#hes got the same thing going on with his cool dude muscles

[24bughours]

Mini comic i drew the first panel of literal months ago and decided to finish in one sitting

After this incident early in their friendship, Undyne would find out that

1. BOTH of the skeleton brothers can break the laws of physics, and 90% of the time its in really mundane ways

2. She IS still buffer than Papyrus, she was just shocked he had any "muscle mass" at all

#schrodinger's muscles #seriously. everyone talks about how sans has a weird invisible quantum physics tummy but what abt my boy papyrus #hes got the same thing going on with his cool dude muscles #and this was also mostly me being self indulgent with the undershirt thing but. we dont have to talk about that #undertale #papyrus #papyrus undertale #skelebros #undyne #undyne undertale #i really like drawing undyne. like a lot #i made a of her like 2 years ago and now its the only way i can draw her. i just love it too much #and i just love her okay #papyrus & undyne #my art #mini comic #undertale comic #undertale fan comic #undertale fanart #can you tell that i get lazy with my panel layouts

[muscleloverz69]

Jock Juice

Ned was very anxious about moving into his dorm. Without knowing anyone at the university he had no choice but to go random and as luck would have it the only spots left were in the athletes housing. Ned had no interest in sports and found jocks completely obnoxious. Being a nerdy gay man Ned tried his best to steer clear but now his hands were tied. When Ned walked into his room he was met by a total jock. 

Jack was well over 6 feet tall with a square jaw, biceps that stretched the sleeves of his tee and pants that left little to the imagination. Ned was embarrassed when he felt his dick twinge but he quickly ignored it. “Hey bro you must be the roomie, sup.” Jack extended a fist which Ned awkwardly bumped.

Jack turned out to be not nearly as bad as Ned was anticipating. Actually he was pretty nice. He did come back really late from parties and his football gear was littered around the entire room but Ned enjoyed being able to watch Jack change from the corner of his eye. Ned was being driven crazy, staring at the bulging muscles and broad figure of his roommate.

One day as Jack pulled off his pants after a day of classes, he noticed Ned staring at his big bulge. “Hey dude it's ok to look, I’m actually gay too.”

Ned felt his face go red but his mind was reeling from the revelation. “Oh sorry-.” Jack interrupted, “Seriously dude it's fine honestly I’d be down to have some fun with you but you need to know something first.”

Ned couldn’t believe his ears, “You’d want to fuck me?”

“Yeah but dude the thing is I have a curse.”

Ned looked confused as Jack explained, “I used to be a nerd just like you but one day I fucked a jock and now I look like this.” Jack flexed one of his thick biceps.

“Now whenever someone comes in contact with my fluids they become a jock too, it doesn't matter what they looked like before, nerds, girls, old guys they all become jocks.”

Ned stared at his sexy roommate for a moment, he couldn’t be serious, this had to be some kind of prank but he didn’t care. Ned crossed the room and pulled Jack into a deep kiss. Ned laughed in his head for a minute before he felt a gentle fog fall on his brain. Jack pushed Ned off “Bruh I wasnt fucking with you, are you ok.”

“Bro--I mean Jack, I feel fine I think. Whatever, I'm going to bed.” Ned wanted to die. He thought Jack was a nice guy. Why would he pull such a mean prank, although he had no idea why he called Jack bro.

The next morning Ned woke up earlier than usual. He looked himself down in the mirror, he looked the same. Since he woke up early though Ned decided he might as well do something productive and went over to the campus gym.

Ned got to the gym and quickly remembered he had no idea what he was doing. That’s when Jack came up to him, “Hey bro, sorry about last night I guess you’re into the gym now, need some help?”

“Uh sure that’d be cool dud--Jack thanks.”

The two guys worked out together for the next couple hours, after Jack handed Ned a towel and as he did his sweaty hand brushed into his roommates. Ned hardly took note but did feel very tired from the workout.

Ned and Jack walked to the showers together. Ned started rubbing his body down with soap as he noticed some muscle he didn’t remember having. Nowhere near as much as Jack but his shoulders did seem broader, his chest protruded out just a bit, and his abs were showing. As he continued soaping his body he noticed his dick. It was throbbing hard and not only that it looked larger than he ever remembered it. Ned was hit with an overwhelming burning lust. He furiously started jacking off in the shower before cumming all over the tile floor.

Meanwhile Jack felt worried about Ned. He knew the kiss from the night before would result in some minor changes but as long as he was careful it didn’t have to go further unless he knew that’s what Ned wanted. Jack was torn though cute nerds like Ned were exactly his type and he wanted nothing more than to worship that thin nerdy body. 

Later that night Ned tried to study for his Calc exam but couldn’t remember anything. He was sure the questions must have been written wrong because nothing made sense. On top of that all he could think about was Jack’s body. He was losing his mind.

Ned stood up and faced Jack who was mindlessly scrolling on his phone. “Bro I need you inside me.” Jack met Ned’s start 

“You sure bro?”

Ned jumped on top of Jack quickly ripping off his pants revealing muscular thighs and an almost footlong dick. Jack yelped in surprise but couldn’t stop himself from letting Ned’s tongue slide down his shaft. Jack’s hips bucked as Ned got face fucked. Pre entered Nick’s mouth, causing his biceps to enlarge to 18 inches, his face sharpened into a chiseled look although Jack could hardly notice as Nick deepthroated his monster dick. 

Jack began moaning louder, gripping Nick’s enlarged muscular ass before cumming right down Nick’s throat. Nick swallowed load after load before rolling off to the side. Nick felt an even heavier fog descend on his brain. All he could think about was sports, working out and, bussy.

Nick got up and tried to put on his tee shirt which was now skin tight. “Dude that was fuckin sick!” Jack was still laying in bed disappointed. Jack stared at Nicks new thick cock and massive muscles uninterestedly. Jack was really only attracted to nerds.

Nick laughed “Bro I gotta find some other nerd to blow me.”

#jock tf #nerd to jock #flexing #gay #male transformation #personality change

[astraveritas]

just bunch of stuff I noticed observing zodiac men 

★ men with aries placements are like taurus men and their touching but on crack. it’s not gentle and sensual, these men will try to fight you, make you wrestle with them, pull your hair, tease you just to get you to react and once you do react their eyes light up, like they just won a contest. “come on fight with me, you don’t wanna fight cause you know you’ll lose” headasses

★ if taurus placements man is attracted to you he will find a way to touch you or get close to you somehow, he needs to lean really close to you cause he just can’t hear what you’re saying, he has tripped and now has to steady himself by grabbing your arms or waist, “those stairs look really steep, here grab my arm”. they are so predictable it’s hilarious.

★ men with gemini placements performing their best stand up routine and staring at the person they like after every joke just to see if they made them laugh like *👀 please laugh*

★ you know men with cancer placements are taking you seriously and trust you if they invite you to their home. their home is really important place to them. it’s where their personality shines. it’s who they are. it’s their walls full of pictures of family and friends. photo albums and books their mother read to them when they were little and they could never throw them away, old concert tickets, blankets their grandmother made for them. they can’t let go of these things. so when they let you inside their little shell, you can tell they put huge amount of trust in you, they don’t do that to just anyone.

★ leo placements men are such attention whores when they like you. you meet and the next thing you know he’s taking off his shirt to show you his tattoos and muscles (leo placements men always end up half naked, it’s kinda their thing) and then running off to show you this cool trick he can do. overenthusiastic 5 year old and the family gathering energy, but he’s 26.

★ “peels tangerines and feeds the slices to you” school of virgo placement men flirting. they are very concerned by your vitamin intake. they actually start to be concerned a lot, like “did you eat breakfast? aren’t you cold? you look cold. I’ll go grab you a coat. and a scarf, six months ago you got sore throat without it”. like how do you even remember that? even I don’t remember that. they can’t have you walking around with a sore throat. they notice a lot of stuff, and try to be as useful and helpful as they can be.

★ libra placements men really focus on good manners in their partner, they want someone tactful and polite. they don’t want someone that could embarrass them in public. an acquaintance of mine was trying to flirt with this dude with libra venus/mars conjunction, out of nowhere she started cursing really loud while telling a story and let me tell you, the way everyone could see the visible disgust in this man's eyes, he said nothing, but if he had pearls he would be clutching them like an old lady in church.

★ if a man with scorpio placements is into you, you can play “where’s waldo?” with him, cause he will magically show up in the same place as you, and you catch him staring at you from behind a trashcan like “oh, there he is”. he will also start asking your friends about you, gathering information on you like he’s working for interpol.

★ men with sagittarius placements are flirting royalty, I know this title goes to libras or geminis a lot of times, but sagittarius placements men just bring more fun, laughter and fire into it. libras are polite and charming as hell in an old fashion way, geminis are witty and can rope you into flirtatious banter easily, but if anyone can flirt with you in a way you’re ready to risk it all, drop all the caution to the wind, and go live with him in a shitty van, it’s a sagittarius placement.

★ men with capricorn/saturn dominance in their chart really struggle with flirting. they are either not interested in this at all, so the person trying to flirt with them will feel like they are talking to a brick wall or they look like deer in the headlights when they realize someone is trying to flirt with them. either way, good luck to everyone who will try.  

★ I noticed that when they like someone too much men with aquarius placements will straight up pretend that this person does not exist, it’s weird. they will tell you they like this person and when said person is near they avoid eye contact, stand in a way you can’t see their face, they clam up and become shy, they go from pretty chatty with everyone to silence once their crush shows up. it’s completely different from their usual descriptions, fastest 180 I’ve ever seen. 

★men with pisces placements will try to get you alone, cause they’re trying to have little one on one time to “vibe” and “connect”, and then they’re like “crazy how you were in my dreams last night hahahaha” *👀👀👀* they’re always trying to make your relationship seem deeper than it is pretty quick. you had one “deep” conversation and now he thinks you’re his twin flame or something.

#astro notes #astrology notes #astro observations #astrology observations #*

[sadhours]

simmer down

billy hargrove x f!reader

masterlist • requests are open! • read on ao3

summary: being tommy hagan’s sister had it’s perks, but when the new kid from California catches your attention, it seems like more of a curse than a good thing

warnings: 18+ minors dni, Steve x Reader, underage drinking, partying, smut, p in v, angst, Billy is a mystery, Steve/Nancy, slow burn, forbidden romance

Being Tommy Hagan’s sister had its advantages. Your freshman year of high school, you had a guaranteed spot with the cool kids and an invite to every party. Tommy wasn’t protective by any means. You two were buddies, you and Carol were buddies and of course, you and Steve Harrington were buddies. Freshman year was a blur, until Nancy ripped Steve away from the group. Still, the three of you were determined to keep the good times rolling. Sure, you spent every single Saturday, Sunday and Monday hungover but it was worth it. You think.

Maybe you didn’t remember the parties very well but hell, you knew you’d had fun. Plus, you were lucky enough to lose your virginity to the King on your fifteenth birthday and even if he pretended you didn’t exist once he started dating Nancy, it was worth it. Okay, so you weren’t totally over Steve but you were coping just fine. Carol didn’t let you mope for long. There were too many parties to go to.

Then one day, Steve Harrington is pushed to the very back door of your mind. Perched on your brother’s car, sharing a cigarette with him and his girlfriend, a pretty blue Camaro whips through the parking lot and slides into the parking spot across from you. A small, angry redhead bolts out, slamming the door and zips up to the middle school on a skateboard. Every head in the parking lot is turned to the muscle car and the gorgeous, denim-clad, mulleted blonde motherfucker. He takes your breath away. Takes Tommy and Carol’s breath away. The guys dripping in cool. Not another person like him has stepped foot in this midwestern hell hole. The three of you can’t wait to sink your claws in him. He flicks his cigarette away, a small hint of a smirk curling his lips and your eyes follow the Marlboro as it tumbles to the ground. The fucking guy didn’t even smoke half of it. The nicotine fiend in you is tempted to snatch it up, but that’s like, super uncool.

You watch as Tina and her girls eyes linger on the stranger, practically salivating at the way his ass looks in his jeans. It must take at least ten minutes for the fucker to pull his pants up.

“Who the hell is that?” Carol wonders aloud for the group.

“One bitchin’ dude,” Tommy scoffs, an impressed tilt to his voice.

;;;

Tommy moves fast. You know this. He had an easy way about him, friendly even though he was the biggest asshole you knew. That blue Camaro is parked on the curb in front of your house. Your parents are outside, doing the yard work necessary to prepare for the cold front sweeping in. Your whole life was spent in Hawkins so you know nothing else but god, do you yearn for year long summers.

You were eager to listen to the new record you’d just bought. A quick wave to your parents and you’re opening the front door, flooded with the sound of Metallica’s The Four Horsemen. Tommy’s pulled out his only metal album to impress the new kid. The feeling in your gut isn’t new. You used to get the same excited feeling whenever Steve was over. However, this was different because Steve knew you. He watched you grow up. You’d known him since you were little. This new guy hasn’t played Barbie’s with you from the age eight to twelve.

You take a deep breath before heading towards Tommy’s room, leaning against the doorframe. Tommy’s head banging obnoxiously, Carol is checking her nails looking bored and the blonde boy is nodding his head along to the bass line. He’s got a cigarette pinched to between his fingers and as he’s bringing the filter to his lips, he sees you.

He takes a drag, smirks and says, “Hey.”

You’ve never loved your brothers ability to make friends more.

“Hi,” you try to say in the coolest way you can.

Tommy pauses his thrashing and motions to you, “Oh, Billy! This is my sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy’s sister,” he drawls.

You tell him your name, awkwardly lingering in the doorway before Carol’s tugging you inside.

“Whatcha got in the bag?” Billy asks, fingers pressing to the brown paper.

You swallow, “Uh, just a record.”

“Which one?”

You pull out the cellophane wrapped vinyl, displaying the copy of Out of the Cellar by Ratt you’d just excitedly purchased with your allowance.

“Oh, fuck yeah! Atta girl,” he cheers as he snatches it out of your hand.

The praise causes a flutter downstairs. Five minutes into meeting this fucking guy and you’re already a puddle. The excitement at impressing him is unmatched.

Billy shimmies around you, places a strong hand on your hip as he passes to stop the Metallica record and replace it with your new one. You plop down on the floor next to Carol, eyes drawing back up to Billy as he turns the volume up, cigarette hanging between his lips. He bobs his head, his earring dangling against his wispy curls and you don’t like feeling this arousal while in the same room as your brother and his girlfriend.

“Did you see Steve with the princess today? Ugh, gag me with a spoon,” Carol nudges your knee while mimics gagging herself.

Billy snorts, “What’s the deal with that guy? People kept telling me I was gonna be the new King, whatever the fuck that means.”

Tommy chimes in, “He used to be the King. We were good buddies until he started sticking his dick in the priss.”

“Steve’s nice,” you shrug. Only Carol knows what happened between the two of you and you’d sworn her to secrecy, too embarrassed to let your brother know you’d fallen for his best friend. She gives you a pointed look before rolling her eyes.

“He used to be cool, now he’s nice,” Tommy deflects, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He pulls a beer of the sixer and tosses it to you, which you fumble to catch.

You tap your nail on the tap, trying your best to rid the memories of Steve kissing you late at night from your head. You know if you glance over to Billy, they’ll dissipate but then you’ll be imagining kissing him and you don’t want that either.

“So where’d you move from?” you ask, not looking up from the beer.

Billy sits next to you with the thud, his knee knocking yours which absolutely does not shoot heat to between your legs. He lifts his can to you, indicating he’d like to cheers you. Sometimes Tommy’s friends did things like this with you and while he wasn’t protective of you, he made you promise that friends were out of the question. You could not hook up with any of them. Acquaintances were fine and while Billy was only that right now, you know Tommy wanted to be good buddies with him so you were awaiting the conversation. You were getting ahead of yourself. A cheers does not mean Billy’s attracted to you.

“California,” he replies as you clink aluminum cans. “Much better than this shithole.”

“You’re telling me,” Carol whines, “I fucking hate this place.”

Billy drops his cigarette in the empty beer can sitting in the middle of the floor, apparently the designated ashtray. He leans his head back to look at you, “What’s there to do here?”

You feel shy under his gaze, almost choking on your swig of beer once your eyes meet his. You clear your throat and swallow hard, “Uh, parties, mostly. Hang out in the woods. Go to convenience stores.”

“Ah. I expected more hick shit. Ya know, tipping cows, shooting guns, kissing cousins,” Billy chuckles, biting his lip as his eyes dart between your brother and his girlfriend.

“Carol knows about kissing cousins,” Tommy sneers, throwing his girlfriend under the bus.

“Do you have to tell everyone?” she hurls a rolled up sock at him. She turns to Billy, “He’s exaggerating. We’re not even blood related.”

Billy laughs, a cackle that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can’t help but giggle. You’d heard the story a million times. Carol was at a family reunion and didn’t even realize the guy was a distant cousin. However, shit, it’s a family reunion. Who’s trying to get their rocks off at a family reunion?

“You guys smoke grass?” Billy changes the subject and the three of you nod in unison. “Know where I can get some?”

“Eddie “The Freak” Munson,” Tommy tells him, “I think I have some, though. Hold you over in the meantime.” He gets up and sifts through his sock drawer, returning with a tied off ziploc bag to hand to Billy.

“And now,” Billy takes it and shoves it in his pocket, “We’re best buds.”

Tommy beams at the declaration. And with those words, Billy Hargrove has just become verboten. Damn it.

Tommy tells you as much when Billy leaves, rattling off about his dad being an asshole and he’s got to get home before he does.

“I saw those eyes,” Tommy raises a scolding finger at you, “Don’t even try it. He’s too cool.”

“Aw, Tommy,” Carol pouts, “Let her have some fun.”

“No,” you raise your hands defensively, “You didn’t see any eyes. I don’t even think he’s cute.”

Tommy scoffs, “Yeah, right. Even I think the guy is hot.”

Carol raises an eyebrow, “You going queer on me, big boy?”

“Me? Queer?” Tommy laughs, “Let me show you how untrue that is.”

“Okay, ew, I’m leaving,” you push yourself off the ground and run out of the room, closing the door behind you.

;;;

“Does Tina throw bitchin’ parties?” Billy asks you, taking a drag off his cigarette before passing it.

You take it and try to ignore the tingling feeling on your lips as you take a hit. You’re leaning against the trunk of his Camaro, Carol and Tommy are nearby but too busy making out to listen to the conversation.

“I guess?” you reply, “All the parties here kind of bleed together. They’re fun and all, just… the same thing.”

Billy looks over to your brother with his tongue down Carol’s throat, “They do that all the time, huh?”

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” you shrug.

“What about you?” he turns slightly towards you, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

You can feel the way your cheeks redden, “I don’t know. No one’s really caught my attention, I guess.”

“Is he protective?”

You shake your head, “No, the opposite. Tommy doesn’t give a shit what I do. I just haven’t met anyone I like in that way.”

“Yeah,” Billy muses, “I know the feeling.”

That catches your attention. Every girl at Hawkin’s High is throwing themselves at him but not a single one special enough to tickle his fancy. You included.

“I’m young, anyways,” you deflect, “I have plenty of time to find the man of my dreams.”

“Oh, yeah?” Billy digs his canine into his lower lip, “What’s the motherfucker you’ve dreamed up like?”

You, you don’t say. “Oh, I don’t know!”

“You’ve thought about it. Is he nice, like King Steve?” Billy raises his eyebrows, “Is he a freak like Munson?”

No, he’s blonde with a mullet and pretty eyelashes.

“He hasn’t made himself known yet,” you urge, “Maybe he’s a millionaire, maybe he’s a rockstar.”

“You want Vince Neil?” he knocks he elbow into yours.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you shrug.

Billy cackles, “All you chicks are the same.”

You scoff, “Oh and guys aren’t? Like you’re not pining over Lita Ford.”

“Nah,” he laughs, “Not my thing.”

“What is your thing then?” you ask, eyes meeting briefly before you can’t handle the heat of them. Billy’s eyes are too pretty. The bluest you’ve ever seen.

“Someone real,” he says, sincerely and it tugs your heartstrings.

“Billy, the romantic,” you tease, shoving your hands in your pocket.

“Far from it, sweetheart,” he pats your shoulder before pushing himself off the bumper and heading into the building as the bell rings.

Sweetheart drips down your throat and curls around your heart.

;;;

It’s not much of a costume. It’s a short skirt, fishnets and a too tight top. You can say you’re Madonna but how many girls are going as Madonna. You just want to look hot. Want Billy to look at you like you’re more than Tommy’s little sister. Like you’re some video vixen and he just cannot keep his hands to himself. It’s a flourishing thought that you push deep down. Tommy can’t control you but you think of the conversation you’d hand the day before. Billy isn’t into you. He had the opportunity to say something and he didn’t. And one thing you’ve learned about boys your age is if they want it, they’ll make it known.

“Are you ready yet?” Carol’s asking as she peers into your bedroom. You scan her outfit up and down, you think maybe she’s channeling Madonna as well but you can’t pin exactly what she’s dressed as.

You wipe the corner of your mouth, fixing the smeared lipstick.

“Yeah, just about,” you mumble, reapplying your mascara.

“Billy’s meeting us there,” she sings, grinning wide at you in the mirror.

You roll your eyes, “Carol, he’s off limits and even if he wasn’t, I don’t like Billy like that.”

“Sure,” she purrs, slapping the doorframe, “Vamoose, pretty girl. I wanna get wasted.”

Tommy’s a bad driver. He was also drinking before he left so he’s even worse, by the time you get to the party you feel like you’ve already got the spins. You hold onto Carol’s wrist to ground yourself and Billy’s rushing up behind the two of you.

“Boo!” he shouts, pressing a hand to your lower back.

Carol shrieks but you’d seen him coming. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling the two of you two his chest. He reeks of whiskey and Marlboro Reds. Seems like Billy had a bit of pregaming himself.

“Hi, Billy,” the two of you sing in unison.

Tommy barrels around the car, running up from behind to jump onto Billy’s back which causes all of you to tumble to the ground. Carol screams, scolding Tommy about ruining her hair but you’re distracted by the laugh erupting from Billy, his lips so close to your ear you can feel his breath fanning against it. It makes you tingle all over and you desperately want to grab him and pull him closer, want to press your lips to his in a hungry kiss. Then it’s gone, he’s up from the ground with Tommy pulling him towards the keg and Carol’s reaching her hand down to you.

You stumble along with her and when you’re reaching the keg, Billy’s pumping it and filling cups for you and Carol.

“You’ve got to beat Steve’s record, Billy! Come on,” Tommy urges his friend, hands clasped tight around his shoulders.

You stand over by Carol and Tina, watching the way the brunette fucks Billy with her eyes. A pang of jealousy surges through your stomach but you chug from the red Solo cup to drown it out. You sway along with the Motley Crüe song, unable to stop your eyes from scanning the crowd for familiar chestnut hair and brown eyes. Carol must notice because she grabs your face and turns it to look at Billy. She wants you to get over Steve just as badly as you do. You notice Billy’s costume, you think he’s going for terminator but it’s laid back. An homage rather than a costume. His abs look nice, you imagine what they must feel like. Carol’s a good friend.

They lift Billy up, he bites around the tap and makes eye contact you for a brief second before beer is flooding into your mouth. He easily beats Steve’s record. Seems like he could’ve gone longer but the second he beats it, they’re pulling him down. He spits the foam out, beer dripping down his chin to his chest and it’s… a sight. They funnel inside but you stick by Carol.

“God, he’s so yummy,” Tina gushes, turning to you and Carol.

Carol agrees excitedly, winks at you and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Tina.

“What? Did you call dibs already?”

“God, no,” you say, a little too defensively. “I just have eyes and Carol wants to live vicariously through me. It’s not happening.”

“Well, I’m definitely not holding back,” Tina quips.

You imagine the two of you as cats, tails high and backs arched, ready to pounce.

“Go for it,” you shrug, holding your beer close to your chest.

You retreat first, heading inside in search of a better time. A spiked punch is in your future. It’s only slightly dampened when you see Nancy downing cup after cup in the kitchen, Steve upset and asking her to cool it. He doesn’t even notice your presence and that’s totally fine. You’re a fly on the wall like you usually are around him. Steve reaches for her cup again and they struggle for power until the force of their hands pulls the cup back and spills the sticky red punch all over her white sweater. Everyone reacts in shock and you have to still your mouth from the smile threatening against your lips as you quickly avert your attention.

When they flutter away, you copy Nancy. Downing as many cups as you can before you start to feel numb. Seeing Steve was a shock to your system. All prior feelings rush to the forefront of your brain and you want to find him, pull him into a empty bedroom and kiss him from head to toe. It’s a shame when you see him and Nancy lock themselves away in a bathroom. You linger, clutching your drink to your chest as you watch drunk teenagers dance the night away. Nancy doesn’t deserve Steve. He shouldn’t have to change to be with her. You liked Steve the way he was.

Steve opens the door and slams it behind him, he pushes passed out, shoulders colliding and when he turns to look at you, you notice tears in his eyes. The brunette is quick to swivel back around, stomping outside and you wonder what in the hell just happened in there. Half of you is tempted to follow him outside, offer comfort in whatever way you can but then you feel large, strong hands wrap around your waist. You tilt your head back to see Billy standing behind you with a drunk smile plastered on his face, his eyes are tinted red like he’s been smoking more than cigarettes.

He leans down, lips close to your ear so he can whisper, “Why are you hiding from us?”

“Hiding? I’m not hiding,” you argue, lifting your cup to explain further, “Where is everyone?”

“Backyard,” he smirks, releasing his grip and stumbling towards the sliding glass door.

He turns his head briefly to make sure you’re following him.

Tina’s backyard is trashed. You can’t imagine what the cleanup is going to be like tomorrow. As soon as you step out the door, Billy grabs your hips again and urges you to the left. You look down and see what looks like five smashed beer bottles, right outside the door. You mumble a thank you before wiggling out of his grip. The last thing you need is for Tommy to see it. The blonde guides you over to the group and you collapse down next to your brother and Carol.

“Steve and Nancy just got in a fight,” you tell them before bringing your cup to your lips.

Carol raises her eyebrows and leans closer, giving you a look you know all too well. You quickly shake your head, slouching your shoulders and trying to sink away from her gaze. Tommy lets out a cackle, leaning his body back with it.

“We heard, he threw punch on her?”

“Well, no, he didn’t throw it on her, it just spilled,” you explain, watching in your peripheral how Tina leans her body against Billy’s and whispers in his ear. Immediately, your stomach turns but you ignore it. There’s no way you could be jealous, you don’t even know the guy yet and you’re going to make sure you don’t stew on how attractive he is. You know how mad Tommy will be and besides, your brother isn’t exactly loyal to you. You imagine if you did make a move on Billy and he rejected you, Tommy wouldn’t stop hanging out with him. Or god forbid, he doesn’t reject you but instead breaks your heart and Tommy would still pick Billy’s side. You know this about your brother.

“But they went into the bathroom and I guess argued, because Steve came storming out and he looked like he was crying,” you continue, picking at a loose thread on your skirt.

Tommy snorts, “I knew they wouldn’t last long.”

Carol nods along with him, “She’s too prissy for Steve. I bet the argument was something stupid too.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, allowing yourself to turn slightly and just in time to catch Tina shoving her tongue down Billy’s throat. You’re quick to turn back to your brother and Carol.

“You guys wanna leave soon?” Carol asks, you know she’s trying to be casual but only asking to save you the displeasure of watching Billy and Tina make out for the rest of the night.

“Yeah, I’m pretty over it,” you admit, stretching your arms up.

Tommy scoffs, “You guys are so boring. It’s still early.”

It is, you don’t even feel drunk yet but you are bored and too many unpleasant feelings are swirling around you. If you get any more alcohol in you, you’re libel to throw yourself at Steve, or worse, Billy.

“This party kind of blows, though,” Carol argues and wraps her arms around Tommy, whispering something in his ear. Whatever she said has him grinning and jumping to his feet. You’d rather not know.

;;;

You’re sitting in study hall, trying to stay awake when a note lands on your desk. You turn and see Steve failing at trying to look innocent, he fake coughs in his hand while stretching his opposite arm up and then back down. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quickly looks away, a hint of smile on his lips. You unfold the note and see Steve’s messy handwriting scrawled lopsided on the top of the page.

Wanna listen to my Abba record?

You stare at it a little dumbfounded, because it was an inside joke between the two of you. It was his lame way of trying to get you alone at one of his parties. It was only the second time you guys had ever messed around and as your relationship continued, it became something Steve would say just to make you blush or laugh. Worse, though, it turned into a code for sneaking away to hook up. His fight with Nancy must’ve been more serious than you thought. This was Steve’s olive branch, and it was sleazy but it was also romantic, unfortunately.

You write back in neat, straight handwriting, Right here in study hall?

You carefully slide the paper onto his desk and turn back to your textbook. From the corner of your eye, you see Steve grinning wide as he reads what you’ve wrote before furiously writing and handing it back.

Is that a yes?

It’s a maybe. I don’t think Mr. Delfin would appreciate it.

Fair enough. The albums at my house anyway. After school then?

You chew on your bottom lip. It would be very easy to fall back into this but you have plans with your brother, Carol and Billy. However, the prospect of being alone with Steve seems way more appealing. And you can’t help yourself, you think about Steve more than you think about anything else. You absolutely miss touching him and you’ve been rather frustrated since he started going out with Nancy.

Meet me in the library after school.

;;;

You made some dumb excuse to Carol about having to work on a class project in the library. She bought it but tried to insist on you ditching it entirely to get to know Billy better. Which you knew Carol was aware you wouldn’t go for.

When Steve walks up to you, you’re standing at the window. He leans against the wall and looks at you quizzically.

“Whatcha doing?”

You watch as Tommy and Carol pile into his car and drive off, the blue Camaro following after them and you say to Steve, “Just making sure it’s… safe. Okay, let’s go.”

Steve let’s out a scoff, “Don’t want them to see you with me?”

You crane your head sideways as you look up at him, “I’m ditching them for you. They’d be mad.”

Steve nods his head, pursing his lips like he can taste your words. You keep your hands to yourself on the walk to his BMW, you’d learned to do as much when you guys were fooling around. Steve talks a lot on the drive to Loch Nora. None of it really makes much sense, or is important but you like listening to his voice. It’s adorable, he stutters every so often and rambles on, losing his thought and then rushing into a completely new thought. The reason you like it so much is you’ve seen Steve hit on girls throughout the years and weirdly enough, this is how he does it so you feel special when it’s directed at you.

His house is empty, it usually is but what always shocked you was how clean it was. A teenage boy lived there alone for eight months of the year, you expected it to be messy but then again, you’re sure they have a cleaning lady coming often. Steve leads you up the stairs and to his bedroom. It smells clean, like laundry detergent and his cologne. Your stomach is doing flips at the familiarity of it all, you’ve been in this exact position many times before and you’re anticipating his next moves. As you sit on his bed, Steve wraps his hand around your hip and lays you on your back. You shyly smile up at him, the weight of his body makes you tingle all over and his big, brown eyes look into yours. There hasn’t been a night in months that you haven’t pictured this exact moment happening, ushering you to sleep and hopefully dream of Steve.

He pushes tucks your hair behind your ear as he cracks a smile, teeth bright and white while his cheeks flush just a smidge. You want to tell him how much you’ve missed him but him and Nancy have only been broken up a couple of days, you know what this is. That’s your downfall, though, you’ll bend over backwards to have Steve. When his lips caress yours, a small moan rises up your throat involuntarily. It’s a soft, sweet kiss and he gently holds your cheek as he does it. Your fingers snake into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer so you can deepen the kiss. Steve takes things slow, he always did and you’ve always been bursting at the seams, eager for more. You drag your tongue against his lower lip, begging for entrance and he allows you easily. Your body lights up, feels like you’re on fire when he grinds just barely on top of you. His thigh between your legs presses against your center and it makes your head feel heavy, falling apart beneath him. Steve’s like a drug and you’ve been sober for far too long. Your desperation makes you feel antsy, you want things to progress much faster than they are but Steve is stubborn, he sets the pace. He’s different than any other man you’ve been with, he’ll kiss you until your jaw hurts and you’re trembling. That seems to be his intent now because when you try to pull away from it, he grabs your jaw and kisses you harder. You whimper against his lips, wriggling your hips to demonstrate how badly you need him.

Steve pulls back and smiles down at you, stroking his thumb along the apple of your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”

You flush, grinning from ear to ear as you avert your eyes, unable to hold eye contact. With a giggle you tell him, “So are you.”

He lets out a small, breathless laugh, “Thank you.”

Steve places kisses along your jaw and down your neck, he licks against your skin but he’s always been careful not to leave any marks. Back when you two were fooling around regularly, you weren’t so careful with him and you’d litter his neck and chest with love bites. Steve could always explain them away much easier than you could.

He continues kissing against your collarbone as he starts unbuttoning your shirt. You inhale sharply, goosebumps rising all over your skin when his fingers brush against your now exposed stomach. Steve’s lips descend once he gets your blouse completely undone, brushing them against the curve of your breast. This is the area he doesn’t hold back, sucking and biting gently at the tender skin until it’s raw and sore. You know you’ll have a bruise there by the end of the night but you don’t mind. It’ll be proof this isn’t a dream. In sync, you prop up on your elbows as Steve leans back and reaches around to unclasp your bra. You dispose of the blouse and bra before reaching for the hem of Steve’s polo and pull it over his head. You smooth your hands over his head before he leans down and licks at your perked nipple, his Bambi eyes looking up at you curiously. You whine, arching into the touch as your eyes flutter shut. For a moment, you picture blonde curls and blue eyes but quickly push the thought away as shame begins spreading through your stomach. You try not to think about it too much, not willing to admit even to yourself that you want Billy in that way.

“Steve,” you pant out, for good measure.

He sucks your nipple between his lips as he hand moves to squeeze and knead at your other breast. Another moan falls out of your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and knit your fingers into his hair. He grazes his fingertips across your neglected nipple and laps against the other. It’s intoxicating, you focus on his soft his hair feels between your fingers. Your thighs tingle as heat surges through your stomach and straight to your core. It’s quiet in the house, in the room, the only sound is Steve’s mouth on your and your paired labored breathing.

When he moves back up to crash his lips into yours and press his body close, you feel his cock hard in his jeans against your navel. He grunts softly against your lips moving both his hands to grip your jaw as he licks into your mouth eagerly. This is unlike Steve, he usually doesn’t express desperation until he’s already inside of you. It gets your hopes up, like maybe he’s been missing you just as badly as you’ve been missing him. And maybe that’s wishful thinking but in this moment, you’ll take it. You grab onto his waist and writhe up against him, letting him know you’re just as needy.

Steve pulls back from the sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as his hands lower and he’s making quick work getting your jeans and panties down to your ankles. They hang awkwardly there, your tennis shoes are still on but you're really liking the frenzy of it all. Steve props himself on his knees and does the same with his jeans and briefs, pushing them down to his knees as his long cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. God, you’ve missed the sight of it, your mouth waters as you breathe heavy. Memories of the way it felt in your mouth flood your mind, causing your hips to jerk up in arousal and Steve smiles down at you, clearing taking the movement as a compliment. He circles his hand around himself, pumping a few times before dragging his head through your folds.

“Steve…” you moan out slowly, another surge of wetness flowing out of you.

“Yeah?” he breathes out, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes look glassy. It’s such a pretty view, you wiggle against him.

“Need you,” you admit, shyly.

He licks against his bottom lip before rubbing his tip against your fluttering hole, “You been with anyone else since me?”

You shake your head, knowing the reason behind his question, “I’m clean.”

Steve nods, his hair bouncing with the movement before he sinks his cock inside of you. You gasp out, grabbing onto his bedspread while you melt at the sensation. It’s been way too long. You’re tight, haven’t had anything stretch you out since the last time you had Steve like this. He grunts softly, eyes squeezing shut as he slowly sheathes himself completely inside you.

“Oh,” you moan out, feeling him fill you out in the most delicious way. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to watch the way Steve’s face contorts in pleasure as he stills his movements. He grazes his fingers up your sides as he lowers himself, his chest flush against yours while his lips find yours again. The kiss is languid, matching the stroke of him between your legs. It’s sensual which is typical from Steve but a stark contrast to the short foreplay. It takes your breath away, regardless. He pulls back an inch, panting against your lips as he rolls his hips deeper, running his hand down to hold onto your hip.

You try to spread your legs further, but the clothing around your ankles makes it difficult. Your hands scratch down his back and you arch your back, moving your hips to chase your high. Steve grunts out and then bites his bottom lip hard, moving his hips faster and more wildly than before. It’s exactly what you need as the pressure building inside you is pulled taut, you’re so close you can almost see it.

“Fuck me, Steve,” you whine out and he makes a pretty, needy sound that has you reeling. It was the type of sound that was the reason you’d always loved going down on Steve.

He rocks his hips into you harder and faster, pulling out little breathy moans from you as you cling onto his back.

“You like that?” he pants out, his hair bouncing with every thrust and you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowing as your orgasm looms closer and closer.

You press your palm against his cheek and he kisses you deeply, smoothing his hands up and down your sides as he moves against you. The kiss pushes you over the edge, a sharp cry flooding out of you as you climax around him, your walls fluttering around his dick and Steve starts making the familiar sounds, desperate and whiny little noises. He pulls out of you quickly, spilling his load over your stomach with a strangled groan. You hum happily, eyes dancing across his gorgeous face. He stuffs himself back in his pants and walks over to his hamper, grabbing a shirt and walking back over to wipe his mess from your navel. He pants as he does it and when he moves away again to dispose of the shirt, you pull your clothes back on.

“You want me to just drop you at home or back at school?” he asks, his eyes everyone but on you.

“Home is fine,” you say, trying to hide the way your heart is splitting yet again from Steve Harrington.

The car ride there is awkward and when you’re a block away, you notice Tommy and Billy’s cars parked on the street.

“Just drop me here,” you say softly and Steve pulls over. As you get out, he leans over and grabs your wrist. You kneel down and lean back in the car. He kisses you gently and then smiles awkwardly at you.

“I’ll see you later,” you say before shutting the door and slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

You walk up to the front door, noticing as Steve makes a u-turn and heads back in the direction of Loch Nora. Tears are threatening to break free but you will them back down, stepping inside the house and waving at Tommy, Billy and Carol as they’re lounged on the couch, watching music videos. You close yourself in the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hair down and fixing your makeup. Once you feel you’ve calmed down enough, you make your way back out to the living room and very nicely ask Billy if you could bum a smoke.

“I’ll join ya,” he says, standing from the couch.

Tommy moves to follow but Carol grabs his wrist and pulls him back down, leaning close to whisper something and he looks like he’s about to protest until she starts kissing his neck. You make a face and lead Billy out the back door. You sit down on the plastic furniture and graciously accept the cigarette he hands over. Billy pulls out his zippo and lights it for you. Seeing him, unfortunately, eases the way your heart aches. Deep down, you know Billy would do the same thing Steve just did to you but you try not to focus on that. You feel ridiculous that you thought things might be different this time. It’s obvious that you’ve always been an easy lay to Steve and it hurts that you’re still that.

“How was the library?” he asks as he lights his own cigarette.

You shrug, “Really exciting at first, until it sucked.”

“So what’s his name?” Billy asks, smirking up at you as he exhales the thick smoke.

You blush, dropping your head before replying, “That obvious, is it?”

Billy lets out a big, belly laugh. It’s a nice sound, you want to make him laugh over and over.

“I can always tell when a woman’s had an orgasm,” he quips, sliding his tongue out almost obscenely along his lower lip. It’s insane how quickly he’s making you feel better, no matter how blunt he is.

“Yeah, well, his name isn’t important because the whole thing,” you gesture your hands in big circles, “wasn’t important to him.”

Billy inhales sharply, gritting his teeth, “Well… speaking from experience… ‘cause I am one so.. yeah, all guys want the same thing.”

You curl your lips down in a frown as you chew over his words, deciding you’re not much better than Steve because you went along with it for the same reasons. You wanted to fuck him and shit, you got that.

“Sometimes,” you giggle softly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips, “Girls are after the same thing.”

The blonde laughs again and you wanna breathe it in, wanna taste his laughs and his lips and his whole body. He’s different than Steve, physically rougher around the edges which makes him that much more interesting. Exotic maybe. His hair doesn’t look nearly as soft as Steve’s, not nearly as cared for. You’d seen the Farrah Fawcett spray in Steve’s bathroom and you can guarantee Billy doesn’t use the same thing.

“I’ve seen my fair share of that,” he agrees, “but I think a big difference is once guys have it once, they don’t want it again but girls do.”

“Or they want it again when it’s easy,” you point out, reaching over to snatch the beer from his hand and taking a big gulp from it.

“Beware of those assholes,” he says, raising his eyebrows and looking at you seriously.

You groan softly, “I was trying to stay away from him.”

“Who is it?” Billy asks, curiously. “I won’t tell.”

“But you so will,” you gush, bringing your hand to your face, “It’s premium gossip.”

“You think I’m that type?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow up.

You turn to him, “This is juicy. It’s be hard not to tell people.”

“What? Harrington?”

Willing your face to remain still, “No.”

Billy scoffs, “King Steve. No way. That is something.”

“It’s not Steve,” you seethe, though you know your face is giving it away.

He chuckles softly and grabs the beer back, “Your secret is safe with me but uh… you could do better.”

Billy gets up from the chair, tossing his cigarette before walking back inside.

#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy x steve x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x hagan!reader #simmer down

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

Trans Femme-Stevie where she transitions after graduating, so when Eddie holds the broken bottle in her face in the boathouse, he doesn’t recognise her right away…

oh my god!!! thanks for the prompt- this is a great idea!!!!! behold:

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Eddie isn't thinking when someone enters the boathouse he's hiding in. He isn't listening to what they're saying to each other, can't even hear over the pounding of his own heart and his shallow breaths that sound about twenty times louder than they actually are. And when something digs into his side, prodding at him under the tarp he's hid himself under, he definitely doesn't think as he leaps out of his hiding spot, pinning his attacker to the wall with a broken bottle to their throat.

Her throat. His attacker is a girl, apparently, with soft shoulder-length brown waves and pink lip gloss and big, scared-looking doe eyes. Great, he's on the run from people who will definitely think he murdered one sweet, defenceless girl (she was so sweet, and she didn't deserve to go like that), and the first thing he does is threaten another one.

He's still not thinking, really, when he vaguely registers someone else talking, a familiar voice- Henderson? The kid is saying something, something about trusting them, about how they're not here to hurt him- "I swear on my mother, Eddie."

The girl under his hands nods as best as she can with the bottle still pressed to her throat. "Yeah, swear on- swear on Dustin's mom," she says, voice strained and slightly familiar in a way Eddie doesn't have the brainspace to figure out right now.

Eddie looks to Dustin (and is that Band Buckley behind him? And his neighbour? He didn't even know they knew each other), his eyes wide and sincere. And he backs up from the girl. She immediately doubles over, clutching at her neck with a gasp of relief that has Eddie feeling even worse than he already did.

He sends an apologetic look to the girl as he curls back up into himself, mutters a sorry that has the girl waving him off. She shoots him a reassuring smile and a shrug like hey, been there. It would probably work better if she wasn't still rubbing her neck, and if Buckley wasn't patting her shoulder and sending Eddie a death glare over it.

"You're okay, Eddie, it's just me, it's Dustin- and you remember Max, right? Lucas's girlfriend? And that's Robin and Stevie, remember I told you about them? They're my babysitters. Well, Stevie is, Robin's just like, her... I don't know, helper?"

Buckley- Robin rolls her eyes at Dustin, which Eddie can sympathise with. Like, what the fuck, Henderson, he has literally never cared less about who is or isn't his babysitter. Eddie has no idea who Stevie even is, which is weird now that he thinks about it. She's got to be around Eddie's age, and there's only one high school in Hawkins, so he must have seen her at some point. And she is kind of familiar, but Eddie feels like he'd definitely remember seeing this girl around. She's really pretty, soft golden skin dotted with moles, and her shoulders had been firm with muscle when he'd felt them, like she did softball or something.

Actually. Eddie squinted at her a moment. Golden skin. Moles. Droopy, hazel eyes. Muscles. Stevie.

"Wait, Harrington???"

Stevie freezes up again, the same fear returning to her eyes that she'd had when he held a bottle to her throat. Robin glares at him even harder, Max joining in, and even Henderson seems a little defensive.

"Stevie, yeah," she says, voice cool. "Problem?"

Holy shit. "No! I mean- me too! But, uh, opposite."

Stevie's eyes light up, and everyone's jaws drop. "What, really? But- you've always been-"

Eddie nods. "Yeah, since middle school. Remember? I'd just moved to town and I had that buzzcut? My uncle was letting me, like, be a dude and I kind of overcompensated. Worst haircut of my life."

"Holy shit," Stevie whispers, voice full of awe. Eddie can relate.

They both sit for a moment, revelling in the mutual wonder of finally meeting someone even a little bit like them.

And then Dustin ruins it.

"So what happened with Chrissy, Eddie?"

Oh, yeah. He'd almost forgotten this was the worst day of his life.

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #t4t steddie #transmasc eddie munson #stranger things #my fics

[morningberriesao3]

Bully!Scoops!Steve Harrington X Dom!Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve and Eddie don't get along. Never have, never will. One night, after their shifts end at the mall, Eddie finally releases some of that pent up aggression that he's been harbouring for years.

Word Count: 13.6 K

Chapters: 1 of 1

Content Warnings: Explicit m/m sexual content including… mildly dubious consent, aggression, fight sex, hate sex, spit kink, internalized homophobia and homophobia language, aggression, face-fucking, under-negotiated kink, choking, gagging, car sex (semi-public), dirty talk, degradation, allusions to anal sex, anal play, cum eating, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, voyeurism, light s&m, light dacryphilia

Tags: enemies to lovers (but they’re actually enemies), Steve Harrington’s Scoops Ahoy uniform, Robin Buckley/Eddie Munson friendship, pre-season three, Eddie hates Steve

All characters are—and always will be—18 or older, whether explicitly stated or not

Hate the Way It Feels So Good

Eddie and Steve don’t get along.  

It started as far back as middle school, when cliques started forming and kids started dividing themselves into two very distinct categories: cool, and not cool. They were basically on opposite sides of the spectrum. Natural born enemies.

Steve did things like toss balls into hoops and get sweaty in the gym with a bunch of other dudes, and then corner Eddie at lunch hour and call him the queer. As if he was the one chest to chest with Billy fucking Hargrove an hour earlier, sliding all over him in a tangle of pent-up testosterone.

But no, Eddie was the queer, because he spent his time playing Dungeons and Dragons with his fellow nerds.

At first, it was just another word that got tossed at him. Freak, loser, dork. Queer. At first, Eddie didn’t let it get to him.

Until he was fifteen years old, and he suddenly noticed Trevor Brown’s shoulder muscles underneath his t-shirt. The way they stretched the fabric and made it cling to them like plastic wrap. How the hem of that same shirt rode up above the band of his jeans when he lifted his arms above his head to expose a strip of skin. And how Eddie wanted to run his fingers on it.

The word queer from that day on felt like a bullet flying from a loaded gun.

For three years, Eddie tried to suppress those feelings. He dated Liv from his D&D club for half of that time—thought maybe he could learn to love a girl. To look at her skin the same way he’d looked at Trevor’s all those years ago.

Four months into dating, Eddie and Liv had sex. The whole time, it felt like there was a stone the size of a cherry pit stuck in Eddie’s throat. One that he couldn’t for the life of him swallow down. He didn’t want to look at her. Felt his fingers shaking with something that wasn’t lust as he dug them into her hips. Had to consciously remind himself to keep his eyes on her and not the ceiling, the walls, the pillows. Not to keep them squeezed shut.

He dated her for ten more months after that. They had sex a dozen more times. It never got easier.

Eddie’s friends would talk about their hookups, how good they felt. How they hoped they could do it again. And Eddie just felt nauseous at the thought. He’d make up excuses that he wouldn’t be home, that Wayne would be home, that he was sick, that he had homework, guitar lessons, a family obligation, a job interview. Anything to keep Liv out of his bedroom for as long as possible.

In April of 1984—Eddie’s first time in grade twelve—he decided to break things off. He had to focus on his grades next year, he said, and she was finished with high school, so he really didn’t have the time. All excuses, but she seemed to accept them without pause.

It was about a month after that, that Eddie went to Indianapolis and kissed another man for the first time. Three seconds into it before he realized exactly what his friends had been talking about—his body reacting in a way it never had before. Carnal desire. An urge to go further, to not stop. No cherry pit lodged in his tonsils.

The next months came with a lot of internal loathing. And then experimentation. And then… not quite acceptance. But something close.

It helped that he met band geek Robin Buckley near the end of the school year when they both happened to wander into the practice room one lunch hour. They bonded pretty quickly over music, even though their tastes didn’t intersect that often. But they were both unpopular and quirky and had very little filters, so it was easy enough to form a friendship.

Eddie was able to tell her one summer night as they got high by Lover’s Lake, that he thought he was gay. It only came out when she started blubbering about her crush on Tammy Thompson and then started blubbering harder to try to cover it up.

Needless to say, Eddie and Robin became very close, very fast. She was the only person who knew all of Eddie. And he was the only person who knew all of her.

Eddie was thrilled on Robin’s first day at Scoops Ahoy a year later. The ice cream shop sat directly parallel to Camelot Music where he worked a few hours most days after school, and even longer shifts on the weekends. He knew he’d be able to sit at his register and steal glances of his friend struggling to get through training, and then later, on the slower days, they’d be able to sneak into the hall and cause trouble.

His giddiness was squashed when he saw who the second hire was.

Steve Harrington, standing with his too-big hands on his swimmer’s hips, his eyebrows pinched together above the bridge of his nose, staring down at the buckets of Vanilla-Bean-Caramel and Pineapple-Raspberry ice cream as their boss showed them how to form a proper scoop. Robin stood next to him, looking far less perplexed—and annoyingly calm about having to work next to Eddie’s arch nemesis. Not that she really knew the extent of his hate, beyond the few times he muttered prick under his breath when Steve’s name was mentioned.

“He’s not that bad,” Robin had said when Eddie cornered her after her first shift.

“What do you mean he’s not that bad? He’s a total fuckwad.”

Robin simply shrugged one of her shoulders and said, “I never said he wasn’t.”

Eddie had let it drop that night. But it got harder and harder as time went on.

It was the last day of Steve Harrington’s high school career, 1985, when Eddie took his first swing at that perfect Roman nose of his.

Eddie had been minding his own fucking business in the cafeteria. He can’t remember exactly what had riled him up, but maybe he was being a little flamboyant in a public place. Sometimes he just can’t help himself. But he wasn’t hurting anybody as he scurried around his table and tried to make his friends laugh.

Jason Carver—prick supreme—had something to say about it (as always), flanked by none other than Steve Harrington, who seemed distracted as he zoned off into the distance. “Keep your voice down, freak.”

Sometimes, Eddie had enough control to keep his retorts to himself. But not this day. “You seem to seek me out these days, Carver. I would argue that you like my voice.”

Jason’s nose wrinkled. “You wish, queer.”

Steve seemed to zone back into reality, his eyes narrowing in on Jason and then on Eddie, who twisted his features up into a mockery of a flirtatious smile and said, all too sweetly, “Oh, I do wish. Why don’t you come on over tonight, Jason, and I’ll show you just how much.”

Steve choked on his own saliva then, as if he couldn’t hold back the gag from the thought of someone being gay. Or maybe more specifically, Eddie being gay. Either way, it pissed Eddie off to no end.

“You have an issue, Harrington?”

Steve’s eyes widened, but then he schooled his face back into a mask of nonchalance. “Nope.”

“Really? ‘Cause it seems like you have an issue.” Eddie stepped into Steve’s personal space. Their shoulders brushed against each other. “Maybe you want to come over instead. This queer can show you a great time.”

The look of pure horror on Steve’s face might have been hilarious if Eddie hadn’t been feeling so fired up. “Absolutely not, man. No way.”

“Bit of a bigot, are we, Stevie?” Eddie puffed himself up as big as he could get. His chest bumped into Steve, who took half a step back in shock.

“I didn’t say that,” Steve had said, almost defensively. For a second, Eddie almost thought he would turn around and leave him alone. Until Steve’s eyes found Jason’s, and he tacked on for good measure, “I’m just not like you.”

Eddie saw red. “Like me?”

“Yeah. You know. A fairy—”

Eddie’s fist nearly whistled through the air as he tried to connect it with Steve’s face. Only, Steve’s reflexes were pretty great after all his years training in whichever sports Eddie knew nothing about, so he managed to sidestep the swing. Jason grabbed Eddie’s wrist and laid his own punch against his cheekbone. Eddie landed flat on his ass in front of a growing crowd of school kids who were thrilled about a brawl breaking out.

Five minutes later, Eddie had found himself in the principal’s office, getting reprimanded about how next year would be his last chance to graduate, and how he was ruining his future by getting into fights, and maybe he just needed to go to church over the summer to help find his path in life.

Jason was asked if he was alright and was sent home with a pat on his back.

It has been two weeks since that incident. The cut on Eddie’s cheek from Jason’s knuckles has nearly healed.

He’s currently running his finger over what’s left of the scab, staring through slitted eyes at Harrington desperately trying to flirt with girls, even as he’s dressed in his stupid sailor’s outfit.

Eddie snickers to himself, watching the girls side-eye each other. They giggle condescendingly as they walk away from the ice cream counter. Another fallout.

He notices Robin take out a dry-erase marker to add another tally under the “You Suck” category of the T-chart she made for Steve. At least she’s humbling him, even if she doesn’t agree that he’s the worst person to ever walk the planet.

It’s a Saturday, nearing four o’clock. It’s time for Eddie’s break, and he always stops by Scoops to see if Robin can join him. This has led to way more interactions with Steve than he would ever like to admit, but they’re usually short-lived. Eddie glares at Steve, and Steve stares back at him like he might catch the Freak Disease if he gets too close. It’s a routine.

He hands the keys to his coworker and slowly makes his way across the tiles of the wide mall hallway. Steve sees his approach, and Eddie can see the panic set in. Steve’s puppy eyes go large, and he turns quickly on his heels. He tears the dumb sailor’s hat from his perfectly coiffed hair, saying something unintelligible to Robin.

Her eyes lock on Eddie just as he approaches the register. “Ahoy, Eddie. Are you ready to set sail on this ocean of fla—”

“Can it, Robin,” Steve cuts in from his now lazy stance at the back of the shop. “You don’t need to do the whole spiel to Munson every time he visits you at work.”

“But it’s funny,” she argues. She turns to Eddie. “Don’t you think it’s funny?”

“It’s hilarious,” Eddie says. Any chance to disagree with Harrington. “I would be so disappointed if you were to stop. Please, continue?”

“Are you ready to set sail on this ocean of flavour?” Robin wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at Eddie. “I’ll be your captain. I’m Steve Har—”

“I knew it!” Steve whines. “I knew this was a way for you to make fun of me!”

Robin unleashes a vault of snort-laughter that sounds like she’s been holding it in all day. Eddie has to physically contain himself from joining along, especially when he sees how disgruntled Steve looks from the low blow.

“It’s not like I want to say that shit,” Steve continues. “They told me to. I’m just doing my job—I just—It’s just—”

Eddie slaps his hand over his mouth, but he can’t stop himself from giggling alongside Robin. It’s especially ironic that Steve is so pressed about getting made fun of when just two weeks ago, he was joining alongside Jason to do that very thing to Eddie. Call it karma.

“Whatever.” Steve crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “Assholes. Leave me alone. Customers are coming.”

Robin takes her time slipping her hat from her head and placing it on a stool behind her. The group of young women appear in front of Steve, who also abandons his hat. Showing off his hair must be the only chance he has at getting laid anymore.

“Ahoy ladies, I’m St—” Steve’s eyes dart sideways to a snickering Robin, and then at Eddie who can feel one of his brows raised like a dare. Steve clears his throat. “I’m Steve. What can I get for you?”

Eddie scoffs at the same time Robin snorts and says, “See you in an hour, Dingus.”

Steve ignores her.

They leave the ice cream shop and make their way to the Burger King in the opposite corner of the food court. Finally, Eddie feels far away enough to ask, “Dingus?”

“Yeah.” Robin scans the menu behind the counter like she’s not just going to order the chicken sandwich. “He’s totally a dingus. I thought you’d agree on that one.”

“There are a lot of colourful words I’d use to describe Steve Harrington,” Eddie mumbles. “But I guess a dingus is a start.”

“There’s the spirit.” Robin slaps Eddie on the back, totally unaware that he is once again stewing over the jock that makes his life a living hell. “Let me buy you something. Whopper or Nuggets?”

“Nuggets. And fries, because all this talk about Steve is really putting me through it.”

“He’s really not that—”

“Not that bad. I know, you’ve said so a thousand times. But do you see my damn cheek?” Eddie points to the nearly healed wound like Robin hasn’t watched it through the red-to-purple-to-yellow healing phases.

She purses her lips and seems to choose her next words carefully. “Right. Okay. But from what I understand, Steve didn’t punch you. Jason did.”

Eddie stares at her incredulously. “Seriously? You’re gonna get hung up on the details? He called me a—” he lowers his voice to a whisper “—a fairy.”

“I know. And that is seriously not cool. But Jason called you a queer,” Robin retorts, just as quietly. “Fairy is better than the other F word he could have said.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending him.” Eddie points to the cashier who is now waiting to take their order. “I also want a Coke.”

Robin rolls her eyes but buys Eddie his meal, which he thinks is the bare minimum that he deserves after all this emotional distress.

The hour seems to fly by, and Eddie thanks whatever power there might be in the universe that Steve doesn’t get mentioned again. Until the walk back to their respective jobs.

“Oh—I forgot to mention. Steve is taking over the closing shift tonight, so I won’t be catching a ride with you.”

Eddie hovers between Camelot Music and Scoops. “Ugh. It’s so desolate here for closing. You better hope I don’t get murdered walking alone in the parking lot after dark.”

“You’ll be fine.” Robin turns away, heading towards Steve who looks like he’s struggling with a gaggle of children ordering milkshakes and sundaes. Eddie swears he hears her breathe under her breath, “Steve will be here.”

Eddie tries not to let that statement paint his face in a scowl for the rest of his shift, but as he inches closer to the clock chiming 9pm, he feels himself failing. It is way too obvious that, yes, Steve will be there as he closes shop. The rest of the food court close their doors at 8, but for some reason the owner of Scoops thinks that an ice cream shop has to stay open late. Like there are children that will be needing their sugar fix before bedtime.

As if.

There are a few other stores besides Camelot that also close at 9, but they’re located near Entrance C. Meaning, for the last hour of his shift, Eddie is forced to stare at Steve pacing behind the fluorescent lights of his ice cream coolers while he sits and simmers behind his own register.

Every now and then, Eddie swears he can see Steve look over in his direction. But each time he turns his head to catch him and hopefully be able to scream out what the fuck do you want?, Steve’s gaze is back on his Nikes.

It’s a major relief when it’s finally 9, and Eddie can swing the gates closed to the front of Camelot. He decides to take longer than usual to tidy up shop, carefully folding the t-shirt display and making sure to pull stock forward on the shelves so they look full for the morning staff. He cashes out, drops the envelope into the safe in the ground, and wipes off the counter. The lights in the front of Scoops have been off for roughly seven minutes (not that Eddie has been staring at the clock since they went dark), so he figures it’s safe to leave from the back entrance.

The heavy door latches behind him as he steps into the giant parking lot. He’d only been half joking with Robin at the mention of getting murdered. It would be a prime spot for some crimes to be committed after dark like this—only a few vehicles still scattered the pavement, far and few between. His van is the farthest of them all.

Regardless, he sucks in a breath and starts to make his way across the eerily quiet lot. It only takes him a few seconds to get a strange tingling sensation on the back on his neck, like he’s being watched. He opens his ears, realises that he can hear a second set of footsteps beyond his own. And they sound close.

Eddie whirs around with his fingers clenched into fists, ready to strike at—

“Steve?” Eddie huffs a sigh of relief, but then realises he still might be very much in danger of getting his ass kicked. He keeps his hands balled up. “What the fuck, man? Why are you following me?”

Steve isn’t exactly geared up to fight. He’s walking on the other side of the lane, his hands in his pockets. Maybe not relaxed, but a lot more relaxed than Eddie feels.

“I’m not following you. I’m walking to my car.” Steve lifts one of his hands from his pockets to point at the burgundy BMW parked a few dozen feet away from Eddie’s van. “I closed. Didn’t Robin tell you?”

“She did, but you closed up ten minutes before I left. You should be gone.”

Steve shrugs. “I was in the back.”

“Convenient,” Eddie says under his breath, mostly to himself. “Look, man, I’m really not in the mood to get jumped tonight. My face is barely back to normal from the last time.”

“Uhuh. How’s that healing?” Steve’s eyes trail over Eddie’s body, like he’s scanning for damage. Eddie feels himself tense under the scrutiny, wondering why Steve might be sizing him up. What kind of carnage he has in mind. Why it sounds like he’s actually curious about Eddie’s face and not being sarcastic. Impossible. “About what I said—”

“What,” Eddie spits, “that I’m a fairy?”

“Yeah—”

“You know, I find it funny.” Eddie keeps his voice low and menacing, a nod to his DM charade he puts on for Hellfire Club. “You go around calling me a fairy like you aren’t the one who got his ass beat by the quiet, gentle photographer not that long ago.”

Steve’s face twists up in confusion. “Byers?”

“Mhmm. I thought you were supposed to be king. Oh—but wait—that title was recently taken from you, wasn’t it? By… who was it again? Oh, yeah, Billy Hargrove.” Eddie’s teeth ache around the name. If there’s anyone who gives Steve a run for his money being Captain Asshole, it’s Billy. “He’s the one I saw you rolling around with, all sweaty and topless in the gym, isn’t it?”

Steve’s face seems to stain red. “He’s on the basketball team.”

“I don’t know. It all seems a little”—Eddie waggles his fingers—“homoerotic to me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It seems as if Steve has to physically swallow down his rage. Eddie knows it’s not safe to poke the bear, but he just can’t help how he gets around the guy.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Let me dumb it down a bit for you, Stevie. Put it in terms you understand.” He gets so close to Steve’s face that they almost bump noses. “Queer. It seems queer.”

Steve’s jaw visibly twitches, and Eddie can see that his fingernails are biting into the palm of his hands, much like his own. “I’m not like that.”

“You keep saying that,” Eddie condescends, “but each time it’s feeling more and more like an excuse.”

“Shut up.” Steve’s hands twitch at his sides as if they’re begging to be unleashed in a fit of rage. It should be enough to make Eddie back down.

But his own fists are trembling. And his heart is hammering. And he’s filled with a heat that he needs to let escape.

He takes a step into Steve, who stumbles back to create more space between them. “Is that what this is, Harrington? Some sort of coping mechanism?”

“Shut up.” Steve’s eyes seem tumultuous beneath their hazel irises. His skin is staining red. His jaw looks locked.

Just a few more words.

“Are you…” Eddie makes his voice sound mockingly disappointed. Disgusted. “Are you a fag?”

Steve’s composure snaps.

A fist full of Eddie’s t-shirt is suddenly clenched inside one of Steve’s unforgiving fists, tightening around the base of his neck, pulling him flush into the solid mass of Steve’s chest.

The breath is knocked out of him. His hands instinctually grasp around Steve’s grip as he’s virtually hoisted onto his tiptoes. Even though they’re of similar height, it seems that Steve is staring down the bridge of his nose at Eddie. He can feel hot breath puffing against his lips that smells as if Steve just had a smoke.

Eddie braces himself for impact—his own doing, really. But at least he got a word in edge wise. He knew he’d never be able to beat Steve in a fight.

But Steve just… keeps him there. Menacingly close. Bodies shoved against one another. His eyes bore into Eddie’s threateningly. Eddie feels a rush of endorphins, excited to see what Steve does next.

For what seems like ages, Steve doesn’t make a move. Eddie sees the bob of his throat when he swallows, and the angry glimmer in his eye extinguish. He drops Eddie’s shirt and takes a step back.

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds as he regains his footing. He’s not sure why Steve didn’t take his chance. There’s nobody else in sight. They’re even out of view from the closest road.

And for some reason… he’s disappointed. He knows he doesn’t really want a shiner. But the way Steve was staring at him—is still staring at him—he’s curious what might have come of… whatever just happened.

His body is still twitching with pent up energy, and anger towards Steve for the last years of his life that have been a living hell thanks to him, and Eddie already feels accomplished standing up for himself. So he takes it one step further.

Eddie looks straight into Steve’s eyes, and says, “Pussy.”

And he spits straight onto Steve’s white and red Nikes.

He turns before he knows what Steve’s reaction might be. He feels invigorated, and wildly in danger. And all he needs to do is get to his van, get out of the parking lot and he would feel like he won.

But Eddie barely makes it outside of his van before Steve is bulldozing into him, rougher than before. The metal wall of his van makes a hallow thump as Steve drives him face-first into it, one arm slung around Eddie’s neck in a chokehold, the other locking around his waist and elbows to immobilize him.

“You think you’re gonna spit on me and just walk away, Munson?”

Eddie squirms in Steve’s grip, shivering against the hot feeling of Steve’s breath so close to his ear. The wall of his van is cold as it’s pressed up against his cheek. And for some reason Eddie can’t explain, all he can think about is the press of Steve’s crotch against his ass, driving him forward, his fly dragging across his hip—

No. No.

That’s not what this is.

That’s not even what he wants. Steve is the bane of his existence, not some hot bar hookup in the alleyway.

“Fuck you, man. Get off me!” Eddie struggles against Steve’s grip. It shouldn’t surprise him how strong he is, considering the guy plays sports 24/7, but he’s a little taken aback when he can’t even get Steve to let up by one measly inch.

Steve only presses harder into him. Eddie’s cheek smooshes against the cold side of his van, probably smearing dirt all over his cheek. It’s been ages since he’s washed it. “You’re the one who fucking spat on me, Munson.”

“And I’d do it again,” Eddie growls, twisting his face up into what he hopes is an intimidating smile.

“Bullshit.” Steve ruts against Eddie so hard that his chin hits his van and snaps his jaw shut. But then, just as quickly, he’s free from Steve’s crazy wrestler’s headlock. He twists around as fast as he can manage, only to find that Steve didn’t step too far away. He’s just standing there, cockily, like he doesn’t believe Eddie could harm a single perfect hair on his head. “Do it then.”

Eddie gawks back at him, slightly phased by Steve’s dare. “What?”

“Try it,” he repeats. “See, I think past your hard exterior and don’t-give-two-shits personality, you don’t actually have the balls to pick a fight with anyone, let alone me—”

Eddie feels a fire travelling to his head. It’s uncontrollable. In a normal circumstance, Steve would be right; Eddie would like to remain lowkey, keep himself out of trouble. But he refuses to let Steve Harrington, of all people, bully him into backing down.

So he purses his lips and spits right onto Steve’s, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Eddie can see his saliva caught on the bottom of Steve’s mouth as it hangs open in stunned silence. It travels down his chin, and then across the angle of his jaw. Finally, it drips onto the pavement below their feet.

He knows he’s essentially started a war, so Eddie balls up his fists and waits for Steve’s next move. What he wasn’t expecting, was for Steve’s tongue to flick out and catch the bead of spit that still remained on his pout; and even less, him sucking that lower lip between his teeth to clean it off.

The breath is sucked right out of his lungs as Steve stares straight into his eyes and catches the collar of his shirt in his hand once more. There noses bump against each other. And their foreheads. And their chests.

“You fucking freak,” Steve says lowly. But it’s paired with his thigh shoving between Eddie’s legs hard enough that it makes his balls ache as his driven against the side of his van. He tries to stop it, but his cock twitches, the seam of his jeans rubbing against it in a frustratingly amazing way.

Something about the threat of violence mixed with friction, a body pressed against his own, a low voice growling in his ear, and an objectively attractive man, gets Eddie going. Even though he’s ashamed that he’s getting hot over a guy he was more than thrilled to see beaten to a pulp earlier in the year.

He wiggles against Steve’s thigh. It doesn’t help the throbbing between his legs. “Back away, Harrington.”

“Make me.”

“I swear to God…”

“What? You swear to God, what?”

“You have three fucking seconds, man!” Eddie shouts. What comes after three seconds? He’s not sure. But that’s all Steve has before Eddie does it.

The threat doesn’t help. Steve starts counting down with a sneer on his face. “Three… Two…”

All of Eddie’s pent up rage channels through his fist.

“One!” Eddie finishes, and clips Steve in the jaw with his knuckles. It sends a shock through his wrist, up into his forearm.

There are a few things that go through Eddie’s mind in that moment.

First, he’s wildly proud of physically standing up for himself. It has been years of letting guys like Harrington and Carver and Hagan touch him without repercussion. It’s time he got a real hit in.

Second—even more than being proud—he’s frightened. Because Steve’s gaze is so fiery that he swears he can almost see his eyes starting to glow red.

This brings Eddie to his third and final thought. That he’s about to die. Because Steve is going to fucking kill him. He’s kind of ashamed to admit that his tummy hurts from the nerves of it all.

Steve only stumbles backwards half a step, Eddie’s shirt still balled up in one of his fists, whose legs are still splayed around Harrington’s strong thigh. Steve’s free hand comes up to wipe at his lip, which Eddie now notices has a split in it that is starting to bloom red. They both stare at his skin stained up with blood as he wipes it away.

“You…” Steve starts, his eyes wild as they dart around Eddie’s face. “You made me bleed.”

Eddie swallows down his fear, manages to spit out, quietly, “You deserve it.”

Antagonizing a guy who has thirty pounds on him is probably not the best idea. But he’s already done the worst. Might as well really commit to the schtick.

He holds his breath. Waits for Steve to make the next move, which he assumes will be his own split lip, maybe another bruised cheekbone, maybe a broken nose.

Steve’s thigh presses even harder between his legs. Eddie’s balls throb against the pressure of it, the feeling of his weight bearing down on Steve’s leg, the solidity of his knee. Eddie tries to wiggle his way away from the pain, but it stirs something in the pit of his stomach. The familiar feeling of pleasure, a need for Steve to move against him.

Eddie makes a noise, soft and quiet. It could mean anything, really; that he’s uncomfortable, or scared, or even angry.

Only he knows for sure what it really means.

That he’s turned on. That his cock is twitching as blood starts to rush south.

And that he really needs to get off Steve’s thigh before he sees it. Feels it.

“Steve,” Eddie says desperately, his toes barely scraping the pavement below them. Each time he moves, it makes his dick pulse. He wants to wiggle away, but he knows it will only hinder him. And if Steve finds out that Eddie’s getting hard, he’ll probably be beaten within an inch of his life.

That’s why he’s shocked when Steve rams forward, and aggressively presses his lips onto Eddie’s.

There’s this moment where, rationally, Eddie cannot believe that Steve is kissing him. His mouth is parted in shock, he can feel Steve’s hot breath, his smoky tongue shoving deep into Eddie’s mouth, the distinct flavour of blood—a coppery tang—dancing on his tastebuds. And for a second—purely on instinct—he kisses back. The wet slide of their tongues gliding together, as brief as it is, makes Eddie groan into Steve’s mouth.

But then, reality strikes.

He shoves against Steve’s chest, forcing their faces apart. “What the fuck, man!”

Steve stumbles back, his leg finally dislodging from between Eddie’s. He wipes at the corner of his mouth, maybe to catch the blood, or maybe the spit. He looks wild as he stares into Eddie’s eyes. “What? You gonna hit me?”

Eddie clenches his jaw. His face is burning up. With rage, with desire. The line between the two is starting to blur. “It seems like you’re asking for it.”

“Maybe I am,” Steve says, with a glimmer in his eye that challenges Eddie. Some sort of silent communication. A dare, or… an invitation?

Eddie swallows down the feeling that this must be some sort of joke, that Steve’s trying to catch him in some sort of gay act that he can use as fuel against him to make his life a living hell. But Steve wouldn’t kiss Eddie just to get a reaction from him. He rationally knows that. But still, his eyes scan the parking lot, searching for any signs of Steve’s friends who might be waiting for the opportunity to jump him.

There’s nothing. No one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he makes a fast and impulsive decision, slipping the key into the back door of his van and prying the doors open.

Eddie points inside. “Get the fuck in.”

A few second pass, Eddie nearly drowning in nerves that maybe he’s reading the situation wrong. Maybe this isn’t some kink thing for Steve, maybe the kiss wasn’t a kiss and was… fuck, he doesn’t even know.

But he doesn’t have to worry too long, because Steve—jaw tight—pushes past Eddie, and hauls himself into the back of the van. His head bows under the low ceiling as he circles back, gives Eddie a look somewhere between inquisitive and angry, and then finally sits down on a crumpled blanket. His shoulders rest against the back of the passenger seat, his legs bent and spread in front of him.

Steve reaches down and squeezes between his legs, where Eddie just now notices the distinct outline of his cock, sitting sideways in his little blue shorts against his hip bone. Against his better judgement, his mouth waters.

A large part of him wants to ask Steve what’s going on. What he wants. How far this thing is supposed to go. Whether or not it’s a game.

But the other part of Eddie—albeit, the smaller one—already knows the answers to those questions.

He pulls all of his confidence out of the recesses of his mind, decides then and there that he’s running the show. That Steve likes him running the show.

“Pathetic,” he says, letting all of his malice towards high school jocks, towards Steve, seep into his tone. “You’re getting stiff from a split lip and my spit running down your face.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just fists his fingers into the blanket under his body. He cants his hips forward, as if he’s answering Eddie. Showing him just how hard he really is by displaying the bulge in the front of his shorts.

Eddie holds back the moan that he desperately wants to loose.

He’s seen Steve in a state of undress before. Not completely, but enough to know that the panes of his chest are flat and solid, that his skin always seems sun kissed, even in the winter, that he has a patch of chest hair that he’s started to grow out since quitting the swim team. He’s always noticed the lump in the front of Steve’s Levi’s. Knew that he was packing from that alone.

But now he can see just how big Steve really is as his cock strains beneath his uniform.

Eddie takes a step forward, cocks his head to one side as he sizes Steve up.

“You’re a prick, you know that?” he says.

Another step forward.

Steve’s brows twitch inward, almost apologetically, but he still doesn’t say anything. Just stares up at Eddie with the biggest, roundest hazel eyes he’s ever seen.

Eddie shoves his boot between Steve’s Nikes, uses it to pry Steve’s legs further apart.

A small gasp escapes Steve’s lips as his knees fall open, the hems of his shorts riding up his thighs. Eddie lets himself ogle the strength of Steve’s legs, how the hair that grows on them thins on the soft inner portion, the closer it gets to his crotch.

He plants his boots on either side of Steve’s hips, bends down to grip his fingers in the red bow on the front of Steve’s shirt. “What a fruity little costume. Where’s your hat?”

Steve’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Pocket.”

“Put it on.”

Steve lifts his hips, his right hand reaching under him to fish out his uniform’s hat from the back of his shorts. Eddie tries not to tremble as Steve’s crotch gets closer to him. He suppresses the urge to sink down onto it, to feel the outline of Steve’s cock against his ass. To rut against it and listen to the noises he can ring out of Steve.

Steve quietly places the hat on his head, fidgeting with his hair, adjusting the way it sits. Eddie reaches out and smacks away Steve’s hand.

He condescendingly studies Steve, makes sure to really stew in the silence as he trails his eyes over Steve’s appearance, from the dumb hat to the dumb shirt, to the… strangely not dumb shorts. At least, not dumb in the way they fit Steve, the way they look riding up his thighs.

Slowly, Eddie sinks down onto his knees, hovering over Steve’s crotch. Only inches separate them, where Steve is hard and Eddie is now almost just as hard, and for a moment he thinks about how bazaar this all is. But he decides not to focus on that.

“Ahoy,” Eddie says, his voice low and amused as he flicks his fingers over the brim of Steve’s hat. He leans further down, feels the brush of Steve’s upper thighs against the ass of his jeans, hears the way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He slaps away the dumb hat, watches it fly to the other side of the van. “Never mind. You look better without it.”

Then, he lowers himself the rest of the way, until he’s fully seated in Steve’s lap. Their faces are inches apart. Steve’s eyes are blown and glassy, and Eddie can feel the subtle twitch of his thighs as he presses himself harder onto Steve’s crotch.

“Shit,” Steve breathes. His hands loosen from their balls by his hips, lift up to instead splay on Eddie’s thighs as they clench around Steve.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Eddie laces his fingers through the thick top of Steve’s hair. He can feel the crunch of hairspray as he tugs Steve’s head back, exposing the long column of his throat. The tendons strain as Eddie twists his hand tighter in Steve’s locks, forcing his head sideways. “Seems a little gay to me, Stevie.”

“Shut up—Ah!” Steve cries out as Eddie tugs harder; he can feel the tension of Steve’s scalp as he forces his head so far back that the angle of his jawline is right by his lips.

Since the opportunity presents itself, he leans forward and drags his mouth against the line of Steve’s jaw. Steve smells like the remnants of the expensive cologne that still clings to his neck after his shift, like the cigarette he’d been smoking in the lot, like sweat and man.

It drives Eddie crazy, makes him open his mouth and nip down behind Steve’s ear sharply, then run his tongue over the spot he pinched when Steve whimpers softly at the pain.

“Look at you,” Eddie says lowly, trailing his teeth down Steve’s neck. He can feel his heart beating erratically under his lips as they trace his pulse point, can feel the bob of his throat as Steve swallows his nerves. “So excited to have another man in your lap.”

“I’m not gay.” The denial in Steve’s voice is genuine.

A part of Eddie feels bad, like he should drop it, like he shouldn’t push. But it feels good to make Steve suffer for all the years he said the same things about Eddie. At least this was between them. Eddie hadn’t been so lucky when he’d been called queer in front of the entire school.

So he lifts his head higher, bites on Steve’s lower lip, sucks on the split to force blood back up to the surface. He can tell it hurts as Steve twitches away, but he soon leans into Eddie’s kiss when it softens again, parting his lips to let Eddie lick deep into him mouth.

“No?” he says, pulling back from Steve even though the latter chases his lips with his own. “Then why do you love my tongue so much, hmm?” He grinds his ass against Steve’s straining cock, makes him moan into his face. “Why are you ready to bust from me touching you?”

Steve’s eyes flutter open. He looks conflicted, but past the point of coherency. “I don’t know. I—I don’t know.”

“You want to know what I think?” Eddie doesn’t give Steve a chance to respond, just lowers his face until he can feel the brush of Steve’s ear on his lips. He whispers, “I think you’re the fairy.”

“No!” Steve cries, but his hips grind against Eddie as he chases the friction he craves.

“Oh, baby.” Eddie circles his hips. He can feel the line of Steve’s cock getting caught on the back seam of his jeans each time he moves, Steve’s eyes rolling into the back of his skull like it’s driving him mad. “Then why are you about to take my cock into your mouth?”

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he starts to shake his head, but Eddie is already climbing from Steve’s lap, pulling him by the collar of his shirt onto his hands and knees.

Like a good boy, he stays where Eddie moves him.

“Take this off,” Eddie says with another tug of Steve’s shirt. He untangles his hand from the fabric, leans back to watch as Steve grabs it by the hem and pulls it from his shoulders. Steve’s abs flutter and tighten as he tosses his uniform across the van, and resumes his position on all fours. “Fuck. That’s good.”

Eddie straightens out on his knees. His belt clinks as he undoes the heavy buckle, Steve’s eyes bugging out when he undoes his button and tugs down his fly.

“I’m not—”

“Shut up,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve’s eyes are latched onto Eddie’s cock tenting his boxers, his pink lips pulled between his teeth.

Eddie leans forward, popping his thumb into Steve’s mouth instead.

“Open wide.” He pries Steve’s jaw open with a twist of his fingers. If he’s being honest, he’s not met with much resistance. Steve’s mouth just kind of falls open willingly. “Stick your tongue out.”

A small moan falls from Steve’s throat as his tongue lolls out of his mouth, dripping and pink, pushing on Eddie’s thumb. He runs it against the valley of Steve’s tongue, spreading around the little pool of spit that makes his cock kick under his boxers.

“Now stay still,” Eddie says, bringing his wet thumb to the front of his underwear. He shoves them down, his cock springing free so close to Steve’s face that he has a hard time not immediately ramming forward. He tucks the band under his balls, drawing them tighter against his body, creating a delicious pressure that makes him throb with want.

He wraps his fingers around his shaft, gently. He doesn’t want to work himself up too quickly, wants this thing that’s happening to last as long as it can. He knows his dick is already wet from how much he’s leaking, but he still brings his thumb—covered in Steve’s spit—to circle the slit of his cock.

Steve’s eyes watch, transfixed, as Eddie pulls away—a string of his precum connecting this thumb and the reddened tip of his cock.

“Jesus,” Steve says, his voice full of lust. His sticks his tongue back out before Eddie has to tell him to, a long rope of saliva falling from it onto the van’s floor.

Eddie is so hard that his cock is curving upwards, the veins under his skin so swollen that they seem as if they might burst. It feels like it’s a real possibility.

“How many cocks have you sucked before, Steve?” Eddie asks, carding his hand through Steve’s hair once again. He wraps the tendrils around his fingers, tugs Steve forward.

Steve shakes his head in answer, but he doesn’t close his mouth, doesn’t put is tongue back between his lips.

With his left hand, Eddie guides his dick towards Steve’s face. The tip of it grazes Steve’s forehead, then down the bridge of his nose. Across his cheeks. It leaves a little shining trail in its wake.

“That’s okay.” Eddie rubs his cockhead against the expanse of Steve’s tongue. He rings his fingers around himself, pushes forward until he milks a drop of precum from his slit. He wipes it so it mixes with Steve’s saliva in a little pool in his mouth. “I’ll teach you.”

He sinks forward.

The glide of Steve’s tongue is delicious as Eddie moves against it. There’s not a lot of anything, besides the heat and the wetness, but just the visual of it all really gets Eddie going. Steve’s eyes shine up at him, nearly black, never breaking eye contact even as Eddie watches him with unwavering attention.

“Fuck,” he hisses as Steve moves forward on his own. The tip of his cock glides against the roof of his mouth, inches towards the back of his throat.

Eddie pulls back, and rocks forward. Pulls back and rocks forward. Each time he moves deeper into Steve’s mouth he earns a noise from Steve, a hum or a grunt. Spit starts to leak from the side of Steve’s lips; he tries to pull away from Eddie to wipe at it, but Eddie tugs his head further forward and says, “Leave it. I like it messy. Oh my God, this feels good.”

He grips even tighter at Steve’s hair, pulls his head back before shoving him forward again. This time, he feels his cock hit the back of Steve’s throat. It constricts around him as Steve gags. And it feels fucking incredible.

“Shit, Steve.” He rams his hips forward, his cock spearing into Steve with a force that makes him wretch and spasm, makes his mouth go slippery with saliva. Steve’s eyes start watering—he tries to gasp for air when Eddie pulls back, but he fucks back into Steve’s throat before he can manage. “Your mouth…”

He pitches forward again, as deep as he can go. At this point, Steve is struggling against him, desperate for a breath as Eddie’s dick literally chokes him. He’s trying to tear out of Eddie’s grip, his eyes squeezed shut, but still rimmed in red as they stream tears. But Eddie has a vice grip in Steve’s hair, keeping him stilled as his throat pulses around his dick.

And Eddie knows he should back off and let Steve get some air, he knows he should give Steve’s throat a break from the assault of his cock ramming into it. But Steve’s nose is buried in Eddie’s pubes, his balls are pressed against Steve’s chin that’s sopping wet from how much he’s drooling.

And he likes seeing Steve struggle.

He likes that Steve is trying to escape. That the pleasure has probably toppled into a type of pain for him. He likes seeing how small Steve looks on his hands and knees, likes seeing him cry, likes seeing him break under Eddie’s will. He has the power, whether to let Steve breathe. And he doesn’t want him to.

Eddie ruts forward again, even though there’s nowhere for him to go. Steve’s throat tightens around him even more as he gags aggressively around Eddie’s cock, as he shakes his head back and forth, really grapples against Eddie’s hold.

“That’s it,” Eddie growls, the ball of pleasure coiling tight in his lower abdomen. “That’s it—fucking—swallow—"

Steve’s throat tries, but he’s not thinking clearly. His eyes spring open now, in fear. He hasn’t breathed for probably 45 seconds; his jaw is closing reflexively around Eddie’s dick, his teeth scraping sharply against his swollen shaft.

Eddie kind of likes it.

But as much as Eddie wants to push the boundaries, he finally retreats.

Steve starts hacking up a lung as he bows his head, catches himself on the floor with one hand while the other clutches his chest. He gasps. And then gasps, and gasps, and chokes on his own spit that falls out of his mouth in filthy little rivers.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eddie says, because he literally cannot help himself when Steve is so wrecked in front of him. But to dilute the sentiment a bit he adds, “At least you’re good for something.”

Steve whimpers as he palms at his crotch. Eddie can see a dark blue patch where his cock has wept through the fabric of his shorts.

“Eddie,” he moans, squeezing at his engorged dick over and over again, chasing his own pleasure as if he’s right on the brink. Just like Eddie is.

So he liked getting his throat fucked.

Eddie feels his balls drawing close to his body just thinking about Steve’s desperation. He wants to touch Steve but he also wants to watch Steve suffer after all the shit he put him through.

“Turn over.” Eddie grabs his cock, strokes it as he watches Steve’s eyes go wide once again, face wet from tears and drool, lips swollen, cheeks red.

“What?”

“Turn the fuck over, dude. Now.” He grabs at Steve’s shoulder and digs his fingers into his flesh as he pulls him sideways.

“I—I don’t want you to fuck me,” Steve says, afraid again. But he follows Eddie’s direction, flipping over in the opposite direction. His slutty little Scoops shorts strain tightly over his ass, makes it look round and definitely fuckable.

As much as Eddie knows he’s already been a lot—would like to continue to be a lot, make Steve squirm and cry and fucking scream—he’s really not that much of an asshole to force himself on Steve when he says no.

But Eddie has no issues with making it seem like he is.

“Do you think I give a fuck?”  he says lowly as he bends forward to press his lips into the shell of Steve’s ear. “Arch your back for me.”

He straightens up, smacks his hand on the curve of Steve’s back, and pushes. Eddie pushed until Steve’s spine is bowed in, his cheek plastered against the blanket on the floor, his ass high and his knees spread. His other hand runs against the jut of Steve’s ass, grips into its flesh so hard that he’ll leave a handprint.

Steve moans unabashedly, his mouth hanging open and his eyes squeezing shut. His hands flounder to grab onto something, eventually stretching straight forward to grip at the base of the passenger’s seat. His hips push into Eddie’s hands like he wants more.

Who is Eddie to say no?

He curls his pointer fingers, tucks them under the waistband of Steve’s shorts. He tugs enough to slip them down a couple of inches on Steve’s hips, but not enough to strip him completely.

“This uniform should never have been approved,” Eddie muses, tugging the shorts down even more. Steve’s ass is halfway nude, Eddie ogling at the seam down his body like it leads to a pot of literal gold. “Why did they make these shorts so tight?”

“Just—just take them off, dude,” Steve pants from where he’s basically buried in the blanket by his head.

Eddie pauses, cocks his head sideways to stare down at Steve. “You’re not exactly in a position to make requests, dude. I’ll do what I want to do.”

A sound of indignity escapes Steve. Maybe a scoff, or a moan, or a whimper. Kind of a mix of all three.

“In fact,” Eddie continues, “maybe I’ll stop here. Maybe your shorts will just stay on the whole time.”

“No,” Steve cries in complaint as Eddie pulls his shorts back up onto his hips.

It’s not a real threat. There’s no way in Hell that Eddie would end this thing without getting a good look at Steve’s cock. He’s heard rumours in the halls of Hawkins High, wants to know if any of them ring true. Although, he can already tell by the thick outline between Steve’s legs that the rumour about Harrington having a massive dick is more than true. Overly true.

There’s a part of Eddie that wishes this wouldn’t be a one-time thing, even though every rational part of his brain is telling him it will be. He wants to find out if any of the other rumours are true too—if Steve really is good with his mouth, if he fucks like a god, if he’s able to go more than one round.

Some things, unfortunately, are bound to stay a mystery.

But for now, Eddie has Steve pliant underneath him, moving where he moves, bending where he bends. He’s going to enjoy it.

He grabs at Steve’s hips, brings them towards where his dick is still hard and wet. The tip of his length runs along the fabric, leaves a little wet trail where Eddie guides it over Steve’s clothed asscheeks, and then the seam down the middle of his shorts. He rams his hips forward, so his cock shoves between Steve’s legs from behind.

Eddie knows his cock is dragging where Steve’s balls are more than likely aching underneath his clothes. He knows he feels it too when Steve groans and shoves his ass even harder into Eddie’s hips.

“Oh, fuck.” Steve rocks forward, slams back once more against Eddie where his dick is nestled between Steve’s spread thighs. “Fuck, yeah, keep doing that.”

Eddie guides Steve’s hips roughly, starts fucking against Steve with intention.

The van rocks each time Eddie’s hips slap into Steve’s cheeks, the windows starting to fog up as they both pant into the stale air. It’s humid and muggy, everything feels sticky and damp, and it’s so incredibly hot. Eddie secretly wants to run his tongue over the panes of Steve’s chest, wants to trail it between the defined lines of his muscles like it’s some sort of maze. He wants to bury his face in the patch of chest hair that Steve has between his pecs, trail his mouth over his nipples, catch the beads of sweat that run into it from his neck.

But all of that is too much. He can’t do that with Steve, hasn’t even done that with anyone. Eddie knows he has to keep things impersonal, but that doesn’t stop his desire from rearing its ugly head.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Eddie says, pitching his hips so far forward that he can feel the heat of Steve’s erection on the top of his own. His mouth runs away from his as he repeats, “I want to fuck you. Want to watch you take my cock.”

Steve whines, his knuckles going white from how hard they’re gripping the base of the seat in front of him. “No, I don’t—I don’t want that.”

“Yes, you do. You want cock up your ass—admit it. You want my cock up your ass.”

“No. No.” One of Steve’s hands fly backwards, grabs at Eddie’s hips. It holds him painfully close, enough that Eddie can feel the tremor in Steve’s thighs, the pulse of his cock as it sits untouched in his shorts.

“Think about how good it’ll feel, Steve. I bet you fuck yourself with your fingers all the time. I bet you wish it was me.”

Eddie can feel how close he is to coming. Ten seconds is all he has to decide what he wants to do, if he’ll stain up Steve’s pretty uniform and make it unwearable for tomorrow’s shift. It’s a tempting idea. But Eddie wants to feel Steve’s skin against him before he’s spent.

He pulls away from Steve; his cock bucking wildly against his abdomen from the loss of stimulation. It’s red and raw where he was rubbing against the fabric of Steve’s shorts, and Eddie knows it’ll be uncomfortable tomorrow.

No part of him cares.

“Take these off,” Eddie says, but he’s already pulling Steve’s shorts off before the other man can comprehend his words.

The seams pop as Eddie pulls them down Steve’s thighs, down to his knees where they draw close together from the restriction of the fabric. Which just won’t do, really, so Eddie tears them down further, until they’re pulled past Steve’s knee-high socks.

Those are definitely staying on, Eddie decides as he stares down at a completely naked Steve. It’s like something from a porno mag as Steve resumes his position, spreading his knees and arching his back, the slutty little socks the only piece of clothing left on him.

And from this angle, everything is exposed. Eddie’s eyes glue between Steve’s legs where is ass is spread open, his asshole winking up at him, pink and inviting. Lower, where Steve’s balls hang heavily, perfectly groomed. And past that, his prick, so fucking swollen that Eddie is perplexed how he hasn’t nutted ten times over in his own boxers.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, stroking himself a few times because he physically cannot hold back when Steve is so goddamn pornographic. He takes his hand, drops his cock. Instead reaches forward and runs his fingers from the small of Steve’s back, down the seam of his ass. He stops at his hole, presses his thumb there. Feels Steve flutter against the pad of it. “I bet you’re so tight. Closeted guys usually are. Virgins, you know? At least where it counts.”

“I’m not—” Steve starts, but he cuts himself off when Eddie applies pressure to his asshole. He wants to slip his thumb inside, but he won’t do it unless Steve tells him to. “Fuuuccckk!”

Below their knees, an impressive pearl of precum pushes from the tip of Steve’s dick where it hangs between his legs. It reaches the floor before it disconnects from his body. Eddie wants to lick it up.

In fact, he wants to do everything to Steve—for Steve. He’s always been a giver. Loves the weight of a dick on his tongue, loves making a guy lose control and shout his name, loves the way cum shoots into his throat and coats his tongue in hot pools of white. He wants to fuck Steve and have Steve fuck him. Wants to teach him all the different places he can come from.

It’s not just a want anymore, it’s a need. But he won’t do it. At least not this time.

Eddie leans forward, tangles his hand in Steve’s hair for the second time tonight. Hauls him upright long enough that he can whisper into his ear, “I’m gonna fuck you, Steve Harrington. Mark my words. You’ll think about me every goddamn night until your fantasies just won’t cut it anymore. You’ll come crawling on your hands and knees begging for it. You’re gonna beg for my cock, Steve, and when you do, I’m gonna fuck the part of you that still thinks you’re straight right out of that dumb head of yours.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open and he fucking cries into the air, his eyes squeezing shut and his hand reaching for his own dick as it dribbles into the blankets under his knees.

Eddie doesn’t give him a chance to say anything, just shoves him face first into the ground. He gathers all of the moisture in his mouth and spits with perfect precision straight onto Steve’s asshole. The puddle of saliva gathers on the rim of muscle, until it flexes hard enough to force its path down his crack, over his perinium. It reaches his balls, leaves a little shining trail before it dissipates into his skin.

His hips surge forward, pressing the tip of his dick where his thumb had just been. A promise for a later date. But instead of pushing inside, Eddie ruts against the line of Steve’s ass, watching as the pink tip of his cock gathers the wet and slips above Steve’s tailbone.

“Gonna come,” Eddie pants, grasping at Steve’s asscheeks and forcing them closer together so they better hug around the base of his dick. His abs clench, and suddenly he’s seeing stars as he paints the moles on Steve’s back with his load.

His dick visibly pulses in tandem with his heartbeat, the veins protruding even more than before, the colour of it turning so red it borders on purple.

And he shouts so loud that his voice breaks, because he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life. More than he ever has in his life. The cum on Steve’s back gathers in the valley of his spine, all the way down to where Eddie’s dick is still twitching against the small of his back. Some even reached his hair, and Eddie can’t help but be smug that he ruined something Steve’s prides himself on.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie falls back on his knees, his spent cock starting to soften as it hangs above his jeans. He tries to catch his breath, tries to stop the pounding in his ears that he genuinely thinks could make him pass out.

In front of him, Steve whines where he’s been left stranded.

The part of Eddie that cares wants to reach forward, touch Steve, get him off. He’s never left someone hanging before; it’s just not his style.

But this isn’t someone, this is Steve. The guy that made—makes—his life a living hell whenever he’s at school. Sure, it’s gotten better in recent years, but he’s never apologised for actively bullying him. For spending endless hours calling him a loser, and a dork, and a freak. For helping spread rumours that Eddie is gay.

And Eddie is smart enough to know that Steve is probably projecting his fears, blah blah blah. Eddie doesn’t give a fuck about that. All he gives a fuck about is that he has a chance to make Steve feel as forgotten about as Eddie has since he was in goddamn middle school.

So he takes a step back on his knees, starts tucking himself back away in his boxers as Steve cranes his neck to throw him a pleading look.

“Please touch me,” Steve begs. He rights himself so he’s facing Eddie, no longer on his knees. He spreads his legs, grips his cock so hard by the base that it looks like it’s about to pop. “I want you to suck me.”

The way Steve phrases that literally makes Eddie’s mouth water, almost has him bending to get on his knees and take Steve into his mouth.

He could get hard again just by the thought of it.

But he sticks to his guns, zipping up his jeans, doing up his button, languidly sliding the leather of his belt back through the buckle.

“Nah, I’m not feeling up to it,” Eddie says, which is a bold-faced lie, but Steve doesn’t have to know that. He shrugs his shoulders noncommittally as he fishes his smokes from his pocket, places one between his lips. “But I won’t stop you if you want to get yourself off.”

He hopes Steve takes the bait. He wants to watch Steve come, as much as it would still be satisfying to watch him scurry off with the worst case of blue balls he’ll ever have in his life.

Steve gawks at Eddie, his brows pinching above the bridge of his nose, so he gets that signature little crease when he gets all confused. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” Eddie lights up the cigarette and settles his back against the wall of his van like he doesn’t care whether Steve stays or goes.

But damn, he wants him to stay.

Steve’s (insanely) pink lips part. He looks so shattered that he might actually cry, which has Eddie feeling only slightly bad.

Not enough to change his mind, but enough that he’ll point it out.

“Please?” Steve says, voice desperate. “Is that what you want? For me to—to beg?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He wants to see what Steve does without his instruction. Wants to see him humiliate himself without Eddie even having to ask. So he just takes a drag from his smoke and blows it towards Steve’s face.

“Will you—will you please touch me?” Steve pleads quietly. He strokes his cock lightly, not enough to make himself come because he’s obviously still hoping that Eddie will do it for him. “Please? Please, Eddie?”

What a fucking sight to behold, King Steve begging The Freak for whatever he’ll give to him. It almost makes him bend. Probably one more desperate word from Steve’s pretty mouth would convince him.

He almost hopes he’ll be swayed.

“No, Steve,” Eddie still says, his voice only wavering mildly. He hopes Steve didn’t catch it. “See, I think it would be pretty gay of me to get you off, you know? As one straight guy to another, I know you’ll understand.”

It’s a pretty low blow, but Eddie has never been above pettiness.

The apple in Steve’s throat bobs as he thinks through his options, his hand barely slowing from the miniscule touches he grants himself. He eyes the pile of blue clothing in the corner of the van.

Eddie holds his breath, begging the universe to make Steve stay.

“You’re an asshole,” Steve says. But he leans back against the seat, facing Eddie, and he starts touching himself intentionally.

“I learned from the best.” Eddie locks his eyes on Steve’s hand as he strokes his cock. His foreskin doesn’t stretch quite enough to cover the cherry-red tip each time his fingers ring upwards, but it moves with each pump of his hand, helps it glide over his skin. Eddie can’t help but choke out, “Shit.”

Steve’s feet plant themselves firmly on the floor, his hips tilting towards his fist like he’s chasing his own touch. His fingers loosen, reaching down to squeeze at his balls that look like they’re tight, like he’s already on the brink of coming.

“I wish you’d touch me,” Steve says softly, reverently, and Eddie thinks how unfair it is that Steve seems sweet. Like he could be sweet anyway, if he wasn’t such a cunt.

That being said, it’s the final straw for Eddie’s willpower, he can’t not touch Steve anymore. He’s never been a strong man, and it seems he’s found another weakness.

So Eddie snaps, he’s unable to stop himself from crawling towards Steve, whose eyes go wide with gratification and lust, like all his prayers have been answered.

Without a word, Eddie runs his hands over Steve’s fuzzy thighs gently, revels in how soft his skin feels, how pliant it is under his fingertips. It gets even softer as he slips his palms behinds Steve’s knees. They seem to unfurl, as if Steve is inviting Eddie to hook his arms beneath them.

So that’s exactly what he does.

Eddie hauls Steve up with all his strength. And Steve uses his own muscle as well, his abs going taut as he flings his legs over Eddie’s shoulders.

It might be the hottest thing Eddie has ever seen before—Steve’s stomach creasing as he pushes forwards, forwards, forwards until Steve’s nearly bent in half. And the sounds he’s making—these pathetic little mewls—are nearly fucking unfathomable, his hand slapping wetly against his flesh as he fucks himself raw, fast, hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come—” Steve’s mouth falls opens in a silent scream, his thighs tremoring under Eddie’s grip.

Eddie reaches forward at the very last moment, squeezes his hand around Steve’s cock right as he starts to cry out. It’s hot and thick in his hands. Smooth. Hard as fucking steel, but Eddie still rings his fingers so tight that the red crown squishes slightly under the pressure.

He stores away all of that information for later, knows already that he’ll make himself come to the memory of Steve’s cock in his hand, the face Steve makes when he tumbles over the ledge, the way his cum shoots with each wave of his orgasm.

With Steve’s gaping mouth, and his body bent in on itself, Eddie takes the opportunity to aim Steve’s cock towards his parted lips. They’re really only a few inches apart, considering the compromising position Steve is in. The opportunity presents itself on a silver platter, and it seems rude if Eddie just passes it up.

So Eddie aims it towards Steve’s lips as they fall open in pleasure, and he forces him to come onto his own tongue.

It’s probably the most erotic thing Eddie has ever seen; Steve’s cum paints his lips in white, his lungs heave, his voice escapes in tiny little ah, ah, ah’s each time Eddie’s fist pumps out another rope, and another, and another. Eddie can feel Steve’s dick pulsating as hard as his own did earlier. He can tell that he probably came as hard, too, by the amount of cum that fills his mouth.

Shit, Steve barely seems conscious of that fact. His irises have disappeared into his skull like he needs a goddamn exorcism. But he’s shaking like he’s currently getting one.

Undoubtedly, Eddie is rock solid again in the confines of his jeans, battling more fantasies about sticking his cock inside Steve before he has the chance to come down from his high, making him scream as he pounds his prostate and uses his cum to jerk his overly sensitive dick until it gets hard again.

It’s a very vivid image in Eddie’s mind. So much so that he has to drop Steve’s knees immediately or he’s just gonna… do it.

Steve gasps as his lower body hits the floor, watching confusedly as Eddie scurries back to the farthest corner. The spark of recognition flashes in his eyes, and Eddie can tell that Steve is now gaining some clarity, that he’s realising he, A: let Eddie touch his dick, B: just lost his goddamn composure enough that he was whimpering and shit, and C (Eddie’s favourite): has a mouthful of his own jizz.

It would normally be hilarious when Steve frantically sits up, swallows his cum (much to Eddie’s surprise), and starts grappling to find his discarded uniform that’s strewn in every corner of the van. Only, Eddie is dealing with his own revelations of, well, very similar things. Like… He just touched Steve’s dick. He made Steve whimper and shit. And, yes, he made Steve cum in his own mouth.

Everything is already a fever dream. There is no way. There is just… no way.

Eddie hauls his knees closer to his chest, makes sure Steve can’t see that he’s hard again. Suddenly, it feels pathetic, now that the heat of the moment has simmered back into something… cold. Whatever it was before.

Only now there will be this knowing between them. A shared memory of… of… this. Touching, and begging, and talking. The things Eddie said to Steve like he’s a guy that says stuff like that. It’s mortifying.

Eddie’s hands tremble as he reaches for the cigarette that was dropped on the floor. It burnt a hole in his blanket, but whatever, there’s a million more where that came from. And he lights it back up to hopefully stop the panic that’s starting to settle in.

Steve has already pulled on his boxers and his shorts, that have suspicious little trails of sticky stains. Eddie can’t look, so he focuses on the wall in front of him, and hopes Steve doesn’t notice the tremble in his fingers.

“Can you hurry up, dude?” Eddie says, because he needs to stick his head between his knees before he passes out.

Are things gonna be better at school next year because if this? Or worse? The same?

He can’t imagine that Steve would sick Jason on him now that he’s graduated. But there’s more impossible things that have happened in this world. Like, for instance, what just happened between them.

Steve knows Eddie’s for sure gay. But by basically fucking him, which should be a comfort to Eddie. Still, he’s worried Steve will somehow manipulate it into something bad, like he’s some sort of homo predator. Will he tell his friends, who will tell the whole school? Will Eddie’s life be miserable next year as he repeats his third time being a senior while Steve isn’t around to reap any of the consequences?

Steve pulls his head through his shirt, his hair sticking out in all different directions. Eddie swears there’s still cum on the side of his lips, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“I’m—I’m going.”

“Go faster.”

Steve tumbles forward, trips over the balled-up blanket as he reaches for the back doors, his top still scrunched to expose a strip of his lower abdomen. But he makes it, flings open the van and flies forward, his face nearly kissing the pavement.

The cool air hits Eddie like a brick wall, but a welcome one. It reminds him that he’s a human and not just some buzzing ball of anxiety. So he leans towards it, takes a deep breath, opens his eyes.

That’s when he notices that Steve has turned around, that he’s stalling. He nervously fidgets with the red tie on his top, stares at Eddie like he wants to say something.

And for a minute, Eddie thinks he will. His lips open, and then close. And then open again. He gets that crease above the bridge of his nose. He cards his hand through the top of his hair that’s sweaty and sticky, and Eddie can tell he realises that as his face scrunches up a bit.

But he doesn’t. At least, not what he was going to say. His jaw just sets in the tense way it had been at the beginning of the night, and he says, “See ya.”

Turns towards his BMW.

Eddie doesn’t stay to gawk. As soon as Steve starts walking away, Eddie slams the back doors and scrambles to the driver’s seat. He doesn’t waist time starting his van, tires squealing as he pushes the clutch to its limit to make it shoot forward.

And once he’s back at the trailer and settled into bed, he pretends he doesn’t come three more times that night to the thought of Steve’s O-face.

***

“Can you please just give it to Steve,” Eddie begs for the hundredth time. Eddie’s throat closes up over Steve’s name, makes it sound thick as he speaks it. But he doesn’t really care. He’s too tired to care, and definitely too tired for this conversation.

Sleep had come so sporadically last night that Eddie almost called off work. But he needs the money, and needs even more to not look like a pussy who’s avoiding Steve after last night.

“I just don’t understand why you have Steve’s Scoops hat.” Robin quirks her brow, stares at where Eddie is extending the piece of Steve’s uniform that had been forgotten in the back of his van last night. It was comforting, in a way, to have physical proof that he hadn’t just completely lost his mind and made the whole thing up.

“I told you, I found it in the parking lot.”

“How do you know it’s Steve’s?” Robin presses.

“Because, it… it was near where he parked his car.”

“How do you know where he parked his car?”

“I saw him drive away last night.”

“But you didn’t see him drop the hat?”

“I wasn’t staring at Steve,” Eddie says with a scoff. Which is absolutely a blatant lie. He had done a lot of staring. “Why would I see him drop the goddamn hat?”

Robin picks at her fries. Eddie had purchased her food on break today, mostly because he didn’t have the energy to argue. And he also thought it might make her behave.

Neither of those things had worked out.

“I just think it’s weird.”

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “What’s weird, Rob?”

“It’s just… Steve has this cut on his lip, and a bruise.”

Eddie’s heart picks up in his chest.

Oh, shit.

“And?” he asks, dropping his eyes to focus on his now fidgeting fingers.

“And he said he got it from Jason last night. That they got into a spat.”

Eddie’s heart slows down the tiniest bit. Okay. That’s… yeah. He can work with that. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“He said that Jason met up with him after work. In the parking lot.” Robin’s eyes narrows and they zero in on Eddie. “After he saw you drive away.”

Eddie’s world stops spinning for a split second, realising he got caught in the lie. Of course Steve would have his own story. Of course it wouldn’t align with his own.

But, he knew even though Robin knew he was lying, she wouldn’t know why he was lying. I fucked Steve Harrington last night, is not something she’d expect. At least there’s that.

“I—I guess Steve didn’t actually drive away last night. I don’t really remember, maybe his car was still there. I just found his hat—”

“But didn’t give it to him? If he was still there?”

“I hate the guy,” Eddie says. It’s not a lie. Not really. “Why would I give it to him?”

Robin shoves a handful of fries into her mouth, chews thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But why would you even care enough to pick up his hat, in that case?”

Eddie can feel his face getting red. Can see that Robin notices it too, as she judges him silently from under her lashes. “Why are you pressing me about this?”

She shrugs, takes a sip of her Coke now. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

The clock strikes five. That’s their cue to pack up and head back to their jobs. The legs of the chairs squeak as they push them back into the table.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Eddie asks, tossing out their trays full of garbage.

They head towards Scoops and Camelot Music. Eddie makes sure to stay far on his side of the hall, so he doesn’t have to face Steve.

“I just want to make sure nothing happened between you and Steve last night that you’re not telling me about.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his soda, can feel it bubbling up his throat and nearly out of his nose. He doesn’t catch his breath until they’re nearly standing in front of Camelot, Robin staring at him with concern, but also with this unsettling sense of knowing.

“What do you think happened?” Eddie’s voice comes out raw after he hacked up a lung. He goes with this question, because he figures it’s better than digging himself into a deeper hole.

“I’m not sure,” Robin says, poking at the hat in Eddie’s pocket. She turns towards Scoops without taking it, leaving Eddie with a literal white flag hanging from the back of his jeans. “But I hope it was nothing bad.”

She glares at Eddie, turns her sights towards Steve instead. He’s standing there in a freshly washed uniform. Hair perfect, because there’s no hat to squash it down. He’s staring at Eddie and Robin, but as soon as Eddie catches him, he straightens up and looks towards the buckets of ice cream instead.

“Why?”

“Because—” Robin places her hat on her head. Hikes up her own socks that slipped down her calves “—he asked if he could take my closing shift again tonight.”

Eddie’s face ignites, his eyes flying towards Steve accusingly. Eddie can tell he’s a few shades redder than normal as he twiddles his thumbs behind the counter, pointedly not looking in Eddie’s direction. Like he knows exactly what beans Robin just spilled.

“Fuck,” Eddie cries quietly to himself. He grabs the hat again, one last attempt to hand it to Rob. “Please—just—give this back to him.”

Robin purses her lips, takes a few steps away. “Give it to him yourself, tonight after work. You guys need to work through whatever hatred you have for each other. I’m not gonna be the middleman anymore.”

Eddie’s hand hangs limp between them as Robin turns away.

But she casts Eddie one more look before joining a blushing Steve behind the counter. “Just don’t leave any more marks on Steve. He’s really not that great of a fighter.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything more. Just watches as Robin walks back to the ice cream stand.

Before he looks away, Steve’s eyes lift from his feet. They meet with Eddie’s, and they’re filled with a certain type on intention.

Eddie knows in that moment that Robin will be disappointed tomorrow, when Steve shows up to his shift covered in bruises.

Masterlist

Socials

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie fandom #steddie smut #steddie brainrot #steddie blurb #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x steve harrington #gay eddie munson #dom eddie munson #top eddie munson #steve stranger things #bisexual steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #bottom steve harrington #mlm #stranger things fanfiction #smut #bully Steve Harrington

[bingoboingobongo]

Hey, don't know if you want more requests but here's this. Task force 141 reacting to their daughter grumpily trudging up to them saying some boy at their school won't take no for and answer and "apparently you're scarier than I am so could you please make him go away?" They're just bitter that their dad is more intimidating.

task force 141 + protecting their daughters

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: hmmm i don't normally like writing family au's but in the spirit of growth here we are (and it's not so bad lol)

simon "ghost" riley:

okay so i don't think it's a surprise that if simon found out some guy was harassing his kid at school he would flip out

are we surprised that simon is a super protective dad?

no. not at all.

you would probably have to physically stop him from trying to find out everything about the harasser so he could go beat him up

because lord knows if left unattended he would do exactly that

he has his own experience with people taunting and harassing him as a child and simon wants his kid's childhood to be polar opposites with his own

and this annoying boy at school is a threat to that

and simon's literally been trained to take out threats guys let's be fr

after he manages to cool down he ends up going to pick up his daughter from school and he has her point out who the guy who's giving her trouble is

he doesn't even have to say anything because as soon as this little snot sees ur kid pointing at him with simon staring daggers at him he's two seconds away from peeing his pants

and it's for good reason too because keep in mind this is like a 3'2 child (i don't actually know how tall children are) compared to a 6'4, probably over 200 pounds of muscle, simon with a death glare that's sent shivers down grown men's backs

i mean this kid has no chance sorry dude

definitely turns around and immediately sprints away

and what do you know the next day the snot-nosed turd doesn't even look at your kid except for terrified peeks in her direction

but you know simon still wishes he got to talk with (re: beat up) the kid

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so soap tries to solve things with humor so when he finds out some turd is harassing his daughter the first thing he does is try to make her feel better with some jokes

"geez that kid's a real idiot, how'd he pass first grade?"

"don't let it affect you, sweets, you're too good to be worried about someone who spends 90% of their brainpower on stupid things."

basically soap will trash talk this kid

and yk what same so i can't even blame him

when his daughter asks soap to deal with the kid, he definitely pats her on the back and says something like "i'll see what i can do" and then takes her out for ice cream

soap desperately wants to be the favorite parent so he's hesitant about going all "this kid must be stopped and i will do anything to ensure justice is served" in front of his daughter

definitely calls the school to get a better read on what's going on and then goes to talk to the parents themselves

and unfortunately soap doesn't exactly have ghost's height to help him intimidate people but one thing soap does have is massive muscles

that being said he doesn't want to go full intimidation mode so he tries to breach the topic lightly with the parents

but he will put his foot down if needed

he also insists on talking to the kid and when he does you know he threatens him in the nicest also most vaguest way possible to try and protect himself from any guilt

and although his methods may be questionable they work because the next day the snot-nosed turd apologizes to his daughter

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright so honestly i can see gaz as the kind of parent who preaches being kind and talking things out

but he's also definitely ready to throw hands if some loser is harassing his kid

now unfortunately for gaz he is not very intimidating

i mean he's tall but other than that there's not much

what can i say he has too many pretty genes to look intimidating

definitely will threaten the kid with a smile on his face though

like he's the kind of guy to sorta smile through it and pretend he's having a great time but his words are saying something else

like once he finds out he'll make his daughter show him who the loser is while he walks her to school

and then he'll pull him aside and tell him that he needs to stop talking to his daughter or else it's not gonna be pretty

and even though there's a smile on his face there's something unsettling about it that has the boy unnerved

and so that day at school he's definitely trying to avoid her

and after that he stops being a problem

john price:

alright price is a certified dilf and he's also super duper protective

especially over his daughter

as soon as hears that someone is harassing her he is seeing red

unlike simon though there's no threat of him doing something rash

definitely will have to go outside and smoke a cigar though

he'll ask his daughter who the guy who's harassing her is and will then find out where he lives

and he'll ask you to talk your daughter out for ice cream and a movie and while you're gone he goes to pay the harasser a little visit

i mean when it comes to protecting his daughter price is stone cold

i mean he is more than ready to threaten this kid if he even dares to look in her direction

and he will make sure the kid knows he's serious about it too

and price will only say things once so god forbid the kid doesn't learn his lesson

if so then um

the kids gonna miss a lot of school is all im gonna say

will then pick you guys up from ice cream and a movie and ask how it was

and will tell his daughter that everything's taken care of and to let him know if the kid tries anything again

and then the next day the kid literally refuses to look at your daughter

so mission accomplished

alejandro vargas:

alright so honestly i feel like alejandro is lowkey really intimidating

like idk it's that one smile he does that's sorta unsettling if you're not viewing it through a "omg he's so hot he's my babygirl i love him" lense

so to kids he can be scary when he wants to

when he finds out someone is harassing his daughter he absolutely flips out

one thing about alejandro is he definitely has a short fuse when it comes to people disrespecting stuff he cares about

also with the cartel and stuff he's very very concerned about his daughter's well-being and how she grows up

he wants to keep her seperate from all the violence of his workplace as long as possible so he tries to keep his cool in front of her

but it's pretty obvious how mad he is (as he should)

he makes his daughter point out who the kid is the next time he picks her up from school and then tells her to wait in the car while he deals with him

since it's in public he can't really do anything drastic but he can still be really scary

like he is not afraid to show this kid a glimpse of a gun to let him know that he means business

and maybe it's kinda sadistic but he wants this kid to be wetting his pants as retribution for what he did to his daughter

and you know what it worked because when alejandro returns the car he gives her a kiss on the top of her head, tells her he's proud of her for talking to him about this, and then drives away before she can see the kid crying with a wet spot on his pants

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

ok you guys know i love rudy but we have to face the facts

he just simply is not intimidating

i mean have you seen that clip of him yelling "special forces!" as he breaches that house in texas?

im sorry but he's just too cute it doesn't work out

but just because he's not intimidated doesn't mean he can't deal with his kid's problems

he absolutely loves his daughter and wants the best for her so when he finds out someone's harassing her he's less mad and more sad that she's going through this

he definitely will make sure she is okay at first and then take her on a day out just to make sure she's happy

and then he'll speak to her teacher to try and get a better feel of what's going on

at first he would probably let the teacher handle it because unlike some of the others he's on the fence about threatening a kid

but if the teacher proves to be incapable then he will take things into his own hands

he'll pull the kid aside and try and tell him nicely to back off and stop harassing his daughter

and if that still doesn't work then the serious voice comes out and you can just tell he's ready to throw hands

which honestly is kind of intimidating in and of itself because it's such a contrast to his normal behavior

and then the next day the kid apologized and then spent the rest of the year giving his daughter plenty of space

#bingoboingobongo.com #bingoboingobongo's christmas extravaganza #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost fluff #call of duty #soap cod #soap x reader #soap fluff #gaz cod #gaz fluff #gaz x reader #john price x reader #john price fluff #john price cod #alejandro vargas fluff #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas cod #rodolfo parra cod #rodolfo parra fluff #rodolfo parra x reader #cod #modern warfare 2 #mw2

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

TB S2 EP 13 THOUGHTS!

True, Omega has gotten really good with being a soldier. She's staying cool in high tension situations, she has good aim, thinks on her feet and outsmarts her opponents easily. But Phee is right, Omega hasn't gotten to just be a kid for a while now. She deserves to have a proper childhood

LOVED seeing Hunter's enhanced senses at work. Sometimes I catch myself going "froce sensitive?" just because he's so hyper-aware

^this is just based on him grabbing that dudes wrist when he tried to take his money

THAT MOMENT WHEN WRECKER GOT UP WHEN THE GUY WAS ALL "shoulda brought more muscle" BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR BITCH

Phee shooting that guy under the table like damn girly alright

"Yes, I am playing against myself. It is the only time this game is a challenge." YES BABY TELL 'EM ALL HOW SMART YOU ARE🤍🤍🤍

"We never had such a thing. I do not see the issue." Oh,,,, oh Tech Baby. Stop telling people how dumb you are🤍🤍🤍

Hunter did look like he was mulling over Phee's words

CID CAN GO AND :)

"Our mutually beneficial agreement wasn't so beneficial,,, mutually." Hunter your himbo is showing babes

HHHHH OKAY IT'S SUBTLE BUT!!! When Phee types in the coordinates to Pabu, her hand lands on Tech's shoulder. He briefly glances down at it, somewhat skeptically, and then she lifts it off again, before patting his shoulder and his eyes widen a little bit and maybe im too invested in this ship and I'll be quiet now bye

PABU IS SO PRETTY OMG

I LOVE that Phee isn't like a pirate-pirate. Like I thought she was shady but dang, she's just taking back people's heritage that was stolen from them and I LOVE IT

"Got some competition." WAAAAHH I KNEW IT

"Welcome" "Welcome" "Welcome" "Welc-" "PUT IT THERE" WRECKER I LOVE YOU

"Lots of food, drink and general merrimaking," points at Tech, "You'll probably hate it. It'll be great." Tech rolls eyes

^YOUR HONOUR I LOVE THEM

NO BECAUSE BECAUSE Tech is the sassy b in the squad and Phee switching her flirting technique from "hi there good looking" to "lol dumb b" IS EXACTLY WHAT OUR BOY WANTS AND SHE FCKING KNOWS IT

AND THEN IT WORKS BC TECH TURNS AROUND TO LOOK AT HER WHEN THEY SPLIT AND HE'S LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE AND THEN HE HAS THE LITTLE SMILE AND DOWN ANGLED FACE AND WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"I have not heard her laugh like that in some time." Heeeeessss learniiiiing (that Phee was right lol)

"As a father, you couldn't ask for a better place to raise a child." Okay, glad we're all on the same page. Like, I'm glad all we gotta do is take one goddamn look at Hunter and just go "Dad."

I know it's supposed to be a joke again, but like Wrecker being full for the first time? That's so sad. Imagine going to bed hungry EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. Being full for the first time is something to remember, Tech should be writing it down.

Omega and Lyana bonding on the boat was so sweet!!

Phee getting Tech away from his datapad to get him to appreciate life's beauty IS MAKING MY HEART SO FULL

"Pretty spectacular, right?" <- Phee using the word spectacular, even though its not in her usual vocabulary, because she's generally more succinct and down to earth, but it's totally a word Tech would use

"I suppose... that is... one way to... quantify it." <- Whenever Tech talks about data or research (topics without emotional involvement) his sentences flow nicely and evenly and he gets about 100 out in 2 seconds. Whenever he has to talk about emotions or emotions are involved in the conversation suddenly he gets quieter and his sentences have less of a flow. He doesn't stutter, but he needs a minute to get them out. hmm yes very interesting.

Hunter checking in with the girls, so cute

Omegas learned a lot and has been pretty secure in her ability, but hearing her sound so scared when the wave came? dang. loved that she immediately called hunter though. V sweet :)

TECH AND PHEE WORKING TOGETHER

PHEE HOLDING ON TO TECH TO GET UP THE WALL HEHEHEHEHEHHE

Not a single 'fear of heights' comment from Wrecker when climbing that ladder. Proud of him :)

Tech pushing through that crowd to check on his bro THE CUTENESS

Wrecker side-hugging the mayor when he's looking at all the destruction I CAN'T THAT'S SO SWEET

So,,, so Phee and Tech just move as a unit now, huh... very interesting

Phee not letting Tech disturb Omega, Lyana, and Wrecker and him listening to her so quickly just,,, I think she'll end up helping him connect to/understand human emotion better and show him how to navigate relationships and I'm SO HERE FOR IT

Like she knows people and is clearly good with relationships, and he recognises that and trusts her to point him in the right direction, WHICH HE DIDN'T AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EPISODE!!!

"We could stay and help out with things."

"I had the same idea."

"Did you, now?"

cue cute smiling at eachother

WAAAAAAAA MY BABIES!!!!

10/10 episode, made my heart v happy. Dave Filoni, I have left your walls, you may live in peace until next week.

#THIS EPISODE WAS EVERYTHING I NEED GOOD LORD #SO MUCH CUTENESS I LOVE IT!!!! #the Phee and Tech ship is gonna be what kills me #and not just because mine and phee's name are pronounced the same (but that does play into it) #anyway #star wars #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #sw #tbb #sw tbb #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb phee #tbb omega #phee genoa #Phee x Tech #tbb s2 #tbb s2 spoilers #tbb spoilers #clones

[lyramundana]

Since @whatudowhennooneseesyou wants more and I’m a people pleaser, here’s another version, again based on another convo we had. 

This time is about my man, the icon, love of my life and the only person that makes me want to have children. His children only. My bias and the reason I got into Stray Kids. 

Christopher Bang

Now here’s the thing:

This man is a fuckboy. That much it’s obvious. Just look at his interactions with Stay and his messages on bubble. Not to mention he’s an aussie (and a former eshay) this men are the definition of “danger”, For fuck’s sake, his nickname among friends was “Mr Steal your girl”, which fits perfectly with a Libra’s description because that’s what they usually do: Stealing girls (and make anyone question their sexuality). 

Now there’s a wrongly extended misconception that fuckboys have to be “cold, sarcastic, too-cool-for-love type” type of dudes. That they go around wearing leather jackets, riding motorcycles and spend their days fucking everything that moves. But this isn’t it. A fuckboy is simply a man that gets off from being desired and having the people he wants at his mercy, specifically in bed. There’s not a settled manual of dressing and general behaviour to be one, the name says it all: A boy who fucks. Easy. 

Christopher it’s exactly that. He fools us with his good boy persona, acting all shy with pick-up lines but still fishing out for more. Showing off his muscles at every single opportunity he has (like that one concert where the members went to lift his shirt and he just let them, putting his hands behind his neck in surrender), but if you pay close attention, he doesn’t really hide his fuckboyish manners. I can’t explain it, but there’s something in his attitude, the way he speaks sometimes and acts, that screams “i make girls orgasm every week to relax”. 

“Does that mean I’m your daddy? MOvIng oN”

“You know what else is big?”

“Say please”

Do you need any more proof? I think not. Now back to my delulu intepretation of him:

Christopher is the type of bf that would feel that he must be the "caregiver" of the relationship. He's the one who leads, who provides, who looks after you. That's his role and you shouldn't ever take that away from him. You can take care of him for a change sometimes because he also needs some coddling and attention, but most of the time, he's in charge. I think raising his members by himself for so long has enhanced this side of him. He's very protective, very picky and a perfectionist, so his partner has to learn patience because this man can be mentally and emotionally exhausting for them.

In his toxic version, he's extremely controlling and possessive. He doesn't let you hang out with other boys, or anyone he doesn't approve of. He makes big decisions over your own life for you because "he knows what's best". He'll treat you more like an accessory that needs to look good on him rather than a person. In his mind, you belong to him and that's final. If gets hit on, he’ll accept it with zero regrets and may return the gesture. He’ll show it when he likes someone’s physically and may flirt with them, but you’re not allowed the same behaviour. He expects you to be always at his beck and call, but he’ll most likely never be completely loyal to you. Funny thing is that he truly believes he loves you and you should be grateful for all he does for you. He simply wants his partner to be the best version of themselves, and if that casually fits his standards of perfection, well, does it matter? Every single thing you do has to pass through him first. He’s the type to end fights with angry sex and call it “talking things out”. He’ll make sure you never move on from him. If you break up, he’ll be the ex that still calls you “his” and sabotages your love life. He’ll manipulate you to the point you’re totally dependant of him, his perfect delicate doll. Remember this guy is one perfectionist dude and he has very high standards, and as his partner, he expects you to meet at least some of them.

As a yandere, he’ll be pretty much the same, with the difference that he won’t look at anyone else and he’ll never be unfaithful. He’s a smooth motherfucker, and so he knows how to keep you with him subtitly without you noticing. He’ll isolate you from everyone else, planting seeds of suspicion in your mind and pushing you to overthink stuff and doubt everthing around you, becoming almost paranoid. He’ll deliberatly create situations than can be easily misunderstood so you come running to him for comfort, believing he was right all along, while he hugs you tightly and kisses your hair, smiling to himself at seeing you right where you’re supposed to be. He’ll use every dirty asshole trick during arguments to win. Gaslight, pulling out insecurities, emotional manipulation, everything. He’s mad at you for not behaving the way he wants to but he doesn’t want you to leave him either.  He’ll start fight with you with the twisted purpose of getting you to be vulnerable and having the excuse to put you in your place. He does everything for you and gets angry if you try to do stuff for him. Your autonomy is taken away and you can’t leave him. Ever. He has a way to make you feel so loved, so cared for, so desirable, that you won’t notice the darkness closing around you until it’s too late. 

As a normal person, he’s also territorial, but in a relatively healthy way. His caregiver complex is still off the roof tho. He feels like it's his duty (and also his joy) to take care of you and make sure you're content. This man, when he loves, he does wholeheartedly. He worships the ground you walk on, he sees you as a heaven sent angel just for him, he adores you and would give you the world if he could. He hates when you go to other people for comfort or advice, because in his eyes, who's gonna help you better than him? He lives off feeling needed, of having you rely on him. He doesn't let it get to the toxic point because he's mature like that, but there are times that he wishes he could hide you from the world and keep you to himself. If he's in a bad mood, the members know they only have to bring you where he is and suddenly it's all good. The bad mood might not always wear off, but at least he wouldn't snap at anyone if you're there.

He gets shy with other people's compliments, but with you? He pulls out the fuckboy manual. He loves to make you blush, push your body against him and whisper the most indecently, spiciest pick-up linea. Those wicked pick-up lines he's not allowed to use with Stay? You've heard all of them. His incessant need for control purrs when he has you all flustered and nervous under his hands, submitting for him. We treat it as a running joke but I truly believe this man is an Alpha in an alternative universe.

The type of bf to assert his claim over you by physical contact. Throwing an arm around your shoulders, grabbing you by the waist, pushing his hand in your lower back to guide you. He makes sure you're never far from him when you guys are out. Another dude staring at you too much? He moves right by your side or behind you to send him a message. He's another one that loves seeing you wearing his stuff. The type to place his coat/jacket on your legs or shoulders, not only to keep you warm, but also to mark you even further as his person.

Honestly most of your fights are because of his jealousy, because when it comes to other problems, he talks it out like a champ and communicates his feelings. The only thing that makes his blood boil is the idea of losing you, especially to someone else. He can't stand people getting close to what he considers his. Like I said, an Alpha.

If I don't stop here this post will never end. Feel free anyone to add your own opinion about the matter.

#i didn't intend for this to be so long #but this man is my bias for a reason #ops #bang chan headcanons #skz headcanons

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Begging for you to talk about OJV Stans and Marj’s friendship. Mari coming out to Stan first and whenever she is having a meltdown him always zooming to find Kenny or Kyle is so wholesome. I always head cannon that Stan would view Marj like a little sister so your interpretation of their friendship makes me so happy. I would love to hear more facts/head cannns about them :3

Oh my god first of all HELL YES OJV Marj and Stan, their friendship slays so hard and I love that you’re asking abt it!

One of the things about OJV Stan is that he IS the Dad Friend. By which I mean he’s extremely protective but also unequipped for actual crises, and is prone to inadvertently indulging in shenanigans. The way this extends to Marj? Lemme get goin.

So when she came out to him, bro was CONFUSED like “uhhhh why am I the first person you’re talking about this with? Why not, I dunno, Kenny or something” like Stan fully isnt the person to go to for advice but he IS the person to confide in (plus he gives really good hugs if u need them) and he actually cried when her answer was “I just felt like I could trust you is all” this sweet boy, if he doesn’t know what to do in a situation he’s GONNA find someone who will, so he went “what about talking to Kyle? He might know more about this than me?” And she read him for absolute filth lmao all “well speakin of, that’s why I came to you. You have your own little secret that you’ve been scared to bring up, dontcha” AGDGJKLH

Nah but seriously, their friendship is so wholesome, she frequently scolds Stan for indulging Kenny’s recklessness, he’s out here like “dude Marj that’s a pyramid scheme don’t fuck with that shit” (she winds up running it lmfao) and may not always be the most observant person, but he knows his friends and ALWAYS recognizes the signs of Marj starting to shut down, and she knows that. She says the word and Stan is finding her someone with the emotional tools to help. I also like to think that Stan COULD be one of those people. OrangeJuiceVerse Stan Marsh is actually very emotionally intelligent, but he isn’t confident enough in that to think he has any room to help others. It’s the same reason that later down the line he wrestles with taking on a sponsee.

A more fun note: in that first year of college, the trio of Marj Stan and Cartman are THE musical theatre gang. I’m talking they are DESTROYING karaoke. I don’t know why I have this headcanon but I do and I love it. Another is that when Stan gets in trouble with her he gets so guilty for disappointing her lmfao like out here looking like a sad puppy all “I’m sorry Marj Ken and I thought hanging off the roof was the best way to get the top piece of his sculpture attached” smh “don’t tell Kyle” “don’t tell me what?” Lmao

And Stan is SUPER protective of anyone in his group, plus he’s kind of a social justice warrior lol he isn’t confrontational as Kyle and Cartman are but he’s GONNA go “hey dude that’s not cool” call someone out for being a dick and he’s intimidating when he gets mad! Like OJV Stan is a BIG BOY he’s a gentle giant for sure but fuck with someone he loves and suddenly the golden retriever boy is SCARY. karaoke trio nights someone says something transphobic and he is there all “the fuck did you just say to her?” Now Marj and Stan are both the ‘muscle’ of their group. Both are tall and strong and could definitely fuck someone up. They don’t, but they could. Both are pretty gentle in nature which is super sweet, but they could do some damage if they had to. They’re a slay duo tbh

That’s what I got rn dude, thank u for the ask I love the OJV homies!!!

#asks #south park #headcanons #OrangeJuiceVerse #stan marsh #lmm voice: look at my son #marjorine stotch #bad bitches only

[mari-writes]

🐈‍⬛❤️🦉

Bokuto is frozen. 

He stands there in their shared kitchen, unmoving, mouth open and eyebrows up to his hairline in obvious shock.

Kuroo waits, sweaty fingers gripping the bouquet of flowers he’s holding out towards his friend. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Is he crazy? No, he’s just kind of in love with his best friend-slash-roommate, and is tired of silently pining like a fool.

“K-Kuroo?” Bokuto blinks multiple times. “What is this..?” His gaze keeps going back and forth, from the flowers to Kuroo’s face, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“These are for you.” Kuroo shoves the bouquet toward his friend. “And, um, yeah.” He chuckles nervously. “I’m sort of… in love with you?”

Bokuto sways in place, like he might fall over at any minute. He doesn’t appear to be breathing. Kuroo leans down, searching the man’s face for any negative reaction. So far, shock is the only thing he recognizes. 

“Y-y-you,” Bokuto stammers, “love me?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo nods, determined to be honest. “I hope that’s okay with you. I don’t know how you feel about me, but I just wanted to say it. Even if we stay friends only. You should know how I feel.”

Time drags on as Kuroo continues to wait for his friend’s answer. The usual loud, chatty Bokuto is still basically a statue. It’s maddening, but Kuroo knows he shouldn’t push. It’s obvious the other man is still processing everything.

A few more moments pass until finally, Bokuto releases a long, shaky sigh, and then sucks the breath back in as he grips the flowers with both hands against himself. He swallows and bites his lip. Starts bouncing on his toes. His head jerks forward once.

Kuroo narrows his eyes. “Bokuto? Are you okay?”

“Sorry!” Bokuto cries. “This is just—I’m just so—I don’t know how to say this, but—”

“Dude, calm down.” Kuroo huffs a laugh, moving to sit on their sofa. “I’m not going to freak out if you reject me. It doesn’t matter.” That last claim is sort of a lie, but the last thing Kuroo wants to do is make his friend feel bad. 

“No!” Bokuto chases him onto the cushions, flower petals flying across the floor. “That’s not what I meant!” He leans in, so close that Kuroo can see the specks of gold in his irises. 

“What do you mean, then?” He levels Bokuto with an inquisitive stare, watching as the other man’s face splits into a joyous smile. 

“I mean, I feel the same! I have for a long time! But I didn’t think you did!” Bokuto’s voice is too loud for being this close. Kuroo winces. He’s about to chide Bokuto to quiet down before his friend’s words finally catch up to him. 

He glances back, heart pounding as the realization sets in. Bokuto had just said he felt the same way. He had accepted Kuroo’s confession.

He loves him back.

“Oh,” he says simply. “Cool.”

They stare at each other in silence for a moment. Then, still smiling, Bokuto sets his flowers down on the coffee table and scoots closer, until their knees knock. He leans in until they bump noses, until Kuroo’s eyes slightly cross.

“Ha,” Bokuto breathes. “You love me.”

Kuroo sighs. “I know. It’s annoying as hell.”

“Aww, don’t be like that.” He reaches up to mess with his friend’s hair. Kuroo yelps and swats him away. There’s a brief tussle, both laughing as they try to get the upper hand. Finally, Bokuto uses his superior strength to pin him down into the couch.

Kuroo gulps. The man is hovering above him, one leg secure on the ground and other around one side of Kuroo’s hips. He’s got both of Kuroo’s hands pushed above his head.

Kuroo tries and fails to not stare at the other man’s chest but gods, what a magnificent sight it is. His pecs strain against the thin, white t-shirt, leaving very little to the imagination.

Without thinking, Kuroo reaches up to touch.

It’s Bokuto’s turn to yelp. “Woah!” He laughs nervously. “What are you..?”

“Oh c’mon, you can’t possibly blame me.” Kuroo licks his lips, fingers digging into the soft muscle. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages.”

Bokuto goes silent. For a moment, Kuroo worries that he’s moving too fast. Maybe he should’ve waited to say something so frank.

But then he looks up.

Bokuto is grinning from ear to ear. His eyes are so full of joy and fondness that Kuroo feels the breath catch in his throat. “You like me that much, Tetsuro?”

The use of his given name once again catches Kuroo off guard. “Y-yeah,” he stammers.

“Cool,” Bokuto breaths, leaning in even closer. “You can touch my chest as much as you want! Well, as long as I get to grab your ass. That’s what I’VE been wanting to do forever!” Bokuto’s affectionate expression is too innocent for the words coming out of his mouth. Kuroo chokes.

“Dude! Okay, okay,” he knows he’s blushing like mad. Bokuto is just so unabashed in his feelings, his wants. Perhaps Kuroo will just have to get used to that. 

“So, um, is it official?” Bokuto’s face shifts into slight apprehension. “Do we get to be boyfriends now?”

Kuroo blinks. Then he smiles, reaching up to card his fingers through the other man’s hair. Most of the gel has gone, leaving his locks soft to the touch. Kuroo really, really likes the feeling. 

“Yeah,” he says, and Bokuto immediately releases a long, shuddering breath. “We do.”

Bokuto throws one fist into the air in celebration. “Hey hey hey! This smart, sexy guy is my boyfriend now! Take that, universe!” He falls falls forward onto Kuroo, giggling like mad. 

Kuroo gasps at the weight suddenly atop him. But he gladly accepts his fate, letting the other man push him further into the cushions, relishing as the warmth of Bokuto’s body washes over him.

//

This was written for Bokuroo Week 2023 on Twitter! Thanks for reading. I you enjoyed, please comment and reblog! I also have a ko-fi (linked on profile) if you’d like to support me there. 🥰 Cheers!

#bokuroo #bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurou #bokuroo week 2023 #my writing #fanfiction #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfiction #drabble #ficlet

[ironwhoore]

c’mon man that’s not cool. (steve harrington x fem!hopper!reader)

you and steve were walking throughout starcourt mall hand in hand,

"so you and steve have been going out for a month and your dad hasn't figured it out?" robin asks, she knows your dad is no idiot so she's surprised he's completely oblivious to such a thing.

"i have a feeling he knows, he's been acting weird whenever i have him over."

"you never have just me over." steve huffs,

"awww is stevie gonna be okay?" you tease, grabbing both sides of his face with one hand and squishing his cheeks.

eddie and robin snort while steve rolls his eyes grabbing your hand off his face,

"would we get killed if we went to your house?" steve switches topics.

"i mean, all four of us should just walk in together, i think your dad would rather have all of us over than just steve," robin suggests,

"i mean that's not a bad idea." y/n shrugs,

~~~

surprisingly, hopper let all of y/n’s friends stay but steve and eddie had to leave by 9.

"so you have hatred towards your little sister's boyfriend?" robin asks, furrowing her brows.

"i don't hate anyone-"

"besides jason carver and billy hargrove," eddie cuts in,

"besides jason carver and billy hargrove." y/n agrees, "but mike is totally only telling el these things to fuck with me! i’m telling you, steve."

"okay, but do you actually think el would snitch on you, babe? if i had a secret i'm putting my bets on the person with fucking superpowers to keep it,"

"what does her having superpowers have to do with anything?" eddie questions.

"y'know," steve does el's hand thing, and starts shaking his hand and grunting.

"what the hell are you doing?" a voice asks beside steve, it was hopper. beer in hand, staring at the group of teens at the dining room table,

"it's not obvious?” steve gawks,

"it looks like your hand is cramping." another voice says, it was el. she walks out of her room and frowns,

"it's your hand thing!"

"OH!" y/n exclaims, "she does it way better dude."

"i do it better than both of them actually." eddie states, this results in the next 15 minutes being steve and eddie seeing who can replicate el's pose better.

"i think i do it better because my hand doesn't look like it's having a muscle spasm. are you like 80 years old? why do your hands shake so much?" eddie and steve are arguing,

"i think we should take a vote," robin cuts in after the two boys were arguing about who won the ‘contest’.

"left hand for eddie," robin says in a british accent,

robin and el raise their left hands.

"right hand for sir harrington,"

hopper and y/n raise their right hands,

"anything but me right hop?" eddie asks,

"anything, but you." he eyes y/n and eddie suspiciously, y/n doesn't notice and gets something out of her bag,

"el I got your candy by the way,"

"but i didn't even have to cover for-"

"it's fine!" y/n says quickly and nervously, throwing the bag of sour patch kids to el, who catches it confused. hopper raises a brow, but steve notices this and quickly changes the topic,

"what were you saying about mike, y/n?"

el pulls a surprised face and gives her sister a look to carry on,

"all I'm saying is that mike comes over way too much and is practically corrupting el." y/n says quickly, hopper adopts an i-totally-think-the-same-thing-look and a smug smile,

"i happen to think the same thing."

"no dad you want to banish mike, i think el should be able to go to mike's sometimes and hang out instead of having just having him over. el should be given a bit more freedom, i could take them out when I'm going out, i mean everyone goes to starcourt and nothings gonna happen there, we would totally snitch on them."

at this el looks at hopper with a very hopeful look,

"you will not be going over to mike's, but i do trust your sister enough to take you two out. but you have to be at least within eyesight of her."

el smiles the biggest smile hopper or y/n have ever seen,

"okay!" el hurries towards the phone to call mike,

"and you," hopper points at y/n and eddie, "do you two really think i'm stupid?"

"um what?" y/n questions, taking a sip of her coke,

"you and eddie. you're dating."

y/n spits out her coke,

"WHAT?"

eddie bursts out in laughter,

"WE ARE NOT DATING DAD!"

steve looked very unimpressed in his chair by an amused robin,

"she's dating someone but not me." eddie chuckles, who quickly realizes what he said and pulls a oopsies look,

"DUDE!" steve and y/n say in unison,

hopper goes wide eyed,

"you're not dating eddie?"

"no!" she exclaims, her face was probably the reddest it's ever been.

"oh thank god." hopper breathes out, wiping his hand down his face,

"you won't even try to hide it huh chief?" eddie says, which hop responds with a fake thin lipped smile and a shake of his head,

eddie shoots a quick glance at steve who mouths 'dude stop fucking looking at me'

"it's steve?"

"no! dad it's no one i am not dating anybody!" y/n defends quickly,

"that's not what eddie said a minute ago,"

"y/n you're fucked just tell him." robin urges,

"language."

"sorry chief."

"steve." she mumbles quietly,

"what?"

“it’s uh, it’s me sir.” steve speaks up,

hopper has the audacity to smile even though the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife,

"harrington? she actually gave you a chance?"

"dad!"

"sorry it's funny to me because the year before last," he starts, "you hated him!"

"you're not mad?"

“anything but eddie."

eddie's smile drops,

"c'mon man that's not cool."

~~~~~~~

this takes place in season three to clear up any confusion! this has been in my drafts since june 6th so i thought i’d get it out!!

#eddie munson #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x hopper!reader #robin buckley #stranger things #jim hopper

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jack, Deuce: Reason for Strength

Every time Jack talks about Magical Shift, I think about how he used to watch Leona play on the TV 😂 which… I DON’T KNOW, I THINK IT’S KINDA CUTE HOW HE LOOKS UP TO LEONA LIKE THAT

L*ona as a respectable upperclassman that his juniors admire 🤡 This is literally Epel’s Union Birthday interview all over again... OTL

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future

“What do you do on your days off?“

“I train.” Jack said it as though it were the most obvious, most simple answer in the entire world. (And, if the massive size of his muscles said anything about it, Deuce didn’t doubt him.) “I keep a notebook, research different protein bars... that kind of thing.”

“That makes sense! It’s just like Coach Vargas says, if you want to get gains, you’ve got to commit yourself to constant training.” Deuce paused. “Oh, and apparently drink lots of raw eggs.”

“They’re a good source of protein,” Jack agreed, “but you can get a more varied diet if you mix in protein powders with your regular meals.” He took a look at Deuce’s arms, then added, “I can recommend some to you. Track and Field Club member to Track and Field Club member.”

“I’d appreciate it!” Deuce smiled gratefully. “Come to think of it, why are you in Track and Field instead of Magift?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I always figured since you look up to Kingscholar-senpai so much--”

“I-I do NOT!!” Jack cried indignantly (though his cheeks darkened bashfully and his ears flattened in a telltale way).

“--that you’d go for the same extracurricular he’s in. You mentioned before that you’re really into Defensive Magic too. Playing Magift would give you a chance to practice that, and using it with other types of magic. It seems like a perfect fit for you.”

“It’s a team sport,” Jack grunted. “Not my thing. I’m better off doing things myself.”

“Oh.”

The birthday boy turned away, as if closing the conversation like a book, its story told time and time again. The frown on his face was like a worn cover or folded pages, creased with lines and frayed at the edges. 

Deuce regarded him with a pensive look. “… Hey, Jack. I’ve been wondering this for a while now, but… Why do you want to become so strong?”

“Why?”

“Yeah. I mean, there’s gotta be a reason for it, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be working so hard. Um! Like how I’m aiming to be an honors student to make my mom proud. I want to know what drives you!”

Jack’s fur bristled. His eyes darted away. “Wanting to be strong is its own reward,” he said gruffly. “What I have right now isn’t enough.”

“Dude, you’re already the buffest guy I know!!”

“It’s still not enough,” Jack repeated, clenching his hands into fists. (Deuce nervously eyed the beastman’s broomstick, afraid that he would snap it cleanly in half from the way the wood strained against his grip.)

“How can it not be enough?”

Jack faced his friend. A new haunted urgency shone in his fierce stare. “Because even someone as strong as Leona-senpai can have moments of weakness. Times when they turn on others and give in to their darkest impulses.”

Deuce gulped. An unspoken word formed a creeping chill along his skin.

Overblot.

They had both been there that day in the coliseum. They had both witnessed Leona’s dissent into madness, how his face twisted and writhed with pain as black ink consumed him.

The earth-shattering roar he had let out then, whipping sands making their eyes tear, pushing them farther and farther away... Their voices not reaching him.

“Strength will never be enough. That’s why I need to dedicate myself to training--not just my muscles, but my mind and spirit too. So when that day comes where I’m challenged, I’ll be ready for it.” Jack nodded solemnly. “I won’t give in.”

I will protect the ones I love with all my strength. That is the reason I train.

“Wow...” Deuce gaped, his jaw slack. “… I don’t get it!! But whatever you said just now sounded really cool and inspirational!

“Uh...” Jack felt for the back of his neck. “Thanks?”

Deuce gave a grin and playfully punched the birthday boy on the arm. His fist bounced off harmlessly. “You’re strong and smart. Whatever you do with your power... I know you’ll do good with it.”

Jack smiled back awkwardly. “You too. Well, you’re not too bright, but you’re strong for your family and friends.”

That makes two of us.

Deuce flinched. “I’m working on the bright part!!’

“I know.” Jack tilted his head, the brim of his wizard’s cap casting a shadow over his broadening smile. “... Good luck with your training.”

“To both of us!” Deuce corrected him.

“To both of us.”

Jack shielded his eyes, lifting his gaze to the clear autumn skies--and the blazing sun that scorched it. There seemed to be no end to its brilliant blue hue. He could get lost in it forever.

Jack cut to his classmate.

“You and me,” Deuce said, a wicked glint now set in his serious face. “We’ll see who can meet their goal first.”

“It’s a race, then.” Jack swept onto his broom and mounted it with a smirk. The flowers in place of the bristles shimmered with a golden halo of light. “You’re on.”

The boys spoke in unison.

“I’ll see you at the finish line.”

Jack took off like a rocket, his tail streaking behind him like a flag. Sunshine colored petals rained down.

Cupping his hands together, Deuce shouted something after Jack. His laughter caught on a blast of crisp wind and warm leaves, echoing after the birthday boy like a trail of indescribable magic.

Jack laughed back, raising a balled hand into the air.

Triumph and a promise in his grasp.

#Jack Howl #Deuce Spade #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #Jack birthday takeover #notes from the writing raven #something no one asked for

[sugarrspice]

You KNOW I gotta go for "summoning gone wrong" with Antiaverage! How could I not? :)c -A

Pfft, what a wonderful way to start off the Halloween bash!

The first thing that Anti hears is, somewhat fittingly, oh hell. His balance is still off, his senses compressed down to a fine point of white noise, but even from here, he can smell fear thick as blood, as the rot that's made itself at home in his bones.

That'd be the little sheep's second mistake.

Without ever opening his eyes, he reaches, rooting himself in the rabbit-quick heartbeat that echoes around them. Flickering sparks of warm umber and gold play around the edges of the blackness of his vision, and for a moment, just a moment, Anti is trapped in the cooling warmth of a dying body, Jackwenttumblingdown, before he rips himself free with a snarl, wheeling to find the fool that thought they could bind him.

They're in... a lot. A chain of abandoned storefronts stretches out to either side of them; he can hear the thunder of cars tearing down a highway beyond their sight. Across the strip of concrete, a man crouches, blue eyes wide with terror; he's white-knuckling onto a mirror, and Anti briefly traces the straining tendons under his skin, considers how slowly he wants to choke him with them. Chase, the fall coolth whispers in his ears, and oh, poor fool, hadn't even bothered to hide his name. Soot stains the ends of his fingers, and the cloying smell of honey and belladonna reaches him, next, and Anti allows this knowledge to pull his lips into a smile, brilliant and cruel.

There's no circle to restrain his movement. He lazily steps forward, watches with glee as the man scrambles to his feet to put an equal distance between them.

Maybe he will have some fun, first. Jack had been no fun, had never been afraid, only had gripped his face with a cool and clinical hand, had trapped his fingers between his own to search for a pulse while Anti had rattled at the edges of the snare he'd unwittingly set.

"Congratulations," he can't help but needle, and prowls forward another step. The night has frozen around them, and the man with it; he's close enough he can make out the whites of his eyes, luminous in the chilly dark. Another step forward and he'll be able to trace their pulsing veins, watch them pop pop pop under his careful attentions, watch the blood spill like an inkstain through his sclera. "You wanted me. You got me. Do you know what you're going to do with me?"

He's no silvertongue, no orator. Anti is everything that shouldn't be; the squirming wrongness of blood seeping through their fingers, the glistening of wet muscle and the heavy, all-knowing weight of the dark. He is certainly not meant for their little world, fragile in its balance, nor for the soft hearts of men whose tongues stutter in his mere appearance. Words are meaningless; he speaks with his hands, deft with his pretty little blade. When he speaks, he tears the night from its frozen vigil, and Chase starts again, but remains rooted. Cowardice-- or bravery-- they all look the same.

And then the brave, cowardly, stupid little man opens his mouth, and says, "what the fuck do you mean, I wanted you?"

This is so profoundly not what Anti is expecting that he actually stops in his tracks, and he's not quite sure what his expression is doing, but whatever it is, it is unwelcome. He rallies, flicks clawed fingers in a dismissive gesture. Sixty four gleaming teeth glint in the dying moonlight; there's a storm coming, Anti can feel the anticipation winding tighter under his skin, and he pulls the gale in to whip at their hair, sharp ozone stinging their noses.

"Second thoughts? Vengeance is usually uglier than what you're willing to cavort with."

Chase stares some more, and now, rather than afraid, he just looks confused. Irritated, maybe, though his heart is clocking a cool one hundred and eight beats a minute.

"Vengeance is us- dude! Dude, no! I'm not- look, I'm not here to curse someone, or kill them, I just needed to talk to somebody!"

Anti stares blankly. He stares back, brow pinched; fear still tangles his words up into knots, but he's not running, not blustering for his life.

Anti should kill him for his presumption.

He wants to know more.

Chase must misinterpret his silence, and waves the hand not gripping onto his mirror, scowling. "Not you for the record, before you get all smart and spooky on me."

"Smart and spooky," Anti echoes, flatly, and digs one clawed finger into his own palm to be sure he's not fucking hallucinating. He wouldn't put it past Desmarais, the clever little sadist.

In the midst of his reality check, Chase looks at the mirror. Looks back at him, and takes a deep breath, fiddling with the filigreed edge. "Look. I don't know what you mean, called you. I'm just looking to talk to someone. If you know how to--"

This, at least, is ground that Anti is familiar with. He rolls his neck, and slips sideways into the night air, reaching for Chase's warmth, slinging himself out of the etherspace to wrap an arm around Chase's hips with a leer.

"If I know how to," he mocks, and nestles his chin right on Chase's shoulders. A parody of a loving embrace, it puts his teeth right besides Chase's neck, and they both know it. "Maybe I do, who's to say?"

What are you willing to pay, they both hear, and Chase takes in one deep, steeling breath.

Then he tips his neck sideways, baring the full pale stretch to Anti, and Anti raises both eyebrows at the offer made. A life for a life is more binding a contract than even Desmarais will bother with.

No, he's curious, now.

"Cute," he muses, aloud, and folds himself neatly into Chase's shadow, shakes himself out of the slender shadows across the shingled roof above Chase. He slings one leg over another, the very image of ease. "Well, Chase. Don't keep a man waiting; erstwhile lover? Child, parent?"

Chase meets his eyes, mouth pressed into a firm line, and says, quietly, "friend."

Anti revises, yet again, his initial impression, from idiocy, to intrigue, back firmly into the realm of foolishness.

A life is a life, he tells himself, yet again, and he leans forward, and says, "tell me more." A life is a life, and he stays.

#spice writes #egoshipping #ego shipping #antiaverage #anti x chase #I will not lie: this ended up spawning... an entire fic idea that I may or may not end up returning to. #All that I'll say on that front: a heart for a heart.

[paralyze-fic]

Paralyze.

Chapter 48

The secret door opened, and I could hear rapid footsteps while Sir walked away from it, nobody seemed to hear them, so I got my quirk ready.

Yep, three villains came out, yelling at our faces.

I stopped both arms and legs of one, while Centipider caught another, and when I was done with the muscles, I made him pass out. I saw Aizawa erasing their quirks, but the one I got was already out, and I felt his eyes on me.

"That was a quick reaction," I grinned and showed him a thumbs up.

Before we went in, Sir turned to me.

"Paralyze," my eyes stared into his, "Go in and look for Eri, you're the fastest one here right now." My fists and jaw tightened with sheer determination, and I nodded with a 'Yes, Sir.'

I enhanced my legs and took a deep breath, breaking into a run. In the middle of my way there, I heard a voice exclaiming a 'Huh?!' But I just ran faster.

Unfortunately, soon I was stopped by a wall. I was sure I went the right way, so why...

Chisaki's quirk, of course.

But for now, with gritted teeth and rage filling my body, I ran back with the rest.

"Sir," he stared at me, "I was going the right way, but it seems Chisaki added a wall on our way, I'm not sure if he changed something else though," he nodded but didn't say anything, and I stored the effect of my quirk that I got still left for later.

We walked the same way I did and there was the wall blocking us, "Togata senpai..." he looked at me, and smiled, nodding once.

"I know," he walked ahead of us, "I'm gonna check."

After he said that, Izuku was going to say something about his clothes, but Amajiki senpai explained to him how Togata's costume was made of out fibres of his hair. Impressive.

He went through it, and like five seconds later, he came back.

"The wall is just blocking the way, but is a really thick wall."

The hero with dark skin, Lockrock, said the same thing I thought before. This is Chisaki's doing.

The next thing I knew was that I saw Izuku glowing with green sparks and Eijiro hardening his arm, running to the wall in our way, breaking it down.

It seemed almost too easy. As if they didn't actually put any effort into stopping us.

But then suddenly the halls were twisting, and the same voice I heard before was now laughing.

I was looking around, trying to find the quirk's user so I could stop him, and Aizawa was doing the same thing to erase his quirk.

"It doesn't matter how he manipulates the way, trying to stop us from getting our objective... I can still make it!" Togata senpai's voice made me turn to stare at him right as he was phasing through the wall.

"Lemillion!"

"Senpai!"

Sir and Izuku called for him in unison.

"Mirio...!" It seemed like Amajiki senpai wanted to say something else, but the floor opened and we were soon falling through it.

"Oi, oi, oi, oi... look who we have falling from the sky... what an interesting development..." Between coughs and groans I got up, helping Amajiki up too since I fell by his side, looking up and seeing how the ceiling was closing again.

But staring ahead at the voice, I saw three villains. One had a bird's peak mask like Chisaki's, the bald dude had a white mask and the last one had a scarecrow-like mask over his head.

I heard Fatgum behind us, "It seems like they're ready to fight. It's time to show them the strength of a pro..." but then senpai extended his left arm forward, stopping Fatgum and gently pushing me backwards.

"Leave that strength for the objective. If they just want to make time... I'll take care of them!"

Senpai, you're so cool!

I swear I almost had stars in my eyes while staring at my senpai.

The blond was saying something, and the police yelled about his quirk. As he was about to attack, I turned to look at him to stop him, but Eraser had already erased his quirk. I heard more yelling from the same police officer, but in a flash, Amajiki was inside an oyster, and his hands turned into tentacles, grabbing the three of them and their weapons. Staring at them closely I remembered their names.

"Setsuno Toya, 'Steal'. Hojo Yu, 'Crystallization'. Tabe Soramitsu, 'Food'." Amajiki called them out as I thought of their names, "I'll be your opponent. I ate takoyaki in Fat's office until I was full, meaning my squid abilities levels are at their maximum... and I'm extremely careful with weapons like these, now that I've been shot once."

His hand wrapping their guns morphed into a lobster's claw and cut them in half.

"We can't waste our time with these guys. If the pros stay here, we'll be doing what they want," I heard Setsuno laughing.

"Hehehe..."

What a weird laugh.

"But, senpai..." I started saying to him, staring at him a bit worried.

I didn't doubt his abilities at all. If he's like Togata senpai, then he is strong, he being part of the big three should be enough proof of that, but just... I want to help him.

"We have to save the quirks like Eraser's and Paralyze's! We have to save them to be able to keep moving forward!" For a second I was surprised.

Save my quirk...? The only thing I do is hold everyone back.

"You'll also need the power to go through this underground maze! And the police with their guns! Fatgum! I can take these three out on my own!" I stared at senpai's back as he spoke and I thought once again; Senpai... you're so cool.

Everyone started running out and Aizawa stayed to erase the trio's quirks, and I made Tabe pass out as I was about to follow him out of the room.

"Paralyze!" I turned to look at Amajiki, but he wasn't looking at me and for a moment my eyes shifted to the three villains, Setsuno was moving a bit so I activated my quirk and stopped his muscles.

He groaned in pain and I smirked, this was the first time I was happy about my quirk hurting.

"Yes, senpai?" I asked when he kept silent.

"Take care of Mirio for me! He... definitely will do something reckless, so make sure to help him!" A smile made its way on my face hearing his worried voice.

Amajiki senpai really cares about Togata senpai. That's cute.

"I will," I stood outside the room, doubting what my next words should be, "Good luck, senpai! Don't lose!"

We ran down the halls, and I was looking around, noticing how the walls weren't moving at all. That's... Not a good sign.

"Let's go up," Sir said and I saw stairs ahead. I could hear Aizawa saying something, I was pretty far behind, so I couldn't clearly hear what he said.

My eyes just kept shifting everywhere, feeling like something was going to come out at any second, and I saw it.

The wall on our left was barely moving, twisting like a tornado, and Lockrock and Aizawa were the ones closest to it.

"Eraser!" I yelled and the wall shot towards him, I ran faster to push him out of away, but I saw Fatgum jumping in front of him, going through the wall on the right side, where a hole had formed.

I went to Aizawa and knelt next to him, "Are you okay?" He groaned and got up with my help.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I looked around, checking if everyone else was alright. When I noticed...

"Where's Red Riot?"

#paralyze fic #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bakugou x male #bakugou x male reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader

[sexybabystevie]

Okay but I have genuine ThoughtsTM about firefighter Steve tho!! Cause uh yes??? Tying the suit around his waist, the muscles he’d have, even all covered in sweat and soot, doing the “sexy” calendar!! Dude he’d be over the charts hot!! Then! Then! Christmas time, when the firetrucks go around with santa for the kids! He’d so be the volunteer to dress up and get to joke and coo about the lil kids that tell him what they want and giving out the candy canes!! He could even go the volunteer route so that he could be home more for his kids 😭 I love firefighter Steve

HELLO????? I LOVE THIS.

anon you're SO right. i completely forgot that firefighters existed but i adore this. i absolutely do think that volunteer would probably be more his style, as you said he wants to get home to his babies whenever he can, and i have WAY more to add onto this from the things that my local vfd does!!

he would totally dress up for little events - he's got a little christmas outfit, maybe as santa but if not then he's totally got another really cool one planned. i'm thinking that his beloved - ahem, you - are also really involved too because you're so proud of him, so you always wear matching little costumes. sometimes you're elves, dressed as matching reindeer - dare i suggest rudolph and clarice? - and even santa and mrs. clause when you're a little older and can pull it off. and don't even get me started on when you start your little family together - kids and pets come with you and you're all in a little matching get-up.

the same thing happens on halloween too! you dress up together, especially early on in your relationship, and spend half the night handing out candy at the fire station earlier (in my hometown they always start early and then everyone continues on to individual house trick-or-treating afterwards) and then the other half driving and walking the kids to various houses to trick or treat at. not much changes once you're older and have kids of your own, except now some of the younger teens stick around to help try and take care of/keep an eye on yours while you all walk together.

(also this is a totally random comment. but you've got me thinking and i must say. when he comes home after a call from putting out a small house fire - everything went amazingly but he's still exhausted from all the work he had to do - absolutely DO NOT think about him coming home in his uniform and taking off his helmet, complaining about how it ruins his hair. he's a little sweaty and some strands stick to his forehead, and after he takes the helmet off he just runs his hands through it in a half-hearted attempt to fix it and then he gives you a little side smirk AND- ahem. yeah, totally do not think about that.)

#steve thoughts tm #em speaks #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #asks #dear anons