In which ever since Nancy told Mike he could easily get whatever he wants using his “sad, lost boy puppy dog face”, he starts to get way too cocky with it. Will over the many years of knowing Mike has learned to not be so easily persuaded by it, and decides to teach him how it doesn’t work on everyone like he assumes.
This is a tickle fic. Please do not read if that’s not your thing.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
Will paused his careful painting, giving Mike who’s laying flat on his stomach on his bed a quick side eye. “You know what.”
It was a cloudy afternoon, Will being at the Wheelers for over an hour now. Mike had a lot of school work he kept pushing to the side, and a couple of the due dates are starting to near in the next few days. He decided it’s better to start working on them with some company rather than all alone, so of course why not invite Will Byers, someone he can always have fun with no matter what they’re doing.
Will brought his own school work, which was a little different than Mike’s. It’s an art project, to no one’s surprise, and it had to be perfect according to Will. Where he’s at with it is painting the smallest of details to his claymations of people, having to make sure his hands don’t wobble too much where he smudges the paint.
After forty-five minutes had gone by, he started to feel Mike’s eyes on him, watching him focused on painting. He didn’t mind it at all, until Mike started to nag him to help him with one of his own school work that required art, but not to the degree of Will’s. Still, it is something Mike has been dreading to start, not having a single artistic bone in him.
Mike kept the sad puppy dog face, oblivious to what Will was telling him to not do. “Just help me with it whenever you can, that’s all I’m asking.”
Will sighed, dabbing his paintbrush in a water cup to add a new color. “When you mean ‘help’, you actually mean for me to just do it for you, right?”
Mike slightly threw his hands up in mock offense, although Will was right on with his assumptions. “Of course not!” That earned Mike another side glance from him. “I just don’t know how to really start it, so maybe you can help me out with that. After, I swear I’ll take on the rest.”
Will groaned, but not from Mike’s suggestion. He swiped a little too harshly when painting eyes on one of the claymation people, making it look messy. He hated a messy look on his art.
Deciding to take a deep breath and fix it later, he starts putting his attention onto the small trees he made out of cardboard, grabbing a nearby glue stick. “Are you even done with your other homework you have?”
Mike, who is still laying on his stomach with his elbows propped up, only shrugged to his question. “I mean, sorta yea. I’m kinda waiting for you to finish up so we can start my art homework, that’s the most important one.”
Will shook his head. “I don’t remember agreeing to help you with it yet.”
Mike whined. “Oh c'mon, please?” He goes back to making the face everyone cannot say no to, scrunching his eyebrows a little high with his eyes slightly crinkled up. Will can sense it, and tries everything in his power to not look over his shoulder at Mike, no matter what he says.
“I still have my own I have to work on, which I’m literally doing right now. It’s going to take awhile, I’m sorry.”
Will hears Mike sigh dramatically, which has him bite the inside of his cheek to not comment on. He feels himself on the edge of it, on the edge of almost falling for it. The slight whine caught in Mike’s tone, the scrunch of his brows and crinkle of his eyes, having a sad longing expression written all over his face. It’s the infamous lost puppy dog face, and Will has witnessed so many lose to it.
He can’t. He won’t. This art project he’s doing is worth half of his grade, he can’t abandon it to start another that’s not even his. Mike is going to learn the lesson of patience today, and that you can’t always get everything you want, no matter how hard you try. Everything is fine, just focus on folding the green paper in a way that almost looks like leaves—
“I can’t believe it.” Mike’s voice pulls Will out of his train of focus, having him pause his movements yet again. He hasn’t looked over yet, though.
“Can’t believe what?”
“That you don’t love me.”
Will perks his head up, staring at the wall in front of him for a few seconds. His left hand does a little twitch, and he finally fully faces over to look at Mike, turning his entire chair around.
There he was. On the bed, wearing that stupid lost puppy face that he hasn’t dropped once, the one where Will has the sudden urge to wipe it right off of him.
“Okay, that’s it.”
Will got up from his chair, a little too fast for Mike as he flinched and started to sit up on the bed to put a bit of distance between.
Will moved in silence, avoiding Mike’s flailing hands to grab his wrists as he settled for a seat on his waist, not wasting any time on showing his true motives by shoving his hands directly to Mike’s underarms.
Thank god nobody was home and it was just the two of them, because Mike screamed bloody-murder.
“WAHAHAIT!” Mike spluttered out through his frantic laughter, cheeks becoming tinted pink in an instant over embarrassment from how easy it always is to take him down with just a couple of wiggling fingers to his skin. He absolutely hated walking around with “the most ticklish” title in the friend group, but thankfully for him most of the time he didn't get attacked unless it was well deserved.
Like right now, in only Will’s eyes.
“You just couldn’t leave me be, huh?” Will calmly talked over Mike’s giggly protests and pleas that fell on deaf ears, trying to press half of his face in a nearby pillow to muffle his laughs that are soon to become hiccupy. Will squeals when tickled to pieces, which Mike adores. For Mike, he hiccups, which Will adores. The littlest details in both their laughs that gets them to pray for opportunities to fall in their laps as an excuse to get one another.
“You just had to keep bugging me while I was doing my work.” His left hand started to travel lower, getting him on the start of his upper ribs. Mike bucked his hips, but Will barely moved from where he was sitting on his waist. Mike is starting to think that maybe joining Lucas whenever he heads to the gym isn’t a bad idea after all, because he would’ve already gotten out of this. He’s sure of it.
Will kept talking, ignoring how bad the rapid squeezing to Mike’s side is getting him to cackle nonstop. “You just had to go and try and trick me using your sad puppy dog eyes, huh? Did you really think that was going to work on me? I need you to think again.”
Will decided to have a heart and stop for a moment, letting him catch his breath. Mike furrows his brows in a mock of confusion, yet his big smile and sheepish giggles tell Will otherwise that he knows exactly what he’s talking about.
“Ihihi dohon’t— huh?? Puppy dog eyes…? Whahat do yohou mean—“ but Mike couldn’t finish his sentence as more giggles cut through, because Will started to lightly prod in various places around his stomach and sides as he narrowed his eyes down at him. “Oh yeah, act dumb, because that’s gonna make me stop tickling you.”
Will has been itching to go in for the kill, for the one spot that nearly has Mike see heaven itself from how terribly it tickles. He couldn’t resist anymore, and decided Mike didn’t deserve any build-up for it anyway, not today at least. After a couple of more pokes and prods up and down his sides, he all of a sudden latches his hands firmly on each side of Mike’s hips, poised for a brutal attack.
Mike was barely given any time to register what’s to come, gasping before letting a giggly shrill overtake him from fingers now rapidly pinching his hipbones, so loud it nearly had Will stop to cover his poor ears. Yet he just laughs alongside Mike over his ridiculous squirming that gets him nowhere and the hiccups in between his laughs that come from deep within the chest. God, he could do this all day if homework wasn’t silently calling his name this entire time, having to put an end to this soon.
“IHIHIM— IHIHIM—“ Mike squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop the tears from laughing so hard to roll down his rosy cheeks, but it’s quite inevitable. Will can’t help but start to softly smile down at the sight underneath him, resorting to scribbling at the hips so Mike can have a chance to speak.
“You’re…? You’re what?” Will teases gently, slowing the tickles altogether once he can tell that Mike’s giggly hiccups in between are starting to get painful. The sight of Mike being so relieved to finally bless his lungs with air, cheeks burning, body all limp has pulled Will’s heart strings a little, starting to rub small soothing circles on all the spots he targeted in the last three minutes as a quiet ‘sorry’ if he ever went too far.
He never goes too far whenever he tickles Mike, though. If anything, small disappointment waved over him the second Will stopped, wishing tickles didn’t tire him out so easily so it could go for longer without Will ever overthinking he’s done too much.
But of course, the thought of Will ever finding out how much this enjoys Mike would surely kill him on the spot from humiliation. He’ll continue to stay silent.
For now.
“I’m sohohorehehey…” He finished his sentence after a couple of more moments pulling himself together, slowly opening his eyes to look up at a smiling Will who holds so much love for him behind his gaze.
His hands go right back to his hipbones, resting there to give the illusion he’ll start back up again, having Mike flinch. “I don’t think you are.”
Will lets a few seconds go by of watching Mike let out another batch of giggly pleas, shaking his head, hands wrapping tight around Will’s wrists but not doing much to push back. He’s not even tickling him, yet Mike is doing so much laughing that it’s satisfying enough for Will to call it quits.
“But,” he swiftly gets off of Mike’s waist, heading back to his chair while biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning over Mike’s dumbfounded expression over him going back to his art project like nothing happened. He picks up where he left off on paper macheing the trees, grabbing the glue stick nearby that’s already got the cap off. “This project won’t finish itself, so I’ll let it go. For now.”
From behind, Will hears quiet shuffling, assuming Mike is sitting up to go fetch his own half unfinished homework, thinking how right Will is. It won’t finish itself.
However, he sees Mike pull his own wheeling chair next to Will from his peripheral vision, making him stop to look up with a raise of a brow.
“Then, when you’re done, you’ll hundred percent help with mine, yes?”
Cue the look.
And Mike’s room was filled with laughter once again, never learning his lesson.
In which Mike wanted to be the artist for once, deciding to draw Will a portrait of him. Will later believes it looks nothing like him, accidentally challenging him just how well his supposedly ‘childhood best friend’ really knows him, and Mike is quick to save himself.
This a tickle fic. Please do not read if that’s not your thing.
Ever since Hawkins has now been under strict military quarantine, Will might be the only one who’s not only seen it as a curse, but also a blessing in disguise.
A curse, as grateful he is for the Wheelers having a heart of gold to kindly offer them a place to stay, it left him and Jonathan to bunk in the family's basement together. Nights he could no longer count on his hand how many times he tossed and turned, losing sleep over Jonathan’s snores that Will is convinced could be heard from a mile away. A sense of privacy is something both boys aren’t too sure when they will be getting back, but everyday they are reminded in some way, shape, or form how much they’ve taken it for granted.
Although, also a blessing, because if you already didn’t think Mike and Will were practically born attached to the hip, them ending up living together would’ve started to change your mind in a heartbeat.
Will was no longer a few minute bike ride down the street for Mike, instead a few steps down to the basement in the comfort of his own home. Whenever boredom struck either boy when there wasn’t any scheduled crawl happening later that night, they found each other in less than a second to hangout. They soak in each other’s company more than ever, and being childhood friends left them with the ability to do even the smallest things together and still be able to manage to create some great memories they’ll look back on.
Like right now, for example.
The basement only had Mike and Will in there, Jonathan leaving half an hour ago with Nancy. It was perfect, as today the fall wind seems to have an extra chill in the air that would make it too hard to enjoy anything outdoors.
A simple glance over at the corner where Will’s art supplies could be found was enough for an idea to pop into Mike’s head, grabbing some color pencils that looked like they needed to be sharpened and pointed at a nearby chair for Will to take a seat in.
Who has been sitting for a good three minutes by now, growing anxious each time Mike looks up at him then scribbles away at the paper he’s covering with half of his arm with newfound inspiration.
He shifts a little, earning him a small creak from the chair. “Mike, you really don’t have to—“
“Sssh.” Is all he’s been met with every time he speaks up. Mike has never stopped adoring Will’s love for art, and how he turned it into his own love language to gift the people he cares about paintings and sketches of their favorite character from a tv show or a beautiful portrait of themselves in a breathtaking scenery behind them. He puts his feelings and emotions into these drawings, and hopes the people he gives them to see it, as having his love for others be put into words isn’t something that comes so easily to Will.
Mike has been Will’s favorite person to give these types of gifts to, and no doubt does it give such a warm fuzzy feeling in Mike’s chest he can’t quite explain what it is, but takes the time to appreciate every artwork and hang some of them up in his room while the others are neatly stacked in a box sitting on his shelf to look through from time to time.
Although, he does sit to wonder if Will ever wished to be on the receiving end for a sweet change, putting his talents to a rest as someone gives him a painting they worked hard on.
Mike wanted to be the first to do so, but too bad for Will it won’t look like Picasso himself made it for him. Maybe almost like a five year old did, instead.
“Okay, finished!” Mike suddenly spoke up, getting Will to jump a little in his seat. He moves his arm that’s been blocking Will’s view in case he ever tries to steal a peek, holding the paper up so the sun leaking through the curtains can shine directly on it to show every single detail.
For a split second, all that could be heard was the tree branches lightly scratching against the window from the breeze.
“Is that… really supposed to be me?” Is what finally broke the quietness, Will pointing at the paper with a slight disbelief expression written on his face.
Mike somehow not being able to pick up his tone was beyond Will, as he started to break down every detail of the drawing like his question was him genuinely asking.
“Well, of course. See, look..” He pointed first at the eyes, which held a striking resemblance of a thousand yard stare that gives Will the shivers the longer he stares at it. “These are your green eyes, and I even added the little brown you have in them.”
Will feels the beginning of his cheeks heating up, a small detail like that he himself even sometimes forgets, because there’s no reason for him to stare that closely into his own eyes to see every inkling of color it holds. Although, I guess Mike has no problem doing that.
“Oh, and these dots? Those are your freckles. One right here, here, also here…” Mike points in different places on Will’s face of the portrait he drew, and it did not help whatsoever to Will’s current flustered state. Freckles he was never aware of he had in certain areas. How much was Mike observing? Or is this just knowledge he’s always had about him?
And he just kept going.
A point to the hair. “I see some curls coming in, so I added that in for your hair. That’s what the swooshes are, if you couldn’t tell.”
A point to the smile. “Oh, and here I was trying to capture your smile as best as I could. That line right there is supposed to be a dimple. I don’t think you’re aware you have one, but it comes out whenever you’re talking about your special interests, or recalling a really funny embarrassing moment of Jonathan, or when you’re talking to m—“
“Okay, okay, Mike! I got it, it really is a portrait of me…” Will was quick to cut off Mike’s sentence before it got too much, needing a break from his poor cheeks burning up with every detail Mike goes into explanation of, oblivious to how observant of his best friend’s facial features brings Will to an understandably flustered mess.
Mike sets the paper down on the table beside him, giving it a glance before bringing his eyes back on Will who isn’t meeting his gaze currently. “You don’t believe me.”
“What..?” Now Will is looking at him.
“You think this looks nothing like you.” His tone is playful, but he leans a little back in his chair with arms crossed to put up a front that he’s a little hurt. “I put a lot of time and effort into this—“
“It only took you three minutes—“
“—and I made sure to get it as accurate as possible. Is my art skills really that bad? It’s okay, you can say it. I forgot who I’m with.”
Mike’s dramatics earns him a eyeroll from the other, who ignores the question that has an obvious answer as he leans a little closer to the table to get a better look at the drawing.
“I’m trying to look at it through your eyes, and I can kinda see it. But…” he taps at the fainted line on the left side of the portrait’s cheek. “I do not have a dimple. You completely made that up, for whatever reason.”
Mike’s eyebrows knit together, dumbfounded to say the least. “Are you kidding?” He grabs the paper, holding it up next to Will’s face, eyeing between the two. “Smile for me.”
Will ignores how such a simple request from Mike made his cheeks become a little tinted pink, lips tugging into a weak smile that made Mike scoff and put the drawing back down on the table.
“Dude, you’re not even trying—“
“Well, it’s awkward when someone just tells you to smile!”
It took one singular glance up and down at Will for the gears in Mike’s brain to start churning out an idea he hasn’t acted upon in such a long time, almost forgetting how often they used to do this to each other when both were younger and would get on each other’s nerves, or just wanted to be pestering little shits.
“No no, it’s okay.” Mike said ever so calmly, not wanting to foil his intentions that will soon become evident in just a few seconds. “I think I know what will make it show.”
All Will did was blink, and suddenly his back was against the floor with the help of blankets and pillows being scattered around to lessen the pain the tackle gave him. Mike straddled his hips before Will could do so much as think to get up, his tone catching a nervous shake to it.
“Mike, what are you doIHIHING— WAIT!” Laughter was soon to cut him off once he felt nimble fingers worming its way up his sides, getting higher and higher to his underarms which if Mike’s hazy memory is serving him right, it’s a spot that turns Will’s frantic giggles into tiny hiccups he can’t hold back on.
Will tried to be one step ahead of him, slamming his arms down to block the spot but Mike was surprisingly quick, jamming his fingers there as soon as it happened which led to them being trapped for now. Mike wasn’t complaining at all about his predicament, however.
Took only twenty seconds until Will’s dimple Mike was certain he had started to faintly show on his left cheek, becoming more prominent with each hard drill of his thumbs into the hollows of his armpits to fish out another hiccup that brings Mike to his own fits of giggles.
“See? There it is. Making me think I’m just going crazy.” Mike said with a shake of his head, starting to slow down at the first sight of tears already starting to prickle in his best friend’s eyes. The semi-given break had Will flutter his eyes open, hands grabbing ahold of Mike’s wrists but not putting much up of a fight to twist them away.
“Ohohokay, ohohokay! You’re right and I was wrong, so ple—“
“Do you think your knees are just as bad as they were when we were younger?” Mike asked, but wasn’t expecting an answer, more so leaning in on the option of finding out himself. Once Mike got his hands behind him, he didn’t even get the chance to start latching onto his knees as Will was already attempting to find purchase on the floor with the heels of his shoes to buck him off.
“No! It’s nohot, it’s not! They aren’t!” Will did a terrible job of convincing, his constant squirming and giggles lacing behind his voice was giving him up completely that Mike couldn’t help but let out a sympathetic huff of a chuckle through his nose.
“Yet you’re still giggling, if not more when I just hover my hands over them.” And he did, shaping them to be almost like claws and did a couple of squeeze motions in the air, absolutely enjoying every second how much effect the anticipation is killing Will.
Will can’t possibly imagine how terribly flushed his face must be, legs still kicking out to avoid the hands that try to follow along. From what he can remember from his tickle fights with Mike in their younger days, when Mike does the tickling, there is no pleading that boy will take into consideration and just have it go in one ear and out the other. Will further worsened it when he started to complain to the friend group he didn’t want to be treated so fragile, to be babied constantly by everyone around him. So Mike without hesitation took it upon himself to show that he listens, but also made it apply to their tickle fights which ends in Will nearly gasping for air. By then, Will knew it was far too late to now retract back his statement.
“You’re being soho mean..” is all Will can find himself to say, and didn’t like how it only got Mike to respond with a quirked up brow and a growing smirk.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be nicer and just cut to the chase, then.”
And boy did he, ignoring the shrieking ‘no!’ coming out of Will before being overtaken by his squeaky laughter yet again, knees receiving rapid squeezes to the bone with a tight latched grip to follow the violent kicks.
Will couldn’t muster enough energy to fight back properly, aiming weak punches to the chest as one hand even resorted to just clutching onto the fabric of Mike’s shirt, yet staying there with no push or pull to get him off. The buck of his hips didn’t seem to work either, so Will was left to believe this truly is just his fate he’s forced to succumb to until Mike’s entertainment meter was filled to the brim.
However, a spot like his knees was only ever built for a few seconds of tickling, Mike not wanting to be on trial for murder as he finally leaves them be and decides on scribbling back to his sides, an easy target that still promises priceless reactions.
Such as a snort.
It seemed like it not only caught Mike by surprise, but Will as well, caused by the fast switch up of spots he couldn’t get used to in time.
“Oh man, I think I’ll have to start making this a habit again.” Mike chuckled, putting his tickles to a halt when he took the snort as a sign that Will needs a breather. Will was more than relieved to eventually bless his lungs with air, letting the leftover giggles get all out of his chest before deadpanning up at him.
“Funny how you’re acting like you’re not just as ticklish as me. In fact, even worse if I remember correctly..”
Mike shot out grips to both of Will’s wrists the second he saw them move to test his memory, not needing the tables to be turned so swiftly on him.
“Well, you’re not.”
“Uh huh, then let go of my wrists.” Will gives them a pull, but they barely budge as Mike only tightens his hold.
“Uh, sorry, no can do.”
“Mike,” Will resorts to reasoning, it being far too long of him pinned on the floor as Mike could very much go for round two if he ever feels like it, but there won’t be any waiting around to see if that becomes true, getting a bit hungry now for his own revenge. “Seriously let me up, you had your fun—“
The door to the basement suddenly swings open out of the blue, pulling both of their attention away from each other as it lands on Jonathan who takes a few steps down.
Yet stops, seeing the state the two of them are currently.
“…What are you guys doing?” It sounded like he almost didn’t want to question, and should've made his and Nancy’s date go on a little longer.
Mike gives him a grin, one that kickstarts Will’s squirming all over again.
Summary: In which Steve notices whenever Eddie gets bored, he doodles. Steve gave his own art skills a try, but it lead to something else.
Word count: 974
“Reminding you this is the last doodle, alright?” Steve said while watching how focused Eddie’s gaze is on his arm, tongue poking out here and there from concentration. He colored in a certain spot, applying a bit of pressure on the skin to make sure the black pen ink doesn’t give up halfway. Then, Eddie snapped the cap back on before giving Steve a prideful smile.
“Thoughts on this new masterpiece?” Steve raised his arm up for a closer view of the demobats scattered around his entire forearm, almost an exact copy of Eddie’s own bat tattoo just near his elbow. Great detail, no tiny mistakes, and definitely badass. “It’s really cool, although I hope me saying that doesn’t get you to convince me to start another new doodle on my body like you’ve been doing for the past ten minutes.” Steve slightly lifts up his shirt to show Eddie all the pen drawings covering his entire stomach, in hopes the man gets the hint maybe Steve had enough of being Eddie’s personal canvas.
Don’t get him wrong, Steve loves Eddie’s small artistic side whenever he’s bored. The itch to doodle is strong for the metal-head, the rim of his converse covered in small drawings. Anything he can get his hands on, it’ll be covered in colorful ink soon. Steve, as you might’ve guessed, has fallen victim to this itch.
Steve didn’t mind at first, but he didn’t expect to be covered head to toe in Eddie’s artwork. He was more thinking maybe a cute smiley face on his palm, or stars around his knuckles. Y’know, something Nancy use to do when they were together.
“Oh please, you love these sweet tats drawn by me.” Eddie gave Steve’s bare side a quick squeeze, making him yelp before rolling down his shirt to prevent anymore attacks. Steve eyed the pen being set down on the bedside table, grabbing it as his eyes lit up from an idea popping in his head.
“Let me draw on you.” Steve said simply, catching Eddie a bit off-guard. He turns to Steve, pointing at his own chest. “Draw on me?” He repeats Steve’s sentence, a amusing grin forming. If there’s anything you’d like to know about Eddie, is that his love language is physical touch. Turning down such an offer, especially from Steve, is something Eddie can’t fathom.
“C’mon, let me have a turn. Lay down.” Steve’s tone almost sounded a bit demanding, patting down space next to him for Eddie to get all comfortable. Eddie breathed out a chuckle, putting a pillow under his head. “Oh? Yes sir.” He could not help but tease, earning an eye roll from Steve. A wave of cold air hits Eddie’s stomach, feeling the tip of the pen starting around his side.
Seconds go by in silence, Steve not kidding around by being determined this doodle comes out looking like the definition of perfection. Although Eddie began to have his doubts. “No hard feelings, but this doodle better not eat shit.”
“It won’t if you stay still.” Steve argued back, having to wait out the squirms Eddie does every few minutes. Eddie opened his mouth to give the twitching an excuse, but instead a giggly yelp poured out. Apparently, Steve circled the pen in a rather sensitive spot. This stopped the two in their tracks, making immediate direct eye contact. Steve smirking, Eddie growing nervous.
“Ticklish?” Steve asked innocently, but the mischievous growing smirk told a different story.
“No.” Eddie got on his elbows, ready to spring on his feet. The plan didn’t get really far, unfortunately, because Steve tossed the pen aside to scratch Eddie’s sides with his blunt nails. Eddie straight out cackled hysterically, letting it be heard from miles away. Steve was almost tempted to shush him, but it would be hard when your apparent worst spot is being exploited to it’s fullest.
Eddie thrashed violently, being close to accidentally knocking the wind out of Steve from the squirm of his legs. No worries, Steve helped out with that by sitting on top of his thighs, now easier to worm his hands everywhere on his torso.
“Stohop! You’re kihihilling ME!” His protest ended in a shrill squeal when he felt a firm dug in his ankles, but only because Steve was near being bucked off. This newfound discovery on accident did not get unnoticed, sadly for Eddie. “Don’t tell me your ankles are ticklish.”
Eddie quickly got ahold of Steve’s wrists, looking him dead in the eye. “Go for them and the second I’m let up, I’m gonna tickle the absolute hell out of you until I’m satisfied, pretty boy.” A threat. A playful one that meant zero harm but to only scare. Something that didn’t make Steve rethink his choices in the slightest.
“Too bad I won’t let you have enough energy for payback.” Steve unwrapped his grip on Eddie’s ankles, digging straight in his underarms as a form of surprise. He snapped his arms down in swift speed, spilling out giggly curses toward Steve that went through one ear and out the other.
“Sohomewhere else goddamnit!” Eddie wheezed out. Steve stopped, but wiggled his hands around to hint that his hands are stuck. Eddie hesitantly lifted up his arms, and in a second hands latched around his ankles. Scratching like there’s no tomorrow.
“FUHUCK! HOLY SHIHIT!” Were the last words before his laughs turned silent, cheeks tinted red. Taking this as a cue to have the fun come to an end, Steve rolled beside Eddie while removing loose curls away from his face from all the thrashing. “You told me to go somewhere else.”
“I fucking hahate you.” Eddie breathlessly giggled, greedily sucking air. A middle finger aimed towards Steve, but he takes the hand to plant tiny kisses around his knuckles and rings.
In which you don’t give Steve Harrington a break in teasing him how he’s viewed as the overprotective mother on the group of kids nonstop. His final string has been pulled, and it does not end good for you.
This is a tickle fic. Please do not read if that’s not your thing.
“You see, I can’t, because I promised I’d pick up the kids right after school.”
You lift up your wrist, seeing the watch nearing close to 3 o’clock. Whether he was just giving them a ride home, or because they asked him to give them a ride somewhere else after school knowing their own parents won’t, he will be missing movie night at Robin’s place.
“Right now we’re going to head to the store to pick up a few snacks. We won’t start the movie until night falls, you can still make it.” You reasoned, because when you go back to the group without Steve tagging along behind, Robin’s gonna have a field day when she finds out why.
You’re starting to as well, finding Steve be the new parental figure to the kids almost amusing. Too hard to not tease the poor guy who’s likely heard enough.
“Oooo, Yeah, no.” Steve says, fiddling the car keys in his hands. “It’s best I stick around with them so they won’t do any dumb shit, y’know?”
Whatever the kids were gonna be up to in fifteen minutes, you didn’t want to know. If it has Steve concerned, it gave away it’s probably no good. If you thought about it more, anything they do got Steve watching them like a hawk’s eye.
“Alright then. Make sure to give them motherly smooches on the cheek when they’re out for me, kay?” You grinned, waving goodbye as Steve flips you off before climbing into the car.
First string pulled.
You rip your eyes away from the Wolverine comic, looking to see Dustin carrying a heavy firework box covered with about fifty warning labels in black bold font. Clearly trying to catch the right peoples attention who knows what they’re doing when handling these bad boys.
“Can we?” Is all Dustin says to you, trailing your eyes to the box and back to him once more. You see Lucas trying to plead a yes from you with his gaze, Max behind the two of them with crossed arms, looking like she doesn’t have anything better to do.
“Is that all you guys came here to do? Snoop around my basement until you mistake something dangerous as a toy?” You scoff, but they all shared blank looks before shrugging.
“Yes or no?” Dustin asked again, but you nudged your head to Steve who’s sprawled on the couch watching Full House. “Go ask mom.”
Dustin rolls his eyes before making his way over, poking the side of Steve’s head with the box to gain his attention. “What?” Steve looks up at the three, turning the volume down a little.
“Can we light all of these outside?” Lucas points to the door that leads to the backyard.
“Specifically all at once.” Dustin adds.
Steve takes a single glance at the box then immediately shakes his head.
“No no, NO. Unless you kids like getting set on fire, why even bother asking me?” Steve snatches the box out of Dustin’s hands, standing up to put it back where they found it.
“Because Y/N told us to go ask mom.” Max said simply, causing you to silently giggle when you caught Steve quickly stopping to turn his direction towards you to hand the nastiest glare in his books.
Second string pulled.
“Give me your palm.” You place yours upright on the table, Steve’s resting on top as he seems a bit doubtful. Your new knowledge on palm reading was thanks to the morning newspaper, a journalist writing a small story of Hawkin’s opinions around the subject. Is it real? Is it fake and scammer fuel? You didn’t really care, you wanted to give it a go regardless.
“You know this stuff is fake, right?” Steve said but you shushed him, tracing his palm lines gently with closed eyes. You sense the suspicion in him, and honestly you had your own doubts too. You’re far from knowing what the hell you’re doing, not having a clue this existed until a few hours ago. The way you managed to convince Steve you practiced palm reading for a good couple of years baffled you.
Entertaining, even. This would be fun, you felt like you could make him truly believe you know what his future ahead of him holds in store.
You stopped the tracing. “You will pursue your dreams very soon, Steve. I see you doing what you love the most.”
Steve was practically on the edge of his seat. “And that is..?”
You put a bit of pressure on his palm, pretending to search deeper for the answer. To get a good view on his many dreams you claim you know so well.
“Daycare. Your dream job is Daycare.” You manage to answer in a serious tone, but the thin line of your lips to suppress a laugh is getting harder and harder by the growing silence.
Final string pulled.
You hear the chair legs skid across the floor, finally opening your eyes to see Steve rounding the table to leer down at you. You barely flinch, but you’d be lying if you say he didn’t look a little bit intimidating.
“What? Don’t like the answer? Maybe it’s not true, you see my palm reading can be a bit rusty— HEY!” You audibly shout from surprise when Steve tossed you over on his shoulder effortlessly.
“Steheve! What are you doing?” You giggled nervously, but grunted a bit when he dropped you on the soft cushions of the couch. He sat comfortably on your waist, grabbing one of your hands to trace his nails on your own palm lines, sending a ticklish sensation.
“Hmm, the future is telling me you’re gonna regret your words real soon. How, you might ask? Let me show an example.”
“That’s not how palm reading wor— eeEEHAHA!” Fast squeezes on your hips ripped a couple snorts from you, bringing a hand to cover the blush swarming on your warm cheeks.
This isn’t fair, you thought. First thing he does is go straight to your worst spot of all time? Doesn’t even go slow first either?
This is Steve Harrington, he never goes slow. Also noticing he’s a bit bothered you fooled him into believing you had the gift of seeing into the future, a drop of mercy won’t be shown anytime soon.
A minute goes by with those thumbs still drilling harshly onto your hips, never letting up so you can suck in the sweet air. You couldn’t believe you already felt tears sliding down your face, Steve choosing to ignore them.
“PLEHEASE! SOMEWHERE ELSE! GEHET OFF!” Bucking him off was out of the question, your strength compared to his was laughable. Putting more weight on his knees to become heavier nailed your coffin shut.
“Oh yeah? Give me one good reason why I should.” Steve asked, not a hint of sympathy showing in his tone. Although, he did stop in case you seriously thought you had a good reason to change spots. He’ll play fair, but it comes back to him to decide if he agrees or not.
“It’s my wohorst spot, Steve. I can’t hahandle it..” why bother pleading your case when this is seen as your punishment for never letting him breathe with all the mom jokes. Of course this isn’t the first time you both had tickle fights, but it barely lasted more than forty seconds before you two pulled yourselves together.
However, did you ever experience an understandably angry Steve ruthlessly tickling you to pieces? No, but now you have the right to say it’s terrifying.
Steve tsked, confident you had a much better excuse up your sleeve to get out of this situation. “That just makes me want to stay longer.”
Fingers finding your hip bones once more, rubbing small circles which you learned drives you completely insane. The death grip on his wrists to stop his swift movements did you no justice, and obviously not the weak punches aimed at his chest either.
You felt like you entered the gates of heaven when those wiggly fingers eventually left your hips alone, blessing your lungs with a whiff of air. “Have we learned anything today?” Steve showed off a smug smirk, prideful he’s gotten you in a mess so quickly.
The amount of energy you’ve been rewarded back made you lift up your head, staring closely into his eyes that your noses almost touched.
“Why so mad, momma bear?”
A ear piercing squeal came out next, a pinch being set on every individual rib of yours. “Looks like we haven’t.” Steve sighed disappointedly, but your wild thrashing and incoherent giggly begs made him smile nonetheless.
After pinching every rib for two rounds, he sticked to digging on your stomach without warning. One thing Steve enjoys doing when tickling people is watch them get startled over him randomly switching spots out of the blue. Priceless reactions.
“Jeez, I feel like this tickles horribly.” Steve acts remorseful, but the scratching fingers heading to both of your sides dishes out his true intentions. “Is this any better?”
You never wanted to get revenge on someone so badly until now. Damn him, because there’s no spot on your body that eases the tickling. He’s aware.
“I’m SOHOHORY!” You managed to say between your cackles, Steve raising a questionable brow.
“Are you?” He stops, but not entirely. Steve plants pokes all over your torso to keep you busy giggling.
“Yehes! Oh my gohod, stohohop!” You try to block every poke but when you do it results in Steve giving your neck a quick skitter.
“Hmmm…” Steve obnoxiously hummed, resting both of his hands on top of your stomach to help him sit up straight. Either way, it made you flinch hard. 
“I want you to say you’re very sorry for being rude to your most handsome friend in the group for no reason, and that you’re a total idiot for thinking your teases wouldn’t have consequences.”
You blinked. “Steve—“
A tweak to the side cut you off. “I’m waiting.”
You gave him a tiny glare, not making eye contact as you said your scripted apology. “I’m sorry for being rude to you for no reason.” That alone is satisfying for you, but apparently not to Steve since he did not budge.
“And?”
You audibly groaned. “And I’m a idiot for thinking my words won’t receive consequences! There, now get off.”
At last, Steve got off. You slowly sit up, putting the loose strands back in the correct places due to all the thrashing earlier. You watch him head to the kitchen, searching the cabinets for something to fill both of your now grumbling bellies.
You go up behind him all innocently. “So what’s for dinner, mom?”
Needless to say, laughter rang around the house a second time. Steve learned from the beginning that he will, in fact, never hear the end of the mom jokes. Does it stop him to tickle the snot out of anybody who teases him about it regularly, though? No, no it doesn’t.
In which the growing distance away from your friends only caused one person to notice. To notice the color draining out your adored personality. To notice how long it’s been since you last laughed or even pulled a tiny smile. That person being your best friend, Eddie Munson.
This is a tickle fic. Please do not read if that’s not your thing.
Your conversations to your friends all slowly became the same. Discussing on their next hangout, giggling about how fun it’ll be spending time together by being dumb young teenagers, then heads turning to you to see if you’re in. Bowling, skating, and late night kickbacks. It guarantees you a blast, but you give your friends a apologetic look with a quiet ‘no, sorry.’ Each and every time.
‘No biggie’, is what they always tell you. Will they ever get past seeing it as a “no biggie”, and maybe question if you’re doing alright? You give it your best to try attending invites to parties n such, finding a way to work with your strict curfew set by your parents. You usually do, in fact, make it every time. Though these past couple of weeks you found yourself going straight home after school, alone in your room doing homework and study your ass off until night falls where you plop into bed for the next day to repeat the cycle.
The cycle you fully blame on your parents. Your parents have set expectations on you since day one. They remind you everyday, but lately their expectations has started to weigh heavy on your shoulders. The exhaustion of desperately trying to live up their dream of having the most perfect and smartest kid in Hawkins kicked in, leaving you unmotivated to keep up the good scores in tests and be the top of everything when it leaves them unsatisfied at the end. Your parents want more, thinking you can do better.
Focused so much on completing the goals they have on you which only benefits them and earn bragging rights when speaking to other parents, that they completely turned a blind eye on how it might’ve left a negative toll on you.
The one person who seemed to have an immediate problem on not having enough time for them, was Eddie Munson. Doesn’t take awhile to note he can’t live without getting unlimited attention from his close friends dear to his heart. You are nearing top three on his list who owns a special spot in his heart, which comes down to him wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.
You never complained. Eddie gave you the type of friendship everyone envied to have in a guy best friend. Sharing deep conversations at Skull Rock, inviting you over to his trailer to give you a sick mini concert in his room, to the time you snorted out your milkshake from your nose because Eddie’s jokes were gold. There was not a single dull moment you’ve had with him.
Explains the great pain you’ve gotten with the amount of times you had to decline his offers to spend quality time with you.
“Sorry, Eddie.” Is all you say, tucking some hair behind your ear as you walk down the halls, three books in your arms. You heard footsteps behind you, Eddie giving gentle pushes to people followed by ‘excuse me’s’ to try walking beside you.
“No no, I totally get it. Drive-in movies are outdated.” Eddie starts, beaming from his next suggestion as he shakes your shoulders a bit. “But playing DND isn’t.”
Dungeons and Dragons hasn’t failed in getting you to cave in whenever you swore to Eddie you were busy. Your slight obsession to the game was what brought you two close, playing together until feeling burned out. You knew Eddie probably thought he had reeled you in with this one, but from all the declines and distancing to your friends has made it easy to even refuse an activity you would agree on doing in a heartbeat.
“I can’t today.” You haven’t made eye contact with him once since the start of this conversation. The confused yet disappointed expression he’ll soon wear would bring a strong wave of guilt towards you. You can’t bear to face that, especially since you damn well know you can make time for anyone, just the determination of pleasing your parents is what’s pulling you back.
Eddie damn well knows too. Of course he does, he’s your best friend.
You halted your movements the minute Eddie got in front of you, blinking in complete surprise. “Okay, what? You’re always down in playing DND. What’s so important right now other than that?”
You scoff a little. “Heading to the library to study for Mrs. Eyerly’s next big biology test. You should try it sometime.” Adding the last part couldn’t be helped, you constantly nagged him to put more effort in his classes by joining you in study sessions. The repeated no’s irked you a bit.
Your small library trips weren’t unknown to him. The library card makes an appearance whenever you open your wallet around Eddie. Although, it isn’t a place you would call your second home.
“Bullshit. I refuse to believe someone study’s for two weeks straight and still be completely sane.”
You give off an eye-roll, sometimes forgetting how dramatic Eddie is. “Do you not see the books in my hands? I’m not bullshitting.”
You took a step to walk around him, but he quickly blocks your path a second time. “Give yourself a break, Y/N. There’s nothing wrong with doing that.”
Your eyes falls down to your shoes, avoiding his now softened gaze. “Yes there is.” You took off as soon as you replied, not looking back. You felt Eddie’s eyes watching you leave, holding back in catching up to continue the pathetic argument. Eddie knows this won’t be the last time your conversations will end like how it did. When next time rolls around, he’ll fight back.
The morning newspaper was waved at your face, Eddie pointing at a certain title through the list of movie showings tonight. “Aliens tonight, sweetheart. Me, you, and the rest of the group.”
You snagged it out from his hands, reading the timings. There was one time where it showed just before the sun will set, and you assumed that’s the timing Eddie was planning to go see. Bless him, for understanding you had no control over your early curfew but still made plans regardless because he worked along with it pretty well.
“There’s no reason to back down. You’ve been waiting on the edge of your seat for Aliens to release ever since the first one came out.” He’s right. Ever since the first movie, you’ve been obsessed with anything horror. Then you discovered the Alien comics, so you kept busy reading all of those while waiting for a continuation. A new interest of yours lead to talking Eddie’s ear off about all your own theories and fangirling. He never mind, he thought the first one was as amazing as you perceived it. If there’s one thing Eddie loved about you, is how you get into deep detailed conversations about your special interests.
“This might be a long movie. I’m not sure if I’ll be home in time for dinner.” You attempted. Not your best excuse, because when were you ever a big fan of your parents cooking? You rather stick with microwave TV dinners.
“Tell your parents after the movies you’ll have dinner at whoever’s friend’s house since they offered.” Eddie shrugged like it was no big deal, but there’s one thing that is.
“I think they’ll get a heart attack if I tell them I’m gonna watch Aliens.” You thanked your good friend, Jenna, at the time to convince your parents to let you spend the night then immediately buying two tickets to watch Alien. Some days you would do anything to go back to sweet ol’ 79, wanting to experience the film for the very first time again.
At this moment, especially considering how this past month has been for you, there’s no way your parents will buy you wanting to have a sleepover tonight at some friend’s house. They already have the mindset that since you’re a senior, you grew past all those “kiddy” stuff. Besides, you can’t even think of one lunch friend you’re close enough with to stay the night over.
“Uh, I know. Which is exactly why I’m giving you ideas on how to lie to them.” Eddie scoffs, seeing you stay in silence for a couple of seconds while kicking pebbles nearby.
He releases a sigh before speaking once more. “I don’t think you understand how not only me, but the whole group misses you.” A hand squeezes your shoulder, causing you to finally meet his eyes. “It’s okay to take a break once in awhile. Fuck your parents for telling you otherwise.”
You let out a breathy laugh, nodding your head understandably to his comforting words.  Comfort, All Eddie gives you in your troubling times without hesitation. You never had to verbally ask for him to reassure your growing worries away, he just knows when it’s the right time for his help. You believe without a doubt Eddie having the ability to read his friends’ moods like an open book so fantastically is his gifted sixth sense. He’s been by your side since day one, you were too blind beforehand to realize.
A barely visible smile tugs on the corner of your lips, saying ‘thank you’ by playfully punching his shoulder in your guy’s own made up physical language.
“Well, what are we waiting for? We have a movie to catch.”
The long line to the ticket booth brought no shock for everyone. The wait gave you a chance to catch up with everyone, also apologizing profusely when Gareth purposefully made you feel guilty for all the times you missed out on the hellfire campaign nights due to your stressful study sessions. Jeff shares his gratefulness that you’re here now and that is all that matters, Eddie agreeing.
The minute you sat down, you couldn’t contain your legs from bouncing with excitement. Every single scene got you watching intently, absolutely refusing to do a bathroom break until the very end of the movie. You wouldn’t dare to miss anything. Jeff and Gareth made a few whisper comments to each other during the middle of it, causing you to shush them by giving a single glare to your right.
You gained the urge to snack, Eddie giving you his popcorn. Apparently you were supposed to share, because when you handed back the paper bag empty, he crumbled it up and flicked it to your cheek before forcing Jeff or Gareth to get up and buy some more. You had no regrets, buttery popcorn tastes amazing while you watch people getting beaten down by a bunch of horrifying aliens. 
The movie eventually came to an end, all four of you walking out as everyone discussed their favorite scenes with the thrill of wanting to watch it a second time.
“Man, I’m telling you, Ripley is a total badass.” Eddie practically swooned. You wouldn’t understand why anybody would not have the hots for the main character. Having the guts to face giant creatures a second time willingly is the kind of bravery everyone is immediately attracted to.
“Newt is definitely my new favorite. She is so adorable.” You added in the topic of which character sucked and which didn’t.
“I for sure thought she was gonna die when those ugly son of a bitches took her.” Jeff said, shuddering a little in picturing himself ending up in Newt’s situation.
“What, you mean like this?” Suddenly you felt arms wrap tightly around your torso, feet high off the ground. “Eddie!” You yelped, getting spun around as he pretended to gobble on your neck with growling noises for dramatic theatrical points. Lips never touched your skin, but the close proximity along with the growling sent a ticklish chill down your spine.
Before you even had time to giggle, the playful attack ended as soon as it started. From how quick it all happened, the group all laughed due to your confused yet startled reaction afterwards.
Although, you smiled right after, because moments like these are exactly what you’ve missed so dearly.
You gave your goodbye waves to Gareth and Jeff before hopping in the car with Eddie in the driver’s seat. When arriving at the trailer, you mentioned you were a little bit hungry thanks to only filling your stomach up with popcorn.
“I can fix something up for you.” Eddie suggests but the nervous rubbing on the back of his neck tells you he doesn’t have much to serve a perfect gourmet meal. The possibility of eating ramen or Chef Boyardee ravioli didn’t matter, food is food.
“Don’t worry, I know you aren’t the world’s best chef.” You say with a bit of tease lacing your tone. Eddie lightly scoffs, crossing his arms. “It was one time I almost burnt this entire place down. One.”
You giggled, briefly going back to that memory. Eddie trying to surprise you with delicious banana bread for your birthday went south before he could even blink. Eddie learned two things that day. Baking is not his speciality, and there’s nothing wrong in going to the mall to buy a cute necklace instead, rather than going the extra mile and baking dessert as your gift.
“I miss hearing your laugh.” He says, catching you off guard. A nice shade of pink becomes visible on your cheeks, fiddling a strand of your hair whenever you’ve become too flustered to speak. You felt a little guilty as well, noticing you haven’t been the happiest usually this past month.
“Time to hear more of that.” Your thoughts became interrupted with Eddie joining you on the couch, gently tackling you down. You squeaked in complete surprise of feeling ten fingers tickling you silly on your sides.
“Noho EDDIE!” You rolled off the couch, scrambling to stand up quickly. You mentally scolded yourself for forgetting ever since Eddie discovered how ridiculously ticklish you are, he found just about every reason he could to tickle your breath away. You’re being a pain in the ass? He’ll focus on your worst spot until you’re spluttering out giggly apologies. You’re laughing when he’s in unlucky situations? He will give you something better to laugh about. Oh, you’re just minding your own business by simply existing? Too peaceful for Eddie, you’re getting a tickle attack whether you were prepared for it or not.
You kept glancing behind, making sure you would not trip on anything as you’re backing away in fear. Eddie has no problem chasing after you. You know this. Whenever you think you’ve successfully gotten away, he scares the absolute shit out of you from thin air. The speed Eddie gains when he runs is terrifying, to say the least.
“C’mon, don’t make this hard.” Eddie takes another step forward, opening his arms for a warm innocent hug. “Bring it in.”
You weren’t gonna give up so easily. You swore, actually. Although, you guessed God decided you needed this more than anything, because the minute you turned your heel to run, Eddie caught you by solely taking two big steps.
“All I asked for was a hug, but you decided to make a run from it?” The light squeezes on the lower set of your ribs instantly took you apart, burying your entire face in his chest which muffled your shrieking laughter. “My hugs can’t be that bad, can it?” Eddie asked you calmly like you weren’t slowly going limp in his arms.
“Yohou weren’t gohona hug meHEHE!” You squealed when his nimble fingers crept higher, aiming for under your arms.
A gasp escaped his lips, mocking offense. “Are you calling me a liar? I think you just did.” Hands meeting their destination, Eddie following you to the floor as your legs gave out.
He pulled your back against his chest, his arms wrapped around your torso giving his hands an easy time to skitter up and down to the top of your ribs and down to your hips, over and over again. Heels digging for purchase on the floor, hoping it’d give you a strength boost to rip away from his grasp.
He caught on. Of course Eddie caught on, because he only made the embrace tighter. “Going somewhere? Must suck to realize you can’t do anything but kick your legs endlessly.”
You grew nervous the more time Eddie spent skittering around your stomach area, dangerously going close to your hips. Targeting the hips earns a wild snort from you, then being sprinkled with hiccups in between. A priceless reaction, one Eddie loves to see. You were aware he is mere seconds from digging his two thumbs deeply on the soft spots near your hip bones.
“Eddie, plehehease. I’m smiling, okaHAY? I’m happy! No moHORE! GOHOD!” Stopping near your waist, squirming uncontrollably by anticipation. Eddie grins, one you don’t trust. The sudden latching on your hips made you jump a literal inch off the ground, grabbing onto his wrists like it would help the slightest in stopping everything.
“You’re right, and I’m so glad you are. Do you want to know what tells me you’re really happy?” You didn’t want to know, because you already know. Thumbs harshly drilling your hips nonstop for thirty seconds felt like hours on your poor end. Needless to say, you snorted. Loud. The hiccuping came shortly after, cuing Eddie to pull his hands back.
“Aaaand stopping.” Eddie beams in delight, being nice enough to rub away the leftover ticklish sensations for you. That is until he pinched your thigh to catch you off guard, rewarded with a shocked squeak. “Or am I?”
“You’ll be wanted for murder, because I’ll seriously die.” You over-exaggerate, showing Eddie a thankful look for finally leaving your ticklish spots alone and helping you up. ”I guess my work here is done.” Eddie says while dusting his hands together.
“Thank you, Eddie.” For not just getting you to loosen up. Not for having to fight for you to open your eyes and realize how the distance towards the people you love has taken a toll on your everyday lovable personality. Not for breaking the unhealthy cycle you forced yourself on, stressing weekly on being the top of all your classes purely for your parents pride in you.
For being right there, by your side, since day one. You never saw hesitation flicker across Eddie’s face whenever he had to step in to cheer you up. Eddie got his priorities straight, and that’s checking daily you’re comfortable and in a good mood before he can be.
He nodded a ‘you’re welcome’, his dimple smile revealing itself. “Now,” Eddie fetched two cans of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs, also setting two bowls on the small kitchen table. “Let’s feast, shall we?”
In which you’ve always wanted to get your hands on the fantasy game your parents strictly banned in your household because of their beliefs of teenagers gaining a satanic/demonic worship. You soon realize there’s one person in Hawkins High who runs a club campaign around the game. You see this as your only chance.
(HEAVILY inspired by @sugars-fluffy-escapes ler!Eddie hcs. Go check her blog out!)
This is a tickle fic. Please do not read if that’s not your thing.
You, who’s barely surviving senior year, can’t place your finger on where exactly this sudden bravery came from. You had countless nights standing in the mirror, going over your lines, on how to persuade the leader of Hellfire club to let you join them without making it obvious this is your first time ever playing.
Your lunch table was near his, ears always picking up their discussions on the next campaign night or Eddie slamming down another news article about concerned parents believing their children are doing satanic rituals in their basement all due to the fantasy roleplaying game. You knew members of Hellfire club all had one thing in common. Labeled freaks or outsiders.
A clique you’re far from, thanks to the sports you’ve forced yourself into to make many friends as possible so you wouldn’t end up with a reputation of a lost sheep. You aren’t what Eddie typically scouts out for when it comes to new members. Loyalty, you’ve heard, is also a big part when it comes to campaign nights. You’ve seen more than once Eddie never takes excuses where you can’t make it tonight so lightly.
You would turn down every game with zero hesitation if it means getting to play Dungeons & Dragons until night falls.
So here you are now, clinging your sports bag a little too tightly from nervousness, because you tugged on his jacket to grab his attention and now his eyes are meeting yours, confused. It’s not everyday Eddie gets stopped heading home by a chick who walks down the halls with the title “Princess of Hawkins”. Being a goody two shoes and passing tests with flying colors gets a little exhausting over time. Thanks to your strict religious parents, you won’t be making much changes to that reputation anytime soon.
“Hello, can I—uh maybe uhm—talk to you for a minute or so..?” Oh god, you already feel the lump in your throat forming. You sense it all going downhill from here. You watch him cross his arms, leaning against the car but you still felt a bit intimidated on how easily he looms over you. To be honest, all metal-heads you’ve come across whether it’s at school or Starcourt mall, they’ve all looked too terrifying to approach. If you ever admitted that, your parents would never shut up on how they’re always right and to always listen to them.
“Uh, sure. Okay. I don’t see why not.” He says ever so casually which does not ease your worry, because you know from here you’ll continue to stumble over your words and take forever to get straight to the point. You don’t remember when you started fiddling with your sleeves, but it’ll be another nervous habit added to the list.
“The uh—y’know the uh—Game? The Dungeons and Dragons game? Of course you know—“ Eddie deserves a medal for being so patient, you thought. Whenever you seem to have trouble finding the right words to your question, your friends half the time finish for you. Frustrating, to say the least.
“Well, I’ve been thinking..” you let yourself continue, releasing a held back sigh. Kicking a pebble around keeps you busy from not letting your eyes hold his stare for more than five seconds.
Oh, just rip the bandaid off!
And so you did. You told him you want to play, told him no, you can’t go buy the game yourself because your parents would kill you if they ever found out, and how he’s your only chance. Or so you see it. You may have fell on the more dramatic path of persuading, telling him it’s been your dream to indulge in the fantasy worlds the game holds and how you stay up on school nights writing away about your potential characters, and if he declines for whatever reason you will die on the spot. Maybe. Possibly.
Jesus Christ, you sound like a big nerd right now. Hence explains you checking your surroundings every few seconds to be clear your teammates aren’t searching for you on why you haven’t showed up to practice yet.
It’s because you’re trying to plead your way into Hellfire club with their leader Eddie “The Freak” Munson.
Who, you now realizing, hasn’t said a single word after your rushed explanation. You finally bring your eyes to his, a chuckle spilling out which is the last reaction you were expecting. Well, being laughed at was something you imagined. You wouldn’t take yourself seriously either.
“Pinch me if I’m dreaming, but did the Y/N L/N just ask what I thought she asked?”
“I don’t think I need to repeat myself.” You stand up a little straighter, trying to show off the little confidence you can find in you. You blame your parents for having such strict rules on you and being told what’s the essence of evil and what isn’t. The do’s and don’ts you’ve been following since you were a child gotten you into shit like this. Brought more curiosity and fascination to you than anything, something your parents are trying to steer away from. You truly believe this is your biggest interest, rather than the common curricular activities parents hope their children take apart in. Anything but getting together with a few close friends in a hideout, spreading the game apart on a table, and become heroes in a fantasy land which turns out to be all fake in the end.
Heaven forbid that.
“You sure the demons, ohh the orcs, the monsters,” Eddie wiggles his fingers high in the air, slowly bringing them close to your face in mock of a so-called monster about to capture you, of course morphing a petrifying face for special effects. “Won’t scare your socks off?”
You all but scoff at his little theatric. “Is it suppose to?” You were tempted to pull out your sketchbook right then and there. The sketchbook you never dared to show anybody, pages filled with pencil drawings of creatures you spent hours on. To the smallest ogre to the biggest dragon. The absolute joy it fuels you up with is unexplainable.
So then your Tuesday afternoon just got a little better after you parted your ways. Eddie suggested next Friday at the trailer he lives, where it’ll be you two together where he has a starter set for newcomers. You were a bit surprised it’s possible to play the game as a duet, Eddie assuring a player and a dungeon master would do just fine. I guess it’s best to start off easy than immediately being embarrassed by the group with your zero knowledge on how to play.
Although, your interactions with him didn’t end there. You spent the following days before next Friday rolled around the corner by making small talk. Those small talks turned into full conversations after school, letting him walk you to practice. To passing notes in history class you share with him, trying to get you to laugh which ends up you getting a stern look from the teacher.
You couldn’t wrap your head on how well you were getting along with Eddie Munson, sharing a few common interests. If you would’ve known the labeled Hawkins High freak isn’t mean and scary like everyone’s description of him, approaching the guy wouldn’t have been so hard for you. Hated by those who don’t understand him, but become so lovable once you do. You kind of acknowledge his dislike towards the popular cliques, feeling quite thankful he saw you weren’t a copy and paste of their stuck up personalities.
Friday finally arrived. You were fired up all throughout the day. Your assignment scores were most likely affected by how distracted your mind was, leg bouncing in all classes from eagerness. The minute the last bell rang, you sprang out of your chair, slightly startling those around you. Being the first one in your locker row, having few seconds of trouble when picking the combination code. You collected all your stuff, shoved them into your blue Jansport backpack that looks to be on it’s last life, then closed your lock—
“Boo!” Fingers suddenly squeezed your sides ever so lightly, but apparently with enough pressure to pull a giggly squeal from your lips.
It does not get unnoticed by him.
You can only guess who would be amused by seeing you jump unexpectedly, quickly turning around to land a soft slap on Eddie’s shoulder. His stupid grin is what you’re mostly glaring at because of how much it overtakes his facial features. “Tonight’s your night, Y/N.” He says while giving your shoulders a few victorious shoves. You lend him your bag to help carry, the fifteen pound books causing a strain on your poor back.
“My parents think I’m going over a friend’s house to help tutor.” You tell him as you hop into the passenger seat, grabbing the seatbelt. You do tutor often, so the excuse didn’t rise any suspicious questions from them. As long as you’re back home before dinner, you’ll be all good.
“Little do they know…” He begins with one of the many impressions he does when putting on a dramatic act, this one sounding deep and groggily. “Their daughter will be participating in a satanic ritual! Losing her soul to the dying king of VECNA!” You almost burst out laughing by how ridiculous he looks, shaking your head in disbelief.
Don’t be fooled to think his theatrics end so soon, for he is now faking a wholehearted sob which almost causes a double take from you. “My poor daughter, she’s now ruined. This game is killing her, oh please, my poor sweet daughter!” Couldn’t be more obvious Eddie is doing a perfect imitation of how your parents would react if they ever found out your real whereabouts. Even clutching his heart, you rate the acting five stars, a little too well done.
“You’re an idiot, Munson.”
You watch him set up the game on the kitchen table, not sure on what else to do besides stare. You slowly circle around to view photo frames on the walls, judge on the decor designs, and the choice of coloring in the living room. You heard chairs being pulled apart, seeing Eddie pat one to signal you to sit and let the fun begin.
In doing so, your opened backpack spilled out two cassette tapes by the force of carelessly slinging it off your shoulders. Before you had the time to quickly bend down and pick them up, Eddie has already beaten you to it.
“Tears for Fears? Abba? How cute.” He couldn’t resist but tease, gladly letting you snatch them from his hold as your cheeks are a tint of pink thanks to embarrassment.
“Shut up, let’s just start.”
So far, you’d be happy to say the amount of enjoyment your having has caused you to lose track of time. The street lights turning on which is your cue to head back home for dinner, but the game was far from being over.
You slayed every villain who dared to cross your young hero’s path, Kaliope Darkwalker. Class? Half-elf. Eddie once brought up it’s no fun to go the basic route of choosing your first character to be pure human or pure elf, so you settled with a bit of everything. Your charisma and wisdom levels aren’t complain worthy, overall patting yourself on the back for how great you’re doing. Eddie occasionally breaking character to acknowledge your small success.
Handed success tends to reveal a cocky side, though.
“This the best beasts this module can bring to the table? I call this light work.” You mindlessly say, not catching the swift demeanor change from Eddie in the corner of your eye. The smirk itching on his face speaks volumes, whipping out a character and slamming it in front of yours without warning.
You eye the figurine, painted red from head to toe with horns being on every place on his body. Wings spread out, claws looking like they get sharpened every five minutes. Buff to the core, making your character look like a total joke compared to this spawn of Satan.
“W..who’s this?” You meekly ask, seeing the future of you calling quits on this battle. Eddie seems thrilled you ask, standing a little to tower over you so he can earn some horror points. His eyes don’t blink once when his gaze falls upon yours, but you on the other hand tells a different story.
“Your most gruesome battle yet.” Eddie starts off, startling you by completely standing to wander agonizingly slow behind you. “This evil overlord has a not so pretty history of his victims. Mercy does not exist in his world, you’d be a fool to believe he’ll ever make this a fair fight.” The hairs on your arms rise up from his low whispers close to your ear, cursing mentally to yourself on how terrifyingly great Eddie is in being in character. Or maybe you’re just a wimp, one of the two.
Before you had the time to ask what exactly are his most effective attacks, Eddie’s introduction speech hasn’t come to an end. “Do you know what replenishes his mana?” A question, but Eddie answers before you even registered it.
“Laughter.”
Well, that’s a new one. You’re not sure if you heard him correctly, but Eddie flat out doesn’t flinch by your puzzled expression settling in. You decide to call him out on his bullshit. “You’re making this up. This guy came out of nowhere, I was heading to visit a merchant. What’s his deal?”
A d20 and d4 dice rolls to your direction, hesitantly picking the two up. You look up to see him lay back in his chair, releasing a relaxed sigh. “What are you waiting for? Place your attack.” You must’ve looked like you were waiting for his permission, but in all honesty you didn’t felt the need to try knowing how this fight would end. There’s no way in hell the total roll would equal or exceed this beast’s armor class.
Eddie’s aware. Of course he is, that little shit.
“You know I won’t win.” Eddie tsked, resting his elbows on his knees to level more with you. “Now, you won’t with that attitude.” His chair scoots in a little closer, ready to be fueled of entertainment on your poor attempts. Your poor, poor attempts where it’ll lead you nowhere. “Best hope luck is on your side, Y/N.”
Needless to say, you found yourself seconds after covering your face in loss, head hanging low in disappointment. You weren’t dumb. This outcome was seen miles away, but there wasn’t a door to escape. You slump defeatedly in your chair, blowing a couple of hair strands away from your face. Your attention goes back to Eddie, seeing him stand before rounding the table in a questionable stance.
Almost like he’s about to pounce.
“A very unfortunate turn of events on this young hero. Kaliope watches in terror the monster cornering her, fingers wiggling high above the half-elf, prepared to deliver his own brutal attack.” You got to your feet quick as lightning, putting distance between you and those goddamn wiggly fingers you have no interest in finding out where they’ll land.
“You’re kidding, right?” You say in hopes he reassures everything is for the sake of dramatic effect. Well, sorry, but he doesn’t. Instead gifts you a grin, that stupid grin you can’t help but notice a dimple poking out. You also can’t help but notice your heart fluttering whenever he does that. Huh.
“There is no shame, in running.”
You did not need to be told twice. There’s really nowhere to run off to, betting you’ll get caught in a minute. All you know is the trailer is not fit for a full on chase, so you end up outside. You thought participating in track your freshman year would help you out at a time like this, but arms wrapped around your torso and soon your feet weren’t touching the ground anymore.
Eddie plopped himself down on the couch, your back against his chest. You felt fingers crawl in position on the top set of your ribs, going straight for the kill and he doesn’t even know it yet. “Ready to face the consequences of your actions?”
“You literally told me to ru—WAHAIT!” A ear piercing screech immediately ripped from your throat, Eddie halting his moves because he seriously couldn’t debate whether he just accidentally hurt you or it tickled badly. “Don’t tell me I found your killer spot? So soon?” There is no need to confirm, but his growing smirk caused you to panic by the second.
“Eddie plehehease, let’s taHAHALK!” A new strong wave of laughter interrupted your sentence, squirming left to right as fingers danced around your rib cage like he’s playing some sort of guitar. Your laughs are the tunes, sweet music to his ears. “Sorry, what? I didn’t catch what you said.” He leans over to hint at you to repeat yourself, and you gladly would if he didn’t fucking stop switching the paces of his squeezes to leave you going crazy.
“I cahan’t! ihihit TICKLES!” A squeal spills out whenever Eddie scratches dangerously close to your navel, catching onto this discovery. A fake gasp escapes his lips, a mock of sympathy lacing his tone. “Are you serious? Shit, I’m sorry.” The sweet spot around your stomach area was then greeted by ten fingers pinching and prodding on every place of skin they found. Your cackles shot an octave higher, gripping onto his wrists to pull them apart with all the strength you could muster up, but they never budged. In response to your failed attempt, Eddie began to crept his way up to your underarms.
“NO! Noho! Don’t you fucking dare you big—“ whatever insult you were about to hit him got thrown out the window by his blunt nails going to town on your underarms, getting trapped by your arms snapping down to your sides. “No no, finish that sentence. I’m a big what?”
You completely went ballistics. Eddie joined your laughter, but for your over the top hilarious reactions because of a little tickling. In your opinion, you surely don’t consider this a little tickling. Your first wheeze came out, after that your laughs became hoarse. He took this as his cue to stop, for now, watching you suck in air greedily. “Anywhere buhut there..” you told him like he wasn’t already aware you couldn’t handle being tickled at that deadly spot.
“Well, you see, I would go somewhere else but my hands seem to be stuck.” Eddie wiggled his fingers for a few seconds, as if he’s attempting to pull them out. You giggled hard, but quickly raised your arms up to free his hands. You were fooled to believe it ended there, climbing off but to only be pushed back down on his lap by a curious tweak of your hips.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Eddie asked then placed rapid squeezes on your hipbone, catching you off guard that you snorted. A sound that makes you want to die on the spot. Eddie removed his fingers from your hips, seeing you crumble in a heap of leftover giggles by his side. “Wow, I’ll save that type of fun for another time.” He raises his hands up in surrender, softly smiling down at you to let you know he’s done. No more surprise attacks.
You rub the ticklish sensation off your sides, taking a cold glass of water from Eddie and thanking him. This wasn’t something you imagined how this night would go, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. You had fun. A type of fun you don’t normally have with your lunch table friends. A fun where you truly could express who you are without worrying about judgmental eyes falling on you.
“You’re such an asshole.” You broke the silence, shaking your head, but he knew you meant it in a playful manner. You raised an eyebrow, eyeing him up and down before speaking. “I wonder if you’re just as ticklish as me.”
Eddie backed away with his hands held up defensively, giving you a stern look. “Calm down, let’s not do something you’ll regret.” You scoffed as you trailed your eyes outside, seeing the stars scattered around the dark sky. A beautiful full moon to be adored.
Hold on. How long have you been here?
You jump up from the couch, running to the kitchen to snatch your backpack. The urgency got Eddie to chuckle, opening the door for you to run out. “I’m assuming your dinner is now cold?” You nod frantically, cursing to yourself mentally for not keeping an eye on how fast the time went. Your parents are definitely gonna bombard you with questions the minute you step inside the house.
You insisted on walking home since Forest Hills trailer park isn’t far from your neighborhood, but he wasn’t having it. After a couple seconds of bickering, you eventually climbed into the passenger seat. You weren’t really looking forward on walking home in the chilly darkness, anyways.
He parked next to the curb, tossing you your backpack once you were fully out. You waved a goodbye, making your way to the front porch. Eddie stayed to make sure you got inside safely, but before you searched for your house key you glanced behind you.
“I’ll see you next Friday, maybe?” You asked, both of you sharing a smile as he shoots you a thumbs up. You tiptoed to grab a plate of the leftovers your family had, heading up to your room to continue on the history flash cards you made yesterday for your upcoming exam. Feeling blessed your parents are already in bed when you arrived, so you didn’t have to frantically find an excuse on why you’re an hour late.
In the end, you have gotten what you wanted. Playing the game of your dreams, experiencing the thrill you knew it would give you. You may have also made a new friend along the way, a person you never thought you would get along with. Someone who you’ve been told to stay away from. Although, the more time you spent with the guy who had his name bounced around in negative conversations, you did not see what half of Hawkins high are seeing. You did not see a freak, or someone mean and scary. Eddie Munson is any ordinary guy trying to get through high school like the rest of the attended students, the one difference being having a hobby that isn’t art or sports.
It’s the love for a innocent fantasy game. The love of creating your own campaign with your friends who are more than happy to get together and go on countless adventures, never guessing how it’ll end. The game brings the best imagination out of the people you play with, and that is something you truly admire about your new friend, Eddie Munson.
Summary: in which Dustin doesn’t know when to stop bickering until he hits a nerve. Steve finally decides to put him in line as a fair warning.
Word count: 1,149
DO NOT tag as ship.
“All my quarters. Gone, just like that. For nothing.”
“Dude, I could’ve destroyed that guy if I was given another chance. I had a feeling.” Steve argued, closing the front door behind him.
“You said that like fifty times! You were stuck on round 3 for god knows how long.” Dustin yelled from across the living room, sliding down on the couch defeatedly.
Steve took a Orange Fanta soda can from the fridge, leaning against the kitchen counter while taking multiple sips. “Maybe Ryu just sucks. I should’ve picked a different character, huh?”
Dustin sighed. “Or maybe you just suck.”
Inviting Steve to the arcade to play the newly released game, Street Fighter, sounded like a nice idea to hangout this morning to Dustin, since Mike and Lucas weren’t free to get ahold of. If only Dustin knew Steve would blow off all his saved up quarters to be stuck on round 3, struggling to the core with every hard toggle on the joystick, he wouldn’t have a problem to go by himself instead.
“Don’t act like you weren’t struggling to get past round 3 either.” Steve shot back, eyeing him from the kitchen.
“How do you suck at fighting in real life and in video games?” Dustin muttered for him to only hear, but apparently it wasn’t quiet enough.
“What was that?” Steve set his soda aside, starting to make his way towards the boy. This caused Dustin to sit up straight, feeling a little alarmed but that didn’t stop his next bold response.
“You. Can’t. Fight.”
“Okay, y’know what? Get up.”
Dustin happily got on his feet, crossing his arms while giving Steve a wide smug smile to irritate him more. Dustin knows how easily Steve gets riled up, over the smallest comments than anything. Whether it’s about his hair, his slight ego, or his horrible pickup lines towards girls, he’ll give you the blowup reaction you were earning for.
“Me, you, let’s go.” Steve got himself into a pounce-like position, looking ridiculous to Dustin.
Dustin scoffs out a laugh, but wiped his smile away when Steve barely budged. “You’re serious?”
Steve’s next move answered Dustin’s question pretty quick.
Arms wrapped around the boy’s torso, attempting to knock him over on the couch. Dustin lets out a surprise shriek, not letting it happen by pushing back. They circled around, foreheads bumping every few seconds. The goal of this mini fight was obvious. Whoever lands on the ground first, has lost.
Dustin felt himself sliding on the wooden tile, knees almost touching the ground. Of course, he couldn’t let that happen. Especially if he’s up against Steve. The sort of pride that man would gain would be something he would never hear the end of.
In order to flip the tables, Dustin hooked his leg behind Steve’s left leg, making him lose footing in hopes he goes tumbling down on the ground. Unfortunately, the plan went south. They both landed on the ground with a thud, taking a few seconds to themselves to let out a few pained grunts.
Their stilled movements came to a end, both trying to stand up faster than the other. In the middle of it all, Steve’s hand were placed firmly on Dustin’s shoulder to give himself a little push in standing up. A squeak shoved away all the rumbling noises, Steve automatically knowing he accidentally brushed his fingers on the boy’s neck.
Getting up was suddenly Steve’s last priority as of right now.
Steve sat on top of Dustin’s flailing legs, fetching for a wrist in the process. Dustin isn’t stupid, he knows exactly where this is headed. The amount of times Steve tickled him senseless because he needed to “watch his tone”, Steve’s words, should’ve been enough for Dustin to start biting his tongue. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Some would blame Dustin’s secret mini enjoyment of tickling, but he would deny it until the day he dies.
“Get off! You’re heavy!” Dustin wailed while weakly hitting Steve’s chest with one free arm, but it immediately went down when there was a tweak of his side. The tweak instantly turned into fast scribbling, reveling in Dustin’s snorts that never fails to make the people around him laugh when hearing them.
“Three…” Steve began the countdown, the scribbling to Dustin’s sides never slowing their pace. Once Steve reaches to one with Dustin still on the floor, he will walk home tonight in victory. Of course, Dustin has the chance to worm a hand at Steve’s stomach which will result in the man crumbling down in a heap of giggles, leading Dustin in the path of winning this hilarious fight instead.
Although, would Steve play fair and let him have the strength to do that? No, no he would not.
“Two…” Steve slid his hands higher up, now playing his ribs like a piano. Ears picking up on soft thuds behind him, seeing Dustin digging his heels on the floor to try and buck Steve off. Took only a third attempt to realize that plan isn’t gonna work anytime soon.
Dustin tried to sneakily worm his hand towards Steve’s leg, aiming to pinch rapidly on the man’s thigh. It took Steve not even a second to catch on and immediately go in for the kill before Dustin managed to flip the tables successfully and go all merciless on his ass.
“One!” Steve’s last destination was Dustin’s stomach, the spot that nails in the coffin. Every scribble, squeeze, and digging got Dustin’s snort filled laughs come to an end. When silence filled the air, Steve halted his movements and took a stand.
“Your stomach never fails to shut you up.” Steve said while smiling down at Dustin’s breathless state. Targeting Dustin’s stomach doesn’t reward you giggles for three minutes, more like five seconds. Then, it goes straight to silent laughter. That little knowledge comes in handy, if you ask Steve.
“Yohou…cheated..” Dustin told between breaths, making his way to lay down on the couch to heal from the brutal attack. Steve rolled his eyes, but does know damn well he did, in fact, cheat. He would defend himself by saying if anybody found out their opponent is deathly ticklish, you couldn’t help but get your hands curious. Especially if it results in giving you an extra helping hand in winning.
“Hey Steve, can I tell you something?” Dustin asks, tugging Steve’s sleeve to get him to kneel down so he can whisper in his ear. Although it was just the two of them in the house, Steve complied.
“You still suck in fighting.”
Dustin will never learn. Steve’s aware, but why still tackle him down on the couch and tickle him to pieces yet again? Maybe because Steve is also aware that Dustin, despite the fact he likes to be a pain in the ass on purpose, enjoys the bonding affection he’ll never blatantly admit to.
