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wheatnoodle · 10 months

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i love you, evangeline

og post | p1 | p2 | p3 | p4 | p5

~🌷🌻~

“so,” dustin says around a mouthful of french toast that has him spewing crumbs everywhere, “can i ask about…y’know…you becoming…you?”

“yeah, sure. ask away. we didn’t do secrets before this,” evie freezes briefly as she grabs a napkin to give him. her face cringes slightly. “sorry about that, by the way.”

dustin flaps the napkin to wave her worry off. “dude, you could literally get killed if you tell the wrong person.”

“way to remind us,” robin rolls her eyes over her coffee mug.

“anyways!” evie cuts in with a clap of her hands. “your questions?”

“oh! right. i wrote them down,” dustin says and pulls out his phone to open his notes.

“he wrote them down,” robin repeats sarcastically under her breath, earning a snort from evie and a glare from dustin that has her raising her hands in surrender.

dustin takes a sip of his orange juice and clears his throat. “okay. did you know before you left hawkins? how did you figure it out?”

“yeah, i knew before i left. i think right around when the whole…vecna thing happened was when i really understood what was up,” evie nods thoughtfully, “like, i always felt…different? or just lost, i guess. and then with starting to find words to put to my feelings, like transgender and dysphoria, it started to feel like maybe i wasn’t so weird. robin and i went shopping and tried on like skirts and stuff and that was wild. and then i started thinking about all the girls i had dated and what that meant, and honestly, i think i wanted to be them rather than be with them.”

“so if you didn’t want to be with them, are you gay? or…i guess straight? like you like dudes?” dustin asks, his brows drawn as he listens.

“y’know, i haven’t really thought too much about it but…yeah,” she shrugs. “i guess i’d say i’m straight since i like men.”

“cool,” he nods with a smile. “damn, so even as a girl, you and robin still won’t date.”

“oh dude, i was struggling helping her out with everything after her boob job. i swear, i was no better than a man,” robin says across the table.

“she wore an ace bandage as a blind fold,” evie laughs, tossing her head back. dustin giggles as he watches robin pick up the newspaper to smack evie with, her cheeks bright red.

“is it only robin and now me who knows?” he continues along with his questioning.

“you two and my dad’s secretary since he didn’t feel like answering the phone. she congratulated me, by the way,” evie smirks at the end. just picturing her dad’s face if he were to hear the news. the rage, the steam coming from his ears. screams that could be heard blocks away as he throws another lamp. and his loyal secretary of 8 years has already congratulated his daughter and told her how happy she is for her. robin high fives her every time she gets to mention it.

“damn! i cant imagine how much that took for you to cal him. nice work,” dustin smiles proudly. “would you ever want to tell more people from hawkins?”

she’s silent for a minute. it’s something she didn’t think she’d ever consider doing. and yet, she can’t outright say no.

“i think so. someday. i hope.”

“i could…ease them into the idea so it’s less of a shock? just like…gauge where everyone’s head is at in regards to transgender individuals, give you two updates, see where to go from there?” dustin suggests with a shrug. robin’s brows raise under bangs. now that’s an idea she hasn’t had yet.

“that sounds…good,” evie nods confidently after a second, a new smile blooming on her face. robin cheers from her seat and throws her arms in the air. “just be subtle! don’t walk in all ‘hey guys, how do you feel about hypermasculine jocks from small towns turning into women who wanna be barbie?’.”

“oh no, you stole my plan word for word,” dustin rolls his eyes. “no shit i’ll be subtle. it’s a shame a side effect of estrogen isn’t intelligence.”

“don’t forget i’m hosting you,” evie warns with a pointed finger.

“yes, mom,” he sighs heavily, “okay, you can stop me if this is too far. you said you got your boobs done, did you get…like…the surgery? like the surgery?”

“not too far, honestly. yeah, i got it about…a year ago, actually! ahh happy birthday to me!” evie claps excitedly.

“does it work?”

“DUSTIN!”

“i just don’t get why he hasn’t said anything. he said he would update us what she’s like, i mean c’mon, he’s the first one invited over! the first one allowed over! he promised to text when he got there, what if something happened? did everyone die? him and robin are silent! nobody answers their texts!”

“eddie! will you please just stop? dustin is fine and i am sure he isn’t wooing your fairy princess, love of your life, big stupid crush, ms evangeline,” gareth groans. he’s laying upside down on the couch in his and eddie’s apartment, curls dangling to the ground. it’s been forever of listening to eddie gush about robin’s roommate and now it’s just even worse with dustin staying with them. the least eddie could do is stop pacing in front of him, he’s making him motion sick watching his legs go back and forth.

finally, eddie flips down next to him with a heavy sigh. he takes a long swig of his beer, effectively draining half of it down his throat, before just staring at the ceiling.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. you’re right. everything’s fine. plus, it’d be pretty fucked of him to go flirt with her when i called dibs.”

“you can’t dibs a woman-“

“yeah, yeah, shut up.” eddie lightly kicks at gareth’s shoulder. he sighs again, his finger fiddling with the wrapper on his beer bottle. “…do you think he’s mentioned me?”

“that’s it, i need a knife.”

~🌷🌻~

taggie waggies:

@lololol-1234 @xo-r4e @paintsplatteredandimperfect @homohomohoe @charlies-candid-corner @tartarusfairy @howincrediblysapphicofyou @steddie-as-they-go @bestwifehaver @sexymothmanincarnate @zoeweee @romanticdestruction @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @breadboi66 @shadowofaliar @mollymawkwrites @lofaewrites @estrellami-1 @ronance-is-my-wife @afewproblems @heartsong18 @discount-izukumidoriya @mightbeasleep @bookbinderbitch @justforthedead89 @onehandedbitch @anxiouseds @sunfloweringstories @cyranyx @thegingerrapunzel @hequet @herebedragons404 @magpiemuseum @scheodingers-muppet @the-ghost-in-your-curtains @background-noise-headache @steddieloverrr @punctualhowell @musical-theatre-gay @its-a-me-a-morgan @chronically-stupid-human @stevesbipanic @says-swag-unironically

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finntheehumaneater · 3 months

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I owe you a black eye and two kisses (pt 9)

(Part one) (part 10)

playlist | pinboard | ao3

(Notes and taglist under the cut)

Steve really was good at looking sad and pathetic. He had showed up at Robin’s doorstep with tears streaming down his face, his hair flopping over in a way that he didn’t, and Mr. Buckley had let him right in and sat him down at the kitchen, getting him something to drink.

Steve wiped his eyes, looking around the kitchen. There were pictures everywhere, some of Mr and Mrs Buckley, some of Robin when she was a kid and her hair was longer. Steve had let her cut it once in the back room of Scoops Ahoy because it had been bugging her.

“I’ll go get Bobby,” he said softly, running his hand over Steve’s shoulder for a moment before heading upstairs. It only took a moment before Steve could hear the footsteps rushing down the stairs, and then there were arms thrown around him, a cheek pressed against his.

“Gods, Dingus, I thought you died!” Robin sobbed, and Steve found it hard to breathe with how tightly she was hugging him, but he just hugged her back, letting out a quiet, broken sob of his own as he shook his head.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” She questioned softly, not pulling away, and Steve struggled to take in a breath at first.

“I—I was at Wayne’s,” he whispered, and he felt Robin go tense and still.

“Wayne’s? Like—Wayne Munson? What were you doing there?”

“Eddie brought me, I—I don’t…” his words caught in his throat. He needed to stop crying. His voice came out as a whisper when he next spoke. “I think I’m in love, Robin…”

“With Wayne?”

“No, with Eddie—“ Steve startled a laugh, pulling away, smiling even though he was sad. He was more than sad, he was ruined. “I mean, Wayne’s good looking, yeah, but…I was talking about Eddie.”

“Oh,” Robin breathed out, looking down. “You love him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t…know what it feels like, really. It was different with Nancy, but…this feels…better. But—but he hates me, Robs, I…I don’t know what to do!”

“I mean, of course he hates you,” Robin stated, shrugging as she grabbed a seat and pulled it next to the chair Steve was sitting in. “You were kind of an asshole to him.”

“I know! But I’ve been nice to him, now! I’ve been trying so hard to just…make him like me, and…” he trailed off when he heard Robin sigh. “What?”

“Steve…being nice to him now doesn’t really make up for what you did before. I mean—it’s great that you’re working towards being a better person and all, but that doesn’t erase what you’ve done in the past.”

Oh. She was right, of course, but it made Steve feel horrible. He had done all of that for nothing. Even if he was better now, Eddie was still going to hate him, no matter what he did.

“Oh, Steve…” Robin whispered, taking his hand gently in hers and sighing again. Steve just shook his head, pulling his head back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have said that—“ Robin started to say, but Steve looked up and took her hand again.

“No, no, you’re right. I’m just being stupid, I—I’m stupid, that’s all. Can’t expect people to like me when I’m horrible, can I?”

Robin’s eyes widened and she shook her head, squeezing Steve’s hand. “You’re not horrible. Or stupid.”

“I am, though, aren’t I?” Steve muttered, giving her a shaky smile. “Can’t even make friends anymore now that I’m not an asshole. The kids don’t want me around anymore because they’re worried I’ll—I don’t even know…and every time I try to talk to someone they look at me like I’m….” He closed his eyes, dropping his head down. “Like I’m stupid. Because I am.”

Robin went silent, and a part of Steve wanted her to argue—to tell him that he was wrong and that he wasn’t an idiot—but the rest of him wanted her to know that he was right. He wasn’t smart like Dustin or Mike or Nancy or Robin. He asked stupid questions and he said stupid things, and—fuck, he was a dingus, wasn’t he?

“Everyone’s different in their own—“

“Please don’t, Robin,” he begged, his breath hitching. “I don’t want hear that I’m special or I’m different, I—I’m not. There’s nothing fucking special about me. I’m—I’m Steve fucking Harrington, the rich asshole kid who’s parents don’t even love him—“

“Shut up,” Robin snapped, glaring at him. He flinched, looking away as a few tears fell down his cheeks, and her tone softened, bringing his hand to her chest. “You’re none of those things, okay? And I’m not going to tell you what you are, because you need to realize that for yourself. Understand?”

Steve nodded, and Robin pulled him in for a hug, letting him cry against her shirt, his whole body shaking as she held him. He wanted to stop crying, but he couldn’t. He could have lost her at Starcourt. He could of lost his best fucking friend before he really got a chance to get to know her. And they were still getting to know each other, really—still figuring out what was okay and what wasn’t, when to back off and when to keep pushing.

“I should apologize to him—“ Steve finally chokes out, but Robin cuts him off again.

“Did you do anything wrong?”

“I…no, but..”

“Then you’re not apologizing to him, Dingus,” she says simply, one hand coming up to tug at the sleeve of his shirt, and Steve smiled.

She was right, again. Eddie would have to come to him and apologize. And Steve would wait here—for as long as Mr. And Mrs. Buckley would let him—until Eddie did.

Slightly shorter bit today, y’all, because the next part will be longer than usual and I am so fucking tired today :)

taglist, which is open:

@estrellami-1

@randombibitch

@insteviewetrust

@anne-bennett-cosplayer

@hack-saw2004

@lolawonsstuff

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@slowandsteddie

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@littlebluejane

@zombiethingy

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@foundintheshadows (maybe??)

@archermightbegay

@queenie-ofthe-void

@saramelaniemoon

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katyawriteswhump · 3 months

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the power of love, part 3 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part one Part two Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

Chapter Three

Eddie POV

“You wanna thank me for saving your life, Munson? Then stop trying to ditch me.”

Steve sinks a little deeper into the couch, and his eyes flutter closed.

“Steve?” Eddie flails, then, before he knows it, he reaches out, brushing Steve’s hair from his clammy brow. He cups his face and gently jostles him. “Steve! Shit, you with me?”

“Stop hassling me,” Steve mumbles. He’s turned a shade paler, if that was even possible.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Robin finally returns with the bandages. “Steve?”

“Jesus, will you both stop yelling?” Steve moans softly. “Just… gimme a minute, okay?”

“Okay. I’m gonna try bandaging him up,” says Robin to Eddie. “Go find a blanket. You didn’t notice he’s massively shivering?”

Telling her how Steve took a turn for the worse real quick feels like a weak excuse. “Yeah. Blanket. Right.”

“Oh, and clean clothes. For both of you. Something for me, too? And… Oh my God, I guess we need supplies for a road trip.”

Eddie grabs the cover from Steve’ bed, some clothes already laid out, and delivers them downstairs. Steve mutters his thanks and drags the pants on, while the others avert their gazes uncomfortably. He collapses back down onto the couch.

He’s stopped bitching. It must be bad.

Robin places a dressing over Steve’s wound, unfurls a long bandage. Eddie has to admit—he’s astonished by how collected she is. Granted, like earlier, she pulls a spectacular spectrum of grossed-out faces. Eddie sees how tender she’s trying to be, as she helps Steve to sit, starts winding the bandage around his midriff. And he gets it.

Dammit, how did some guy he loved to hate, turn out to be so easy to like?

Still jealous, Harrington.

Also, though the poor guy is struggling to remain conscious, Eddie still struggles not to ogle that body. Steve’s chest really is mega-hot. And how the heck can somebody’s wet hair retain so much shape and volume?

“You gonna go get those supplies,” asks Robin, “or stand there and gawp till Vecna swallows Hawkins whole?”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut, scurries off.

Rifling through Steve’s stuff feels totally audacious. While Steve’s bikini girl posters are not to his taste–cringe!–he’s not un-enjoying himself. He literally breathes in Steve on everything—his premium-brand clothes, the bedding, the whole room. And woah, what has his life come to when Eddie Munson is intimate enough with Steve Harrington to dig his scent?

He drags off his ruined Hellfire Club t-shirt over his head—not without a pang, because all the scrubbing in the world’s not gonna save that pretty baby. He catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror, and staggers back into the bed. Woah!

His hair is a car-wreck, his torso a mass of red wheals and scratches. Yet that truly is all his injuries are. They scarcely overshadow his ink. He sorts out his hair, for which Steve possesses some truly excellent tools of the trade, and then discovers Steve owns a thick leather belt with a chunky silver buckle that isn’t entirely un-metal. He looks weird and almost preppy in Steve’s clean, crisp clothes, but…

… you’re still gonna stick out like a long-haired loon’s sore thumb.

He locates a roomy woolly hat, bundles his hair up beneath it, and grabs the rest of the supplies.

Downstairs, Robin fiddles to tie the ends of Steve’s fresh bandages. Steve, meanwhile, lies partially beneath the blanket, his arm flung across his face. Eddie’s alarm spikes, though he tries to keep it light: “For a self-confessed hater of bodily fluids, you are smashing it outta the stadium today, Buckley.”

She glances up, a portrait of anguish. “He’s getting worse.”

“Stop worrying,” mumbles Steve, sliding his hand from his eyes. Then his head flops limply to one side.

“Steve!” Robin shakes him. “Eddie, he’s out for the count! What do we do? Henderson just radioed, and there’s like, army guys in town, going house to house. He’s heard your name and Steve’s in radio chatter, which means Steve is right. They know he’s been helping you, probably me too. It’s only a matter of time before…”

Eddie tunes out, in order to control his own ballooning panic. Then he puffs out his cheeks, steels his resolution. “You two should stay. He needs help, and he’s in no way as much trouble as I am.”

“Steve really, really doesn’t wanna be arrested. He thinks we should stick together unless there’s absolutely no choice, and… where he goes, I go.”

“Seriously?”

“I made a promise! Oh, and obviously, going on the run with two guys riddled with possibly rabid bat-bites has always been a dream of mine.”

While he searches for car-keys, Eddie considers making a solo run for it. Astonishingly, though, he simply can’t do it. “Eddie the Banished might be back,” he mutters to himself, “but he doesn’t flee from friends in need anymore.”

They haul Steve up between them, each hooking an arm over their shoulders. In the garage, they manage to wrangle him into the backseat of a Lincoln Continental that JR Ewing would be totally proud of. Like most of the Harringtons’ possessions, it makes Eddie wanna hurl. They shove the supplies in the trunk, fix a couple of bikes to the roof.

“You sure you can drive this thing?” Robin slides into the backseat, awkwardly manoeuvring Steve’s head and shoulders in her lap.

“No sweat.” Eddie beams at her, like he means it. “One issue—how does this colossus start when you don’t have to hotwire it?”

After a few minutes, and a helluva lot of grinding in the gearbox, Eddie pulls jerkily off up the driveway. After that, they barely go a block before hitting trouble. Flashing emergency vehicle lights blind them at every turn, army trucks roll by, and the quickest routes out of town have been ruined by the earthquake or roadblocked anyway. Eddie performs a clumsy U-turn and heads back the way they came.

“Shiiiiit, what we gonna do?”

“Eddie, he’s awake, but he’s gone really cold. Steve? Steve! He’s trying to tell me something.”

“Drop him off at the nearest hospital?”

“He made me promise,” hisses Robin, though she sounds more doubtful than ever. Then, to Steve, “Shhh, take it easy. Don’t try and… huh?”

Eddie drives randomly, avoids another roadblock, where the earthquake has swallowed a whole street. Robin says, “He wants us to go toward Lover’s Lake.”

“Whut? Oh, screw it. Why not? I’ve got a creeping suspicion this is gonna end in disaster, whatever we do.”

As they drive, several more emergency vehicles tear past. Each time, Eddie’s heart lurches to his mouth, and he further trashes the Lincoln’s gearbox. Somehow, though, they reach the wooded road that leads toward the lake. Robin is in full-on panic mode: “Eddie, he’s barely breathing.”

“Okay, okay, keep calm.” Eddie’s instructing himself every bit as much as her. “We’re nearly there. Nearly there, ’kay?”

When they pull up on the closet verge to the lake, he realises they’re screwed. Searchlights streak the forest. Clearly, manpower is pouring into Hawkins from all over the State, for disaster search and rescue… and to capture and destroy satanic ol’ me. Oh, and Steve Harrington, my unlikely henchman.

He twists to where Robin is desperately cuddling Steve to her.

“Robin, there’s no way we can get him to the lake without—”

“He seems better,” she says. “He’s breathing evenly again, like he’s sleeping rather than…”

…dying? A thick lump clogs Eddie’s throat.

“…than wheezing and gasping,” she finishes. “He’s getting warmer again, too.” A flashlight streaks the hood. “Oh shit, shit, shitbirds! They’re getting near! What do we do?”

Somebody is indeed getting waaaay too close, and Eddie is at last on a relatively clear road out of town. He makes an executive decision, presses the pedal to the metal, and drives hard into the night.

Part 4

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

tags: @estrellami-1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far.

#steddie #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie #stranger things fanfic #stobin fanfic #stobin friendship #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #stobin #steve harrington hc #steve harrington hurt/comfort #stobin fic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things

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girlbossnezuko · 5 months

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Stobin Mandalorian AU part 1

(aka s3 stobin accidentally acquire a magic baby)

[part 2] [part 3]

It’s Robin that first hears the baby crying. She insists it’s coming from the vents on her right side — Steve’s left — but the concussion’s left everything kind of soupy so it takes him a few minutes to pick it out from the ever-present hum of the gate-laser and the rush of blood through his own ears. Once he notices it though, it’s hard to stop.

It’s a sad, lonely sort of crying that makes his heart ache. Robin makes a dubious sort of noise when he mentions this and insists that it’s probably just hungry — which Steve has to admit is likely, none of the Russians they’ve met so far can really be described as ‘nurturing’ — but something in his gut tells him that’s not it.

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything before the Russians come back with the doctor, and then they have a whole new set of problems to worry about.

The mysterious blue goop makes everything a million times soupier and having pliers around his fingernail is not great, but then Dustin and Erica are there and everything’s great again. Super great, even.

“Can you two hurry up?” Dustin hisses, pulling Steve upright when he starts to list to the side.

It’s a little difficult to navigate when your head is soup and your bones are blue and goopy and you’re bleeding from at least three places you weren’t bleeding from this morning, and Steve makes a valiant attempt to tell Dustin this because it’s important information he needs to know. He starts, then stops because he can barely hear himself over the siren and honestly this is just like earlier when he was trying to hear the— oh right.

“Baby,” Steve says, and Robin whips her head around in slow motion to stare at the vent.

“Did you just call me a baby?” Dustin demands, shoving them into the hallway.

“Nooo, no, no,” Steve insists. He takes two steps in the direction Dustin is going, then checks to see where the vent leads. It’s going in the other direction. He turns around. “Baby. The baby. Gotta get the baby.”

“It’s hungry,” Robin says decisively, even though Steve’s almost positive that’s not the problem.

“I don’t know why these two idiots are so focused on it but I did hear a baby,” Erica says, and Dustin groans.

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I was the only one around here with working ears,” she says scathingly. “Clearly I was wrong.”

Steve and Robin are already halfway down the hall. Robin stops, cocking her head like a bird, and gasps.

“I hear it! This way!”

She books it around a corner, and she might be only going half as fast as she usually does but she’s still a lot faster than Steve. He stumbles after her, clutching at the weird tubes on the wall for support.

“Get back here!” Dustin hisses, tugging at Steve’s arm. “We have to go!”

“Steve!” Robin shouts at the top of her lungs. “I found the baby!”

Steve manages to drag both himself and Dustin around the corner and into a small room with a metal door. Clearly he needs to start making Dustin exercise because he should not be weaker than Steve is when his bones are soup. Dustin should have solid bones — he drinks a lot of milk, and it’s like, scientifically proven that milk makes your bones stronger. It’s that vitamin — or is it a mineral? Ca— Cancer? No, wrong one. Ca-something. Robin would know.

Anyway Dustin has strong bones so obviously it’s a muscle thing that’s the reason why his arms are really weak and Steve should make him play basketball about it.

Robin’s holding a baby.

“Put that down,” Dustin insists, letting go of Steve to gesture at Robin. She pouts and cuddles the baby closer.

It’s such a cute, perfect baby too. Steve stumbles closer so he can look at the perfect baby. It has soft wisps of brown hair and squishy pink cheeks, and when Robin smooths a thumb over those squishy baby cheeks it stops crying and opens its big brown eyes.

“Steve,” Robin says, staring at him with her own wide eyes, “it’s a girl baby.”

“She’s perfect,” Steve whispers, and he wants to hold her so so bad but he can’t even hold himself up right now and the only thing worse than not holding her is dropping her so he has to leave her with Robin even though it kind of makes him want to cry.

He’s always wanted a baby.

“Okay,” he turns back to Dustin, who’s looking very stressed. “Now we can go.”

“What do you mean ‘now we can go’?”

“We have the baby, let’s go!”

“We can’t just steal a baby!”

“Yes we can,” Robin says, and starts walking out the door. “See? We’re stealing her. Easy peasy.”

“But—!”

“Let’s go, nerd!” Erica says, shoving them all out of the room. “Cry about it later, we need to leave!”

Steve stops to grab a few baby things, though there isn’t much. A white blanket, a few cloth diapers, and a thick stack of folders — the last of which aren’t baby things, but he assumes they’ll be important anyway. The stitching on the corner of the blanket reads ‘Два’, the same as the label on her metal crib.

“Aba,” he mutters, following them to the weird red car. “Like the band?”

Well, it’s probably a beautiful name for a baby girl. In Russian.

[part 2]

#I’ve literally been thinking abt this fic concept for months #stobin with a baby is taking up some serious real estate in my brain rn #and hopefully now in yours!!! you’re so welcome (I’m so sorry)#stobin mandalorian au #<— dedicated tag for this series (for whenever I continue)#I might post this on ao3 once I have enough written but for now it’s going here #as a sort of palate cleanser to get my mojo back for dear cassandra (hopefully)#and!! ascu part 3 (featuring our favourite dead cheerleader chrissy cunningham!)#the greatest qpr hawkins has ever seen #<— stobin tag #envy writes #stranger things #stranger things fic #stobin fanfic #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley

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palmtreesx3 · 10 months

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Prologue

SexShop!Steve x Reader : SexShop!Robin x OC

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Steve and Robin have about had it with Hawkins, so on Robin's 25th birthday, the pair decides that there's nothing holding them there anymore and they start packing their bags. The friends move to Chicago and quickly find an apartment to call their own. As luck would have it, Robin stumbles on a no-strings-attached job offer for both of them - what could be better?! Now just to break the news to Steve…. This multi part story will both explore their platonic relationship and their chaotic experience working at the sex shop together as well as their own paths of self discovery as they plant their roots in their new city and finally deal with the invisible baggage they drug along with them when they moved.

Warnings: no warnings...this time. Some non cannon relationships in this AU but cannon themes and Easter eggs a-plenty.

Chicago: Summer of 1993

It's only his 5th trip up and down the steps in the last hour, and Steve has about had it. Being left to haul a car full of Robin's personal belongings and boxes up the three flights of spiraling staircases to their brand new apartment building while she goes off in search of dinner and some help wanted signs seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn't until he opened the hatch and saw how MUCH she actually packed did he immediately regret his choice to stay behind. He stood there regretting his current situation in an unfamiliar, bustling and loud city while sweat beaded on his hairline and flush spread across his cheeks in the humid June air.

Muttering to himself as he passes a redheaded teen girl carrying a skateboard who refuses to get out of his way on the staircase, he finally pushes his way through their doorway and he's thankful to feel the window unit he threw in first thing after they arrived starting to rev up and cool down the space. Steve repositions the particularly heavy box full of Robin's things on his hip while he reaches over for his cup of iced water setting on the counter and pooling condensation. Desperate for the reprieve, Steve gulps down an extra large sip and attempts to swallow but all sense of relief washes away as something slams into his whole left side. The glass he is holding ricochets down to the ground while Robin's box of nostalgic memorabilia topples over and spills out too. Hawkins High all over the floor.

"Jesus Christ, Robbie, what the hell!?"

Bending over to start collecting all of Robin's teenage memories, the last threads holding her down to a town that didn't love her as much as she loved it - Steve doesn't hear anything she says when she first lifts her fists over her head and into the air in celebration - barely registering that she body checked the boy as she threw open the door.

"Rob. Robbie, what the fuck are you saying? You're doing the thing… " he waves his hand in her general direction.

"Oh fuck, sorry." Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath to regroup, realizing now that she came in making a whole lot of noise and saying not a damn thing at all.

She takes a deep breath and with a gleam behind her eye proclaims "I landed us a job, Dingus!" Both fists jolting upwards into the air again, he now sees the job applications crumpled up in her fists and yielded like torches.

"Dude, gimmie that." Steve says. "You're gonna ruin it before I can even fill it out. We can't start a new job being that unprofessional. Christ… . What are we doing anyway? Gotta be better than that restaurant gig we both bombed before we left Indiana."

"Ok so, yeah, yeah this has the potential to be better than that. Definitely better than Family Video. For sure. And there's no stupid costume like Scoops. God. That sucked. We should pretty much know how to do a lot of it already and the manager seems like he's kinda chill. I told him I don't really know much about the ... uh...topic…but uh…that I'm a fast learner and he said we start on Monday and to bring the paperwork with us." She rambles, motioning to the pages Steve now holds in his hand.

"O-oh kay Robin. Details please. You know them in your head but I don't yet. You-you gotta share."

"Ha! Yeah! Sorry about that, I mean…." while she trails off and starts to fidget, Steve immediately knows there's more to the story.

"Robbie. What are you not telling me? "

"It's called The Hideout. It's on Clark St, just a few streets over. 20 minutes walking - tops."

"20 minutes is doable." he says, and then quips back "Man, don't tell me it's a restaurant. I really didn't want to eat shit at that job all over again. I guess I'll take what I can get so we can at least get on our feet… "

" It'snotarestaurantit'sasexshop!" Robin blurts out in one rushed garble of words.

"I'm sorry, WHAT did you say?" Steve stands with his hands on his hips, looking at her incredulously. "Did you say SEX SHOP?"

Steve is freaking out. He's immediately embarrassed for something he hasn't even done yet. He can feel the tips of his ears going hot and shades of red staining his face and neck in splotches. Are those hives? She's giving me hives, he thinks to himself.

"What am I supposed to tell people when they ask what I do?! What are we supposed to tell the kids back home when they start to call non-stop? What am I supposed to say to my DAD, Robin?" He can feel her mere existance giving him heart palpitations while she looks on at him sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders. All he can do is focus on his breathing so he doesn't blow a gasket on his friend.

Among the myriad of other things this move has going for the pair, Robin sees moving to Chicago as her opportunity to live who she is out loud and finally be free of the confines a small town puts on someone who looks a little different, thinks a little different and loves a little different. Steve, just happy for the fresh start and the chance to maybe do things for himself for once, was not really thinking this is how it would all start out, but looking at the excitement on Robin’s face made him soften just a little.

Now pacing back and forth across the entryway to dispel her nervous energy, she looks on at her exasperated friend and he gives her an almost indistinguishable nod of the head in agreement. She smiles softly at him and says, "Anyway, I distinctly remember you once encouraging me to talk about boobies with you, Steve. Lighten up and get ready for tits, dicks…all of it! I'm ready and this city is my sexual awakening!"

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @livsters

#joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve and robin get a job #steve and robin 4l #robin buckley #robin Buckley x oc #sexshop!robin #sexshop!steve #summer in the city #get off!steve #get off!robin #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #stobin fanfic #steve and robin fanfic #steve Harrington x you

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thefreakandthehair · 6 months

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Spring Fanworks Challenge 2023, Part Two [See Part One Here!]

see you at the drive-in (wish I was in your ride), by @hexiewrites | steddie, fic, explicit

You Know Where to Find Me St. Patrick's Day '85, by @rindecision | steddie, fic, explicit

baby, it's just me and you, by @itsfreakingbats | stargyle, fic, teen & up

come lie down with me, I'll read it to you, by @vampeddie | steddie, fic, teen & up

I like that color, it really suits you, by @daysarestranger | steddie, fic, general

I feel like a kid again, by @sharpbutsoft | steddie, fic, teen & up

eddie's new cut, by @manda-panda-monium | steddie, fic, teen & up

have you ever? I've always, by @anything-thats-rock-and-roll | stobin, fic, general

skylines, cigarettes, and second chances, by @riality-check | steddie, fic, mature

you remind me of sunshine, by @itsfreakingbats | jargyle, fic, teen & up

thunderstorm, by @sparkle-fiend | steddie, art

love grows (where my rosemary goes), by @stevethehairington | steddie, fic, general

love all things that grow and are not barren, by @corrodedbisexual | steddie, fic, teen & up

Honey, I never drive faster than I can see. Besides that, it's all in the reflexes., by @hellfireloserclub | steddie, fic, teen & up

bookstore boy, by @itsfreakingbats | stonathan, edgyle, & ronance, fic, teen & up

candid photo, by @tennant-the-tigger | stobin, art

clouds, by @ahhrenata | steddie, art

cold hands, warm hearts, by @gothbat99 | steddie, fic, teen & up

you were all yellow, by @steddieasitgoes | steddie, fic, mature

stargazing, by @sparkle-fiend | steddie, art

spring fling, by @cobweddie | stargyle, fic, general

listen, I'm a fern, okay? I need sunlight, by @hotluncheddie | steddie, fic, teen & up

haunted, by @steddieonmywaywardson | steddie, fic, teen & up

always, never again, by @fastcardotmp3 | spicy six, fic, teen & up

a jump of faith, by @corrodedbisexual | steddie, fic, teen & up

stuck with you (I want to be), by @slavicviking | steddie, fic, teen & up

I'll wait for you (wait for me), by @horsegirleddiemunson | steddie, fic, general

show me the blueprints, by @thegeinconfiguration | steddie, fic, teen & up

#steddie #stargyle #stobin #stonathan #jargyle #steddie fanfic #stargyle fanfic #stobin fanfic #stonathan fanfic #jargyle fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #lexsspringfanworkschallenge

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jewishrat420 · 2 months

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💫 writing patterns 💫

rules: list the first 10 sentences of your last posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

(tagged by @wynnyfryd <33 thanks wynn)

It’s cold outside. [won’t you stay? (‘til the A.M.)]

Life has never been particularly good to Eddie. [remember me, love (when i’m reborn)]

Eddie has never felt real. [the sweet heat of her breath in my mouth (i’m alive)]

eddie: im coming out of the closet [what’s that sound? (there’s a funny man at my door)]

It’s a stupid idea. [come on, baby (make it hurt so good)]

Eddie moves in with Steve after the Upside Down. [i’m just an animal (looking for a home)]

It’s a tale as old as time. [her eyes look sharp and steady (into the empty parts of me)]

Steve Harrington loves to love. [you said i’m holding onto heartache (you said i wear it like a crown)]

The room is quiet. [share a single bed (and tell each other what we dream about)]

Eddie Munson is many things. [your history of silence won’t do you any good (did you think it would?)]

lmfaoo the pattern is that i always start my fics off with one short sentence cause it's what i know and what i like! amen

tags if you wanna do it too: @pukner @beetlesandstarss @paradimeshifts7 @riality-check @aidaronan @transmascsteveharrington @toburnup @griesly @ghosttotheparty @cheshiredogao3 @eiddets

#writing game #tag game #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steddie headcanon #stobin fic #stobin fanfic #stobin friendship #wlw steddie #ty for the tag wynnnn

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griefabyss69 · 5 months

Text

Ample Fire Within

Hello everybody I hurt my feelings about Steve and so I've decided to inflict that on all of you as well <3

[AO3] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

Platonic Stobin - Rated: G - 1.7K

Angst with a happy ending It's short enough the full thing is under the cut!

"For all of the late night wishing on a star type of bullshit he does, when he's alone in the dark and doesn't even have to properly face himself, let alone anyone else, you'd think he'd be able to handle it when he finally gets what he wants."

You'd think that all of the near-death experiences and injuries and horrible secret knowledge they’d all had would make a group of people like, forthcoming about their feelings.

But when most of those people are hiding deeply under too many layers of irony, insecurity, and maybe an affected teenage distance, feelings come out in stupid little arguments and the decision to be as annoying as possible instead of like.

Talking about it.

The affection is just like that too – drenched in demands - and just like anything, Steve has to assume that being asked for shit means that someone somewhere cares about him.

If they need him, that means they'll think about him, remember him.

It means they won't leave and won't spit his feelings back in his face, drunk off of either expensive wine or spiked punch – he's since forgiven Nancy, and they're good friends, though she could never love him.

Forgiving his mom is something he thinks he'll get around to one day, if she ever gets around to deciding he exists again.

His dad is a lost cause, so he doesn't bother.

---

Robin's hand is tight around his, her nail polish alternating between a shimmery blue and a stark black. It works on her, makes her look cool in the way only she can be.

He studies the difference in their fingers, his nails are neatly trimmed out of habit, though the skin around them peels like he hasn't been taking care of the skin. Hers are doing pretty well, considering she's once again trying to fully kick the habit of biting them.

Despite how much smaller her hands are, he feels like the one who's protected, a bracing grip that keeps him grounded as some of his neighbors head out of the store, the sour feeling of being degraded by nothing but polite conversation about where he might go to school next year and “What are your parents up to these days?” sitting heavy in his guts.

"You want to pick the movie?" Robin asks, adding her other hand into the mix, squeezing his tightly.

He shakes his head, can't stomach the thought of having an opinion on anything right now, on being some kind of real boy who has to make a decision harder than breathe in – good – now breathe out.

She lets go of him to go wander around the shelves, and he misses the comfort deeply, but doesn't say anything about it because he needs to find a way to earn the next one, this one finished with it’s job even if it’s prematurely. He’ll find the next emotional punch he can take and will hope it makes someone notice he could use a hug or something.

He wants to think he's got people in his life now that notice him at least some of the time, really notice him, not like before when he'd sat concussed through his exams and managed to pass because the teachers didn't want to face down the wrath of Harrington Sr.

He tries not to mope, tries to shake everything off, and goes to poke fun at Robin for whatever movie she picked.

---

For all of the late night wishing on a star type of bullshit he does, when he's alone in the dark and doesn't even have to properly face himself, let alone anyone else, you'd think he'd be able to handle it when he finally gets what he wants.

But maybe it's the unexpected timing, or just the way he didn't think they'd ever be those people – but when Robin hugs him goodbye one night, the last one out of the house as Nancy waits up outside to take her home, she murmurs a quiet "Love you" into his shoulder and he only manages to hold himself together by a fucking hair until the door is shut behind her.

He wouldn’t have ever imagined that it would make him crumple to the floor beside the neat rack of shoes he never wears, but he finds himself flat on his ass with his forehead on his knees like someone's packing him away in a box.

Ugly tears already brimming and spilling down his face as his throat closes up around what might just be a banshee's wail.

He knows he's supposed to be happy, and he knows there's a part of him that is, but the rest of him is just hurt – there’s an empty hole that had dug through him until it had grown into a deep well of loneliness, and every little offering of care and attention and love drowns in it.

About thirty minutes and a big pounding headache later, his phone rings, and his voice is rough when he picks up.

"Steve," Robin gasps, out of breath like she'd run to the phone. "What's wrong?"

He frowns, wondering if he sounds that bad.

"Nothing, why?"

"Oh, you just sound… And I'd thought – I just had a feeling in the car and then it got worse and I got worried and I'm sorry I'm sure you're so ready to go get your beauty sleep and I know we'll see each other at work tomorrow – but you sound terrible, Steve. Are you really okay?"

Robin's voice is as soothing as much as it picks at him, all the little threads he'd found on the floor to put himself back together get snatched back up by her soulmate premonition feelings or whatever, and he feels his sore eyes start to sting again.

"Rob, everything's fine," he says, heading to the sink, stretching the phone cord so he can get a cold glass of water. "Just took a little nap."

"Oh, that's good," She sighs, clearly relieved. "I guess… I'll let you go?"

Steve's heart feels full of something that aches, but maybe it's not really in a bad way. He can't tell right now, but he blinks and blinks and blinks until his eyes aren't threatening to un-convince Robin of his fine-ness.

"Yeah, I'll see you in the morning," he says, and pauses, digging his toes into the tile floor to brace himself. "Have good dreams, love you."

Robin's voice is warm and thready when she replies, the phone doing a bad job of replicating it but he can still imagine she's speaking into his shoulder again.

"Love you too, goodnight Steve."

---

He does more crying in the shower, though this time it’s more of a relieved thing.

The little worry in the background of his mind that Robin had said it accidentally earlier is gone – and the larger worry in the front of his mind that he'd somehow ruin their friendship by saying the same thing back at her is gone too.

He's almost excited to get to work tomorrow, though his self esteem hasn't been doing all that great lately, with summer vacation and everyone he went to high school with coming back home from college.

Logically he doesn't care about the judgmental questions and the superior airs they put on, as if surviving another year of schooling could hold a candle to the crazy shit he's survived, but it still like, hurts.

At least the store’s been too busy for them to be scheduled for solo shifts, so he's mostly just working his full day with Robin, and aside from the retail hell of it all, it's been kind of nice just getting to hang out together for hours and hours.

---

Robin's too good at reading him, and he regrets his excitement to see her so soon after his weird love induced meltdown on the welcome mat.

"Oh my God, you lied!" She hisses as he takes his place behind the counter, leaning beside her. "Clearly something was wrong last night."

He knows his eyes are slightly fucked up still, but he's had nights of bad sleep that had him looking worse, so he's truly confused for a moment, and lets her know that, his perplexed frown out in full force as she sets her hands on his shoulders.

"C'mon, the puppy dog eyes aren't going to work," she says, squeezing and shaking him a little bit. "You let me think I was an over-worrier! That I was thinking too much. Tell me, Steve."

He sighs, closes his eyes, and wishes desperately they weren't at work for this.

"Any chance of letting me talk about it in eight hours?"

Robin scoffs, and digs her fingers into the meat of his shoulders.

It's probably meant to hurt, but it's a pleasant pressure, his muscles feeling a little sore from all of the tension he’s been carrying.

"No, tell me now before we have to flip the sign," she says, the little crack in her voice betraying her whole pissed off act.

"Fine just. Don't laugh," he says, wondering if it's more pathetic to ask her not to or more pathetic to experience it if she does.

She raises her eyebrows, eyes lasered in on his as he opens them, and she just looks sad.

"It hurt, you know, in the car. I just… I knew something wasn't okay but I had no idea what it was, but I was sure it was something to do with you," she says, subdued.

The soulmates thing gets pretty freaky sometimes, but Steve's heard of this happening to like, identical twins. So why not him and Robin, honestly?

"Sorry," he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Just uh, when you. Said you loved me."

Robin winces, loosens her grip on his shoulders.

"Not good?" She asks, and Steve frowns.

"No, it was good," he says quickly, doesn't want her to feel bad for saying it, or worse, take it back. "I'm…"

He thinks about it, the little bright spark in his chest that's been flickering, fighting against all of the heaviness and general stress he's been feeling. It grows a little stronger every time he sees her, and he hopes that one day it can be a proper flame.

"It's just been a while," he whispers, thinks that this isn't fair to even tell her. "Since someone's told me that."

It sounds depressing as hell, and truly, despite whatever his 3AM wallowing would have to say about it, he's been doing fine, has a full enough social calendar with his friends.

"Oh," Robin says, the way it hurts as plain as a clear day on her face. "Well, I love you."

Steve finds himself blinking back tears again, and the smile that sneaks up on him feels like the lightening of a burden, an unpacked suitcase.

"I love you too."

#griefabyss69 writing #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stobin fanfiction #stobin fanfic #platonic stobin

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sapp-fic · 4 months

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“vulnerable” | robin buckley

summary: robin gets her period and steve helps her deal with the pain (once he gets over being a dumbass)

tags: platonic stobin, robin buckley

a/n: hiii!! i stole this fic from my own ao3 to get this account going, so you can read it here on ao3 aswell.

Scoops Ahoy was close to being completely full, the line was out the door and on top of everything, Robin felt off. She knew she didn’t have time to dwell on her pains and whatnots so she tried to put her busy-ness to use and distract herself.

Steve, on the other hand, felt great. Getting all these customers meant more tips and more flirting opportunities. His eyes flicked back and forth between the line and the ice cream and measured roughly how many people it would take to finish it off. He craned his neck to see behind him while simultaneously scooping the front customers ice-cream (a middle aged man was not quite the flirting opportunity he’d be into) and noticed Robin holding her stomach discreetly under the counter.

Robin, however, did not know she was doing that - and assumed if the pain wasn’t at the front of her mind then it had gone. Subconsciously, she pressed harder, until it wasn’t so subconscious anymore. Shit. She knew this pain. She knew it like the back of her hand - how had she not have known before (or why had she ignored it, even). And she definitely did not have time to deal with this. There was a literal line up of people depending on her… to serve them ice cream, which she understood was not the most important thing ever, or that she’d ever done, but she didn’t want to cause a fuss.

Steve leant on the counter waiting for the next customer who did not take very long at all. Together, him and Robin could clear this 45 minutes - give or take - but Robin didn’t look like she could last 45 minutes. To Steve, she looked paler than usual and vulnerable. But what did he know, he didn’t even know she was a lesbian for gods sake.

“You okay over there, Robin?” he asked in the least sorry voice he could.

“Fine.”

Well, that’s new.

“You sure?” he masked his concern.

“I said I’m fine, Steve.”

He almost told her she wasn’t. He almost said that she looked unwell. He almost unmasked his concern. But he didn’t.

She did. With not a single thought, she was running. And crying.

That’s new.

Entering the first stall available, she realised how much pain she was in. The cold tiles comforted the muscles in her back, but her stomach stabbed at her.

Back in the shop, Steve was frozen. He went to run with her, but the line. The goddamn line. He needed a break. He picked up the megaphone Dustin had given him for his birthday which he carried everywhere now.

“Scoops Ahoy will be sailing again in 10 minutes.”

“What?” a confused voice from the crowd said.

“No more ice cream for 10 minutes.”

The disappointed and disapproving murmurs from the crowd hummed as he tore off his apron and headed for the bathrooms. He had no idea what he was going to do, but Robin was obviously not okay and being her best friend, he needed to help her.

“Robin?” The door burst open just in time to hear her vomit in the toilet. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

She fixed herself and explained how she was ‘obviously not fine’ in a mocking tone.

“Yeah, I see that. Goddamn, Buckley.”

Another wave of pain shot her whole body. She curled over into a ball.

“Shit, do I need to take you to the hospital?” Steve was clueless.

“No, no, I just need some painkillers”

“You sure, I mean, you seem-“

She just glared at him.

“Fine, fine, painkillers it is. But if you’re still in this much pain…”

“I won’t be,” she ushered him to hurry “just go.”

Steve walked to the nearest drug store and bought the medicine in quite a rush. He has two ticking time bombs - the customers and Robin. But Robin was more important to him.

He got back just in time to hear Robin throwing up again. “Deja Vu.” He knelt down rubbing her back and handing her the pills and a bottle of water.

Robin coughed and fixed herself as she thanked him almost silently. She took the pill and collapsed her body back against the floor. “Fuck.”

“You okay?”

“Clearly”

“Right…” he half laughed. “What do you thinks wrong?”

“Are you seriously that dumb, Steve.”

He just blankly stared.

“I’m…” She almost expected him to fill in the gaps. “…having my…” Nothing. It was getting embarrassing. “period?”

“Oh.”

“Don’t go all weird on me, Harrington, it’s normal.”

“I’m not, I’m not!” he felt accused. “Why would you say that!”

Robin felt a smile curve on her face, but as soon as it was coming, it was going. Steve held her hair back while she held her stomach.

“Right, you’re going home.”

“No, Steve, seriously,” she fixed herself. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Stop talking and get in my car.”

“Don’t we have a job to do?”

“Screw that, look at you.”

She started to get up and winced. Steve carried her to his car, and while she was super embarrassed about being carried in front of a mall full of people she knew, she felt it was kind of sweet, and maybe the only way she could actually leave that bathroom.

“Thank you.” Robin didn’t like being vulnerable, but this was kind of unavoidable now. She was just glad Steve was Steve and not anyone else.

#robin buckley #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fic #robin buckley fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #sickfic #period fic #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin friendship #stobin fanfic

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spicysix · 8 months

Text

all the small things

Steve had a bad day. All he had wanted was for his shift to finally be over so he could come home to her.

rating: G, no warnings word count: 1.2k author's note: happy birthday @stobinesque! i drafted a quick little stobin fluff in your honor, i hope you enjoy it!

↳ read on ao3

Steve had a lonely shift that day.

Sometimes he liked those, liked staying alone with his thoughts, liked being the only one available to help the costumers, liked that Keith had no other option but to rely on him – and so he could prove himself to be a good employee. Usually his lonely shifts were on busy days too, so he wouldn’t stop for a minute, and he liked the rush.

This one hadn’t been a good lonely day.

It had been a slow shift, the hours dragging by and no one to talk to. Keith kept himself locked inside his manager office – Steve was sure he wasn’t doing any actual work in there −, there were few costumers and even Eddie or the kids were too busy to stop by and spend some time with him. All he had wanted the whole day was for his shift to finally be over so he could come home to her.

He parked the bimmer in the garage and let out a sigh, resting his forehead on the steering wheel for a couple of minutes, breathing in and out. His head was starting to throb that uncomfortable pain that he knew would make his night miserable if he didn’t take care of himself soon enough.

Steve finally left the car and entered the house, walking a straight line to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but smile fondly when he saw a bowl standing in the counter, his favorite one – it was pink and had little hand-drawn bright yellow sunflowers, all crooked with uneven curves and finger marks. El made it and gave it to him as a gift on his last birthday.

There was a steamy fog dancing on top of it and as Steve approached the counter, leaving his bag on the floor near the stool, he saw it was his favorite soup – broccoli and peas, pumpkin seeds sprinkled and a basil leaf floating at the center. A spoon carefully placed next to the bowl, and Steve only went around the counter to wash his hands before diving into his meal.

The small radio near the window was on, tuned to Steve’s favorite relaxing station playing soft jazz. The kitchen still smelled good, as if the food had just been prepared, but all the dishes were cleaned and drying near the sink. The soup was warm and it heated him from the inside-out. He stared past the glass of his window as he ate, through his backyard illuminated by the blue glow of the pool, into the woods that housed crickets and cicadas singing along to the wind. His head felt lighter already.

He finished his soup and cleaned his bowl and spoon, leaving them to dry next to the pans and pots. Didn’t bother picking his bag from the floor, and turned off the lights and the radio as he walked towards the stairs.

In the little table that sat in front of the stairs, a bouquet neatly wrapped in newspapers and Steve’s smile grew as he picked it up and brought it closer to his face so he could smell it. Roses had his favorite fragrance. Sweet, homey, soft enough that it wouldn’t trigger him a migraine. They were pink ones, too. Steve loved the pink ones.

A little note on a yellow sticker read ‘Steeb :)’ and it made him chuckle.

He brought them along with him on his way to the bathroom upstairs. He had a vase under the sink that he filled with water before placing the flowers in it, and left them in the counter so he could look at them while he had a bath.

A bath that was practically prepared for him already.

Folded clothes on top of the closed toilet lid, a little transparent bag on top, that, as he opened, he found they carried a delicious mix of chamomile bath salts. He opened the bath tap, poured the salts and waited for it to fill as he got undressed. He dimmed the lights, leaving only the one on top of the mirror on, and relaxed into the hot water as the bubbles made his skin tickle in a nice way.

He scrubbed himself clean with a gentle loofah and played with the bubbles as if he was a kid. When he was clean and his muscles felt relaxed, he opened the drain, got up and dried, and then dressed. She had left him a soft and hideous mint green pair of sweatpants and an old black shirt that, from the demon drawing fading at the front, Steve knew she had stolen from Eddie. He inhaled the laundry softener smell from the fabric with his eyes closed, and exhaled slowly.

He brushed his teeth and didn’t care about his damp hair, put the used clothes in the bin they had for dirty laundry and gave the roses a final sniff before opening the bathroom door, the fog spreading to the hallway.

The door to his bedroom was slightly ajar, the light inside still on, and he opened it slowly and peeked inside. Robin was lying in the middle of his bed, tucked in the covers like a burrito, staring at the door. Steve smiled at the sight.

“Were you waiting for me?” he asked, and she blinked as if coming out of a trance.

“Yeah,” she answered.

Steve approached the bed and she scooted backwards to give him space to lie down next to her. He reached over her body to grab the extra blankets so he could cover himself, and kept his arm around her after he did it. She scooted closer again, her face on his neck and she took a deep breath.

“You smell of chamomile,” she said, and her lips on his skin made Steve giggle with the tickles it gave him.

“As if you didn’t know that already,” he teased and felt her smile. “Thank you for the little gifts.”

She only hummed in response, and Steve gripped her tighter against him.

Steve had a bad day. When he had a bad day, he liked being taken care of, he liked being pampered and spoiled. He never knew how to ask for it, always being the one taking care of others – and he loved that too, would never complain. But sometimes he wanted to be on the other side of things.

Robin had a bad day. It was why she took the day off and wasn’t there to be Steve’s company at his shift. And when she had a bad day, she liked to feel useful. She usually blasted music on the stereo and cleaned and organized her room, practiced the French Horn, or tried to learn something new. She wasn’t at her home though, having slept at Steve’s, and the minute he woke up to go to work alone she knew he’d have a bad day too. That’s how mind-melt they were. To feel useful, she prepared him a night routine for when he came home drained and exhausted as she knew he’d be. Dinner, bath, bought him his favorite flowers.

Steve never knew how to ask someone to take care of him, but with Robin he never had to. She understood him, and she liked taking care of him. It never had to be something big, otherworldly. The small things were good enough, were better than that. They were everything.

Steve turned around and turned off the nightstand lamp.

Robin cuddled further against him and he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“See you tomorrow, Bobbin. I love you.”

“See you tomorrow, Steeb. I love you too.”

Steve closed his eyes.

He had a good night.

#stobin #platonic stobin #steve harrington & robin buckley #stobin fanfic #stobin fic #with a capital p #read 💙#lui writes

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whoopsmorewhump · 4 months

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It's okay just to say 'I'm not okay' (platonic stobin fic)

Robin and Steve feel each other’s pain more than they’ll admit, even to each other. From Whumptober day 30, “It’s okay just to say I’m not okay” bridal carry; plus, another lovely prompt from pearlravenlapis (not quoted here, as it gives too much plot away!)

Rated T; no warnings; Also on AO3.

***

The day had started more than okay.

This adorable girl rocked up at Scoops, with the latest issue of “UFO Reality” tucked under her arm. Robin blurted: “You read it yet? The story on alien skulls inscribed with teeny, snack-sized messages from Elvis totally slayed me dead.”

Dream-girl’s shy smile turned Robin’s knees to jello.

She introduced herself as Maud, and they chatted UFOs for the next forever. Right until a square-jawed, smug-as-hell knucklehead loped into the store, and Maud announced he was her boyfriend.

Now, Robin watched her latest unrequited crush sharing a Strawberry Sundae Extra with her excruciatingly not-worthy-of-her date.

“Seriously, Robin,” said Steve, levelling at her shoulder. “I’ve seen more electricity between a pair of squashed ants. They’re not even talking.”

Robin wasn’t in the mood for chirpy delusion: “That’s because they’re mainlining ice-cream, Steve.”

“She’s hardly stuffing her face. She couldn’t stop blabbering with you.”

Unable to endure the sight any longer, Robin swung her attention onto him. He was chewing on… Hmmm, to be fair, that was only his first banana of the day. Unusual. He dumped half of it, uneaten, on the hatch.

“Did she even actually wanna talk to me?” wondered Robin out loud. “I honestly can’t remember if she got a word in edgeways. You know how it is, when I can’t stop talking. It’s a fault, believe me I know—"

“You were fine. You said stuff. Maud said stuff back. And it’s not a fault—your mom spouts nasty bullshit, you should accept that. My point is, that girl you like totally—”

“—hates me.” Robin sighed.

“No. She’s probably confused.” He sniffed, pushed his hair from his brow. “She should dump that moron’s ass. Who hangs out in an ice-cream joint when it's this damn cold? It’s practically snowing out there."

"It's not cold in here, Steve.”

“It’s goddamn freezing! I mean, it’s this stoopid outfit—what fascist dictator makes their staff wear shorts in winter?”

“Stopped caring. I'm too institutionalised into looking like a dweeb.” She peeped back, to where Maud spooned a cherry into that jack-ass jock’s cakehole. Argh! She wanted to scream. Instead, she mumbled: “Shit-birds, do you think Maud thinks I'm a dweeb?”

“Jesus, how many times? Look, she reads dweeby UFO mags. So do you! Beyond that, I’m not an alien mind-probe, so quit bugging me already.” She gawked at him—wtf? He skittered his fingers over his eyes, groaned. “Sorry. This stupid cold is making me cranky. I honestly reckon Maud liked you. It’s just—”

“—horribly, insanely, eternally complicated?” Her fists clenched so tight her fingernails gouged her palms. On top of it all, she’d suddenly gotten this anxious dread, churning in her gut. Huh? Go figure. “I guess I’ll just keep smiling through. See my customer service smile?”

She bared her teeth maniacally.

“Remind me to get a mask of that for Halloween.”

“That bad, huh?”

He smiled, kinda pensively. “Nah. If I was a babe into babes, I’d still be battering down your door.”

She wanted to hug him then—despite his germs, which she was kinda grateful she hadn’t caught. Yet. A bratty little mall rat clanged on the bell, Steve hurried off to serve, and Robin continued feeling really, really shit. Right up until he caught her in the backroom, dabbing runny eyeliner with her knuckles.

She turned her back on him. Habit, really.

“Hey.” His hand landed softly on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

“Nothing new.” It’s her turn to sniffle.

“Look, I’m sorry I chewed your head off."

“You apologised already, Steve.”

“I’m apologising again. For the whole goddamn human race. I mean, I totally get your thing with UFOs, because, honestly, you deserve another planet. A better one. Worse thing is, I used to think like the dumbest dumbass in this world of crazy, till I met you, and now… Look, things will be better for you someday, because nobody deserves it more. Till then, I know it sounds cliché, but I’m here for you, and I guess… I dunno, when you have this much bullshit to put up with, it's okay just to say you’re not okay sometimes.”

She flung his arms around him and sobbed noisily into his shoulder. He patted her back, then rubbed soothing circles, and she sobbed even harder. She didn’t really know why she was crying. Yeah, what he said touched her deeply. But she’d never been a random public crier, today’s flop was nothing out of the ordinary, and she couldn’t even blame her monthly cycle… Uuuurgh.

She lifted her face, sniffed hard, grimaced. “I made your uniform all soggy.”

“No sweat. I dig your snot.” His sarcasm dropped off: “Any better?”

She shrugged. Superficially, yes, she felt less doom-y. Her catastrophic life remained just that, however, and that weird unfocussed dread loomed ever larger.

He reached into his pocket, brought out a paper napkin. “It’s clean, honest. Although I guess the cost of that hug was probably catching my cold, so who cares, huh?”

“I care.” Ew! “And yeah, that had occurred.” She still couldn’t quite bring herself to regret the hug. However much she hated them with anybody else, she had to admit that it’d released happy chemicals. She blew her nose noisily. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Uh, you’ll probably need another for the eyeliner. There’s black goop, like, everywhere.”

She whipped out a powder compact with a mirror. Oh yeah. She’d gone for the full-on Joker look. Possibly, this was why she averted her despairing attention and started scrutinising Steve.

“Steve, are you okay? You look kinda—”

“—terminally dweeby? Or terminally dweeby and totally wrecked?” Catching his own reflection in the little mirror, he dabbed his slightly-less-buoyant-than-usual hair back into place.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a bit peaky.”

“It’s just this stupid cold. Plus, the crappy lighting in this dump. Seriously, sometimes guys need make-up too.”

She used her mirror to stare at him harder than herself now. Yeah, he looked pale, the shadows around his eyes nearly as shouty as her make-up malfunction. She snapped the mirror closed, spiralled back to face him.

“Steve, something else is wrong, isn’t it?”

“Woah! You’re, like, witchy when you do that, right?”

“Witchy?”

“Okay, maybe a bit psychic.”

“Alien brain-probe-y?”

“Yeah, that too. I mean, I figured I didn’t want to bother you, but…” He threw his hands up in surrender. “Let's just say my father has been extra cranky and disappointed in me lately, even by his short-tempered standards. That means extra shouty, and…” He rubbed his brow wearily. “Makes me feel even shitter about my life, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.” She longed to pay back that hug, though even with Steve, she was too squirmy and inexperienced to initiate one. He left then, anyway, heading back out front.

They were both uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the day. He seemed exhausted, and smothered increasingly regular bouts of coughing. She wanted simply to get home, bypass her mom’s daily character assassination, and then sob and bitch to herself about life in general.

When she finally sank her face into the soon-to-be disgusting and soggy pillow, that feeling of dread overwhelmed her. She simply couldn’t stop worrying about Steve, to the point she felt ill. Which was ridiculous. After all, he was at the end of a phone line, right?

She snuck out past her mom—who was howling her butt off at some screamingly homophobic sit-com—and dialled Steve’s number. When his dad answered, she gritted her teeth, forced herself to be mega polite.

“Hi there, Mr Harrington. Sorry to disturb you. Is Steve there, please? It’s Robin.”

“Robin? Are you the latest girlfriend?”

“No,” she managed to grind out. “I’m the… friend-friend.”

“Don’t try to be cute.” Seriously, I wasn’t! “If you see him, tell him he owes me a thousand bucks.”

The line went dead. Robin dropped the phone, stared at it as it swung from its coiled wire. What just happened?

She went back to her room, sat down on the edge of her bed. If Steve wasn’t in, was he on a date? He hadn’t mentioned one. That said, given her eternal back-catalogue of disaster on the dating song-list—and her latest episode of moping—he probably didn’t want to upset her. She switched off her lamp, tried to sleep.

Impossible.

What his Dad said rankled, and made no sense anyhow. Why did Steve owe him a thousand bucks? That was a year's wages! Then again, Steve had mentioned something a while back about his tightwad parents charging him rent. It was probably what they’d been rowing over.

By the early hours of the morning, that sensation of dread had flourished to the point where she could no longer stand it. Sleep wasn’t happening, so she pulled on a warm coat and scarf, headed out, and grabbed her bike.

Once Henderson had gotten over the initial shock of her tapping on his window at four a.m., he considered her theory seriously enough: “You reckon his parents threw him out, and he’s sleeping rough somewhere,” he clarified, while he unlocked the wheel of his bike. “Why didn’t he tell us?”

“He can be kinda proud like that. Plus, I was having a beyond-horrible day.” She clutched her handlebars ever tighter. Steve hadn’t needed to tell her, anyhow. She’d known, and her anxieties flurried toward panic. He’d been getting up sick, right? As her clouding breath confirmed, tonight was bonkers cold.

Dustin jammed his woolly hat down over his ears. “Right. If you were sleeping rough in Hawkins, where would you go?”

They tried the bus station, the shop fronts on Main Street, even the High School outbuildings. They wound up outside the police station, debating about whether to go in.

“Nobody will take us seriously,” pointed out Dustin. “I mean, he’s not technically missing. We don’t have any evidence that he’s not at home in his bed, comfortably snoring, while we’ve been cycling around freezing our faces off.”

“He’s not,” said Robin, and creepily—witchily? —she’d rarely been more convinced of anything in her life. “He’s in trouble. I know it.”

“Seeing as we’ve looked, basically, everywhere, I’m going to need something a bit more scientific than that.”

“We’ve barely started!” protested Robin, as a police wagon drew up beside. Chief Hopper got out, bleary eyed and with a cigarette hanging from one side of his mouth.

“God, that was a wasted call-out,” he muttered, then, belatedly absorbing who they were, said: “What the heck are you two doing here?”

“Being total idiots!” said Robin, so loudly even the Chief baulked. “It’s so obvious! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

Hopper looked crankier. Dustin gesticulated wildly with his thickly mittened hands: “What!?!”

“His car! His dad said something like, ‘Steve owes me a thousand bucks.’ That’s about the value of his car, right?”

“Steve Harrington?” asked Hopper. “Yeah. Kid’s got a nice set of wheels. Anybody gonna enlighten me what you’re doing here at this godforsaken hour?”

“Steve’s been sleeping rough,” said Robin. “In his car.”

“What? Last night?” Hopper frowned. “Temperatures have been sub-zero.”

“Yeah, we know,” mumbled Dustin. “We also don’t actually know for sure that Steve isn’t home, and this isn’t all in her he—"

“It’s not in my head, Henderson. He’s out there. Chief, you’ve got to help us find him.”

Hopper wearily stubbed out his cigarette, swung open the passenger door. “Get in.”

***

Shivering hurt. His teeth hurt from chattering. As the night got colder, Steve curled up in the backseat of his car and discovered everything hurt.

He never knew cold could feel like this, like how his gran used to describe it—creeping through his veins and into the marrow of his bones. Whatever the heck that was. He was wearing, literally, all his clothes. What the hell else could he do?

He'd used the heater the previous two nights, since he’d taken off from his parents’, basically homeless. Now he was out of gas, and there was no chance of getting a refill can till next payday so…

He curled even tighter, wrapping his arms around himself. Like a hug. He recalled how he and Robin had hugged earlier, how he’d felt better after that, about… everything. Which was stupid. Because it’d solved nothing for either of them. He faintly hoped he hadn’t given Robin his germs. If they even were germs. Who needed germs, when you were this damn freezing?

At length, his fingers and toes stopped hurting and turned numb. Then, at last, he sensed some warmth. Which was weird, but then again, he felt increasingly weird—his skin kinda prickly as if he sweated, then suddenly, he was way too hot. Which was totally nuts, and confusing, but he’d take it. He shrugged off his blanket, which slid into the footwell. He might have removed his scarf, which was getting suffocating, but he was too damn tired.

He slept, shallowly, and the darkness beneath his eyelids grew pitted with white. It wasn’t like snow. Nothing was that yielding or soft. He hadn't the strength left to rub his eyes. He threw all his effort into his next, shallow, whistling breath, and… Christ! It suddenly made sense. He could see his lungs, right? Which was insane, but his fevered little mind saw it anyhow. They seemed all brittle, lined with scratchy glass, scraping and tearing with every breath, until...

An ice-toothed gale blasted him sidelong. Robin's scared face veered up in front of him. Uh, he’s definitely hallucinating, right? Nobody knew he was here; nobody should know. He needed her, though. Kinda figured he’d die here without her, and then… he was just plain scared.

He closed his eyes. Too much. Waaaay too much. And, shit, maybe that wasn’t Robin. Maybe it was her aliens, and those were lights from a spaceship—a UFO?

Somebody—some thing —slid an arm around his shoulder, another under his knees. He was scooped up, and felt the sensation of being carried. His stomach performed a feeble flip. Am I dying? Am I dead? Or am I zooming to another planet!?!

Then nothing. Until…

His lungs still felt too tight. He was lying somewhere warm and soft, however, and the air didn't burn or freeze, nor make him prickle and sweat. In fact, it was kinda soothing and sweet, though it still proved a struggle to get enough.

Somebody squeezed his hand. Somebody or thing was holding his hand! Aliens? If so, why wasn’t he freaking out? He pried his too-sleepy eyelids open. Robin!

"Steve!" She smiled and gave him another squeeze. There was a plastic mask over his mouth and nose, and he lifted a hand to bat it away. She stopped him, settled the mask again. “I’d leave that, it’s the oxygen. You’re okay now. You’re gonna be just fine.”

He tried to talk, though speech wasn’t happening. Just an embarrassing croak. Her make-up was smudged again. He almost forced his dry lips into a smirk. He must look worse, but with Robin, that’s okay.

A nurse turned up, checking his pulse, and the oxygen machine, fluffing the pillows. She talked, but he was too sleepy to listen. Robin bobbed up again, working her face strangely, and he couldn’t read whether she was about to laugh or cry:

"Look, Steve,” she burst out, “yeah, it's okay to not be okay. Next time, can you please be more specific about EXACTLY HOW NOT OKAY YOU ARE."

"Okay," he wheezed, and she started up talking again. Her voice soothed him, even though he was too far gone to listen.

He isn’t okay. He feels weak and jittery and everything aches.

From this new all-time low, he can’t even start to think about what his future might hold without wanting to yell. Which he can't even do! But her, and their friendship—it’s good. Which was probably why, even now, he’s feeling her pain again, just as strong as his. He hated how she suffered every single day, keeping her hopes and dreams a secret. Jesus, whatever hurt her, hurt him, too. And he was stupidly grateful for that, which made no sense either.

Perhaps he should tell her, when he’d gotten his voice back? Before or after he’d thanked her for having somehow saved his life. Or perhaps that would sound crazy and a bit creepy. Or witchy and physic? Huh, hadn’t he accused her of that earlier?

Listening to her talking, he ebbed and sank into somewhere safer and warm.

****

Part of this fic series (whump, platonic stobin & steddie fic)

#stobin fic #stranger things #stobin fanfic #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #steve harrington whump #i love them #whumptober2023 #stobin #platonic with a capital p #steve & robin

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targetf0rce · 8 months

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Ship: Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington

Rating: Gen

Wordcount: 1.7k

“Do you want to hang out with him or take him out on a date, dingus?” "But Jonathan Byers is a boy?" "...Steve?" "Oh..."

#stonathan #stonathan fanfic #steve harrington #jonathan byers #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #jonathan byers fanfic #robin buckley fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stobin fanfic #my writing #targetf0rcefics

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katyawriteswhump · 2 months

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the power of love, part 11 (steddie, steve whump fic, stobin)

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 12 Part 13

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Steve POV

1978—Lover’s Lake

Steve sinks, pulls upward with all he’s got left. He bursts through the surface, screaming: “Dad! Mom! Dad? I’m… lost… Heeeelp!”

The dark waters close seamlessly above his head.

His panic dies quickly, along with the burning pressure in his chest. He sees a swimmer approaching across the depths, like a light rippling through gloom. Their face is kind and strange—he can’t tell if they’re young or really old, or a guy or girl.

“Not yet,” they say. Their arms fold around him, and he’s calm and he isn’t cold.

Until he is.

A thousand icy needles jab at his skin, and he whimpers at the sensation of being dragged, carried. Voices shout in harsh, frightening tones, and then…

Apart from in his dreams, he doesn’t see THEM again for another seven years.

“Who do you work for?” demands that Soviet son-of-a-bitch, for the billionth time.

Steve is tied up, bloodied, not sure if he’s laughing or crying. He’s sure as heck losing his mind, and… wtf?

The other Soviet bastard raises his hand.

“Oh, come on! No, no, no, seriously?”

Steve doesn’t see the blow coming. Pain flashes up and darkness slams down—the darkness of blood, a rising, relentless tide. It washes him back into that calm place, and all his panic and pain float away.

He sees THEM again, in the fearless dark.

“Still not yet,” they whisper.

The echoes hook him back. It’s Robin: “Help, heeeeelp!”

Oh yeah, they’ve been captured by the Soviets.

“My ears are ringing,” he tells her, “I can’t properly breathe, and I feel like my eyes’s about to pop out of my skull. Apart from that, I’m doing pretty good.”

He shouldn’t be, though. If there wasn’t so much else to be shitting himself about, he’d be yelling it loud enough to deafen them both. After that mauling from Hargrove, the doctor’s warning had been brutal. Any more head trauma, and he might have a stroke, a brain bleed, go blind, deaf, lose his memory, go mad. He could even die. He should be dead now, right?

Then it all gets even whackier.

A blue tide rushes through the Soviet base. He yells for Robin, but everything’s already obliterated. The waters carry him along, limbs flailing free, no longer hurting, not even so scared. He knows it’s THEM, although this tsunami isn’t gentle. It’s Niagara levels of powerful and near as water can get to fire and fury.

“You’ll know,” they tell him. “You’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

Then he’s back in the present, slowly waking up.

He figures he’s been dreaming. Yeah, about those evil Soviets, and about… stuff that didn’t happen. Where the hell did that flood and fire crap come from?

“You’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

It’s deeply freaky, and he hates it. And Jesus Christ, why is his shoulder a screaming mess of pain? He opens his eyes.

“Robin?” She’s in her usual spot, sitting on the edge of his bunk.

“Steve? Oh, thank God!”

“What happened this time? I’m so sick of…” He raises his head, flops it back again. There’s a bone-deep ache through his neck and both his arms. His wrists feel mangled. “Shit! Somebody was coming! Did they… Where’s Eddie?”

She puffs through her nostrils. “It’s okay. It was Hopper and El.”

Yeah, that makes some sorta sense. Hopper and Eleven were on the run too, after all. “Where’s Eddie? Is he all right?”

“Don’t ask me. Not spoken to him since he left you unconscious, hanging by one wrist. What was he even thinking?”

Blood rushes to Steve’s face. “That wasn’t entirely his fault. Honestly, I… uh…”

“I don’t care if you begged him on one knee! It was utterly moronic.”

“Listen, I was a moron too—it was matching moronic-ness. We were fooling around, and… Look, I passed out after he left to warn you. Before that, I basically forced him to go.”

“Forced him while roped up? You get yet another pass, Dingus. It’s gonna take a short-to-medium-length Ice Age for him to earn the same.”

Steve sighs hard. He’ll talk her around when he’s gotten the energy.

“Steve, can I ask you something?” She picks at the last flakes of that nail polish..

“If I said ‘no,’ would it make any difference?”

“Do you know anything about the fantastically random rainstorm last night?”

“About the whut?”

His mind starts racing, in sync with his pulse. Trouble is, he’s beginning to get it. He knows that they—that thing in Lover’s Lake—saved his life. More than once. He still hasn’t got a clue about the rain. Or has he?

You freaked out last night, and thunder clouds hijacked your brain.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Jesus, I’m…” Nope, still not great. He slowly sits up. Under the blanket, he’s shirtless. He catches his left arm with his right, cradling it.

“Does your shoulder hurt bad?”

“No, Robin. It’s just randomly gone purple. Gonna be pitching for the Hoosiers this weekend for sure.” He notices one of his wrists is bandaged. “Got any of those left? Guess I’ll need a sling or something.”

“Yeah, I tried the lake water trick. Not much happened this time. On the other hand, Hopper said it was a miracle you didn’t dislocate it, so… I’ll, uh, go get him. He’s got a ton of fresh supplies."

She goes, and Steve painfully eases his way into a clean shirt. It turns out to be another Hellfire Club one, which Eddie brought back from his meet at Skull Rock. Oh genius, Henderson, just brilliant! Get Eddie and me walking around with targets painted on our chests, why don’t you? Worse, I’m gonna look like a nerd. With TERRIBLE HAIR. The effort of getting his sweater on over it all, literally brings tears to his eyes.

Then he sits up straight, on the edge of the bunk. He supports his bad arm, while forcing his features into his best ‘don’t-give-a-damn’ mask.

When Hopper stoops under the door of the bunkroom, Steve’s jaw drops anyhow. He barely recognises the guy. Uh… wow? He’s not wearing a police uniform, but he still looks in goddamn charge, with an Indiana-Jones style hat that screams authority. He’s even gotten his hands on what looks like a police-issue firearm, in a halter at his side.

“Hey,” says Hopper. “You got yourself pretty beat up again, huh?”

“My shoulder hurts,” he whispers. It comes out so humiliatingly shakily, that when Hopper takes off his hat and sits down beside him, Steve looks away sharply. Oh, for Christ’s sake! He sniffs, dabs his eyes, pulls himself together. “It’s not so bad,” he mumbles.

“Yeah? You got tough joints, kid.”

Steve bites his lip to the point of pain.

Hopper’s brought a first-aid kit, and he fashions a sling for him. As he does, he fills Steve in on a few more details of how the hell he came back from the dead. Also, about what’s been going on in Hawkins, which is basically under military occupation. He ties the sling behind Steve’s neck, squeezes his good shoulder. “You take it easy. Sun’s up and we’ll be off in a few minutes.”

Hopper heads out. Steve scowls at his back.

He ought to be relieved Hopper’s here. Admittedly, he’s been a total flop at taking care of himself and the others. Which only makes him more pissed with Hopper. How could somebody go through that in a Soviet gulag, win a wrestling match with demo-gorgons, and still come out alive, swinging, and the toughest dude in the state?

He gets his sneakers on and staggers as far as the door. Robin is loading the remnants of their supplies into an armoured Humvee, painted in military khaki and spattered with mud. Hopper’s fiddling under the hood, and Eleven hovers nearby. She gives Steve a sort-of smile, which he returns, while seething,

That sick son-of-a-bitch Brenner took her hair again?

“Where’s Eddie?” he asks, stepping further out, while fighting a wave of dizziness.

“Skulking,” calls Eddie, sloping out from some hiding spot. Robin folds her arms and stomps away. Steve squelches across the sticky ground toward Eddie. He looks so forlorn—hair flattened like a soggy puppy’s—that Steve can’t help grinning.

“Sorry,” mouths Steve. “Sucky timing, huh?”

Eddie pulls a silly face, which doesn’t reach his pink eyes. Steve edges closer. Eddie shuffles back, looking genuinely spooked, which sends Steve’s mood into free-fall.

He sits down heavily on Eddie’s empty beer-crate and nods at the Humvee. “You guys stole that baby?”

“Had to get around the roadblocks somehow,” says Hopper. “That rain churned up a ton of mud. It’s gonna slow them down, but it’s gonna slow us down too. We gotta move.”

“We? Why are we all going?” Steve hates this idea. Even more than he hates how he’s defaulting to surly teenager mode. He wonders—not for the first time though not for the billionth—if his actual parents have given him up for dead. “Don’t wanna seem ungrateful, Chief, but I really don’t feel like a road trip.”

“O’Sullivan has torn Hawkins apart, searching for El. Next, he’s gonna have the army sweep this whole area. You won’t stand a chance.”

“Can’t we go back to those caves?” Steve mumbles toward his mud-flecked sneakers.

“When they find you,” says Hopper, “best-case scenario—they hand Munson here over the police, or the cronies who count for it these days. Worst case-scenario? O’Sullivan keeps hold of him, as well as you.”

“Why the heck would some army guy be interested in me?”

He senses Hopper close in. “You signed the NDAs, Steve. They know YOU know about Eleven. They’ve interrogated Joyce and Jonathan, but there’s only so much they can do with people they can’t easily ‘disappear.’ If they think you’ve got intel as to her whereabouts… You get where I’m going with this?”

“So what?” Steve can’t look up. Like before, he can’t let Hopper see. “W-won’t be the first time I’ve been tortured.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry, kid. But tough talk ain’t gonna save you.”

“They kill people,” says Eleven. “I didn’t want to run, to leave Mike. To leave Max.” She sounds so very sad. “We had no choice.”

“I honestly don’t think we have much choice either, Steve,” says Robin, emerging from the cabin behind with the blankets. “Hop’s got more bottled water from Lover’s Lake in the truck. If you get sick or hurt, it could help.”

On being reminded of all that shit, Steve rubs his face, groans.

“We gonna talk about that now?” asks Eddie. “You know, the ginormous, soggy elephant spouting water out of its trunk? The one giving Steve buffed-to-the-max powers?”

“Powers?” Steve’s forced laugh comes out way too loud. “El can throw cars around with her mind, rip holes in dimensions. I can heal stuff. A bit. Then I pass out for half a day. It’s pointless.”

“Neeeewsflash,” sings Eddie. “You brought me back from the dead. Not pointless, I hope.”

Steve laughs again, totally hollow. What Eddie says feels fake, somehow. Was that even really him, or… Ugh, his head is too muddled.

“Using my powers tires me out too,” adds Eleven.

“Uh, hello? Can we please discuss the super-magical weather?” Having flung the bedding in the Humvee, Robin flings her arms toward the skies. “Twice, we were in danger. Twice, Steve rearranged the heavens to cover our sorry asses.”

Steve huffs: “Robin, I have no control over—"

“You have to learn control,” says Eleven.

“We can talk about this on the journey.” Hopper takes Steve by the elbow. He urges him to his feet, finally forcing Steve to slam him with a full-on glare. “C’mon, get in.”

Part 12

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 12 Part 13

#steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #stobin fanfic #platonic stobin #stobin #stobin fic #stobin friendship #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington hurt/comfort

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girlbossnezuko · 5 months

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Stobin Mandalorian AU part 2

[part 1] [part 3]

The car ride back to the elevator is not pleasant, Steve needs to stop getting into situations where his brain’s melting too much to stop the kids from driving. Aba doesn’t seem to like it much either, but as long as Robin’s holding her she won’t cry. They narrowly avoid hitting a bunch of barrels right at the end — thank god for Erica. Car crashes can not be good for babies.

Steve and Robin sit huddled in the corner of the elevator the whole ride up, because it isn’t exactly stable either and if either of them drops the baby Steve is going to die. Dustin and Erica won’t stop bickering, but it’s fine because they’re alive and Robin’s alive and the baby’s alive and Steve’s alive to enjoy them all being alive, and they’re finally leaving that stupid Russian bunker.

“What is wrong with you two?” Erica demands.

“They seem drunk.” Dustin frowns, crouching down over Steve. He grabs Steve’s face by the bruises and pushes his eyelids up, which hurts a lot, thank you very much. “His pupils are super dilated, I think they might’ve been drugged. Were you drugged, Steve?”

“No, but they gave us goop,” Steve says helpfully.

He’s seen drugs — Munson keeps a bunch in his lunchbox to sell at parties — and they definitely aren’t blue or goopy. They’re usually like, green and dry. Or white and dry. Or—

“They gave you goop?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he doesn’t nod because the last time he did that it was really not fun. “And now I’m blue. And my bones are soup. Soupy. Not like yours, you have strong bones.”

“They’re definitely drugged,” Erica says, looking down at them with a little too much contempt for a ten-year-old.

“Steve, this is important,” Dustin says, and there’s a tightness around his eyes that Steve would definitely be able to interpret if his brain wasn’t soup. “I need to know where you parked your car.”

“Um,” Steve says. His head is really starting to hurt again. It stopped when they got the goop but the elevator’s bringing it back. “Uh oh.”

“What do you mean ‘uh oh’?”

“Keys are gone.”

He’d turn out his pockets to show Dustin but that would disturb Robin which would disturb the baby, and he really doesn’t want to disturb Aba. She’s too small and tiny and perfect.

“What do you mean the keys are gone?” Dustin grits out.

“The Russians took them, like, forever ago.”

“You stopped to get a whole baby but you didn’t think to get your keys!?”

That’s not even remotely the same thing.

Robin shushes him very loudly, “No shouting, you’ll wake the baby.”

“She’s already awake,” Dustin says, rolling his eyes.

Aba blinks her big brown eyes up at Dustin.

“I can’t believe you two managed to find some random white baby down there,” Erica says, crossing her arms. “I deserve extra ice cream for having to put up with this.”

“The baby is where you draw the line?” Dustin asks, exasperated.

“I can deal with bodily harm and the threat of imminent death,” Erica says. Which, wow. Okay. “What I can’t deal with is changing diapers. I have standards.”

The two of them start bickering again, and Steve takes the opportunity to stare at Aba’s perfect little face. She scrunches her nose at him but smiles when he brushes a finger over one of her soft little cheeks, the way Robin did earlier.

He doesn’t think he’s ever loved anyone this quickly before. His heart feels like it’s about to burst, growing and growing until it fills all the hollows in his chest. It chokes at his throat and makes his bruised ribs throb, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

The moment passes and Dustin’s dragging them all up and out of the elevator again, but his heart doesn’t get any smaller.

Aba makes the tiniest, cutest little gasp when they get out into the fresh air, and he knows exactly how she feels because the air outside tastes wonderful. He’s never appreciated air the way it deserves to be appreciated.

The few stars already out are bright, and Aba stares up at them like she’s never seen anything like them before, and it hits Steve that she might not have. She’s only what, a few months old? How many opportunities would she have gotten to go outside? Was she even born outside the bunker or did they make her as a science baby under Starcourt?

It hurts to have to bring her back inside again. When this is all over, he and Robin are going to take her outside and they’ll spend, like, a whole day out there just enjoying the air, and the sun, and the stars.

Dustin tries to make them sit in the theatre but he barely even cracks the doors open before Steve backs up, shaking his head. Ow.

“Not in there, it’s too loud.” Movie theatres are horrible places for babies. And headaches.

Dustin makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

“Fine,” he says. “Just— sit out here, don’t move. I’ll be back in a minute. Erica, keep watch.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Erica says, but sneaks down to the hall to keep watch anyway.

Steve stares down at the baby again.

“Do you think Aba knows what flowers are?” he asks. Robin scrunches her nose at him.

“What?”

“She’s probably been down there for like, her whole life right? Would the Russians show her flowers?”

“That’s not—” Robin shakes her head, then winces. “What did you call the baby?”

“Aba?” He tilts his head. Robin squints at him. “It’s her name, see?”

He shows her the blanket, and Robin stares at the stitching for a long moment before her eyes go wide and then they go really sad.

“Steve,” she says softly, holding the baby closer, “that’s not her name, it’s a number. It’s pronounced dva, I think. It means ‘two’.”

“Oh.”

Dva. Two. Not Aba, not a name. Just a number, like Eleven.

But they don’t call her Eleven, do they? They call her El. A nickname.

“Abby,” Steve says decisively. Robin makes a questioning noise.

“She needs a nickname, like El, so she can be Abby.”

“Abby,” Robin says softly, looking down at the baby. Abby smiles.

[part 3]

#stobin WOULD accidentally name their baby an anagram for baby #<— bold words from the person who also did this #only realized abby could be an anagram like three days after writing it lmao #also thank you so much to everyone who left such nice comments on the first part??#I wasn’t expecting the response it got but I guess we just all love stobin with babies #don’t worry steve WILL Hold That Baby I promise #stobin mandalorian au #the greatest qpr hawkins has ever seen #envy writes #stranger things #stranger things fic #stobin fanfic #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley

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palmtreesx3 · 10 months

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GET OFF - The V-Card

The V-Card

<- Prologue || Next ->

Series Masterlist

Get in the mood for this installment:

Series Playlist

The V-Card Mood Board

Summary: (3.7k) Everyone is nervous for their first time, right? Steve and Robin are busy tackling a lot of their firsts - first day in the shop, first week in the city, first friends (or something) in the city. It’s all a little intimidating and both quickly find that old habits die hard - particularly for Steve. It’s going to take more than just a new city to really give these two a new life. Be sure to read the Prologue before reading!

Warnings: it's a sex shop, guys - so it's generally just NSFW 18+. In this AU Hawkins is weird and cannon events happen to some extent, but not to all familiar characters. If they are present in Chicago for this AU, they have no ties to Hawkins. Absent parents, excessive drinking, poor coping mechanisms, M/F hookups and implied/light smut, mentions of female oral, our boy on his King Steve shit, one night stands, careless hookups, and a coming out.

Shout out to @loveshotzz for the blatant Whatta Man nod in this chapter. IYKYK.

Chicago: That Saturday, 1993

The sun was beating in through the front apartment window as Steve sat on the couch with a can of High Life, taking a breather from all of the unpacking. He has been hyper-focused all weekend on getting settled and unpacked - a complete 180° from Robin's settling in approach, which looked more like making sure her sheets were on her bed and simply ignoring the rest of the boxes stacked up inside her doorway than anything else.

For a split second Steve considered picking up the phone and calling home just to check in, let his parents know they've got their bearings and are all safe in the city, but as that thought settled, he realized how absolutely ridiculous it was. They never cared where he was and what he was doing before, so there's no reason for them to actually start caring now that he's finally gone. Worming it's way deep in his brain another thought occurs to him - if he just would have packed up and left, it probably would have taken them months to even realize it.

Plus, the second he talks to either one of them he knows they're going to ask about a job, and he's not quite ready for how that conversation might go. Yeah Dad, we're all set, start at the sex shop 10am on Monday! He shakes his head and laughs to himself at the thought before throwing his head back letting the beer, just starting to warm and lose its crispness, run down his throat. It's tasting a bit bitter now…and Steve can relate.

Pulling him from his self-deprecating thoughts, Robin swings open the door with the sound of jangling key chains being shaken like maracas, the soundtrack to her grand entrance.

"Got your keeeeys, Dingus! It's officially official now!" She tosses the key ring over to Steve, who has his eyebrows raised as they land about 5 ft to his left on the other side of the couch.

"Nice one, Robs. Maybe one day we'll find you some aim."

"Long shot, buddy. Better chance of me confidently shooting my shot with Stevie Nicks than that ever happening. But good on you for thinking I have any potential whatsoever."

"S'wat friends are for, Robbie." He grins at her sideways before leaning over to pick up his new set of keys. "The hell is this?" He asks, dangling the keys up in the air.

Hopping up and down with incredibly youthful glee, Robin beams at the boy and exclaims "A TAMAGOTCHI. I got one too. Orange for you. Blue for me. Pretty sure even if we could have a pet in this building it wouldn't end well, so I got us these!"

"This is ridiculous. I can't believe you got us a toy." Robin slips on the couch nestled up close to Steve, pressing the button on both to initiate their hatching as she presses her shoulder into his side. A beat of silence goes by before he throws his arm over her shoulders and says, "Show me how to do it, Robs. Can't wait for mine to outlive yours." He smiles down at her.

"Eat shit. Whoever kills theirs first buys the other a drink."

The twinkling sound signaling the hatching of each of their eggs echoes through the apartment as they eye up their pets and glare back at one another.

"Oh, it's on. Never been more confident about a deal before in my life."

"Speaking of drinks … " Robin muses. " Whaddya wanna do tonight? "

Steve's not quite sure how long it's going to take for him to get used to the sheer quantity of people here in Chicago. He's pretty sure there's as many people in this club right now than there is in the whole of Hawkins.

When they arrived, Steve was feeling a lot. It was overwhelming and nothing in Hawkins flashed so bright and shook so loud… except maybe the 4th of July Carnival and their fireworks on the outskirts of town, but that was nothing compared to this.

One drink in and finding a place to hunker down near the bar at a table, he felt more comfortable. He was enjoying Robin's running commentary while she spent the better part of an hour people-watching, still passively feeling the heat radiating off of the dance floor, when he decided to switch over from the lukewarm beers to a sweet and sharp whiskey and soda.

Three drinks in and sufficiently loose, Robin is fluttering around the edges of the bar and the dance floor - now making friends with some of the people she's been eying up all night with her inhibitions down as far as Steve has ever seen them. He's drunkenly grinning at his friend, happy to see a kind of social side of her that feels new, even though he knows the roots of it have been buried deep inside her for her whole life, interwoven through her heart and her brain stem, just waiting for permission to come out and untangle itself.

"Steve! STEVE!" She shouts over the thumping bass of the music, wildly gesturing for him to come over to where she now stands, in the center of a group of people who look friendly enough for him to oblige.

Four drinks in and now the group is laughing, hollering and leaning in hard to catch an ounce of what the others are saying. Steve's eyes are squinting trying hard to read their new friends lips as they try and converse over shots and the loud music in the dark. Turns out Robin found a whole group of people that live in the same building as they do and, as one does when they're absolutely shit faced, they all immediately began talking about how they're all new best friends, curling arms around one another's necks and slurring "I love you guys" over drinks number five and six.

Steve is feeling a familiar twinge. It's not his fault that he has no idea that there are ways to make friends other than people pleasing or trauma bonding. Now relishing in the ease of finding city-friends over an open drink and the immediacy of acceptance that comes with puffing out his peacock feathers and playing the delicate social hierarchy game he mastered in his teens, he barely even notices that he's dusting off his King Steve party tricks. The stress of the last few years that have him wound up tighter than a watch melt away as the coy and flirty remarks start flowing like a waterfall and the locker room talk comes back like riding a bike.

Six drinks down the hatch and Robin can't find Steve. Any other time, and Robin would be absolutely losing all the marbles in her basket worrying over Steve. Especially in this new city. She'd assume he was dead. That someone finally came to whisk him away and lock him up for all the things that he's not supposed to know. Sure, Steve can handle things. He's definitely the most capable person she knows and he quite literally raised himself, and saved himself more than once, but none of that even matters right now because she's just swaying to the beat of Janet Jackson pumping through the club speakers with her new soulmates who live on the top floor.

Instead Steve is at the bar, queuing up drink number seven for him and drink number who-knows-what for the absolutely smoking girl at his side named Melissa, who apparently lives just up the staircase, too. She's reminded him three times so far that he can just call her Missy, but not without leaning in close, just next to his ear to make sure he hears just how sweet she sounds. And boy does he want to know more about how sweet she sounds.

Steve's eager hands are hooked in her belt loops, the girl's bright red tube top riding up her stomach as she pushes herself into him. Her fingers are tangling through his sweaty hair and his are ghosting over her collarbone and down her arm. His lips are on hers before drink seven is even delivered, so he caps off his night with her tongue down his throat instead.

He has no clue what time it is as they tumble through the apartment door, Melissa Missy still giggling at his orange Tamagotchi keychain as his lips chase hers once again and the door slams shut. Perfect. Robin's not home, he thinks. Completely forgetting he was there at the club with her in the first place, he tugs at the girls long blond hair at the roots, runs his hands over her glistening and glittered shoulders and shoves her down into his plush comforter the second they reach his bedroom.

He's so caught up in this big-city hottie he managed to get into his bed on his first weekend in town, he doesn't hear Robin come in the door, nor does he notice her clanging around the kitchen to chug down a few huge glasses of water in hopes of being at least a little conscious tomorrow morning. Robin, however, does notice Steve clanging around the bedroom, especially after she hears a deep and throaty moan that is unmistakably female.

"Ha. Fuck yeah, Stevie. Losing that Windy City V-Card." She says quietly while wobbling to her room. Meanwhile, Steve's got his head buried deep under the sheets, blindly grasping at the girl's perky tits while he lavishes at the thought of this being the kind of opportunities that present themselves here in Chicago. His first time in this big sprawling city made him feel like he was on top of the world.

The confident bubble he found himself in all night popped when he later woke to feel the warm summer breeze from the open window tickling his now exposed back, comforter slipping down and exposing his hips along with a peek of his ass to the girl who was accidentally pulling it off as she stood up from the bed. Unabashedly naked, she stretches her arms in a yawn, Steve rolls to peek at the clock. 4:36am. "Where are you off to?" his raspy, sleep laden voice cuts the silence as she finds herself caught gathering her things. "Are you try'n't sneak out on me?" He mumbles with a smile, thinking he's being flirty and cute.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, hon." She winks, as she snags her cheeky hot pink thong off the back of his desk chair and shoves it in her pocket on the way out the bedroom door. "I'll be quiet on my way out. Don't worry. Maybe I'll see ya around. Maybe I won't. It was fun though. You were a KING with that tongue so I wouldn't be opposed…but it's honestly unlikely."

And Steve is there, left tangled and alone and feeling stone cold sober after that dose of honesty from Melissa, left wondering if this is how all the girls back in Hawkins felt after he dipped out on them. Having his fun but knowing it wouldn't go any further than that. Getting off under Skull Rock, in the back of his BMW, atop their pink frilly pillows with their parents in the room next door - all hanging on to the hope of just a little more - the potential of being needed and wanted and good enough for the likes of King Steve, but waking up empty and disposable instead. If he didn't already hate himself before, he definitely does now.

"Sooooo." Robin sings out, while twirling her spoon through her milky cereal. "We gonna talk about that little Bedroom Rodeo last night or what?"

"Robin. Please. It's too early for this." He presses his palms into his eyes, trying to stave off the pulsing just beyond his sinuses. "and did you just say Bedroom Rodeo? The fuck?"

"Well, yeah. Bedroom Rodeo… ya know. Crushing the buns? Two person pushups? Horizontal Tango? Please tell me with all that racket you at least got off?"

"Ew Rob, where the fuck are you coming up with these?" He looks at her as she shrugs, slurping the last of her sweet cereal milk straight from the bowl as she did it. "This may be shocking, but… probably the most annoying thing you've ever said. Crushing the buns? Are you serious?" he says as he walks over and face plants dramatically onto the couch.

Rolling over to his back and sliding on the wire rims of the glasses he never lets anyone but Robin see him in, the apartment comes into focus and so does his best friend, sitting at the counter grinning from ear to ear while tugging up her eyebrows to him in a taunt, chomping on her cereal and looking far to comfortable in his own goddamn yellow sweatshirt. His hand jutting out abruptly and gesturing to her morning attire with a furrowed brow and a questioning look, she says absolutely nothing in response. "Are you serious? Get your own clothes!"

"Eh, yours was already unpacked and my box of cozy stuff is on the bottom. I didn't get to it yet." She says casually.

“Yeah okay. The box pile huh? Well don’t think we’re going to be sharing everything around here.”

To which he watches her lips curl up in a Cheshire cat grin as she responds “Aw man, not even the ladies?”

He hates this already.

"Need some coffee, tiger? Probably a little sluggish after testing out that mattress."

His groan was loud at that one. "ROBIN! "

"Fine, I'll leave you alone…for now. But we're gonna talk about some rules for when we're Jamming the Clam later over a smoke, ya got me? Roommate ground rules at all." She winked as she sauntered down the hallway to her room.

"Sure Robbie. Whatever you want. But do me a favor… if you're so goddamn chipper this morning maybe you can unpack a freaking box from that mega-pile. Won't be bringing back some hot piece to your room to Jam the Clam in that fuckin' disaster zone!" He shouts at her back.

Throwing up a peace sign and swaying her hips a little more (albeit awkwardly) she makes a show of acknowledging her friends request before shutting her bedroom door behind her.

"Robin, right? And… " Murray looks at him up and down.

"Steve" the boy scowls.

"Wow. Okay then. Cheer up Rico Suave. Robin! You didn't tell me your friend had this much charisma when you stopped by last week."

Murray Bauman is the manager of The Hideout. Maybe he owns the place, it's not entirely clear, but what is immediately crystal is that Murray is always ready to dish it out. "Alright then, welcome to The Hideout. I wanted to name it Murray's Pleasure Emporium but that got shot down pretty fuckin fast by my partner, so it is what it is."

With his salt-and-pepper hair, neatly groomed yet slightly disheveled, and a well-maintained beard framing his jawline, Murray's appearance hints at a man who has seen his fair share of adventures. Despite his brash exterior it's quickly clear that Murray effortlessly creates a comfortable atmosphere, so it's no wonder he finds himself successful in an environment where he can push boundaries and help others to explore their fantasies and fulfill their desires.

"So here's how this is gonna work. You two are gonna work retail. You'll need to run the register, oversee the displays, manage the inventory and help the customers. Peace-a cake, right?" He spurts off while simultaneously counting the money in the register for the day.

Robin and Steve spit out a garbled acknowledgement while Murray looks back and forth between the two. "Red, did you say you two were... roommates?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Eyes knocking back and forth to look between the two friends, Steve can already see where this is going. Been there a thousand times. So he cuts off Murray's silent analysis and offers up the information needed to satisfy his curiosity. "No, we aren't dating. And .. ah ah. Wait." He cuts him off as Murray starts to open his mouth, ready to counter back "...and NO, before you go there, we aren't fucking either. Didn't happen. Won't happen. Platonic."

"With a capital P." Robin finishes the end of Steve's sentence. "We can't promise we won't be weird, but we can one hundred percent promise there will not be any lovers quarreling with us."

"Well alright then. Loud and clear." Murray says in response. He claps his hands loudly and rubs them together before continuing on with his sex shop monologue.

"Back to business, then. Covered the retail bits - Ah, yeah here we go. As you can see, the shop offers an extensive selection of adult toys, lingerie for the ladies…or the men, sensual massage oils - a personal favorite - and other products that cater to a wide range of tastes and sexual preferences. I like the good stuff, because I have taste. So that's what I sell. I also like to have all the latest shit because I'm progressive. Call me sexually innovative, if you will. If it's new, we're gonna have it."

Steve and Robin follow dutifully behind him taking it all in. Robin's eyes are as wide as saucers and she's distracted by all of the things she does not yet understand as Murray continues to spout out information on products, business and his own personal sexual philosophies. Steve poked her shoulder and she grimaces, and returns to planet earth to hear the rest of Murray's great new hire speech.

"The people who come in here are not sex freaks. You got that? They're normal people. Don't gotta be some pervert to want to get off and feel good, so if you can't be open-minded and nonjudgmental then you might as well not even clock in after this. Got it?"

Both nod in agreement and the edges of Murray's lips curl up in a smirk. "Perfect. Come." He directs as he walks to the register and it's adjoining display case where a wide array of colorful dildos stand spread out for selection.

"Not that it's a job requirement or anything but, I'm assuming if you're wanting to work here and my pleasure palace your… ahem.. sufficiently experienced. Cause you're gonna need to sell the product if you get my drift. People have way more questions than you could imagine. Just yesterday I had to tell a kid that Anal Beads are, in fact, for your anus..."

Robin's mouth is aghast. Steve looks around again taking it all in and he finally laughs at Murray, who is looking them over as if he can't believe these two kids standing here in front of him know anything about the kind of sex he sells. "Listen, Murray. I didn't set out to move here to this city and work in a shop full of dildos. Surprisingly, my incredibly inexperienced friend here signed me up against my will to hawk condoms like morning coffee. Robin doesn't know shit - sorry Robs, but you don't." She shrugs her shoulders, looking at Murray and nods in agreement at her friends words. "And while I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that I'm not what you might consider all that adventurous, I've got more notches than I'm proud of and unlike most guys I can find a girl's clit. SO… I'd appreciate it if you stopped talking to me like this is 6th grade health class and let us get to work."

"I have very little to add." Robin says, "and after what I heard the other night, I'll attest to what Steve says. He sure can make 'em moan."

Murray stands behind the counter looking Steve up and down. He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh into the still air of the shop before he starts again "Well then, Steve. I can respect that. I think you both are going to be a mess, but I can work with it... So let's hop to it."

Beyond the merchandise, the pair learn that Murray hosts educational workshops and events at The Hideout for its patrons and the community and often has specials and promos going inside for shoppers. After the first half of their day, it's clear that Murray runs a business that he is proud of and his customers are loyal. Steve decides that when people ask, he's just going to tell them he works retail. Because he in fact… does.

As their training winds down, Murray comes out of his back office carrying a giant tray and welding some embarrassing dance moves as he delivers it delicately to the counter. "Hey, hey, hey assholes! Before we head out, we have to set up this display for tomorrow. Let's rock and roll my friends!" Robin scans the contents of the tray curiously, not so sure how all of the items fit together to make anything that resembles a display. "Uh, okay but like… what is it?" She says.

Steve snickers as he takes in the tray full of cupcakes, bananas and condoms. "Well Robbie, despite what it looks like I don't think Murray is letting us set up snack time. I'm not sure what the cupcakes are for, but these here look like they're to practice getting the condoms on the banana."

"Bingo! Rico Suave gets the points! We're doing a condom demo tomorrow, so he's right on that. What he's wrong about though, is that the cupcakes ARE for a snack." Murray fist bumps Steve and turns to see Robin's gears turning at maximum speed.

“What’s the matter, first time, Red?” Murray spits out, through a wide gleaming smile that Steve swears sparkles in the light, like some goddamn cartoon.

"Actually.. ." She draws out "while I don't have the clit-finding prowess of my friend Steve here, I only strive to one day be able to eat pussy as well as he apparently can. So yes, this is my first time sliding on a condom, thank you very much."

Murray nods and his grin never ceases, although now there's a bit more approval and admiration than taunt behind it. "C'mon then, lemme show you how to slide these on like a fuckin pro."

Steve is beaming watching his friend speak so casually about it. Murray really is good at what he does and making people feel comfortable, or this city really is just what Robin needs, either way, the way Murray doesn't skip a beat and starts teaching Robin the art of rolling on a condom like it's just any old day makes Steve think about how many wild things they're going to get into here. And honestly it's all fine, because there’s a first time for everything.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

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