#i had such a party writing this

[starseeeed]

precipice

kitty cat says meow!

wrote something on a03, and i'm postin her here cuz i like the duality (cue sunglasses emoji)

synopsis: levi is ur roomie and ur horny. boom. no character description, purely reader insert. : )

The air outside on a Saturday afternoon is hot and sticky, sun beating down causing a bead of sweat to trickle down your temple. You shut the door with a huff, the same newfound sense of relief as the AC cools your cheeks.

Stomping down the tile hallway, you drop the brown, paper bag onto the kitchen island, reaching up to wipe your brow in one fluid motion.

A sigh leaves you. Not only because of the humidity and pure heat in August, but because of the unshakeable twitch in your gut that simply won’t fade.

All of your laundry is washed, folded, and put away. Dishes scrubbed and dried to perfection. Room vacuumed, sheets anew. You even dusted your blinds. And finally, three painstakingly boring orgasms later did you go get groceries. In your prettiest, sage green sundress. Music blasting from your car to your wireless headphones, twirling about in Trader Joes as you pick up both you and your roommate’s favorite snacks, eyelids twinkling with glitter.

And yet that throbbing tick in your gut won’t leave.

You might as well be a bear, with all of the itch but no good tree in sight to scratch it.

Dating apps are boring, all of your hookups’ phone numbers in the garbage (even the good ones, too). Your vibrator’s highest setting can’t settle you.

The contemplation of taking a risk for a potentially good fuck on Bumble, or Tinder, maybe even Hinge plays on your mind. But the boys are so boring. So abrupt. Annoying. There is nothing to them that relieves that itch in the slightest through the screen of your phone.

And you don’t plan on taking an risks anytime soon.

So your favorite juice, favorite frozen meal (yes, the TJ’s version of Bagel Bites) and a pint of banana pudding ice cream with chocolate sauce on the side to drizzle onto each layer while you watch Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift is your only option left.

The dress stays on. If you’re going to be sexually frustrated while eating and watching the most unrelated sequel, you might as well look like a fairy while doing it.

One can of sparkling seltzer, an opened and displayed plate of off brand Bagel Bites, and one spoon, banana pudding ice cream, and chocolate sauce on the side later, and you’re curled up on the couch. Lights dimmed, curtains closed from the sunset, and blanket wrapped tightly around you, the screen plays. It’s bright in your face, loud and bouncing from the surround sound system as you shove the first circle of cheese and sauce into your mouth.

“Don’t get any crumbs on the couch.”

Your neck twists towards the kitchen, one of your cheeks full of yet to be chewed baby pizza, eyes wide.

Levi’s face twists at the sight.

“Hey hey.”

His lip curls ever so slightly as you greet him through your mouth full of whatever the fuck you’re eating. You cheese at him sheepishly after you swallow.

Levi, your roommate, takes a cautionary step forward, looking at your setup.

Levi, your roommate.

Technically, you’re his roommate. It’s his apartment, you simply signed the lease agreement and funnel expenses his way so long you have a play to eat, shit, sleep, and lounge about in.

The two of you don’t chat much, albeit for simple small talk, confused, disgusted glances shot back and forth (as in he makes weird faces when you do you things), or on the rare occasion, sit and watch a few movies on the weekends.

Based on the way he’s in those pair of sweats, that black t-shirt, and sits on the other end of the sectional, tonight is one of those rare nights. And you might not be so mad about it if it wasn’t for the way the fringe of his hair falls just above his brow, how his undercut is newly faded, or how the tight, dark fabric clings to his chest- not soothing your escapism attempt in the slightest.

He looks you up and down, eyes hard and focused. You pretend it’s because you look pretty and not because you know he sees the small speck of processed pizza dough on his charcoal grey couch.

Even though you know the truth, a shiver kisses your spine nonetheless. You welcome it, praying it’ll soothe that ache in your gut, between your legs.

It doesn’t.

“Again?” He asks, motioning to the movie playing upon the screen. A shrug is thrown his way, chewing another baby pizza angrily and swallowing it with fervor. His voice is so gruff, but so soft and smooth. The way it makes your thighs clench has you wanting to wring his throat.

You hum, taking a sip of the seltzer that has way too much bubble in it.

“Unless you want to watch a cringe compilation?”

His silence says it all. No.

Sinking into a comfortable silence, Levi watches the movie with that same, bored complexion while you gobble the rest of your rip off Bagel Bites and gulp your little seltzer. Left is the banana pudding ice cream, you always save the best for last.

You uncap it, drizzling a copious amount of chocolate sauce on top before taking a spoonful and shoving that into your mouth, too. Mouthful after mouthful, you fail to notice the furrow in your brows, the redness in the apples of your cheeks as you go through the layers of chocolate sauce and creamy, banana goodness. Not until you hear a scoff of a laugh from the end of the couch.

Shooting Levi a gaze, you mumble a little what through another spoonful of ice cream.

He shrugs in that nonchalant way, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

“Are you stressed, or just starving?”

A purse of your lips in contemplation, a sigh later, you nod. “A little stressed.” You say with a tiny shrug of indignation.

At the admission, he turns himself to you. And internally, you groan at the sight of the skin-tight material dangling the tightness of his abdomen at you, like a fish with a worm gorily stabbed and wrung onto a hook.

He’s waiting, he knows you. Well, not a lot, but Levi is a scarily perceptive person. Like that time you were crying in the kitchen and all his did was look at you, the phone in your hand, and wearing that pretty little dress before asking who exactly just canceled on you. Or that time when you mentioned your favorite color and he stoically described what type of person enjoys that color to a T.

“It’s nothing, really.” It’s not nothing. He knows that. You of all people inside of your body (hopefully it’s just one person) know that it’s nothing.

Levi hums in anticipation.

It sounds like silk. And you about reel your head back and slam it into the couch cushion because of the way it has your core kissing the nerves aligning and swirling between your legs.

Usually, you can ignore these little bites of attraction you feel for Levi. Or go cum to it and feel embarrassed enough to not look him in the face for the next couple of days.

But right now, your cheeks are heated and your toes are curling in your purple cow socks because of the way his gaze is pointed towards you, those little noises fluttering passed his lips.

The bass of the music masks your heartbeat and sharp intake of breath as he leans forward, angling himself towards you more. He’s five or so feet apart, but his stare rests on the prickles of your neck, as if he was blazing a trail of imaginary kisses there himself.

“Well.” Levi’s gaze follows the way your dart your own around the living room, causing you to let out a hot breath of air.

“You know when like,” your lips purse as you tiptoe, “you do something and it still doesn’t fix the problem?”

The bass booms, and Levi reaches towards the remote to mute it.

How can someone’s face be so bored yet so intense and aligned at the same time? His eyes are slanted, lips flat into a natural frown, and yet he is turned and tuned into you fully. It has a crackle of fire lighting in your stomach, and you physically shuffle to accommodate the feeling.

“Mhm.” He eggs, waiting. Levi is natural with power, morphing and holding such a thing on the tip of his finger. He sucks you in, wanting you to lean forward and just simply beg. Just beg.

You let out a shaky sigh, shooting him a glare you can hardly muster. Can’t he just figure it out? Why do you have to speak under his stare like that?

“Like,” you huff, frowning, “you try all the things to extinguish something but it’s still there?”

His brows furrow as he tries to decode your words, and you relish the way his lips dip and the small wrinkle on his forehead comes into light.

“Okay?” Levi says expectantly. He wants you to spell it out, to spit it out. It annoys you, but continues to ignite the electricity cackling in your core all the same.

With a little groan, you give him a look. His expression doesn’t change, letting the silence fall over the two of you.

The cars on the highway outside your apartment complex beep, honk, and skirt, the fridge hums and the AC blows into the living room. But the goosebumps aren’t from the cold air.

It wouldn’t be so hard to rant about it if it simply weren’t Levi. It would be like talking about your problem to the problem.

You say it anyway.

“It’s just been a minute.” Your voice is so soft it might as well have come from a mouse, the crumbs of cheese and bread on your plate much more interesting than the grey of Levi’s eyes had been just moments ago.

When you look up, you get to see his face change for the second time tonight (it’s a record, you think). His eyebrows are raised in the slightest, eyes widening a fraction as he puts two and two together.

Then he snorts, and your mouth gapes in mortification at the sound.

“You’re binging ice cream because you’re horny?”

After the bubble has been popped, you outwardly groan, letting the back of your head fall into the cushion of the couch.

“It sounds dumb when you say it like that.”

His scoff is his language for saying Well? It is dumb.

You wave your hand in dismissal, praying the warmness in your face and neck chill soon.

“Fuck off and unmute the movie.”

He does, and silence falls over the two of you once more.

Levi stands, and your stomach sinks.

After he walks away, you crush yourself into the couch as you let the rounds of gunfire on the speaker pummel into your brain in hopes that your humiliation will dissipate. Maybe he thinks you’re stupid and superficial now, all strung up on sex and orgasms and ice cream and-

Oh, fuck.

The seat of the couch dips, and your head boops against Levi’s godly sculpted shoulder.

Your head sharp shoots to him, but he’s staring at the screen as if his hips weren’t mushing next to yours.

Levi hates this movie. But his eyes are twinkling as he gazes forward, raising his arm and placing it atop the cushion behind your head. It tingles as the pads of his fingers barely brush across the top of your head.

The air is thick, confusion plastered to your face as your gaze settles upon the screen in synch with him.

You can’t breathe when you feel the matter in space dip, his facing leaning close to yours as he tilts himself to whisper into your ear.

By god, whoever created you, it’s been a year and a half living with this enigma and now you get to hear him whisper?

“Do you want some help?”

Want? Some?

You need to take whatever- all he gives you with a smile, a nod, and his dick down your throat in thanks.

The little nod isn’t enough for Levi, no.

“Hm?” It’s patronizing, the way he hums to you. He has to know you want it. That you’ve wanted it.

“Yes, please.” You preen, finding the strength to stare up at him with slanted, pleading eyes. They glimmer like stars in the bleak living room, you like to think. A perfect match for that pliant, barely visible pout on your face.

Levi nods once, satiated.

His other hand grabs ahold of your cheeks, turning your head to face back at the TV screen. He leans back, settling that hand down onto his thigh, letting his other arm resting atop the couch cushion come down and wrap around your shoulder, yanking you closer.

The little squeak doesn’t go unheard as your face mushes against the side of his chest, the fabric of your dress rising up on your thighs as Levi molds your body against his. You shuffle to adjust, resting against him with a newfound, booming heartbeat nestled into your core.

Once you settle, you hear the upturn of his lips as he murmurs, “There we go.”

Your nervous system might as well be singing your gut is clenching so hard from the subtle praise. How is he so calm right now? You guess because he has the upper hand. Part of you is psyched, that internal bet as to whether he was more controlling or pleading to be controlled working in your favor.

Perhaps he’s both. There isn’t an ounce of courage to muster within you to take the lead, though. It’s his game, you’re just a happy player following the rules.

A few heavy beats of your heart later, and his hand is sliding from his thigh to yours. Levi’s fingers toy and twiddle with the fabric of your dress, soft as silk as it weaves between his digits. They feel as though they’re planting kisses to your inner thighs, and you choke a breath with each teasing motion. The thumb that rests on your shoulder brushes against your bare skin, the gentle swipe having you on fire. You must be hot to the touch.

The sounds of heavy engines and ego cock fights resound on the screen, your cheek still mushed against Levi’s chest. You’re still, short circuiting at the revelation that he’s next to you, leaning against you, touching you.

Levi probably has a shit eating expression on his face. Maybe that’s what it takes for him to smile- a girl at his disposal to toy around with as he pleases while she sputters and warms beneath him like a freshly poured potion. You don’t look up at him, too afraid to shiver and soak the couch at the sight of such a face.

“You’re so quiet.” He observes, the pure smugness in his tone as you hitch a whine once his fingers stop toying with the hem of your dress and push his hand under it, searching for the lace lining your cotton panties.

His index finger hooks the outlining fabric at your inner thigh, running through it until he reaches the apex of a prominently damp spot on the crotch of your panties. You can’t contain the mewl that bubbles your throat as his finger taps it not once but twice, teasing the bundle of nerves.

“That’s why,” Levi muses. You want to bottle up the way his voice sounds and keep it on a jewel encrusted pedestal.

Your legs shift, parting in the slightest for him to do as pleases. The sage green material of your dress hikes up further, presenting your delicious inner thighs for Levi to ogle at. And naturally, you shift under his gaze.

Two of his fingers happily press down onto your clothed clit, meandering a slow, deliberate circle around it. And Jesus Christ, Gods above, the way you casually twitched at such an innocent touch has Levi barking a soft laugh.

He does it again, and a third time. Pressing down into the soft, damp fabric and tracing languid circles against your clit. And you mewl each time, on of your legs up and foot resting into the couch as the other one dangles off of the couch for his access.

Levi hums, content as you press yourself further into his chest. He’s practically caging you, reaching across to play with your clit through your panties. It’s all you need.

“You’re wet just like that, hm?”

The daydreaming, absent googly eyes and hearing his voice for the last year and a half was enough foreplay for you, so yeah, you’re going to get wet and cum just like that. By the baritone in his voice, he knows it, too.

“Yeah,” you whimper, moving your hips up to meet his fingers. Levi doesn’t have to play nice, you want to tell him. But when you do that, having the pads of his index and middle finger push further, press harder, against your clit, he knows that, too.

Another hum vibrates your ear that is intently listening to his steady heartbeat, a lullaby combined with his soothing, borderline scarily-accurate precision of touch, and he’s complying, pressing harder into the cotton fabric to give you a more pressured swirl.

You sigh, eyes hazy and dazed as you continue to fixate on the screen while pressure builds in your gut. It’s a scarily quick build, as if this were some sort of wet dream where a man touches you and you come undone just like that.

If you’re being real, Levi is a wet dream disguised as some stoic asshole who makes you get up at 7 in the morning to wipe down a coffee stain from the previous night.

But this isn’t a dream. This is your hot, broody and nonchalant roommate rubbing firm circles into your clit that preens beneath the fabric of your panties. Those panties. A soft cotton white with the cute, pink bow at the top. Levi likes them, you think, by the way he traces the lace hem with his eyes. You still don’t look at him, but his gaze is fixed from the corner of your eye.

It’s tantalizing, focused. You feel like a painting, Levi mixing the colors just right before slathering them onto an open canvas. There’s a feeling in your gut, just as your orgasm ripples through your gut, that this right now is just the base layer of oil paint.

Slightly damp, willing, ready, and made to be messed with and tweaked later.

“There you go,” he murmurs, the softest quirk of his lips showing that he sees your inner thighs twitching in just the slightest.

Your breaths are shaky, whimpers and mewling tumbling out into thin air as Levi brings you to the precipice of release, fingers rubbing gently against your clit to work you through your orgasm.

Pleasure seethes through you, feeling the sweet feeling bubbling and expanding through your nervous system. Your shoulders slump, cheek pressed and mushed against your roommate’s chest as you fall gracefully from your high.

A few moments later, Levi’s fingers pull back, letting them lay back on his clothed thigh.

“Better?” He asks, picking up the remote and turning up the volume. He’d turned it down, you guess. There’s no move to make you get up, so you nestle yourself there, eyes fluttered but mouth agape.

You can only nod. The soft vibration of his chuckle sounds has your cheeks glowing, heating once more.

“Yeah, better.”

#my writing #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi aot #levi is just #levi smut #pls enjoy #i had such a party writing this #this is very my life canon #i do this #i DID this

[becca-e-barnes]

The need that I have for early morning, tender sex with Dbf!bucky that gets a little frantic and really passionate 😵‍💫

Especially if you tend to drift apart in your sleep. It feels so much nicer to curl up against him again the next morning, stealing some of his heat and enjoying the way that he smells so familiar to you now.

You can't help but feel a softness in your chest when he sleepily pulls you closer, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head with his eyes still closed. If nothing else, you feel incredibly safe with your bare chest pressed to his and your limbs tangled together comfortably.

The sunlight has just managed to creep through a gap in between the curtains, illuminating the few grey hairs peppered across your partner's hairline and you swear he's never looked more beautiful.

He's more awake than he'd lead you to believe though. His eyes are barely even open before he's tilting your chin up, making it easier to capture your lips with his.

"Good morning." He mumbles in his deep morning voice when his lips part from yours.

"Hi." You can't help but smile, wiggling your body against the bulge in his underwear. "It's a great morning."

He can't help but roll his eyes at your enthusiasm.

"Didn't I take good enough care of you last night? You still want more." He pretends he's insulted but secretly, he's pretty damn pleased. You want him; plain and simple. You don't dress it up or play it off. Don't we all want to be wanted?

"See, that's the problem. You were too good to me last night. And now. I'm all worked up." You slip kisses to his neck and shoulders in between your sentences, hoping that it really drives your point home.

"You're a handful." Bucky teases, tilting your chin up once more, letting his lips collide with yours before allowing his tongue to do the same. It feels like his hands are all over your body at once, teasing and rubbing and gripping you, getting you even more worked up.

It's not long before he's got your leg hooked up over him and he's slipping his cock into you. The glide is that much easier given that he finished inside you just a few hours ago and the thought of that alone makes you even wetter.

Bucky's low groan as he slides into you is addictive. He's clearly still sensitive but it feels too good for either of you to stop now.

"Such a good girl. You take me so damn well." He's babbling already, eyes rolling back as he presses as deep inside you as possible, giving you a chance to take a breath before he starts to work your body in a way that no one else has ever managed.

#becca's thots #becca writes spice #dbf!bucky #dad's best friend Bucky #This is the silly one scratching an itch in my brain rn #I am a real morning person #I hardly make it past midnight these days #I've also had a lot of thoughts about the filthy things that could be done while one party takes a work call 😏 #Might have to write that

[afewproblems]

Eddie downs the last of his beer and tosses the empty red cup into the kitchen sink, right between a couple who were clearly gearing up to claim one of the spare rooms upstairs. 

Eddie snickers and winks as the girl tells him to fuck off while her boyfriend flips him the bird, god he loves highschool parties, and this one is no exception.

It's Halloween and business is booming for Eddie Munson.

He imagines Dian Fossey felt similarly, wandering through the Congo studying the great apes' behavior patterns and social structure from within rather than observing from afar. 

So far Eddie's observations have paid off in spades and he's managed to sell out most of his stash by targeting the basketball team and their girlfriends. No one wants to get high all by themselves after all, it's almost too easy the way these sheep all flock together. 

Eddie leaves the kitchen behind him, but not before snagging a can of something cold from a nearby cooler of half melted ice. With a decent buzz going, what's one more? He's done working for the night after all. 

Eddie climbs the stairs, dodging drunk teens left and right as they make their way past him, shirts ruffled and hair messy. Eddie snorts, ignoring the wistful pull in his chest as a tall boy on the swim team pulls his girlfriend closer to press a chaste kiss to the top of her head before smoothing her curls away from her forehead. 

Unfortunately no one Eddie would be interested in would accept him brushing their hair like that without punching him in the face.

He shakes his head and continues forward, he's an observer, nothing more. 

Eddie passes a closed door on the second floor and pauses as a raised voice splits through the wood.

"It's bullshit, you're bullshit," the voice slurs out and Eddie feels a wide grin pull at the corner of his mouth. 

He takes a step closer, nearly pressing his ear to the flat of the door.

"Like we're in love?" Another voice says softly, a guy, "you don't love me?" 

A small part of Eddie knows he shouldn't be listening to this, he can hear the waiver in this guy's voice like his heart is slowly cracking in his chest. Shit, he almost feels bad for this guy. 

But the people that go to these stupid parties, the Hawkins elite, the gorillas in the mist, deserve their bullshit --to use this girls turn-of-phrase.

The only reason they didn't mess with Eddie was because he was these highschool shit-heads main source of weed. 

Its karma, plain and simple, Eddie reasons as he presses even closer now.

"It's. Bullshit". The girl hisses emphatically and for a second Eddie hears nothing.

It happens so quickly after that. 

The door swings inward, causing Eddie to stumble into a tall firm chest as the bathroom guy collides with him.

"What the fuck?" The guy says as he pushes Eddie away from himself and --no way.

"Harrington?"

Steve blinks once, his wide hazel eyes red rimmed and shiny in the dim light of the hallway, the tip of his nose is pink as he reaches up to pinch it roughly before swiping across his eyes as well.

Even though Eddie's fairly certain that he and Steve are the same height, he seems smaller like this, deflated, standing in the hallway while a party rages down below them both. 

A cheer rings out, startling Steve into action.

He steps widely around Eddie, enough that his shoulder connects with the wall in his haste to take the stairs down, two at a time, as though Hell is hot on his heels. 

And Eddie should leave it, go back to the party, see if there are any snacks left before calling it a night, but something pushes him to follow the path Steve took.

It's like he's possessed, the haunted look in those hazel eyes forcing him forward until he's outside on the lawn.

A few other teens are outside, including a couple making out on the porch, Eddie steps over them and jogs to the end of the driveway.

He spots Steve down the street sitting on a large rock at the end of another neighbor's lawn with his face in his hands.

He looks up as Eddie gets closer and curses softly.

"Seriously? It wasn't enough that you were listening, you're following me now?" His voice cracks on the last word as he wipes his eyes again, he can't quite hide the way the moonlight catches the tear tracks running down his cheek and neck though.  

"Oh come on Harrington," Eddie says, walking up to Steve. He sits on one of the other rocks and takes a crumpled pack of smokes out of his vest pocket, "it's no fun if you're sad".

"What is?" Steve mumbles after a beat, wiping his eyes again as he stares at the ground. 

"Making fun of you," Eddie shrugs as he takes a cigarette and puts it between his lips, he smiles at the startled bark of laughter from Steve.

"You're a prick," he huffs softly, the barest of smiles slowly blooming across his face.

Eddie can count the constellation of freckles and moles across his face, giving the blanket of stars above them a run for their money. His hand twitches at the thought of touching the ones on Steve's throat.

Eddie coughs once, mentally tallying the number of drinks he must have had for those kinds of  thoughts and shifts on the rock to adjust his pants. 

He holds out the pack to Steve who looks at the nearly empty sleeve before his eyes shift to the house behind Eddie. 

"Nance hated cigarettes," Steve murmurs as the corner of his mouth twitches into a terrible frown. It's gone in an instant as Steve blinks once and reaches out for the pack.

"I got something stronger if you want?" Eddie offers, he shrugs when Steve looks up at him with suspicious eyes. 

"Come on Harrington, I'm not gonna keep kicking you when you're down, you need a pick-me-up and then I can get back into it," Eddie stands up and without thinking, holds out a hand towards Steve, "what do you say?"

Steve stares up at him, his eyes flick once to the outstretched hand before he snorts dryly and slowly takes his hand. 

It's warm in Eddie's own. The fingers squeeze gently as Steve uses it to hoist himself up until he's once again eye level with Eddie. 

From this close Eddie can see the way his eyelashes have clumped together with leftover tears and the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes

Oh…this, this was a bad idea. Eddie swallows roughly as Steve finally nods.

"Lead the way Munson," Steve says with the barest of smirks as he wipes his face one last time, "and if you tell anyone about this, I'll slash your tires".

Eddie cackles at that, "there he is!"

He claps Steve on the back as he leads them towards where he parked his van down the road, "our chariot awaits!"

Eddie ignores the small voice that whispers in his ear, the one that sounds remarkably like his uncle, as it asks him just what the hell he thinks he's doing with Harrington of all people? 

It'll be fine, he tells himself.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

Part Two

#stranger things #stranger things season 2 au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and nancy breakup #what would have happended if eddie had been there #let me know if yall want a part two #eddie took one look at this pathetic sad man and said #I will love him and squeeze him #steve cried when nancy called him bullshit you cant tell me otherwise #afewproblems writes #steve x eddie #steddie au #getting back into writing after not being able to for weeks #cw drinking #cw smoking #i will never get tired of the halloween party au

[frokoyami]

coming home after another day of plan making

#shat this out #i dont think dima would actually be that mad at anya for her fuckass brother but she'd definitely say that to try and guilt trip yura #anyway #the way ferry writes siblings is so good like #you can tell they actually had siblings growing up with the way they interact with eachother #no “hey lil sis” “hey big bro” shit they just be balling #pafl #parties are for losers #yura beletsky #anya pafl

[solarmorrigan]

TW: Brief description of a panic attack, mentions of PTSD

-

Post-S3 AU with Steve who, after much badgering (and minor bribery) agrees to drive The Party out to The Good Haunted House outside of town a little before Halloween

He doesn't plan on going in, because after what happened over the summer, having people jumping out at him and screaming while possibly brandishing weapons seems like a bad idea. But then he sees the kids walking off into the dark, swarmed by people who look intentionally threatening, leaving his sight, and he decides "fuck it" and goes in after them

Unfortunately, he was correct, and being in an enclosed, poorly-lit space with occasionally flashing lights where people jump out and scream at him is, indeed, A Bad Idea. Worse, their group gets turned around and Steve gets separated from the kids, and then he's alone, he has no idea where in the house he is, or where the kids are, and he's panicking

It really sets in that he's kinda fucked when he stumbles into the the "haunted hospital" themed room and nearly decks the mad doctor in a bloody face mask and apron that comes out wielding a chainsaw. He catches himself in time, but it still makes Steve feel worse, because it's not this guy's fault that Steve can't handle a jump scare, it's not this guy's fault that Steve shouldn't be here at all, that he's fucked up and he should have known better than to come in, and Steve doesn't want to hurt anyone but he doesn't know how the fuck he's going to get out of there, he really doesn't, and -

Enter haunted house actor Eddie, who is used to being threatened with violence (and has, in fact, been punched once before), but who is less used to people having literal heaving breakdowns in the middle of his room. People get scared, yeah, but this - this is another level. This dude looks like he's about to pass out. He doesn't even really look like he's present; the look in his eyes is uncomfortably distant

So Eddie puts down the chainsaw, pulls off his mask and gloves and approaches Steve slowly. The room is fairly quiet without the revving of the chainsaw, so he manages to get Steve's attention, and asks if he wants Eddie to get him out of there

Steve can only nod

Eddie gets him out the back way, the way customers really aren't supposed to go through, but it's faster, and then they're out in the open air and Steve can almost breathe again. Eddie asks him what he can do, and Steve asks him to talk. To remind Steve of where he is

So Eddie talks; he tells Steve he's somewhere outside of Hawkins at a haunted house, tells Steve what it's like to work there, filling the space with funny stories, and it grounds him. By the time Steve feels like the world isn't caving in on him, he can hear the kids shouting from around the other side of the house, looking for him

He has just enough time to thank Eddie before The Party falls on him and he puts his attitude back on, herding them back towards the car with promises of dinner on the way back "if you can all shut up for five minutes"

In the back of his mind, though, he's wondering if he might just drive back out here on his own tomorrow night. Not to go back in--god, no--but to maybe ask at the front who the mad doctor is. Steve thinks he'd like to thank him for his kindness properly

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve & the party #eddiesteve #I dunno man I wish I had the energy to write this in full but here's a little steddie halloween thought #solar wrote #long post #tw panic attack #sorry for tagging triggers after the fact my brain was all over the place this morning

[wistfulwatcher]

I can't stop thinking about the fact that, even if they don't physically eat her, jackie taylor is the first person the girls cannibalize.

we see it most intensely and most obviously with shauna, who consumes more and more of jackie's life. before the plane even crashes, shauna takes jeff's virginity, which was supposed to be jackie's. she takes jeff, jackie's boyfriend. after the crash, she takes the team's loyalty; more and more of their teammates start confiding in and working with shauna, ostracizing jackie, until the team firmly chooses shauna over jackie, their captain. shauna goes on to marry jackie's boyfriend and have the suburban little life that jackie was supposed to have. hell, shauna even takes rabbits from jackie—jackie "loved them", but we only see rabbits when it's about shauna. they're symbolic of the wilderness and who shauna has become.

but it's not just shauna. the longer they're in the woods, the more the rest of the girls start taking from jackie, consuming bits and pieces of her identity until there's nothing left.

jackie is the leader. she's the team captain, and her role is to lead and keep her team together. we're explicitly introduced to jackie this way. coach martinez points out how the other players on the team are better than her, but what she has is influence. she's specifically chosen to be the one to lead her teammates through difficulty. and at the party, we see her in action. we see her take a fractured team and put them back together! she fixes them, she leads them, she heals them.

but after the crash, jackie isn't a leader. misty is the one calm under pressure, who gets them through the first few hours. taissa steps forward and pushes the team to move from the crash site, the one with the initiative to go look for help on foot. laura lee is the one brave enough to try and fly the plane. akilah stops them from eating poison. nat hunts for them, provides for them. lottie protects and guides them.

she almost finds a foothold with the seance, almost finds the old part of herself that gives pep talks and lightens the mood with distractions. but van can weave stories by the campfire, and mari can lead late night line dances and make booze.

so what's left for jackie? each of the girls cuts and picks at the facets of leadership until there's nothing left of it for her. until she's a worthless captain to a group of girls who have figured out how to break her up and share her between themselves.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets meta #jackie taylor #i've been thinking about this all day i'm in so deep #meta #shauna shipman #i'm so late to this party this has probably been discussed already but i had to write it in case #mine #wordles #~ #1k

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 4

Steve was eternally grateful that he'd finally told Robin about Eddie. Because now, he could torture her with his outfit choices. Robin groaned and covered her eyes as Steve held out more shirts.

"What do you think? Stripes or no stripes?"

"Steeeeeeve", Robin whined.

"You're the one that told me stripes really shows off my chest."

"Is Eddie a tits guy? Or an ass man?"

Steve put the shirts back in the closet. "I don't know. I don't know Robin and the fact that this is a video call date makes it worse."

"Actually....actually it makes it better." Robin uncovered her face and grabbed Steve's shoulders. "You'll be on the phone the whole time!"

"Yes...We've established this", Steve said, not sure where she was going with this.

"I mean, if you're doing a video call, YOU control what Eddie sees."

Steve stared at her face for a long while as she simply emoted using her eyebrows. "Robin, no."

"Robin, yes. Come on. We're going shopping. You're waaay overdue for this. And I need a couple of things myself."

"Things going that well with Chrissy?", Steve asked right before Robin threw his shoes at him.

"What do you think I'm doing while you're on your date?", Robin grinned.

-----------------------

Eddie's excitement just got more and more intense with each day. By Wednesday he was vibrating any time his hands weren't occupied with something. He only hoped it didn't translate to his texts. Cool as a cucumber, that was his motto when it came to Steve. He couldn't come on too strong.

(9:45 am) Thinking about those beefy thighs (9:46 am) god i wanna wrap them around my head

Perfect. Smooth. And not too much.

At least he didn't think so at the time. About an hour later Eddie remembered that Steve was at work and possibly reading that text in a room full of prepubescents. And he knew he was going to reap what he sowed when Steve texted him later.

[12:01 pm] You are the ultimate distraction.

(12:02 pm) sry. i forgot you were at work

[12:03 pm] I don't think you are sorry. In fact, I think you need to be punished.

Eddie needed to get a job in coding because there was no emoji that properly conveyed the intensity of the 'boi-yoi-yoi-yoing' going on in his pants. How grateful he was that he didn't need to talk. Texting would cover any stuttering he was sure to do.

(12:04 pm) punishment? 😏 (12:04 pm) what kind of punishment?

[12:05 pm] See me after class, Mr. Munson.

God, four o'clock couldn't come fast enough. Eddie knew that'd be around the time Steve got home from work. He spent about an hour rolling around in bed before getting up, needing to distract himself. He wasn't due for work today, but he went in anyway to loiter.

"I can tell you're horny and I can tell you're just idling until you get your dick wet. Get lost, some of us have actual work to do", Jeff said.

Eddie let out a dramatic gasp. "Jeffery! Jeffords! Jeffaniel! Jeffanie!"

"Are you just going to sit there, making up full names for me or are you gonna get off your ass?"

"I'll replace all the boards and sweep out the alleys for the next two hours", Eddie said, holding his hands together like he was praying to his friend.

Jeff rubbed his chin as he considered it. "Only if you take this next party I have coming in."

Eddie looked at the group arriving. There had to be at least a dozen. And he just knew they only reserved one lane. They always only reserved one lane.

"You drive a hard bargain Jimothy."

"Not even close", Jeff crossed his arms. "And it's this or whatever ants in your pants you'll do if you're unoccupied."

Curse his friends for knowing him so well. Eddie held up his end of the deal, taking care of the party. Turned out it was a birthday party (happy 14th Ashton). But two hours later, the time had passed and Eddie went back home. He still had an hour to spare (he didn't want to leave Steve waiting), so he spent the rest of the time coming up with some ideas for their date in a few days.

[4:04 pm] Are you home?

(4:05 pm) At home and awaiting orders gorgeous (4:05 pm) Have I been a bad boy Mr. Harrington?

Eddie's phone rang and he picked it up as he crashed onto his bed. He knew Steve could hear it when he laughed on the other end.

"You need to keep a tighter lid on those urges. It was a lucky break that all the kids were focused on their dishes that they didn't see the face I made."

"Truly, my bad Stevie. But I can't help what you do to me."

Steve chuckled. "Not even a little?"

"Not one bit. Okay, maybe a little bit. The truth is, I could've said a lot more, but I was holding back."

"Really now? And what would you have said if you weren't holding back?"

Eddie could hear something that sounded like movement in a bed. Steve was getting comfortable too. He thought about the picture he had saved, of Steve's lower body in those shorts. He had been laying in bed then too. Eddie let his mind wander for a bit. What he'd do if Steve were really in bed beside him...

"Baby if you were here right now, I'd have my hands all over you. You'd think I was an octopus."

"Tell me where you'd touch me first", Steve said.

"Well I'm still thinkin' of those legs of yours. You like massages, Stevie? I could rub you down all day."

Steve imagined Eddie digging his fingers into his muscles. That would really hit the spot, especially after a workout. "Mmm, and then?"

"And then I'd wrap them around my head, like I said. I saw what you were packin' in those shorts, baby. I would love to get my mouth on you."

Eddie heard Steve let out a soft moan and he definitely heard a zipper and some shifting. God, the image of Steve stroking himself... Eddie unzipped his pants too, palming at himself while the other hand kept an ever tightening hold on the phone.

"Eddieee..."

"I wanna hear everything, baby. I'm working so hard sucking you off, I deserve to know how good I'm making you feel."

"So good, uh", Steve let out a small breath at the end.

"Yeah? I haven't even told you how I'd rock your world yet", Eddie grinned.

"I just know...You're so good with your mouth."

"You like the way I lick you up and down? How I kiss that beautiful tip?" Eddie knew he had a dick just as handsome as the rest of him, never mind that he had yet to see Steve's whole face yet. His hand pumped up and down as he envisioned the weight of Steve in his mouth. He thought about getting drunk on that taste.

Eddie groaned and his eyes fluttered close, his mouth moving faster than his brain. "Do you shave Steve?"

"....No...is that a problem?"

"Ohh it's the opposite of a problem babe. I bet you got a thick bush. I'd sink all the way down, bury my nose in it while you're fucking my throat."

Steve let out the most delicious sound as he came and Eddie wasn't too far behind. It was like he was there, hairs coarse and curly rough against his skin while Steve moaned right into his ear.

"Mmm", Steve hummed. "I know you look good now. My cum dripping off your lips."

"I'd swallow it all, sweetness. I wouldn't waste a single drop." He would take all that Steve gave him and then some. He was a greedy man.

"I know you wouldn't. I don't allow anything to go to waste in my classroom. Have you learned your lesson, Mr. Munson?"

"Maaaybeee. I might need another lesson, Mr. Harrington. Say, this Friday, at eight?", Eddie teased.

"I suppose you'll need more help studying. Don't be late, mister."

-----------------------------

For once, Steve didn't linger after work. He made sure the kids cleaned up every last dish before the last period even ended. He even let them go a minute and a half before the bell. When Steve left, he went the back way to avoid most of the other teachers and that pre-weekend conversation. He got home right away and started getting ready. Robin had her own date tonight which meant he had limited time to get her help and last minute input.

When she got home from work, the apartment was a flurry of activity between them.

"Steve, I need the blow dryer!"

"Wait! I'm almost done!"

They both crashed into each other's spaces as they tried using the one bathroom mirror.

"Why can't you use your stupid vanity mirror?", Robin asked.

"That mirror is just for my hair and it's too small."

Robin gave him a side eye. "Is that my eyeliner?"

"Is that my face cream?"

For some reason, Robin insisted on getting dressed in his room, which meant at some points their outfits got switched around and they had to re-dress. The pandemonium finally quieted when Robin left for her date and Steve was at last alone for his. It was at 8:00 sharp that Eddie sent a text.

(8:00 pm) Knock knock 😙

Steve smiled as he started a video call. His heart fluttered at the thought of finally seeing Eddie's full face. So imagine his surprise when he was instead met with a hand that had a face drawn on it. And what could only be Eddie doing a deeper, character voice.

"Hello my love. Are you ready for the romancing tonight? I hope I get lucky, ehehehehe."

To which Steve couldn't help but burst out in laughter. Any nerves he might've had flew away.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm a proper young man. I don't think I could court with someone who was so...handsy."

"I wouldn't lay a finger on you without your permission, lovely. But maybe a few smooches. Muahmuahmuah!" Eddie's hand attacked his phone's camera with kisses and Steve giggled like it was actually touching him.

As his laughing fit subsided, only then did Eddie reveal his face. He took Steve's breath away. He was literally speechless and just stood there staring, which made Eddie start to squirm a little.

"You tryina turn me to stone, Medusa?", Eddie joked.

"Sorry!", Steve apologized when he realized he had been staring. "You just...you look really nice Eddie."

"You don't look too bad yourself, handsome", Eddie smiled.

That was putting it lightly. For the both of them really. Steve felt like he was talking to the perfect man. Eddie felt like Steve had walked right out of his wet dreams.

"So, what did you order?", Steve asked as he sat down at his table. He made sure his phone was angled that it only showed him from the waist up. Robin had the bright idea that since he could control what Eddie saw, he could wear whatever he wanted under the line of sight.

He was currently wearing a blue and white striped polo shirt. And beneath that, some lacy, navy blue panties. Maybe Eddie would find out, maybe he wouldn't. Steve had his phone on the table, propped up against some books.

"I ordered the Munson special. A grilled cheese with potato soup."

"Oh, that's a Munson special, hm?"

"Damn straight. Tomato soup is still a classic, but I'd die for a potato. What'd you get?"

"I have some leftover pasta that I just added some mushrooms too. Nothing too fancy."

"Unless it's one of those truffles", Eddie pointed out.

Steve rolled his eyes as he twirled his fork. "Truffles? On a teacher's salary?"

"Hey, you could be secretly rich."

"Oh if I win the lottery, there will be signs."

"Like 5th graders using authentic truffles", Eddie nodded to himself.

They kept talking throughout their dinner and then took each other to their sinks to wash the dishes together. Eddie talked more about his friends. Some of which he worked with and the band he was in. Steve wasn't super into metal, but he liked it enough to be interested in whatever Eddie did.

When they had talked about their date night and discussed their options, they decided on dinner and a movie. Once the dishes were cleaned, Steve took Eddie over to the living room and he sat down between the coffee table and propped him against another set of books as they both queued up the movie on their ends.

"You know it's been a really long time since I've seen this movie", Steve said. "I think I was literally a kid."

"There was a time when this was literally my religion", Eddie said as Quest for Camelot started to play.

Steve knew Eddie was into Dungeons & Dragons, so him being in love with a fantasy movie made total sense.

"Did you have a crush on Garrett when you were a kid?", Steve asked, later during the movie.

"'Did'? I'd still let him use that staff on me six ways to Sunday!"

Steve laughed and he was coming to realize he laughed with Eddie much more than any of his dates in a long while.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink", Steve said as he got up. He nearly asked Eddie if he wanted something. It really was like he was right there with him. Steve grabbed a soda and then came back, sitting down in his spot again when he saw Eddie's expression.

He was silent, which was rare.

His eyes were bulging out of his head and his hand was over his mouth.

Steve was about to ask what was wrong when Eddie's eyes flicked down and then Steve got it. He had stood up. In full view of his phone. And then turned to go into the kitchen.

Eddie had gotten a first rate view of his panties.

Part 6

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #i fuckin hated it when parties would reserve one lane and then migrate to an empty one next to them #it meant i had to change that board sooner rather than later #changing the boards wasn't too hard #it was drawing the targets #which i couldn't do for shit #and if the target came out wrong you have to replace the board #which meant wasted wood #which was why even when i replaced the board i left it to a co-worker to draw the target #which was why i knew i couldn't work there for longer than a few months #okay tragic work back story over LOL

[shitouttabuck]

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me

buck/eddie | 14.7k | rated t

“Well, we’re doing a fancy dinner and mini golf and karaoke,” Buck says, “and those are kinda date activities anyway, right?” “Right,” Eddie says slowly. “Except it’s Chim’s bachelor party, so we can hardly bring dates along, even if we could find them. That’d be weird.” “Well,” Buck says, “I was thinking… what if we were each other’s dates?” Eddie’s brain bluescreens for a moment. Buck must take his total lack of reaction for disagreement, because he hurriedly says, “Like, a pretend date. That way we could test out our, like you said, moves on each other. And then be totally truthful about whether they worked or not. So we get honest feedback and we don’t have to worry about finding someone to try them out on and we can still make it to Chim’s party. And then give Chris some advice before Sunday. Right? Does that make sense?”

or, chris wants dating advice and it turns out taking your best friend on a pretend date to practice being as romantic as possible is not a good idea in theory or in practice, considering the pesky being-in-unrequited-love of it all

read on ao3

#chimneys bachelor party spec fic babey! with a side of fake dating #for the anon who asked if i’d write a spec fic abt the dirty suits buck & eddie had on while filming ep 100 #911 fic #buddie fic #911 #buddie #i wrote this in an absolute fugue state like when i was proofreading it just now i was like. when the hell did i write that #nina writes #mine

[nomazee]

enough to make me cry

blade is your only roommate, your only friend, and your only way home from this terrible party you found yourself in.

blade x gn reader — 3.3k — college & roommates au!, very americanized college experiences, frat parties, mentions of drinking & vomiting, could be read as platonic but there are definitely romantic undertones, feelings of inadequacy/being out of place, hurt/comfort, social anxiety, blade is probably ooc i'm gonna be so honest, mild kafka & reader friendship, erggg im probably missing something

notes: no i have to be so honest blade is probably completely out of character i have not played a single side quest with him in it but i just think he has reluctant roommate-to-best friend potential and i wanted to pour that into a fic,,, this is mostly unintelligible but i did proofread! love you all

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, and the first thing that you think is Blade’s hands are supposed to be cold.

It’s really pathetic. You’re somewhere in a stupid frat house, the thrumming of music around you. There’s the flashing colors and sounds of Mario Kart on the TV, the smell of puke (probably yours) and corona lite, and a hand on your shoulders that you’ve discerned is not your roommate, Blade’s. 

Looking to the side, you follow the hand (painted, manicured nails, definitely still not Blade’s), and it leads up to an arm up to a shoulder up to a face, and—oh. 

“You’re—” you pause, getting your words in order before you puke them up, “you’re Blade’s pretty lady friend?” It’s supposed to come out as a statement, but leans more to a question. She looks down, a bit of a teasing grin on her face, but her eyes are a little soft so you trust her. 

“Is that what he calls me?” she jokes.

“No, I’m— I came up with that.” If you had any dignity left in you, you’d be embarrassed to admit that to her. Unfortunately, you’re pretty sure that Kafka (the pretty lady friend in question) just held your hair back and wiped your face as you puked into a frat-house toilet, flushing your dignity away with your dinner. Your eyes burn with tears and mortification, and you pray that only Kafka saw your embarrassing mishaps.

“I called him to pick you up,” she tells you, already looking away from you and scanning the room as if looking for something, or someone. “I would take you home myself, but I’ve got some things to take care of. And I’m assuming you didn't bring your keys with you?” 

A quick pat-down of your pockets confirms that, yes, you somehow managed to leave your keys at home, the one personal necessity that you were supposed to bring besides your phone. Which, thankfully, you do at least have.

“Umm, the…” you mutter, tongue tangling uselessly as you try to find a way out of here without facing the impending doom of Blade’s aggravated scolding and his I told you so’s. 

A week ago, you went to him with an invite to this frat party and begged him to come with you, saying something like You don’t go out much, this is your chance! He’d adamantly refused, calling it a bad idea and rolling his eyes whenever you brought it up. But you were stubborn, and you wanted to have a fun college experience, so you forced him to drive you to the party with the promise of paying for his next gas payment and getting your own ride back home at the end of the night. 

“I can go,” you finally tell Kafka, mind stringing along memories and thoughts and alarm bells of get your ass home before you have to sit in an awful car ride with Blade, “It’s, like, a fifteen minute walk, don’t call him.” 

“It’s a little too late for that, kid,” Kafka drawls, amusement in her words. She’s smiling down at you, and you’re reminded of how small you feel. “He’s already on the way.” 

“No!” you protest, a little too loudly, but not loud enough to be heard over the thumping of music and bodies and voices. “It’s— Kafka, please, just tell him to turn around, I really don’t want him to deal with me today.” 

If you knew her even less, you’d misinterpret the twitch in her expression as concern—but you’re not too dumb, so you read it as amusement. “Trust me, he’s not going to have a problem with that. You’ll be fine.” 

Whatever that means. Kafka’s too cryptic for your liking, but you won’t complain. She wiped up your vomit from the dirty bathroom tiles and stayed with you to make sure you didn't get trampled, and she didn't complain about any of that. In a week, when you have enough strength to face her again, you’ll treat her to a good, expensive, flaky pastry. She seems like the kind of person who would love those. 

Her phone buzzes with a text notification, and she clicks her tongue, standing up and pulling you with her. Her hand is still warm, seeping through the sleeve of your shirt as she takes you by the forearm, gentle but guiding. Your stomach churns at the thought of seeing Blade, the thought of him seeing you like this. Freshly-puked-out with a nasty stomachache all because of a party that he told you not to go to. 

You hold back your protests as Kafka leads you through the still-crowded frat house. What time is it? Has nobody gotten bored yet, seriously? At least you didn't kill the mood by running to the bathroom and weeping into the toilet. It seems like nobody noticed, except for Kafka, and you don’t know if that should make you feel comforted or just more upset. 

The cool air of the night hits you as you step through the front door, eyes tracking your feet as you walk down the concrete steps. You see the silhouette of Blade’s ugly blue car in your peripheral vision, but you don’t want to look up in fear of seeing the disappointment on his face so soon. He’s going to rip you a new one, and then call you a slob and kick you out of the apartment and say I can’t have a party fiend living with me even though this was your first party ever, honest. 

You barely register that you’ve reached the passenger side of Blade’s car, only coming back to awareness when Kafka opens the door for you and starts nudging you into the seat. A really pathetic part of you wants to grab onto her arm and cry hard enough that she just relents and lets you walk home, but you’re already half into the passenger seat, looking everywhere but Blade. 

“Take care of them, won’t you, Bladie?” Kafka commands lightly, her hand leaving your arm as you get situated and buckled up in the car. Blade lets out a little huff in response and your stomach sinks. He’s already annoyed. 

The car ride to your apartment is only five minutes at this time of night. You just have to survive five minutes in silence and pray that he doesn’t tear into you and scold you like a disappointed parent. A glance at the clock on the car’s console confirms that it’s half past midnight. What the fuck. What were you even doing at the party for that long, besides vomiting and crying? 

The car rumbles, exhaust sputtering a little bit as Blade pulls out from the side of the street and drives slowly, carefully, as if not to rattle you, and you really just want him to speed up and throttle the car around so you feel more guilty about waking him up in the middle of the night to come pick you up. Blade goes to bed at eleven, the latest. You can’t imagine why Kafka thought it would be a good idea to call him, of all people, but then you remember that you kind of don’t have any other friends on campus. Your chest tightens at the thought. 

Blade makes some kind of sniffling noise, his way of trying to initiate some kind of conversation. There’s not even any music playing, because he always drives in dead silence because he’s abnormal, and on any other day you’d tease him about it like you always do. You see him turn his head to you in the corner of your eye, but you refuse to acknowledge him. You wish he’d just start scolding you, yelling at you or something. 

Tears prickle behind your eyes, painfully so, but your hands tighten around each other in your lap as you will yourself to not cry like a baby in front of your roommate. He lets out another sigh, but it doesn’t sound angry, just tired, and somehow that makes you feel worse. 

“What were you guys even drinking?” is his question of voice, and it’s the one question you didn't want him to ask, and you can’t help it when the tears spill over and you bring your hand up to wipe them away frantically, hiccuping a little bit as your gut churns. 

“What—” Blade stutters, and he never stutters, and you see him whip his head around to look at you, crying into your hands over a simple question, and you just want to leave the car and walk home like you told Kafka you would do. He pulls over to the side of some residential street. There’s a dog barking in a yard and wind chimes clinking together, and you think of your handmade bottle cap wind chime hung in the balcony of yours and Blade’s apartment, and it just makes you cry more. 

The car comes to a full stop. Blade puts it in park and turns completely to you. You spare a quick glance at him through the gaps between your fingers, and there’s something like worry on his face, which you’ve never seen before. His face is pinched, lips parted as if wanting to say something, but he can’t. He’s waiting for you. 

“I didn't drink anything, Blade,” you sob, feeling miserable at the state of yourself, at how you went to a frat party with nobody you knew and just walked around like a lost child, too scared to drink or talk to anyone, too anxious to say a word. “Not even a shot, or a sip, nothing from the fridge. It was so stupid, you were right, okay? It was a stupid idea, and I shouldn’t have gone.” Your breath catches in your throat, and the car is dead quiet as Blade lets your words sink in. 

You try not to make so much noise when you cry, but you’re sniveling and wiping your face and wishing that he would just stop looking at you like that. You can still see the ruby-red of his eyes even when you can’t bear to look up at him, and it makes you so viscerally upset. 

Blade is beautiful, really, and it makes you so upset that he looks better than you right now despite him being dragged right out of bed by Kafka’s phone call with a request to pick you up just minutes ago. You, who spent hours selecting an outfit, just to feel inadequate and wholly ugly the minute you walked through the door. It felt like you were back in middle school, spending hours with your parents picking out an outfit to a school dance, looking through ties and pants and shoes, just to show up and feel both overdressed and underdressed, feel like a fool, feel like you just can’t look the way everyone else does. Like something is always a little wrong. 

“Kafka said that you got sick. You didn't drink anything? You’re sure?” 

“No,”  you confirm pitifully, wanting him to just drop the topic and drive the rest of the way home and never talk about this again. “I was just anxious, and I puked like an idiot. Kafka helped me, she was the only one that I knew at the party. I don’t know. I don’t remember anymore. I was just anxious.” 

He says your name, not unkindly, but with a prying tone that just makes a fresh wave of tears stream down your face in rivulets. “Why would you go if you didn't know anyone?” 

“I don't know!” you shout, heated with embarrassment. You’re acting like a child, throwing a tantrum and crying and shouting in Blade’s car. The seatbelt is too tight on you. You fiddle with it, pulling it from the juncture of your neck and shoulder and loosening it, scratching your bitten nails against the scratchy cloth and looking out of the car window so that you can avoid Blade’s awful, terrible, intrusive gaze. 

“I just wanted to be normal, or something. I don’t know anybody from any of my classes. I don’t talk to anyone from my major. And then I got the invite for the party somehow and I just thought it would be fun. I don’t know, Blade, I know I should’ve listened to you, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop,” he says firmly, fully turned to you now, as if he wants you to look back at him, to listen to whatever he’s going to say, and that’s the one thing you don’t want to do. You hate that he’s being kind. You wish he’d be sarcastic and mean and cruel, bite into you and feed off your self-pity. But he’s being nice, nice in the same way that he’s nice when he buys the right brand of milk for you (because the others make you sick, and the taste is different), or when he drives you places in his car when it’s raining so that you don’t have to take the buses everywhere, or when he comes home with your ridiculous coffee order that costs a hellacious amount of money with all of your substitutions and additions and flavorings. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says resolutely, leaving no room for argument, “Just— I didn't know you were feeling like that. I would’ve gone with you if you told me you needed someone. I assumed you were going with a friend.” 

You don’t respond with I don’t have any friends, because you’re pretty sure that’s clear enough by now, and you don’t want to confirm what’s already been confirmed a million times over just from the way you act. The way you cling to yours and Blade’s apartment, the way you never spend a second longer than you need to in any of your classes, the way that sometimes, when Blade goes out for class or work, you sit on the couch in silence with your laptop out, doing your work for the week and checking the clock and taking naps so that you don’t have to feel so alone for so long. 

“You didn't want to go,” you say instead, “I wasn’t going to make you just because I’m— I don’t know.” 

“I would’ve gone for you,” he tells you, really tells you, with a force in his words, like he wants to drive the point into you with a stake, driven right through your heart. “I would do a lot of things if you asked. You just need to ask.” 

You don’t— you really don’t want to think about what that means. What he means. You rip your eyes away from the car window and turn to face him. He’s not too close. You almost wish he could be closer, but you would suffocate under the pressure in your stomach and behind your eyes. 

He shouldn’t say things like that, things like You just need to ask, because you’d ask for a lot if given the chance. You’d ask for him to come to parties with you, stay by your side, let you put a hand on his shoulder and guide him around another disgusting frat house as if you know what you’re doing. You’d ask him to sleep in the same bed as you some nights, just a foot away from each other, backs turned to each other but still close enough that you can feel the unnatural coldness that radiates off of Blade. 

You’d ask him to introduce you to Kafka and that other girl they hang out with, to say something stupid and funny like This is my abhorrent roommate, be nice to them, and that way you’d have more contacts in your phone that aren't just Blade and your parents and two old high school friends who you haven’t spoken to in a year. You’d ask him to be a lot more than just a plus-one to a party full of people you’ve never met. 

“I just want to go home,” you breathe out, a guilty confession burning your gums and leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying sorry,” he asserts for the second time tonight, making your lungs squeeze as you puff out a tired exhale. Blade turns back in his seat, taking the car out of park and heading back onto the road—driving slowly, yet again, avoiding cracks and potholes in the road. “You need to eat something. You’ll wake up with a hellish headache if you go to bed dehydrated.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“I said it, so it’s true,” he says petulantly, turning the car down into a road that’s definitely not in the direction of your apartment building. To your hidden delight, the glowing sign of a twenty-four-seven ice cream store comes into view, and you sit up just a little bit. Blade slows the car as he turns into the drive-thru, glancing at you with an eyebrow half-raised. 

“What do you want? I’ll order for you.” 

“I don’t have my wallet,” you admit, just a little bit embarrassed. “I didn't even bring my keys with me. Do you think they take Apple Pay?” 

A breathy laugh escapes him, and you catch sight of a dimple pressed into his cheek, and you want to press your thumb into it and look at his smile, just for a little longer. “Don’t be dumb. I’m paying,” he tells you, the same way he has every time he pays for your cafe drink, or when he comes home from work with your favorite, and says You’re broke enough without having to pay for these drinks, don’t pay me back in that snippy way he shows his care. 

You ask for a medium vanilla milkshake, with sprinkles, and he gets you a large instead, which you’re more than grateful for. He refuses to let you look at the receipt for the total cost, and hands you the milkshake with a comical severity that you often see in him. The sweet drink washes away any bitter taste left in your mouth, and you feel a little better, a little nicer in your haphazard party outfit and under Blade’s fleeting gaze. 

A deep sigh escapes you, one of relief, when the car finally parks at your apartment building. Blade puts a cold hand between your shoulder blades, unobtrusive and leading, and it’s a comforting contrast from the heat lingering on your skin from the party and the closed car. It feels right, more in-place than Kafka’s warm hands were when she wiped your face and kept you steady, though she was just as gentle. 

Blade all but tosses you onto the couch, claiming that it’s much too late for a shower and he’d rather not deal with you collapsing from exhaustion in the tub. You relent easily, the exhaustion of the night hitting you and soaking into your limbs. 

“I’ll let you sleep on the couch,” he says, and it’s a good and kind thing, because he knows that sometimes you hate your bedroom because it’s just too empty, and the constant sound filtering into the living room puts you at ease. He never lets you sleep on the couch, because it’s bad for your back, and he jokes about you developing adult onset scoliosis with the awful way you sleep. Letting you do it, just this once, is another one of his small mercies. 

The TV is on, humming at a low volume, and your legs are thrown across Blade’s lap. You’re shocked that he’s willing to fall asleep with you like this, but he’s kind, sarcastic and biting but kind all the same, as much as he loathes to admit it. It’s not too lonely, you decide, hearing the bottle cap wind chimes on your balcony clink together in dissonant harmonies. 

(There’s a missing text from a new contact on your phone when you wake up, coming from pretty lady friend, extending an invite to brunch in two days, and you kick your legs on the couch in giddy excitement, thinking about how you’ll rope Blade into coming with you, too.)

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons

(pssst!!! send me a msg or fill out the form in my navi to be added to the taglist!!!)

#blade x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #blade hsr x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr ren x reader #thats his name right.......... #blade x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #begging myself to write something under 1k next time #i miss when i had the ability to write short drabbles instead of behemoths #i say this as if i don't have a supernatural blade fic thats already 5k and not even halfway done #THATS the real behemoth #he's so out of character here forgive me #i just like his pretty face #me writing about a frat party when i have yet to even touch the vicinity of a party house

[wheretheresawyll]

Stepping into the bg3 tags and having to see another fucking post about Wyll's rat diet banter for the 5000th time

#'i havent had him in my party since' #'i put him in time-out lol' #'why is wyll such a bully it must be from his ea writing' #Oh? and are you acting like this with any of the other characters?? hmmmm???? #bg3 #wyll ravengard

[krenenbaker]

Trick or Treat~!

Pairing: Che'nya x Floyd (could be read platonically or romantically)

Summary: It's finally Halloween night, but Floyd is in a bit of a slump. However, the arrival of a curious companion may just make the Halloween party a bit more interesting for him.

Notes: This is my first attempt at something following a prompt - specifically, "Trick or Treat" for the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. I'm trying to get more comfortable/practiced with writing prose (which is why this wasn't posted on the 30th... oops), and only vaguely ended up following the prompt. I'm fairly happy with how this little piece turned out, though!

Tags: @dove-da-birb, @azulashengrottospiano, @inkybloom-luv, @eynnwwyjth, @officialdaydreamer00 (please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations)

Floyd wanted to take a break. 

It was Halloween, and all he had done the entire week was work, work, work. Getting costumes ready, decorating, helping with their dorm's presentation, plus cooking and serving at the Lounge, all on top of normal classes? 

Sure, it was fun, especially getting to show off Octavinelle's cool setup, and 'taking care of' those misbehaving visitors. But now? Everything felt draining and boring, and Floyd simply wanted to leave, which sucked because the actual Halloween party had just started!  

Maybe he should just ditch and go back to his dorm; being in a funk when everyone else is having fun around you is not enjoyable.  He slumped down on a bench and unwrapped a sweet he had picked up earlier, before wrapping it up again. Ugh, not even in the mood for that candy he wanted only a few minutes ago. 

As he shoved the sweet back into his pocket and was about to get up from the bench to leave, Floyd heard a rustle behind him. Someone was quietly humming, and… laughing? The sound gradually moved to his side, towards the empty side of the bench.  

“Trick or treat~”

Floyd turned to face the voice. "Listen, man, I'm not in the mood to—” he froze, staring at the figure beside him. “Hang on a second, where's your body!?"

A toothy smile came to the face of the head that currently floated beside Floyd. "Oh, it's here.... or maybe it's there." A pair of hands materialized on either side of this boy's head, followed by the rest of his body. 

“I'm just kidding. Mind if I take a seat? I’d like to rest up before I keep purrowling around and startling people.”

Floyd blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Uh, go for it.” 

This guy was... weird, and it was hard to tell if he'd be annoying, or interesting. "You don't go here, do ya? At least, I’ve never seen you before. And you’re no ghost, either.”

The cat-like boy shook his head, his jewellery jingling softly. "I'm just passing through for the festivities and collecting treats. Scaring some people, too. That’s loads of fun. And it's always nice to see my friends let loose." 

Floyd had a vague memory surface. "Ohh... you must be that RSA boy who's friends with Sea Turtle and Goldfishie." 

"'Sea Turtle' and 'Goldfishie', hey? Those are good names for my green and red friends. Cats are known for liking fish." He leaned forward, his grin growing. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Floyd nodded, “Floyd Leech. It's nice to meet you, too.” He looked curiously at the boy beside him, taking in his shaggy hair, piercings, and impish smile.

"You're not what I expected.” Floyd smiled, "But you seem fun, Catfish. I didn't think Goldfishie would get along with someone so... interesting."

Che'nya's eyes lit up slightly. "Catfish? Heh heh heh, most people call me Che'nya, but I guess that works. And I’ve heard some… interesting stories about you, too."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back with his arms behind his head as he sighed. "But yeah, I don't think Riddle could shake me if he tried." 

"I'm almost jealous." Floyd tipped his head slightly. "Most of the time, Goldfishie likes to swim away before I can play with him."

Che'nya laughed, "Well, if you're wondering, he 'swam off' that way." He pointed off to the side. “Just don’t be rough with him. I don’t like people mistreating my friends.”

Floyd looked off into the crowd where he had pointed, and let out a small laugh. “Alright, good to know. Maybe I’ll find him later, if I feel like it”, he smiled and sat back. “And Goldfishie’s stronger than he looks, but I guess you’d know that.”

Che’nya nodded, then leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet we could do something that would really surprise him.” 

Floyd turned slightly towards Che’nya, and flashed a smile. “Yeah, we probably could. I think we should talk more in the future, Catfish. You seem pretty fun.” 

Che’nya grinned, “You seem pretty fun, too.”

"Well,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’m going to go and find some more treats… and play some more tricks tonight. I'll catch you around, Floyd." 

With a haunting giggle echoing in his ears, Floyd watched as the boy beside him faded into nothingness, just the same way he had arrived. 

What a weird guy.

Floyd unwrapped the candy he had pocketed earlier, then popped it into his mouth. Maybe this party was worth staying at after all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst rarepair halloween #rarepair halloween #floyd leech #che'nya #artemiy artemiyevich pinker #che'nya x floyd #krenenbaker's :) #krenenbaker's creations #and now... for the ramble-y tags #first: I desperately need more people to write Che'nya and Floyd interacting. their dynamic would be so damn silly!! #second: I had SUCH a hard time figuring out Che'nya's speech patterns - he really doesn't have many lines in canon! #I based some of his lines on the Cheshire Cat's lines in the 1951 film. I think they fit? #and I have no idea is this feels at all natural or in character for either Che'nya or Floyd... but there was an attempt :) #I need to practice writing more stuff like this #I also went through about 4 different possible ways their conversation could have gone before getting this down #here... it's almost like Che'nya's taking a break from tricking AND treating at the NRC Halloween party #that's how I'm saying the prompt applies at least #anywho... I GOT IT FINISHED! I WROTE A THING!! #and I'm going to write more. that IS a threat ^v^

[dreamofbecoming]

more stobin nonsense from your resident trash goblin. feat. shitty harrington parents, lavender marriage, full party found family shenanigans, steddie flirting, steve&will bonding, and a severe lack of dialogue tags

rating: t wc: 5k ao3

“I knew it!”

Steve sighs. Listen, he knew the minute he opened his mouth that this was coming. There was always a zero percent chance Dustin was ever gonna let him get out the whole thing before bursting in with this exact interruption, but that doesn’t make it less annoying. If the little shithead would just let him finish--

"I knew you were perfect together, I can't believe you didn't tell us you were dating! How long have you been a thing? I have money to collect! Can I be your best man? Never mind, obviously I'm gonna be your best man. You so owe me for not telling me sooner! I cannot believe-"

"Henderson!"

"What?"

"We're not together like that."

In fairness, Dustin is not the only one to give them an incredulous look for that one.

"Steve. You literally just announced you and Robin are getting married. What is even the point of pretending you're not in love anymore? What are you still trying to prove? Just admit I was right the whole time!"

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and forces himself to take a deep breath, instead of wringing Dustin's weird little boneless neck. It's not his fault, he reminds himself. They haven't gotten to the second part of the announcement, so his assumptions are natural.

Now, it is Henderson's fault that they haven't managed to say the rest of what they came here to say, so maybe he can keep blaming him after all.

"Do you remember when we sat down and we asked you guys to let us say everything we were gonna say without interrupting?"

"Uh, yeah dude, it was like ten minutes ago. We're not stupid."

"Has it occurred to you that maybe we weren't done saying everything we were gonna say, considering I was halfway through a sentence when you jumped in?"

"I mean, I guess, but like, it's pretty obvious where you're going with this, Steve. You're not a complicated guy, no offense. Now, where did we land on the best man issue?"

Nancy must see the offense very much taken on his face, because before he can open his mouth and say something probably horrifically rude that would feel amazing in the moment and which he would immediately regret, she jumps to his rescue.

"Dustin, you're being very rude. Steve and Robin came here to talk to us, and we promised to listen. Let them finish."

It's nice of her to back Steve up, considering how weird this conversation must be for her. Hopefully it gets less awkward soon.

Henderson grumbles mutinously, but years of dealing with first Mike and then the rest of the little dickheads have left Nancy's control ironclad, and he waves sarcastically for Steve to continue.

This kid is spending too much time with Eddie, the attitude is getting out of hand.

"Right. Thanks, Nance. As I was saying, Robin and I are getting married, yes. But not because we're in love. I mean, I love her, obviously, but as a friend. Only a friend. Or, well, I guess a friend and soon a...friend...wife? Frife? Wend? You guys get it."

"We very much don't." Alright, well, fine, add Max to the shitlist.

He looks over at Robin, hoping for help, but she's stiff as a board and trembling all over.

He doesn't want to be the one to say the words for her. They agreed together to tell everyone the truth, it was her idea even, but the last thing he wants to do is steal that moment from her.

Maybe he can just…talk around it, until she feels up to it. And if not, he’ll just tell them his part of it and call it good.

“We’re getting lavender married.”

Okay, so that’s probably not like. A normal way to say that or whatever. Robin just used that term like fifty times last night, alright? She was really excited about the article she just read about it, something about how it was a thing in, like, olden times or whatever, and now it’s coming back because Reagan is a fucking tool, Steve’s not sure, he was only kind of listening. Regardless, now it’s stuck in his head. Sue him or whatever, geez.

Anyway, he isn’t sure how many people in this room will actually understand what that means, but Nancy’s mouth drops open in a perfect little O the way it only does when she’s genuinely surprised by something, and there’s a tiny gasp from over by the table that he thinks might have come from Will, and Max mutters to herself “Oh shit, that explains so much,” so it’s not none of them, which helps. No pitchforks yet, at least.

Jonathan is eyeing him speculatively, and Argyle is offering him an enthusiastic thumbs up, which is nice.

Unfortunately, the other boys and El are giving him blank, expectant stares, and Erica is eyeing him with both confusion and annoyance, so it looks like he still has some explaining to do.

“What the hell does your color scheme have to do with this? I’m not helping plan the wedding, dude, I don’t care that much.”

Steve mumbles a “Language,” on reflex, but his heart isn’t in it. This is somehow more nerve-wracking than evil Russians.

“Mike, that’s not what it means. Now shut up and listen, or I’ll tell Mom how that red sock ended up in her load of white delicates.”

“Oh come on, she’ll kill me!” When all he gets in return is a single raised eyebrow, he groans and slumps further into his seat, glaring at Steve.

“Right. Okay. So basically, last night, my parents--”

“I’m a lesbian!”

There’s a beat of dead silence, which in this group is more unsettling than just about anything else.

Steve keeps his eyes on Robin, who looks just about as shocked at her own outburst as everyone else in the room. He takes her hand, squeezing gently until she unfreezes a little and looks back over at him. She looks terrified, and it breaks his heart a little.

“You okay, babe?” He keeps his voice low, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear. He knows this moment is the opposite of private, but she needs him to pretend for a second, so that’s what he’s gonna do.

She nods, a little jerkily, but she grips his hand back and intentionally evens out her breathing. She’s so fucking brave. He would burn the world down for Robin Buckley, and he doesn’t care who knows it.

He can’t believe she’s willing to do this for him, but he’s so grateful he feels like he’s choking on it.

“Henderdork will literally never shut up and let you live it down if we do this and he doesn’t know the truth. Not even for a single second for the rest of forever, and I, for one, am not putting up with that shit until death or legal marriage reforms do us part, Dingus.”

It was a solid point last night when they came up with the plan, curled on her bed while she stroked his hair and generously pretended he hadn’t soaked the shoulder of her shirt with his sobs, all his worldly possessions packed into a duffel on her bedroom floor, but he knows her insistence was more about knowing how much he hates lying to the kids than it was about protecting herself from irritating teenagers.

He doesn’t think there’s enough room on the whole planet to hold all the love he feels for her, even if you count the Upside Down and any other weirdo dimensions floating around out there waiting to ruin his day.

“I’m okay, bubba. Don’t let go?” Her hand is shaking in his, but he just squeezes harder.

“Never.” He turns back to the room, eyes hard as he scans the faces of their family for any hostility. He wouldn’t have agreed to this part of the plan if he thought any of them would be a problem, but he’s not taking anything for granted with Robbie’s safety. Not now, not ever. "Everyone's gonna be cool about that, right?"

"Of course we are, right, guys?" From the pained grunt that follows her words, Steve assumes Max has dug her elbow into Mike's ribs.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"I suppose this makes you slightly less lame, Buckley. It's definitely better than when I thought you liked this loser." Wow, okay, thank you Erica.

"Yeah totally! Thanks for trusting us, Robin." Lucas is a sweetheart, he really is. He's also glancing surreptitiously at Will while he nods enthusiastically, who is still staring open-mouthed at Robin with wide, shiny eyes.

"Yes, thank you for trusting us, Robin." Nancy is smiling kindly, but she's got that glint in her eye that Steve knows means she just came up with more questions and is waiting for the right moment to strike. Fair enough, at least she's letting Robs have her moment first.

He finally drags his eyes back to Dustin, who he doesn't really want to admit, even to himself, he's a little worried about. Not that he'll be shitty about it, necessarily, but there's nothing that brings out Henderson's bitchy side like being wrong, and he's been so fucking wrong this entire time. It's bound to upset him.

And maybe Steve will never say this out loud where the other kids might hear, but the truth is that Dustin's opinion matters to him more than just about everyone else's. Dustin was the first person in the whole world who saw Steve, the real Steve, and decided he was worth keeping around. If Henderson can't accept this part of Robin, it means he can't accept this part of Steve, and if that happens...if that happens Steve isn't sure he'll be able to come back from it.

So he's...not worried, okay? Worried is not the right word. Anxious, maybe. Concerned.

Okay fine fuck off he's worried.

Dustin...looks like he's about to cry. Shit.

"Did you think you couldn't trust me?" His voice is so small. Steve doesn't think he's ever heard it so small. It feels wrong. Henderson's voice should fill every room he's in, always. "You didn't have to lie. You could have told me the truth."

Aw, fuck.

"Buddy,--"

"It's not that simple, little man."

Steve whips back around to look at Robin. Are you sure you’re up for this? She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. Yeah, Dingus, this is my mess. Let me clean it up. Put the lance down, White Knight. Well, alright then. He waves for her to continue, ignoring the looks the others always shoot them when they do their silent conversation thing. Not his fault they can’t read each other as well, it’s not like it’s hard.

"Before today, Steve was the only person in the world who knew about me. And honestly, I don't know if I would have told him if we weren't both coming off torture and truth serum. I've worked hard to hide it my whole life, baby Dingus, that's not an easy thing to stop doing. It's scary."

"But we're your friends. We're your family! We saved the world together! You should trust your family, right?"

Aw, jeez. Steve forgets, sometimes, how young they are. They've been through horrific supernatural trauma, but they're still the kind of kids who think life is a story with a happy ending, like their little dragon game.

"Yeah, bud, you should, but it's not always that easy. There can be really serious consequences for telling the wrong person. Like, last night my parents found out I'm bisexual by accident and now I...well. Now I don't have parents anymore." Oof, okay, little blunter than he meant to be, but Robbie's getting anxious again so he has to take the focus back.

There's an eruption of sound, as every voice in the Party starts shouting all at once, turning the Wheeler's basement into Steve's own personal migraine generator.

"Did they kick you out?"

"You're bisexual?!"

"What's bisexual?"

"They can't just do that!"

"Does this mean we have to find somewhere else for Hellfire nights?"

That last one earns Erica several Looks, but she doesn't flinch. "What? I'm just being practical."

He wishes Eddie was here. The gremlins actually listen to him, unlike Steve, on account of as their Hellfire DM, he has leverage they care about to threaten them with. Well, most of them, but it's definitely a help when he's around.

Sadly he and Wayne are at some kind of Munson family reunion down in West Virginia this week, so Steve is gonna have to do this whole spiel over again when he gets back. He and Robin thought about waiting until he got back and the whole Party could be together, but the kids would definitely notice him not living in Loch Nora anymore pretty much immediately. And Steve hates the idea of telling him over the phone, so double coming out/engagement announcement it is.

"Alright, Jesus Christ, enough! One at a goddamn time, you animals."

He looks back at Dustin, who's definitely crying now. "Yeah, buddy, they kicked me out, but I'm okay. I'm staying with the Buckleys for now, and Rob and I have been saving up to move in together soon anyway, so all this did is move up our timeline. I'm safe and I'm fine, okay? I promise."

Dustin plasters himself to Steve's front, squeezing like he's worried Steve is going to shatter into pieces and he can hold him together by sheer force of will. It's very sweet, even if it's crushing his lungs a little.

"I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me." The words are muffled in Steve's chest, he's not sure anyone else heard him.

"Aw, kid, it's okay. I trust you, alright? Always. You die, I die, remember? I was just...figuring my shit out, that's all."

"Your parents are mouthbreathers." Steve chuckles a little at the mutinous glare on El's face, not pausing his hand where he's stroking Dustin's hair.

"You're not wrong, Supergirl. But it's fine, honestly. They've always been dicks, I've been planning to move out for a long time. They just...gave me the final push, is all." He's definitely leaving out the part where he broke down sobbing in Robbie's bed last night, asking her over and over why he was so broken that his own parents couldn't love him, but the kids don't need to hear that part of the story.

"Does this have something to do with your whirlwind engagement?" There she is, ace reporter Nancy Wheeler. Observant as always.

"Yeah, pretty much. They disinherited me, but they're still legally my next of kin."

"And Dingus has had far too much head trauma for me to trust he's not gonna end up back in the hospital for something at some point, and the last thing we need is Mr. and Mrs. von Child Neglect getting that call. And I was just reading about gay men and women who are marrying each other so they can have someone allowed in to see in them in the hospital, because of the virus, you know? And I thought, hey that's not a half bad idea! We're gonna be living together anyway, and it's not like I'm marrying anyone else, and it'll be good for both of us to have someone who knows about, y'know, monsters and all that jazz, to do our power of attorney stuff, so, voila! Mr. and Mrs. Bucklington!"

"We are not changing our name to Bucklington."

"Well Harringley is worse, so suck it up, buttercup."

"I'm not interested in keeping the Harrington name, Bobs, I'd rather just be a Buckley."

"Aw, bubba, you're gonna make me cry!"

"You should both become Hendersons! Then we'd really be brothers!"

Steve erupts into laughter, the tension effectively broken by Dustin's wide, toothy grin. "What d'ya say, Bobbie? Steve and Robin Henderson?"

"Would we get access to Claudia's lasagna recipe? Because if so, I'm behind this plan one hundred percent.”

"By 'we' you do mean me, right? Because I love you more than life, Bobs, but I'm not letting you anywhere near a casserole dish. I've learned that lesson."

"It was one time!"

"It took me three days to get all the cheese off the ceiling! There's still a stain!"

"Well good! Ceiling grease stains can be the Harrington's problem now, anyway. They deserve it!"

Argyle is nodding sagely from on top of the incredibly deflated bean bag he's sharing with Jonathan. "I do like Bucklington, it makes you sound like a fancy butler. But family is important, brochachos, and so is lasagna. I vote Henderson."

This spurs impassioned arguments from all corners, which Steve is more than happy to relax into the couch cushions and let wash over him.

There's a light, bubbly feeling in his chest. For the first time since his dad walked in unannounced yesterday, interrupting his phone call with Robin at the worst possible moment, the knot of fear and grief in his stomach starts to loosen.

Robin smiles at him, and he grins helplessly back. Who needs parents when he's got a soulmate? They're together, they're safe, they're surrounded by their family. Steve holds Dustin tighter to his side and lets himself feel loved.

He takes advantage of a lull in the Last Name Wars to get out the last of the speech he'd planned. "Anyway, we decided to tell all of you the truth when we came up with this plan last night, because we do trust you and we didn't want to lie to you, and also because we knew you shitheads would never shut up about us being in love if we didn't and that sounded awful."

He laughs delightedly at the chorus of indignant outbursts this gets him before continuing.

"It's really important that you don't tell anyone outside the Party the truth, alright? We're gonna tell Eddie when he gets back, and we might tell Joyce and Hop eventually, but that needs to be our choice to do. You can't do it for us, and you absolutely can't tell anyone else. The whole point of this is to keep us safe by keeping people from finding out the truth, okay?"

El looks vaguely uncomfortable, but not upset. "Will you tell my Dad soon?"

Steve glances at Robbie, who's looking anxious again, and then over at Will. His shoulders are tense, hunched up around his ears, and he's staring intently at the table in front of him.

Steve isn't sure if anyone else knows what he thinks he knows about Will, but he's pretty sure he recognizes the specific flavor of isolation he can see Will struggling with sometimes, and he's definitely sure he recognizes the looks Will shoots at Mike whenever Wheeler isn't looking. Tommy used to look at him like that.

Either way, he knows the kind of fear the kid must be suffering, just like he knows how terrifying today was for Robin. For Steve, the worst case scenario has already happened, so he has a lot less left to lose. He can afford to smooth the way a little, to test the waters and make sure they're safe for everyone else.

It's not that different from his normal role in this group anyway, just a different kind of monster. He's always been good at taking hits so the others don't have to-- this is just another threat to step in front of.

"Tell you what, Ellie, I'll talk to Hop and Joyce this weekend, that way you won't have to keep secrets from him for too long. I'll just tell him about me, though, at first, okay? That way we'll know if it's safe for Robbie." Or anyone else, he doesn't say.

Jonathan hears it, at the very least, and shoots him a look that's equal parts surprised and grateful. Maybe Will has someone else in his corner after all, then.

El nods happily, satisfied with that.

Before anyone else can jump in, there's a clattering on the basement stairs. None of them have time to tense up too badly before the door bursts open and Eddie comes tumbling through it in a flurry of dark curls and frayed denim.

"Fear not, my wayward wastrels, for I have returned from far off lands, bearing tidings and the promise of libations!"

Steve only recognizes, like, four of those words, but seeing Eddie gives him the same happy, fizzy feeling in his gut that it always does these days, so he grins.

"You're back early, Eds, everything ok?"

Eddie blinks at him, then around the room, looking surprised to see it so packed.

"Yeah, my cousin Clarence accidentally broke my MeeMaw's pasture fencing and set all the goats loose in the hills, and if we stuck around we were gonna have to help round them back up, so Wayne and I snuck out early. I was coming to invite the gremlins out for pizza to tell you all about it, but this is more people than I was expecting. Y'all having a family meeting? Without little old moi?"

Steve valiantly suppresses the shiver that the twang in Eddie's voice triggers. Steve's not sure if Eddie notices the way his accent gets stronger when he's been talking to family, but he's had to work very hard to make sure he doesn't notice the way it affects Steve.

Steve has barely tested the flirting waters with Eddie since admitting his crush to Robin, he's definitely not jumping right in with 'It makes me tingly all over when you start talking with a drawl, wanna call me darlin' and see what happens?'

Luckily Bobbie notices his inner struggle and comes to his rescue.

"It was kind of a time sensitive issue- not a life or death one! Or like. Not a monster one, anyway. But shit went down last night and we needed to brief everyone before the geek squad figured out something was funky and came beating down the door. Steve wanted to tell you in person so we were gonna wait til you got back, but here you are!"

Eddie's looking at Robin with an amused smile on his face, one eyebrow raised and his lips quirked in a lopsided grin that is, frankly, unreasonably attractive. "Here I am indeed, my fair Lady of Feathers. So what's the scoop?"

He plops down next to Jonathan and Argyle on the beanbags, nearly sending them all toppling before Argyle hooks both of them around the waists and drags them practically into his lap.

Steve is not seething with jealousy. He's not.

A half a dozen voices chime out all at once.

"Robin's gay!"

"Steve's homeless."

"Robin and Steve are getting married!"

“Purple married.”

“It’s lavender, dummy.”

“Lavender’s a kind of purple!”

"They're gonna be Hendersons!"

"No they aren't, weirdo, they're gonna be Buckleys."

"Bucklington is clearly the superior choice, even if Argyle was right about the butler thing."

“Bucklington my ass, y’all dumb as hell if you think Mom and Dad aren’t gonna try and make him a Sinclair after this.”

"Mama and Papa Harrington didn't like that Stevie boy has double the love to give. Totally bogus. Bi bros for life, man."

"I still call Steve's best man!"

Eddie blinks a little when everyone quiets down, looking vaguely shellshocked. "That was. A lot of information to get in thirty seconds."

And, listen, Steve is like, 97% sure Eddie's cool. More than cool, even. He moves that bandana to the same pocket every time he changes his jeans, no matter what outfit he's wearing. There's no way that's an accident. But if Steve is being totally honest, which he's trying to do more these days, at least inside his own brain, this is maybe not the way he'd have chosen to come out to his crush. It's somehow way more nerve-wracking when he didn't even get to say it himself.

Oh well, it's out there now. It's fine, probably.

Still, there’s a definite feeling of relief when Eddie turns that megawatt grin on him again.

"Man, I wish I'd known there were other queers in Hawkins, I might have listened sooner when Henderson told me how cool you guys were!"

Steve laughs, only a little hysterically. "Dude, if you thought you were the only one, what the hell have you been wearing that hanky for? Who are you hoping will see it?"

It's a little gratifying to see Eddie go flaming tomato red in seconds. "I am not talking about that in mixed company, Steven. There are children here!"

"Ugh, we're literally teenagers."

"Tiny baby infants! If you're so curious, you can ask me again later."

"Promise?" Steve can't stop himself from grinning wolfishly.

Eddie tugs his hair in front of his face to hide, and the frantic little giggle and the quiet "Oh my god," he lets out both sound more than a little strangled. Steve's having the time of his life right now.

"Gross." Ugh, rude. He glares at Robin for ruining his fun. She sticks her tongue out at him.

Before they can devolve into the inevitable slapfight, Nancy cuts in again.

"Alright, unless anyone else has anything to share in private, I think we should take Eddie's suggestion and get something to eat." Good thinking, Nance. "To celebrate the happy couple, of course," she adds with a smirk. Yeah, that makes more sense.

"Onward then, my noble companions, to pizza and to paradise!" Eddie vaults off the beanbag, sending Jonathan and Argyle tumbling. Argyle laughs and accepts Eddie's hand up, while Jonathan just rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

Eddie slings an arm around Robin's shoulders as they head for the basement door. "So, Birdie, what's this I hear about a wedding? I need context."

As the kids go thundering up the stairs, arguing about who gets to drive in which car, Steve lingers. He noticed Will hanging back from the others, and now they're the last ones left, Will still slowly packing up the pens and notebooks he seems to carry around with him everywhere. Jonathan is hovering anxiously in the doorway, so Steve sends him a nod and waves him off. He's got this.

"You ready to go, kid?"

Will fidgets with the zipper on his bag for another few seconds before looking up at Steve through his, frankly tragic, fringe. "I'm sorry your parents suck."

"Yeah, man, me too." Steve shoots him a wry little smile. "It's alright though, sometimes we're better off without them. I've got plenty of family here that love me, I'll survive without Richard and Diane."

Will studies him for a minute. Steve's not sure what he's looking for, but he hopes he finds it.

"That's what Jonathan says about Lonnie." Steve nods, trying not to wince at the memory of the things he spat at Jonathan that day in '83 when everything changed. "I used to think it was my fault he left, but Jonathan says he was just a bastard, and it's better he's gone anyway."

"I didn't know Lonnie," he's careful not to say your dad, "but from what I've heard, Jonathan's probably right. And he's definitely right that it's not your fault."

"Like it's not your fault your parents kicked you out?"

"Yeah, exactly like that. If it was my fault, that would mean I did something wrong. The only thing I did was exist, and be different than they thought I would be. If they can't love the kid they had, then they shouldn't have had a kid at all. That's their problem, not mine. There's nothing wrong with me."

It doesn't matter if he heard all of these things from Robin first, if he's still trying to learn to believe them. Will needs to hear them like they're true, the same way Steve does.

"Are you sure?" Will's voice is trembling now. He's looking at the floor, but Steve can tell there are tears coming. "How can you be sure this is how you're supposed to be? Wouldn't you rather be normal?"

Oh, kid. "I mean, yeah, maybe it would be easier if I only liked girls, but I don't. I tried for a long time to pretend that I did, but it didn't make it true. And yeah, part of me wants to hate myself, because that's what they taught me to think, and I still kinda wish doing that would make them love me, but it won't. But honestly, you wanna know the biggest thing?" Will nods.

"I can't hate that part of myself without hating Robin, and there's no universe where I could hate Robin. Robin's perfect. She's the best person in the world, and she's gay, so being gay can't be bad. It's impossible. So whenever that voice in my head starts saying shitty things to me, I just think about how much I love Robin and tell it to shut up."

There's a beat where Will seems to be absorbing this.

"How did you know it would be safe? To tell us the truth?"

"I didn't."

Will stares at him in shock.

"Not a hundred percent, anyway. I was pretty sure, but it's never a guarantee with stuff like this, you know? But the other option was never telling anyone, and that...it gets tiring, you know? Always having to hide. Always having to check yourself. Lying when people ask the wrong questions. It wears you down. And I've fought monsters with you guys. I've been tortured by spies with you guys. If I can't trust this group to have my back, I can't trust anyone, can I? And I didn't want to live a life of not trusting anyone. I didn't want Bobbie to live a life like that. So, we took a chance. And it paid off, because all of you are the people we thought you were, and we were right to trust you. But it was a leap of faith, dude. It always is."

"What if I'm not ready?" Fucking shit, this kid. He's been through more than any of them, except maybe El, and he's still so goddamn brave. Steve would have crumpled like a tin can in his place.

"Then you're not ready. It's not a test, Will. There's no right or wrong answers. But I will say that every single person out there loves you, and they'll keep loving you no matter what you do. They're not like my parents, or Lonnie. Our friends aren't broken inside the way they are. Their love isn't conditional. You won't chase them away. You couldn't if you tried."

Will lets out a shaky breath, clearly fighting back tears. Steve leans against the table and keeps his head down, offering the kid the illusion of privacy while he pulls himself together. After a few minutes he speaks up again.

"You ready to go, you think?"

Will nods. He goes to walk past Steve to the stairs before hesitating and, to Steve's surprise, wrapping his gangly arms around him in an awkward hug.

"Thanks, Steve," he mumbles into Steve's shoulder.

Steve runs a hand down his back uncertainly. "Anytime, kid."

He keeps his arm around Will's shoulders tentative, but when the kid doesn't shrug him off or move away, he lets it settle more firmly, tugging him closer.

“Come on Baby Byers, let's go get some pizza. You think I can milk the disownment thing to get Eddie to pay for extra toppings?"

Will snorts. "I think Eddie would pay for as many toppings as you want as long as you do that little eyelash thing at him again."

Steve throws his head back and laughs, long and loud from his belly. Yeah, it's gonna be a good night.

my head hurts too much to keep writing this but please know that the pizza parlor engagement party involves plenty of arguing about roles in the wedding party, resulting in MOH erica/best man dustin (scoops troop babeyy), flower girl team lumax (max demanded the role bc her wheelchair means she can carry extra baskets of petals, and lucas will be pushing the chair so her hands are free. he's just excited to be there.) nancy/el bridesmaids and byler groomsmen (mike grumbles and groans but he's secretly thrilled). jonathan does the pictures and it turns out argyle got ordained back in cali as a joke so he officiates. eddie plays crimson and clover for robin’s wedding march. there’s a bit of a kerfuffle when claudia and the sinclairs both try to claim steve as their son, but after someone makes the argument that charles and sue have two kids to carry their name while claudia only has one, they end up hyphenating and becoming the buckley-hendersons. yes, claudia cries. yes, they get the lasagna recipe.

(at the pizza place, eddie asks what his role will be and steve says he doesn't know yet, but he'll save him a dance regardless. eddie has to hide in the bathroom to stop blushing.)

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #dustin henderson #will byers #eddie munson #appalachian eddie munson #the party #not tagging everyone bc i don't want to clog character tags but the gang's all here #inklings of steddie #for what it’s worth i’m firmly in the camp of ‘will is out to el so she knows about gay people’ #the stobin lavender marriage fic #almost #the pre-stobin lavender marriage fic is more accurate #this is mostly a coming out to the party fic #idk i had fun with it #but my head hurts and tags are hard #happy reading i'm going to sleep #my writing

[aurpiment]

I had a dream that I was watching The Terror again and it was… a bit different.

There was a plot where Francis Crozier was pregnant. Not by Fitzjames, no; they weren’t close like that. I think by someone who was 1) a casual hookup and 2) dead. He was confiding in Fitzjames about it, though, and complaining of breast soreness. Fitzjames asked him if he was sure he was pregnant and he said yes, that he recognized the symptoms from when he was younger, and then told a story about how his mother had helped him get an abortion when he was a teenager so he could pursue his then-incipient naval career.

Unfortunately, in the dream, I was watching this version of The Terror with my father and brother and they were confused. “But he’s a man! How is such a thing possible?”

“Transgender,” I explained impatiently, because it was obvious this was the direction the show had gone with the character, even though the actor playing him was still cisgender actor Jared Harris.

“But still, no way this would happen,” I added. “I mean, look at him. He’s GOT to be post-menopausal.”

#mt #this was like #well after the men had started dying #there’d been some disaster and the party had split and regathered #they’d gotten back onto the boat? #the ice had melted enough to sail a little? #mr hickey was there and kept trying to joint the conversation and Crozier kept telling him exasperatedly to drive the boat #all the while Crozier had a hand up his own shirt trying to relieve his #breast pain #anyway before you ask he DID have pale pink white person nipples. I seen them. #I think in the dream it was mastitis but that’s so rare antepartum #just one of the many ways the writing was unrealistic smdh! #but shout out to the imaginary Irish Catholic woman helping her kid get an abortion in like 1812. I DO want to believe. queen shit fr! #the terror #god Fitjames was such an idiot about it #it was like month four or five and he was like ‘do you think it could be a tumor’ #TUMORS DONT KICK HE JUST TOLD YOU IT WAS KICKING #DUMB ASS #but he was genuinely concerned as a friend so some crimes can be forgiven #francis crozier’s geriatric pregnancy hour #edit: the croziers were from ulster and Presbyterian. my bad! #sorry for calling his ma a Catholic do you forgive me

[afewproblems]

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask". 

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?' 

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?" 

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential  the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?" 

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged". 

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window. 

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?" 

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?" 

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night. 

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack. 

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb. 

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street. 

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake. 

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything. 

If anything, Eddie has more questions. 

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot. 

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue. 

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?" 

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?" 

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone. 

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him". 

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt". 

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.  

And Wayne would never hurt him. 

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse". 

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…" 

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?" 

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday". 

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos. 

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end. 

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again. 

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!" 

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers. 

"Dustin?" 

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

#stranger things #stranger things season 2 au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and nancy breakup #what would have happened if eddie had been at tinas halloween party? #this fic is going places apparently #eddie is having all sorts of complicated feelings about steve here #i will never get tired of halloween party breakup aus #you can pry them from my cold dead fingers #afewproblems writes #cw marijuana #crossing into the canon upside down stuff now #lets goooooooooo #dustin meets eddie early #eddie is listening to steve talk and just thinking ??? #like what is wrong with this boy there are too many things to count #cw bullying #billy hargrove is his own warning #I might rename this Castles Crumble based on that TSwift vault song #such a steve song am I right?

[luck-of-the-drawings]

my TWO FAVORITE THINGS IN THE WORLD, VAMPIRES N COWBOYS... deacon keller is SUCH a fun character, hes charming and funny but ALSO formidable and STRONG when he feels he needsta be. i hope him and arthur can get a chance to talk more and be better friends. l ike really good friend s. . like. like really good f. hangon i gotta go i think i hauve rabies.

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi suckening #jrwi suckening spoilers #deacon keller #arthur bennett #OOUGUGHHAAOGUguguhh i feel so cringe whenever i ship two characters. like theyre not even REAL #why cant i be more 'hyperfixated' on getting bitched or something. CHRIST. anwyay i want em to hold hands or smth. yknow. freak stuff. #SO DEACON KELLER!! HE OVERHEARD ARTHUR TALKIN ABT THIS PLACE GETTING ATTACKED.. WE SAW HIM APPROACHING #AND THEN THE WHOLE FEAST PORTION OF THE PARTY HAPPENED N HE GOT STUCK #BUT HE KNEEEWW HE OVERHEARD ARTHUR SOMEHOW!! i just think thats neat. hes dedicated to protecting his people. hes respectable!! #GOD he doesnt even have that much screen time but i LOVE HIMMM n his silly lil shadow steed named Sunshine.. like cmon.... ugh..... #hes sweet n hes funny and he CAARES about the things hes in charge of on some levels. he certainly does his best to look after his own. #god idk what else to write here other than how much hes been on my MMMIND lately. the doctors are still running diagnostiscs #i just think hes so neat... also i think its funny that hes afraid o snakes. OH YKNOW lemme just talk abt my damn art. first o all this too #SSSOOO LONG. WEEKS EVEN.IVE BEEN WORKIN ON IT SINCE EP 5 WAS ON PATREON.it was sposed to be justa buncha doodles but then it Evolved #idk man...cowboys are just so cool...especially w VAMP POWERS..fastest shot in the west for a REASON BABY...n with the red smoke #n the glowing eyes..CMOn thats so cool i hadta get my visions into reality. the eyes were inspired by the music video for RATTLESNAKE (kglw #that where the IM THE SERPENT lines come from.lyrics from tha song.ooh yeah i love kglw so much...i also have other hidden messages here #i like to hide things...ALSO ALSO. I HAD SO MUCH TROUBLE W SO MUCH O THIS. the two bits with arthur n deacon biting eachother. AGONY #POSES ARE SO HHARRDDD SAME WITH THAT doodle o arthur slammin deacons head into the ground. WEEKS to get that pose RIGHT. I BLED SO MUCH #OHH AND GUNS???COWBOYHATS?? HIS GAY LIL JACKET? W THE DANGLIES?? AGOONYYY IT TOOK SO LONG TO PERFECT IT..especialy guns. OUUUHH #i also dont draw mustaches enough... which sucks bc im weak for a good mustache... BUT i think im doing pretty well on that. #it was hard but yknow what!! i think i did good! i rly like how this all turned out!! EXCEPT FOR THA FUCKIN RIBBON BOW THING I FORGOT TODRA #IN THE TOP RIGHT... THAT I JSUT NOTICED...its fine its fine i dont care that much. this is good enough to FEAST upon so im content n happy. #anyway i gotta leave ina few hours to start TRAINING for my NEW JOB!! CHEER FOR ME!! TRUCK IS A BLACKJACK DEALER NOW!! IEAAAHHH BABYYYY!!!! #thanku for reading my weird lil scrolls i bury beneath my posts. if u leave tags i WILL absorb them. and feel joy.

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Two panels from Dungeon Meshi. The first scows Senshi clutching his face as tears start to spill out of his eyes, saying, "I've always... always wanted to have this soup one more time." He's not wearing his helmet in this panel, so his face is unusually visible, detailed and vulnerable. The second panel shows himself as a youngster, surrounded by his old mining team, all smiling at each other, one of them rubbing Senshi's head. Modern-day Senshi continues, "Thank you. All of you. Thank you." End ID.]

Holy shit. I anticipated some tragic backstory from the "I must feed the young ones" panels, but what I'd guessed was that Senshi might have become so devoted to cooking and eating literally whatever because he'd previously survived a famine and had seen children starve to death. I did not expect him to have been the child who was the sole survivor of a doomed travel party, one of whom was determined to feed Senshi first because he was the youngest, and that Senshi has lived with the fear of having inadvertently committed cannibalism by eating stew that he'd never quite known the contents of. I'm happy for him that Laios deduced and confirmed for him that it was griffin meat, that he was able to taste the meal that saved his life once more and remember the friends he lost. Seriously, I'm crying, and also earnestly relieved that while his backstory is pretty dark, it's not the type of fucked up I'd been preparing myself mentally for.

#Dungeon Meshi #Delicious in Dungeon #Dunmeshi #though it IS really worth exploring the ethics of cannibalism in survival situations #The podcast You're Wrong About has a really interesting pairing of episodes #in the Donner Party and Flight 571 Crash episodes #Both about disasters in which people wound up eating their dead to survive #and an interesting connection they drew was that it wasn't the cannibalism itself #that destroyed the lives of the Donner survivors #it was the horror and disgust and societal rejection they got for having eaten human flesh #even the children who had no idea what they were eating were treated with revulsion #and this is clearly the response Senshi feared facing if anybody knew what he'd eaten #But Flight 571 like a century later #the survivors were faced with a lot of understanding when rescued #relatively little condemnation and revulsion #by and large commentators acknowledged that they did what they had to do #and sympathized with how difficult and painful it must have been #which is what Senshi gets from his party #Laios wants to figure out the truth because he knows it's hurting Senshi not to know #But at one point Marcille straight up says that none of them would think less of Senshi if he did eat dwarf stew #Okay so this is Marcille 'ardent student of blood magic' Donato #but Chilchuck agrees #anyway I think that would be a particularly interesting conversation to have in a cooking manga #how do you safely eat a dead friend when that's all you have to survive on? #what are the nutritional benefits other than 'better than starving'? #what are the risks? There's prion diseases and all sorts you can get #they write it off as eating the dragon part but they DO spend seven days eating Falin at the end #ARE there any in/famous cannibalism cases in this world? #Do peopel argue about whether or not it's cannibalism if a dwarf eats a tallman? #enquiring minds (mine) want to know