#{banter}

[theslackerjack]

UM, SOURCE?????

fat women STOP WEARING CORSETS NOW!!!!!!!!!!!! that is the DEVIL talking to you!!!!!!!! let ur tummy BREATHE!!!!!!!!

[necromancers-anonymouss]

"Taash does know that I'm a necromancer, too, right?"

[kinascorner]

In Memoriam of the 3 party member system😔, a curated selection of some of my favorite three-way dialogues.

---

100% support the devs on doing what they need to to balance gameplay, and i'm excited to try the new combat system, but I'll miss the surprise additions to chatter.

[boyimjustaloserforyourlove]

Snap Snap Snap

https://www.tumblr.com/boyimjustaloserforyourlove/767338606523301888/snap-snap-snap-pt-2?source=share part two!

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN MY POSTS OR THE NEXT PART IN THE COMMENTS OR ANYWHERE ELSE!

me to their seminal vesicles because i wasn't raised to take shit from no man 💅🏻 also them to you in this smau✉️

my second request!!?! i hope this is to your standards. no Choso and Yuji because I can't see my babies snapping. it can't happen.

you like ? let me know! comments and reblogs and likes are appreciated and give me dopamine!

send requests, I'll probably do them all lol. i hope it is to your liking.

don't worry, both of these will be coming. your vote decides which one comes first

[vim-flam]

@chopssss found it! I got a few details wrong, it was this one:

the only problem with there being a million videos of tmbg concerts out there is that if you forget to bookmark one you'll never find it again.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[nerd-elf]

I decided to take Lucanis to Kal-Sharok and it turns out it was a great choice 🤣🤣🤣

I love these two ❤️

[moonyspride]

regulus: honestly, I am so evil. So full of darkness. I feed off the souls of the living I strike fear into-

remus: you sleep with a teddybear.

regulus: he’s sECOND IN COMMAND IN MY ARMY OF DARKNESS!

[pygmi-says-hi]

writing tips - banter

I LOVE BANTER WE ALL LOVE BANTER HIP HIP HOORAYYYY!!

Banter is a lovely addition to dialogue between characters. It means a lot of different things - sass, genuine insults, flirting....all sorts of options.

But overusing banter can make conversations sound circular. It's a fun 'fluffy' piece of dialogue, but doesn't do the best job conveying plot.

Pedantry vs teasing

Pedantic speech is basically nit-picking. Somebody who can't bear to let anything slide, no matter how small. This is an interesting character trait and one that adds depth, but if it's unintentional it sounds frustrating. Sassy characters are fun, especially when they go off in an inner monologue.

If a character has a quip for everything, it adds a layer of whiny-ness. Sarcasm is a fun way to tease and complain. Constant complaining gets on a reader's nerves after a while. Soon there becomes so much commentary it's hard to dissect what is actually being described.

Unless your OC has no sense of social boundaries, there's usually a break in between jokes to read the room.

How do I know when enough is enough?

Think about the character. If they have that wonderfully sardonic rapport with their peers, that's great! Why do they act like that? Is it a sense of humor? Is there a running joke? When you incorporate the banter, keep it in the confines of those parameters. It'll still enrich the conversation without overwhelming it.

It's a learning curve!!!!!

I like to do it this way:

write the dialogue as banter-y and indulgent as possible. When the scene is finished, I reread and pick out the really funny bits and discard the rest or move it to a different scene.

Sometimes those indulgent character moments help the really good stuff push to the front of your mind. Go for it! You know your story better than anybody else; if it's telling your story the way you want, that's all that matters.

[gleafer]

Another sneak peek at my Buffyverse slams fist first into the Good Omens Gaimanverse comic “Crowley’s Very Bad, No Good Day”.

Full comic lands on my Patreon/Gleafer Jan. 15th!

God I love banter. I could draw bantering all day long. Bantering banter.

Banter.

[revacholthinker]

Gold & jewelry banter by and with Emmrich ✨

[bottom55cs]

"Thanks Osc"

"Osc?"

"Osc! It's my nickname."

[lillotte17]

Jumping on the Veilguard Banter wagon bc I'm back in the Solavellan sauce, but I can't seem to focus long enough to finish anything bigger ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~~

“I can see the wheels turning in that big bald head of yours, Chuckles. What world-ending secrets are you pondering this time?”

“I was merely… Would I be correct in assuming that you are still in contact with former members of the Inquisition?”

“I might be. Why? Looking to liven up your days with another round of mental chess with Tiny? Not sure he’d agree to that. He’s pretty mad about the ‘ripping open the sky again’ thing, although he did think it was funny that you picked Tevinter.”

“No. Thank you. I do not think it likely that the Iron Bull and I could have any sort of conversation that did not end in violence at this point.”

“If you’d prefer, I’m sure I could get Sparkles over here to yell at you about all of this instead. He’s just as mad, but much less likely to try and bury an axe in your skull.”

“I did not ask the question in the interest of having you summon old acquaintances, Varric. I was simply…curious.”

“You can say her name, you know.”

~

“The former Inquisitor-”

“Are we really doing this?”

“…Is she well?”

“How do you think I should answer that question?”

“Honestly, if you are capable.”

“You wound me, Chuckles! I don’t deal in salacious idle gossip.”

“You wrote an entire book about her.”

“I write books about everyone.”

“Varric.”

*sighs* “Look…nothing I could say would make you feel any better. Good or bad, it is what it is. Knowing about it won’t change anything, so why does it matter?”

“She always matters.”

“Could have fooled me.”

~

“I have to ask, is what Varric wrote in his book about you true?”

“Knowing his penchant for peddling exaggerations, half-truths, and blatant falsehoods? Probably not.”

“So, you weren’t madly in love with the former Inquisitor?”

“That is… I have a deep respect for the former Inquisitor, and I am not going to discuss her personal feelings or private affairs.”

“That book has sold enough copies to rival Hard in Hightown at this point, I don’t think anything in there is private anymore. Besides, I was asking about your private affairs, not hers.”

“I am not going to discuss those, either.”

“Oh, so it is true!” *laughs*

[shyjusticewarrior]

Jason: How the hell you spell chauffeur?

Tim: C-h-a-u-f-f-e-u-r.

Jason: Ooh fancy pants rich Mcgee over here! Fuck you.

Duke: Spelling bee ass.

Jason: He gonna give me the definition next.

[mediumgayitalian]

Plink.

“Psst, hey! Nico!”

Plink. Plink.

“Nico! You up?”

Plink.

Plink plink plink. Plink —

“What in the world,” Nico hisses, yanking open his window, “is going — oh.” He blinks. “Will?”

Will grins. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he says, voice not nearly quiet enough for someone who is at direct risk of being devoured. “Thought I’d drop by. Can I come in?”

If Nico were smart, he would say no, actually, it’s like four in the godsdamn morning, go the hell back to your cabin. What is wrong with you.

Instead, he says, “We live in the same neighbourhood, dweeb-face, this is a camp,” and opens his window all the way. Will grins at him, wide and glinting in the dark, and yanks himself in head-first, somersaulting onto the floor and staying there, sprawled on the polished marble floors.

“Hi,” he says again, grin shifting into something more crooked.

Nico breaks away, hiding a smile with rolled eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s ridiculous to want to see you?”

“Before dawn? Yes!”

“Aw.” He settles against the ground, tucking his hands behind his head and letting half lidded eyes trace over Nico’s form, over the sleepy shape of him. Nico shivers. “I was awake, you know. I dreamt of you.”

Cool the fresh hell down, Nico screams at his brain. Out loud, he says, “Shut the fuck up,” and ignores Will’s snickering. How dare he, honestly. For someone who gets clowned as often as he does he is not nearly humble enough. Apollonian genes, indeed.

“What, you don’t dream of me?”

When Will lies, his throat swells up and he breaks out in hives. Nico is at the top of the leaderboard for getting the reaction out of him, with Cecil at a close second and Kayla no slouch in third place. Will is highly manipulable. It’s a good time for everyone around (even Chiron, who is, to his own irritation, lumbering behind at spot #42).

Nico, however, has no such holdups. Nor is he inclined, at any point in time, to fluff up Will’s ego, no matter how he looks when he’s cocky. Nico has self control. Mostly. (Well, at times.)

“Of course not. My subconscious would never do that to me.”

“You’re mean to me, di Angelo.”

“You like it.”

Nico watches, fascinated, as Will’s loudmouth snaps right shut; as his face burns sacred cow right in the low light of the cabin, as he squirms.

“Oh,” he says, gleefully.

“Can it, di Angelo —”

“Oh ho ho ho —”

“I’m gonna curse your ass with haiku disorder, do you know what that is, ‘cause I’ll show you, dickhead —”

Nico crouches down and pokes Will hard in the cheek, and he doesn’t even flinch — he just goes redder. Nico guffaws.

“Dude! Have some — dignity, oh my —”

“Shut up! Shut up! You’re so horrible, gods, I am leaving —”

“Oh, come here.” Will is dragged easily from the windowsill, because he is a big fat faker. There are actual claw marks on the infirmary door from the last time Austin brought Nyssa to drag him out.

“I don’t wanna stay where I’m unwanted,” he laments, bouncing on the bed when Nico shoves him. He takes the inch Nico gives him and burrows deeply under the blankets, throwing a melodramatic hand over his eyes. Nico rolls his own eyes, hoping if he rolls then hard enough Will can tell regardless of whether or not he’s looking, and crawls in after him. He makes sure to kick him at least thrice. “I can take a hint, you know.”

“Medical arts were the wrong career path for you. It’s not too late, you know. I’m sure you could shadow Nicholas Cage or something —”

“I am going to kill you with hammers —”

Nico evades gus clumsy attacks with ease, snickering as he pins him to the bed, smirking when he gives up fighting with a huff.

“I’m glad you came when you couldn’t sleep,” Nico says, after a moment for them to catch their breath. “But the point of that agreement is for you to then shut the fuck up and sleep. Here. So.”

“I’m trying,” Will grumbles. “But you’re being mean and it’s crushing my soul. How am I supposed to sleep with a crushed soul?”

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay! Put the pillow away, jeez, I’m sorry. Meanie.”

Nico rolls his eyes again, settling down next to him. Will takes longer to settle, because he’s annoying, but right before Nico is ready to smack the shit out of him again, he calms down, burrowing stilling once he’s turned on his side.

“…Thank you.”

“Whatever, goober. Go to sleep.”

The smile is obvious in his voice. “Goodnight, Nico.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

“In the morning can we —”

“Goodnight, William.”

“Okay, okay. Night.” He pauses. “Love you.”

Nico shoved his grinning face into his pillow. “Love you too.”

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's still a couple miles from home when the van dies. The engine gives a few pitiful putters before groaning and rolling to a definitive stop. He drops his head to the steering wheel, letting out a groan of his own.

He was at the Hideout, it's like 1am, and he can't sleep out in the van, not after last time, when Powell found him.

He's walking home. The shortest route is to cut through the woods, which he hates, but the moon is out and there's still some leftover late-August mugginess in the air, so it's fine. It's fine. Not like there's anything to be scared of in the forests of Hawkins, Indiana.

He's close to home when he trips on an exposed root, scrapes his hand against the sticks and rocks on the forest floor.

"Fuck, shit," he mutters. In the weak light of the moon, he sees the gleaming red seeping from the cut on his palm. It stings. He swipes it on his jeans, keeps going.

The nature sounds go quiet all at once, like someone turned them off, and goosebumps raise on the back of his neck.

Further into the woods, off to his left, something lets out a high-pitched chitter, nothing like he's ever heard before. His heart rate skyrockets, feet moving faster now. There's a flashlight in the van he wishes he thought to bring with him; why hadn't he grabbed it?

He hears the snap and crackle of branches and dead leaves under heavy feet, the crashing through the woods growing louder as the thing moves closer. In the dark of the trees he sees a massive, hulking shape, certainly not human, running straight at him.

Eddie stumbles back--

A dark shape leaps from the woods to his right, a strangled scream slips from his throat but--

It's a...dog?

That doesn't make sense, it's too big, too--

It positions itself in front of Eddie, thick growl rumbling straight through his bones.

This close, he can see that it's a wolf, but that's wrong too. There aren't wolves in Indiana, and it's still too big, bigger than any wolf he's ever seen on Wild Kingdom.

It snarls, creeps towards the other creature still lurking between the trees.

He's terrified to move, to get the attention of either of these things, but then the wolf turns, illuminated in the moon glow. Its coat is thick, chestnut and light brown. Its eyes are bright hazel with flecks of gold, clear and intelligent. His stomach swoops, but not with fear.

It whips its attention away, but it's pressing against him, pushing him back towards civilization.

A fleshy, wet humanoid leg emerges from the tree line and the wolf makes a terrible noise as it lunges. He takes off running.

His body wasn't made for sprinting, but he keeps going until he reaches the trailer, until he throws himself through the front door. He stays there, leaning against it, until he stops shaking. He needs a joint, like ten of them, needs to forget this night ever happened, because what the fuck.

Later, when he's so high he can't move, he can't stop thinking about the wolf's eyes, that there was something weirdly familiar about them.

The next morning, he hardly remembers any of it.

When he bothers to go to school the next week, Steve Harrington says hi to him, even though they've never spoken before.

He doesn't go back into the woods.

---

Steve keeps saying hi to him, like it's normal for them. Then again, Steve now spends most of his time with this junior from band, Robin Buckley. Anyway, who the hell knows what's normal anymore.

There's this one night in early November, he's smoking on the porch, giddy from finishing a song, smiling up at the full moon.

And he's so happy, elated, electrified by creativity, that he forgets about the woods, finds himself staring right into them.

A pair of golden eyes stare back.

He's not afraid.

That same swooping sensation from before grips his stomach, doesn't let up.

The wolf steps forward, not out of the trees, just closer. Without thought, he mimics the move.

There's a soft rustle of brush and the eyes blink out. Eddie keeps staring, transfixed. His heart's speeding but not with fear.

---

By January, he's actual, real life friends with Steve Harrington. They're hanging out like that's a regular thing they do. He supposes, by now, it is.

He also meets the gaggle of eighth graders that follow Harrington around like ducklings. When they find out he runs a dnd club, they become obsessed with him too.

He doesn't see the wolf again.

---

Eventually, he forgets all about why he's supposed to avoid the woods.

He plans a deal at Skull Rock, thoughtless, and once he's there he's not scared at all. The sun is high in the sky, the air warm, birds swoop and sing and insects chirp.

Eddie clamors up the rock, pulls his notebook and a pen out of his back pocket.

He only means to stay for a little bit, maybe an hour or two, but it's so nice out, and you can't really blame a guy if his eyes get a little heavy. If maybe he doesn't quite try to fight the urge to sleep.

When he wakes up, it's full dark.

The moon is out, stars bright, but the birds are gone and so is the heat of the day. He shivers, and it's got very little to do with the cold. If he runs, he can make it back to the van in five minutes, probably less.

A creeping chitter crackles through the air and the night bugs go quiet.

Eddie curls his knees into his chest. He remembers now, why he needed to stay out of the forest.

There's a shadow that separates itself from the cover of the underbrush. It moves in silence, not even a stick or a leaf cracking where it steps. It stops in front of the rock, lips pulled back to reveal long, deadly teeth. It's growling softly.

The wolf.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says. Doesn't know why he's talking to it. "I lost track of time, I--I'm sorry."

The wolf tosses its head, annoyed, and again he's struck by the odd familiarity of the gesture. It turns its attention from him, pacing along the clearing, Its body carefully placed between Eddie and whatever is lurking in the deeper forest.

Hours pass that way, the wolf's focus never faltering even when nothing appears. The sky brightens, and the danger doesn't seem so immediate. The wolf lays down at the base of the rock formation, and Eddie finally lets himself relax too. He falls asleep between one blink and the next.

A bright beam of sunlight hits him just across the eyes, dragging him back to consciousness. There's a hazy second where he doesn't remember anything about where he is or what happened, but it's kind of hard to ignore what sleeping on a big rock does to your body.

He also realizes--he's not alone. There's someone on the rock with him. Someone sturdy and radiating heat, their body nestled tight against his.

Eddie springs up, heart racing, to find--

Steve Harrington. Naked Steve Harrington. Curled up with him on Skull Rock. What the fuck

He thinks he's going to choke on his tongue.

Steve is gorgeous. So fucking hot. All his sun-kissed skin on display, the constellations of freckles and moles, and--god, he's just a little bit hard. And Eddie gets it, okay, he knows it just happens sometimes, but Steve's a little hard, and perfectly pink at the tip, and Eddie--

He pulls the leather jacket from around his own shoulders, places it over Steve's waist, but even though he's careful--gentle--Steve stirs, nose wrinkling.

Eddie draws away, nervous, as Steve blinks to wakefulness, staring right at him.

"Wha--" he wipes the sleep from eyes his and Eddie watches as understanding dawns on Steve's handsome face. "Oh. Fuck."

And Eddie, he's putting it together, he thinks. He thinks--the familiar golden hazel eyes and the annoyed shake of the head and--it's not possible. It's not. But how is Steve here right now? Why is he naked? What reason besides--

"It's you?" He breathes, doesn't even really mean to say it aloud.

Steve gives one sharp nod, looks away.

"You're a werewolf?" Eddie's voice breaks.

"Shu--it's not--I'm--" Steve's shoulders sag. "Yeah, I guess I'm a werewolf."

"Holy shit, Steve. Holy. Shit. Are there more? Jesus Christ."

"I'm the only one that I know of."

"But-- Weren't you bitten? Or--don't tell me--were you born like this?"

"Um. I was bitten by a dog that seemed completely normal. Obviously--" he gestures to himself. "Something was going on there. We think--"

"Sorry, we? There's a we?"

"Oh, well, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan know. So do Dustin and the rest of the kids. Joyce Byers. Hopper--"

"The POLICE CHIEF knows you're a WEREWOLF," Eddie yells. It startles some birds in a nearby tree, making both he and Steve flinch.

Steve's ears go red. "Hop, he's not--not bad. We--he's helped us out a couple times. Um, there's also a doctor? Who knows? He works for the government and he's trying to figure out why I'm, you know."

"What the fuck, Steve. Like. What the fuck? A government doctor knows you're a werewolf?"

"It's um. You've heard the stories about something being wrong with Hawkins?" Eddie nods. "They're not just stories."

It's a lot to take in. That Hawkins really is cursed, that Steve really is a werewolf, that--

"So, that was actually a--a monster? In the woods? And you--you were, what, looking out for me?"

"Well, I wouldn't need to if you stopped going into the goddamn forest!" There's that annoyed head shake.

"I didn't mean to!'

"What about yesterday??"

"I didn't mean to fall asleep!"

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!"

"I'm sorry!" He throws his hands up. "You could've told me there was a monster."

Steve glares. "Yeah, cause that's an easy conversation. 'Hey, Ed, just so you know, monsters are real. I'm kinda one of them. And some of them in the woods around Hawkins want to eat you'."

"It would've been helpful! And that night, at the trailer, you were--?"

"Making sure you were okay."

"But. Why?"

"Don't you feel it?"

And Eddie doesn't even have to ask what it is. "Yeah, I--yeah."

Their eyes lock and his stomach goes all warm and swoopy. Eddie forces a laugh, forces himself to look away. "So, being a werewolf made you gay?"

Steve coughs out a choked sound. "No, I--no. I was--before."

Honestly, this information is more shocking than Steve being a werewolf. "But--King Steve. All those girls?"

"Robin thinks I was--um--what's it called? Like using that to avoid that I'm also attracted to, you know, dudes. "

"And--it's--Sorry, but this is insane. It's me? That you like?"

Steve laughs. "Why is it easer to believe that I'm a werewolf?"

"I don't--I guess it's cause I've seen you as a werewolf."

"To be fair, you've also seen me, who is gay."

"That's--that's--" Eddie splutters. "Fair."

"Do you remember performing in that talent show?" Steve asks.

"In junior high? Yeah."

"I thought you were really--you did a good job."

"Oh. You--huh." Eddie hides his face in his hands, tries to smother the laugh, but it's impossible.

"Don't--" Steve shoves at him, "Don't laugh! I--you were cute! Goofy! I thought you had nice hands!"

"That's all it takes?" He smirks, can't help but be pleased that Steve's had a crush on him all this time, that it's always been mutual.

"You were nice," Steve says. He's serious now. "You were always kind."

He doesn't know what to say to that, how to hide his growing blush. "So, your werewolf senses know that you like me," he teases.

Steve's neck is read now too. "Um. Yeah? I--yeah. Robin says it's fera--feram--that I'm drawn to your scent"

"Oh, pheromones. Oh." And it's all sort of hitting him now, that this is real, that Steve--he and Steve--oh. "I, uh, like you too, if that wasn't obvious."

"I know." Steve taps the tip of his nose. "I can smell it."

"That's--oh god--that's. So embarrassing. All this time??"

"Only this year"

"That doesn't make it better! Oh my god."

"You've got it so bad," Steve sing-songs, pulls Eddie closer.

"I can't believe the werewolf of Hawkins has a supernatural crush on me."

"Werewolf of--no, absolutely not. You are not calling me that." Steve swats at him.

"Oooh, yes, I am." He pushes Steve back.

"Do you know what will happen if Dustin hears that?"

"Unfortunately for you, that's not a deterrent."

"You're going to be so much trouble--" Steve moves to grab him, Eddie's jacket slipping down his torso. "Oh shit, I'm naked."

"You are very much naked." Eddie can't help his wide grin.

"Don't--don't be gross about it."

"Oh, so you think you'd be normal about waking up to the guy you have a massive crush on naked next to you?"

"I--I--" Steve goes crimson. "Shut-up!"

Eddie giggles, leans into him, and Steve twines their fingers together.

"Okay, but let's get out of here? There's only so long I can tolerate being naked sitting on a rock."

They climb down, Eddie valiantly not oogling Steve the entire time.

"So, do you only turn at the full moon? Does it hurt? How did everyone find out? You have to tell me about the other monsters. Are there vampires? Is anyone else I know a monster? Oh my god, is Robin a witch?"

Steve sighs, can't quite hide the grin pulling at his lips. "I'm not answering all that."

"Steve!"

"I've signed a bunch of NDAs."

"A bunch of--what the hell? Steve! You can't just--"

Steve grabs his hands, squeezes. "I'll tell you. All of it. Promise. Just, not right now?"

Eddie bites his lip in thought, tries not to notice Steve staring at his mouth. "Ugh, fine. But I won't forget you owe me explanations. Plural!"

"Yeah, yeah." Steve rolls his eyes, tugs Eddie forward.

They walk a few steps in silence before Eddie belts out, "Aroooooo, werewolves of Hawkins!" before taking off through the trees.

"Eddie, seriously?" Steve calls after him, only to be met by the echo of his laughter. "Are you really trying to outrun a werewolf right now? I mean, honestly."

"Catch me if you can, sweetheart."

Steve's laugh is a little bit like a bark as he starts to chase.