. I can only imagine what kind of crap Steve's got to deal with because of us. Ben tells me that Steve’s actually the manager at the Hub, and that this isn’t the first time Eddie’s gotten into trouble there. It’s a bad look for Steve, made worse by Ben and I’s involvement.

Eddie sits in the beanbag chair picking at his nails anxiously. Ben holds a bag of frozen broccoli to his jaw, glaring at Eddie from the couch by my feet.

"You fuckin' idiot," Ben snipes.

Eddie surrenders. "I didn't know she was nineteen!"

"You called him a Lumberjack, Ed!"

The door opens and shuts quickly. I sit up too fast and my head swirls. Daizy holds my head--which feels far too large for my neck--in her hands.

Steve tosses his jacket on the coat rack. He stares at us, hands on his hips. "Well, I fired the doorman. Thank you, Eddie," he says bitterly.

Granted, the bouncer should've never let a teenager slip into the Hub, but I still feel guilty.

Steve joins us in the living room, leaning over the sofa to rough up Ben's hair. "How's your face?"

"Feels like I just got punched," Ben groans.

Steve's eyes shift to me. He leans in a bit, gently taking the peas out of Daizy's hand and lifting them off my eye. He grimaces. "Nasty shiner, Sunny. You’re trouble, y’know that? It follows you,”

Sunny. Not Honey. I still don't get it.

His closeness makes me nervous. I try to think of something to say to ease the tension, pressing the frozen vegetable to my skin, making it tingle. “Deterministic Chaos Theory,” I mumble sleepily.

“The—What now?” Eddie wonders aloud.

“Small changes can be exponentially amplified, causing large and unpredictable consequences,” I define, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “An environment can be rewritten by what is essentially Butterfly Effect. Learned about it in my pre-reqs.”

“Could’ve just said Butterfly Effect,” Ben complains. “You just wanted to sound smart.”

I kick him lightly. He flinches and chuckles.

"How are you feeling?" Daizy asks.

I swallow. "Pissed. I didn't get to finish my drink,"

Everyone shares a laugh at that.

"I'll make you plenty more while you stay here." the words come out of Steve's mouth so casually that I assume I didn't hear him right. My eyes bulge out of my head as I look around. Eddie gives me a massive smile, one of many I’ve gotten form him today, clapping his hands together. My eyes fall on my brother.

He shrugs. "We've got Jesse’s old room. It's yours, if you want it." Jesse must be the fourth guy that used to live here, his unoccupied bedroom at the end of the hall.

My jaw hits the floor, a prickling pain searing under my skin. The idea sound preposterous at first, three boys and a girl in one old apartment, but then I realize I’m in no position to decline and they’re doing me a favor. “Are you guys serious?”

“As a heart attack, Sweetheart,” Eddie jests. Steve plays with his hair and nods giddily.

Ben says ‘don’t call her that’ just as I say ‘don’t call me that’, prompting us to look at each other.

“We’re not letting you go back to the Dorms or letting you drop classes. Besides, we need someone to pay Jesse’s rent if we wanna keep living here,” Ben lightens the mood with a joke but I can tell he’s dead serious by the look in his eyes.

I crane my neck to look back at Daizy. She smiles big, nodding. You should do it, I swear I can hear her voice in my head.

Everyone’s eyes are on me. It makes me uncomfortable and I squirm, mulling over my answer. This feels a lot like being reliant on others, which is something I refuse to do. Not that I’ve got much of a choice, the alternatives far worse than the option in front of me. What’s the worst that could happen? I purse my lips together and nod. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“You heard her boys!” Eddie stands up, leaping over the coffee table and pouncing on Steve. “There’s a lady in Apartment 406D!” He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, attempting to pull him onto the ground. Ben scolds them both. ‘Better knock it off before you break something’, or something like that. I’m not paying attention, just watching them wrestle like twelve year olds in the dim lamplight.

As we sit there in our natural element, I realize this is what my life is like now for the foreseeable future. It’ll be tough for sure. I’ve never lived with a man I wasn’t related to, let alone this many at once. I’m outnumbered, predicting that I’ll be begging Daizy to come up to Chicago to give me a reprieve from all the boy in this house.

Despite my reservations, I smile at the trio as they argue about something unbeknownst to me.

There are far worse ways to spend my days.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**I edited this intoxicated, pls let me know if I missed anything**

Wanna be tagged? Just ask!

Tag list—

@spookysace24

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2

Robin Buckley was unfortunately well-aware of Steve Harrington, long before they started working together. He had been the worst kind of popular in high school, the completely effortless kind. And Robin was not looking forward to working with him. 

Sure, he had been better than the other jock dickheads Robin was forced to share space with, but that probably had more to do with his weird Eddie Munson friendship than anything else. Being friends with the town freak kind of forced you to be more accepting. Or in Steve’s case, force you to punch anyone who insulted him in the face. 

And while that was all nice and chivlirous or whatever it didn’t stop the fact that Steve Harringinton was a complete ass who slept with dozens of girls and threw them away immmeidtly after. There was no way that a guy like that wasn’t a dick. 

And after their first shift working together, Robin was convinced that she had been absolutely right. He was a total slouch at work, spending most of his time failing at flirting with girls or yapping to his friends on the phone in the back. He was a complete diva about his hair, and their manager had given him three reprimands in the span of four hours for not wearing the dumb hat. And he was always trying to get out of work early. 

After their first week together Robin was ready to strangle him. The only thing she’d give him is that he accepted being assigned indefinite bathroom cleaning duty with grace, otherwise she probably would have killed him and hid the body in the freezer by now.

Though he was really trying to expedite the process over here.

It was another annoying, Harrington filled day, only for him to once again try and leave early. 

But before he could get to the door, Robin was dragging him back behind the counter, hissing, “Where the hell do you think you’re going? We have inventory tonight.”

She had expected him to whine in response or maybe say something dickish that she could kick him in the shin for, but he just looked horrified.

“Tonight? B-But it won’t take that long right? Like just a few minutes?”

“Try a few hours. They’re making us count the spoons man. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

His eyes got wider with each word, and for a split second Robin was actually worried that he was about to have a panic attack. That was until he opened his mouth again, “I-okay. Look dude, I really can’t do this tonight. I have a thing that I need to go to. But I can make it up to you! Or I can come in tomorrow morning-”

“The manager is going to look at it tomorrow morning,” Robin interrupted, arms crossed and brow twitching, “What is so damn important that it can’t wait till tomorrowow?”

“Does that matter?” Steve asked, oddly defensive for someone who was literally begging, “I just need to leave. But I can make it up to you! I’ll even pay you. You can have all the tips for the week and if that’s not enough then I’ll do the trash for three-no four days. I’ll do anything. Please?”

He actually looked like he was on the edge of tears and Robin had to begrudgingly admit that the puppy eyes were working on her. Christ, she was too good of a person. 

She sighed, “Trash duty for two weeks, and for the week I get the tips I expect you to be extra charming. We clear?”

“Yes! Totally fair!” Steve was already speed walking backwards to the door, and those misty eyes had suddenly completely disappeared. Robin was started to think that she just got played and big time, “Best co-worker ever! Really couldn’t ask for better-”

“Just fucking go.” Robin said as she shooed him off, near snorting when Steve actually started running out of the mall. 

She looked back behind the counter, groaning when she realized that his trash promise apparently started tomorrow. Fucking dick. She’d take out the trash, do inventroy alone, and then curse the Harrington name. 

She started to lug the disgusting trash bags full of soupy ice cream through the backdoor, shivering a little in the cold. The dumpster was right next to the almost empty parking lot, everyone gone except one long running van.

Robin stopped, realziing that two people were making out infront of it, and one of them just so happened to still be wearing his cutsy uniform while he shoved his tongue down the stranger’s throat. Robin stared at them, barely concealed by the dumpster as her blood boiled. 

Steve ditched her to make-out with some chick in the parking lot? Oh hell no. He was not getting away with this. She was just about to come out of her hiding spot to start tearing into him when she heard Steve giggle. Honest to god giggle. 

He was standing in front of the girl, obscuring her face while he played with a lock of her hair, “Aw, don’t pout. I didn’t make the schedule. Besides, I already said I’d make it up to you in any way you want.”

Robin rolled her eyes, wondering if she should include warning the poor girl that whatever two week anniversary they were celebrating would definitely be their last when she called him out. 

“I just didn’t expect to spend most of our four year anniversary eating cake in bed alone,” The stranger answered, their voice instantly recongnizble, “I was supposed to be eating you.”

That wasn’t a chick, that was Eddie.

Robin gasped, a hand going over her mouth. She had heard that voice many times, usually yelling about comforimity while standing on a lunch table. But that didn’t make sense! It couldn’t be-

But then Eddie was spinning them around, crowding Steve against the hood of his car, his signature DIO vest on full display while he ploundered Steve’s mouth, Steve laughing into it all the while. 

Robin felt like her brain was short-circuiting as she watched them. She was actually witnessing Steve Harrington happily shoving his tongue down Eddie Munson’s throat.

Steve pulled away first, holding Eddie back with a hand to his chest, still giggling, “God, that was so lame. Even for you.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” Steve easily agreed, “And I’ll love it even more when we’re home and in bed. Then we can really start celebrating.”

That was more than enough for Eddie. He dragged Steve off of the hood before opening the passenger side door for him, stealing one more kiss before running over to the driver’s side. 

Robin watched as they settled into the van, hands immediately clasped back together over the centerconsole. But it didn’t stop there. No, Steve was licking his lips and looking down muttering something to Eddie that she couldn’t hear. But she could guess, especially when his head suddenly dissapeared right before they drove off. 

Robin stayed hidden behind the dumpster, still trying to comprehend what she’d just seen. She just watched King Steve make out with the resident freak, and maybe start the beginnings of road head, all while giggling and laughing about their fucking anniversy.

What. The. Fuck.

From an unpublished chapter of this fic

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

The Only Tally Mark

Ship: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: The 'You Suck' tallies are getting pretty high, but there's a girl in Scoops Ahoy who knows Robin in wrong. If she can just get the courage to open her mouth, Steve's luck is about to change.

Word Count: 7,250 words

Warnings: Robin's a bit mean, she also has no filter, pining, Steve's failed flirting attempts, blatant staring/pining, implied confession, first kiss

Note: Set pre-s4 and the day Dustin comes back, before the Russian code is cracked.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

July had only just begun in Hawkins, and you could already tell it was going to be a hot one. Less than twenty-four hours in, temperatures had already hit record-breaking highs—at least, that was according to the weatherman on the television you were sat in front of, sweating and feeling relief from the heat only when the fan beside you swiveled back toward you.

“Every July is this hot,” your father said from the kitchen, where he was drinking his second glass of water in five minutes.

“Oh, sure, but never this early,” your mother retorted. “It’s only the first, and already we’re melting out of the house.”

Sensing an irritable argument birthed from the nearly unbearable heat, you left the living room and headed up the stairs to your bedroom. You picked up the phone you’d begged your parents to let you have years ago, dialing the number of your best friend of four years: Robin Buckley, the band dweeb to your theatre kid.

It was her mom who answered the phone, several dial tones later. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Buckley—is Robin home?”

“Oh, hi, sweetie! She’s at work right now, her shift ends at seven.”

You stopped yourself from swearing. “Oh, right, I forgot. Thank you!”

“No problem, dear,” Mrs. Buckley said before hanging up.

You leaned against the wall. How could you have forgotten? Robin had been telling you about her new job in the mall—and the sailor’s uniform she had to wear. You’d seen her get ready for work once and had burst into giggles the moment she put the hat on her head.

You glanced at the digital clock next to your bed, checking the time. There was still several hours before the mall closed. You might as well visit Robin and abuse your friendship to get some free ice cream at the same time, right?

So you grabbed your wallet and shoved it in your pocket and bounded down the stairs.

"Hey, I'm going out!" you shouted to your parents.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" your father asked, appearing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

"To the mall? Robin works there and I'm going to visit."

"Don't spend too much, dear!" your mother called.

"Sure, Mom!"

You hopped in your car and headed for the mall, following the thick cluster of traffic that always lined the streets leading to the mall, passing through the streets lined with empty, hollow shops.

~❊~

The mall was crowded, as busy as it had always been since the day it opened. You pushed your way through the crowds gathered around storefronts and display windows, trying to remember which floor Scoops Ahoy was on.

You took the escalator down to the first floor and scanned the shops surrounding you. When you spotted the sign for the ice cream store, you headed toward it, maneuvering past a group of pre-teens cackling about manipulating the store's workers into giving them free samples.

There was no one at the counter when you walked in. A majority of the tables were occupied by groups of teens. As you approached the register, you could hear faint bickering from behind the pebbled glass windows, Robin's distinct voice floating out to you.

"...do the job you're supposed to do, I've been scooping so much ice cream my hand's cramped," she was saying.

You stifled a giggle and tapped your hand lightly against the bell in front of you, wincing when it was a little louder than you had been expecting.

The swing door on the left opened with a bang, revealing the back of a boy who was gesturing at Robin, who was quite literally pushing him out the door. She disappeared before you could catch her attention, and the other attendant took up his place in front of the register.

"Ahoy, sailor! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain, I'm Steve Harrington."

You blinked at him. "Is that company policy like the hat and the outfit?"

He stared at you. "I'm sorry, what?"

You shrugged. "I'm a friend of Robin's, she complains about the, and I quote, stupid company rules that make everyone look stupid."

He stared at you. You stared at him. Awkward silence settled between the two of you.

The introduction hadn't been necessary. You had spent most of your high school experience listening to Robin complain about Steve Harrington and his stupid perfect hair and his stupid easy charm and his stupid actual stupidity. The Steve she'd painted matched up perfectly with the kid you'd seen around in the halls, dressed in his ironed polo shirts and pleated khakis or that stupid basketball uniform and letterman jacket—and Nancy Wheeler on his arm.

You and Robin had watched his life crash and burn with malicious glee—and all the while you had tried to ignore that this was the very same boy you'd crushed on in middle school, and had been so shocked to find out had changed so much when you got to the high school, a year after he did.

Steve cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the register, firmly away from you. "Um. What can I get you?"

"Uh..." Every ice cream flavor you had ever liked instantly disappeared from your head. It wasn't like the usual mind-blankness that came from being asked a question about your favorite anything. It was like your entire body had stopped, freezing in the pretty face of Steve Harrington, ridiculous as the uniform was. Especially with the hat, which Robin hadn't told you about.

The door swung open again. "Jesus, Steve, what's taking you so damn long?" Robin froze where she stood. A smile lit up her face. "What are you doing here?!"

You grinned. "Visiting!"

Robin hip-checked Steve out of the way. Steve glared at her while she grabbed the ice cream scoop from the pocket at his side.

"Jesus, do you have to be so brutal?" he snapped.

Clearly fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Robin turned back to Steve. "I'm sorry, would you please get out of the way so I can serve my best friend? Thanks," she said, her customer service smile plastered to her face.

Muttering under his breath, Steve pushed away from the counter, leaning on the sill of the window behind him. He crossed his arms, still staring resolutely at the floor.

Robin grinned at you. "I wasn't expecting you to—"

"Be here?" you finished. "I called your house before I realized you were working, so I thought I might as well come visit."

"Glad you did," she said. "You would not believe how much of a headache it is working with dingus over there."

You glanced over her shoulder at Steve, his pink lips forming a pissy pout. Oh, yeah. Still pretty, still a bitch.

"You didn't tell me you worked with him," you said under your breath.

Robin shrugged, shooting you a knowing smile. "Yeah, well, I knew you'd show up and find out for yourself eventually." Her eyes slid to the corners, as if she could see Steve sulking behind her. "We'll talk about him later. What ice cream do you want? On us."

You giggled. "How did I know you'd say that?"

She snorted. "Oh, so you're abusing our friendship for free ice cream?"

"Maybe," you said. "Just this once."

Robin rolled her eyes and grabbed an ice cream cone. "Here—I'll grab your favorite."

And, without you needing to remind her, she lowered the scoop into the tub of ice cream that you got every time the two of you had gotten ice cream after going to see a movie, back before the mall. You wondered how you could have forgotten, until you looked over Robin's shoulder again and found Steve looking up, lips parted and eyes fixed on you. The minute you caught his gaze, he blushed and looked away.

You took advantage of his embarrassment, admiring the pink in his cheeks and how he awkwardly licked his lips. He toyed with the watch on his wrist, crossed and uncrossed his legs. Was he nervous? An even better question—had you ever seen Steve Harrington nervous before?

While you studied Steve, Robin made a second cone of ice cream, a different flavor than yours.

Robin looked behind her. "Hey—man the counter, will you? I'm going on break."

Steve spluttered. "You just came back from break!"

"No, we just finished our lunch break. I still have my federally-required thirty minutes to take. So I'm gonna take 'em." She shoved the scoop at Steve's chest and stepped out from behind the counter.

The pair of you took an unoccupied table near the counter, in case she was needed.

"Should you be leaving him to do it by himself?" you asked, glancing back at Steve one last time.

"What, are you worried about him? He'll be fine," Robin said. She shrugged with a sigh. "He's...he's not as bad as we thought he was in high school. He's less of a douche now, at least."

"Just a dingus?" you asked with a smile.

She nodded. "He's still as stupid as we always thought."

You turned your attention away from Steve at toward your ice cream. "Why didn't you tell me he worked with you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's not have that conversation while he's here, okay? For your dignity's sake. I know he's far away, but he's got impressive hearing." She shrugged. "Blame it on four years of listening for gossip, I guess."

Your gaze shifted back to Steve as he raked a hand through his hair, stretching enough for his shirt to lift. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you crossed your legs. Now that he wasn't surrounded by assholes who mocked you and Robin and your friends for their own personal entertainment, it was easier to appreciate how he'd grown into himself since middle school. Taking care of himself had made him a whole new level of handsome.

Robin giggled. "Yeah—that's why we're not gonna talk about this while he's around. You still have a thing for him, don't you?"

Steve relaxed against the countertop, fixing his hair and putting the hat back on with a scowl. You cleared your throat.

"I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Me? Forget about you having the most embarrassing crush on him for years? Only to get to high school and find out he'd become a dick? Never."

You groaned. "Oh, stop rubbing it in!"

A gaggle of girls walked into the store, four of them giggling and talking and rolling their eyes. Immediately, Steve stood up a little straighter and fiddled with his uniform.

Robin snorted. "Oh, watch this. He's been failing catastrophically with every girl that walks in. I keep count."

"You keep count?"

She nodded gleeful, pointing with her chin in the direction of the counter.

"Ahoy, ladies!" Steve said, leaning on the counter. His attempt to be attractive failed dismally, however, when his hand slipped off the side and he lost both his balance and his composure for a moment.

One of the girls giggled with her friend. Steve's cheeks darkened.

"I'm Steve Harrington, I'll be your captain on this ocean of flavor. What can I get you lovely ladies today?"

You glanced at Robin. "I don't see what he's doing wrong."

"That's because this is scripted," Robin whispered back.

The first girl stepped forward. "One scoop of chocolate and one of vanilla, please."

Steve tried a debonaire smile. "Oooh, classic, I like it. I'm all for vanilla myself, you know, all the time."

You winced. "Was...was that supposed to be a double entendre?"

"Yep," Robin said, popping the p with a smirk.

"I see what you mean now," you said. The girl was making a face that said she caught Steve's drift and found it rude. Steve cleared his throat and moved on, scooping ice cream into a cone and handing it to her with a mortified whisper of "here you go." His gaze flicked over to you and Robin, at which point his mortification seemed to grow.

You watched the exchange grow steadily worse. Steve stumbled over his words and tripped over his feet and dropped an empty cone twice. Customers who had already gotten ice cream became onlookers who left, one by one, as the secondhand embarrassment grew.

"God, he's hopeless," you whispered. "Whatever happened to the Steve in high school?"

"You mean the one with a new girl on his arm every week? I'd say that stopping can be blamed on one Nancy Wheeler," Robin said.

You rolled your eyes. "While they were dating, obviously. But now? One relationship shouldn't make him incapable of flirting with a girl."

Robin watched the girls leave, snickering behind their hands. A moment later, Steve groaned, wiping a hand over his face. "You know what I think his problem is?"

"What?"

"He's trying to flirt all of them into submission, not just one girl he likes out of the group."

You nodded slowly. "Sounds about right. I mean...if he flirted with me one minute and then you the next, I don't think I'd want to jump his bones, exactly."

Robin rolled her eyes. "What are you talking about? You've always wanted to jump his bones."

"That was middle school, and that was before any of us gave a shit about sex."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Robin teased. "I saw how you looked at him during gym class."

You shrugged, trying to hide your face behind your hair. Robin knew your expressions better than anyone; your embarrassment was going to be obvious the minute she caught sight of you. "It's gym class! Guys don't wear shirts ninety percent of the time, they practically invite girls to stare." Your gaze slid back to Steve, who was once again staring at the floor. His cheeks were still red, and that pretty mouth of his had once again formed a pout. "Jesus, I don't think I've ever seen him so...despondent."

"He's like that at least five times a shift," Robin said. She played with a small red plastic spoon she had pulled from her pocket. "You know... You could come work here with us. Then you'd get to see Steve every day."

"Robin, you're constantly complaining about how much you hate working your, and I quote, pitiful minimum wage job."

"Yeah, but you like Steve, and eye candy makes the day go by faster."

You swatted her arm discreetly. "Don't objectify him!"

She rolled her eyes. "Hey, Steve!"

Steve looked up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack, even with some distance between your table and the counter. "What?"

"Come convince her to work with us!"

You glared at her. "Robin, I already have a summer job!" you protested, trying to stop your heart from racing as Steve approached the two of you. You looked anywhere but him, knowing a soft smile and a well-timed flutter of his eyelashes was all it would take for Steve to convince you to do anything he asked.

Steve pulled a chair from the other table for two next to you, spinning it unnecessarily in his hand and dragging it to the edge of your table. He straddled it, leaning his arms against the backrest. Your heart climbed into your throat.

Steve's eyes met yours and every thought melted from your brain. Brown had never been such a pretty color. Although his eyes weren't just brown, they were hazel, mottled with soft greens and blues and greys. You'd never seen such beautiful eyes before, so expressive and kind and interested and attentive and—

"Tell her why she should come work with us," Robin said, breaking your focus on Steve's eyes.

You rolled your eyes. "Robin, I already have a job," you repeated. "A job I like that pays well that I can work at year-round."

Steve snorted, shaking his head absentmindedly. "Then don't come here, that's for sure. The pay is shit, the job is just as bad, and nobody likes ice cream in the winter."

Robin glared at him. "What part of convincing her do you not understand?"

Steve shrugged, ignoring her. "But, then again, you'd get to work with Robin and you might alleviate my boredom from dealing with her all the time." He jerked his head toward Robin. "You wouldn't believe how mean to me she is."

You stifled a giggle as Robin huffed. An easy grin reminiscent of the king he once as slid across Steve's face. You felt slightly giddy, knowing you had been the one to put it there.

More people walked into the store and Robin shot to her feet. "Come on, dingus. We have a job to do." She dragged him to his feet, ignoring his hiss of complaint. He shot you an apologetic shrug as she pulled him behind the register again.

While the two of them got back to work, you sat back in your booth table and finished your ice cream. Once you were done, you discreetly snuck out of the store, leaving a note for Robin at the counter promising to call her after her shift.

As you wrote the note and taped it to the register, you failed to notice Steve pause where he was scooping ice cream to watch you, or that his gaze stayed on you until you left the store and Robin had to snap him out of his reverie.

~❊~

Though it seemed utterly impossible, the next day was even hotter than the last. You lasted all of two hours at the community pool before you got tired of the screaming children and moms flirting with Billy Hargrove and you went home.

You changed out of your bathing suit, dressing more consciously than you had since the eighth grade semi-formal. You selected your jewelry carefully before hopping in your car and heading to the mall for a second time that week.

Scoops Ahoy was significantly less busy when you walked in. Robin looked half-asleep where she stood at the counter, but she brightened when you walked in.

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" she asked, leaning on the counter with a grin.

You shrugged. "It's hot, ice cream is a solution."

She studied you for a moment. "The pool didn't solve that?"

You scoffed. "Hell no. It's full of tiny children and middle-aged moms and girls who only go so they can take up space and stare at Billy."

"And there's no Steve there, is there?" Robin teased.

You rolled your eyes. "No," you admitted. "Or you."

Robin scooped your ice cream and passed it to you over the countertop. "He'll be back soon, his break ends in a minute. He went to go grab us food."

"He what?"

Robin shrugged. "Yeah, he does that a lot. I hate to say it, but he's actually a nice guy. I think we might have been wrong about him."

You grinned. "So I was right back in middle school! I told you."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you did." She cleared her throat. "Behind you."

You heard Steve's footsteps approaching a split second before he said, "Hey, you're back! Applying?"

Turning to face him, you snorted. "Absolutely not. I'm here for ice cream and ice cream alone."

Steve frowned. "What are we, chopped liver?" he asked, gesturing between himself and Robin.

"I'm surprised you know that phrase," Robin said.

Steve made a face. "I do know some things, Robin." He turned back to you. "I told you she's mean to me."

You laughed. "She's mean to everyone sometimes, it's nothing personal."

"Yes it is, dingus," Robin said, and you remembered she had plenty of reasons aside from Steve's years mocking her and her friends to be angry with him.

You just shrugged at him when Steve looked at you for guidance. He copied your shrug and passed Robin a plastic bag that smelled heavenly.

"If I'd known you were coming to visit, I would have gotten you something," Steve said apologetically.

"Oh, it's fine," you promised. "I've got ice cream." He smiled at you, his laughter shining through. "Honestly, I'm surprised you two don't exist off of ice cream."

"We used to," Robin said.

Steve nodded. "It got pretty tiring after a week. It's like when they told us in health class that energy from sugar doesn't last very long. Or something like that."

Robin squinted at him. "You can't remember enough of high school to get to college, but you can remember health class?"

"I remembered enough to graduate," Steve mumbled, cheeks turning pink once again. You were starting to get used to Steve's embarrassment. It was as cute as he always was.

"Stay and eat with us," Robin said, turning back to you. "I'll split my fries with you. You did remember the fries, didn't you, dingus?"

"Of course I remembered the fries," Steve snorted. He dropped the Closed for lunch! sign on the counter and held the swinging door open for you. You thanked him as you walked by, aware of his eyes following you.

You sat in the seat Robin pulled out for you and finished your ice cream before stealing some of the previously offered fries.

"I think we're closing early, Robin," Steve said, glancing out the cracked window. "We've had, what, three people all day?"

"Four if you count the Radio Shack employee across the way," Robin said. "But I don't, because they get it for free."

You frowned. "Do I not count as a customer because you give me ice cream for free?"

Steve shook his head a bit too quickly. "No, you count, Robin just doesn't like the Radio Shack employees."

"Because they're rude," she complained. "They complain about everything and change their minds three times—but always after you've already started scooping, and even when you're done, they don't like it!"

"Sounds like a regular day in customer service," you said, feigning cheerfulness.

"Yeah, a shitty day," Robin said.

"Where do you work?" Steve asked. "I don't think I've ever asked."

"The record store down on Main," you said.

"You know, the one I said I had been planning on working at," Robin said. "But Scoops hired faster."

"Maybe we should switch jobs," Steve muttered.

Robin snorted. "Yeah, like that'll go over well."

"The store won't hire more people, anyway," you cut in. "It got rid of most of the staff, especially the new people, to cut costs because of the mall."

"Is there a record store in here?" Steve asked.

"No, but there is a Sam Goody and a Camelot Music in the mall. We used to have a partnership with the Sam Goody on Main, but then it closed due to the mall, and we started losing business to the one in the mall." You sighed. "I hear about it all the time. It's all the owner ever talks about these days."

Steve munched on a fry, staring at you as you spoke. His eyes were stuck firmly on you. You tried not to squirm under his intense gaze.

Robin leaned back in her chair. "One of these days, I'm gonna visit you at work instead."

You rolled your eyes. "If you ever have a day off," you said.

"Kinda hard to have a day off when we're the only two working here," Steve said.

You nodded. "The constant problem of being short staffed."

"That would be solved if you just came and worked here," Robin muttered into her wrap. You rolled your eyes again, stealing another one of her fries.

"No, Robin."

Robin harrumphed and took a bite of her sandwich more viciously than twas strictly required.

Steve faked a pout. "You just really don't like us, do you?"

"She doesn't," Robin agreed, smirking. You knew that smirk; she was going to do her best to guilt trip you—using Steve, which was perhaps the only way to guilt you into doing what she wanted.

You rolled your eyes. "It's got nothing to do with you, I promise."

"Ouch," they said in unison.

You frowned. "What are you, the same person?"

They both shrugged.

"Alright, that's just weird," you sighed. You glanced down at your watch. "How long does your lunch break last?"

"Thirty minutes. Why?" Steve asked.

You shrugged. "Wouldn't want you to get fired because I'm here distracting you."

Steve propped his head up on his hand. Stray curls of hair fell into his face. Your heart twisted in your chest. He was beautiful. How could he be so beautiful?

Robin watched as you and Steve stared at each other. You were aware of her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of you, observing the way you were melting under his gaze, your lips parting the longer he looked at you, the barriers you'd put up slowly crumbling. Steve was no better, staring at you with open, asking eyes. He moistened his lower lip with his tongue and it took everything in you not to whimper.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the look on Robin's face—the look of disgust that crossed her face every time she was disgusted by public affection from straight couples. Your heart did flips at the sight of her expression.

"Would you guys stop that?" she groaned, getting up from her seat.

"Doing what?" Steve asked, still looking at you. You tore your eyes away from him and back to the half-empty container of fries.

"Making eyes at each other," she said. Steve spluttered, instantly losing the lovey look in his eyes.

"Making eyes— Robin, what are you talking about?"

You cleared your throat. "Hey, um, what's the board for?" You hoped your question would steer the conversation away from the feeling bubbling in your chest at the sight of Steve.

Steve groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"I told you I was keeping score of Steve's failing dating life. This is my scoreboard."

You nearly choked. "You keep track of it on a whiteboard at work?!" You looked at the neatly drawn board, the 'You Rule' and 'You Suck' columns divided by a line.

"Actually, I have to put the one from yesterday on here."

Steve groaned again, cheeks burning very red. He looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and stay there.

You watched her add a line. "Robin..."

"She's right, I suck," Steve sighed. "My luck's been pretty shit recently."

"You don't suck, she's just being mean," you said. You sent her a look, shaking your head slightly. She just shrugged.

"You don't have to be nice about it," he said. "I know how bad I am at this. I haven't gotten laid in months."

"Okay, too much information, Steve," you said with a little laugh.

"Oh, so this suddenly isn't a safe place to talk about all our life troubles?" he teased.

You laughed fully. He smiled, and the room seemed to light up with the glow emanating from him.

"Get a room," Robin groaned.

Steve turned around. "I'm not flirting, Robin!"

"Yeah, right," Robin smirked. "It's just working this time."

You coughed. "I, um, I have to go."

They both turned back to you, as if they'd forgotten that you were even there.

"Shit, hang on," Steve started, but Robin cut him off.

"No, wait, I didn't mean it like that—" Robin said, realizing she'd practically told Steve you liked him.

"Yeah, right, I know, I just have, uh..." You fumbled for an excuse for a minute. "I have to go drive a friend home! I'll call you later, Robs!" You rushed out the swinging door just as the bell at the counter rang.

Steve pushed his hands through his hair. "Shit."

"Oh, no," Robin whispered. "Steve, ignore that, ignore all of that, I screwed up, I shouldn't have said anything, she's going to be so pissed. It's just that she's liked you since middle school and it's gotten worse now that you're not a douchebag—" Robin clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I won't tell her you said that," Steve said quietly. "Oh, Jesus, Robin..."

"I'm sorry—"

"Stop apologizing to me," Steve said. "If you hadn't said anything, I never would have realized."

Robin made a face. "See, that's why you suck, not because you're bad at flirting with girls. You've just been flirting with the wrong ones, because you're oblivious of the ones that actually like you."

Steve was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Thanks for pointing that out." He peered out the window, watching you leave the mall, wiping at your eyes and pushing your hair out of your eyes.

Simultaneously, Steve and Robin whispered, "Shit."

At the counter, Erica Sinclair tapped the bell again. "Hello? I want some samples!"

They shouted, "Shut up!"

Steve slammed the glass doors shut.

~❊~

Steve unlocked his front door, stepped inside his house, and put his back to the closed door. He slid down the door with a heavy sigh.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath. All he had been able to see since you left Scoops was your stricken face, horrified and embarrassed that Robin had spilled your biggest secret. (Which Robin had told him after, in bits and pieces, while they closed up the store.)

Steve couldn't believe it. How had he never noticed? Granted, he hadn't been the most observant for, well, the majority of his life. And his middle school years had been fairly dull, unmemorable. But wouldn't have noticed if you—you, out of everyone in Hawkins Middle—had been crushing on him?

To his utter shame, the most Steve remembered of you in middle school was how you had been a good friend to him, long before any of his high school friends knew who he was, and that he'd ditched you once he got to high school. You'd helped him study a few times, too. He wasn't sure what year it was, but he knew you'd helped him pass both English and History in the same year.

He'd shared a handful of classes with you, too, when classes had been so small they'd mixed grades. Sixth grade science, when the two of you had worked on a minor chemical project together. In seventh grade, you'd had two classes together. Gym, which had been downright brutal so early in the morning, especially when the teachers split up the teams as boys against girls. He remembered you had gotten nailed in the head with a basketball once, and that he'd been asked by your teacher to take you to the nurse. Then there had been math class, where he'd sat behind you, asking you questions and begging you to explain the concepts he didn't understand—even though you didn't understand it much more than he did. Eighth grade history, where Steve had done a presentation on his grandfather's experience in the World War, and you had been the only to actually raise your hand to ask a question.

Steve got up from the door and went up to his bathroom, stripping out of his uniform to take a shower. While the water soaked his hair and skin, warming him up, Steve's mind turned back to you—not that it had ever really left you.

You had been his first crush. Well, his first real crush. You'd been pretty, even when you were young and curious and a year younger than he was. Most of his friends had said that the younger girls were cute, but embarrassing to like. So Steve hid that he liked you. It wasn't until Nancy in high school, when it became cool, that he dated anyone younger than himself.

He wished he'd said something to you then. Would it have saved him a world of hurt? Or would it just have been an even worse broken heart waiting for him?

Steve recalled the way you had looked at him earlier, your eyes practically sparkling and your lips stretching into a gorgeous, content smile. It had stopped his heart to know that he was the reason you looked so happy, that he had brought that smile to your lips and that he had made those smile lines around your eyes appear and that he had been the reason your pupils were blown wide.

Steve shut off the shower and pulled on a new pair of boxers, flopping onto his bed with a content sigh, which matched the happy smile on his face.

You liked him.

Feeling like a teenage girl, Steve rolled until he could hide an excited squeal in his pillow.

You liked him again.

Steve was certain that's what made him so giddy. You'd liked him before he'd become King Steve, before the popularity made him interesting—and you liked him again, now that he'd changed and learned and grown up. Now that he'd learned to be himself without a care in the world for anyone else's opinion.

It was like redemption, but it felt so much better than that.

A sudden feeling overwhelmed Steve.

The next time he saw you, he needed to tell you how he felt about you. He needed to make it clear that Robin's slip-up had not ruined the slow banter, the friendship the two of you had been dancing around.

Resolved, his thoughts stopped spinning. He turned off the lamp on his nightstand and shut his eyes.

Please come back tomorrow, he thought, before falling into a gentle sleep, full of dreams of romanticized meetings, confessions, and kisses.

~❊~

You avoided Scoops for several days, choosing to tough out the warm weather in the overcrowded community pool until your mortification subsided. Robin had called repeatedly to assure you Steve wasn't weirded out or annoyed or embarrassed by your crush on him. In fact, she almost made it sound as if he was pleased by it.

But you still couldn't make yourself go to Scoops Ahoy. Even the mental image of walking in and seeing Steve's face twist with some kind of disgust made your stomach twist.

But a girl could only take so much of Billy Hargrove. So, after nearly a week, you drove to the mall instead of the pool. It still took you nearly ten minutes to force yourself out of your car.

You had thought seeing Steve and Robin in their sailor uniforms had been strange, but there was a far stranger sight directly ahead of you: Robin at the counter, staring in absolute confusion, and Steve jumping with joy at the sight of the small child in the front of the store.

"Henderson!" Steve's smile was huge. The sight made you smile, albeit a bit more confused. "Henderson! He's back, he's back!"

"I'm back! You got the job!"

"I got the job!"

And then, just when you thought this strange scene could not get any weirder, Steve mimed playing a trumpet and both he and the child did a strange miming handshake, giggling all the while.

Robin leaned forward. "How many children are you friends with?"

Steve's overjoyed smile slipped from his face. He gestured to Robin with a strained look on his face, as if he were signaling See what I have to deal with?

"You mean there's more children?" you asked, walking up to them with a shy smile, almost embarrassed to make your return. Your stomach dipped as Steve turned to you, but his smile was back.

"Hey, you're back!" Steve said. "I thought we'd never see you again!"

You shrugged. "Yeah, well, I got tired of Billy flirting with me."

"Max's brother?" the child asked.

You stared at him. "I don't know who that is. Or who you are, actually."

"Oh, I'm—"

"This is Dustin," Steve interrupted. "Dustin Henderson. He's, uh, he's one of my friends." He went behind the counter and started making an ice cream sundae.

You gave Dustin your name and offered him your hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"How do you know Steve?" Dustin asked.

At the same time, both you and Steve pointed to Robin. She waggled her fingers at him.

"I'm going on break," Steve said, handing the sundae to Dustin. "Your turn to man the counter. Come on, Dustin, my treat!"

The two of them slipped into a booth. You leaned against the countertop with a heavy sigh.

"There's like...five or six of them," Robin said. "Kids, I mean. That he's friends with."

"Jesus," you muttered. "How old are these kids?"

"Like...thirteen, maybe?"

"Oh, boy."

Robin giggled. "Looks like you gotta share your man with children now."

You choked. "He's— He's not my man, Robin!" you hissed, your entire body burning. You glanced at Steve, but he was too engrossed in whatever story Dustin was telling him.

"But that's why you're here, isn't it?" Robin asked. "You came back because you're ready to talk to him again, knowing that you like him and he likes you."

You glanced over at Steve. While you observed him, Robin slipped out from behind the counter, quietly humming to herself as she worked.

"Yeah, I mean, sure," he was saying to Dustin. "It's not really a good idea for me though, gotta keep in shape for the ladies." Was it just your imagination, or did his eye stray over toward you?

"Yeah, and how's that working out for you?" Robin teased.

"Ignore her," Steve said quickly.

"She seems cool," Dustin said.

"She's not," Steve said, even quicker. "But, uh, the girl you just met? She's cool. She's really cool." A smile tugged at your lips. You pushed it away as you looked down at the floor, completely missing Steve's lovestruck glance toward you.

Dustin, however, missed nothing, and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really, Steve?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Anyway. So, uh, where are the other knuckleheads?"

"They ditched me yesterday," Dustin said.

"No," Steve said, his face falling. Your heart squeezed at the sight of his empathy. The Steve from high school never would have cared about a kid whose friends had abandoned him, but this Steve did.

"My first day back! Can you believe that shit?"

"Whoa, seriously?!" Steve demanded, incredulous. Your heart warmed once again.

You turned back to Robin. "In answer to your earlier question," you said under your breath, "yes, that is exactly what I'm here to do."

She giggled. "I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" She paused. "Was Billy Hargrove really flirting with you?"

You nodded. "I guess he doesn't really care about high school social status, as long as he gets laid." You shuddered. "I've never felt more objectified in my life, and I pranced around on stage in fishnets and a bodysuit in front of the entire school last year during Chicago!"

"I'm still convinced that was our best show," Robin said.

"I'd like to know how we got the rights to it," you snorted.

"I'd like to know how we convinced Principal Higgins to let us perform it."

You snorted. "Yeah. Has anybody heard anything about next year's shows?"

"Nothing yet," Robin said.

You harrumphed, your gaze sliding back to Steve and Dustin and found them talking in hushed tones. Steve's face was fixed into an expression of embarrassed confusion.

"Oh, got customers, hang on," Robin said, and served them while you moved off to the side, watching Dustin speak behind his hand. Steve just blinked at him and told him to speak up.

"I intercepted a secret Russian communication!" Dustin said, far too loudly.

The entire store went quiet. You and Robin exchanged a glance.

"Jesus, shhhh!" Steve hissed. "Yeah, okay, that's what I thought you said."

Business as normal resumed and Robin's customers headed for their own table.

You cleared your throat. "Well, I guess I should head out—"

"No, no, no, wait! What about Steve?"

"He's busy, Robs," you said, gesturing to him. Your stomach did flips at the cute, teasing little expression on his pretty face as you caught him saying American heroes. You weren't sure you wanted to know what mischief they were getting into. "I'll just...come back tomorrow."

Robin sighed. "Fine. As long as you let me play matchmaker!"

You rolled your eyes. "You've been doing that for the past, what, four years?"

"Yeah, but this time I might actually be successful!"

You shook your head with a smile. "Catch you later, Robin. Bye, Steve!" you added as you walked past.

Steve's head snapped up. He scrambled up from his seat at the booth. "Hey, wait, wait, where are you going?" He caught your arm and your eyes darted to his fingers on you. Every possible excuse was wiped from your head. "I thought you were gonna stay and...hang out for a little while."

You smiled apologetically. "Yeah, I was going to, but your friend just came back, so I figured I'd just come back another time. So you don't have to...divide your already divided attention, y'know?" You gestured back to the counter.

Though there was understanding in Steve's eyes, he still looked disappointed. "Oh...um... Would you—" He cleared his throat, his cheeks gaining a deep pink shade. "Would you maybe wanna hang out together—" He stopped again. "Would you wanna go on a date? With me? Sometime?"

You couldn't stop the smile that stretched across your face. "When?"

"Oh, you know, whenever you want? If you want to, I mean."

You stopped his rambling with a finger against his lips. His eyes widened. "I want to, Steve. I really, really want to. I always have."

He beamed. "Really?"

"Really," you promised. You patted his chest. "Even in this stupid little uniform."

He laughed. "What do you say to...two days from now? Meet me here at the end of my shift so Robin can make fun of us like always—" You laughed with him. "—and then we can go see a movie?" His thumb caressed the skin of your arm. That single touch alone sent butterflies through your stomach, not to mention the beautiful, sappy look in his eyes.

"I'd like that," you said. "I'd like that a lot."

"And, um, if you'd like, there's a little dinner about ten minutes from here with awesome milkshakes we could go to after."

You beamed. "Oh, Steve."

"Yeah?"

"You're absolutely perfect," you said to him, cupping his cheek and smoothing your fingers over his skin. He hummed happily. "Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I... Do you... Can we kiss? I know it's soon, it's just... I've wanted this for a long time."

Steve beamed. He leaned in, cupping the back of your head and pulling you into him. His lips touched yours, and you swore your body crackled with electricity. A feeling similar to pins and needles, but far more pleasant, spread throughout you.

He made to pull away. You brought both your hands to his cheeks and held him to you, kissing him for all you were worth.

In the booth, Dustin's mouth dropped open. A grin spread across his face.

At the counter, Robin, who couldn't see the kiss but saw your hands slide into Steve's hair, pulled out her whiteboard and added a singular tally into the 'You Rule' column.

She glanced back at you and Steve. Steve had broken the kiss to tug you close to him, hugging you to his chest. You twisted your hand into his hair, smiling over his shoulder, your eyes closed against the rest of the world.

Robin grinned; she guessed the 'You Suck' tallies didn't matter anymore. Steve had found the one his charm worked on.

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

part 2 coming soon!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

[holdmytesseract]

Hunter & Prey

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N

Summary: On a charity event, you and Loki play a dangerous game of seduction. Who is going to cave first?

Warnings: pining? flirting? sexual tension, very suggestive smut/mild smut, dom!Loki? basically very sexy stuff

Word Count: 2,1k

a/n: Prepare some water, guys. It's going to get hot in here... 👀

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

The whole evening had been nothing more than a game for you and Loki - and the only question was who'd cave first.

Small, secret touches when hopefully no paparazzi was looking your way. Your hand brushing his hand. A finger playing with the black buttons of his black shirt. Or a short tug on his black leather belt to pull him closer - which the god of Mischief only commented with a low chuckle, or an revengeful touch of his own... Fingertips brushing the dip of your lower back or the curve of your hips in a seemingly innocent gesture.

But it wasn't just the touching... The looks you threw each other from across the red carpet, the places you were seated at or the dance floor were borderline G-rated. You could tell that Loki was practically undressing you with his eyes. His gaze lingered on your curves, which got highlighted by the dress you wore perfectly. His piercing blue eyes telling you that he'd drag you away to a hidden corner and have his way with you - if he could. Loki was a master in hiding his thoughts in front everybody else. His desiring looks were meant for you and you only; not once failing to make your knees weak.

The problem was that you weren’t even close at hiding your lustful gazes quite as good as Loki did and therefore it didn't go unnoticed... At least by your best friend...

"Oh for God's sake, babes..." Nat's voice suddenly caused the bubble of fantasies you just swam in to burst. You blinked; head turning to face the Widow. "S-Sorry, what did you just say?" Natasha giggled. "See, that's exactly what I mean." "What?" "Oh no, babes, don't you dare to shit me and play innocent now. I know exactly what's going on in that pretty head of yours." You giggled; "And what would that be, huh?" voice dripping with fake innocence. "Taking a ride on the handsome god over there," she said blatantly; nodding at Loki. "That 'handsome god over there' is my boyfriend, so I have every right to, don't I?"

Your best friend crossed her arms over her chest. "I never said something else, but we're at a charity event, babes. If Tony, Steve - or hence even Fury gets a whiff of this, you two are fucked. Don't forget that sexy Mischief is still 'on probation'. 'Misbehaving' on a important charity event probably isn't playing into his hands. I'm just saying." Her words brought you down to earth a bit. You swallowed, "You're probably right, yeah..." and averted your eyes from Loki's - much to the god's dismay.

You tried very hard to not let your sexual attraction towards Loki get the better of you, but that was everything but easy. Especially not when it was time for him - and Thor to step on the small stage. He moved elegantly - like the prince and god he was. You didn't even have be close to him, exchange fleeting gazes or small touches... The mere look of him was enough to drive you insane this evening.

He was dressed all black for this event. Black, shiny dress shoes. Black suit trousers, which were so well tailored that they left little to imagine; held around his hips by a black leather belt. A tight, perfectly fitting black shirt was neatly tucked inside his trousers; sleeves rolled up.

His hair was tied up into a loose man bun. This hairstyle combined with the slight stubble on his chin and cheeks and the outfit he wore was a dangerous combination. Deathly.

You swallowed hard; feeling your eyes glued onto him; heart beating fast against your chest. You crossed and uncrossed your legs; trying to somehow just cope with the situation you were in.

Turned out, you couldn't.

Unbeknownst to you, oceanic blue eyes were following you...

Biting your lip and wincing at the sound of his deep velvet voice sounding through the speakers, you felt like fainting. You had to get out of here.

"Nat?" You gently elbowed your best friend, who was seated beside you. "Yes?" "I-I, uh, I'll be back in a sec." You stood up; witnessing Nat throwing you a questioning glare. "Restroom," you mouthed, before you piled out of the big ball room and stormed off to the ladies bathroom.

You took a deep breath as you stood hunched over one of the sinks; staring into the mirror in front of you. What did you get yourself into? You asked yourself. Sure, you wanted to play that game - but both, you and Loki forgot the rules.

"Fuck..."

Loki.

Sneaking off with him wasn't an option, but the evening was still young. The event just started. Meaning, you had to put yourself through this for another few hours. There was no other option. No other way out of this...

Your thundering thought got interrupted by the restroom door opening and closing. The clicking of shoes could be heard. No high heels, though. You knew how high heels sounded like... Only dress shoes clicked like that on marble floor. You looked up, head snapping down the rather large room. Toilet stalls were lining the left side, sinks the right - and in the middle... Your eyes widened.

He had a wolfish smile on his lips; nearing you like a predator its prey. "Don't tell me you've been fleeing, my love... Can't you take this little game of us any longer, hm?" Loki took another carefully calculated step towards you.

You winced; wanted nothing more than to let yourself fall into his awaiting arms. You shook your head; trying to keep it cool. "Loki, what... What are you doing here? This is... This is the ladies room! W-What if someone is coming inside?!"

The god only smirked, then casually snapped his fingers; causing the lock on the door to turn. You swallowed.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He stepped even closer; causing you to step back. He was going to trap you. Between him and the wall.

You were fucked.

"U-Uhm, I-I-" You stammered; unable to form words - already.

Loki chuckled deeply and ran a hand over his tied up hair, before it went to his chest. You watched with horror how long fingers worked to undo the first four buttons, which resulted in you getting a delicious sneak peek of his pecs and chest hair.

"Did my presence made you speechless, darling?"

All you were able to do was staring and trying not to drool - or faint.

The closer he got, the more dangerous this situation got for you. You tried to hold on and get a grip, but when his scent wafted over to you and invaded your nostrils, you were done.

Another chuckle rumbled through the god's chest. He was enjoying this.

"I really did render you speechless."

Charred wood, musk, a hit of leather and blood oranges. Gods... You wanted to drown in his scent. In him.

You felt how your legs buckled; knees giving in underneath you.

You gasped; hadn't seen that coming. You should have.

You were already prepared to hit the harsh ground, when you felt suddenly two strong hands on your hips; keeping you from falling and pinning you against the white wall. You gasped at his touch; only noticed now how close Loki really was.

"I got you, love." He breathed into your ear and helping you to stand properly again. Once the god made sure that both your feet were touching the ground, one of his hand engulfed both your hands. You met his eyes - and for one tiny, foolish moment, you thought that he'd finally show mercy on you, but then he roughly pinned your hands against the wall above your head with his forearm, giving him the chance to lean in even closer.

"L-Loki-" "Shhh," he hushed you; lips ghosting over your neck. "Don't speak, my love... Just feel..." He started to pepper your skin with kisses. Gently, at first, before they became more demanding. More passionate. Loki nipped and even bit the sensitive area, only to sooth it with his hot tongue a second later. You whimpered; had turned putty in the god's hands already ages ago.

You were lost. Lost in his touch. Lost in his kiss. Lost in him.

When Loki was satisfied with bruising your neck, he moved to kiss your lips. "Mhhh," he moaned. "You taste delicious." You could say the same for him.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth; gently biting. Loki growled and tightened the hold he had around your hip, before diving into another kiss.

So lost, that you didn't notice at first, how Loki moved and took a step closer - until you felt his thick thigh brushing the insides of your legs - and not just his thigh... A moan threatened to fall from your lips as you felt him; legs instinctively clenching around his thigh. The only thing which prevented the skin on skin contact, were a few layers of fabric. Your flowy evening dress and his suit trousers.

Fuck...

When the hand which was still curled around your hip began to wander until it cupped your ass and pushed you further onto his thigh, reality suddenly caught up to you.

"L-Loki..." You wiggled your hands and arms; trying to get free of his grasp. "L-Loki, stop," you panted - and he immediately let go of your hands; cupping your waist instead. "W-We can't, babe." The god immediately started to pout. "Why not? I've been trying to hold myself back already the whole evening. I can't do this much longer. You're driving me insane, darling." He dipped his head to lick along the shell of your ear and bucking his hips once more, in order to prove his words.

"F-Fuck, Lokes... You're making things not exactly easier..." You couldn't help but slip your hand behind his body to give his ass a squeeze. Loki jolted; hips bucking again. "I'm making things not easier?" He quipped in a rather high pitched voice. "Darling, if you keep that up, I'm going to ruin those expensive trousers."

You moaned; unable to control it.

"You are still on probation. If Tony, Steve or Fury gets a whiff of what we're about to do, you'll be in serious trouble - and I don't want that." Honest concern was swinging within your voice. Loki sighed and reluctantly slipped his thigh from between your legs and even took a step back, but kept his hands firmly on your waist. "You... You are right. I don't want to risk this. Not now that I finally wooed the woman of my dreams."

"Okay, okay, let's say we're making it both not easier for the other." Your boyfriend smirked; hand playing with the hem of your dress. "Then why don't we just give into it, hm?" You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; trying to keep a cool head - again.

"Babe, we can't fuck in the restroom of a fancy theatre in the middle of New York on a charity event!" Another pout. "Why not? The door is locked. Nobody can-" "Loki..." You said firmly; signalling him that this was serious.

Charmer.

You giggled; blushing. "Let's go back to the others." He nodded. "I really hope this event is over soon... Will be very hard to control myself around you." You pressed a soft kiss on his scruffy cheek; the stinging, tickling sensation stirred again something deep within you. Just image how it would feel between your le-

Goddammit control yourself, Y/N!

"Alright, let's go." He walked over to you. You stared at him; jaw clenched. "Babe... Please... Please never- I repeat, never do that in front of me again or I might reconsider my life choices and jump you right here and now. Are we clear?"

"I-I hope so, too." You adjusted your dress and hair a bit and wiping Loki's lips, in order to get rid of your lipstick, before you went to the door. "Are you coming, babe?" The god nodded absent-mindedly; his gaze directed downwards. "Yes, darling, just give me a moment. I have to..." His large hands tugged and pushed the black fabric; legs bending. "... adjust the package. Unless, people will know or might even get suspicious. We can't have that, right?" Your eyes dropped; following his hands. You just couldn't help it.

Damnit.

Another wolfish grin formed on the god's face. "Yes, ma'am." "Good."

A snap of his fingers unlocked the door again. You opened it; carefully peeking around to see if the coast was clear. It luckily was. So, you stepped out, Loki following you close behind in quiet.

Shortly before you reached the main hall again; you felt Loki's breath tickling the skin of your neck, whispering into your: "Just for your information, darling... I hope you know that you won't leave my bed for the rest of the night as soon as this is over."

A shiver rand down your spine. You smirked. "Sounds promising."

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @km-ffluv @simping-for-marvel @princess-ofthe-pages @huntedmusicgardenn @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokiforever @loz-3 @eleniblue @icytrickster17 @jaguarthecat @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @kimanne723 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @smolvenger @lou12346789 @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @lovingchoices14 @ainsley30 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980

[nburkhardt]

For for the besties: @strangersteddierthings & @i-less-than-three-you

I haven’t written anything in a week, let’s try this thing out again 🫡

“What’s the problem?”

Steve squinted his eyes and held his hand above them blocking out the bright light from the curtains, he dropped his hand against his face, groaning. Pushing himself to flop against his bed, “go away, Bobs”

Robin shoved him over and sat next to him, “nope, you’ve been pouting and as a side affects of being my soulmate, I’m pouting and over it. Sooo, what’s the problem?”

He squeezed his eyes right, moved his head and opened them to find Robin looking at him with an amused expression, “don’t look like you’re pouting”

She rolled her eyes and her expression immediately switched to a sad looking pout, it’s very puppy like and she pulls it off a little too well. “How’s that?”

Huffing a laugh, he moves to his side and eyed a patch on Robin’s jacket, it’s his favorite mostly because it’s Robin’s favorite. It’s a ice cream cone with a poorly drawn crown on top in marker.

“Better”

Robin rolled her eyes and shifted to match him, once settled, she reached over and grabbed his hand, “What’s the problem, babe?”

Steve looked down at their hands, taking a moment to figure out his thoughts. It’s nothing bad, he knows it. It’s probably going to make her laugh at him, because he’s laughed at himself about it. And they definitely share a braincell.

“I….wanna cuddle”

He mutters it without looking, it’s a little weird to admit it out loud for someone else to hear.

“What?” Robin giggles and let’s go of his hand to move his face to look at her, she’s smiling but it’s confused, “There more to that?”

Nodding he shifts his gaze to look anywhere but her eyes, “‘maybe cuddle with Eddie”

Robin gasps and her eyes light up, shaking his head before letting go and sitting up, “Babe! Steve! Really?”

She bounces in place and slapping his back, “we’ve been pouting for hours just because you wanna cuddle with Eddie, our clingy best friend that you’ve been failing to flirt with and absolutely not-so-secretly hiding that you’re in love with, that Eddie?”

Steve shifts to look up at her with a glare, “I haven’t failed, he’s just- I’m not, Birdie!”

Robin looked at him with a wide grin, “Oh, Sailor Boy! But you have and you are! You can’t lie to me, I know you too well and now…” she jumped out of bed and leaned forward to bump him on the shoulder, “now! We’re going to Eddie’s and then I’m ditching you there”

“We are not!”

Steve nearly fell over as Robin pushed him further inside the trailer.

“See you boys later!” She laughed out, pulling the door with a “I want all the details later, Sunflower!”

He glared at the door as it shut and heard Robin’s laughter as she walks away, he heard Eddie clear his throat and Steve shut his eyes, taking a breath before looking up at Eddie. He’s now sitting on the couch looking very confused.

“What the fuck was that Stevie?”

Looking back at the door and rolling his eyes, “That, Eds, was my soulmate ditching me”

Eddie snorted, “I watched the whole thing, honey boy. But why did the resident bird do that?”

Steve felt his cheeks burn, shaking his head before making a beeline for the couch and only to stop directly in front of Eddie. “She had other plans, uh- actually, I don’t know why I said that. She made me come here”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him, “go on”

“Yeah she was tired of me pouting because it was making her pout and so she made me tell her, which, uh, funny thing here-” Steve knows he’s about to ramble his way through this, it’s a side effect of being Robin’s soulmate. “-Is that my problem actually sorta, uh, involves you. And well, she was very happy to well, ditch me here. Which she did already and now I’m, uh,”

It’s a little embarrassing to ramble but he really likes Eddie and he can’t help it sometimes, this metal head

“Steve?”

He snaps his gaze back to Eddie and finds him amused, “Yeah?”

“What’s the problem?”

Instead of answering, he takes a deep breath before dropping down not next to Eddie, but nearly on top of him. Shoving his head into Eddie’s shoulder to hide while wrapping his arms around him. Muttering, “cuddle?”

He feels Eddie start to laugh and gets moved just a little as Eddie moves his arms around him. Steve gets manhandled more into Eddie’s lap and he smiles against Eddie before moving his head to look up at him.

“This all you needed, stevie baby?”

Shaking his head, Steve smiles wide before moving to press his forehead against Eddie’s, “not exactly, kiss me?”

Eddie grins and closes the gap between them and Steve thinks he can get used to this.

~

I…. Don’t know where I was going. Like I said, it’s been a week since I wrote anything. I’ve had major writer’s block (I got all the ideas, words just don’t wanna word) but the besties decided to write all the sad things and one of us has to be the fluffy one. Guess that’s me haha.

I’ll catch them back tho 😏 angst is way easier and I’ve had thoughts about a part 2 for another fic of mine.

Permanent Taglist:

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1

[rogueddie]

Make A Wish T | 654 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is making a birthday extra special

For as long as Steve can remember, Valentines has always been emphasized to him as a special day. A day full of love, and joy, and connection. A day where he could tell anyone that he loves them, even Tommy, and no one would give him so much as a glance.

It's been a while since he's been able to properly celebrate the day though. With the Upside Down, the constant fear that it would come back, that people would get hurt again, always buzzing in the back of his head...

Well, it never felt right.

But, now that it's finally and truly over? He's excited to celebrate. He has his soulmate, the best friend that he could ever wish for and loves with all his heart... and he might have a boyfriend.

"You will have a boyfriend," Robin corrects. "He's been flirting with you for months. If he doesn't make a move first, he'll be stumbling over himself to say yes."

She's right.

He rushes to agree to the date when Steve asks, stuttering in his hurry. But, instead of asking Steve what he has planned, he asks if he can surprise Steve.

"I was thinking about asking you, but... I don't know, I got too nervous, I guess. But it's a good idea, so..."

"Sure, yeah. It'll be nice to be on this end for once."

When Eddie picks him up, he insists that Steve sit in the back of the van so he can't see anything before they arrive.

He climbs over the seats when they do arrive, blindfolding him.

"This way, mind your step, just a little further..." Eddie mumbles, gently leading Steve. "Ok. You ready?"

"Yeah."

When he pulls the blindfold off, there's a burst of noise and color.

They're at the Byers new place. It's covered in decorations, confetti in the air, and everyone stood around cheering.

The banner has a bubbly, colorful, "happy birthday!" drawn on.

"Happy birthday," El says, the first to step up. She holds up a present. "I am very happy to know you."

"Oh. Thanks, El. But, uh..." He glances around, until finally finding Eddie tucked in a corner. "How did you know that today is my birthday?"

"Overheard some old flame of yours one time," Eddie explains. "She was convinced that you two were meant to be, entirely because you were born on valentine's day."

"Seriously?"

"Right?"

"Steve!" Dustin calls, waving him towards the kitchen. "Nevermind that! Come on, we made a cake! And there's presents, but we should do cake first!"

The kids, as it turns out, really did make the kids themselves. It's not bad either, especially after melted chocolate and whip cream is poured over it, almost drowning it.

The gifts from the kids are all homemade.

Steve is sure that they're the best gifts he's ever received.

"Happy birthday," Robin whispers, as she hugs him goodbye. "And good luck, yeah?"

"Won't need it," he whispers back. "This night is too perfect for it to fail now."

He decides to wait until they pull up outside his house. Then, if it works out? They can go inside. If it fails? Easy exit.

But, as soon as they pull up, Eddie beats him to the punch.

"Hey," he starts, nervous. "I hope you enjoyed today and-"

"I did. Really, it was amazing. Thanks, Ed. It means a lot, more than you can imagine."

"It was nothing. It's... I don't want to ruin that if you don't- I won't take it bad, is what I mean. I just think you should know, uh... you're so loved. By, uh, me."

"You love me?"

"Yeah, Steve. I really do, so much."

"I love you too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, dumbass. I asked you on a date."

"... oh, fuck, you did."

Steve laughs, reaching over to grab his collar and drag him into a kiss.

It really is the perfect end to the perfect day.

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve's night is made when his barista ends up sharing a class with him. But Steve's paranoia gets the best of him– can he really trust his gut?

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.66k

warnings: flirting, fluff, hand holding, closeness, steve is adorable when he's nervous, paranoia, unease, cursing, barista lore™

a/n: had fun writing this one as we build up to friday! i might be switching the days/chapters around in the next few, but we'll see. depends on the depravity of my brain 😈

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Thursday.

Learning how to draw, when he already knows how to draw, makes Steve feel bad at drawing.

Sitting in the lecture hall of the art school, he doodles over the half-assed notes he manages to take during the first thirty minutes of class. Usually, he loves Drawing 101; it’s his easiest, only late-night class each week and one of the only times he can relax without worrying about one of the brothers barging in with another stupid homework question. Usually, it's just him, his earbuds turned up a touch too high, and whatever subjects the instructor places in front of him. On Thursday nights, nothing stands between him, an easel, and two straight hours of sketching pots and people. 

Except when a said-Thursday night happens to fall on ‘mandatory lecture’ day.

It hasn’t been an hour when Steve gives up trying to force himself to focus, instead choosing to mindlessly doodle over and around the page. The Drawing 101 guest professor continues to drone on about different types of graphite in the pencils kits Steve and twenty-odd other kids in the course were forced to buy. Steve doesn’t understand– nor does he particularly give a shit– as to why a 3H pencil is better over a 3B pencil, or how using an 8B pencil isn’t preferred over a 7B pencil.

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

Steve sighs, failing to stifle a yawn. No amount of coffee– not even the triple espresso concoction his barista had him try earlier that day– could save him from falling asleep in this godforsaken, decades-old room with dimmed lights and sporadically-filled seats scattered amongst the vast sea of empty ones. Honestly, nobody ever came to monthly lectures, save for when their usual professor mentioned the material would be part of their written midterms. Guest lecturers result in a lesser turnout, too, and Steve partially wishes he’d chosen to spend it back at the café or in the library. As the professor continues on to the next type of pencil, the double doors at the back of the room creak open. Still dazed in a bored stupor, Steve cranes his neck over his shoulder to see which unlucky bastard is almost an hour late to the snoozefest. 

He immediately wakes up, shooting up in his seat as if a bucket of ice water were splashed on him. He can’t believe what he sees: it’s her. Her. His barista. 

Mouth agape, he stares as she slowly closes the doors, careful not to draw too much attention to her late arrival. When nobody bothers to acknowledge her, she makes her way down the carpeted steps of the lecture hall in search of refuge in an empty seat. Her eyes dart across the aisles, desperate for just one, inconspicuous place that will draw the least attention. 

As she combs the rows with a furrowed brow and bottom lip slipping adorably between her teeth, Steve realizes he’s got some sort of a chance. Eyes dart to the professor, then back to her. Steve subtly raises a hand, waving to get her attention. Locking eyes, she finally sees him. Relief and surprise replace her bitten lip with a beaming smile. Steve’s heart soars, skipping far more than several beats. He doesn’t– he can’t– take his eyes off her as she quickly shuffles through the row of seats, plopping down next to him and dropping a tote bag at her feet. She pulls out a purple notebook and pen, slouching back into her seat with a relieved sigh, knee brushing gently against Steve’s. A ghost of the sweetest-smelling perfume drifts into his nostrils and he has the urge to replace his oxygen supply with it.

Steve feels like he’s dreaming. Cloud nine, light as a feather, the whole fucking nine yards. He skims over her features in the dim light of the lecture hall– the curve of her lips as she whispers to herself, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find a blank spot; her eyelashes that flick up and down as she copies down the date and class number. He trails down her neck, crossing over the gold bar necklace she wears every day, to her shoulders and arms, her hands. When his eyes drift back up to her face, she’s staring back. Heat blooms in his cheeks and nerves constrict his chest in embarrassment. She smirks, shaking her head and turning her attention to the professor’s current ramblings on B and HB pencils. Steve opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it.

What would he even say? How would he get away with trying to talk to her in the middle of the lecture? The professor would hear him, he’d get called out, everyone would see him–

She huffs, turning to another blank notebook page. Steve side-eyes her as she quietly tears the page out and scribbles something on the first line. Side-eyeing Steve, a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she discreetly slides the paper over to him.

hi stranger.

Steve can’t help but grin. It spills across his lips as more heat blooms, trailing up his ears and down his neck. Trying not to seem too eager, he clicks his own pen and scrawls a response. The professor’s voice fades into background noise, going through one ear and out the other. He’s a goner and so is Steve.

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

He slides the paper back to her. She scoffs a laugh, smile growing wider. 

last minute class drop + switch. u know how it is.

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

She shakes her head, quickly scribbling when Steve cocks his head, mouthing a ‘what?’

film kid. have to take art class for credit. only one available.

Steve’s surprised at her response, nodding once he thinks it over. It makes sense. 

She makes sense.

It fits her. It fits the way she moves, the way she carries herself, the ease in which she comes up with witty comebacks. It’s then and there Steve really thinks about the contrast between the two of them– the way he’s perceived versus how he perceives her. He’s a frat brother, a six-foot-two guy with muscles he doesn’t know how to use yet, and a lifelong artist who doesn’t fit in– no matter how much he tries to claw and fight his way out of the hole people dig and throw him in.

If anything, he doesn’t make sense. 

Brow furrowing and jaw set, Steve’s caught in the downward spiral he’s been fighting to keep at bay since coming to Richards– since he pledged his life away to Sigma Theta Beta and the never-ending identity crisis the brothers force upon him every waking moment. But, it’s with her that he feels more like himself than anywhere else in the goddamned world. It’s with her he wants to– willingly– be himself. He wants to be himself with her.

He, however, doesn’t realize the hack job he’s performing on his poor cheek tissue until a soft hand covers his, squeezing lightly. Warmth spreads like wildfire across Steve’s skin, breaking him free and bringing him back to the real world. Concern veils over his barista’s expression; her soft, searching gaze jumps between his baby blues.

‘You okay?’ she mouths, studying him, hand still on his. Her brow twitches upwards when he still doesn’t respond. Steve holds up an index finger and goes back to responding on the paper. 

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement. 

same. pencildick up there is putting me to sleep. how do you even do it?

Steve bites a laugh back. 

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

Her smile is bright enough to light up the darkened lecture hall. 

Two whole pages are filled by the time class lets out. Front and back. 

Steve allows his barista to take the lead in following other students out of the lecture hall. Buzzing conversations reveal a shared eagerness to get the hell out of there and go spend the rest of their Thursday night doing something else more worthy of their precious time. Steve slings his bag over his shoulder as he follows close behind, verbally continuing their written conversation about her shift from earlier in the day and swapping ridiculous ways on how they’ll manage to work every type of pencil into their midterm.

As he plods next to her, Steve fights an innate urge to place a light hand on her lower back to guide her out on their way to the parking lot. Instead, he gets the door, jokingly half-bowing with an outstretched arm to the second set of double doors. Continuing out of the building, Steve takes a breath, deciding now is the perfect time to ask if she’s busy tonight. Instead, though, she stops abruptly. Steve runs directly into her, arms jutting out instinctively to steady both of them out of sheer instinct. Grabbing her shoulders, she spins around to face him, closer to his chest than either realized.

Steve feels his ears turn red again. She looks up at him, blinking before taking a step back, lips parting slightly. An awkward beat hangs in the air before Steve clears his throat and rubs his neck.

"You, uh,” he swallows, preparing himself for the inevitable, “You maybe wanna go grab a bite t’eat, or somethin’?" 

Her eyes widen, lips twitching at the corners. She looks like she’s about to answer before quickly realizing something, as if internally scolding herself for even looking excited. Pressing her lips together, her eyes dart back to her phone.

"Shit, I–" she quickly types a response and shoves it back in her pocket, exhaling in frustration. 

"What is it?"

"I would love to, Steve. I really would, but," she closes her eyes and sighs, "I can't. My sisters need me back at the house. They said it’s an ‘emergency.’" She adds sarcastic air quotes, rolling her eyes. 

"Oh!” Relief fills Steve’s chest, thankful she’s not purposefully blowing him off with some shitty excuse. “Okay, no yeah, I–I totally get it, family can be-"

She smiles softly, shaking her head and taking his hand to run a thumb over his knuckles. The gesture is so casual, so soft, yet it sends goosebumps up Steve’s arm. 

"Oh, no. No, they're not my actual sisters. They're, um, my sorority sisters." She flinches as 'sorority' leaves her lips.

Steve blanches, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. He can't help the lopsided smile spreading across his face. He can’t help taking both her hands in his and holding them in excitement. The odds of it– all of it– all the things, of all the people, she’s the one to make him feel less alone. She’s the one that understands everything.

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

"No, I– I completely get it. My frat brothers are insufferable and I'm the newest pledge, so–"

It’s her turn to blanche. "You? You’re a new pledge, too?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I’m required by my scholarship–"

"Oh thank God it's not just me!"

"There's one for sisters, too?" Steve gawks. He’s truly in shock at the audacity of Richards to make any student required to endure the circle of Hell that is Greek life. He squeezes her hands. She matches him.

"Of course there is, meathead,” she snorts. “Title nine, or whatever the hell."

Steve nods. "I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone in this. It's fucked up, but maybe not as much now that I know you're in the same boat as me."

He pulls her ever-so-slightly closer. She lets him.

"Guess that makes you the Jack to my Rose."

Steve furrows his bro, cocking his head like a confused puppy. 

"Oh God– Don't tell me you've never seen Titanic," she gasps, feigning offense and sending Steve off course, thinking he’s fucked up somehow.

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

"I, uh– no, not that I know of. I–I mean I've heard of the Titanic, but I don't remember the– well I know there's a movie, but I–" 

She laughs, full and genuine, stepping forward as her hands leave his, placing one on his shoulder. Her touch is soft, gentle, more comforting than anything he’s ever felt. 

"I'll show ya some time. Don't worry."

Squeezing his bicep, her fingertips glide down to his hand, grazing his fingers for the slightest moment before slipping between them, lacing them together. Electricity shoots up Steve's arm. Without another word she leads him out of the building, walking down the sidewalk lit by the moon rising overhead and scattered street lamps illuminating the parking lot. 

Steve decides then and there he’ll go wherever she takes him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She stops at the edge of the parking lot and turns to him. "This is where I leave ya, my car’s over yonder.” She nods to a blue sedan with a Richards sticker on the back windshield sitting underneath one of the street lamps. “Plus, I’d like to save you walkin’ me to my car for another night.”

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

“Text me, meathead. I'll see ya tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow.”

She releases his hand in slow motion and Steve hopes she’s relishing every bit of physical contact with him as he is with her. He heads to his own car parked in the darker side of the lot under the shadows of the perimeter trees and dimmer lamps, swaying languidly and ambling across the pavement in a trance. Steve makes a note to himself: watch more movies, because he sure feels like he's in one. 

The trance is broken when a split second of what sounds like a scream echoes over the lot and is snuffed out just as abruptly as it started. 

Steve freezes, key halfway into unlocking the driver’s side door. Ears prick up, breath held firm in his chest. Turning over his shoulder, he gasps, startled as a blue car– her car– slowly backs out from under the streetlamp and exits onto the road casually. Steve watches it disappear from view. The sound of the engine gunning it down the road leaves Steve alone in the dark, a sick uneasiness pooling in his gut.

He gets in his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone.

You okay? Did you hear that?

Steve turns the engine over and throws the car into drive, foot hard on the brake before checking her text back. 

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

The uneasiness doesn’t leave him. She doesn’t usually text like that. 

“Fuck, get a grip, Steve,” he mutters to himself, resting his head against the steering wheel. He takes a second to gather himself and calm his nerves. The paranoia he’s been trained to feel thanks to his brothers, in combination with the fear of fucking everything up with his barista tonight, must be mixing together and clashing against every active nerve in his body. He’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s obviously driving right now, of course she wouldn’t fucking text how she normally does. She’s probably using voice text. Calm. Down.

Steve sends another text before tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat, the unease refusing to dissipate. He turns on the radio, turning up the song blasting from the speakers in a sorry attempt to silence his racing thoughts. 

No big deal. Get home safe.

His phone stays silent the rest of the night. It stays silent as he gets home, as he throws a bowl of ramen together, as he throws himself onto his bed and flips open his laptop to watch some random brainrot he finds on Netflix. 

He nods off, letting himself be taken by exhaustion as the uneaten bowl of ramen sits on his desk, growing colder, while the dim computer light and hum of dialogue pull Steve further and further into a dreamless sleep.

His phone dies silently in his hand. 

[intothedysphoria]

The podcast was Steve’s idea.

It had started with a joke from Heather. She’d took one look at Billy and Steve’s accidentally matching gym clothes and told them they looked like a failing alpha bro podcast duo. The type of guys who’d talk about being alpha males. Billy had laughed hard but it had made Steve think.

They’d been best friends since kindergarten and were functionally inseparable. Billy had seen Steve through a long period of deep, dark depression and Steve liked to think he’d helped Billy through Neil. Most podcasts Steve had listened to, the hosts didn’t even sound like they liked each other. They’d be perfect.

It took Steve about a month to convince Billy to put himself in front of a microphone. For a guy with a 300k follower Instagram thirst trap account, Billy was crushingly self conscious about his voice. He’d been on testosterone for three years but still felt like he sounded “clockable.” It wasn’t until Steve promised that if they got even one comment about Billy’s voice, they’d immediately delete the episode, that Billy agreed.

Between the two of them, they had absolutely no qualifications to start an agony aunt podcast. Still, the first episode was released onto Spotify and it had a surprisingly warm reception. Most of their listeners were queer or neurodivergent and were asking about what to do when a hookup went wrong or how to go outside without having a panic attack.

It was heartwarming really, the affect Steve felt that they were having. Two trans guys talking openly about sex, relationships, social faux pas, fitting in and the occasional tangent on oyster forks wasn’t exactly common. And their audience seemed to cling to them like two older brother figures.

It was perfect. Should have been perfect. It was just that there was a bit of a side affect.

As it turned out, spending every week with your best friend, who was physically just your type, and was also just an absolute sweetheart, led to having a crush on said best friend.

That is if you were Steve anyway. Shit.

Most guys on realising they were crushing hard on their best friend probably would have done something normal, like tell him. Not Steve though. Steve endeavoured to lock himself in the broom closet and scream before every recording session of the podcast.

It would work. Hopefully.

Then Billy started getting random listeners proposing to him via email. They’d read them out before every advice segment and Billy would either accept or decline depending on how funny he found it but it still made Steve die a little inside. Billy felt like his in some intangible, indescribable way and even jokes about marriage felt like suffocating.

He redownloaded Grindr the next day. The guys on there left a lot to be desired, especially compared to Billy but at least it stopped Steve from feeling quite so lonely. He flirted, made decisions that made Robin tut and generally started morphing into the kind of hot mess Steve had been in his late teens.

Billy didn’t seem to notice. That is until he did.

Steve was very late for recording the newest episode, a silly one about accents. He hadn’t remembered to shave so the patchy stubble that hrt was helping him grow in was a mess. There was gum stuck to to the bottom of his shoe. Something had gotten spilled on his shirt.

His co host once again looked delicious. Delicious and worried. So worried in fact that he dragged Steve into the very closet that he’d spent almost two months hiding in.

There was only so long Steve could hedge around the issue. Not with Billy worrying about all the things that could have gone wrong, anxious brain in overdrive. Steve had to tell him.

A short, excruciating silence followed after Steve admitted his crush/budding love. One that the slightly irrational part of his mind was convinced would culminate in Billy punching him again.

That didn’t happen.

Instead, Billy called him a dumbass, they made out under a precarious tin of paint for fifteen minutes, and agreed that getting together was long overdue.

The first email they got from a listener after going public about their relationship was short and to the point.

Can I propose to both of you?

I think it was @camaro-and-smokes and @prettyboy-like-you who reblogged being interested in the og post about this idea and since I am a fic writing weirdo, I wanted to write a little ficlet for them! I hope you both like it

(Inspired LOOSELY by the hilarious Help I Sexted My Boss podcast which I adore. Also inspired a smidge by Lust For Life by @oopsiedaisiesbaby)