#I feel so lucky i got to read it and be part of this AWESOME team

[seanchaidh7]

Rich from tender care

Art post - Stranger Things Big Bang 2023

RICH FROM TENDER CARE - A Stranger Things - Steddie Fic

I got paired with @glorious-spoon for the Stranger Things Big Bang and was thrilled to have such a fantastic, friendly and talented writer!

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you and Bradley make a mess and clean it up, your first wedding anniversary is in the books. There are so many changes going on, it's hard to keep track of everything. But some things seem like they will always stay the same, like the love you feel for him.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, cum play, food play, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

The sound of the ocean and the twinkling of the stars in the night sky were the only things Bradley recognized in the dark besides your body. You were on his lap, rolling your hips slowly against him, teasing him with your warmth and your voice as your lips met his ear. 

"You're the best husband, and soon you'll be the best daddy. The Nugget and I decided we're going to keep you around."

Bradley groaned softly as he rubbed his palm along your belly. "Yeah, you ruined that for yourself as soon as you fed me. I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

You laughed softly before pulling your lips away from the side of his neck. "I forgot to ask. What's in the bakery box?"

"Huh?" he grunted in response as you pressed your soft thigh against his erection through his jeans. He thought he was supposed to know what you were talking about. It sounded familiar. A bakery box. But your hand was unzipping his pants now, and he was a lost cause.

"The bakery box, Roo," you whispered, voice laced with amusement. "On the backseat?"

"Oh," he sighed as you stroked him. He couldn't read your expression in the darkness, but he knew you must be smiling. "I got you a cake. A confetti cake for our anniversary."

"You did?" You sounded delighted as you added, "I want to see it."

Bradley let his head tip back against the side of the interior of the Bronco. You already pulled your hand back out of his pants and started crawling away from him. "Sweetheart," he whined. "I thought I was just about to get lucky."

He felt cold where your warmth had just been, and he let himself be annoyed for a few seconds until you softly squealed, "Ouch!"

"Shit, what happened?" he asked, realizing he wasn't sure exactly where you had crawled off to. He put one leg up to block the open tailgate while he dug around in his pocket next to his hard cock for his phone.

As soon as he turned on the flashlight, he realized you were already looking over the back of the seat, digging around under the blanket to find the cake. "I pinched my finger. I'm fine," you muttered. "Let me have your phone."

He handed it to you before he flopped down onto his back. You used the flashlight to locate the dome light as well, and soon that was shining directly into Bradley's eyes as he palmed himself for some relief. "Can't the cake wait until we get home?"

You turned and looked down at him over your shoulder with a little pout on your lips. "But I'm hungry again."

He would never deny you anything you wanted. As he got to his knees and scooted over next to you, he kissed your cheek. "Did you look at it yet?" Bradley reached down onto the seat and carefully opened the box to reveal the pretty, round cake with white icing and rainbow sprinkles. Then you started laughing. Apparently, in his horny state, he'd also forgotten what he had the baker write on it.

Happy First Anniversary. Thanks for marrying me and having awesome tits. I love you.

"Bradley!" you wheezed. "You made someone write that on a cake!"

He grabbed you up without putting too much pressure on your belly and said, "It's all true." He kissed down the side of your neck and back up to your ear as your laughter turned to a soft moan. "Now, can we turn off the lights and get back to where we left off?"

Your stomach growled so loudly as you met his eyes, it was almost comical. "I'm sorry, but I'm just really hungry, and I think Rose the Nugget is, too."

Bradley was absolute putty in your hands as soon as you used her name. He kissed you sweetly and whispered, "Then let me make sure my girls are well fed."

He guided you over the pavement in the darkness and got you buckled into the passenger seat. Then he opened the back door and said, "You know, I never ever let anyone else eat in the Bronco before you. I still don't even eat in here." He cut into the cake and put a slice on one of the paper plates he brought along. "But apparently I have no boundaries when it comes to my wife and my daughter."

When you turned around, he handed the piece of cake and a fork up to you, and you beamed back at him. "Thanks, Daddy."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get his body under control so he could drive home. He closed the back door and walked around the front of the Bronco. You were smiling and licking the frosting from the fork when he climbed in with his pants still unzipped. He was still almost painfully hard, and he was desperately praying there was still hope for some relief on the horizon.

Bradley drove carefully around the orange cones and out onto the road that ran along the main strip of Coronado. The indecent little sounds you were making had him jealous of the cake, and then you held out your fork to him. "This is so good. You need to try it."

"I told you I don't eat in the Bronco," he muttered before opening his mouth wide for you to feed it to him. "Holy hell. Gimme some more."

"Right?!" You fed him another bite and another one. By the time he was parking in the driveway, there was icing in his mustache, and he was still unbearably horny.

Bradley handed you the keys, kissed your lips so hard you gasped, and said, "Go unlock the front door." He watched you scamper up the walkway as he grabbed the bakery box from the backseat before following you inside. "Now get undressed," he said, giving you a firm smack on your ass that left you biting your lip as you looked at him. "I'm serious, Baby Girl. Take it all off and wait for me in the kitchen."

"He's so demanding," you said, either to yourself or to the baby, and regardless he laughed as he pretended to throw a treat out the back door so Tramp would go outside. Then he was right on you with the cake in his hands as you pulled your dress over your head and let it drop to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your little Mrs. Bradshaw panties. 

"Those are some awesome tits," he whispered, setting the cake down and running his hands up the soft swell of your belly and all the way up to stroke your nipples.

"You're obsessed right now," you told him. You weren't wrong. He was about to bring his lips down to play with you, but he narrowed his eyes and reached for the cake instead. "What are you doing?" you gasped as he dunked his fingers into the icing before spreading it all over your breasts.

"I'm still a little hungry, too," he murmured, tracing your nipples slowly with his messy fingertips until you were trying to grind yourself against him. He slipped his thigh between yours, and you moaned his name as he brought his lips down to taste the exquisite icing on your perfect skin. Everything was sweet and warm as he buried his face in there, licking and sucking on you until you were as far gone as he was.

With your arms around his neck and your pussy rubbing against him, you begged for it. "I need you to fuck me. Please!"

He couldn't say no to you on a regular day, but especially not on your anniversary. He spun you around, pulled your satin panties to the side and bent you over a little bit over the counter. He got his cock free, and with a snap of his hips, he thrust himself inside you, and he was rewarded with his name echoing off the kitchen walls.

"Feel good?" he grunted as he slipped one hand in the front of your panties and squeezed your gorgeous breasts with the other. 

"So good," you whispered as he rocked himself into you a little harder. 

He pressed his nose to the back of your neck and inhaled the smell of your skin and the icing which he got everywhere. "I thought we'd have slow and sexy anniversary sex. I didn't know I'd end up fucking you hard over the kitchen counter."

"Blame it on the cake," you whined, reaching for his hand which was on your tits and guiding his sticky fingers up to your lips. Bradley had no idea how he was still going. You'd had him wound up all night. And the way you were circling each digit with your tongue was so fucking hot.

When he pinched your clit, you bucked back against him. When he did it again, he soothed you with some slow circles, and he knew you were getting close. He could feel you starting to clench him a little tighter as your moaning got louder. You sucked on his fingers while your pussy treated his cock to your orgasm.

"God, you feel good," he gasped, fucking you through your highest peak. But he still had some left in the tank. You seemed to be a little surprised as you looked at him over your shoulder, and he was sure his eyes were wild and his face was red. 

You spun to look at him as he stared down at his hard cock, bobbing excitedly and glistening from your wetness. You took his chin in your hand and kissed him on the lips. "Is it my turn to have a little fun?"

Bradley nodded, because he didn't even care what you did right now, he knew he was going to love it. This time you were the one coating up your fingers with icing, and you jerked your hand up and down his length while he gripped the edge of the counter. Just the idea of the confection mixed with the flavor of your pussy had him bucking into your hand. "Let me taste it," he whimpered, and your bright eyes grew a little wider, but you brought your hand up to your own mouth first. "Please," he begged, watching you lick your palm.

"Oh my god," you gasped, eyes drifting closed as you dipped your index finger between your lips. 

"Please," he asked one more time, afraid he might just cum all over your body and the floor. You looked up at him and reached out to part his lips with your thumb, and then you carefully placed your index and middle fingers on his tongue. He sucked at the flavor and swiped his tongue between your fingers. He swallowed it down, convinced that this combination was one of the best things he had ever enjoyed in his life.

He cleaned off your whole hand as you watched in awe, and when you realized he was still hard, you used his help to get yourself kneeling on the floor in front of him. Bradley lasted exactly eight seconds with your tongue circling his cock while you licked at the icing and sucked on him. "Fuck!" he barked, tapping the back of your throat as he came. "Holy shit." Then you had the audacity to show him the mess he made on your tongue before you swallowed him down.

"You taste very good mixed with icing too, Roo."

Bradley was so fucking in love with you and everything you did. He would marry you a hundred times over just to get all of the sweet and filthy moments with you. "Why don't you get back up here and let me try it for myself?"

You were all too happy for him to help you to your feet so he could slip his tongue between your lips. You were absolutely right.

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

When you woke up on Sunday, you were a little sore. Bradley was still sound asleep, and he looked exhausted himself. The Nugget was rolling around on your bladder, and you had to quickly shimmy walk to the bathroom. Your husband did a bit of a number on you in the kitchen with the rough sex. 

You reached for the toilet paper and mumbled to yourself, "Maybe he was right. Maybe anniversary sex is supposed to be a little calmer?"

"Blame it on the cake, Sweetheart." You looked up as Bradley strolled into the bathroom completely naked. His cock even looked impressive when he was soft, and his hair was wild from the way you'd been running your fingers through it before you fell asleep last night. He grunted as he yawned. He was perfect to you.

"I can't believe we've been married for a year," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead as you sat on the toilet. This was probably peak domesticity right here, and it made you smile.

"How's my Nugget?" Bradley asked before kissing your forehead once more.

"Almost made me wet the bed," you told him as you stood up. "I slept very soundly last night, but she woke me up by thumping on my bladder."

His brown eyes lit up as he put his hands underneath your shirt. "Is she still thumping?" You knew immediately that he was able to feel her as a smile bloomed on his lips. "Hey, Rose. It's Daddy."

"So that's really her name? We're definitely going with that?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, eyes closed as his palm circled your belly button. 

You kissed his cheek and then his temple. "Your excitement always makes me even more excited."

When he patted your belly again, he asked, "Are you going to brunch with Cam and Maria?"

"Yeah, but I don't need to be there for another hour. Do you want me to make you breakfast first?"

Relief filled his features as he turned on the sink and looked in the mirror. "Please. Then I'm going to try to finish up the playset. And don't forget Bradley Ross is coming over after work tomorrow." Bradley Ross. Bradley Ross. The name was familiar, but you couldn't place it. "The contractor? For the attic?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Bradley Ross," you told him, having completely forgotten that your house was about to become a construction zone. "I hope he can finish it before my parents come out for Christmas."

"That's the goal," Bradley muttered as he looked at his hair. "We can throw them upstairs so I can do whatever I want to you in our room all night long. The separation will be key." You snorted as you started to get your toothbrush ready, and then he turned to you and said, "Nat commented on my gray hairs the other day."

He looked perhaps a little bit concerned. "Did she?" One thing you really appreciated about your husband's best friend was the way she picked on him. It was good for him to have a friend who gave him shit. It probably helped build character in him, similar to the way Cam usually gave you a hard time. But you wanted to make sure his feelings weren't hurt, especially not about his. "What did she say?"

He shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "That it's getting a little noticeable. At my temples."

"It's so fucking sexy," you told him, reaching up with your fingers and running them through his hair. "God, Roo. Women eat this shit up."

"They do?" he asked, perplexed.

"Oh, definitely," you promised. "A handsome man with some gray hairs? Jesus, I'm going to have to start keeping a closer eye on you when we go out to the bar."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "You'll have to do nothing of the sort."

"That's right," you whispered with a smile. "Your sexy hair belongs to me, Bradley."

He stood behind you while you brushed your teeth, and he kissed your neck. "I'm afraid you're stuck with all of this."

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

You were sitting in the kitchen after work on Monday, eating a sliced up apple that you were dipping into hot sauce while you talked to your parents over FaceTime.

"We could come out the Tuesday before Christmas," your mom said for the fourth time.

"I already told you, just let me know when you're coming, and we'll pick you up from the airport," you said, also for the fourth time.

Your dad was already in his pajamas since it was three hours later on the east coast, and you could tell your mom was annoying him as much as she was annoying you. "I sincerely hope you eat a real meal besides that," she said, looking at your snack in disgust.

You wanted to roll your eyes. You were about to call Bradley in from the backyard where he was throwing a tennis ball for Tramp so you could make him deal with her for a little bit. "I'll eat a real meal later, mom." Just then, there was a knock at the door and you hopped up. "Oops, that's probably the contractor. I'll talk to you later! Bye, love you!"

Saved by the distraction, you shouted out the back door for your husband to come in. And that's when you met Bradley Ross. He kind of reminded you of your own Bradley, just a little bit older. When the three of you ended up in the attic space, he looked around at it like it was the most beautiful diamond in the rough he'd ever seen, when in reality it looked like a disaster that your husband demolished. 

"Wow," he told you, measuring along each wall. "This is going to come together perfectly. What a beautiful space. I'm sure you'll cherish it."

"Right," your husband told the other Bradley while you tried not to laugh. "Look, having a cherished attic is great and all, but we just really need a space for my wife's parents when they come out to stay, especially after the baby is born."

"You'll have both," he promised.

Your husband rubbed lazy circles on your back as you wrote out a check for the deposit on the kitchen island and listened to Bradley Ross go over the detailed plans. Two more bedrooms and a full bathroom? Part of you couldn't believe there was enough room up there to accommodate all of that, but you would just have to trust this man's life changing vision.

You handed him the check and took his business card. "I'll be back on Wednesday to start the project," he said as you entered his number into your phone.

Once he was gone, you looked up at Bradley and said, "We should probably get a Christmas tree soon. And maybe some lights? I'm used to us going to my parents' house. We never decorated before."

He chuckled. "I haven't decorated for Christmas since my mom died, but if you want to, then I guess I'll get into the holiday spirit."

"You better get used to it," you informed him as he tugged you toward the bedroom across the hallway from yours which would become the nursery. "After Rose is born, you're going to need to go overboard with it."

"I love going overboard," he told you, as if you didn't already know that about him. "Speaking of which... all of the stuff we ordered on Friday got delivered today. Wanna take a look?"

You squealed with excitement as you saw that he had opened up the boxes and set everything on the floor in the empty room. "Roo! The crib bedding is adorable!" When you went to kneel on the floor, he insisted on helping you get down comfortably. That's when you opened the bedding and ran your hand over the pastel airplanes. The fabric was soft, and your eyes got a little misty as you imagined your baby snuggled up on them.

Bradley knelt down next to you and kissed your cheek. "I was thinking your dad and I could put the crib together when they come out in a few weeks? I know how much he likes working on little projects like that."

You threw yourself into his arms so quickly, he grunted in response. "He would love that, Bradley. He would absolutely love that." And now it was too late to try to get your hormones under control again as you started sobbing in his arms. 

He kissed your ear and whispered, "That will give me time to paint in here while you're out of the house. Maybe you and Nat can go see a movie and go shopping or something. I don't want the paint fumes to bother you since this room is so close to our bedroom."

"You're so fucking considerate." You hugged him tighter and straddled his legs, and soon he was on the floor underneath you as you both laughed. "Can we start calling it the nursery? Rosie's nursery?"

"That's music to my ears, Baby Girl. And you know what? I also kind of feel like picking out a Christmas tree now."

"Yeah?" you asked in excitement.

He nodded up at you and let his hand slip down to your belly. "Yeah. How about we go look at paint colors and trees? I want an enormous one that looks like it's covered in snow." He gave you a little shrug and said, "You know, since we're hardy east coast people."

"And we're having a hardy east coast baby."

The two of you ended up at Home Depot until they were closing. Bradley picked out an eight foot tall tree and string lights, and you decided to ask your parents to bring out some of their ornaments with them. You also had approximately fifty little paint samples in your hand while you watched Bradley awkwardly shove the tree into the back of your red Bronco.

"I'm leaning toward this lavender? Or maybe a light gray? Blue could be nice though, so it looks like the sky."

"Let's hang them up in Rosie the Nugget's nursery for a few days before we decide," he crooned as he buckled you in.

You already thought you might melt onto the floor as you ate a little snack while he drove home, and then you realized he would soon have someone else to buckle in. "Bradley," you mumbled around your granola bar. "I can't tell if I'm horny, emotional or just starving again, but the way I need you to install car seats in both Broncos while shirtless is absolutely essential to my wellbeing."

He chuckled and said, "I'm certain I can do that for you."

You crunched through the rest of your granola bar in contentment.

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

The month of December brought about a routine of sorts that Bradley was kind of in love with. You were just about to start your third trimester, and it seemed as though your belly was growing noticeably every day now. You came home from work so horny most days, the two of you ended up sneaking off to your locked bedroom for a quickie while Bradley Ross worked his magic upstairs. Then inevitably there was a more leisurely round of sex before bed where more time could be spent admiring your perfectly round belly and delicious tits. 

"Which day are your parents flying out again?" he asked you as he peeled your underwear slowly down your legs leaving your soaking wet pussy bare for him. 

"The twenty-first," you whimpered as he stroked you and kissed along your tattoo. "Can we talk about something besides my parents while you're down there?"

"Sure," he replied smoothly. "How about you tell me what you want for Christmas?"

"Roo," you whined as he licked your clit to your exact personal preference. "I want a million orgasms."

He smirked with your clit between his lips and said, "Already wrapped and under the tree for you. What else?"

Your hands tangled in his hair as he worked you up. You were babbling incoherently so he intentionally slowed his tongue, and you started to panic. "Everything I want is for the baby or the nursery! But maybe we can go on a little babymoon trip?" 

Your eyes were wild as you were looking at him over your belly, begging him to keep going. But honestly, your idea sounded pretty great, and he was going to look into it. "Anything you want, Sweetheart. You get to have it all." He proved it to you by letting you have one of the million orgasms early.

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

Oof, these two are really enjoying her pregnancy hormones and her cravings. Up next we have a California Christmas with Roo's in-laws, and honestly so much more. Thanks for reading! As always, if there's something you'd like to see in this series, shoot me a message! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 7

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[megamindsecretlair]

Sit Back and Unwind

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI., multiple uses of derogatory names and slight daddy kink. You are in charge of your own reading experience! Intentional use of AAVE. Porn without plot. Cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male receiving) derogatory language, possession kink, size kink, all consensual. Sorry if I miss any others!

Summary: As you grease Tyrone's scalp, he talks you into giving in to him and your insane chemistry.

Word Count: 1,688k

A/N: I'm going to shut my comp down for the weekend 'cause I am feral and I have nothing to say for myself. Just had an image of greasing that man's scalp and it ran away from me. Also gonna get zooted and watch the movie for the 3rd time so far. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers.

Tyrone sat with his broad shoulders in between your legs as you combed through his hair. The living room was hot and stuffy, even with your windows open and a box fan blowing. The TV played a basketball game because Tyrone didn’t want to watch one of your “wack-ass Lifetime movies”.

You moved his head as you combed through his thick, coarse hair. You parted a section and ran grease through it. Tyrone’s hands began to rub your exposed legs. “Boy stop,” you said and parted another section.

“When you gonna give me a chance?” He asked.

“Don’t bring that shit up right now,” you said and giggled.

“C’mon. I’ll make you feel good.” His hands continued to roam. His hands were rough and calloused like he been workin’ hard. You licked your lips and breathed deeply. Your attraction to this man was insane.

“You know why, Tyrone. You lucky I’m even doing your hair right now.” 

“C’moooon. I told you I ain’t even messing with nobody right now. I want you,” he said. He looked back at you so you could look into his molten brown eyes.

“Yeah? And how many bitches messin’ with you?” You turned his head and continued to grease his scalp. 

“You know I’ll have your legs shakin’ while I’m in them guts. That’s why you don’t want to give me a chance,” he said and sucked his teeth.

“I am not finna play with you!” You laughed. You laughed but you knew he was telling the truth. You heard the stories about Tyrone’s big dick. Hell, you didn’t even need the stories. Just from the way that muthafucka walk, you knew he’d have you speaking in tongues.

But you didn’t need some random little girl blowing up your phone at 3am once word got out that you fucked Tyrone. You were not prepared to throw hands every time you ran up to the hair shop.

“Why not? I’m trynna play with you.” 

You rolled your eyes and continued to part his hair. When you didn’t answer, he leaned forward and half turned on the floor. He looked you up and down, licking his juicy lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said. 

Your nipples pebbled and you knew he probably noticed through your flimsy tank. It was hot for entirely different reasons. He turned more until he was completely facing you. His hands rubbed your thick thighs as he kept eye contact. Your breathing turned shaky. 

“Just let me play with you. You want me to, don’t you?” 

You didn’t protest as his hands went further up. His thumbs pressed into your inner thighs and you bit your lip to keep from moaning. He found some kind of ache because he zeroed in on it, continuing to press it and massage out the knot.

He moved in between your legs, spreading them further. He unbuttoned your shorts and opened them and smirked at your panties. 

“Let me take care of that,” he said.

You leaned forward, intending to push him away. Instead, his lips descended on yours. His warm, wet tongue pressed against yours. As he kissed you, he worked your shorts off. You broke apart just long enough to lean up and get the shorts off your hips. 

He moved your panties to the side and dipped his thumb into your pussy. He hummed low in the back of his throat discovering how wet you were.

“You were just gonna sit here like this and not tell me?” He asked, his lips still pressed against yours. 

“We shouldn’t even be doing this,” you murmured. You were trying to be smart. To say all the right things. But then his thumb started to move, searching for and finding your swollen clit.

“Don’t lie to me. You want this dick. And I want to give it to you,” he said. 

“Tyrone…”

His thumb moved in tight, small circles and you started to moan. Shit. He played you like a fiddle, immediately finding what makes you weak. He moved his lips to your jaw and then to your neck, nibbling.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

“Stop fightin’ me, girl.” He licked your neck. While one hand rubbed your clit, his other hand grabbed the other side of your neck. “Let me feed you this dick.” 

You moaned and dropped your head back against the couch. Your body convulsed and moved. His body heat was oppressive. 

Your arousal tightened your belly and you cried as you got closer and closer. Your nails dug into his forearms. He stopped his hand.

“Yo, what the fuck?!” 

He tilted his head. “Beg me for that shit,” he said. 

You grunted. “Fuck you, Tyrone!” 

He squeezed your neck and pulled you closer. He stuck his thumb in your mouth and you tasted your juices on his big fingers. You moaned and sucked and he watched you, almost indifferently. His nostrils flared. 

“Look at you. Can’t help yourself. Beg me to cum,” he said.

You were still so close. You didn’t want to lose it. “Please,” you moaned around his finger.

“I can’t hear you.” 

“Please, Tyrone. Please, let me cum,” you said. You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded. You didn’t care to hold on to some bullshit morals. You’d deal with the crackheads sprung on his dick. You just wanted to cum. 

He yanked his thumb out of your mouth and returned it to your clit. Your spit mixed with your desire and you returned to moaning. “That’s my girl,” he growled.

“Shit,” you cried and finally came. How did this fucker know? Your legs shook and squeezed his waist as you came. 

“Lookin’ so fuckin’ pretty cumming for me,” he said as he watched you.

You panted as you calmed down. Your body was on fire. Sweat trickled down from your temple, under your boobs, and down your back. Somehow it wasn’t enough. You had an ache deep inside that wasn’t satisfied. 

Tyrone stood up and unbuttoned his dickies, pulling it down just far enough to release himself. He stroked his plump dick, squeezing the base and then down to the gleaming tip. 

“Get it wet for me,” he commanded.

You stared at it. Shit. The stories didn’t do him justice. You could see why he had girls cocksprung. 

“Now.” 

You huffed and scooted forward. You took the tip into your mouth. The smooth and salty taste of him had you clenching around nothing. You needed this inside of you. Your panties grew more damp by the second.

You took him as far as you could. His precum leaked out of him and you slurped it up. You brought your hands up to help you please him. You cupped his balls and rolled them. His answering growl made you shiver. You moaned around his dick as you bopped your head up and down.

He slipped his hands into your curly hair and palmed your scalp. He took control and fucked your mouth. Drool ran down your chin and you made all kinds of nasty sounds. “Nah, I’m cumming in that pretty little pussy,” he said. He slipped out of your mouth and gripped his dick.

He pushed you down onto the couch and moved your panties to the side again. He pushed in, stretching you.

“Goddamn,” he sighed as he worked his way in. He stroked in and out with shallow bursts to stretch you further. 

“Oh fuckfuckfuck,” you cried as he worked into you. There was a slight burn and you bit your lip. The pleasure was immense. 

He put all his weight on you and bit your neck. He finally bottomed out and groaned in your ear. You scratched at his back over his tank before pulling it up so that you could get to him. To his skin. He smelled like cocoa butter and sweat. Like a man.

One of his hands spread your legs more so that he could get in there deep. His other hand braced himself on the side of your head. His breath fanned your ear and neck. “Talkin’ all that shit. You ain’t got nothing to say?” 

You shook your head. Your throat was raw from moaning. 

“Yeah, this my pussy, ain’t it?” He hiked your leg higher on his hip and hit a spot deep inside that made you buck.

“There that shit is.” He grinned as he continued to aim for that spot. 

“Shit. I c-can-” You couldn’t speak as black spots winked in and out of your vision. 

“Look at me. Look at me hittin’ this shit,” he said. Your eyes rolled until they found his. Your belly flipped. You clenched around him.

“Do that shit again,” he grunted. His strokes slowed down but became more powerful. He rocked into you so that on every up slide you scooted up the couch. 

You clenched again and he smirked. “That’s right. I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” Your voice was small and weak as he continued to hit that G spot. 

“Yeah? Well tell Daddy thank you,” he said.

You huffed. You would’ve told him off if he wasn’t hitting so good. He took this shit seriously. 

“Thank you,” you said and cried out as he hit it a little too hard.

“Uh uh. Tell Daddy thank you.” 

He moved his hand from your thigh down to your neck. “Be a good little ho and tell Daddy thank you,” he demanded. 

He twisted his hips and drove into you. “Thank you Daddy!” You cried as you came all over him.

“That’s it. Squeeze Daddy’s dick,” he said. 

He fucked you through it, the wet slap of his thighs hitting yours. He tightened his grip on your neck as he moaned and busted. Steaming hot ropes of cum shot inside of you. 

And still he fucked you. “This my fuckin’ pussy. Don’t play about that shit no ‘mo.” 

He fucked his cum deeper into you. His strokes slowed down as he kissed your neck, your chest, and bit your nipple through your tank. 

“Next time I wanna see these titties bounce for me.”

[helsensm]

I cannot hold it in anymore I am absolutely OBSESSED with your art and the way you draw Lao.

I also would like to inquire….. just perhaps… what are your top head-canons for him, and/or your opinions on popular ships for him/which ones you like?

No pressure!! I hope you are having a wonderful day 🧡

me, trying to act normal every time an awesome artist I look up to says something nice about my art

Thank you so much! first of all, please take this Lao with you, he's yours now~

now let me preheat my bad english.....

Most of my Lao headcanons (if they are not related to a particular art I made) were yoinked from another ppl, because DAMN FELLAS your brains are sexy. 😏 So you might have heard some of them already, but here's my top general hcs for him.

NOTE: we are talking about the current timeline mk1 Kung Lao

- Lao is very expressive with his hands and he's THE TOUCH person. Just look at how many times he took Raiden by the shoulder in the first chapter alone?? He'll be pushing, and patting, and shoving, and punching you all over while telling about his breakfast or something.

- Lao is struggling with inferiority complex. Since childhood he was under a tremendous amount of pressure, he has to do things right, to be better, or else he would be mocked or punished. Now he believes that he should be the best, or he would not be taken seriously. He's constantly seeking validation in his peers, causing him to act cocky and over-confident.

- Anger issues, usually when someone questions his skill.

- People call him lazy because he tries to act like everything comes naturally to him. In reality he trains hard and takes things seriously. Like, he's fighting with a RAZOR RIMMED HAT fgs, it's not something you can master in a day! Also he always got energy running through his veins, lucky bastard... *cries in iron deficiency*

- He makes his hats by himself. With his hands. He designs and creates. ALL of them. I will die on that hill.

- He's a slow to trust, but ride or die as a friend.

- He's a trouble maker FOR SURE, but not a bully. He's respectful and polite to most of the people (if they don't provoke him), also drinks his respect-women juice.

- Master of sass and sarcasm. And yes, I think he swears, but in the right circumstances or the right company.

- He's got rizz NOW, but in his teens he had zero game because he could not keep his mouth shut and would scare off the person with the most ridiculous piece of idiocy.

- I read it in one fic and really loved the idea that Liu Kang "told the blossoms" about Kung Lao, and they really liked him 🌸 so now they are following him around and bringing him news and gossips, that's why there's always those goddamn petals aroung him aasghGHHHj 🌸🌸

- He's rolling his eyes at Johnny, but they quickly become besties.

- He actually has a cold relationship with Liu Kang. Don't get me wrong, he trusts him, respects the hell out of him and will run into a wall for a man. But I think Liu will distance himself because of all the memories of HIS Lao and how badly they sting. oTL

- That smile and a bow Lao did after loosing to Raiden? He meant that. Loosing hurted BAD, but the pain was pushed aside by the sence of pride and happiness for his best friend.

oh shit, this is getting out of hand, I'm starting to think about the other timelines and dynamics, we'll be here all week hhhhgh

About the popular ships... Well, I'm a big fan of railao (yeah NO SHIT who would have thought), but I am a multishipper, so I'm just happy to see my fav characters feeling good in someone's hands. 😊

I really like the liulao and laoliutana for several different reasons. 👀 The johnshilao (or is it laojohnshi..? erm) was the one that didn't impress me at first (love the Lao just third-wheeling with a tired expression <:'D), but recently I'm starting to warm up to all the different dynamics these three can have. And that is, in no small part, thanks to you and your kenlao agenda 👀💖 damn you created such a nice cozy universe for them I'm 🥺💕💗💖

Bi-Han/Lao is a bit random, but I love how catto did them, they are such a cute pair of assholes! >:3

ummm, yeah, so I'm going to stop there ahahhH. Thank you again for asking and for all the nice little feels your art provides, I admire you tremendously~

[devildomwriter]

“…Excuse me? You don’t know TSL? And you call yourself a human?! Just how clueless ARE you?! How could you not know?! Just the fact that you don’t know TSL alone is proof that you’ve been wasting your life! So, I’m going to do you a favor and teach you about TSL. Make sure you pay attention! The Tale of the Seven Lords, otherwise known as TSL, is a series of fantasy novels written by Christopher Peugeot. It’s a heroic epic spanning 138 volumes, and it’s the most widely-read fantasy series in the world. There are even theatrical versions, an animated series, and feature films, too. And it’s been translated into a total of 182 different languages. The 1990s theatrical version was an utter disaster, owing to the fact that they added several characters that were NOT present in the original manuscript. At the time I was like, “this producer totally needs to crawl into a hole and die!” But then the 2015 version came out, and it was AMAZING! Better than amazing! If you ask me, it showed that needlessly cramming a female lead in there alongside Henry was a bad idea. That’s not what he needs. What he NEEDS is a friend who really understands him, and the 2015 version proved that.

Also, the most vital element of the story is that each of the Seven lords is so unique. They’re all so interesting in their own peculiar way. That’s what makes TSL so great! The lords are all brothers…the oldest is called the Lord of Corruption. He doesn’t come across as being so bad at first, but he’s always plotting and planning in secret. The second oldest is the Lord of Fools, a scumbag who’ll do anything for money. The third oldest is called the Lord of Shadow, a brooding recluse. The fourth oldest is known as the Lord of Masks. He masquerades as a high-status, upstanding member of society, but underneath it all, he’s an inhumane monster. The fifth oldest, the Lord of Lechery, only ever thinks of sex. The sixth oldest is the Lord of Flies, and he only ever thinks of food. The seventh oldest, called the lord of Emptiness. He’s weird…you never know what’s running through his head! It seems most people like the oldest lord, the lord of corruption, the best. Everyone always talks about how great he is. But not me. I like the third Lord way more. Of course, I like Henry too. He’s the protagonist. He’s almost as great as the third lord. The second Lord is total scum, a hopeless degenerate that leads a life of extravagance and indulgence. He’s always causing trouble for the third lord. He’s got these magical pigs that can give birth to solid gold piglets, and he treasures them above all else. So Henry goes and talks to the pigs, and using his wit and powers of persuasion, he convinces them to leave with him. Then, he leads every last one of them away, and presents them to the third lord as a gift! Wow…I mean, they’re SUCH GOOD FRIENDS you can almost feel it! It’s enough to make you cry! Oh, and then there’s that one really awesome moment when the two of them realize they both like and respect each other, and they high-five! I just LOVE that part, you know? I wish I could have a moment like that. …I wish I could be like the third lord. I may be a recluse like him, but we’re totally different, because he’s got an amazing friend like Henry. Check it out. See that goldfish in the fish tank there? He’s actually named Henry. I love TSL so much that I couldn’t help naming him after the main character. But I cant really high-five a goldfish, can I?

The original author of TSL, Christopher Peugeot, he’s actually a human, you know? That’s why I’m so jealous of you guys. Humans are so lucky, you’ve got subscription services that let you watch your favorite anime anytime, you can go to Akihabara whenever you want… Why do only you guys get to experience all the good stuff? I mean, humans’ whole concept of pleasure originally came from us demons, you know? We gave it to you. So, why can’t we have a little bit of it back now, huh? I mean, I want to be able to go to a Japanese maid café, too. I want to hear the maids welcome me as if I’m the master of the house, and have them draw ketchup hearts on my fried rice omelette, to experience the magic of it all. I want to cosplay as Henry, and then go stand in the center of Akihabara, or maybe that one building in Tokyo that’s shaped like upside-down triangles. And once I’m there, I want to perform Henry’s super-powerful signature finishing move for all to see and say the incantation that goes with it. I want to shout it at the top of my lungs!...Actually you know what? I want to BE Henry.”

— Leviathan’s longest TSL rant (Chapter 1-13)

[asmolfolk]

Hi! Sooo, theres a tiktok video that is "Ivan, how did you bag that baddie?" and this come to my mind: Tesla, Buddha, Sasaki, Jack and Ares (separate) hcs with a s/o like that? They're like: Idk how, but she picks me up like I'm nothing. Let's just say I can imagine it, lol - Sorry for my English and kisses from Brazil <3

Oh my! A fellow brazilian! I'm also brazilian, so, kisses from the southeast part of Brazil &lt;3 Hope you liked this one, I really loved to make this one, it was very fun!

🥀♥︎.•° Fandom: Shuumatsu no Valkyrie. Characters: Nikola Tesla, Sasaki Kojiro, Jack the Ripper, Buddha and Ares (Separate) Ask: Inspired by the video 'Ivan, how did you bag that baddie?' 🦋♥︎.•°

Nikola Tesla

"Tesla, how did you bag that baddie?" The one who asked him was his friend, Robert... And that got him... Thoughtful. Tesla looked to the side, looking directly at your direction...

He was thinking about the differences between the two of you... And the similarities too. How you react to things, how you smile, how you show affection or interess in something... He is thinking all of those things at the same time. It would be a reason to "Why he stayed", after all, he never showed any interest in love or relationships that were romantical... But seeing that you were just like a Math question... [A lot of outcomes - Needs hard work and understanding to seek the problem...] That was enough to make his mind so... Full of love and interest. Of course, he couldn't not remember how did 'he bag this baddie'... Spoiler, he didn't. He still remember the day you just looked at him and straight up said "Oh, I don't have this color yet" and just picked him up like a cat and walked with him in your arms. He would tell anyone who saw that the exact thing "I accept it for cience!" But the truth was that he just didn't care to be holded... He liked that and the fact that he could still write his notes was a plus one. Since that, both of you started to talk and later on, date... It is still a surprise to most of Tesla's friends... He can still remember the first dates... And now, you are his... Girlfriend, aren't?... He can't be happier. You respect his space and actually, you were the one to start a lot of intimacy stuff with him... You seemed to always knew when he wanted something or when he acknowledges that you want something from him, but was too tired or busy and didn't want to leave you feeling unwanted by his lack of effort... So you - seeming to read his mind - do exactly what he wanted and started to give him some words of affirmation and to be sure that he knows that it's okay to not fit into some category... Or to not want to do something like sex, PDA or others.

It seemed like a he was off for some seconds IRL while in his mind, he just saw yours love story together... When he noticed that, he knew... He knew his answer. He looked to Robert and started his monologue. "Oh, you are surely mistaken, my dear friend. I'm aware of what could give the impression for you to think like that... But!" He stands there, smilling as if he is explaining math to someone "She, indeed, picked me up and straightly putted me into a consensual relationship that I do really, extremely, like." He puts a hand over his heart, as to give emphasys to his next words "This woman has a exceptional mind and strenght... Aren't I a lucky guy? Her mind is as brilliant as mine... Of course, in Differents/Same matters... Do you understand, Robert?" Robert is lost in words, he doesn't know what to say or what to do... After all, he just saw all of his - 'Don't want to date' - friend being so deeply in love with someone... He could only chuckle as his wife carries a surprise and shocked expression. "Oh my! I'm so happy that you found someone that matches you perfectly, Tesla! And her body is so pretty too... She would look awesome in a wedding dress, don't you think so?" "Hm... Wedding? I think it's a strange concept... But if she wants one..." Tesla, even having his disagreements over weddings... He couldn't say no to you. After all... You are his everything.

Sasaki

"Kojiro Sasaki, how did a loser like you bag that baddie over there?" It was the question of his opponent... He was looking directly at your face, seeing how it changed... After all, you were in fiery! How dare them say call Sasaki a loser... And before you could start approaching to 'ora ora' this person face, Sasaki holded your hand to stop you and smiled brightly. "Well... I may be a loser in battle... But she picked me from the ground and made me her boyfriend, resuming the whole story" He told his opponent as he chuckles as he feels you pinching his cheecks a bit "Ow-Ow! Sorry, sweetheart..." He laughing a bit. "It was nothing like that. I saw him on the ground and thought he was deeply hurt, so I carry him home so I could take care of him." You said, explaining it better than Sasaki resume... Or trying to. "...Okay...? Look, I don't really care..." Sasaki's opponent tried to say that but he wasn't heard, now, Sasaki and you were discussing about this first meeting and he seemed overly in joy after hearing your version of the facts. "So... How were you capeable to hold me?" He finally asked "I mean, I'm pretty heavy-" "I carry boxes that weight more than you, Sasaki."

Jack the Ripper

"How a serial killer like you got to bag that baddie?!" That was the question of Hlökk, who was actually curious to know more about this whole relationship between the two of you... After all, nobody seemed to know about Jack's partner. "Oh my... Well, it's interesting that you asked me this... Well, may I just tell you..." He said with his british accent and sweet tone appearing, he was at your side, holding your hand while looking directly at Hlökk. "She was the one and only who got me, who actually had me on her arms... When she was carrying me around." As he said it, his other hand started patting your head "Isn't it the most romantical and sweet thing someone could ever do to their partner? Carrying them around like they weight nothing" His explanation was not meant to make you feel that proud of yourself... Or to blush like you did. But in a way or other, you could only feel how much you matter and is loved by him... He is trully a gentleman. "EWWW, YOU CLINGY OLD MAN!" Hlokk seemed to think in a different way.

Buddha

"Buddha, my deaaaar friend. How did you manage to bag this baddie?!" Said Zeus... The sluttiest god "Oh my me! You should help me get a baddie like her, I swear to you... I give you candies... Hehe" Zeus - again - couldn't hide his horny. "No." A short and straight answer coming from Buddha, who looked unimpressed by Zeus atticts "I'm not helping you cheat on your wife." as he explained that, Zeus only rolled his eyes - remembering that he is married. "Aw,come on, Buddha, my great friend... It's not like I would steal your... Partner~ I just want to know what did you do...!" "...You have some serious problems, Zeus." With that said, Buddha just moved along his way... But Zeus question was enough to make him think about... That. How did this all happened?

You just looked straight at him and picked him up, saying "This is mine." and just straight up runned away from the gods. That was enough to make him be not only proud but happy - that reunion was a really shitty one.

"Hah... It seems like the puberty made her really strong." Remembering that day, Buddha couldn't hide his smile as he made his way towards you... He WILL use you as his pillow, after all, you can pick him up.

Ares

"Not that I don't respect you, Ares... But how did you... And her got together?" Asked Aphrodite with a rather... Amused expression, she seemed to be making fun of him. "How did you just do that? How did you manage that...? Did you finally follow your daddy ways?~ Because I don't see how you couldn't do that properly... You get no bitches at all~" "She isn't a bitch or anything like what dad do with Hera! She is different, I love her... I want her, she is the only one I truly love." He said, with a confused expression. "Oh love? Now you feel that... How patheti-" She is interrupted when you just walked straight to her, looking to her eyes with a hateful rage. "What did you just say to MY partner? Do you have a fucking problem with him?" As you started to swear at Aphrodite... Ares looked at you with a little smile on the face... Finally... He finally has someone who sides with him and stands up for him...

[madaboutmunson]

Are You Experienced?

Rating: Mature Words: 26K Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Warnings & Tags:

AO3 Link Team 117 for @steddiebang 2023 Author: @madaboutmunson Artist: @danadaria Beta: @house-of-chant Cheerleader : @atmilliways (unofficial but I am super grateful for your help so didn't want to miss you out!) Summary:

Everyone knows Steve Harrington, a local rich kid jock, the previous king of Hawkins High School. He's got it all, money, a respectable family, and chicks love him. He's even spending the summer learning what it's like to be a real working man before taking on a role in his Dad's firm because its builds character and empathy. Or is he something else entirely?

Is Steve a down-on-his-luck guy, stuck in a job he dislikes because his dad is teaching him a lesson, repeatedly striking out with the ladies, that his co-worker is fond of reminding him about?

Under all the many layers and masks, he uses to survive the day-to-day, Steve has secrets. The main one is how passionately he loves music. How it moves him in ways nothing else does, and he's sure no one else could possibly feel the same, until his Mom gives him $50 to spend at the new record store. Notes: I sincerely hope you enjoy this story and the artwork for this fic. I really loved writing it, and I really loved the Steddie community I became part of because of this event. It has changed me forever. You're all so awesome. Huge thanks to my artist who not only claimed my fic but also really understood our Steve's perspective in this. I can't believe how lucky I am to have @danadaria as part of my team! Also huge thanks to @house-of-chant for beta-ing my fic you rule! Thank you so much And also big shout out to @atmilliways who when I was getting nervous about my fic (it had been so long since I edited it (I completed my before claims lol)) gave it another read for me and restored my confidence in it! Thank you **********************************************************************

********************************************************************** It's the beat that got him first, or so his mom is fond of reminding him as she teased him a little over the foam on her cappuccino. A fond nostalgic expression washes over her usual business-like aura that mostly filled these private but public meet-ups.

Away from his Dad, essentially. Away from his judgemental outlook, away from his snide comments and homophobic jabs. Here, his mother was more his mom; they'd been doing this since Steve had been forced to find a job, and honestly, it's been the best thing to come out of this shitty situation so far. 

When he was a kid, they used to spend her days off together without him until he fucked that up for Steve too. The cheating. His wandering eyes, hands and dick meant his mom would leave and take him for everything he had, including Steve, but somehow he slimed his way back, citing addictions. He could change if his wife stood by him through his "sickness". The irony of reminding his mom of her wedding vows to make her stay after she'd found out about only the first of a long list of women he'd been banging was not lost on Steve. So now she had to follow his Dad everywhere, like his goddamn nanny. It was beneath her, she didn't have to do this, but she did. She'd be damned if she looked like she didn't try. 

Steve often wonders if that is because even though he hurt her irreparably, repeatedly, that some small tiny part of her still loved that pathetic excuse for a husband. They both would be happier if they'd just left him, though they never say it out loud, only in silent shared glances over dinner or when he pisses one of them off, and they just have to take it. Because now he's built himself a better legal team, and she knows they're stuck. But Saturday was golf day, and that was no place for a wife, apparently. Steve loathed him.

His Mom always offers to buy him lunch. Steve always declines. Says he's already eaten. He hasn't. He just wants to prove he can do this. He can work. He can survive. Then maybe his Dad would lighten up, stop busting his balls about college, give him a shitty job at his place, and then Steve would be set for life. Come to heel, fitting the mold, nine to five grind and staying on the right side of his trust fund and future inheritance.

Despite his eagerness for an easy life, Steve is the kind of guy that loves a challenge. He loves to prove people wrong about him, but carefully, quietly, because if he fails as he has numerous times, at least the only person who knows he was trying so hard is himself. But he'd be lying out of his ass, if he didn't admit at least to himself that it would be much nicer to live the privileged, pampered life rather than getting his confidence shattered multiple times a day, dressed as a fucking sailor pin-up.

"You were so funny, Stevie. Crawling the wrong way. Not being able to work out how to turn yourself around. Constantly bumping into things. Until, of course, you found your muse," She chuckles, and it warms Steve's heart because this is also something that only happens at these meetings. She genuinely laughs, and her smile reaches her eyes, making them twinkle like a starry, starry night. Not like the laugh at home, not the carefully curated laugh, the one that's calculated to not be too loud or too long, lest it irritates his Dad somehow. Steve had one, too for him. "Such a little dancer," his mom adds, nostalgia swimming in her eyes of happier times.

That was true. His Mom, Dad and Nanny all said the same about him. His Mom and Nanny with joy, his Dad with disgust. It was also true that Steve had lost his footing literally and figuratively many times over his life so far, and some of those times, the only person able to pick him up and dust him off was himself. But he had a secret weapon. He had music.

Lots of people like music. Some love it.Steve believed there was part of him that was almost a direct connection to it. Like he had music in him. Like the right song at the right time could plug into him and change him forever. Like part of him was controlled by it. He wasn't just moved by it physically, but emotionally too. He could put on his headphones alone at night, press play, and be transported elsewhere. Places, feelings, past, present, future and in the skin of someone else. Until he is swept up in it like an inescapable hurricane. Until Steve Harrington didn't exist for those few minutes.

"Glad to know I amused you at one point," he jokes and gives her a charming smile. It's almost natural, but she takes it. Looks around quickly before stretching across the table and squeezing his hand, and he feels the familiar paper push inside as she takes her hand away back to her coffee cup.

"Have you been to the record store here yet?" She takes a sip of her drink and glances up at it, "Looks a lot more modern than the one in town."

Steve pulls his hands into his lap and unfurls his fingers to reveal a fifty-dollar bill. He rolls his eyes, "Come on, Mom. I don't need this," he whispers, "I'm fine. I'm still at home. I'm making my own money. It feels kinda good, you know?"

Her happy expression falls, "You look tired, my little star." Her eyes meet his over the rim of her coffee cup. He knows how tired he looks, he sees it in the mirror every morning, and it's not from work. He is struggling post-high school. Things aren't as easy anymore. "Why don't you try the new place out? It's not far from work, right?" He glances over at Sam Goody's from where they are seated and is tempted, but there are reasons he's been avoiding it. "You know you are never happier than when you get to add to your collection. Tell him you got a big tip or something if he bothers to ask you. Once I'm home, I'll put my rollers in before he gets back, and he'll think I had my hair done. So don't worry." Steve half smiles and guiltily casts his eyes to the table between them. This will be their last lunch for a while.

"Thanks. If everything goes ok, I'll check it out after my shift." And he will. Steve tries to stick to his word as best he can, at least endeavours to be better than his Dad at it anyway, which, honestly, takes little effort. He pushes the money into his jacket pocket as she gets up, and they part ways with a small fond wave.  A hug would be too much out in the open, as if being dressed as a sailor wasn't eye-catching enough.

Steve returns to Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor and tags in so the girl he always seems to be on shift with can take her break. Her name's Robin. She's a little younger than him: Nancy's age. She's bossy, annoying, a complete nerd; she talks too much, she's in band, she takes drama; and she thinks she's some kind of revolutionary because she found a feminist zine one time. He gets the same feeling around her as when he's with the little group of dickheads that he always ends up babysitting. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, El. He'd never let on, but it's kinda nice. They can rib one another all day, laugh, and mutually complain about work. It's like a weird comradery. 

But what Steve really likes about her isn't the things she gives away with her words. It's what he spots in her Walkman or what she hums when she's working in the back. Sure, Robin will tell you her favourites, Madonna, Bowie, Culture Club, and Cindy Lauper, but that, as with most people, is just the tip of the iceberg. She also likes Patti Smith, The Runaways and Marvin Gaye. Steve managed to sneak a peek at the names through the window of her Walkman. Sometimes, annoyingly, it will be an unlabelled mixtape, preventing Steve from unravelling the mystery of Robin further. 

Steve's Robin assessment: 

Non-traditional values

Likes people who go against the grain 

Hopeless Romantic

"You're back early. You've got another fifteen minutes?" She frowns at him and wrinkles her nose, making her freckles misshapen.

"Oh yeah," Steve plays dumb, follows up with a shrug, and heads into the back to hang up his jacket, wash his hands and pick up his scooper. When he re-emerges, she's still leaning on the counter, frowning at him like he was the weirdest thing she'd ever seen. He gives her a charming smile back, "You can go early if you want?" Her frown turns into disgust as she pushes past him into the back.

"What is with you?!" She mutters as she passes.

"Ah, what is with me, Robin, is that I love the thrill of consumerism! Gonna beat my personal best today. You'll see!" He calls after her with a smile.

"I know you only need one phone number to do that, Steve, but I still think that's one too many out of your reach." She says in a sing-song tone with a laugh, and Steve rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"I'm talking about ice cream sales, birdbrain." He sasses back.

"Ohh, sticking to what we're good at, finally. I'm proud of you, Steve." She says, teasing him, as she walks back out, headphones on, giving him a salute goodbye.

There is a small influx of customers over the next hour, but nothing Steve can't handle, and by the time Robin returns, there isn't much to do except start shutting down.

"Well?" Robin inquires with a smirk.

"Almost," Steve replies with a smile, "but also…" he pulls a slip of paper from his hat with a number on. Robin grabs at it, and Steve pulls it out of her reach. "Ah-ah! Change the tally. I have a number." Steve points at the little whiteboard.

"Ok, fine!" She says with an adorable huff, picking up the marker pen, but as soon as Steve has relaxed, she snatches the slip of paper and reads over it, clasping her hand over her mouth, with a laugh, "Oh, Steve. Were they wearing a uniform or - or maybe carrying a net?"

"A what? No!" He says, frowning in annoyance, "This cute blonde chick with a perm. Linzie! That's it!" Steve says, clicking his fingers and pointing at the whiteboard impatiently.

Robin walks over to the board and puts a mark under the You Suck column. 

"Hey!" Steve protests.

"This is the number for animal control," Robin says smugly, holding the paper between her fingers and handing it back to Steve, who snatches it and races for the phone, punching in the number whilst keeping a locked defiant stare with Robin.

The phone rings a few times. It feels like forever.

"Hawkins Animal Control. No bug too small, no bear too big." Steve rolls his eyes and slams down the handset, tossing the paper in the trash and leans glumly on the counter. He really does feel like he sucks right now.

"Come on, champ. Your frosty mistress still loves you! In scoopfuls," she says, laughing as she pats him on the shoulder and thrusts an ice cream tub at him. As he looks up from his self-pity, quicksand. Her eyes are bright, sparkling with harmless mischief. Even though her teasing could be a little cutting, there was no malice. He can tell by the way she warmly smiles at him. A wordless check-in to see if she'd gone too far.

"For now. Until some grizzly pirate steals her away, no doubt." Steve rolls his eyes as he starts piling up more tubs to take out back to wash.

"Or you." She says with a laugh. Steve shakes his head and contorts his face like she just told him the moon was made of sponge cake and returns out front to collect a few more.

"No chance, not with these reflexes!" He says, spinning his scooper in his hand. She rolls her eyes, but her smile widens as she launches a sauce bottle at him that he effortlessly catches before impact, pumps his eyebrows at her and repeats, "Not with these reflexes." The forced sneer of disgust appears on her face again, making him hide a laugh behind a tower of tubs he's picked up.

He really liked Robin. She was easy to be around.

Closing time comes around, and they nod their goodbyes, at the storefront, after locking up. Like clockwork, her headphones are back on as she walks towards the bike racks. He already knows she's listening to Raspberry Beret.

Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and feels the crinkle of the fifty from his mom against his fingertips, and his eyes move to the record store. They were probably gonna be open for an hour or so longer. He turns to the store's glass front, has a final check over his appearance and ensures his uniform is buried deep in the depths of his backpack before taking a deep breath and walking over there.

It's not like he hated this place or anything. It just felt like a betrayal to the town store that was slowly but surely crumbling into non-existence. The other factor was that all the people who worked here were school kids, apart from the manager. Cheap labour, he guesses, but it means he can never fully relax here. Can never fully let the music ring through his ears so it can guide him to his next pocket-sized plastic box of hidden treasure. Most of them were younger than him, though, so intimidating them was easy enough, though with the weather warming up, they were slowly catching on to how far King Steve had fallen, working just across the way. He tells them it's character-building, an experiment. He only told Robin that it was, in fact, a punishment.

He stands outside for a moment. This place is so bright and garish. Neon lights ran all over it like some fake plastic poison spreading between what he loved most. He can already hear something blaring out of there and voices chattering loudly, contending with it. He puts on his headphones, carefully placing the band so it doesn't crease up his hair, and pushes play on his Walkman. His ears fill with Nina Simone, and he takes a much easier deep breath as he walks inside.

I wish I knew how it would feel to be free.

As the voice smoothly fills his ears like it had just broken through the dam of the day and swirls its way around his brain into what feels like every crease, he finally feels that special feeling. The tingle from under his cheekbone to his temples, and he can finally settle into himself a little more. Swaps tension for ease as his fingers dance over the music sections, flipping cassette cases or the large vinyl album artwork as he moves around the store.

That is until he starts to hear the repetition of something unfortunate, and it pulls him out of his oasis of calm back into his old, reliable, tensed body and mask. His name.

"Harrington!" The voice rings out, and as if to make a show of how annoying this all is, he slowly takes off his headphones and forcibly pushes stop on his walkman.

"Yes?" He says through almost gritted teeth as he turns to the origin of the sound and finds himself met with a set of hopeful brown eyes, a mass of waves and curls, and an awkward smile. Eddie "The Freak" Munson.

Steve's Eddie assessment: 

Loud

Grating

Obnoxious

Non-conformist to the mainstream

Conformist to the Heavy Metal scene

"Good to see ya, man. How're things?" Eddie forces his smile wider, but it is strained.

Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh, "Let's get this over with, Munson. How can I help you?" His hands land on his hips, pushing back his jacket a little to emphasise the inconvenience, but Eddie seems unperturbed, curiously; his smile grows toothy and genuine.

"Well, that's quite an offer, but I was actually thinking about the other way around." Steve's eyes follow Eddie's ringed hand that comes into view and taps the name tag on his chest, "How can I help you, Harrington?" He drops his head to the side a little.

Steve forces out an unimpressed laugh of condescension, "I don't need any help. I'm good!" Eddie's customer service persona falters a little to worry.

"Come on, man.  All these other twerps here are terrified of me or the younger ones, who aren't, get led away by their folks." As he gestures around the store, sets of eyes that Steve didn't realise were on them dart away. Eddie's eyebrows push together, "You know I wouldn't ask if I wasn’t desperate, dude. We're in the same boat here, you know? Please?" 

Weirdly the endearing look on his face wins him over, but Steve will not advertise himself as an easy sell. He pushes back once more for good measure. "We are not in the same boat, not by a long shot!"

Eddie steps in closer, keeping his voice down, and mumbles out, "I know you're working over at Scoops, one of my band told me."

"Yeah, well, that's just an experiment. If I'm gonna manage people and run a company, I need to know what the average worker feels like. So like I said, it's very different," he scoffs with a laugh.

Then something unexpected happens. Eddie shifts his body and his stance. Straightens his wiry frame to his full height, no longer slouching for the promise of Steve's pity, but eye to eye for a second before he's slightly above him, maybe an inch or so. He squints a little, carefully searches each of Steve's eyes, looks him over, and puffs out his chest. All too familiar with this display of sizing up an opponent, Steve mirrors him. Show no sign of weakness. 

"You know, Harrington. One of my first little tasks here was to take out the trash. I crushed up boxes and collected empty soda cans that my colleagues and customers enjoy leaving around the place, though the signs explicitly say not to. I even shredded the unsuccessful applications for the position I just filled." Eddie's lips are tighter. It's almost a threat. He's obviously seen Steve's resume in the pile. Probably laughed at it too. An ember of anger glows within Steve, but his outside remains cool. He'll wait and see what Eddie wants to do with his leverage. His stare bores intimidatingly down into Steve's eyes, "So, as far as I'm concerned, and anyone that brings it up to me is concerned, we can stay in very different boats, Steeeeve." He lengthens and forces his name through clenched teeth. "That is, as long as you help me out here."

They hold the shared stare for a few seconds. The surprise revelation must have made it to Steve's face because Eddie looks like he knows he's won. He shifts back into sales assistant mode, like shrugging a jacket back on, and his hands animate his words once more. "So, I can help you out in the store. I could even make sure that all my friends with the munchies know where to get the best ice cream in town if you need some help over there too? Some of them are a lot cuter than you'd expect. Whaddya say, buddy? Consider it a symbiotic relationship." His grin, reptilian.

Steve breathes like he knows he's going to regret this. Eddie Munson invading his precious music. "What do you feel you can help me with today?" His exasperation is palpable. Eddie claps his hands together with glee, and his accessories clink about as he, alternating leg, hops on the spot before his sly grin turns radiant, friendly almost. The rapid change is almost a little jarring but intriguing because with a switch that quick, one of these attitudes was pure showmanship, and to his credit, both were believable performances.

"Well, let's start with the basics. Are you looking for anything in particular today?" Eddie asks pleasantly. "Because whatever you're looking for, Goody got it" he laughs out the rehearsed store slogan. It seems like he is actually trying here, and Steve decides this doesn't need to be a totally painful experience. For himself, at least. He taps his chin thoughtfully.

"Hmmm, I guess I'm just looking for something new." Steve ponders, looking around, and he sees a glimmer in Eddie's eyes as they dart from Steve to a section further back in the store. 

"Oh, well, if you want the freshest sounds around, you've come to not only the right store but also the right man. Metal is taking off in a big way right now, splintering off into little tasty genre morsels even someone as…well… straight-laced as yourself might enjoy." He looks him over, his eyes zig-zagging for clues. "Maybe nothing too heavy. A smorgasbord of speeds and sentiment for you to sample. Maybe er…Mötley Crüe? You heard of 'em?" Eddie has linked his arm and is currently parading Steve towards the back of the store. "Now try to overlook the title of the album. It's much less scary than it sounds. I think you're probably a Queen fan, right? Maybe some Bowie, Cheap Trick, or other seventies glam stuff? Well, you'll hear in many Crue melodies and riff structures that they are as much influenced by that as they were by punk rock. So I think you might like it. Besides, they are known for their hair, just like you." Eddie lays his charm on thick, well, what he thinks is charming anyway. Strictly speaking, it is a little hit and miss in Steve's book; although he lets Eddie finish his spiel, which is honestly more impressive than he would like to admit, Steve already had the album Shout At The Devil stashed away at home, and he did like some of it, but it didn't move him. But something about Eddie reeling off some of his favourites like that feels strange. Maybe that's why Eddie got the job here. Perhaps he’s a quick study when it comes to musical taste.

He attempts to assess Eddie for himself. Everything about his outside screams of high-speed punk and metal. But things like Dio, Iron Maiden and Sabbath definitely lean towards fantasy, history and myth. Imaginative, maybe, but that felt too soft. So he labels him creative, at least. The way he could talk at length about topics, and he's good with words. Maybe that's why he likes songs where the lyrics are a real story, tales of dragons and kings. There are the obvious things too. The way he dresses, his haircut, and his rings, but also something else. Being around him feels like when a guitar gets plugged into an amplifier. Eddie is big energy, wild maybe, something animalistic in how he doesn't hold back his expressions. Definitely something predatory in how he loomed over him, but that could have just been for show.

For Steve, there are levels to this. There is music you can’t bear to hear, the music you are indifferent to, the music you enjoy, music that evokes emotion, and then the stuff that sends lightning through your nervous system. It moves you, even if you don't want to be. If he was going to help Eddie out, the least he could get for himself was a tidbit of insider information about the guy at the same time.

So Steve stops them dead in their tracks before they reach the Metal section of the store and lies, "You know, I don't think my girlfriends are gonna enjoy that too much, Eddie. Maybe, yeah, maybe something a little softer. You know what girls like, right?" He sees Eddie jolt to a stop, his head shrinking back into his shoulders with a wince, and he releases his arm.

He turns to Steve, tossing his hair over his shoulder in a vain act of cockiness, that this time Steve sees right through. He waits to see what transpires. "Of course I do! I just thought you were shopping for you. You didn't say otherwise, duh!" Eddie states defensively, struts back into the middle of the store, and stops directly in front of the top 100 chart singles, blinking a few times, pretending to be in thought, but Steve sees the swallow of nerves. "So, uh, what's she into? So I can, you know, make a related recommendation." 

Oh! This was an unexpected turn of events, and Steve can't resist tugging at the strand of Eddie's unravelling. "Oh, you know, typical girl stuff." Eddie nods at the hundreds of cassettes in front of him, his mouth a tight line, avoiding Steve's eyes. He had made an assumption about Eddie long ago, and as it turned out, he might actually be wrong. He’s a nerd, yes. Loud, sure, but he’s also a lead guitarist. They get girls, women even, throwing themselves at them, right? But Eddie seems very nervous about figuring out what girls like. He looks stumped. Steve doesn't know if that is due to inexperience with girls or chart music.

"Huh," Eddie coughs out, hand on his hip as he rounds on Steve, "Never thought you were a misogynist, Harrington."

"What?" Steve blinks in surprise.

"You think girls like a certain type of music. That's pretty sexist." The confident smile returns to his face as he feels he's found a way out of the awkward place Steve had happily placed him in. "Your genitalia or identity can't make you favour one beat over another, Harrington. Music is an even playing field. The industry itself, that's a different story." He sighs like he's some wise old sage and tuts at Steve.

This guy is slippery, but Steve could play this game, "Oh, of course. What I meant was music for romancing? Maybe a slow dance over a candle-lit dinner or a moonlight drive down to get acquainted near Lover’s Lake or Skull Rock. You know all about that, don't you, Eddie? You're a man of the world, right?" Steve leans into Eddie's space and grins happily at him. That's when Steve gets another win. Eddie blushes, not just a little either, a lot. Soft coral-pink patches hit just on and under his cheekbones. So much so that before Steve can comment on it, Eddie is kneeling on the floor, pretending to search through tapes, his hair draped down, hiding his face. If he was a betting man, he'd guess the inexperience was with girls. Now there was a new question. Was that a choice or not?

He stands up eventually and looks Steve directly in the eyes, and smirks, "Alright, then." He says quietly, "Wait here" Steve frowns a little in confusion but observes Eddie darting around the store until he returns with three cassettes. "Contemporary," he hands over a copy of Sade's Diamond Life, "smooth," he places a second cassette on top of Al Green's Let's Stay Together, and the last cassette on the pile, The Jimi Hendrix Experience's Are You Experienced? He shifts his weight to his other leg, looks down at the tapes and then back into Steve's eyes, speaking hushed and deliberately as if he were telling him a secret, "and some of the sexiest fucking guitar the sixties had to offer."

And in that one sentence, Steve is jolted, like someone just caught him off guard with a hand buzzer. The first two descriptions were statements, observations, but that last one…there was power to it. Not just his words but the delivery. Eddie meant that. An enthusiasm he immediately recognised matching his own when he thought about music or talked about it after a few beers, and he had to remember not to let his mask slip too far, but Eddie wasn't masking how this particular musical gem had impacted him. Steve quickly breaks eye contact and looks down at the tapes in his hand.

"You listened to all these?" Steve asks because Eddie had inadvertently prodded Steve's curiosity gremlin, which is clawing its way out of him. He needed to learn more now. Unknowingly Eddie had baited the water for Steve, he wanted to circle him until he got another tasty chunk, but he couldn't, not here and now.

Eddie brushes the question off, "I know my way around. Just trust me. And in the unlikely event I'm wrong, you can return them at my expense." Eddie waves his hand in front of them both toward the register. "Shall we?"

Steve nods, turning the tapes over in his hands. Maybe he could keep the conversation going differently. "What happened to your other business venture?" It's reasonably well known Eddie is the go-to guy for recreational substances for high schoolers, and Steve would guess that is relatively lucrative, so why on earth was he working here. Was he turning over a new leaf?

"Well, not that it's any of your business, Harrington, but I'm under advisement to press pause on that whilst some things get ironed out." He taps the registry keys with a smirk that indicates to Steve that perhaps it's the golf club and not the clothing crease-removing iron he's talking about. "If I'm not splashing around, other things can bob up to the surface, you know? Things that shouldn't be in Hawkins waters, at any rate." Eddie looks up at Steve and stretches his hand out toward him so he can give him the tapes.

He has occasionally wondered if the cops knew about Eddie, but as long as he kept things quiet and didn't venture into harder substance sales, they let it slide. An unspoken agreement of sorts.

"Found out about this place, and well, here we are," Eddie takes the money, bags the cassettes, and drops in the receipt and a flier. He smiles hugely at Steve. "I sincerely hope you have a great evening, and remember," he hands over his change and raises a finger in the air, "whatever you're looking for," and leans across the counter into Steve's space, "Goody got it!" He says with a bit of extra pout, and something about this outward confidence mixes with his potential inexperience and makes for a tantalizingly tempting cocktail of Steve's thoughts.

Steve pushes him back lightly, but Eddie laughs as he presses against Steve's hand before retreating. Shit. That probably looked weird. Nodding his thanks and goodbye, he leaves, and as he does, Eddie hops up onto the counter, calling after him loudly by cupping his hands around his mouth, "And if I'm right, which I know I am! Don't forget to tell your friends about the fantastic customer service you've received today!" Steve keeps his head down and walks out, awkwardly smiling at anyone who meets his eye. 

Safely on the outside of the store in a dwindling-to-empty mall, Steve stops holding his breath. His insides, especially his brain, feel like they aren't sitting correctly. Like they are just out of place. He unclenches his fists to cool down his palms, which were busily overheating, particularly the one he'd pushed Eddie back with. He tries to shake whatever this is off himself and decides to try out one of the tapes. He looks at the three. He contemplates trying them in the order Eddie supplied them, but he knows in his core what he really wants. He wants to know why that last one made Eddie's eyes sparkle like that, why he chose those words, and why recalling the music on that tape for a few seconds completely changed Eddie's demeanor. He outright used the word sexy, but it wasn't that. Instead, Eddie made Jimi Hendrix, one of the most famous artists to ever have existed, sound like something secret or forbidden.

He rounds to the glass storefront and forces himself to calmly unwrap and change the tape in his Walkman when all he really wants to do is greedily rip open the packaging, tossing the old tape into the never, and be plunged straight into whatever sorcery this album contained. He puts his headphones back on and pushes play. A few seconds of silence as he paces towards the parking lot. He doesn't know why, but he glances back into the shop. The doorway frames a kid, probably around Dustin's age, engaging Eddie in conversation, holding up two tapes like he's trying to decide, and Eddie is talking animatedly, pointing at each in turn. The kid listens attentively. Steve smiles to himself.

Steve's Eddie assessment: 

Loud

Grating

Obnoxious

Non-conformist to the mainstream

Conformist to the Heavy Metal scene

Likes talking about music

Might not be the awful person the town says he is.

Then, like he can sense someone observing him, Eddie looks up and smiles at Steve. Pointing to himself excitedly and then at the kid making her way to the registers and sends him a thumbs up. Steve sends a weak one back and continues his walk to the car. The guitar and beat of Purple Haze time his steps.

Steve adds to his Eddie assessment. 

Nice smile.

****************************

"Wow! Your eyes look more sunken than my shipwrecked spirit when I walked through this door," Robin exclaims, her lip curled in disgust, but he notes, with a hint of concern, when she turns up to start her shift. Steve leaning back against the counter under the hatch, starts to reply but is interrupted by a waiting yawn beating his words to the punch, "Say no more Nosferatu!" She adds, heading into the back to hang up her jacket, helmet and backpack.

Steve lets his eyes lose focus and dissociates a little from the blue and white surrounding him. It's been quiet all morning. He didn't even know why they opened in the morning, it seemed like a waste of utilities, but it usually meant that there was nothing to do except prep and clean for the first few hours on a weekday. Which was nice because it meant Steve had the place to himself and could drown out the sea shanties and chipper hornpipe melodies with whatever music he was immersing himself into at that moment in time. Today that had been the same thing he'd been listening to all night like it was his required sustenance.

He thinks a little about last night, on the car ride home, and whilst he cooked dinner for one, he sampled the Sadé album, this was dripping in that eighties sophistication of romance, and her voice might have been one of the most beautiful things Steve has ever heard. Then whilst taking care of some chores, he listened to the Al Green album, again an excellent recommendation by Eddie, it moved through the phases of love effortlessly, and the voice again was sensational. Not because the music is better, it wasn't even a genre Steve preferred, but simply because of how Eddie changed when he spoke about it. Steve saves Are you experienced? for the end of the night, when there is nothing more to do than sleep.

Taking advantage of having the place all to himself was different these days. Years ago, he'd maybe throw a party and have people stay over, but recently he hadn't had it in him. Instead, he prepares the area as usual. Turns out all the lights, makes sure everywhere is locked up, rushes to his room, gets a box of randomly assorted candles, sets a few out, and lights them. Last of all, he dons the huge over-ear headphones he's plugged into his parent's hi-fi system as he lays back on the plush rug beside it and pushes play. The beat like his heart gently pounds as Steve Harrington unwittingly falls into Eddie Munson for the first time that evening.

Steve startles at the abruptness of the hatch opening behind him, "Look, I can't not ask. My conscience is wearing me down, even though, just so this is abundantly clear, I do not care to know about your private life, generally speaking," Robin says rapidly, like she's chucking her words at him, before sighing, "Is everything ok with you?" Her voice is more gentle, verging on caring.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just couldn't sleep, that's all. Probably the change in weather," he answers.

"Oh well, I've cracked the case. That totally seems like the truth," she sarcastically says, shutting the hatch again, finally stepping out front, and standing directly in front of Steve, "I'm not gonna drag it out of you, but equally, I do not wanna work with the shadow of a person all day. So at the very least, if you don't wanna say what's eating you, go get a coffee and come back half-human before I get dragged down into the doldrums with you. It's contagious, you know, just like yawning!" She says and promptly has to cover her mouth to hold back a yawn, which also makes Steve yawn, "Ok, enough! Get out!" She says and points towards the store entrance. Steve obliges, pushing himself off the counter, slowly sloping off to the back to grab his jacket and leaving Robin with their obligatory salute as he heads over to the nearest caffeine purveyor.

As he walks, one side of his jacket weighs heavier than the other. The pocket that usually holds his on-demand solace, but today it contains a key that unlocked the door to impulse. When choosing his music for the day this morning, he reached for a mixtape that he'd made of some of his favorite chart hits, but as he opened the Walkman and saw the tape he'd been listening to all night, The one that he couldn't stop listening to, The one that snapped something free inside him, moments after he thought that maybe he and Eddie might have some common ground, He couldn't bring himself to switch them. He feels the temptation as his fingertips glance over the thin, metal band of the headphones to feel one of those moments all over again. He bites his lip, thinking about recalling one of those less-than-pure thoughts in the full view of all these people. They would have no idea. He looks around quickly like he is about to indulge in class-A contraband while waiting in line. 

No one else knew about last night. How his brain had been scrambled irreversibly. How the goosebumps had sprung up in a sprint up his arms, face and thighs. His imagination had not just run away with him but kidnapped him and held him hostage for hours. An entire psychedelic montage of his own creation. Traveling through kaleidoscopes of color, space, time, scenarios until something unexpected showed up, and as hard as Steve tried to bat it away, it continually returned, splicing his mental music video with clips of someone who had no business being in his brain when he felt open and raw that way. But alone in the darkness, safely in the arms of music, Steve let the thoughts develop, curious to know what would happen if he let go, let it happen, where exactly would they take him. But now, in the harsh light of day, that shame is still branded on his very bones. The heat rises to his cheeks, and though impossible, he's sure that if he doesn't do something about it, people around him will be able to tell. Be able to tell he'd been thinking about someone that way, all alone in the dark.

Steve quickly shoves his hand in his other jacket pocket away from temptation, and his fingertips play with something safe, boring and familiar. Money. Cold hard cash. The easiest mask Steve has in his toolkit. The furthest thing from music he could reach for. Icy, unfeeling, devoid of soul.

He reaches the counter, and the barista smiles broadly at him. "Good morning, Steve. What can I get ya today?" He's taken aback, sure he's never formally introduced himself to this girl before, but he's glad of the smile. A little harmless, friendly flirting couldn't hurt. It might even take his mind off other things.

"Whatever you've got to keep my eyes open." He tilts his head softly, glancing down at the counter and back up to the girl. "Something sweet though, I could do with a little sugar too." 

Her eyebrows flash, and she shifts her weight to lean a little on the counter towards him. "I think I know just the thing," she says with a subtle lick of her bottom lip, "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere sailor." Steve happily shakes his head in a no, and wishes Robin was here to see his success.

"Gina, huh? Thought your type was a lot more chaste, Steve," a gravelly voice to his left sends a slight shiver down his spine, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole right now, but instead, he turns to return a polite greeting.

"Good morning to you too, Eddie." He smiles and nods as standard, but his eyes, the traitorous things, linger a little too long, scanning the eyes of the man that had been the cause of him having to buy this coffee in the first place. Eddie looks him up and down in concern, but his expression changes to something mischievous, and he grins at the floor.

"My recommendations worked out for you and your girl, did they?" He nods in Gina's direction while finally looking at Steve again. 

"Something like that." He replies, leaning heavily on the tattered edges of the truth, but quickly adds in a whisper, "It wasn't Gina, though." 

Eddie's eyes widen, and he chokes a laugh out, and to Steve's pleasant surprise, it's almost a little dorky. That’s endearing. Damn it, he's smiling at him more now. Eddie bites his lip, still grinning, before pressing himself up against Steve's side with an elbow to the ribs, whispering in his ear, "Steve Harrington, you absolute hound!" Eddie laughs again, his usual deep chuckle. Gina snaps a glare at him from the coffee machine. Steve dies a little inside. "Double espresso for me, Genie baby," Eddie charmingly beams back at her whilst Steve does everything he can to keep himself together and not explode into a confetti cannon of embarrassment.

"Eddie! Get in line, like everyone else. How many times do I have to tell you?" She snips.

"Gina! My angel of energy! My friend here was just holding my place in line. Isn't that right, Steve?" Eddie turns to him and smiles, relaxed, his eyelids hooding his deep brown irises that Steve elects to quickly look away from.

"Yeah, that's right." He swallows, and keeps his eyes on Gina now.

"See!" Eddie says, raising his ringed hand to Steve's eyeline to gesture at him. Gina looks between the two of them, but her eyes eventually land on Steve, and her smile returns.

"Well, I have no idea why he's friends with the likes of you, Munson." She puts the two double espressos to go down on the counter, slamming the one nearest Eddie down much harder than the other, which she gently slides over to Steve leaning towards him, "but whatever Steve says…goes," she says, her eyes trailing over him slowly.

"Jesus Christ, Gina! You never heard of the thrill of the chase?" Eddie barks out a laugh, putting his money down on the counter.

"Who says I wanna do any running away?" She smirks, not taking her eyes off Steve.

"That's true. I mean, even walking a few steps ahead of your pursuer would break the habit of a lifetime, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?" Eddie teases as she glances down at the money on the counter.

"You're short, Eddie," she finally turns and bites back, making Eddie shrink a little. "Ten cents." The fun wipes from Eddie’s face as he frantically searches his pockets. Tiny coral-pink triangles start to bloom in the hollows of his cheeks.

"I got it, don't worry about it," Steve interjects quickly to try and get back to the safety of Scoops as soon as possible. He takes Gina's hand gently and puts the money in her upturned palm, grasping her attention again. She puts the money in the register and scribbles on her pad, ripping off a piece of paper.

"A gentleman too?" She says with an approving nod and fans herself, making Eddie roll his eyes. Then, she pushes the piece of paper into Steve's hand. "Pick me up at eight. Wear something nice," she says with a wink before waving around the customer behind them.

Steve gives them both a smile and a wave goodbye as he heads back to the ice cream parlor quickly, sipping his coffee as he goes, though honestly, he doesn't need it anymore. He is wide awake after all of that. Even though he's come out of it relatively unscathed. Eddie is none the wiser, and he's got a date.

Back in the safety of Scoops Ahoy, Steve spies Robin slouching over the counter, waiting on a queue of zero people. He does his best Travolta strut over.

"Wow, you sure that's just coffee in there?" Robin laughs. "It's like you've returned a new man." 

Steve forcefully leans over the counter at her with gusto with a massive smile on his face. "I not only have a number but a date tonight at eight!!" He looks very smug. 

Robin stretches her hand out towards him, and he hands her the slip of paper. Her eyes scan over it.

"Gina?" Robin says in surprise.

"How did you-" Steve starts to ask before he gets cut off again.

"So she did get fired from the department store! Now she has to serve sad sacks like you and Eddie Munson coffee, I see." Robin nods behind Steve. As he turns, Eddie, holding the small cup to his mouth, initially looking startled, is perfectly framed in one of the windows and gives a little wave back.

"I'll pay you back, dude! Promise!" Eddie shouts before breaking into a speed walk to the record store.

"You bought him a coffee?! Why would you do that?" Robin rolls her eyes like Steve has done the stupidest thing in the world.

"He was a couple of cents short. I don't even want it back, honestly." Steve protests as he takes back the paper from Robin, putting it in his jacket pocket.

"You clearly don't understand what you've done," Robin shouts after him as he goes into the back to reclaim the stupid hat and hang up his stuff.

"Then enlighten me! Please, I'm waiting with bated breath here," he sasses back, secretly smiling to himself, only for it to be wiped from his face quickly as the hatch opens abruptly.

"Ok, first of all, you don't understand the paying back thing because you've never been poor, Steve. So it's ten cents to you. It's shame on us, ok? Secondly, you've fed the neighborhood's stray cat by randomly buying Eddie that coffee! He'll keep coming round here now," Robin whines.

"Ok, first of all," he mimics her, "I didn't buy him anything. He put his own money down. I just gave the extra few cents. Why is it so bad if he comes around here, anyway? He doesn't seem so bad to me, Rob." Steve adjusts his hat in the mirror and shoots a finger gun at himself in acknowledgement that he hadn't been wearing the hat when he got Gina's number, so it must be the thing throwing off his game. He also realizes it's the first time he's shortened her name. He likes it.

"You want a satanic cult leader. In our ice cream shop, normally full of vulnerable kids?" Robin protests, and suddenly something dawns on Steve.

"And, since when do you care about our customers?" Steve asks, joining her out front, one hand on his hip and the other on the tiny coffee cup. He narrows his eyes at her, looking for tells. He finds none but calls her bluff. He feigns surprise and laughs, "Oh my god, is he your ex or something?! Is that why you don't want him hanging around here?"

Robin recoils violently. "Oh my god! No! He's not my type."

"Really?" Steve asks with genuine surprise. Eddie was a non-conformist. He was far from ugly. Both musicians, both took drama and liked accessories. But, maybe he was a bit too rough around the edges and loud for Robin, despite how feisty she could be herself.

"Yes! Really!" She protests again, but there is something else here. Robin doesn't make it a habit to judge anyone that isn't a real piece of work type asshole, and though Eddie could be overwhelming, in their short interaction yesterday, he'd seemed quite nice, and due to their mutual school activities, they must have crossed paths often, so she must have seen that side of him too. Unless, like Steve, Eddie had his own mask to survive high school, which made him generally unpleasant to most people, and only let a select few see his genuine parts.

Steve isn't sure that Robin is precisely lying, but she is definitely hiding something.

****************

Steve pulls up outside Gina's apartment complex at 19:50. He's early, but he absolutely does not want to be late. So he waits exactly where Gina had asked him, and parks up, then sits patiently on his freshly washed car hood. 

As he had no idea where they were going yet, he'd opted for something smart casual. The relaxed fit navy blue blazer and slacks combo, and an oh-so-soft pastel blue sweater underneath, perfect for cuddling into if that opportunity arose. Robin and Eddie obviously had made their opinions known on Gina, but he was way too much of a gentleman to make any such assumptions, and people can change.

At 20:08, Gina totters down the steps from the complex in the shortest, lowest cut, tightest, dark purple leather look dress Steve thinks he's seen outside of a music video. She looks incredible. Her body is banging, her makeup is flawless, her permed hair is tossed over in a voluminous side parting, and Steve cannot believe his goddamn luck. Holy shit. She’s a knockout.

He springs into date mode, jogs over to the other side of the street and offers her the crook of his elbow to escort her to the car, "Hey Gina, You look incredible!" Steve greets her beaming proudly.

She pops a chewing gum between her cherry-red lips and says, "You don't look so bad yourself, handsome." At that morsel of praise, Steve's heart soars. He's got it right tonight.

As she takes his arm, and they walk over to the car, he opens the door for her and takes her hand to help her into her seat before he gets in himself, "So, where to?" He asks with a huge smile.

"Ah, well, I thought we'd go to Patty's house party. It's not too far from here. Unless you wanna go somewhere else?" She asks.

"Are you kidding me?" Steve says with a gentle laugh and juts a thumb to himself. "I got the wheels. We can go wherever you want tonight." He turns and smiles reassuringly at her. "Anywhere at all."

She giggles, and Steve has to do everything he can not to rev the engine at his success so far. 

As Gina directs, they hit a reasonably long stretch of road, and it falls quiet in the car, "So… What kind of music do you like?" Steve tries, it was a comfort area, and it let him get a little insight at the same time.

"Oh, all the hits, as long as I can dance to it, you know?" Steve's eyes almost tear from the road to look at her fondly. She's a dancer just like him. He tries to not let his excitement get the better of him and pepper her with a million follow-up questions.

It falls quiet again.

"Is it, um, Patty's birthday or something?" He asks as she reapplies her lipstick again in the pull-down mirror.

"Nah, nothing like that. She's got the biggest free house. Plus, it's right around the corner from the liquor store. It's just here. Look. Take a right." She replies.

They make their way into the party. Steve grabs the bottle of wine from the back seat and quickly moves around to her door to open it and assist her before locking up and offering his arm again. It earns him another melodic giggle, "Such manners, Steve. Is this how you treat all your dates?" She asks playfully, and he knows she means no harm, but unfortunately, it's the first dent in Steve's confidence tonight. She already knew he’s on a losing streak regarding keeping a girlfriend. He tries to see the positive. At least she seemed to like him, and she didn't know he'd recently had trouble getting any dates. He supposes that could give him some kind of playboy status.

It has been a while since Steve had been to a house party like this. It’s rammed with people, primarily seniors but as with Gina, himself and Patty, a few recent graduates too. The girls squeal with delight, throwing their hands into the air as they greet one another, and Gina pulls him forward to be introduced, "Patty, this is Steve. Steve, this is Patty." Steve gives her a big smile and a nod.

"Looks like it's gonna be a killer party. Here, hope you don't mind," he says, passing Patty the wine bottle. She pulls an impressed face and looks over at Gina, raising her eyebrows. Patty's boyfriend gives him a nod.

The party is much more fun than Steve anticipates. Gina likes to dance. A lot. With a little more physical enthusiasm than Steve was used to, but my god, he is the envy of the room. She likes to show Steve off to her friends and kisses him so many times he loses count. She looked incredible at the start of the evening, but she might be the most beautiful creature to walk the planet with how adored she was makes Steve feel. Steve makes a mental note to introduce her to his Mom when she's back in town.

After a small succession of kisses on the swings in Patty's back garden, Gina excuses herself to use the bathroom, "I'll be right back, handsome. Wait here for me? Don't go running off with any other pretty girls, now." She sends him a dazzling smile and a wink, and the love-whipped puppy, previously known as Steve Harrington, nods obediently as she walks inside. Then flicks his eyes to the night sky with a happy sigh.

"Don't fancy the slide, instead, Harrington?" A voice grins from the darkness.

"Eddie? What are you doing here, man?" Steve says in happy surprise. He's still floating around on cloud nine. Eddie sits on the tree stump opposite Steve and lights up a cigarette. The awkward feelings around Eddie were almost all gone. Or at least buried. It was a one-off, just a mixture of unique circumstances. The shame was still in there somewhere, but Gina had eclipsed it all for tonight.

"Oh, you know, I was at the bar, and heard someone mention that one of my old friends was gonna show here, so I tagged along."  He offers the pack over to Steve, who declines and pops a chewing gum in his mouth. Eddie gives him a knowing smile, and Steve grins back and pushes himself on the swing a little, trying to channel some of that excitable energy somewhere."Going that well, huh?" He asks, raising his eyebrow as he pockets the carton.

Steve is desperately trying to remain cool, calm and collected about everything, but he's elated his losing streak is over, and what a woman to end it with. "Honestly, it's going a lot better than I thought it was going to."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks leadingly.

"Yeah," Steve says simply with a sigh, and that's when Eddie's expression changes, his mouth parts a little, but before he can say anything, someone calls out for him.

Patty rushes over, swaying a little, throws her arms around Eddie's neck, and hugs him. Eddie's face is a picture of panic, and Steve hides his laugh behind his hand.

"What you got on you then?" Patty slurs, looking up at Eddie and batting her eyelashes, and suddenly Eddie looks relieved and pulls out a few small bags of weed from inside his leather jacket. Steve observes him with confusion. Eddie said he was on pause dealing-wise.

"Thirty bucks for this little trio," Eddie offers with a toothy smile.

"Thirty!! Come on, Eddie, seriously. I can get twice as much for less," she complains and tugs at his denim vest.

He leans in and says quietly, "Yes, that is true, but I'm right here, and they're not right?" Then he pulls the same face he did at Steve in the record store. He knows he's won.

"Well," she steps closer to him again, and Steve sees Eddie visibly tense as Patty runs her hand up his chest, "Maybe we can come to a different arrangement, Eddie?"

Eddie clears his throat, and his eyes dart to Steve. "Oh hey, Steve, fancy meeting you here." His words are a desperate plea for help, and mischief swirls in Steve. Of course, he could just excuse himself and leave them to it, but something keeps him there, and as Patty turns, he sends her a little wave.

"Yeah, just out for some fresh air," Steve offers, and Eddie relaxes immediately as Patty creates some distance between them. She looks at Steve wide-eyed.

"Oh, hi again, Steve. Having a good night?" She asks nervously.

"It's a really great party, Patty. I'm having the best time," He answers genuinely.

She relaxes and smiles hugely at him. "It was really nice of you to come. Thanks for the wine and for helping Gina out tonight."

Steve smiles back, but he's a little confused. How was he helping Gina out? But before Steve can frame a question, Patty jumps ahead a few steps and answers.

"You're putting on a real show out there. It looks amazing. Though, if I may suggest, you are actually way too nice for her, so you might want to ease off on that a little." Patty enthusiastically reviews their date as Steve's eyebrows raise, and he blinks slowly.

"Hey Patty, how about twenty, huh?" Eddie puts a hand on her shoulder and tries to turn her towards himself, offering her the baggies again. She shrugs him off but fishes the money out of her pocket, her eyes still on Steve.

"Ohhh no," Patty says, overtly pouting her lips to indicate sadness, "widdle Stevie, didn't know." Steve stands up. His heart is pounding.

"Hey, that's enough!" Eddie says sharply to Patty.

"Oh, shut up, Eddie. Everyone knows she turns up to these things with someone and always leaves with Frankie. They're like Kismet or Kermit or whatever." She waves her hands drunkenly in the air. 

"Everyone?" Steve asks in a whisper, and his eyes move from Patty to Eddie, who is frowning deeply. Steve folds his arms, "No, you're wrong. You'll see," he says and takes off back into the party. He can hear Eddie faintly calling after him until he hits the wall of music and chatter of the house.

He looks around for Gina, moving swiftly between rooms, as the flurry of panic starts to set in deep in his chest. They can't be right. Then finally, he catches the sight of her perfectly coiffed hair and pins himself to the other side of the wall, so he can hear her talking without being spotted.

"Are you kidding me? He's not a patch on you, honey. Not nearly as manly as I like, you know? Just a good little boy. Not my big strong bad boy Frankie." He can hear the purr in her voice, and it's followed by a deep chuckle from someone else.

An invisible force punches Steve straight in the guts, forcing all the air from his lungs. The dents in the carapace of his confidence get a few new deep siblings as he dusts himself off and sets off to leave. He knows he should be mad. He should be angry. He should march in there and give them a piece of his mind, but he feels completely numb. What he does do, however, is stop by the kitchen, take back his wine and a random bottle of mad dog 20/20, and slump off to his car.

As he gets closer, he sees a silhouette of someone sitting on the hood of his car. The jingle of them getting off it abruptly and moving quickly towards him lets him know it's Eddie.

"Steve, man, I'm sorry. That fucking sucks. Are you ok?" Eddie tries to reach out and hold his shoulders, but Steve steps back out of reach. Sure, he's deflated, but he doesn't have the reason or the energy to be mad at Eddie.

"You've got nothing to apologize for. No one does. It's not anyone else's fault that I'm too dumb to know what, apparently, everyone else knows," he says a little glumly but finishes it with a half smile and shrug as he moves around him to get in his car, but Eddie, being the scrawny beanpole he is, slips in between Steve and the door.

"Hey, I get it. She got me too. Except, you know I wasn't as good about it as you are." Eddie is talking to him, but Steve is simply trying to unlock his door and ignores him."And you know I would have warned you explicitly if it wasn't you, you know?" That gets Steve's attention.

"What do you mean if it wasn't me?" He asks, turning to face Eddie, whose face is much closer to his than he'd realized, and it causes a mini jump in his pulse. Had Eddie wanted to see Steve made a fool of?

One corner of Eddie's mouth ticks up. "You're Steve Harrington. King of Hawkins. If Gina was gonna change her spots for anyone, I would have put money on it being you." Eddie says it sincerely, but it makes Steve feel worse.

"Ex-King of Hawkins," Steve says, shaking his head, trying to move around Eddie without pushing him away. He wants to leave, but he isn't mad at Eddie.

"And-and the way she was with you at the coffee place. I mean, I thought she was into you. Anyone would have thought that, man. Besides, she was probably totally into you, I mean, look at you, but this guy, this Frankie, they're, like, weirdly obsessed with one another, and then the next minute not speaking to one another," Eddie desperately explains, and Steve can tell he's trying hard to make him feel better about all this.

That's when Steve makes a new category of mistake. He looks up at Eddie's face. His sad eyes meet Eddie's big compassionate ones, glinting with yellow specks of the street light.

"It's weird, honestly," Eddie finishes gently, and Steve gives him an understanding smile back.

"Thanks, man. I get it. I'll be fine. It's just a big misunderstanding. I'll go home, get wasted, and pass out. Then, wake up, and start over. I've bounced back from worse," Steve assures and gives Eddie a playful thump on the shoulder. "You're alright, you know that?" Steve actually manages a small genuine smile as he allows himself to compliment Eddie.

"Do you want some company? I got treats!" Eddie says, holding up three little bags of weed at Steve.

"How many of those do you have on you?" Steve huffs out a little laugh, and Eddie's smile widens.

"Just these three," Eddie smirks, pocketing them again.

"No, you sold three to Patty," Steve corrects him. Eddie leans back against Steve's car door and makes a show of looking thoughtful for a moment before he clicks his fingers like he remembers something.

"Oh darn it. I must have accidentally given her my bags of oregano. Good job you're so astute, Harrington. Otherwise, dinner times next week would have been very interesting." Eddie smiles mischievously, and Steve erupts with a laugh.

"You didn't!" He says, scandalized.

"I wasn't going to until she poked fun at you. Totally uncalled for. Also might have relieved myself in an empty and dropped it in their vat of punch." Eddie shrugs like it's nothing and then blinks up at Steve. "Is that enough to gain entry to a much better afterparty?"

That thing that snapped free in Steve when he was lying on the rug, immersed in the music and thoughts inspired by Eddie, vibrates within him. 

He shouldn't.

He really shouldn't invite anyone back to his house when he feels like this, especially when his intention is to drink himself into forgetting all about Gina.

He absolutely shouldn't let down his guard to someone he's really only got to know the last few days.

He definitely shouldn't specifically welcome the man that resurrected the most secret, sinful parts of Steve into his home, where they would be alone together.

Steve can't decide, so he lets fate decide. "You got any more recommendations on you?"

"Shit, yeah! A fucking van full!" Eddie says enthusiastically.

And with that, Steve ignores every warning sign his brain throws up at him.

"Alright then. Follow me."

************

Eddie's van tails Steve's BMW along the inky black roads of Hawkins, intermittently interrupted by street lights when venturing through a more built-up area.

He turns up the radio a little to try to quieten the confused knot of feelings in his stomach. There was no question he was still feeling shockwaves from recently being absolutely crushed this evening, but now the excitement of something else tickles at the inside of his stomach. Him, Eddie and Music. Some of his private salacious thoughts rush through his mind again. 

Steve would be more alarmed by them if it weren't for a few things. 

Firstly this is not the first time Steve has had impure thoughts about a man. It just wasn't something he was gonna advertise in small-town Hawkins. Especially as he is one hundred per cent not just into guys. He'd sneakily read about it in the library and vowed as soon as he had the means it was definitely the big city for him, a place where other people like him could live much freer lives.

Secondly, he had heard things about Eddie, and he is sure it was because they labeled him a devil worshiper or monster that the town also whispered about him being into the more, what some of the stuck-up people of Hawkins might consider the debauched side of life. He'd heard that when people threw homophobic slurs at him, he played up to them. Flirted with his persecutors to scare people more, but honestly, he had just added that to the massive pile of slanderous gossip about Eddie. Prior to yesterday, he had always assumed that by being in a band, Eddie got his fair share of women. But now he wasn't so sure. Maybe tonight, he'd find out.

Thirdly the only person Steve knew of that had ever assumed him to be anything but straight was his father. So if that rumor started, Steve is confident he could squash it reasonably quickly.

Fourth, and this was probably the cruelest of his thoughts. If he did accidentally say too much or give something away to Eddie tonight, who on earth would believe known degenerate Eddie over golden boy Steve?

Steve had fooled around with just one guy before, Tommy, and always, always, always when they were wasted or high. Tommy said it didn't count, and honestly, Steve didn't mind. He liked Tommy, well, when he wasn't being a complete asshole, but it was more an avenue of mutual exploration than a relationship.

Tommy was handsome, but he was two-dimensional. All their shared interests were superficial. Maybe it was because they had been friends for so long that there wasn't anything to peel back and get his teeth into. He was enough to quicken his pulse, but that had been more to do with the thrill of doing something so forbidden than the man himself. Tommy didn't move Steve. 

But Eddie. 

Eddie might.

With no other cars on the driveway, he waves Eddie forward up to the house once Steve parks up.

He grabs the bottles from his car and sees Eddie emerge with his little lunch box and his arms laden with tapes. Steve unlocks the front door into the dark house and heads inside, Eddie close behind.

"Your folks in bed?" Eddie whispers.

"No, they're out of town. Work, you know?" Steve puts the wine back in the kitchen wine rack and holds up the glass liquor bottle contained within, "Wanna get straight to it, or would you prefer some beers first?" Steve asks with a happy host smile. Eddie is still marveling at the house, his round eyes searching the darkness. Steve wonders what for. 

"Just a beer, thank you," Eddie says slowly, entirely distracted by everything.

"The hi-fi is just through there in the den, or if you wanna smoke, we can sit by the pool?" Steve offers, seeing Eddie's arms still full of tapes.

"What time are your folks back?" Eddie calls back from further away now, as Steve hears the clatter of plastic cassette boxes and the jingle of Eddie's wallet chain as he returns. There must be something special in that, having your own noise, so people know it's you.

"I dunno, not until next week, though, I imagine," Steve says, offering Eddie one of the two beer cans.

Eddie's eyebrows knit. "Next week? Are you for real?"

"Yeah, once I got my license, they stopped getting a nanny in." Steve laughs.

"Was that a joke?" Eddie says, laughing too.

"I mean, I tried. Unfortunately, I'm no Steve Martin." Steve shrugs and smiles happily at Eddie as he stabs and shotguns his beer.

"Who are you, and what happened to sad Steve?" Eddie's eyes narrowly playfully. He wraps his arm around himself as he observes him and takes a sip of his own can.

"You want me to go get him? I'm sure he's around here somewhere…." Steve looks behind one of the drapes.

Eddie's head tilts with pure amusement, and that nice smile spreads across his face again as he observes Steve, "My god, funny too, huh?" There is something in the way his voice softly wraps around the words that sets a slight panic in Steve, almost reaching for the light switch to plunge them into the safety of bright light. Instead, his brain gives him a subject change.

"Shit, what about your friend at the party? Did you get a chance to speak to them?" Steve runs his hand through his hair, realizing he's probably ruined Eddie's night too.

He simply shrugs in reply, then changes the subject himself. "What's with all the candles in there? Did your power go out?" Eddie gestures back to the den. Steve closes his eyes, remembering he hadn't cleaned up in there yet, and then a real fear creeps over him, hoping that he hadn't left anything else incriminating in there. 

Steve half-lies quickly. "Oh, ambience!"

Eddie points back at him. "Yeah, of course, your girl from last night. Setting the scene for seduction," Eddie says, pretending to swoon.

"Well, more for relaxing than romance in particular, but sometimes one can lead to another," Steve says, and he does let that hang in the air for a while to see if there is any reaction from Eddie. Sadly nothing to help him assess him further. Maybe it was too subtle. "Do you maybe wanna head out for a smoke?" Steve asks, turning to get himself another beer.

"Now that is much more my brand of relaxing," Eddie laughs, grabbing his lunchbox.

Steve catches up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Wait, how about you pick out a tape? I'll grab the boom box."

Eddie's eyes move to Steve's hand on his shoulder first, then to his face, with a blink, "Yeah." Steve shakes Eddie's shoulder and gives it a good old sports pat before removing it entirely. He watches Eddie's face for any signs, and he's pretty sure the smile he gives him before he walks towards the treasure trove of tapes is one of disappointed realization. Or maybe Steve had all his hopes resting on that being the case. Hope is such poisoned manna. Maybe physicality wasn't the way to get Eddie to reveal a little more. Maybe Steve could try something else to find the answers to his questions. Something Eddie loves to do. Talk about himself.

Steve sets up the player between two loungers and turns on the pool lights. Ambience, he thinks, though honestly, the waning moon is setting the scene enough for him. He doesn’t wanna make it too obvious. He kicks up his feet on the lounger, sips at his beer, and waits. After a few minutes, he starts to get a little concerned, but as soon as he sits up, Eddie arrives with an entire box of tapes and an excitable smile.

"I, uh, couldn't decide what you might like, so I just brought them all out and found a box in the kitchen; hope you don't mind. Just easier to move 'em around," Eddie excuses and thunks down onto the lounger next to Steve’s. "So take your pick," he says, gesturing at the box and pulling a pre-rolled joint out of his pocket, which he lights up quickly.

This isn't really what Steve wants. He wants Eddie to show him around what Eddie likes. He wants to hear him gush over riffs and lyrics. Tell him how it feels when he plays them, and show him how his dexterous fingers leave no part of the fretboard untouched. But Steve recognises Eddie's apprehension and decides to play the game at least. He reaches into the box with one hand, sorting through the tapes, and with the other, without taking his eyes from the music collection, makes a come hither motion at the joint, which, pleasingly, Eddie acknowledges without protest, and Steve soon finds it slotted between his fingers as he pretends to peruse the album artwork and track listings.

He can feel Eddie's eyes on him, and out of the corner of his eye, he observes Eddie's hands on his thigh and knee and sometimes, when Steve picks up or hovers over a particular tape, his fingers tense, possibly with excitement Steve guesses. He takes a long drag on the shared substance.

To Steve's surprise, the selection of tapes is more varied than he thought. Sure, there is a lot of what he guesses from the names, titles, or artwork are metal, rock, and punk, but there is a chart hits compilation, some new wave electronic stuff, country and classical. Steve hands back the joint and takes a sharp intake of breath as he sits up.

"You know, Eddie. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the choices here." 

"Ah, too many? Sorry. I just didn't know what you'd wanna listen to." Eddie nods apologetically, and something in the way he says it makes Steve wonder if too many or too much is his habit. Maybe he'd been hurt before by people telling him he was too much.

"Well, how about this? How about instead of this being about what I like," Steve looks up to him with a friendly smile, "you show me what you like. Maybe it'll be the same." He gives a little shrug and wonders if Eddie might pick up on any subtext.

"Doubt it," Eddie laughs with a quick glance up at Steve from the tapes.

"Oh, ye of little faith. I really liked the Hendrix one, best out of the three." Steve offers him a guiding thread to assist. He would continue about how he will probably play it to death, but as he looks over, Eddie's face reads excited already.

"Really?" He says, and the innocence of the question makes Steve feel like he's in middle school again. Making friends over sports or movies, but then suspicion rears its ugly little head, and Eddie folds his arms and leans forward. "Oh yeah? Tell me what you liked about it."

Steve doesn't want to give away too much of himself. "Foxey Lady is a fun track, and Fire." Eddie rolls his eyes a little and nods.

"You like Purple Haze too, I bet?" Eddie says a little condescendingly, and he's unsure if it's the beer and weed starting to mix on no food because he didn't know if he was going to dinner with Gina, but Steve feels a little insulted.

"Well, who the fuck doesn't like Purple Haze?" Steve fires back. "It's a great piece of music."

"Whoa-ho-ho, Harrington. Don't get your little panties in a twist. I was just guessing." Eddie chuckles, putting his hands up defensively, offering the olive branch of the joint back to Steve, who takes a pretty deep inhale from it and sends it right back, picking up his beer.

"No, you weren't. I mentioned some popular songs, and you immediately judged me, thinking that's all I listened to when that is not the case at all! Also, that's why they are popular, by the way, because they're great songs. So you could maybe get off your high horse about it." Steve complains and puts Eddie in his place. Or so he thinks.

Eddie's grin widens, and that sparkle in his eye returns, and now Steve can't work out if he's walked right into something or if Eddie is simply amused. His hand extends to him again, and Steve, though a little confused, accepts the smoke and takes another hit.

"I also really liked 'Manic Depression'," Steve adds much more gently, opening the door to his true feelings, a crack, "How it details in the words and melody his relationship with music, the emotion behind in 'The Wind Cries Mary', and that bluesy feel to 'Red House'. Those songs also easily transport you someplace else." Steve says, taking a glug from his can and, realizing it's empty, standing up to get another.

"Wait-wait-wait," Eddie says hurriedly, looking up at him. "Here, I picked this up on the way past too." He holds up the glass bottle that Steve selected from Patty's party. Steve takes it from him and sits back down, knocking back a swig and wincing at the taste and heat, but Eddie ignores it. He has other things to address. "What do you mean someplace else?" He leans forward over the tape box towards Steve, eyeing him like a scientist looks at their specimen.

"In your imagination, you know, the music takes you somewhere else." Steve shrugs, taking another swig as Eddie sips his beer.

"Where'd it take you?" Eddie asks, tilting his head, and though Steve's heart rate quickens at the thought of the truth, he sees an opportunity.

"You sure do ask a lot of questions. What if we trade? I'll answer yours, you answer mine? That seems fairer to me." Steve doesn't have to wait long for a reply, but he’s stalling to craft an answer that doesn't involve revealing more than he wants to.

"Yeah, sure," Eddie says, brushing it off. "So where did they take you, these songs?"

"Ah-ah-ah, Eddie. You gotta answer one first," Steve teases, and Eddie, denied an answer to his question, folds his arms. Steve adds to his assessment.

Adorable sulking face.

"Fine," Eddie pouts.

"So, the three tapes you gave me were great, exactly what I needed, and I thought, how does a guy get so knowledgeable about this kinda stuff, and then I remembered you were in a band, you play, er, bass, right? So I naturally assumed-" Steve lies. He wants to avoid coming across as knowing too much about Eddie.

"Lead guitar, actually. Sing a little too," Eddie interrupts proudly and waves Steve on to continue with his question.

"So I assumed that you must have girls throwing themselves at you? Right?" Steve asks with as innocent curiosity as he can muster. 

"More girls throw themselves at me for drugs than music, but that could change. The stuff I play is becoming more popular," Eddie replies, and Steve tries to see what he can get out of a few quickfire questions.

"Oh, so you're inundated with women then?" Steve asks with a raise of his eyebrow.

"No," Eddie answers.

"Right, you must have a girlfriend…"

"No. Listen, are we here to discuss music or my love life?" Eddie defends, and Steve feels like he must have touched a nerve, so he tries some humor.

He mimics Eddie’s hand gestures and voice from earlier. "Whoa-ho-ho, Munson! Don't get your panties in a knot about it!" And that is enough to make Eddie laugh. "Jesus, I was just getting to know you. After all, you've had a front-row seat to my car crash love life tonight." Steve self-deprecates and laughs, but Eddie doesn't.

"I'm sorry, man. I wish I'd just said something in the coffee line, but I swear what I said earlier was absolutely true. If it had been anyone other than you, I wouldn't have thought they stood a chance and warned them," Eddie says with genuine regret.

Steve takes a swig out of the bottle and reassures him, "Not the first time I got my confidence destroyed at a house party. Maybe it won't be the last, but like I said, I bounce back well enough. Last time was a whole lot worse. Met her parents, told her I loved her and meant it, and thought she did too. Turns out she didn't." Steve glances up at Eddie, who looks sad for him. "Anyway, back to why we're here. Pick a damn tape, Eddie, would ya?" Steve laughs, trying to lift the mood, and holds out the liquor bottle to him, but Eddie declines.

"Can't get too wasted. Otherwise, getting home is gonna be more of a challenge." He smiles down into the tapes.

"You can stay over if you want. There's plenty of room." Steve offers, maybe too quickly. He takes another drink to style it out.

Eddie looks up and acts all shy. "Wow, Harrington! Take a guy to dinner first," he chuckles and grins at Steve, who nearly spits out his drink.

Composing himself a little, he replies, "If I order pizza, does that count as dinner?" Steve smirks.

Eddie flips his hair over his shoulder with a flick of his hand after pushing play on the tape deck, "It's a little less than I was expecting to be wined and dined by Steve Harrington, but, uh, it'll do." He says as he grabs the bottle from Steve and takes a sip, "Holy shit, urgh." He grimaces as the night air fills with chugging guitar riffs, and a voice fills the air that Steve has definitely never heard before.

Eddie happily gestures to the boom box with both hands. "This is the self-titled album by W.A.S.P.”

Steve chuckles, “I know how to spell Wasp!”

Eddie shakes his head, “No you say Wasp but they are actually W.A.S.P.” He beams at Steve and taps the metal pin on his vest, then takes a deep breath, ”anyway It contains such mind-shredding tracks as The Flame, Tormentor, The Torture Never Stops and Show no Mercy, which has one of the finest dick-twitching solos I've ever played." Steve sees Eddie literally shudder, and he's drawn in immediately. This is what he wanted, but before he can push for more information, Eddie is out of his seat pacing around the loungers. "Also the more famous, 'I Wanna Be Somebody', 'Hellion', even a spine chilling cover of 'Paint it Black' by The Stones. For the more romantic souls out there, 'L.O.V.E Machine', 'Sleeping in the fire' and 'Animal' which is more commonly known as," and he leans right down to Steve's ear, "‘I fuck like a beast’. Which is what you're listening to right now." With a laugh, he takes another swing from the bottle, shoving it back into Steve's chest, and walks back around to his lounger, props one foot on it, and starts air guitaring and headbanging along to the song. Steve grips the lounger beneath him for dear life. He swears right there he's gonna get them tickets to every fucking W.A.S.P show he can, and he'll definitely need to buy this album now. Tomorrow, first thing.

"You can play all these?" Steve says, trying not to sound too in awe. Eddie doesn't look up from his fingers on the imaginary fretboard, and honestly, Steve doesn't blame him.

"Pretty much. Better at my favorites or the ones we play in the band." Steve needs to see that, or maybe that would undo him completely. Maybe best not to. Steve imagines how he looks on stage, sweating under the lights, straining as he yells into the microphone. "So where did it take you?"

"What?" Steve asks, wholly lost in his thoughts.

"Maybe you should slow down there, champ. Are you alright? You look a little flushed." Eddie stops what he's doing and goes over to his little lunch box, retrieves a small candy bar, and sits next to Steve on the lounger, placing it in Steve's lap. "Lemme see." Eddie grasps Steve's jaw in one hand and examines him, his eyes comically wide as he analyzes him, making Steve giggle. Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile, and taps his face, snatches up the candy bar and tosses it back in his lunch pail. "You're good." He shrugs off his jackets and leans against the backrest of Steve’s lounger, a long leg on either side of the part where Steve is sitting, making their legs graze one another occasionally as he sparks up a cigarette, which he balances in the corner of his lips. "Hendrix, where did it take you?"

The sudden display of open confidence, the way he just splays his long limbs out like that. Like he owns the place, makes something squirm inside of Steve, and maybe he feels a little shy now, saying, "I dunno, maybe it's lame." Eddie frowns as he plucks the cigarette from his mouth.

"I'll let you know if it's lame." He says, blowing smoke rings in the air.

"Er. It's difficult to explain, but sorta like things I know from that era and sound, psychedelic colors, and then like imagining watching it live," Steve's mind takes him right back to last night, "and 'Hey Joe' was like being pulled into a landscape painting, 'Are you experienced?' and 'Stone Free' was like moving through outer space, you know? Maybe I'm talking shit, but that's where I went anyway," Steve finishes, avoiding Eddie's eyes a little, as when he says it aloud for the first time, it loses all its magic.

"You listen to all music like that? I mean, go places?" Eddie mutters the question softly, and Steve chances to look over, and Eddie's expression almost looks hopeful.

"No, it just kinda happens sometimes. Like a daydream almost, and then I get these like tingles-" Steve starts, but Eddie finishes.

"Along your neck and arms?" And now Steve can hear the excitement in his voice, so he turns to him and indicates along his cheekbones, arms and legs.

"Yeah, kinda," Steve replies, and it doesn't feel bad at all having Eddie's eyes move over him like that.

"Do you play an instrument?" Eddie asks, sitting forward towards Steve now, his eyes eager for answers. Steve doesn't want to get his hopes up too high, but Eddie has not ridiculed him. Hasn't made an awkward face or an excuse to leave. If anything, he wants more, and with that power shift again, Steve tries something else. He leans back on his elbows across the lounger, his arm resting a little on Eddie's leg, and stretches out his torso comfortably.

"Eddie," he smiles, "I gotta get some questions in, too, you know?"

"Oh yeah, shoot, dude," Eddie says matter-of-factly.

"Are you gonna bite my head off again if I ask about your love life?" Steve asks with a laugh.

"Fine, as long as you tell me why you're so interested because I'd much rather be talking about music, honestly." And with a reply like that, it's almost as if Steve already has his answer.

"Look, in the record store, you were selling me that Mötley Crüe album, happy as anything, and I knew you were in a band, so my brain just assumed you were like a chick magnet, just maybe not the ones from school, you know? But then you got all nervous when I asked you about music girls liked, and whilst there isn't anything wrong with that, it wasn't what I expected. So does that explain better?"

Eddie looks a little sheepish but then smiles and shrugs. "Sorry to burst your Eddie Munson bubble there, Harrington."

Steve gestures at himself. "It's overrated. Living proof right before your eyes. Music doesn't let you down like that, though, huh?" And that earns him a sweet smile, "So tell me to fuck off at any point, but I sort of can't believe it, honestly. So is it that you don't have a girlfriend right now, or like never have?"

"Define girlfriend," Eddie says, playing with his rings.

"A girl you've taken on a date," Steve says.

"Yeah, I've had a girlfriend or two then," Eddie says, but Steve doesn't detect any fun glimmers of nostalgia, but that squashed one Hawkins rumor about Eddie, he obviously liked girls.

"But…" Steve leads him a bit further.

"But that was literally it. We just went to the movies or the diner for milkshakes," Eddie says, a little disappointed.

"You ever taken Robin, the girl I work with, on a date?" Steve pries a little further.

"Not a date as such. We just used to hang around one another a lot for a while, and then, erm," Eddie looks thoughtfully into the sky, "then I guess I asked her something, probably too personal, and I'm definitely not telling you what it is, so don't ask, and she's kind of avoided me since." Eddie looks regretful, and Steve decides to give him a break.

"I don't play an instrument. I tried a bunch of different ones but could never get one to stick. Even tried singing, which I'm ok at, but you know, not opera or anything like that."  Steve sighs and looks up to the night sky. "No matter how much I love music, I just don't have the talent to make or mimic it, apparently."

"Maybe you just had a shit, stuck-up teacher," Eddie says quickly, and that does bite of a lived experience. "When I was a kid before I moved here. I had this teacher; all he wanted to teach me was like campfire songs to do with god or nursery rhymes. I learned enough to find my way around the acoustic, but then, well, I couldn't go anymore, but honestly, by that point, I didn't want to. He sucked." Eddie raises his eyes to Steve, "But then I got here. Just my clothes and my guitar slung across my back and moved in with my Uncle. Now that guy taught me how to play. We figured out that I could actually, when not being bullied into some kumbaya shit, play by ear, and when I'd get stuck, Wayne would help me. He showed me all his anti-war favorites and even started off my savings for the guitar I have now. He got me a second-hand electric pretty quickly and amps. He's good like that. Finding the best bits of people and nurturing them. Probably regrets it a little now, though." Eddie laughs with so much fondness in his voice.

"I bet he doesn't. I bet he loves seeing how much you enjoy playing." Steve nods at the sky.

"If you wanted, I could help you learn guitar. Well, what I know anyway," Eddie says kindly, which makes Steve ignore the entire cosmos and focus on him.

"What, like what we're listening to now? Play like you?" Steve blurts out excitedly.

Eddie tries to hide his smile, "Well, anything you like, really, and I can't guarantee you'd be as good as me, but we'd try," he says as the repressed smile breaks out across his face, and Steve gives him a little playful shove, and this time Eddie returns it.

"Alright, you're on. I'll take a look at guitars tomorrow." Steve grins back.

"You can borrow one of mine if you like? It's no problem" Eddie shrugs like it's nothing, and Steve nervously swallows. God, he wants this. Wants Eddie. Wants someone who knows what he means when he explains how a song makes him feel. Who doesn't laugh at him or make a face and knows so much. Eddie feels like a drug that would be the multi gateway to everything he could possibly need. They sit silently for a minute or so, "The girlfriend thing. I, uh, well, I stopped trying because I'd get so nervous. The date would be fine, you know, I can talk the ears off of the corn harvest, but, uh, I'd just bottle it at the goodbye. I just built it up in my head too much, I think. I just wanted to get it right, and when presented with the opportunity, I thought I was gonna fuck it up, so I'd just hug them goodbye. Then they'd think I didn't like them, but I'm too much of a coward to admit I was scared, so I just stopped trying." 

"Well, you're not a coward. Navigating girls can be terrifying, Eddie, and maybe," Steve turns on his side towards Eddie on the lounger, propping his head up on his hand, "maybe you just had a bunch of shit, stuck-up teachers."

"Yeah, well, if kissing lessons were something I could buy, Harrington, believe me, I would have already invested heavily a long time ago." Eddie laughs, playing with his rings again, and Steve's so happy that Eddie isn't looking at him right now because he is literally chewing on his bottom lip, desperately trying to find a way to gently prod the opportunity the universe just chucked into his lap. Come on, Steve. 

"Well, if I'd known there was a market for that sort of thing, maybe I wouldn't have to be working slinging ice cream to attitude-filled kids loaded up on sugar." Steve laughs, looking down at and playing with the material threads of the lounger, and then glances up at Eddie subtly. 

Steve's heart skips when he finds Eddie looking up at him from under his hair, frozen, mid-picking at his nails.

"How many first kisses do you think you've been?" Eddie asks, and Steve can hear the curious caution in every word.

Fighting his every urge, Steve breaks eye contact to look up, like he's pretending to remember them all. He doesn't actually know. "Oh tons, and you know it is exactly what you said. It's all just nerves. Most of them get much better once the first one's over. Probably the same as the first time you played on stage. I'm guessing here, but you probably still get a little nervous now, but not enough to stop you, right?" Eddie makes a thoughtful noise in response, and Steve hopes he's done enough leading, but all he really wants is a red or green light to let him know what to do next, but they're sort of stuck in a kind of limbo, and he can feel the tension in him, stretching, and any minute now it's just going to snap. "I think you'll find it easy once you get past the nerves, sure there are some dos and don'ts, but, it's mostly playing it by ear, reading the other person, and from what you've said, those things come easily to you, right?"

"Right." Eddie agrees, "How did you learn, or did it just happen organically, like when it's supposed to?" Steve almost feels a little sorry for him, and he could tell the truth here, that it had just naturally occurred sitting on the porch with his middle school girlfriend watching the sunset, or he could bend the truth a little, maybe making Eddie feel better and nudge at this situation simultaneously.

Steve readjusts his position. He sits up and straddles the lounger, mirroring Eddie, facing one another. "If I tell you, you are absolutely sworn to secrecy. Ok? Like to the grave!" Steve says as seriously as he can, and Eddie perks up. His eyes revert to an excited look as they scan Steve, hungry for secrets, with a couple of enthusiastic nods. "No, you gotta swear. I mean it! I'd never live it down." Steve lays it on thick as he looks Eddie right in the eyes.

He frowns slightly to show his earnestness, "I swear, man. I would never tell. Also, even if I wanted to, that would involve exposing myself too. Why was I talking about first kisses with Steve Harrington in the first place, right?"

"Yeah," Steve makes a show of relaxing a little, and Eddie shuffles forward a little, leaning into the secret. "So believe it or not, before my first kiss, I was much like yourself, nervous about it, and I was talking to my best friend about it, and they felt the same, so we kinda, uh, practiced with one another?"

Eddie deflates a little. "Oh, I see. Well, that's not so bad. Handy to have a willing girlfriend around to help out." Eddie forces an awkward laugh.

"It wasn't my girlfriend, Eddie. It was my best friend," Steve says, hammering down each word like the heaviest hints of all time.

"You know what I mean, a friend who's a girl," Eddie says, and Steve really doesn't want to have to spell it out, but it looks like he might have to. He adds to his Eddie assessment.

Intelligent but can't read between the lines.

"I've not had a girl best friend since kindergarten, Eddie." Steve tries again.

Eddie looks horrified. "You were kissing in kindergarten? Jesus! Way to make me feel even worse about all of…" and then he stalls, like his brain engine full on cuts out. His eyes move around the lounger in between them like he's solving the meaning of life, and suddenly his head lifts, and his eyes lock with Steve's, "Your first kiss wasn't with a girl? I-I mean…your friend…it was a boy. The one you practiced kissing with was a boy. A boy?" Steve can't hold back his laughter and just nods, putting a hand on either side of his own face like he's mortified.

"Please don't tell anyone, Eddie. I just wanted you to know, as much as it would appear, I'm pretty confident in that department now. I was just as nervous as you once." Steve smiles, and his heart is pounding hard. It was a risk. A big one, but if it meant either squashing this crush or the impossibility that maybe this could happen, he needed to take it. 

"Right, ok," Eddie says, and it makes Steve a little concerned because he sounds a little panicked. Steve's heart sinks.

"Want another beer? I'm gonna go get one," Steve says, using his chipper customer service mask. He makes sure to smile big at Eddie like he isn't getting his heart crushed for the second time this evening, though this time is entirely his fault.

"Yeah, I could go for another beer," Eddie says without looking at Steve. Well, at least he didn't want to leave immediately. That was one good thing, Steve thinks as he walks as casually as possible to the fridge, ducks his head inside it, and curses.

"Shit!" He whispers and takes a deep breath before grabbing two cans. Then he hears a faint jingle.

"Is it much different?" Eddie's voice comes from the dark of the kitchen, and the rate at which Steve's head lifts makes him bang it on the refrigerator.

Steve rubs his head. "Jesus Christ, dude. Don't sneak up on me like that." He hands the can to Eddie and heads out to the pool again, but Eddie stops him, a gentle hand on his arm.

"Is there much difference between the two?" At first, Steve is confused, maybe from the jump scare or the bump to his head, but then he catches on.

"Erm…I dunno. It wasn't really a side-by-side comparison, and we were a lot younger then, but no, I don't remember anything being too different. Other than the person, but then you can kiss two girls, and they can be different too. Not everyone likes the same things, but like I say, you'll read that easy enough, or they'll let you know if they like or don't like something." It's dark in here, but he can still read the confusion on Eddie's face. "It would be kinda like you teaching guitar students to play the same song. They might all have different guitars. Some might have favored acoustic over electric, and some might embellish on parts, but it's still recognisable as the same song. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, that does make sense." Eddie's voice is much more at ease, "And even though you kissed a guy, you still like girls, right?"

"I feel like I don't need to answer that, Eddie." Steve rolls his eyes and puts a hand on his hip, making Eddie laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry. I forgot about earlier." Eddie chuckles.

"That's ok. If it wasn't for you, my night could have ended a lot worse, that's for sure." Steve says thankfully. "Your friend being in town was pretty lucky."

"Hmmm, yeah, that was lucky, wasn't it." Eddie's rings tap the side of his beer can as he sways from side to side a little, and soon, some things are coming together for Steve.

"There was no friend at the party, was there?" Steve says in realization, and Eddie smiles and shakes his head in a no. "You knew what was gonna happen because you found out that guy was gonna be there."

"I suspected. I didn't know. What I said earlier was true about Gina liking you. I also remember how shitty I felt when it happened to me, but when I got there, you looked like you were having a great time, so I went to leave but heard him in one of the other rooms, and I just suspected the worst." Eddie explains, and doesn't Steve's whole heart swell at such a level of sweetness and care. He barely knew him, but he still looked out for him.

"Thanks, man," Steve smiles fondly at him. Maybe other things were impossible dreams, but he feels sure he at least has a new friend, "You know what? I'm gonna take you up on your offer. How much do you charge for a lesson?" 

"Well, I thought maybe," Eddie scratches the back of his head, "Maybe we could…I dunno…er…trade expertise?" He suggests. It's a good job Steve had spent most of his life learning to hide his emotions when he needed to, specifically for moments like this. His heart is thundering in his chest, his brain is scrambled with a million different types of static, and his hand wants to crush the can in his grip with sheer excitement. Two days ago, this wasn't even on his radar. Two days ago, this delectable taboo wasn't even on his menu. It was on a hidden secret menu only he knew about, and yet here it was, being presented on a silver platter, and it's taking every ounce of resolve he has not to grab hold of it and greedily consume it quickly before the invitation is revoked. Oh, and he knows he's been bad tonight, a little trick here and a little lie there, and maybe he does feel like a bit of a creep about it, but it's not enough to say no. He was jonesing for something he'd never even tasted, but every neuron and hormone in his body told him he wanted it. No. He needed it. He'd let future Steve live with the regret and consequences.

"Sure. That sounds good," he says pleasantly. "When shall I book you in?" He says with a friendly laugh.

"Uh, now?" Eddie says.

"Now?" Steve says, a little surprised.

"Yeah, once I get the first one done. I'm good, right? Just beginner's stage fright. Then I can grab the guitars out of the van, and I can return the favor," Eddie says like he's working through the facts in his head, and suddenly Steve's excitement is a little dampened. Eddie wanted it over with, and Steve guesses he expected it, but hearing it out loud from Eddie kinda stung a little, but that was fine, right? Or would a taste of honey be worse than none at all?

"Yeah. Cool. Um, where do you think you'd feel most comfortable? It's your nerves that are the issue, so what do you do to relax?" Steve asks, and Eddie laughs.

"Well, we've kind of already been doing that, but, uh, maybe not outside somewhere a bit more private. But, uh, this is my first time here, so I don't know where would be best." He looks around for a second. "What about where you set up last night?" Steve gives a one-shoulder shrug like his insides were not currently leapfrogging over one another to see who could get a chug of that sweet adrenaline first.

"Sure. I'll tidy up my crap, and why don't you bring your stuff in, so we can pick a song you can teach me afterwards?" 

"Gotcha! See you in a sec, smoochy-poo," Eddie cackles, and Steve laughs too, out of excitement more than anything, but he's glad Eddie is making light of the situation. It's sneaky and underhanded, but it eases the guilt hearing him joke about it, even if this was going to mean something to Steve but nothing to Eddie.

Steve quickly tidies away his tapes and almost dies when he notices he'd left the bottle of lotion down here and quickly kicks it under a chair to worry about tomorrow. He turns off the light and decides it's too dark, but with the light on, it is too bright. He decides to light one candle, so a bit of light is cast around the room, but the main lights are all off. Then he tries to find the most casual standing pose he can, trying a few, realizes he's being stupid and then fluffs some cushions, just to put the energy somewhere.

The door opens soon enough, and Eddie barrels in, tape deck in one hand, box of tapes in the other, which also now contained his lunchbox, some fresh beers, and the partially emptied bottle of liquor. His silhouette stops dead in the doorway.

"Why's it so dark in here?" Eddie asks a little nervously.

"Well, I thought, if you couldn’t see me, you could maybe pretend I was someone you wanted to kiss, you know. Maybe that would help?" Steve says kindly. "I can put the lights on if you want. It doesn't bother me." 

Eddie dumps the things in his arms, W.A.S.P still pouring out of the portable tape deck's speakers. "No, no. You're right. This is good. I trust you to be the expert here." As he turns and walks towards Steve, the light hits his face, and Steve can at least see and hear he's smiling a tiny bit.

"Ok, so, here is what I think, and if any of it feels like it's gonna make you or is making you feel uncomfortable, just say, ok? You're under no pressure here," Steve reassures him, and despite how much he wants this, he does mean that. "I thought we could do it standing, and I'll keep my hands by my sides, just in case you are worried about anything I told you earlier, and you can just go for it. No judgment, and I'll help you if you want me to, ok? Eddie's rules," Steve says kindly.

"Eddie's rules," he repeats and steps forward toward Steve, who is busy trying to be as still and least intimidating as he can, but he can see as Eddie approaches he's shaking, almost vibrating.

"Are you cold?" Steve asks, concerned.

"No, just nervous," Eddie says, his voice trembling.

Steve lifts his arms slowly from his sides to either side of Eddie's shoulders. "May I?" He says, and Eddie nods. Steve places his hands on Eddie's upper arms.

"Look at me, Eddie." And those big brown doe eyes sweep up to meet Steve's gaze. "You've nothing to worry about. You wanna not do it. That's fine. We can try another time or never speak of it again. If it's awful, you've lost nothing. I'm not someone you need to impress with this, and I'm not gonna tell a soul for obvious reasons. You're safe here." He rubs Eddie's arms gently. "And if you wanna crank the music up, move me somewhere else, change the lights, or anything at all, you can. Eddie's rules, remember?" And Steve knows this image of those sweet candle-lit eyes looking at him for reassurance might be etched into his brain forever. He removes his hands and puts them down by his sides. "Consider me like, I dunno, like a mannequin or something."

"Alright," Eddie says quietly. He's still shaking a little but not as much, and it is adorable, even if it is a million miles from the wild rock star Steve had pictured in his imagination. It is stunning, nonetheless. The candlelight was a mistake. He looks beautiful in it. 

Eddie does turn the music up, and on his way back to Steve appears to be psyching himself up, pacing around and rolling his shoulders, like he'd seen plenty of times in locker rooms before a game, and he desperately wants to laugh, but doesn't want to shake Eddie's confidence. So he waits with the same patient, friendly smile on his face.

Eddie finally takes a few steps towards him. "Ok, I got this. It's just like mwah and done. Easy." Eddie speaks his inner monologue aloud whilst staring intensely at Steve's mouth before his eyes flick up to Steve's, who returns a kind nod. Eddie rubs his hands together. "Right, here goes nothing."

Eddie closes the gap, and just like that, Eddie Munson is kissing Steve Harrington. It is one of the most fantastic and agonizing things Steve has ever experienced. Eddie's mouth is so soft and pillowy. This close, Steve can absorb the full bouquet of his aromas. Alcohol, weed, tobacco, leather, pine, patchouli, musk, engine oil, a hint of gasoline, and it's so heady Steve wants to roll his eyes back into his skull and live here forever. He smells like high-speed rock ‘n’ roll, and Steve wants it bottled. And yet, at the same time, he's restricted. He can't reach out to pull Eddie closer. He can't deepen this kiss. He can't plunge his hands into his wild hair or explore under his shirt. He has to stay perfectly still for Eddie.

Steve unexpectedly adds 'Good Kisser' to his Eddie assessment.

This memory would always have to be Steve's secret album track. One hidden after minutes worth of silence right at the end of side B that wasn't even labeled on the album itself. Hidden away from prying eyes, only there for him when he felt like delving deeply enough, but he knows this is always going to be in his top ten. A mental polaroid, their mouths perfectly fitted together just like this.

Eddie tilts into it a little more, and Steve's every fiber is crying out to match his energy, but he promised he'd stay still, but he could be pliant. There is an extra wave of alcohol between them as Steve feels pressure from Eddie's tongue, teasing his mouth to part slightly. He obliges willingly but knows not to give too much. Eddie's doing the driving here. He tries to relax by forcing his focus on the music.

Magic runs through my fingers-

One touch you'll see

Steve feels Eddie's hand gently touch the side of his face as if instructed by the singer, but then he pulls it away quickly. Steve breaks the rules, puts Eddie's hand back on his face, and pats it. Trying to let him know it's ok, but Eddie pulls away entirely. However, he keeps the distance minimal. The smile on his face is enormous, and Steve mirrors it. 

Steve wants to let out a sigh so full of longing it might launch a million love songs from bridge to chorus. A lonesome howl. Instead, he does what he's supposed to. He keeps the beat and holds that friendly smile like that didn't just happen. Like that kiss wouldn't be embossed onto his lips whenever he hears a singer croon about unrequited love. His hand forever pressed against the window pane of a place he's not on the list for.

"See, easy. You did it, man. First kiss. Check. Done." Steve draws a tick in the air with his hand, but Eddie isn't looking. He might not even be listening. Instead, his eyes are still trained on Steve's mouth.

"Say, could I get a redo on that? I noticed something, and I wanna try something else," Eddie says excitedly, and Steve can hardly believe his luck. Praise whatever powerful being is allowing this to happen right now.

"Sure thing. It's your time. Anything I can help with?" Steve asks, trying not to sound too eager to please.

"Can you, um, how can I put it….can you kiss me back this time, so I know what that feels like?" Eddie asks, the grin on his face unmoving. A Roy Orbison 'Have Mercy' rings through his brain. For Steve, it might as well be Christmas right now, it's not everything he wants, but it's something, and to be honest, the universe has let him get away with a lot this evening. 

L.O…V.E.

Keeping his cool and calm facade up, he replies, "Yeah, sure, I can do that. It's your rules, man. Your hands are fine, too, by the way. Sorry if I scared you. I was trying to let you know it was ok." He smiles more gently, and Eddie nods before turning around quickly to turn the music up even louder.

Steve notices that Eddie isn't shaking anymore, and that sweet innocent look in his eyes appears to have disappeared entirely. It feels ridiculous to even think, but if he was going to label how Eddie looks right now, he'd use the word ravenous. The backdrop of the guitar screaming out of the speakers only makes Steve's pulse race faster. Even Eddie's posture is straighter. He’s standing a little taller. His eyes don't move from Steve's mouth until he's swaggered back to where he was, their noses an inch or so apart; his eyes flick up to Steve's, and he actually winks at him, but before Steve can process what all these changes mean or where they've come from, their mouths connect again, and he is literally manhandled. 

Eddie's hands yank Steve's arms around him, leaning his back against them like he wants Steve to touch him. Meanwhile, Eddie's hands are taking a whistlestop tour of Steve. Pushing and feeling over his torso and arms as they make their way up to his neck and into his hair, Eddie eases Steve's mouth open with his own, tugging gently on his bottom lip.

The message center in Steve's brain is in two distinct factions right now: Team 'What the hell is happening?' and Team 'Hell yeah, let's fucking go!". Only then does he remember he should be doing something other than letting Eddie paw over him and try to engulf him entirely. 

Steve kisses Eddie back, licks into his mouth with all the hunger he'd been restraining, and lets his hand smooth up Eddie's t-shirt. The feeling of his body through the fabric would be unforgettable. Steve's hands are the steady grounding bass groove to Eddie's hurried electrifying lead. He is in the throes of it now, so it's really not his fault that when he feels Eddie tug on his hair slightly, he instinctively roughly pulls Eddie closer, pressing them together. The force of which pushes a grunt from Eddie, making a bolt of lightning shoot straight into the pit of his stomach. 

This is the Eddie he'd been fantasizing about, powerful, rough, brain-frazzling, just like the guitar riffs he'd been listening to that night. Who knew it was lying in wait behind one little kiss? Maybe Steve wasn't such an awful judge of character after all. He isn’t sure what is going to happen after this. Perhaps they'll be so embarrassed they'll never talk to one another again, but the lines have been crossed now. So as far as Steve is concerned, he is going to sprint into this tryst until Eddie close-lines him to the floor by simply telling him 'No' or 'Stop'.

The loud music in his ears, and the sweet melody Eddie is playing with his body, makes Steve flip the bird at the angel complaining on his shoulder as he moves one of his hands to grip Eddie's lithe waist, thumbing into the flesh with the safety barrier of the material between. The other moves all the way north to get lost in that wild mane between his fingers as he grips into it lightly, doesn't pull, just wants to feel around in there, and it is glorious. He feels Eddie's tongue retract from the wrestling match it had been having with his own, his lips smile against him before he tugs hard on Steve's hair, tipping his head backwards with force, making him emit a noise he hadn't ever heard himself produce before, inspired by a place somewhere between pleasure and pain.

Both panting for air, Steve, though in an awkward position, decides to make light of the situation. He doesn't want Eddie to stop and figures humor will let him know everything is still good. "Not bad for a second kiss, Munson."

"Careful, Harrington. You wouldn't want anyone to think you're having a good time here, innocently helping out your new buddy, right?" Eddie's sultry smile descends into a smirk as he licks a fat stripe from the base of Steve's throat all the way up to his chin, along his jawline until he's dragging his teeth over his ear, and now Steve's eyes do roll back into his skull, his eyelids flutter shut, as he feels his blood thunder south. Steve decides that the town is wrong, Eddie doesn't worship the devil. The level of temptation and amount of sinful thoughts surging through Steve right now might mean that he is in the hands of Apollyon himself. Relief sweeps over him as Eddie finally pushes him into a wall, glad for something to help keep him standing.

He worries about the potentially embarrassing firmness rapidly developing below his belt, and a good Steve, a wise Steve, would tell Eddie to ease up, but those Steves are out to lunch. The only Steve remaining is munching on popcorn, yelling more, more, more, and switching every sign to green. "Jesus Christ, Eddie," is all he manages breathlessly.

Eddie's hand is still firmly holding Steve's head back as his other hand caresses his face and starts to move achingly slowly down his neck and chest as Eddie rasps in his ear, "You know, Harrington, you really should learn to ask more open questions." He must see the look of confusion on Steve's face because he laughs deeply, and it vibrates through Steve's body, not helping his current predicament in any way.

Another tug on his hair, and the hand on his chest moves lower still. Eddie's fingers trace gently along the outlines of his muscles through his sweatshirt. It's only then Steve realizes his own hands have turned limp against Eddie. He forces his eyes to look to the side to finally meet Eddie's in the darkness, waiting for answers that aren't emerging. Steve dips the fingers of the hand on Eddie's waist, along the waistband of his jeans, and he runs them around it gently until he finds a belt loop to hook a finger into and pulls Eddie against him again. A gasp and groan swim into Steve's ear. At the same time, he feels Eddie's stiffness against his hip. Steve bites down so hard on his own lip he's sure it might draw blood. "What do you mean?" He manages when the ability to think and speak finally returns.

Eddie deeply chuckles again before slowly, rhythmically thrusting his hips against Steve, causing a harmony of noises from them both. "Mmm, we sound good together, don't we?" Eddie purrs as his eyes trail over his face. The rough denim shifts the fabric of his trousers over his leg. The outside has the firm pressure from Eddie, but it's when the material gently brushes up and down the inside of his thigh that is really causing a cerebral malfunction. Steve should stop him. This is too far, too telling, he's exposed what he is, letting him get away with it, but if he does, this might never happen again, and he wants this so badly. Everything about this guy is musical. His tempo and basal noises are like sinful arias that Steve wants on repeat, his fingertips moving over him, conducting Steve's body to do exactly whatever he wants. Eddie ceases his pelvic onslaught. "I have a confession," he mutters gently as his fingers move to the lines where Steve's abdomen meets his hips, making Steve's usually very comfortable slacks feel like his worst enemy. "You see, I kinda didn't lie, but I didn't tell you the whole truth either." 

On instinct, Steve's fingers have been working away at freeing Eddie from his clothes. This is usually where a girl might bat his hand away, or if he was lucky, they'd help him out by removing it themselves. Eddie doesn't do that. He keeps his eyes on Steve and does nothing to stop or aid him. He simply allows it. With the freedom he's clearly been bestowed, Steve isn't sure why he doesn't immediately relieve Eddie of his clothes. Instead, it makes him untuck Eddie's band tee much more slowly than he actually wants to, like carefully unwrapping a gift. But as Eddie stops talking, he stops untucking. A smile ticks at the corner of Steve's mouth like he's playing a little game. Eddie pushes him lower slightly, so he can look down into his eyes as he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. It's a spinning coin of who has the power here, and Steve didn't realize until right now how soul-stirring that could be.

"We were talking about girls, right?" Eddie continues, a subtle tremble appearing in his voice, and Steve teases some of the fabric free as he speaks, his finger accidentally ghosting over the skin underneath. Eddie's words cease. Steve stills his fingers and watches him crumble slightly. Eddie whines and bites his lip, nodding, before taking a deep breath. "And everything I said about girls was one hundred percent true. I'd never outright lie to you. It was just a simple twisting to just see if…." Steve continues around his waistband until he realizes Eddie is repeating himself, and he starts tucking the t-shirt back in and moves his hand away. "No-no-no," Eddie says much more quickly, dropping out of his deep sultry tone to something Steve is more used to hearing, and he pouts.

"That's cheating," Steve smiles up at him.

"Sorry, sorry," Eddie apologizes and takes Steve's hand, placing it back where it was. "Please."

"Then confess," he says sternly, making Eddie wet his lips with his tongue.

"I hadn't kissed a girl. I tried. I like girls. I dated a bunch." Eddie's storytelling trait leaves the building, as all he is left with are short sentences, his eyes looking for Steve's hand teasing the material until the shirt is entirely free. He swallows thickly before he speaks again, "And I did give up after I chickened out a few times. That was all true." Steve's hand slithers under the soft cotton fabric of Eddie's T-shirt, and as his fingertips touch Eddie's stomach, his head flies back, and Steve can see his Adam's apple bobbing away, as he unleashes a string of whispered curse words into the air; his chest heaves up and down, and his grip almost pulsing in Steve's hair. He stays perfectly still, waiting for Eddie to return from wherever his brain and Steve's touch just sent him. Lets his hand linger, hoping it weaves a white-hot print into his skin forever. Hopes the place is accidentally brushed over one day, and this moment swamps his brain like the sweetest refrain.

'Cos bad boys they do

After a few seconds, his head lowers again, looking intensely into Steve's eyes, and he can feel the smooth abdomen and rise and fall against his palm. Other than the subtle movements of their bodies, they are caught in a stalemate. Without breaking their shared lustful stare save for an occasional blink, Steve flexes his trembling fingers lightly so the tips of them brush featherlight against Eddie’s softer-than-expected skin, and Eddie’s eyelids flicker for a moment. “So if that was all true, what was the lie?” Steve asks softly as his fingers graze over small patches of his torso, making minute circles that he is unsure about dealing out. Steve had felt a sizable number of bodies before, but this one is hot as a volcano and potentially just as volatile with one incorrect shifting of the fault-riddled ground they’d made together tonight. He has no idea what is too far here. Steve feels he is walking a high wire of intimacy. One wrong move and it could all be over. It all comes flooding into his mind at once how very little he knows about Eddie. How potentially dangerous this could be. What if Steve crosses a line, and it sets him off? Steve’s heart pounds in his chest, unsure of how to proceed.

With his head still tilted back in Eddie's hand, he looks down his nose and gingerly reaches out for Eddie's hand, wraps his fingers cautiously around his wrist, and to his relief, he lets him take it. He places it on his wrist, partially obscured by the T-shirt it hides under. Steve meets his eyes again, and Eddie’s hand chases after Steve’s under his shirt. He looks down at Eddie’s chest, can make out the bumps of his knuckles through the cotton, and spreads his fingers slightly so they disappear, and Eddie’s digits fall into the spaces between his own. A slight glint of a smile twitches at the corner of Eddie’s mouth as he tightens his grip and moves Steve’s hand over his body with a gulp, watching Steve like a hawk, and for a moment, he thinks maybe Eddie is just as scared of him. He moves their hands slowly to his chest, and his eyes close as he licks his lips. His chest is rising and falling much more profoundly and hurriedly now. He smooths their loosely joined hands slowly down him to his side, over the ripple of his ribs under Steve's fingertips. Eddie observes Steve the whole time, and the tension is eating away at him, so he pushes. “You didn’t answer. What was the lie?” Steve asks again.

Eddie's hand leaves him, and his skin misses the red-hot heat of his palm already. It shoots out to the side of Steve's head against the wall, and Eddie slowly bends his elbow to lean his face back into Steve’s space. Steve tries his absolute best to stay calm, but his heart thunders in his chest, and his eyes flicker back down to Eddie’s mouth. He feels a deep ache—one more kiss. One more, and then he’ll stop.

Eddie’s smile grows to a wicked thing above him as he studies Steve’s face. "The lie? No, Steve. Not a lie, just not the whole truth. I’ve never kissed a girl, and I do like them. But I also like guys.” Steve’s eyes must betray him entirely with surprise because Eddie’s grin widens, ”And I kissed a whole bunch of them a whole lotta times," he manages before adding to that total by kissing Steve ferociously, clashing them together almost painfully and pulling away roughly, "and you can't really blame me when the hottest guy in the universe offered me a kiss for nothing. Out of the goodness of his precious, kind heart." Eddie’s eyes drop lower, and soon he’s gone from where Steve can see. The next thing he feels is his soft wet lips mouthing over Steve's throat. The quick switch to gentleness has him finally releasing his hair and cupping the back of his neck. "You forgive me, right, sweetheart?" He speaks it into his skin, and he’s right. He does, but he can’t currently articulate the words to do so. Steve is pleasantly surprised that Eddie duped him. That means that Eddie wanted him, too, right? Maybe not in the same way, but in some way. A smile breaks on Steve's face as he lets the wave of pleasure crash over him as frequently and as heavily as they like. 

Make the grade.

He adds ‘Phenomenal Actor’ to his Eddie assessment list.

Steve laughs, making Eddie stop, but Steve doesn't have time to reassure him. The danger is gone, but it is no less exhilarating. He finally uses his strength to push off the wall and trade places. Eddie looks confused, maybe even a little scared, until he scans over Steve’s face centimeters from his own, smiling broadly, laughing in between pants for breath. As Steve pushes off him and removes his blazer and sweatshirt, Eddie no longer seems so worried.

"What did I do to deserve all this?" His eyes rake over every newly exposed inch of Steve, which feels like the most glorious thing in the world. Eddie wants him. It is looping over in his brain like a scratched record.

They're gonna drive me crazy yet.

"Well, let's see, you told the truth." Steve pushes his hardness into Eddie's thigh, and the relief from that tiny bit of contact is almost enough to make Steve collapse onto Eddie, but now he knows they had both been misleading one another a little, and he wants to play up to it.

"I did, I really did. I was so good for that, wasn't I?" Eddie agrees enthusiastically, his eyebrows pushing together as he looks from Steve's face to the friction between them as Eddie slides against him again, and Steve almost short circuits.

Prior to right now, Steve's general part in this kind of dynamic was mostly being grateful. Grateful for a girl, to let him touch her in any way. Even with Tommy, it was almost like a mutual science experiment, but Steve has found two new things he was into in the few short minutes of whatever this was developing between him and Eddie, so he pokes at one. 

"But you also made me aware that someone as good at acting as you cannot be trusted." Steve rolls his hips away from Eddie, leaving him shaking his head quickly in a sort of panic, and watching Eddie crave him like this was sending undulating shockwaves throughout himself. Sure, he's been the subject of coy glances, big eyes full of affection, maybe something close to love, but to be desired so desperately is not something he is accustomed to. It prickles at his nerve endings until his whole body feels so sensitive, like the merest hint of a breeze against it could send him crashing back into Eddie for more.

"It wasn't all acting, I swear. I was nervous about kissing you, but for different reasons than I said," Eddie babbles. His fingers dig into Steve's forearms as he grasps for them. Make that three. Usually, when he was gripped this way, it was by the soft pads at the ends of dainty fingers, maybe even the light scratches of perfectly manicured fingernails. Eddie's fingers aren’t like that. The tips are covered mostly in calluses from playing the guitar, and the roughness of his palms is probably from working with his hands. Steve suspects it's perhaps his van. Immediately jealous that it might be from all the rough surfaces Eddie has pushed other guys up against. He shuts his eyes momentarily as the textures graze across his arms, and his brain takes him to a sweltering hot day, Eddie leaning into the engine of his van, sweat dripping from him, covered in streaks of engine oil or grease, and it is doing Steve no favors in his attempt to calm down. He listens to the music around them for a reprieve, but it doesn't come. The singer only urges him on. He wonders if Eddie selected this album intentionally. If it was part of his plan all along, to bewitch Steve with a wicked potion of himself and the suggestive lyrics in the air.

That smokin' powder keg you're riding on is hell-bound

Steve rushes him, throwing a forearm over his head and leaning his whole weight against it on the wall so he looms over Eddie, breathing hard but keeping a distance between their bodies, hoping to create a chasm between them that they’d fill with the desire behind their eyes. He carefully leans in and speaks his words into Eddie's slightly parted mouth. "Would you have forgiven me if our roles had been reversed? If I had tricked you tonight?" His eyes rise sleepily from Eddie's lips to his hooded eyes, and a shuddering breath escapes the man under him, and Steve's stomach flips.

"Yeah. Yes. A million times, yes. I'd forgive you." Eddie looks like he's in pain as his words drip with yearning. Steve smiles down at him, and he can see the wave of realization move gradually across Eddie's face, "You tricked me?" He says slowly in an unbelieving whisper. His big eyes look up at Steve so innocently for a moment that it makes him positively growl into Eddie's neck because this is fucking sensational. He knows at any point he could throw up his hands, and Eddie would take the reins, or he could continue to overpower him, dominate him like this. He honestly can’t read what Eddie prefers, but he also had no idea what he liked better, either. It all feels good, maybe a little too good.

At the altar of rock 'n' roll you'll kneel.

"It wasn't a trick, exactly. It was more a bending of the truth and then a little pushing my luck," Steve says quietly as he mouths down his neck, his tongue tasting the sharpness of cheap cologne that Steve wouldn't have replaced by anything more expensive. It is perfection. He latches on when he reaches the base of his throat, hoping to leave Eddie with a memory of this evening, a warning to anyone else that sees it, at least for a few days, making Eddie hiss a breath between his teeth. Increasing the pressure as the guitar desperately wails in the sweet syrupy air around them. At first, he thinks he might have been too rough and hurt him until Eddie's hands guide his head back for more. "You like that?" Steve asks for the first time.

"I'd like it better if the rest of you wasn't so far away," Eddie half-complains.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure you deserve it after being so deceptive." Steve laughs, taking his throat between his teeth again and sucking down. He dares to glance up at Eddie's expression and regrets it immediately because he looks like absolute sin, his head thrown back against the wall, sweat sticking his hair to his face, his kiss-swollen mouth hanging open like it's desperately waiting for something obscene to fill it. Though he can't see them in the dim light, he bets those coral pink triangles of blush are adorning his face right now.

Hellion! The devil's Hellion child

"You're not really selling the whole telling you the truth thing, you know?" Eddie catches him staring up at him and grins until he's cut off by Steve bursting another bunch of his blood vessels to decorate his pretty neck. Then he's catching his breath, gasping, and sighing into the air above them as his eyes slide closed. 

"Yeah, but imagine how much more you could have right now if you'd been good," Steve says as he releases and towers over him again, and Eddie lets him, despite them being roughly the same height. A mischievous grin spreads across Eddie’s face as his hips rut forward and grind against him again, almost taunting him. It feels so sinfully good. Steve almost whimpers but presses his lips together just in time. He looks at Eddie, who is already watching him, with a slightly arched eyebrow. As their eyes lock, he does it once more. His brow knits, and his mouth drops open a little. Steve recognises it as almost too much. A moan rolls out of him in the silence between songs, and Steve can't resist that open invitation to capture it. But the next song seeps into his ears, slower, gentler, and Steve lets the music puppet him. He reaches out to cup Eddie's jaw, thumbing at his cheek where he can feel those little patches of heat hiding in the darkness. The music slows his touch and breathing. He lets his eyes search Eddie's for the keys to unlock what he's holding back. Eddie releases a sigh.

Click.

Look, look in the candlelight.

Completely lost in the moment, he finally lets his mind take him and Eddie somewhere else entirely. Suspended in a dark nothingness, only one another's highlights revealed by the faintest light until flames burst from the floor to lick at their bodies. He claims Eddie's mouth with his own and tastes him again, consuming his sounds of pleasure like it was the ambrosia of the gods. He mentally adds to his Eddie assessment.

Exceedingly good at reading me.

As Steve draws back again, just to escape how good Eddie feels, before this ends too soon for his liking, Eddie says, "Come on, Steve. If I'd been really good and told no lies, neither of us would have much of anything right now." His hands move over Steve's body as smoothly as his voice fills his ears until they find their way around his waist, splay out against his back and pull him in closer again. "So maybe, don't think about it too much. Maybe call it even and don't think about anything at all." Eddie's hands move lower, grazing the small of his back, gliding into and over the dimples there, until his fingertips are playing with the back of his waistband, and he slightly dips them inside of it. He raises his eyes to Steve's and holds his gaze through his eyelashes, and Steve realizes he's silently asking for permission. 

And cry out the name of which I yearn.

Eddie doesn't know, but this is the furthest he's ever gone with a guy. He and Tommy had a few make-out sessions. There had been some moments where other parts of their bodies had brushed against one another, but primarily accidental, not purposeful like this. Not urgent wanting like this. It was the hands above the belt rule that kept it safe, that kept it in a forgivable friendly experiment zone. Even if they'd ended up visibly aroused by anything, they'd laugh it off, slap one another on the back, and find a bathroom each, as far apart as possible. This is not like that. He desperately wants to cross that line, specifically with Eddie, but the icy fear is steadily creeping its way past Eddie's flaming hot hands and up his spine. If he stepped over that line, there were no excuses then. It's only when Eddie speaks again he realizes he's frozen. "Steve? Hey, you ok?" Eddie's fingertips immediately retreat to the outside of the waistband of Steve's slacks.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, I'm good," Steve says confidently, even laughing for good measure, but inside, he is terrified. He surges forward to kiss Eddie again, who accepts, but Steve notices it's much more like their first one. Soft, slow, gentle. He feels the firm pressure of Eddie's arms surrounding him, and it's a sorely needed comfort to slow down the insanity that is going on within him right now. Eddie's eyes scan his face. "Is that as far as you got?" He asks, and there is that kindness in his voice again. He's changed back to the guy that cared enough to be there tonight for Steve, with absolutely no idea there was anything in it for him at all. Steve swallows nervously and nods, looking down to the floor, a little embarrassed that his fear had suddenly surpassed his enthusiasm. He doesn't understand why Eddie isn't upset right now, why he isn't pushing him away, calling him a cocktease, or something worse. Sure Steve had never in his life treated anyone like that, no matter where they paused or stopped proceedings, but from what the girls revealed to him as he'd hold them in his arms, reassuring them it didn't matter, it wasn't a big deal, most guys got pissed about it. He was an exception.

"Steve. It's ok." His arms tighten around him, and one hand starts rubbing a soothing circle on his back as he stands to his full height again. 'Look at me. Please"

Steve quickly glances at him and looks away just as rapidly. "Can you try to look at me for a bit longer, please? I know it's difficult on account of how hideous you find me." The smile in his tone is evident, and Steve dares to look again. "There you are," Eddie says with a huge smile, and Steve offers him a weak one back. "Remember earlier, we were talking about Eddie's rules?" He brings a hand to touch the side of Steve's face, carefully moving a few strands of hair away from his eyes. Steve can't bring himself to say anything. He looks down again and feels stupid. Eddie catches his chin on the crook of his index finger and tilts his head back up. "Well, number one on the list of Eddie's Rules is all parties have to be into what's happening at all times. Understand? Because if you're not into it, I'm not into it, ok? That's how it works for me. I'm not being a martyr here," he smiles and looks down where they are still pressed together. "When I know someone's having a good time with me because of me, that's my thing. That's what gets me off." Eddie pretends to be deep in thought as he looks back up. "Well, that and a hundred other things probably, but that's definitely my favorite and most important." He lets out a soft laugh that makes the tension boiling in Steve rest to a simmer.

Steve casts his eyes down to the collar of Eddie's t-shirt, rolls it between his fingers and sighs, "Sorry. I know it must seem like a weird line to have, considering everything else we’ve been doing. You must be disappointed," Steve says regretfully, and Eddie laughs so loudly, making Steve’s eyes snap to him in alarm.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea where I've been for the past I don't fucking know minutes? I'm day-slash-night walking in fantasy, Steve. You have no idea how many times I thought about this. How many different ways. I never. Hand on heart. Never thought it would happen. And believe me when I say I thought I had a fantastic imagination, being a storyteller, a musician, and a dreamer, but nothing I came up with was anywhere close to how amazing this is. Seriously." His hand cups Steve's jaw, and his thumb runs across his cheekbone. "So no, sweetheart, I'm not disappointed. I am a man, light years away from the town of disappointment, ok?"

Steve smiles but rolls his eyes with his patented half-smile. Eddie looks and sounds genuine, but he can't help but feel maybe he'd wanted or expected more.

"I know what you're thinking, Steve. I think I rammed my tongue so far down your throat I tasted your innermost thoughts, so I'll be one hundred percent honest with you. I would be lying if I said I didn't want more. But I always want more. It's who I am. I'm greedy for attention, affection and, right now, you. I am. I'll hold my hands up to that. But I am not disappointed. So you've got nothing to apologize for except being so damn delectable. And maybe don't even be sorry for that because-" Steve cuts him off with a kiss that sets off a box of exhibition-sized fireworks inside of Steve, an orchestral crescendo that runs in ripples over his skin. Fuck, he likes this guy so much more than he thought he did or could.

"You know, I can talk more if that's how you'll keep me quiet the rest of the night?" Eddie smiles as he blinks back into the present. 

"You know I'm in one too?" Steve says quietly, brushing the sweat-dampened hair from Eddie's face.

"Huh? In one? One what?" Eddie looks completely bamboozled.

Steve chuckles, making Eddie's face light up. "I mean, I'm in a fantasy too."

"Fuck off!" Eddie exclaims so loudly in shock it makes Steve lean back. "You are not!" Steve nods, and Eddie's mouth is wide open in excited surprise as he gestures to himself. "Me? Really?" 

"Yeah," Steve says softly, draping his arms around Eddie's neck.

"You have no idea the inner turmoil I'm in right now. Like, I know, I can't tell anyone about this, and I won't, but if I could, shit, the fucking urge to rub this in all their stupid faces is strong. Steve Harrington was fantasizing about lil' ol' me." He flutters his eyelashes. "Feed my ego, Steve. Tell me everything, please."

"Ah, no. That's private," Steve says, frowning a little.

"Ok, ok. At least tell me for how long?" Eddie asks, his arms around Steve, shaking him left to right with excitement, and Steve sighs.

"Since yesterday." And almost immediately, Eddie pouts his downturned lips as his shoulders sink.

"Damn, you don't mess around, do ya?" Eddie replies with a lot less excitement.

"Ok, so you definitely seem disappointed now," Steve remarks.

"Yeah, that's because I am." Eddie pouts again, and Steve is amusedly taken aback by his honesty. At least this reaction confirmed he was telling the truth moments ago.

"Why? Like, why be disappointed about this and not me ruining everything," Steve asks curiously.

"Ok, stop. You ruined nothing. This is different. I just learned you'd been thinking about me, and I guess I imagined it would have been for longer than a day, Steve. What? No pining? No finding out when I'm on shift so you can watch my fine ass walk by? No, Eddie daydreams out of the window. Just one day? How? How is that possible? What did I do yesterday that I didn't do any other of the days we've known one another? I look the same. I act the same. Is it? Is it because you think I'm turning over a new leaf with a legitimate job? Because you should know I'm not." Eddie lets the words leave him like rapid fire as he puzzles through the situation, "Is it name tags? ‘Cus I can get my hands on as many name tags as you want. Oh, wait, is it because I asked for your help? Like a good Samaritan kink or something because, again, my teachers will tell ya I need all the help I can get."

"It's because yesterday I knew, well, I hoped you were like me," Steve answers.

"Oh, the liking guys thing?" Eddie guesses, and Steve shakes his head in a no, and Eddie wrinkles up his nose adorably.

"Music. You talk out loud about music, the way I feel inside about music. In the record store, the way you described the Hendrix album felt different from when you were assessing the others, and earlier tonight, the way you talked about this one," Steve gestures to the air to indicate the music still playing, "and then you knew what I was talking about when I talked about those sensations. And I thought maybe you'd get me. And then I remembered you were in a band, and I thought how amazing that must feel, to play these things and feel like I feel when I only listen to them. Then I couldn't stop thinking about how you might look, getting totally lost in it." Steve takes a breath, realizing how amped up he is talking about this, staring intensely into Eddie's eyes. He's suddenly aware he's talking louder, excitedly, his hands around the back of Eddie's neck, twisting his fingers into Eddie's hair. "Sorry." He says with an awkward laugh and dials it down a few notches back to normal Steve levels.

Eddie says nothing, only gazes back at him, a soft, thoughtful look on his face, blinking a few times before he says, "Don't stop on my account." And right there in a dimly lit room, W.A.S.P still playing loudly in the background, half-dressed, his hair wildly disheveled, Steve Harrington falls for Eddie Munson. 

Shit. This is bad. Fooling around, secret crushes and fantasies were one thing, but this? This is something else entirely. Dangerous even. But Steve knows. He emphatically knows the difference between something purely physical, something lustfully wanton, and this. This spins his head like a record, his stomach turns cartwheels, and his heart isn't pounding quickly like the hooves of galloping wild horses anymore. It's thudding. A resounding, steady thud. A bluesy John Lee Hooker boom, boom, boom, boom.

"Really?" Steve asks carefully.

"Do you know the level of nerd you have in your arms right now? I mean, I'm a pretty, foxy one at least, but yeah, really, Music was the first thing I remember being completely obsessed with." Eddie smiles. "I had no idea until we were by your pool that music wasn't anything but background noise to you or something to dance with girls to. All I knew about you was you liked sports, were rich, a little bit of a bitch, and so goddamn pretty. I would happily talk about and listen to you talk about music for hours." 

Steve wants to ask, but he just stares. He doesn't want to scare Eddie away, but he wants to know if this is just tonight, some fun between friends, or if…if there could be a tomorrow, or next week, or month, or year, or fucking forever.

"Wanna share with the class?" Eddie says, with a sweet encouraging smile.

"Well, two things, one for you and one for me," Steve says. "Which first?"

"Oh, definitely you first, sweetheart," Eddie drawls, and Steve desperately tries to focus on his words and not any hidden meanings that his body is trying to convince him of right now.

"So, I was wondering, and it's absolutely fine if not, but do you maybe wanna hang out again tomorrow or another night this week?" Steve asks, using his confident mask.

"Like we have tonight?" Eddie asks slowly.

"Yeah, or just-" Steve tries to answer.

"Stop right there." Eddie presses a finger to Steve's still-speaking lips. " Yes! Absolutely yes, Steve. Yes. It's a yes. Big fat, yes. Thank you very much," Eddie answers firmly without hesitation, before a colossal grin breaks across his face, and then he suddenly looks puzzled. "Wait, that was for you? What in the world do you have for me?" But Steve has stalled now. He's still processing how eagerly Eddie agreed, and he's very aware of his own breathing and the pulse in his ears until he's snapped out of it by a ringed hand waving in his face.

"Earth to Steve. Helloooo?" Eddie tries, and Steve tries to remember what he was talking about before he started plotting out their future together.

"So, for you, yes, erm, ok, so kinda embarrassing, but I thought you might like to know that whilst I only fantasized about you for one day, it was…." Steve licks his lips and blinks like he can't believe he's going to say this out loud, but he wants Eddie not to be disappointed. He looks into Eddie's expectant eyes in the darkness. "It was, um…intense and um…vigorous." Steve sees his eyes go a new level of wide before he looks impressed with himself.

"Oh-ho-ho, really? Now that does make me feel a little better." Even in the low light, his huge toothy grin is beaming at Steve. "You know I can run out to the van any time you like, grab that guitar and happily give you your own private concert."

"You would?" Steve asks dreamily as he thinks about that image momentarily and slides closer to Eddie until their silhouettes merge into one against the wall.

"Oh yeah, with fucking bells on." Eddie grins, his eyes dropping to Steve's mouth again, then looking him up and down. "Is this you indicating you might wanna rewind and within the lines have a little more fun now?"

"Yeah," Steve breathes against his lips. "That ok?"

"That ok?" Eddie playfully mimics and laughs. "Yes, of course, gorgeous. Absolutely ok! Maybe, as I'm staying over anyway, we can do the same tomorrow too?" Eddie says, walking Steve backwards to the couch, his eyes lazily looking over Steve's face as he guides him to sit and lowers him down, cradling the back of his head gently to lie back. "Ok, like this?" He asks as he shuffles into his lap. Steve nods happily and wraps his arms around Eddie's waist.

"Who knows, maybe tomorrow won't be the same? Maybe a sweet, handsome, nerdy guy can help me get a little further tomorrow? Because with him, I'd really like to eventually. You know, do more," Steve says positively; though he can feel the heat rise up his face, he is smiling up at Eddie as he leans in close and presses a kiss to his lips before sitting back and taking off his t-shirt. Eddie pauses like he's allowing him the time to look over him. Steve makes a mental note of all the places he's going to explore later, all the ink buried in Eddie's skin he's going to get intimately acquainted with every minuscule detail of, maybe even leave his signature next to them, so Steve can be buried under Eddie's skin there right along with them.

"From what I know of that guy, he will be more than eager to assist, but he's also not in any kind of rush. He'll be beside himself that he got so fucking lucky to get his lips on the second hottest music nerd in town." And before Steve can laugh and reach up to playfully push him off, Eddie leans down against his hand to kiss him longingly, his untamed hair draping around them both like the softest black-out curtains against the outside world, their sounds intertwine harmoniously once more as they breathe one another in and out. 

Symbiotic. Just like Eddie said.

Whilst their song sends Steve's imagination into the serenity of outer space, his fingertips of the hand wedged between them moves over Eddie's skin, across to the center of his chest, until they find what Steve's been after for so long. 

A beat that wholeheartedly moves him.

[greatyme]

Sometimes timing works out well and u get the opportunity to see an actor you love perform in an incredible play (twice!) 🥹

Now I already knew I’d be going to Korea sometime in the latter part of the year, so the announcement that Taevin would be doing Angels in America was just perfect. I decided to go to the show on the 25th and closing night on the 27th because who wouldn’t want to see Taevin twice AND it meant I could see both Prior actors! Most of the cast both nights were pretty similar, but Harper, Joe, and Roy’s actors were also different

Taevin is truly incredible. I had mixed… negative feelings about Louis while reading the play but god Taevin can ACT!! Both Seungho and Hojun were also fantastic as Prior (I think I liked Hojun’s performance a bit more hehe) and despite not knowing much Korean I enjoyed every second (I do wonder if I was the only international person who got to see the play from as far out as I was lol)

Some mixed moments I loved/thoughts from the two shows:

after kissing Harper in one scene, Joe (Yang Jiwon) wiped his mouth. He didn’t do it at the second show and I wonder if it was intentional or improv by Jiwon in the first show (but it made perfect sense)

in the second show Prior (Seungho) pulled towels from the other side of the stage (aka another set lmao) to give to Harper to wipe her tears during the joint dream sequence. Hojun didn’t do that in the first show so I wasn’t expecting that and I don’t think anyone else was cuz everyone in the audience laughed djskjdk

as I said before idk much Korean BUT I did read the play as well as watched a filmed performance before which was essential before seeing it in a different language lol. For the second night’s performance I felt like I was catching more than the first time I saw it which was cool!

speaking of things I caught more… for some reason I heard “dyke” pronounced more clearly from Seungho and it was very entertaining to hear Roy’s actor constantly say “Jesus fucking Christ” in English so I guess they stuck w the English equivalents sometimes loooll

THE GHOSTS OF PRIOR WALTER WERE SOOO FUNNY. ESPECIALLY IN THE FIRST SHOW. they were kind of interacting w the audience??? And running around and being so sillay idk I loved it I was laughing a lot

Louis’ stupid rant to Belize was so entertaining. He just won’t stfu and Belize has had ENOUGH. I’m not sure about every version of angels, but for this they had Louis walk to a separate part of the stage and bring back chairs and then drinks which made the length of that scene get even longer and funnier. It was a lot of dialogue and both Taevin & Tae Hangho delivered so well. The only thing I’m curious about is if they altered any dialogue around Belize’s character being Black, considering Hangho is not

THAT scene. THE BREAKUP. IF YOU LIKE THE PLAY YOU KNOW THE ONE. oh my GOD it was incredible. I love the motion and the way all the characters are in conversation with each other it’s just so fucking awesome

THE WAY THE ANGEL BURSTS IN AT THE END!!! The lighting is so cool especially with the set design. Lots of flashing lights at different angles and colors creating different effects against the industrial background. What a way to end the play I wish it was 8 hours long and they DID do Perestroika bc I need to see the rest!!!

Finally, I’ll end with a little beyond-bucket-list experience I had… which was that Taevin signed my ticket 🥹🥹🥹 I won’t include a photo bc there’s too much personal info, but he very kindly asked how to spell my name in English seeing that I wasn’t Korean lol. He didn’t sign anything on closing night either so I was truly very lucky on the 25th🥹 honestly, I was just expecting to see the play but greeting the cast (more of them came out on closing night!) and even getting an autograph made it even more special hehe

The whole cast was incredible, I’ll remember these two performances for the rest of my life <3

[goddessalthena]

UsaMamo Week 2024 - Day 3/6 - Inspired by a Song/Coffee

Late again, and it's tough to say how late because this is technically two prompts in one. I was originally planning to write this as a song fic, but wasn't really feeling it leading up to the event week. Then last night I read @caelenath's awesome song fic and felt inspired to take another look at my outline.

This is not the whimsical lark that my other UsaMamo week pieces have been (which is why I was torn about writing it) but it's an idea that's been nagging at me for a while now. This is only the first part of three, but I thought it would be nice to post it for the event.

Title: Happier Summary: Mamoru wants a cup of coffee. Rating: T (for language) Words: 1722

“Thirty eight!”

Chiba Mamoru is not a melodramatic person. He is not given to histrionics. Flagrant displays of emotion are simply not his thing. Indeed, he is a calm, composed, and exceedingly rational human being. Life is stressful—his arguably more so than most—and he prides himself on his ability to ‘rise above’. But if this beanie-wearing, mouth-breathing barista doesn’t call his number in the next sixty seconds he might just lose it.

“Thirty nine!”

Mamoru stares down at his receipt and wills the numbers to change. Unsurprisingly, they remain the same. He can transform into a superhero in the blink of an eye, but he can’t change a number on a piece of paper. It may be the caffeine withdrawal talking but this seems…unfair. Unjust. Unacceptable. He is a reincarnated prince, the rightful heir to the planet beneath his very feet, and yet he cannot get a simple cup of coffee.

“Thirty seven!”

Are they counting fucking backwards now? He takes a breath and stuffs the receipt in his pocket so he can run a hand through his hair. He needs to calm down. He’s just tired. He’s had another rough night of precious little sleep and this is just a bad morning. That’s all. One bad morning. At the end of a bad week. At the end of a bad month. He just—

“Forty!”

He just really needs some coffee. It’ll be ready soon. So long as they serve him in the next—he checks his watch—four minutes he can still make it to the hospital before his shift starts. He thinks. He’s only just started at UoT and he’s still not used to the bus transfers. Getting to Keio was much simpler. He didn’t have to get up so early, and the coffee shop across the street was much faster. Not to mention better. He misses that coffee. He misses Keio. He misses sleeping. He misses…a lot of things.

“Forty one!”

Lucky number forty one strolls up to the counter to claim their prize. They walk away with a tall plastic cup full of frothy green liquid that looks like it was poured directly out of an infected nostril, and Mamoru can’t help but shudder when they take a long, noisy sip from the straw. Who comes to a coffee shop and orders…whatever that is? This is apparently a trend now—ordering non-caffeinated beverages at coffee shops—because the last ten people who have walked away from the counter have had similarly ridiculous drinks. Why does everything have to be dessert, or snot, in a cup nowadays? What’s wrong with a regular cup of coffee?

He needs to find another coffee shop.

“Forty two!”

He needs them to call his number.

He pulls out his phone to distract himself and scrolls through a list of notifications: weather, junk mail, update reminders—up to forty five now, he’s got to get around to doing that—and one text. His thumb hovers over the blue bubble for a moment or two before he eventually presses down.

Training session Fri or Sat ppl. LMK work schedules ASAP. No ghosting Chiba. Ur old ass is getting rusty. 👴

As Mamoru rolls his eyes three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen. He holds his breath.

“Forty three!”

He doesn’t look away from those three little dots, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. He just watches them, transfixed, until finally—

I’ve got a shift at the restaurant Friday night, but I can do AM Sat wide open

He releases the breath he’s been holding in a quiet sigh. Just Makoto. Not— His thumb hits the back button of its own accord then scrolls down through the list of chats, until…there, near the bottom. Sandwiched between an old banking verification and a number he doesn’t even recognize. He reads the date to the right of the name and winces. Again, his thumb hovers.

“Forty four!”

He taps. A string of texts populate his screen. He doesn’t need to read them again, he knows them by heart. But he reads them anyway. Like he always does. He can’t help it. He’s weak; in these moments at least. When no one can see. He should stop looking now. Should close the window. Should delete the whole thread while he’s at it. But he won’t. He can’t. He can do a lot of things—has done a lot of things—but he can’t delete those words.

I love you, Mamo-chan.

“Forty five!”

I’ll always love you. Even if you’ve stopped loving me back.

“Forty five!”

I wish I knew why though. I wish you would tell me what I did wrong.

“Forty five! That’s four five, people. Four five!”

I’m sorry, I get it now, I won’t bother you anymore. Be happy, Mamo-chan. I want you to be happy.

“For the last time, forty five! Going once, going twice…”

Mamoru’s head snaps up. Forty five. Fuck. That’s his number.

He stuffs his phone in his pocket and rushes up to the counter and beanie-boy does not look happy. Mamoru begins to mutter an apology then stops as the barista shoves a large mug topped whipped cream, caramel, and chocolate shavings toward him. Mamoru looks from the mug to the mouth-breather and back again as his brain tries to comprehend what is happening. After an eternity of waiting they finally called his number and yet…this is not his drink.

The barista is staring at him with a bored, somewhat vacant expression and Mamoru can clearly see that he is wondering why Mamoru isn’t taking the mug and walking away. Apparently the barista can’t tell from Mamoru’s assumedly apoplectic expression that he has no intention of taking the mug. This mug is not his. It’s not what he ordered. It’s not what he wants. Apparently that’s just his life now. An endless string of miserable disappointments that he’s supposed to suffer through silently. But he’s fed up with being silent.

He wants his damn coffee, and he wants it right fu—

“Oh, hello, uh, hey, sorry, excuse me but…I think that’s mine actually.”

Mamoru blinks as a cheerful man with sandy blond hair steps up beside him. He points to the confectionery concoction on the counter and shoots Mamoru an apologetic smile before turning to the barista. “Yes, chocolate macchiato with caramel, right? I believe that’s mine and not this gentleman’s.”

Beanie boy looks from Mamoru to sandy-hair and blinks.

Sandy-hair glances at Mamoru and shoots him another overly apologetic look. “Right, umm, well, if it’s all right, I’ll just grab this and get out of your way.” Mamoru steps to the side and sandy-hair takes the mug and hurries away. Presumably to overdose on sugar.

Mamoru turns back to the barista.

Barista scratches his temple. The beanie must be itchy. Mamoru hopes it is.

“So…what was your order again?”

“Large. Black. Coffee.”

“Right. That’ll take a couple of min—” Beanie boy must have just learned to read facial expressions because his eyes widen and he takes a step back. “I’ll go get it now.”

Mamoru feels a little bit of the tension ease in his shoulders and he breathes a weary sigh. He’s being an asshole. He’s doing that more and more often now. He keeps telling himself it’s the long work hours and the lack of sleep, but he knows what the real problem is. It’s her. He misses her. But there’s nothing he can do about that so he needs to find a better way to cope than being rude to baristas. And co-workers. And neighbours in his apartment building.

The barista comes back with his to-go cup and Mamoru tries to smile and thanks him for the drink. The guy nods but appears otherwise unaffected and that’s fine. Mamoru’s not looking for a new friend, he’s just trying to be a decent human being. A tinkle of bells sounds as he reaches for his cup. A gust of air follows, and a familiar tingle between his shoulder blades compels him to turn. He follows the innate instinct before his mind can warn him against it.

The unmistakable sight of blond odangos makes his heart soar before the inevitable sensation of crushing gloom comes down hard upon his ribs. Just when he thought his morning couldn’t get any worse. He can’t handle this. Not right now. Not again. He’s not strong enough to face another awkward meeting, another painful interaction, another agonizing opportunity to break her heart. Why are they always bumping into each other? Why, in a city as big as this, can he not get through one single week without running into her? Why?

Mamoru knows why. Because they’re soul mates.

He looks around for an alternate exit, a side door, a window, anything so he can avoid being seen. Before he can consider hiding in the bathroom he realizes she’s not approaching the counter where he stands, she’s rushing over to a table. She’s out of breath, her cheeks are pink, and she’s spouting a string of apologies. He’s seen her look exactly like this countless times before, and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as the memories replay.

His smile disappears as a new memory implants itself in his mind.

Of Usako, rushing up to a table where a man with sandy blond hair is standing in wait. Where a man with sandy blond hair is taking her hands. Where a man with sandy blond hair is pulling her forward. Kissing her cheek. Making her blush.

“Don’t worry,” sandy-hair says, “your timing is perfect. Your drink just came out. I wasn’t sure if you wanted a muffin, a danish, or a doughnut, so I got one of each.”

Usako laughs with delight.

Usako laughs with delight.

Usako laughs with delight.

Mamoru heads for the door like the building is on fire. He doesn’t hear the barista calling after him, telling him that he’s forgotten his coffee. He doesn’t hear the tinkling of bells as he shoves through the door or the loud rush of traffic as he hits the sidewalk. All he can hear is Usako’s laughter play over and over in his head.

When was the last time he heard her laugh? When?

Mamoru doesn't know when. He can’t remember.

***

Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you But ain’t nobody love you like I do Promise that I will not take it personal, baby If you’re moving on with someone new

***

Happy Birthday, Mamoru! Sorry bud, this is a breakup fic. What can I say? I both love and hate the breakup arc. The song that inspired this fic is Happier by Ed Sheeran.

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Be sure to follow @usamamoweek for all of this year's content!

Many thanks to our awesome hosts @random-mailbox and @lilliebellfanfics for making this possible. 😘😘

[ahkylous]

Drifting Stars Masterlist

I have never made a post like this, I have no clue what I'm doing, let's go!

SO, drifting stars is one of the best Gravity Falls au's in my unprofessional opinion. But unfortunately, fanfictions are hard to come by, not to mention finished ones. But lucky for you I have way too much time on my hands and have managed to hunt down all drifting stars fanfics on Ao3 that I can find and make one masterpost of all the ones I think are worth your time.

This is gonna be in a general order of least favourite to favourite.

I’m Afraid of the Dark (But I’m Obsessed with Ideas) by TiredWriter810. - oneshot, 910 words, 1/?

So far there's only one of these oneshots and due to what I'm calling The Drifting Stars Curse, I have doubts that there will be any more. I thought it was cute, it's quick so there's not much plot but it has potential.

Ten Years by FullmetalReborn - standalone, 9 753 words, 2/?

This takes place after Mabel and Ford get back, which is one of my favourite concepts. It focuses on Dipper and Mabels relationship and is very realistic in that sense. Despite what the chapters say, this one is finished, or at least ends on a note that can be considered finished.

A Broken Star by Aceofstars16 - oneshot, 1 401 words, 1/1

This one was also set after Mabel and Ford get back and focuses on their relationship, it was just really sweet. It was a little cliché and almost too much for me in terms of comfort (that’s on me guys, in reality it’s not that much I just have issues) but still deserves to be on this list.

Stars Aren't the Only Things That Glitter by NovelistServant - oneshots, 10 465 words, 4/4

These are written really well, the first one is by far the best but the others are still worth a read. This one is finished since they are oneshots but unfortunately leave you wanting more. But again, the first one is amazing.

An Encounter While Breaking Out of Prison by  amadscientistapproaches - 2nd part of a series, 10 074 words, 2/4

This fanfic is not entirely a drifting stars one and is a crossover with Dimension Jumper AU where an oc that I have mixed feelings about is introduced. This part specifically does not mention her but if that au is your thing then read the first part before this one. I just loved the writing style and the whole prison chaos.

OSAS - Main Story, Prologues, Epilogues, and More by LesbianLucretia - series (3 parts), 24 890 words, 1/1, 1/1, 4/?

This one is different to the stereotypical drifting stars idea and I was so there for it, it's nice to see people being creative since it is the multiverse and anything can hadplen. Essentially Mabel doesn't find Ford and has to survive by herself for some amount of years before finding him. The last story got me hooked and I wanted very badly to see how Ford and Mabel's relationship developed but of course, the curse.

What Matters More by RamblesandDragons - oneshot, 3 067 words, 1/1

I loved this oneshot, it was well written and just generally had a good storyline. It's stereotypical in the sense that something bad happens to Mabel but I dont care I still liked it. I feel like the ending could have been done better but don't let that put you off of reading it.

A Shooting Star May Fall by Yatzstar - standalone, 29 479 words, 8/?

This was actually really good, and somewhat adorable. The plotline had so much potential with Bill and everything, there was a level of the story there that I haven't seen before yet alone considered when it comes to drifting stars. It does end on a cliffhanger but there are still some really good Mabel and Ford bonding scenes throughout so do check it out.

Mabel's Guide to The Multiverse by PresidentStalkeyes - oneshot, 6 545 words, 1/1

I loved this. I loved this so much. It was so awesome and written in a way that just makes it so much cooler and more interesting. I love the idea of Mabel getting her hands on a camera and Ford doing his best at being a good uncle. It was just so unexpectedly good.

Drifting Stars by the_subpar_ghost - standalone, 33 003 words, 15/?

This. This is the fic that started it all. This is the fic that I read in two nights and then cried over because it's not finished. Not only did it start it all but it's also just so good. Even if it wasn't the og I would still put it high up on this list. I owe everything to the_subpar_ghost.

Senior Season by orphan_account - standalone, 85 549 words, 18/29

I have no words for this. I would die for this fanfiction, everything about it is just *chefs kiss*. The characterisation of Mabel and Ford, the funny little quotes and comments the two make, everything they do when they travel around the multiverse just showing how long they've been out there. It even mentions things I have never heard mentioned ever in a fanfiction. It's so honest and funny and addicting and I would jump in front of a bullet to save this fanfiction. The cliffhanger does suck but I found it somewhat bearable since I can kinda see where it ends up going. But this is it, this is the fic that outshines them all.

I legally cannot have an opinion on these last ones since I haven't finished/started reading them but I'll put them here anyway.

Ad Astra by Queen_Mab - standalone, 103 406 words, 18/?

So far, I think this fic is good. The story is well developed and so are some of the characters which is more I can say for a lot of fanfictions I have read in my lifetime. I am only on chapter 9 so I still have a fair bit left but Mabel is just so adorable in this and there is a lot going on back at Gravity Falls and I'm so into it.

The Drifting Star by Booblybaba - standalone, 35 337 words, 15/?

So I have not started reading this one yet but when I came across it I checked the ending to see if it was on a cliffhanger and if I should bother reading it. Lo and behold, it ended on a cliffhanger, but I still have hopes for this since the writing style looks really good and with that many chapters there's sure to be some good Ford and Mabel content.

So yeah! Feel free to add any fanfics I might have missed. I don't mean to offend anyone, this is just what I personally thought while reading some these and if you disagree then that's fine.

Also there's a part two of this list now, whaaaat?!?!??!

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Aaron Hotchner & CM Content Creator Spotlight

Good evening, loves! I hope you are all having a good start to your week. I just wanted to take a moment to shout out some of the amazing content creators that I see putting out the most breathtaking, content related to Aaron and Criminal Minds in general.

The fact that we get this content, for free, never ceases to amaze me. I’m lucky to interact, read, and view your work every day. It really does help my writing and makes my days a 100 times better. And an extra special shoutout to my moots (y’all are so keen! ❤️) Please check these awesome people out and give them a follow if you are so inclined. I will continue adding accounts to this list as I find them. See the list under the cut [accounts not listed in any order]

Creators who Write for Aaron & the BAU All fics mentioned are linked

@criminalskies - They have lots of Aaron-centered fics that are so comforting.

My favorite work of theirs: “In Your Orbit” Part I and Part II. I still haven’t recovered from these. 

@luveline - She has lots of Aaron content and some Spencer fics as well. She also posts for other fandoms like Stranger Things and The Mauraders. Her use of tone and diction always blow me away. 

My favorite work of hers: “If Things Go Bad”

@little-diable - A truly prolific writer! The consistency in style is incredible. She also writes for Harry Potter and Peaky Blinders (thank you, thank you, thank you!)

My favorite work of hers: “For You, always” [18+]

@softhairedhotch - He shares lots of Aaron head canons and ideas that get my writing juices going. 

My favorite works of his: “cold case” and the “Trans masc Aaron headcannons” ← This is still making me want to give him a hug and go to a pride parade with him and Jack!

@ssahotchnerr - When I read her stuff I just kick my feet and scream into my pillow. Her Aaron stuff sends me. I love the fics with fluff so much. 

My favorite work of hers: “Sleepless” 

@winterscaptain - To say that her series A Joyful Future actually changed my life is an understatement. I go back to it again, and again, and again. I’ll link the master list here (link) but if you want to literally feel like you are really married to Aaron, then give the series a read. 

I like all of Tali’s work, but I’m extra partial to “Though and Though” and “Berry Hill”

@itsrainingreid - I’m still pretty new to this blog, but the fic “Ride” [18+] sold me instantly. I can’t stop thinking about it. I look forward to reading more of your work. 

@mandarinmoons is a very sweet Spencer Reid fic writer! All of their stuff is amazing and comforting! I like their story Office Romance

Creators that share Screencaps and Inspo 

@milla984 A L W A Y S comes through with the Aaron screen caps. Literally my hero!

@hotchs-big-hands [18+ account. Minors DNI!] Her nsfw Aaron inspo content does things to me. 

@hotch-girl The way I keep saving her pictures like I need to have the whole set. [I need the whole set]

@sadgirlzluvdilfs [18+ account. Minors DNI!] A generally lovely person who always posts/reposts good Aaron/Thomas content! It's a joy to hang out on her blog.

@hancydrewfan Always shares the Emily content I need. 

@littlecarmine Has amazing CM photos. Always clear and good quality. And they share photos of the whole team!

@pennyspearl Amazing vingate-esque photos of the whole team. Their pictures are such a vibe!

Creators that make Prompts and also Write 

@imagining-in-the-margins It was her Meet Cute Writing Challenge prompts that got me writing again. I cannot thank you enough for that. Her prompts have really helped me get my writing mojo back.

Criminal Minds Artists

@k1ngari

@lilliesthings Soft pastel aesthetic of Spence, Em, Garcia, and Derk. What more could you ask for? Nothing in my book.

@weirdlybeans Super cute art of Hotch! I love their work!

@hannaloony So cute and cozy digital art. I want all of your pieces as prints!

Creators that share the Dark Academia Aesthetic [my aesthetic] 

@optimistic-nihilist

@peacefulandcozy Maybe more soft academia / mori kie than dark academia, but I still find it very aesthetic!

@flowersforfrancis Always shares great dark academia content

@shakespearesdaughters I use their images with almost every mood board I make. I would be helpless without them.

@cafekitsune has the cutes text breaks and dividers on here. Her work has been a gamechanger for my page. Please check her out if you are into aesthetics on your blog! Remi I love you so much.

Text Break Banners by @cafekitsune

[sincerealev]

OHMG HI I love your deh fanart please feed me with some headcanons for my five bbs 😔🙏🙏

Hello!! Thank you so much, that means a lot <3 /gen

I've made some posts already with hcs of the sillies, you can find them here:

Evan hcs

Connor and Zoe hcs

Jared and Alana hcs

So, HERE'S MORE HEADCANONS THEN 😼😼

(ty to my awesome gf for helping me think of hcs cuz my mind was almost blank at the moment of writing this 😭🫶)

Connor helps Evan study for math tests, and Ev helps him with literature assignments in return <3

Evan constantly "steals" his boyf's clothes, and jokingly claims that there’s “an imaginary contract between them” that states that, the moment they started dating, Connor's clothes also became his

They enjoy watching horror movies together <33 (Connor got him more into horror movies). They'll have sleepovers a lot, and have horror movie marathons past midnight

"Hey, Ev... What if we watched [horror movie] and kissed during the scary parts? 🖤"

Their favorite horror movie to watch together is Scream (1996)

Alana and Evan are besties 🫶 Like, very close friends

Sometimes they'll have sleepovers, and Alana will tell him gossip about the school (which she's got a ton of). Even of people Evan doesn't know of, but he eats it all up 😭. But they'll also gossip about their crushes/partners,,

(before Evan and Connor started dating) Alana would sometimes give Connor advice to ask Evan out and stuff

And Zoe would give Evan advice on how to talk to and ask out Connor

Alana and Evan are library buddies, and during college they both got jobs at a Barnes And Noble

Zoe and Jared are one chaotic duo. They'll text and facetime a lot, sending each other memes, and also will plot different pranks to pull on their friends lol

All five have pets:

Evan has his golden retriever, Aspen, which I've talked about before 🫶, Connor has a white ragdoll cat, Winter, which I've also talked about... Alana has a bunny named Cocoa, Zoe has a ball python named after a Greek god (I always forget which one), and Jared has a tortoise named Sheldon (of course (also Sheldon turned out to be a girl lol) )

(more under the cut cuz this post is getting long)

Zoe and Jared will put their pets up against each other and have them race

Jared for some reason can do a near perfect Mickey Mouse impression 😭 And he likes using it all the time around his friends. For example...

Con: (after Jared said something that annoyed Connor) Kys.

Jar: [Mickey Mouse impression] Ohoh!! That wasn't very nice, pal! ☝️🐭

Zoe is also guilty of stealing clothes... She's stolen some of Jared's graphic tees, and is yet to return them 💔

The whole gang loves going to Alana's house, because the energy there is just perfect: All cozy, and feels like home. Alana's grandma is very fond of them all too <33 And will give them all delicious food and deserts when they go visit

Murphy twins headcanons!!! Zoe will sometimes read through Connor's diary, which he doesn't know...

The twins will pull pranks on each other a lot (their parents are already used to this)

One time, Connor put fake spiders in Zoe's bed while she was sleeping. That next morning wasn't very pleasant

Connor and Zoe will ALSO constantly steal from each other's closets; Lucky for them, they're very close in size

They love going to the mall together and being goofballs

On family road trips, the twins will always argue over who gets to control the music

Though they won't admit it to anyone or each other, everyone around them can tell they get along very well and love each other <3

Oh yeah... I don't remember if I've said this one before, but they also argue a lot over who was born first (they're both convinced it was themselves), but their parents have never told them because that'd just be fueling the fire more lol

Now for Evan and Zoe... They give each other music recommendations

Zoe will recommend music from Feeltwood Mac or TV Girl, and Evan will recommend Radiohead songs

Zoe treats Evan as if he was her own brother (where Zoe is the older sibling, obviously 🙄 (Evan is literally older))

Zoe will never grasp the concept of Evan and Connor being together. How can such a nice and polite guy like Evan be with such a mean old ogre like.. her BROTHER?? 😞

Since Evan is close with Alana, Zoe’s gayass will ask certain questions,, such as, “What’s Alana’s favorite candy?”

Jared and Evan hcs: Jared honestly considers himself to be part of Evan's family. They have a cousin type of relationship, and Jared honestly looks up to him (He’d never admit that)

They play video games at Jared’s house, and one of their favorite games to play is Cuphead (you know who is who. Evan's also VERY bad at that game, but he still enjoys playing)

There will be moments where they both geek out over something they both enjoy, like a new comic book series releasing or something

Evan will always be the first person Jared goes to for advice

From when they were younger, Jared had stolen multiple of Evan’s toys and to this day is YET to return them (they both forgot, obviously)

And finally, some more Treebros hcs to finish off:

Evan is often Connor’s “muse”, when he draws or paints (he's got MULTIPLE drawings of Evan, and when Connor shows them to him he gets very shy <3 But Evan is always VERY impressed)

Sometimes they go on late night drives and will park in empty parking lots,, and then kiss <3

Connor has convinced Evan to try shotgunning with him, and it was definitely an experience 🦋

Evan is obsessed with doing his boyfriend’s hair and styling it, he'll do ponytails or even braids

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: trophic level ²

He's a former idol, one of the people sheltered and saved from the inevitable collapse of humanity- probably thinking that his eye was some huge sacrifice he'd made to survive. Well, welcome to reality; where you can count yourself lucky if you only loose your eye, and nothing else.

Tags/Warnings: Zombie apocalypse, Violence, blood and descriptive gore, enemies to lovers, former idol!Jungkook, jungkook is half blind in this, near death experiences

Additional Chapter Warnings: tsundere af reader, jungkook being jungkook, if you use some glasses you can spot some fluff, dirt ew, blood and wounds ew², mild Angst

<- Previous | Next ->

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You're not feeling too good.

You're not sure if Jungkook has noticed this or not, but right now, you're at least happy he doesn't complain or bug you about it. You don't like staying in one place for too long, so you keep on walking behind him through abandoned cars and buildings around. He's not stupid- he doesn't enter the town itself, keeps himself and you in the background to avoid potential dead people trying to gain some dinner.

It's not long, though, when your dizziness gets the best of you, sending you straight into the bushes below, unable to get up for a good moment. "Wha- fuck!" He curses under his breath, instantly pulling you out the branches and into a sitting position. "What's wrong? What happened?" He wants to know, his brown eye roaming your features for any hint.

"Oh, thought I'd take a quick nap, you know." You tell him, wiping your cheek where there's a little cut now from the sharp branches you'd fallen into. "Give me a second. I'll be up in a few.." you mumble to yourself, while he simply refuses to listen it seems, trying to guess your temperature with the back of his hand.

"You're sweating." He tells mostly himself as his hand dips into your sweater and jacket, making your cheeks burn for a second from the bold action. "You got injured yesterday, right?" He asks, brows furrowed and face serious.

"Just a scrape. But yeah." You say, moving your leg that he instantly inspects by pulling on your pants. "Ow, hey! Thought you idols were such gentlemen." You curse, while he clicks his tongue, tilting his head a bit irritated.

"I'll just ignore that comment." He murmurs, before lifting the pant leg a bit more carefully.

"Well, awesome." You throw your hands up, seeing the angry red and splotchy skin around your cut.

"Its infected. Why didn't you say anything?" He scolds, and for the first time, you actually shrink in on yourself a bit at his harsh tone. Maybe you should put the whole idol-persona you've had in mind for him aside for now.

At least until you make sure he won't have to cut your leg off.

"I didn't want you to stop walking." You say quietly. "We can't stay in one place for long."

"Yeah and you can't walk with just one leg." He sighs. "I'm not a doctor, I've got honestly no idea what to do, other than.. things I've read on Google a few years back."

"Well, then use that world-wide-web knowledge! It's better than nothing?" You encourage, and he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he looks around.

There's not many options, and even less are even slightly safe. He can't stay here with you, not with the potential amount of dead walking around in the more inner parts of the city. He has to move into a different direction for now, find some remote shelter that hopefully has some things left he can use, and then let you rest until you can keep up again.

"Alright." He says, dropping his backpack. "Get on." He tells you.

"And your backpack?" You wonder quietly.

"I'll carry it in my hand. Come on now." He urges. "We don't have time forever."

You quietly crawl onto his back like that, surprised at how easily he seems to lift and carry you, as he begins to walk. "I'm sorry." You mumble.

"For what?" He scoffs.

"Being a burden? This is horribly cliche." You complain. He shrugs as best as he can with you on his back.

"Just don't sacrifice yourself or something. Being lonely sucks." He complains quietly, and you're unsure if he meant that as a joke, or in all seriousness.

Maybe both.

In the small shed you find in the middle of the woods a few minutes away from town, there's no one there- not much supplies either, but enough to at least comfort you both for a day or two. Jungkook carefully places you down next to a cold and dirty stove, before he searches through the cabinets for anything.

"Yes! Fuck, yes, I'm so good, kissed by the gods, I swear!" He calls out but keeps his voice low, fist-bumping the air.

"Did you find alcohol?" You wonder.

"Even better!" He grins, before shaking a plastic bottle. "Penicillin!" He presents as if he's shooting a commercial.

Go figure. Some things never change.

"Alright, I'll clean that and while you're busy being a good girl and not scream at me while I'm doing that-" he looks at you from his halfway-kneeling position, old shirt in hand as well as a water bottle. You're a bit flustered at his choice of words. "-you can chug some of these bad boys so they'll kick in soon." He instructs, while you just nod dumbly.

He's surprisingly effective yet gentpe- though he has to keep a good grip on your ankle because you can't help but pull away every now and then. He's constantly making sure to whisper out praise whenever he can, concentrated on doing a good job wrapping gauze he'd found still packaged around your cut, not too tight and not too loose before he leaves you be.

"Hey I found some-" he calls out after securing some snacks they'd stored- only to find you asleep, halfway leaning against the stove and his backpack.

Quietly, Jungkook just sits down next to you, watching you, listening to any noises that might come from outside. The shed is safe, he'd secured all entrances and windows, but still, he keeps watch over you for as long as he can stay awake.

Because being lonely sucks, yeah-

But he's also really starting to like you.

[skulla-rxcks]

🧸CHAPTER TWO} I like you more than a roommate

Previous chapter

Paring: roommate!Hyuniin X fem reader

Rating: mature (eventually explicit)

Genre: friends to lovers, fluff, eventual smut

Chapter Warnings/things: none

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

Your roommate Hyunjin is slowly catching feelings for you. You get more clingy to him as he helps you through your needs and issues, he loves you but doesn't know how to show it.

A/n: this one’s kinda boring but it’s relevant. Its also quickly written so

It’s been 3 days since the storm, Hyunjin’s been trying to get my attention for the past few days, I’ve been shoving him off though.. I overreacted more than usual that night. Yes, im afraid of storms and he knows that, I feel like an idiot, crying into his arms and being all cuddley like. I appreciate his comfort but the problem is I like him more than a roommate, more than a friend; I have feelings for him.

But now i don’t even know how to start up a normal conversation with him, I’ve been ignoring him for days! Getting over him would be helpful but i can’t when I practicality live with this guy!

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve been avoiding you since-“ I sigh opening the door to find him sketching away some flowers, the scribbling noises stop as I finish my words, I can’t say anything else it’s like my vocal chords froze and I couldn’t talk anymore, like something was squeezing them tight from the inside of my throat.

“Oh Hey! It’s fine don’t worry about it, we all need our own time sometimes. I totally get it.” He chuckles, my eyes stare at his perfect pink lips watching them part as he slips words out of his mouth, they’re so plump! I catch myself not paying attention.

“Uh- y-yeah, thanks..” I tilt my head down in embarrassment

I end up deciding to sit down next to him I open up my phone, beginning to do my own thing and check if anyones texted me or called me about something.

Which no one has, so I just stare at my screen and try to hide my embarrassment of what the fuck was going through my head. It’s just lips, everyone has lips, why are his so intriguing to me? I hate this so much.

“Whatchu looking at?” He leans toward me, causing me to jump slightly as he rests his chin on my shoulder.

What the hell do I say? I’m literally just straight up STARING at my Lock Screen like an idiot would.

“Uh, I just changed my Lock Screen and I’m deciding if I like it or not.”

Perfect, hopefully that’ll cover up whatever the fuck I’m doing. I’m pretty sure he’s only seen my Home Screen which is outstandingly lucky for a situation for this.

“Well I think it’s awesome, Hello Kitty right?”

He grabs my phone and points at it, smiling since he knows he’s right and loves being correct with whatever the heck he’s doing.

“Yeah! Hang on, got an email from our art professor, bloody hell.” I sigh, opening my phone holding it close to my chest scanning the email with my eyes.

“What is it?” Hyunjin questions, being the curious guy he is. “Art assignment, it’s due tomorrow. Must have missed it when I was checking my emails, it was sent last week..” I lie my head back against the wall groaning in disappointment.

“Well we should start now.. it’s tomorrow after all.”

He snatches my phone reading the assignment out loud. “team up with someone in your class on a collaborative acrylic painting, the canvas can be any size it’s your choice.” Hyunjin gives my phone back, his face scrunching up as he thinks of ideas.

“Oh I know! We could do a painting of a fairy resting in a flower, I could do most of the fairy and you do most of the flower!” I smile, hopping onto his lap in excitement, pushing down on his shoulders and looking into his eyes with a twinkle in my own.

“Oohhhh.. that’s a great idea, we should start now though, we don’t have much time.”

“Yeah. Good idea”

© 2023 skulla_rxcks

[sundalion]

Sooooo I got inspired by another post (by @selective-insomniac) and I’ve now made a list of all my favourite rottmnt fics I’ve read that I also think you should read.

If your fic is not on the list I either haven’t read it or it just sadly wasn’t on my favourites (doesn’t mean I hated it TvT)

My list of the best Rottmnt fics

Mutant Ninja Midlife Crisis by a_platypus -Future Leo somehow ends up post Kraang invasion and meets big mama instead of the bois (uhoh)

Midnight Blue by TugboatExpress -leosagi fluff mostly and very cute

we'll meet again, soon by chiangyorange -all the turtles gets to go back from the apocalypse with Casey

I Ain't Happy, but I'm Feeling Glad by Fish -Leo gets cursed and has a lil fight, based of a comic or animatic i cannot find TvT

i think i would prefer the prison dimension by PurpleCatGhost -Leo ends up in the apocalypse instead of home after the Kraang invasion

Alpha Stage by snailsnaps -hehe tiny Donnie hehe (he just had a tiny lab accident it’s fiiiine)

Unfamiliar Familiar by Torable -Michaelangelo from 2012 gets to meet Rise turtles and deal with his trauma

but the grave's gonna have to fight for me by Pachipikachu -awesome Leosagi fic, Usagi is in the battle nexus but also in the pizza place, and Leo is head over heals hdhdjdjdn

The Aftermath by Starrcrossrose -yea this one is fucking tough, take the hurt part in hurt/comfort very seriously ow, only read for your own pain hdjfjskskfk

Ghost in the Shell by AmevelloBlue - 2003 Donatello ends in the Rise universe, gets stuck, and now lives to help the small Rise turtles grow older (hehe dad)

Last Grain Of Sand In The Hourglass by TjLockticon -Old man Leo gets through the portal instead of Leo and the boy is still stuck in the prison dimension, that ain’t stopping the older man tho

too lucky to count by iooiu -Mikey gets to go back post movie against his will and has become a feisty old man and does not want to deal with his now smaller brother Donnie and everyone else

I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good by Dandy -Leo gets cursed and his soul kinda separates from his body so the rest thinks his dead and Leo is panicking

Trial and Error by ApatheticRobots -yeah Casey said fuck it and dragged the old man with him to the past, none of the Leo’s really agrees with that choice

Just this once, everybody lives by TheDragonTribes -Mikey says fuck it and takes his whole family home with Casey, but ya know, it’s still the same day as the kraang invasion soooo

odd man out by cosmoscrow -this is the most wholesome you’ll get with an old man Leo being back to his past post movie

Mystic Hands by characcoon -Mikey ends up where Casey should’ve gone and now an angy old man Mikey has to deal with the invasion again

Carapace by SkeletalConstellation -Donnie and the gang messed up on a mission post movie and now Don gets to be momentarily Robot while he fixes himself

Fracturing Time by ofdogsandwriting -Mikey gets to go back post movie and decides his time has come… for retirement :) the boys ain’t having that tho

Quiet Your Mind by daedelweiss -Donnie and Leo gets to fuse in the apocalypse kinda like Steven universe but turtles hdjdjdns it’s a very good oneshot with lots of disaster twins

Rotten Reflections by Nicoforlife -something happened to the disaster twins, making them feral as a survival instinct and ending up in the tmnt 2012 universe with the 12 boys having to deal with some scary Rise twins

A Tale of Spirits by unorthodoxx -They gang touches sometimes they shouldn’t and somehow end up separated widely in the universe of AtLA with the whole Gaang, they however think that the turtles are spirits and it’s a whole adventurous journey (quite a long and amazing read)

unmaking by corvidown -it’s post movie and everything is swell, right up until Donnie starts having a little too realistic nightmares from Casey’s timeline. (Includes 2+ Donatello’s)

At My Worst by teainthesnow -the older apocalyptic version of Leo gets trapped in Leo who has yet to stop the Kraang, absolutely beautiful story hhhh (finished?)

The Eldest Brother by dEBB987 -AMAZING FUCKING RAPH FIC HHHHHH our big bro Raph gets accidentally sent through a portal on a mission into the 12 tmnt universe. Here he struggles with his past traumas while trying to heal whatever 12 has going on in their ‘family’ 10/10 cried cant wait for more.

Like Father Like Son by eternalglitch -oooh gosh Leo gets kidnapped on a pizzarun fort he family by Draxum and the scientist seems to have found one of Donnies inventions that will help him make Leo his perfect little soldier. (Cried hard absolutely destroyed me, it does get better)

Minor interference by bambiraptorx -it’s a fun little fic and the opposite of the above, where Leo and the fam takes up the offer of having Draxum train them, it’s only to absolutely to mess with him tho lol

Never better by less_depresso_more_expresso -amazing Raph fic where she’s raised by good father Draxum, her siblings however are unaware and the younger brothers desperately try to get their sister back from what they assume is an abusive father (it’s surprising lighthearted with triggerwarnings when needed and generally fun to read, feels in character too and so far 10/10)

(I’m so sorry I couldn’t get the links to work, gotta go the old fashioned way hhhhh)

[myfandomprompts]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟒)

Synopsis: You are a French girl that had the opportunity to teach in Manchester, and you had been lucky enough to be granted a bed at the Bennett’s place. As Europe is on the brink of war, you start to worry for your family back at home, and you are surprisingly consoled by the one man of the house you would never have thought capable of landing you an ear. It’s not that you like Tom, is it?

Previous Part - Masterlist

Tags: angst, fluff

A/N: Sorry for my long absence, but until July I am swamped. I should be working instead of writing but here I am. There is work in the do, another Aemond fic among others things, but I'll try to finish this one first. And I am not forgetting the other work I promised to some of you. Thank you to @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan & @babyblue711 for awesome beta reading. Enjoy.

French spoken -> italics

It was a terrifying thing to witness. 

Mass and queues of thousands of men waiting on the sand with the hope of being evacuated upon the Channel before the Germans broke the last lines of defence. And Tom had only one job: bring back as many as possible to the destroyer and manage to make it home.

“Come on lads!” he shouted against the wind. “Fritz is due to call again soon, and he won’t be selling ice creams!”

Then a bloke with a thick eastern accent tried to board the barge, a wild look in his eyes as he approached the boat. “You cannot stop me,” he spat as Tom pushed him away, telling him off. 

“Oh, yeah? I can with this, mate,” he replied, drawing his handgun and pointing it at him.

Tom didn’t want to be here. Every minute he spent away from home felt like part of himself was betraying him, his father’s look as he refused him fresh on his mind, as well as the discussion with you. He had a task to accomplish, and even though he understood why this guy wanted to flee, he could not let him. Who did he think he was? 

He tried to explain why he couldn’t board with them, but the wild look in the man’s eyes grew more determined. He was not giving up, Tom reckoned.

“I’m ready for death.” 

But neither was he. “We’re all fucking ready for death mate! We’re all ready for death.” 

Because life was apparently set to make him feel like he was in hell.

“Shoot me!” the man screamed and Tom had widened his eyes a little before finding his cocky expression again, refusing to let compassion take the better of him before the blond-haired man's desperation. Because every second he was spending on French soil infuriated him, wishing that the aching in his chest would disappear and be replaced by the usual soldier dread or determination his mates all seem to possess, like that eastern man obviously had. 

Instead Tom was doing everything he could to get you out of his head, one way or another, and being geographically close to you did not help, at all.

“Right, behave, lads! Any more hassle and I’ll be going home with a boat half-full!” he shouted at the beach, the feeling of his gun heavy in his hands as the blond boy was shoved away.

Then that sound. That shrilling howl, that recognisable whistling that meant death filled the beach and all looked up. Several Stukas, Luftwaffe’s most dreadful aircraft were diving on them, dropping bombs and shooting away.

Everybody around him started to shout and move, panic taking over the entire beach as he saw the bombers dive one by one. Tom felt his whole body fill with dread, the same feeling he had had on the Graf Spree as it got bombed kicking in and the next minute he was running, sprinting among the soldiers and the fire raining down on them. 

He had said he was ready for death, but as it came nearer and nearer his need to escape it only grew stronger. That would not be how he ends, not how he parted with his father. With you.

So Tom ran. And Tom fell.

The Nazi flag that hung below l’Arc de Triomphe was flapping against the warm wind of June like it belonged there, red, black and white flashing against the blue of the sky. Behind it marched hundreds of German officers who were parading on the Champs-Elysées with arrogance under the sour gaze of the Parisians that had enough courage to leave their home to witness their entrance.

But Paris felt empty, most of its inhabitants had fled when the capital had been declared an open city a few days prior, the government relocating to Bordeaux the next day as the threat of a German bombing loomed over it. What was left of the French forces was only a deformed mass, scattered across the North of France as soon as the German had pushed through the Meuse and Sedan, trapping them between them and the sea. Many died as they covered the evacuation of Dunkirk, some even lucky enough to reach English shores when the remaining troops were either taken prisoners or killed. Only a few had managed to come back, either wounded or forced to take the German’s advancement by speed as they tried to reach Paris.

But Paris was now occupied, left defenceless as the exodus carried on. And there you were, in the city since the start of May, learning day after day of news of defeated battles and death, heart falling in your chest as the enemy crept closer. 

It was upon your return from England that you had decided to go to Paris, after you had found your parents and after they told you that your brother had enrolled in the army back in January and hadn’t come back. An argument ensued in which you blamed your parents who had hidden this from you in order to have you stay in Manchester, feeling betrayed and left out by their omission. So you had packed and headed for the capital only a few days before the Germans had crossed the Maginot Line and put the whole country in disarray.

If your brother was to appear somewhere, you hoped it would be there. You would not sit back and wait for him to appear or not appear. You would not wait to learn of his imprisonment or death comfortably with your parents. You would not experience the same feeling you had had when Tom Bennet, whose blue eyes and wry smile haunted you every day, had been away at sea.

As he surely was now.

You sat down in your tiny flat and, feeling like it was for the millionth time, began writing the same words at the top of the paper again: Dear Tom, Then, after two minutes of agony you crunched up the paper into a ball and threw it in the bin atop of the rest.

It had been months, and you doubted that you would ever be able to put your thoughts into words, what you wanted to say to him. You felt that a letter was not enough, and it surely was.

You weren’t even sure it would reach him.

If he was still alive.

"They dismissed you? Just like that?"

"They didn't really have any choice. The Germans do not care about a shabby café, they prefer three stars restaurants."

It was several days after the German parade and you had just entered the American Hospital to find Henriette, catching her on her way to the office in order to enter new deaths to the registry. 

Just in time.

“If you aren’t able to work anymore, you should leave Paris. Maybe go to the zone libre,” she suggested to you as she washed her hands thoroughly in a tiny sink.

“No, if I want to have a better chance at finding my brother, it’s here in Paris. No matter how much I hate being here,” you said, looking around to witness some Nazi officers stroll the corridors. You lowered your voice. “You should be the one leaving. Go in the countryside, not… staying among them.”

Henriette looked at you terrified as she glanced at the Nazis disappearing beyond the halls, then she gave you a frantic shake of her head. Your friend was Jewish, and you were awfully worried for her since the Germans’ arrival, the anti-Semitic ideas they brought with them spreading at an alarming rate.

“My duties are here and I am helping people, the ones who fought for us,” she answered as she went to the desk to grab the log book. “Even when some are ungrateful, might I add. Always feels rewarding when they are getting better.”

You eyed the book in her hands before giving her a short smile. “Men giving you a hard time, then? Hope it’s not the doctor,” you winked, aware of your friend's crush on the American.

She gave you a scolding smile. “Non. Some British guy who was very unhappy to be in Paris. Just, straight rude, called Jacques a coward. He did not like it,” she scoffed.

“Right, I swear they aren’t all like that," you laughed, picturing in your head a man like Tom doing the exact opposite of what you were claiming British people didn’t do. You tried to ignore the pang of guilt and longing you felt thinking about him again, a daily struggle, “What’s an English man doing here anyway? Prisoner?” 

“Wounded at Dunkerque and brought back, shot in the shoulder. That boy was a sacré numéro.”

But you were not listening to your friend saying that the soldier had been a handful, because your anguish was considerably growing at the sight of the papers she had mulled out of the drawer, drawing all of your attention to it.

“Je peux voir ?” you said, voice slightly trembling. Can I see?

Every week it was the same routine. Ever since you had settled in Paris, you visited the hospital where you knew your friend received a daily list of the deceased soldiers that had passed away in the hospitals of the area, and every few days you came and consulted said list, hoping that your brother’s name would not appear. You dreaded the day you would learn that he had indeed made it to Paris, only to die there.

Henriette sighed. “Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asked, assessing your worried eyes staring at her.

As an answer you just extended your hand so she would give you the list, and she reluctantly did. As your eyes travelled the papers, you heard Doctor O’Connor enter the room and greet you. You absent-mindedly greeted back, eyes not leaving the list of  names. 

“Are they gone?” Henriette asked Webster in English.

“Yes, the one that vomited was pretty eager to leave. I doubt they will ask to go downstairs again after that.”

You gathered they were talking about German officers that had visited earlier. They were everywhere, even in the last place you wanted them to be. You try not to let it get to you.

“Good,” your friend answered with a firm nod. “Because I don’t think I could pull another miracle like that next time.”

You were about to put the paper back down on the desk, relieved not to see your brother’s name written on it, when your eyes noticed something and your heart stopped.

No.

“Henriette?” you said in a voice you did not recognise, your eyes refusing to leave the piece of paper. “What did you say that English guy’s name was?”

Both the Doctor and your friend exchanged a look before answering. “Uh… Bennett, I think,” she said.

“Tom Bennett, Royal Navy,” finished Webster matter-of-factly while watching you with curious eyes. “Why, you know him?”

You looked up from the paper, feeling the world spinning. No, there was no way. 

“What did he look like?” you heard yourself ask, your voice barely audible as you felt your throat burn.

“British?” Webster answered with a scoff. “Blue eyes, blond hair, a pain in the ass. Big mouthed.” 

You felt your vision blur for the briefest moment before it cleared again, and you let out a trembling breath you didn’t know you were holding.

This wasn't happening.

You had to sit down, and when you reached the chair next to the desk you felt Henriette rush to your sides in order to ease you down.

“Y/N, qu’est-ce qu’il se passe? Do you know him?” she repeated in French, concern in her eyes as Doctor O’Connor was looking at you dumbfounded, a brow arched high on his forehead.

You struggled to speak, your eyes fixated on the ground. No…You needed more time.

“How…” you began, swallowing hard to control your tears from flowing, hand over your mouth. “…when did he die?” you asked, your voice escaping your throat with difficulty. It took everything you had not to close your eyes and not fall apart on the spot.

“Oh no, no he is not dead, Y/N,” said your friend as she took your hand gently. 

You glanced up at her. “What? But…” you stammered, looking at the paper you had put back on the desk with the names and back at her.

Doctor O’Connor seemed to catch up, closed the door and came to crouch next to you, lowering his voice as he spoke. “He is not, we only declared him dead so he would not be taken prisoner of war. We found a way for him to make it back home.”

You widen your eyes, not realising that they were wet from your own tears, heart beating hard in your chest. Tom Bennett was in the same building as you were.

Alive.

“What the fuck do you call this outfit? This your revenge?”

Tom had just grabbed the brown vest that looked like it had been lifted from a dead body from the male nurse. Jacques, he thought his name was, from what he had gathered when he had woken up five days earlier. 

When he was met with silence, Tom sneered. “I know you speak English, you understood full well when I was calling you a coward.”

Tom smirked at the man looking out of the window to see if the way was clear, but when the nurse stopped him from exiting the room and uncovered the stretcher near the shelves, Tom’s smirk fell as he understood the plan. 

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

Being rolled around in a stretcher was humiliating, but his desire to get away from this place and the stinkers that crowded it was worth this humbling experience, the prospect of even making it home in one piece, seeing his dad, Lois, and little Lois and Harry warming his heart a bit. 

He laid still, even when he felt the stretcher come to a stop and a German officer ask questions to his “saviour”. Minutes later, the ambient sounds of the hospital died and he felt the linen over him being lifted off.

“Fucking finally. Did you take the long road or something?” he asked, straightening his clothes as he got up and took in the small room he was in, dimly lit with only one window and chairs put up against the walls. “What now?”

He was satisfied to see the frustrated scowl on the man’s face but he soon noticed the way his eyes glanced over his shoulder. When he followed his gaze, Tom felt his heart stop altogether. "...Y/N?”

You were standing at a corner of the room, unmoving, your eyes roaming over him and Tom felt crushed under it for a moment before you suddenly moved. He barely had time to register it was really you before you crashed on to him with force, enveloping him in your arms. 

“Oi, careful there,” he winced with a scoff when he felt the pain that shot through his fresh wound at his shoulder. But he didn’t make any move to push you away as he felt your breath on his neck and your scent fill his nostrils, so familiar, so sweet. He had no choice but to assess that it was really you. 

You were finally in his arms. 

Well, almost. “Sorry! I didn’t think…” concerned, you pulled away from him, giving him space and making him instantly regret his words. “I know you’ve been shot, I was just so happy to see you…” 

“It’s ok. You can’t be as bad as a bullet,” he chuckled, taking in the way your cheeks reddened at his joke and eliciting a small smile on your lips.

He managed to stay still for only two whole seconds before pulling you back against him, willing to take everything you would give him, everything you were. Your warmth, your embrace, your presence. You were the first familiar face he had seen in weeks, and he was still processing that you were really here.

He felt your hands coming to rest on his back again shyly, taking care not to press against his shoulder and he exhaled in blissfulness. He held you close until a clearing of throat came from somewhere behind him. You both pulled apart to look at Jacques, hand on the doorknob and absolutely not ashamed to have ruined this moment.

“Hey, Y/N. Tell him that he must be in the hall at nightfall, the contact will wait for him there. Meanwhile, he must not move from here, it's too much risk, d'accord?"

Tom saw you frown. “Oui, understood. But I thought you spoke English, why don't you tell that yourself?"

"I don't have time to lose with that merdeux. He can already count himself damn lucky that O'Connor accepts to help him, and you seem to have things well in hand... So, all the better for me."

You chuckled dryly, your eyes lightening a bit as you did so, and Tom arched a brow on his forehead at that. What was so funny?

“Very well,” you replied as the man opened the door and made him stop when you thanked him with all of your heart. Jacques gave you a nod before barely granting a glance at Tom and left the room.

“What did he say?” inquired Tom as soon as the man had disappeared. 

“He said that you must meet the contact in the hall in about…” you eyed the clock that was hanging above the door, narrowing your eyes. “Two hours, when the sun will be down. It’ll be easier not to get spotted. The Germans are tense today, it is said that Hitler himself was in Paris this morning.”

Jacques’ interruption had you take a step back away from him and as Tom mourned your closeness, he was able to notice the way you shivered at the mention of the Fuhrer. His instinct instantly went to soothe you, but he stopped himself. The distant memory of the last time he saw you and the struggle he endured during this last month slowly came back, and he suddenly didn’t know how to act anymore.

All he knew was that he had been mad at you at some point.

“So it’s not you, huh? The contact,” he said, putting his hands in his pocket bitterly. “Seemed too good to be true.” 

You must have seen his mood change on his face because you brought your arms to cross them over your chest protectively in reaction.  “No… I know my way around, but I don’t have the means to go to Spain,” you tried to joke with a smile, but it didn’t stick.

Instead, Tom felt everything he had on his heart slowly takes over. “I came for you, you know,” he said, not leaving your gaze. “Back in Manchester. I came back to your flat, but you were already gone. No goodbyes, no letters, nothing. You said three days.”

He watched as your eyes filled with guilt instantly, making him want to take back what he had just said, make you understand that it was all because he had been miserable. 

But it was too late. “I thought it would be better that way, for everybody. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry…” he nodded, tongue pressing against his inner cheek in animosity. “You didn’t even send a letter to us afterwards. To Dad and Lois. To me.”

“I… I thought you wouldn't have wanted me to. I thought you would be mad at me,” you tried to explain.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” he scoffed. “Did what we had mean so little to you, Y/N?”

“Tom…”

“No, really. I know you’re the bravest out of the two of us and all, but when you take so much place in my head, I would have expected you to at least try and end things properly,” he blurted out, nostrils flaring a bit in repressed rancour. “That would have been more like you.”

Tom was spiteful, but otherwise he found himself rather calm considering what he had experienced the last two months after he had discovered you gone. And now you were staring back at him, tears in your eyes, and he felt awful.

"It was a mistake," you suddenly said, shaking your head and hiding your face from him. "Coming here. I should have left you alone, I'm sorry."

You made for the door, passing by him in a blink of an eye and he barely had time to react. He tried to stop you as he made to grab you with his wrong arm, making him groan in the process and he was left with no choice but to rush to the door as well. He slammed it shut as you opened it, trapping you against it.

"No wait-" he called out before lowering his voice to a whisper, your hair brushing against the side of his face. "Wait… I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." 

You turned around, leaning your back against the door as you tried to not let a single tear fall over your cheek.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, coming to press his forehead over yours as you closed your eyes in reaction, his own refusing to leave your face. "Don't leave again."

You let out a trembling breath that fanned over his skin. “You’re the one leaving…” you said sadly, smiling weakly as you opened your eyes, glimmering. Then he felt one of your hands flatten against his chest between the two of you, resting there.

“It would be so much easier if you hated me…” you continued, looking somewhere between the hand on his chest and his lips, and he felt compelled to bring his own finger over the side of your jaw.

“Yeah…” he scoffed, grazing your skin. “Well I don’t think it’s that simple.”

Only your breaths could be heard in the room as he savoured your closeness, slightly pulling back from your face so he could see you better.

“Come with me,” he said in a low murmur, making you look back at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know where I’m going, but at least it will be away from here. Away from them.”

You bit your lip, almost like you had waited for those very words, a pained expression instantly appearing on your features. “I can’t Tom, I-” you started as he felt the pressure over his chest grow. “I have to stay here, in case he returns, I can’t…”

“Who?” he asked, his fingers falling at the hem of your dress over your shoulder in incomprehension.

“My brother,” you answered in a light shake of your head. “He was in the north, fighting. We have had no news for months, and I hoped… I hoped that he would come here, after everything that happened. After they were pushed back. Just maybe.”

Tom felt a rush of empathy take over him as he watched your eyes turn mournful, feeling the need to take the anguish away, to erase the pain on your face that he had pictured you with so many times when he was at sea himself. He wanted to be even closer.

But you have never felt so far away but at that moment. 

“Y/N…” he started, seeing you escape his gaze once more. “If your brother is still… If your brother is still out there, Paris is the last place he’ll come.”

“But you made it,” you said, eyes fluttering, hopeful. “You’re here.”

“I was lucky,” he admitted grudgingly. “I was wounded, they told me they passed me through the lines before the Germans got here. Otherwise I’d be taken as a prisoner of war. Otherwise I’d be…”

He stopped, choosing not to think about the horrible things that would have happened but rather of what was.

“Otherwise I wouldn't be here, with you,” he pressed, applying a light pressure on your shoulder that made you shiver. “Trust me, if I had a choice I wouldn’t have come here, and your brother won’t either, Y/N.”

You let out a defeated sigh. You already knew all of that, you just didn’t want to admit it.

You ducked under his arm, leaving him cold and longing next to the door while you brought a hand to your throat in anguish, not quite looking at him. “I know. I know I just… I can’t just wait, not knowing while they kill and terrorise and take over. It’s just… horrifying Tom.” 

“Come with me,” he repeated, coming to stand right behind you. “There is nothing left for you here, right?”

You turned to him, the tears in your eyes gone as you looked at him with renewed determination. “I can’t, you have to go home, and they have a plan to get you there, a sound one. You are the first of many, this is important, and I won’t be the one to jeopardise that,” you argued, taking his hand at his side with purpose.

“You’re just being stubborn again.”

You sighed, a sorry look on your face. “I can’t go with you because two people have less chance to be spotted than three. I’ll be fine if I stay, you won’t,” you pointed out, eyes intense. “I have ways to leave the city, legal ways. I… I heard you, I know I should leave, go back to the countryside. I’ll do it I promise.”

Tom remained silent, the sour taste in his mouth descending into his throat and he found nothing to say, no arguments, not even a witty response to give you. All of that because he knew you were right. 

All he wanted was for all of this to be over and to be back to the time where you read your books in his living room, drinking tea while he enjoyed a smoke and the way you laughed. But that was impossible now. He was meant to probably die somewhere at sea, or in France if he didn’t make it back, and you were meant to be with your family, two armies separating you.

“There is a curfew,” you stated after a long pause, finding your words again and speaking in a low voice. “I have to get back…” 

He wanted to argue, to find something, anything, but his mind was blank. Instead he watched the way your eyelashes fluttered and how you looked at the clock like it was the fouless thing you’ve even seen.

“Oh, I have something for you,” you remembered, and he saw you reach into your purse to put out two packets of cigarettes. “I figured you would want it. It’s not mild like back in Manchester but, maybe you’ll like those anyway.”

Tom stared at it, unable to take it at first. That was it, the sign that your time together was coming to an end, that you would disappear again and although neither of you wanted to, he knew that you had to.

You put the packets in his hands yourself instead, letting your fingers rest on his hands for a while, pensive.

“Come home safely, Tom, and desert,” you stated, a smile at the corner of your lips. “Properly this time.”

He smiled back. “Well, I’ll have to come back eventually. Who would be left to save your sorry frog’s arses if not us Brits, eh?”

He had talked in a joking manner but he absolutely didn’t feel like laughing, rather focusing on not letting his frustration that was growing by the minute get the better of him and on your fingers on his hands.

You had smiled a bit but your stare was intense, meaningful. He felt like time had stopped before you suddenly came to hold him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder again softly and staying there, silence stretching. 

“Take care of yourself, Tom,” you breathed in his neck, your voice trembling. “Please.”

He held you back, wishing the moment would never be over and he could feel the beating of your heart somehow, beating along with his own. But after a while you slightly pulled back, letting go of you and he felt your lips press a single kiss on his cheek, unsure if the wetness there were your tears or his own.

“Goodbye, Tom.”

Then you were out of the room, barely letting him take a last look at your face as you closed the door behind you, and he just stood there, waiting for the steps to fade away in the corridor like some sort of dream. Then he brought his hand to his face, brushing it as to wake up.

He looked around, alone in a room he was doomed to wait in in order to get back where you weren’t, and when he kicked the bin that was beside the door with his foot, sending it to the other side of the room, it didn’t soothe him at all.

That was the longest two hours of his life.

You had no appetite on this yet another Franco-German morning in your flat. Pigeons were cooing by your window where your bag laid open, half packed, clothes spread other the bed and left abandoned there. Maybe what had pushed you to start packing last night when you came home, dry tears over your cheeks was the will to finally make the sound decision and leave Paris, the conversation with Tom ringing in your ears telling you that your brother wouldn’t make it back here. You’d be better back at your parent’s, you gathered. Or maybe what had pushed you to pack was something else, but you didn’t want to dwell on it, deciding to chase the ache in your chest for now.

You decided to visit the hospital in the afternoon, unable to rest until you knew if it had worked. You knew it was too early, but you didn’t care. If something had happened, they would know of it. Webster would know.

When you entered the lobby, you almost turned back when you saw the abnormally high number of German officers, coming in and out of the heavy doors as you tried to make your way to the first floor. When you reached your friend, she immediately dragged you into an empty room, panic in her eyes.

“Ils l’ont arrêté, Y/N,” she said, taking your hands.

“Arrested? Arrested who, Henriette?” you asked, feeling your throat tighten at her expression, desperately looking into her eyes.

“Léon, from the psychiatric unit. They came this morning and arrested him.”

“What?” you exclaimed, half relieved and half scared. “Why? On what ground?”

Henriette gave you a pained look. “Because I think that he is… Because he is Jewish.”

You recoiled, dread filling you as you thought about your bag on the bed back in your flat and your friend in front of you, all alone.

Like you were.

“That’s it. You’re not staying here. You’re leaving, and I’m coming with you.”

“But I can’t! I have work here, I’m useful, I save lives… I need the money.”

“You won’t have money when they’ll put you away in those labour camps. Henriette, we can't wait around until they take you away.”

Your friend only stared at you, defeated. She didn’t want to leave Paris, what she had always known. She didn’t want to leave her job or Webster.

But you were right.

“Très bien. I just don’t know what to do.”

“I do. Pack, we leave in the morning.”

A/N: By the time the Germans entered Paris the 13 of June, the Parisians that remained stayed inside their homes in fear, as there was a strict curfew. I made reader witness the parade for image purposes.

Here's an accurate representation of myself in my father's attic searching for testimonies of my grand-father and objects from WWII.

I frigging' love that attic.

Part 5

(bold means I couldn't tag you) @chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @yentroucnagol@crlttpstrn @tssf-imagines @omgkatherine01 (I allowed myself to tag you) @nightdiamond8663 @r0segard3n