#Punchy handy

[micerhat]

Can’t have Punchy without Handerson.

[lovebugism]

forgive me for what is likely a basic ass request but... steve has a crush on eddie's best friend? smut optional but encouraged :) (love, j.d. aka mypoisonedvine)

✶ ┄ LOVE YOU, ON PURPOSE (i)

part one | part two

summary: steve harrington took extra care to avoid the local freaks of hawkins. having shared custody of a fourteen-year-old forced him into a bitter friendship with one, he's steadfast in his refusal to befriend the other. that is, until you start working at the groove beside family video. steve claims he only fell for you because you tripped him. (17k)

pairing: steve harrington / eddie's bff!reader

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, protective eddie, canon divergence TW swearing, bullying, some smooching, talks of insecurities, reader is doubtful of steve's intentions because steve used to be a dick <3

a/n: this request has been sitting in my inbox for ages. ages, i tell you! i wrote the outline the day it was sent in and ended up turning the blurb request into a full on 30k+ word fic. i'm sorry for the wait j.d. (and to everyone else who's been waiting patiently for me to put this out). i quite literally put my heart, soul, pussy, and so, so many hours into this. please enjoy! feedback is always appreciated! xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Something happens and I'm head over heels.

It would be a total disservice to call you Eddie’s best friend.

It wouldn’t even feel right to call you his platonic soulmate or his sister from another dimension. Not when the two of you are essentially an extension of the same human being. It’s a twin flame on steroids — your mirrored souls make the rest of Hawkins believe in some sort of higher power. There’s no way it wasn’t destiny that placed the two of you together at exactly the right place, at exactly the right time.

Your entwined spirits could’ve been a beautiful thing.

It’s too bad you’re both total fucking freaks.

Unfortunately, being a couple of metalheads who spend their free time creating fantastical worlds in silly little board games hasn’t become cool yet — for some sad, strange reason. It leaves you and Eddie as the town’s token social pariahs. The kind of misfits you only spot when you care enough to look — laughing too loudly at the lunch table or sharing a cigarette in the alleyway between school buildings.

The kind of weirdos who get your attention without trying. The kind that people only look at when they need something to make fun of.

With that being said, everything Steve knew about you came from the people that hated you.

Tommy Hagan said that you and Eddie had been fucking since the seventh grade, that the two of you had gotten close between blowjobs and fingerbangs in the old chemistry classroom. No one’s quite sure where it came from, but they believed him without thinking twice. You and Eddie tried to squash the rumor for years before leaning into it full throttle.

“And these are the freaks,” Tommy announced when he approached your lunch table. He was giving Billy Hargrove a grand tour of the high school, or rather the shithole, and detoured like you and Eddie were some kind of sideshow attraction. Him and his goons ogled at you like zoo animals.

Steve idled some feet away, not as interested in the bit as the rest of them. He was even less interested in entertaining the new kid on the block thateveryone else seemed to be obsessed with.

“Hey, Tommy...” Eddie sing-songed through a mouthful of PB&J. You’d given him the other half of your sandwich, because you always give him the other half of your sandwich. “Hope you’re not comin’ back to ask for a handy again. I already turned you down, remember?”

A dumb grin took over the boy’s freckled face. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned over to the California boy. “I wouldn’t get too close to them. Don’t know where their hands have been, you know? If I had to guess, I think Punchy got Munson’s rocks off in the janitor’s closet before lunch period.”

Neither of you were particularly fazed by the laughter that erupted all at once and threatened to swallow you whole. Instead, you smiled with bits of grape jelly smeared on your chin. “I bet you think about it a lot, don’t you, Tommy?”

You really lived up to the nickname. Punchy. You weren’t entirely sure where it came from — your fierce temper, perhaps, or maybe your intense personality. Either way, it suited you.

Vicki Carmichael once said that you bit a guy on a date one time. Barry Jenkins, a tennis douchebag who thought the world revolved around him because his dad owned a string of local laundromats. He took you on a date in his mom’s Impala and assumed making out in the backseat gave him free rein to stick his hand up your skirt.

The asshole sported a red mark on his neck the next day.

When people asked you about it, you smiled with all your teeth in place of any real answer.

Carol Perkins loved to comment on the state of your wardrobe, telling anyone who would listen about the time she caught you rifling through the $1 bargain bins outside the thrift store. She liked to joke that you were stealing from them. “Because she can’t even afford a couple measly dollars. It’s kinda sad, honestly. I feel a little bad for her,” you overheard her saying once.

You were smoking a cigarette in the stall and watching through the crack of it while her and her friends touched up their lip gloss. 

“Wait, really?” Tina wondered, stopping mid-swipe of mascara through her long lashes to gape at the girl beside her. Because, god forbid, they don’t have someone to make fun of.

Carol snapped bright pink bubblegum between her teeth. She looked offended, almost — manicured brows furrowed and shiny lips snarled — like the idea of her taking pity on you was insulting. ��No,” she snapped in response.

You’re pretty sure it’s the only rumor about you that’s got any bit of truth to it. Or any rumor of hers, really. The thrift store was great and all, but you firmly believe that your best pieces come remanufactured straight from Eddie Munson’s closet.

So it isn’t any wonder why the two of you seem to dress so similarly — all leather jackets and distressed jeans and hand-me-down t-shirts that are either too big or too small. The both of you take little care in your appearance, wearing only what you feel good in. And sometimes that means wild hair and baggy clothes that swallow you whole.

To make it worse, you and Eddie even talk the same. You’re both loud and brash and have very little awareness of personal space. You aren’t scared to make a scene or use your voice when you think it’s being stifled. And when you love someone, they know it, because you won’t leave them the hell alone.

These are all the things that Steve hated about Eddie. So he hasn’t quite figured out why he’s so damn in love with you. 

But he is. 

Quite dreadfully so. 

Head over heels and stumbling since the day he met you for a second time.

It was the spring of 1986 and The Groove had just opened up. Steve had heard murmurings of a record shop taking over the empty outlet adjacent to Family Video but had no idea it would nearly run them out of business. The shiny, new music store attracted all of their usual customers. People were more excited to buy new cassettes than rent movies they’d seen a thousand times already.

Steve didn’t mind, though. He liked it best when the store was empty. But all of his friends — a closeted lesbian, a basket case, and a couple of fourteen-year-olds — seemed to have the same affliction that was plaguing the rest of the town. 

He tried not to be offended when Robin said she was going to spend her break next door and not with him in the closet-sized break room. 

He failed.

Robin spent her half-hour and then some meeting you. She returned forty-five minutes later with a blushing face and a bleeding heart. Suddenly, there were two people in Steve’s life that couldn’t seem to shut up about you. As much as it annoyed him, he let her gush about you anyway, because that’s what best friends do, after all.

But Steve knew you once upon a time. Or he thought he did.

You were a loudmouthed metalhead who wore all black to blend in to Eddie’s shadow. You created fictional characters because it was easier than making friends with real people. You were strange and awkward and mean and gauche — the total opposite of this heavenly, mystical creature Robin was making you out to be.

But then it became this whole… thing.

With Robin and Eddie constantly talking over him about you, the rest of the kids were as confused as Steve was. And as they so often tend to do, the group decided to take matters into their own hands and make the short trek to meet you formally. Steve figured that their answer would be final. When those teenagers hate you, you know it. He learned that the hard way

They’re gone for a little over an hour and come back with a thousand stories and various tapes they say you gave to them for free.

Lucas has got a new Beastie Boys cassette and a proud smile on his face as he recounts the promise you’d made him about catching his next basketball game. “And she said she really liked my ranger,” he brags less than humbly, telling the older teens about how you’d heard stories about his track record in Hellfire campaigns. There’s a sudden suaveness to his voice as he bounces his brows up and down at them.

Max scrunches her face in disgust. She clutches a Kate Bush tape close to her chest, like it’s a prized possession she never wants to let go of. She rolls her eyes at her boyfriend (or maybe ex-boyfriend, but Steve can never keep up these days) and makes her own conversation with Robin. The two girls are the only ones with more than half a brain cell between them, or so they claim.

The redhead tells her that she plans on bringing her broken skateboard over to your store soon. She says the thing’s been wobbly for days, and Robin nods along like she knows all about it. “Well, apparently, she has some tools and knows how to fix it. Said the trucks just needed to be reinforced or some shit, I don’t know, I’m just glad it’s getting fixed.”

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asks her, confusion contorting his words along with his features. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “I could’ve fixed it.”

“You don’t know anything about skateboards,” Max monotones.

“Okay, but you don’t even know this girl! She’s a total stranger, Max. That’s dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes. “She’s nice, Steve. Way nicer than you—”

That makes him scoff.

“—And you’d know that if you got to know her.”

It’s Dustin’s turn to gush about you next. His opinion, for a reason Steve has never been able to place, arguably means the most to him. And the kid is just absolutely fucking beaming about you. He holds a Star Wars orchestral vinyl in his hand —  the brand new one he’s been talking about for weeks but couldn’t afford. 

He talks of the collection of DnD figurines you were painting behind the counter and the promise you made to make one for his bard come the next campaign. 

Dustin gazes at Steve, wide-eyed and nodding like he’s as amazed by the revelation as Steve is.  “She’s cool, Steve. Like… really cool.” 

The boy thought that Robin just had a crush, that Eddie was just being Eddie and overdramatizing all of his stories about you. But you’re everything they said you’d be and then some. The kind of stranger you meet that takes your breath away, that makes you sad in the understanding that you’ll never see them again. Dustin is grateful you don’t have to be a stranger anymore.

You sounded… nice. More than nice. They painted you out to be a fucking angel, the way you took care of a bunch of kids you barely knew for the better part of an hour. You weren’t the freak everyone made you out to be all that time ago.

They talk a great deal about your looks, too. Dustin, mostly. Lucas had received a glare and a half-hearted punch on the arm from Max when he said how pretty you were — even though she ultimately agreed with him. The curly-headed boy uses too big words to describe the renaissance painting you are, all heavenly morose and beautifully strange.

“Hey,” Eddie scolds from the sidelines, mostly playful. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. Bring it down a few notches, ‘kay?”

Steve is silent for the rest of the day after that. He’s not pouting about it like Robin keeps saying he is, just reserved in his reminiscence. 

He can’t tell if he’s intrigued or annoyed. They talk about you the way people used to talk about King Steve — with a borderline obsession for someone they don’t really know. And deep down, he knows he’s just jealous. Jealous that no one talks about him that way anymore. Jealous that none of the kids have ever talked about him that way.

It leaves him skeptical and wanting to see the real thing for himself.

Steve opts to meet you on his lunch break the next day with a tight chest and sweaty palms, like a part of him knew it was going to change the trajectory of his life for the foreseeable future.

The door dings with his arrival. The record store smells like earth and nostalgia, a bit like flipping through the pages of an old book. Vinyls sit in rows and in towers that rise to the ceilings. Colorful cassettes, of which there are thousands, have nooks and crannies of their own. Posters decorate the walls along with various patterned records — there’s hardly a blank spot in the entire store.

And when Steve sees you for the first time, he only sees the back of you.

You’re in all black, just like he imagined you’d be. A sliver of skin at your midriff is showing from where your too small shirt has ridden up your torso. And your hair is as wild as ever, though a little longer than he remembers. You’ve haphazardly pinned back the ornery strings with a sparkly pin, but it doesn’t do much to tame them.

A breeze of warm wistfulness washes over him at the sight of you. A reminder of a life that used to be his, that you were a part of only passively.

It’s your smile that does him in. Maybe because you’ve never looked at him with it. As far as Steve’s concerned, no one’s ever smiled at him the way you do, and you barely even know him. You hadn’t seen him in over a year and if you shared any words in the past, it wasn’t anything more than snarky one-liners. But here you are, looking at him with sunshine anyway.

“Hi,” you beam with the warmest grin he’s ever seen, swiveling in your chair to face him. “Welcome in.”

He’s too stunned by the sight of you to respond. He just stands in the doorway, all wide-eyed and gaping, like he’s the first to see an angel on earth. And it’s strange because you’re far from perfect. 

You’re blousy and a little disheveled, like you’d been running late that morning. The lack of makeup allows your imperfections to shine through in a way that makes you somehow more alluring. And you’ve got paint splattered like freckles on your cheeks, the culprit being the figurines you’re painting behind the counter. If you know you’re dotted with shades of red, blue, and green, you don’t show it.

“Can I help you find anything?” you ask him, still kind even though he’s acting like a fucking weirdo. That’s supposed to be your thing, not his.

Steve grasps for something to say but comes up short. His lips part and then close again in an embarrassing pattern that resembles a fish out of water. It makes sense, though; it’s a bit how you’ve made him feel just now.

When he realizes he can’t make out anything intelligible, he shakes his head. “Uh… nope.”

He’s leaving before he even realizes he’s leaving. The door dings again and he’s on the other side of it, long legs carrying him the short distance to Family Video at record speed. 

He swings and slams the egress shut in quick succession, as though the ghost of you had been chasing him. He leans against the glass pane and exhales a heaving sigh, eyes squeezing shut as he recoils at what he’d just done.

He always knew that King Steve had died some time ago, but this was a new low.

Robin watches from the front counter with wide eyes. “…Did you forget something?”

Steve sighs a big, hopeless sigh, then peeks his eyes open. “My dignity.”

“She’s cute, right?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Her brows bounce in time with the smirk on her painted lips.

“Yeah, she’s cute,” he answers, all mad because it’s obvious. “She’s fucking— she’s beautiful.”

“Aw. Look at you,” she sing-songs and tilts her head to her shoulder. “I think your heart grew three sizes today, Stevie.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I never find out 'til I'm head over heels.

Steve, all caught up in his boyish misery, has no idea that he’s enraptured you in a similar way.

You hadn’t cared very much for the guy in high school. You didn’t really know him then, and you didn’t particularly want to. King Steve was rich. King Steve was pretty — too pretty. King Steve got attention from pretty cheerleaders and overaggressive douchebags alike.

King Steve didn’t need any affection from the local freakshow.

But, by some strange turn of events, he’d managed to make nice with your best friend. 

The way Eddie talks about Steve, his words always dripping with a distant venom, it sounds like they still hate each other. Maybe they do. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit that they hang out far too often not to be friends.

If you were still in school, you probably would’ve judged him for it. Being friends with the boy whose buddies made your life hell certainly warranted some degree of ridicule. But now, having graduated and trying to move on from it all, you can’t find it in yourself to. 

High school might as well have been a lifetime now. There’s no use in holding onto old ghosts.

If Eddie could let that shit go, so could you.

He drops by after school to keep you company like he always does when he doesn’t have a campaign to prep for. It’s his favorite pastime, perhaps a close second to Dungeons and Dragons. He gets to hang out with his best friend and swim in an ocean of music while he does it. As far as freaks go, Eddie Munson considers himself the luckiest.

He likes to hear you talk about everything new you’ve gotten in while he rifles through the old stuff that isn’t selling as well. You happily let him take what he wants for free. And what he doesn’t take, he doesn’t pay for either, because you cheat the system with your employee discount and then wipe the record from inventory. Just to be safe.

“I love having a criminal for a best friend,” he jokes every time, without fail.

Eddie stays by your side until the sun sets. He parts only to flip the sign at the door to closingfor you, then plops himself back on the counter again. His legs hang off the side of it, sneakers occasionally thudding against the wood when he kicks them back and forth too hard. He scans the back of an old Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl and bobs his head to the rhythmic bass as the song fills the empty store. He’ll take this one home, he decides.

You keep on painting like you have been all day, breaking only to assist customers or stretch your aching spine. The forest dragon had been far more work than you expected — made of pretty purple leaves instead of scales and blowing blush-colored flowers instead of fire. The little piece of clay has resulted in a day of back-breaking work. 

You’ll be damned if Eddie’s next campaign isn’t the most stellar looking one yet.

Focusing on that makes it easier not to bring up Steve. 

You want to. You just don’t know how. 

Eddie’s friends were Eddie’s, and you don’t get involved where it doesn’t concern you. Besides, you did sort of give him shit for hanging out with The Hair way back when. The last thing you want is him taking the piss out of you about it.  

You don’t want to sound like you care too much. Even more, you don’t want it to be obvious that you’ve been thinking about the boy all day — making yourself sick as you stew in what could’ve run him out like he did.

“Saw your friend today,” you remark, feigning a sort of absentmindedness, as you swipe your brush along the petals of your dragon. “King Steve.”

“Oh, you met him?” Eddie wonders, more intrigued by your words than you expected he’d be. He says it like you didn’t already know the guy — like this new Steve was a totally different person you needed to be reacquainted with to really know.

“I wouldn’t say met him exactly. He just, like, popped in for half a second and ran out.”

With your back facing him, you don’t see the shit-eating grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. 

Eddie was waiting for Steve to crack and finally see you. He knew he’d bite after the way the kids had talked about you — Dustin, especially. Because even though he claims he doesn’t have favorites, he’s got a very obvious soft spot for the boy. And he knew Steve would like you because everyone likes you. When they’re not clouded by judgment and high school hierarchies, at least. 

He’s still got no idea how a guy that trips all over himself at the sight of a pretty girl could’ve ruled Hawkins once upon a time.

“Fucking idiot,” Eddie laughs to himself, already gearing up for the shit he was going to give Steve the next time he saw him. 

But you see the boy before Eddie does. Steve comes back the next day, an hour or more after opening, less frazzled than the day before. The nearly twenty-four hours he had to prepare himself for the angel he was going to see allowed him not to make a total fool of himself when he stepped into the store again.

And you wouldn’t say it out loud — hell, it’s not even something you want to admit to yourself — but you’d been hoping he’d stop by again. 

You thought Robin would come by and drag him with her, or that Dustin and his friends would come around before Steve dropped them all home. Frankly, you didn’t really care what brought him back. You just wanted to see him again.

Steve’s different than the boy he used to be. Enough that it was obvious from a measly thirty-second interaction. He used to be a charmer who could talk his way out of anything. Not to you, of course, he wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to you. But then he stops by out of nowhere, in rare form, stumbling all over himself and looking like he didn’t recognize you at all.

You’re still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not.

He’s mystified you in a way he probably isn’t used to. Most girls like the hair and the arms — the super buff, super strong arms that fit so nicely in his uniform — or the fact that he’s got money and a reputation that precedes him. But you’ve never given a shit about any of that. 

You’re more enchanted by the way nothing could even begin to conceal the soft, shy boy that King Steve had apparently turned into.

The door chimes above his head when he enters. The scent of earthy nostalgia is already familiar to him — lavender, sage, and something deeper. Steve considers it progress when he plants himself a few feet away from the door this time. If he runs out again, he’ll have to make an embarrassingly longer escape.

You turn away from your nearly finished figurine to greet the new customer. The practiced smile unconsciously widens at the sight of him. “Hi!”

“Hey,” he smiles with a curt nod. He regrets the half-wave he gives you the second his hand shoots up.

“You gonna run off on me again?” you tease and swivel in your chair to face him completely.

You’re wearing a Hellfire shirt that’s just slightly too big for you. It probably belonged to Eddie before it belonged to you. And you wear a corset-looking thing over top of it, a sheer number with a lace embroidery and a ribbon that’s tied in a bow at your belly. It doesn’t cinch you in the slightest, though, more for decoration than practicality.

“No that was… I just—” Steve huffs out a laugh as he tries and fails to come up with an excuse. He figures anything is better than the truth — that he saw how pretty you were and his brain forgot how to work because he’s the lamest person on the planet. 

So he chucks a thumb over his shoulder and fibs. “I left something back at Family Video. Had to run back.”

“It’s okay. I was just teasing,” you assure. “Uh— Are you looking for anything specific?”

“No. Not really. Just… new records to add to my collection, you know?”

“Oh, you collect vinyls?”

He doesn’t realize that’s what he’s just said until you repeat the words back to him. 

He’s kind of just talking out of his ass and hoping something sticks. That line does, apparently, because you’re beaming at him instantly. He’s scared to say no because then you’ll stop smiling. And he can’t have that.

“Yep,” he answers with a nod. The stack of records collecting dust in his den has to count for something, right?

He can’t find it in himself to regret his little white lie when it has you lighting up like a christmas tree. 

You toss your paintbrush down when you rush from behind the counter to meet him. You seem to have forgotten that you’d just dipped the thing in purple paint. The thing splatters shades of lilac all over the limestone bench. And, in your haste, you nearly smack yourself with the leaden slab as you raise it to pass by.

Steve’s eyes widen when you narrowly dodge the weighty thing — then jumps, startled by the dense thwap that echoes through the small store when it slams back down again. He’s almost worried that it might’ve busted the hinge. 

You cower at the loud sound but move on with a commendable finesse, too focused on him to care about anything else.

“That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to collect, but records are so expensive, it’s crazy,” you ramble as you walk up to him, totally unthinking in the way you grab his forearm and usher him to the back of the store. 

Your sheer black skirt swishes at your ankles as you walk. The dainty fabric is patterned with sparkly stars and crescent moons. He notices you wear a pair of dark shorts underneath for modesty. Steve tries his best not to stare at your ass. He almost succeeds.

“We actually just got in a couple of Dio records — The Holy Diver, you know, the one that just came out. I’m pretty sure there’s only, like, a couple thousand of these things in the whole world — which is totally fucking bonkers if you think about it,” you explain in one breath, laughing, before stopping abruptly in your tracks. Steve nearly runs into you when you turn around to face him. 

You laugh again, a sadder one, this time at yourself, as you bring your palm to your forehead. “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t even know if you like Dio. I mean, of course, you don’t, right? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… rambled like that.”

You’d just been so excited and Steve had just been so different that you forgot who you were talking to. Hawkins High Royalty, Prom King, Biggest Flirt and Life of the Party in the yearbook. 

As far as you’re concerned, Eddie Munson is your only friend. He’s the only person in the whole world you can be yourself around and never get self-conscious about any of it. 

But sometimes you have moments like this one with a total stranger. Moments where you lose yourself in the conversation and your own jumbled thoughts. Moments where you talk and talk and talk until something thumps you on the head and you realize how annoying you’re being. This time, it’s the musky smell of his cologne that knocks you back to Ms. Click’s history class. The crisp breeze of bitter nostalgia makes you shiver.

Steve can see the way you get so suddenly aware of yourself and how the cognizance of the moment makes you writhe. He tries to bat away the lingering insecurities with a smile. 

“Love ‘em,” he responds with a nod. He raises his brows and scoffs, grins and crosses his arms over his chest. “I mean, Dio? God, they’re like… top ten bands of all time, at least. Maybe even five.”

That isn’t totally true. He doesn’t know much about the band to have an opinion, but he’s pretty sure he might’ve said he hated them once. That was only because Eddie wouldn’t stop talking about them, though. Steve could learn to like them, if it means so much to you.

That’s exactly how he justifies spending $60 on four records. 

He tells himself that he’ll listen to them and think of you, that it’ll be a solid conversation starter the next time he sees you. 

You had a whole damn rack dedicated to all your favorite bands — “I put it together myself,” you’d bragged with a proud smile. S it’s a wonder Steve didn’t walk out with the entire damn store. Because you just kept on smiling and talking, so happy to have someone to care about what you had to say, and he ate up every second of it.

He’ll have to work overtime to keep his pockets from hurting, but it’ll be worth it. Because he’ll get to keep talking to you and indulging in all the things you seem to love more than life itself.

You’re still rambling as you ring him up. Steve notices you haven’t stopped yourself like you did before. His lack of dismissal has made you more comfortable, it seems. He likes that.

“I think we’re also gonna get a couple cases of Def Leppard cassettes tomorrow, which is super sick. I think I might have to start collecting, honestly. Tapes are whole lot cheaper than records, you know,” you tell him as you scan and bag all his vinyls. “And it’s also, like, a fucking stellar album. I don’t think I’ve stopped listening to Photograph since it came out.”

“Photograph. Right. Love that one,” Steve nods with a kind smile as he props his elbows on the counter. He doesn’t particularly care that he’s not entirely sure what you’re talking about, or that he’s never actually heard the song. He’s starting to realize you could talk for hours and he wouldn’t get bored.

“Oh, is that your favorite too? Eddie’s more of a Foolin’ kinda guy.”

Despite the fact that he’s never heard the song or this album in his life, he nods anyway. 

He sort of spent the first eighteen years of his life faking just about everything — it kind of came with being the King of Hawkins High. It’s a talent that hasn’t yet left him, it seems, lying through his teeth to impress people. It’s almost become a second nature to him.

“Foolin’s good, yeah, but I think Photograph is obviously better.”

“Obviously, right!” you exclaim with a sunshine-coated laugh. “That’s exactly what I told him! But he’s way too hard-headed to be wrong about anything, so…”

“Well, I’d like to put it on the record that I firmly agree with you,” Steve replies so smoothly that his tongue must be dripping with honey. It’s so easy for him to fall into King Steve mode — when he isn’t forgetting how to speak and running off, that is.

You’ve learned a lot Steve in the past half hour. He likes metal, but leans more toward rock. Particularly all the metal and rock that you like. He hasn’t once had a differing opinion than you, besides telling you he heard Eddie playing a Metallica song once that he didn’t particularly care for. The second you tell him it’s one of your favorites, he backtracks instantly, blaming the Munson boy for being too sloshed to play it properly.

And you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you just now either, with his chin toward his chest as he peers up at you with warm amber eyes. He’s the charmer that he always was. It makes you remember, again, just who you’re talking to.

“We have a lot in common, King Steve,” you lilt with a playful grin.

He deflates at the use of the old nickname. You see the light in his eyes flicker for a just moment before he’s ducking his gaze away from you completely. He tries to brush it off with a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not— I’m not really King Steve anymore…”

“No?”

“Nope. Just… Just Steve these days.”

When he looks back at you, he finds you nodding at him, almost in approval. 

Most people are upset to find that he’s changed so much. They hate that he’s no longer the recklessly stupid dumbass they used to get drunk with. 

Not you, though.

“Cool,” you mumble, smiling softly, as you hand him his bag and receipt.

“Uh, I’d love to, you know, come take a look at those tapes when you get ‘em in,” he says as he walks backward towards the door, finally making the brash offer he’s been thinking about this whole time. “Maybe I can bring lunch and we can—”

“Well, Hellfire’s been doing campaigns during lunch recently. And Gareth’s out sick, so I’ve been subbing for him, you know, so…” you interject awkwardly, shifting your weight on your feet. You hate to turn him down, but Eddie might just kill you if he has to get a substitute for the substitute.

“Oh…” he nods, softly puckering his plump pink lips that you can’t seem to stop staring at.

“But I don’t think they’re coming in until late, anyway,” you add quickly. “So, you can stop by at closing, if you want?”

“No, yeah, that’s cool. So cool,” he replies, a little more flustered than he’d been just moments before. He’s just happy that your rejection wasn’t a total refusal.

You try to bite back the wide grin threatening to take over your mouth. “Okay… I’ll catch you later, then, Just Steve.”

“See you,” he waves right before startling himself when he backs into the basket of clearance tapes sitting just beside the door. He barely catches the thing before it tips over completely. He flashes you a shaking smile afterward and finds you covering your mouth with your hand while you try not to laugh too loudly. 

He wishes you’d just went ahead and laughed at him. He wouldn’t have even cared that you were laughing at him, if it meant he got to see you smile.

And even though he’d just gotten done making the biggest fool of himself, he walks back to work feeling like the coolest man alive. There’s a foreign strut in his step that hadn’t been there before he saw you. It doesn’t leave him when he realizes he’s gone slightly over his break and that Keith is manning the counter in his absence.

The man mumbles a monotoned goodbye to the customer he’d just checked out.

She turns around and Steve realizes he recognizes this girl ��� Mindy or Mandy or maybe Monica — from Mr. Kaminsky’s class way back when. She did all of his homework for him before and after letting him fuck her on her twin-sized bed in her all pink room.  That’s when Steve was conquering girls like they were Mount Everest, way before Nancy, when King was a title he wore with pride. 

But he’s still so stuck in his head with thoughts of you that he doesn’t even see Mindy-Mandy-Monica or the flirtatious wave she throws his way.

“You’re ten minutes late,” Keith scolds, with his dead tone and his deader eyes.

Steve only shrugs, uncaring if it came out of his paycheck because — “I just got a date with the hottest woman on the planet,” he boasts with a puffed out chest and too smug smile.

It doesn’t lessen Keith’s anger, just diverts it. Because he knows exactly who he’s talking about. And so does Robin, as she pops her head out from behind the man from where she sits at the computer. “No way,” they chorus in disbelief at his words.

Steve nods. “Yes way.”

“Eddie’s gonna kill you,” Robin remarks with the shake of her head. 

He knows she’s right. He just doesn’t care. 

Eddie’s always been protective of you. Everyone knows that. But the two of them were friends now — or somewhat good-natured acquaintances, at the very least. He would’ve been mad about a year or more ago, if King Steve had decided to suddenly woo his best friend. 

But it’s different now. He’s different now. Eddie knows how much everything’s changed, it’s just a question of if he’s willing to rehash old wounds.

It’s a good thing Steve knows how to take a punch.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Don't take my heart, don't break my heart.

Steve finds you again the next day less happy than he’s gotten used to.

The record store is dim and the red sign at the entrance has been flipped to closed, but the door is left unlocked — for him. The warm scent is a distinct contrast to the frigid spring night, a cozy high hemp and lavender, but your absence is noticeable and terribly heavy. 

Steve lingers in the doorway, his shadow looming like a giant before him from the moonlight streaming in from outside. 

He calls for you in the emptiness.

“Uh… Punchy?”

He’s relieved when you answer. The “back here!” you shout to him is muffled and far away. He follows the sound of your voice, filled suddenly with a childlike consolation. 

The yellow fairy lights dangling over his head guide him through the aisles of cassettes and closer to you. Through a cluttered backroom, Steve finds you standing just outside an opened door — left ajar, for him.

The smile you flash when you see him is as dim as the closed-down store. It lacks all the sunshine you usually look at him with, shades of stormy gray rather than the usual yellows. 

A look of concern flashes across his features — furrowed brows and inquisitive twinkling eyes — as you take a drag from the lit cigarette caught between your pointer and middle finger. You muster your best grin, but it flickers like a shoddy radio signal. 

“Punchy, huh?” you tease.

Steve’s brows pinch together as confusion floods his features. It takes him a moment to realize what he’d said and the nickname he’d used — and he doesn’t want to be dramatic or anything, but he kinda wants to die. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, to hold on to an old high school monicker. And, fuck, if you hate it half as bad as he hates being called king, he deserves a slap to the face right about now.

You laugh instead of ball your first. He’s able to smile meekly in relief. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I… I don’t think I even realized it came out.”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure when you see him getting all apologetic. “Eddie still calls me that all the time, so… Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Steve tries to move on, but it’s hard to when you’re so obviously gloomy. He hates how reserved you’ve gone in your quiet, not talking up a storm like you had been the last time he saw you. Now you’re just… a storm. It’s a little like sitting next to a rumbling rain cloud.

The rumbling rain cloud beside him takes a drag of her cigarette.

“You okay?” he asks and sounds like he really cares.

You didn’t think King Steve was capable of caring about anything other than his hair, but he looks down at you like he can feel every blue bolt of your doom and gloom. He makes you feel seen in the void of your sadness despite all the years you spent being invisible to him.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just the tapes. They didn’t come in,” you answer with a shrug. Smokes leaves your mouth and lingers in white clouds in the air. “So I’m a little bummed.”

“Oh…” is all Steve says and his pink mouth forms a too pretty ‘o’ shape that you can’t draw your gaze from.

The following silence makes you momentarily cautious. Insecurity runs cold over you because no sane person gets this about upset over a broken promise of a couple cassettes. It’s stupid, you know it is, but you were really looking forward to them. It’s like promising a kid the most metal present ever and then snatching it out of their bare hands.

Now, over the course of a couple hours, you’ve managed to convince yourself you won’t remember happiness until you get those stupid tapes.

“Sorry,” you apologize to him for a reason he can’t place. You shift your weight on your feet and peer at him from beneath your lashes. “I know you were looking forward to them, too.”

You extend your hand and offer him the cigarette between your fingers like it’s an olive branch. He takes it from you with a distant smile, then opts to laze against the brick wall like you are. He stays a respectful distance on the other side of the entryway. 

“It’s okay. They’ll come. If I’m being honest, you know, I was kinda more excited to see you.”

His admission is brazen and a tad bit brash, even for a certified ex-douchebag. It lacks all of the usual honey-coated flirtation that usually tints his tone when he’s talking to a pretty girl. Because he wasn’t trying to make you swoon — though he certainly wouldn’t have minded if you had. This wasn’t some romantic advance, just a proclamation of his own personal truth.

A flash of shock contorts your features. “Really?”

“Of course,” he answers, breathing out a laugh that exits along with the smoke in his lungs. “I love talking to you. You’re… You’re cool, you know? S— Super cool.”

His face screws up at his stuttering, and he shakes his head at how the words sound leaving his mouth. His cheeks glow cherry red beneath an orange street lamp. 

“Super cool, huh?” you repeat with a giggle that’s bright enough to illuminate the velvet night. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”

Steve scoffs when he passes the cigarette back to you. Because, lately, that’s all he’s been hearing about you. From Eddie, from Robin, from Dustin — every good thing a person could say about someone else, they all say about you. 

He’s starting to understand why.

Because you’re sweet. Like, pure sugar poured on the tip of his tongue kind of sweet. You’re bright like sunshine and soft like summer rain. You’re a shot of pure espresso for a boy who thought his life was at a dead end. He’s not entirely sure how he ever could’ve thought you were some deep, dark, devil-worshipping freak.

“I don’t believe that,” he dismisses with the shake of his head.

You breathe out a sharp exhale and a puff of nicotine-coated smoke. “I’ve been the town pariah since I was eleven, Steve. Everyone thinks I’m some kinda delinquent who’s in a cult because I play a dumb board game. So, no. No one’s ever thought I was cool before.”

“Still?” Steve wonders with a twisted face. “You graduated, like, a year ago. Are... Are people really still on your ass about that?”

“A little,” you answer with a shrug, trying your best not to look as affected by it all as you feel.

Steve feels his chest swell with the fiery urge to protect you. The same one he gets when Dustin tells him about the assholes at school that are bothering him. He wants to defend you from the same sort of assholes that he used to be. The impulse is borderline primal, rooted somewhere deep and far within himself, because god knows he’s got a terrible track record when it comes to winning fights.

“Shit, Punchy… I’m— I’m sorry.”

You sputter out a laugh at the apology, louder when you realize he’s using the nickname again.

He can’t relate to any of this. The trials and tribulations of being persona non grata everywhere you went were certainly lost on him. Steve might’ve lost his touch somewhere down the road, but he’ll always be crown royalty — the kind of guy you think fondly of when your wonderyears are long gone. But you? You’re lucky if people don’t cross to the other side of the street when they spot you coming.

Perhaps that’s why his words warm you so much. Because, despite all that, he’s trying to make you feel better anyway.

You give him a tender smile and a dwindling cigarette. 

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s whatever, you know? I think it’s because I still hang out with Eddie all the time. Like, people see us and remember what fucking freaks we used to be,” you say with a laugh, then start to ramble without thinking. “We saw Tommy Hagan at Melvald’s the other day, and he looked at us like we caused him severe PTSD or something, like, he looked terrified. I honestly felt a little bad.”

Steve smiles, wide-eyed, equal parts intrigued and unsettled by the reminiscent glimmer in your eye and the daunting giggle that spills from your lips.

“But I wouldn’t leave Eddie, you know?” you blurt, suddenly serious, like you’ve taken offense at the very thought. “Not even if it meant people stopped being so mean. ‘Cause I love him and everything… Even though he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he’s a total pain in the ass,” Steve agrees and flicks the butt of the cig between his fingers. “He loves you too, though. I can tell. The asshole never shuts up about you.”

“He talks about me?” you ask, voice fragile and pitched higher than normal.

Steve doesn’t like the way you say it. He hates how you look at him even more, with a scrunched up face and eyes that flicker with embers of shock. Like you don’t believe it, like you think yourself unworthy of it.

“You’re all he talks about,” the boy assures, feeling so suddenly brave and wanting to make you feel brave too. He hands the cigarette back to you. “I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d never shut up about you either.”

The contorted look of confusion on your face untwists itself, and your features fall flat with disbelief. A smile pulls slow at your mouth. Your eyes glitter an orange gold beneath the streetlight. They flit over to the boy beside you just long enough to take the stick from him.

“Steve Harrington…” you lilt, almost scoldingly so.

It makes him smile. “What?”

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Well, that’s very presumptuous of you,” he retorts playfully. “Who’s to say I was flirting?”

“So you weren’t then?”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs with a knowing, practiced smirk. “Can you blame me?”

You don’t seem impressed by his not-so-subtle attempt at flirting, and he isn’t at all used to that. The bravado and the puppy dog eyes are his one-two punch — any other time, he’d have a phone number tucked safely in his pocket by now. But you’re not biting.

“I’m so not your type,” you dismiss with the shake of your head.

“Yeah?” he challenges, shoving himself off the brick wall with his shoulder and making the short trek over to you. He plants himself next to you, leans with one sneaker crossed over the other, and smiles with a playful twinkle in his eye. “And what’s my type?”

“Nancy Wheeler,” you answer without missing a beat. “Pretty girls.”

“Well, I think you’re very pretty—”

“Not like her,” you interject with a foreign firmness that Steve hasn’t seen from you until now. You’re still smiling at him, though, still kind but looking like you don’t believe him. Like you think this must be some kind of sick joke that he’s taking too far.

You can entertain Steve. You like Steve. Mostly because he’s totally different from the douchebag you remember him being — the douchebag you were expecting him to be. 

You find that he’s terribly clumsy and not overtly good with words. He says dumb jokes that don’t come out right and smiles in relief when they make you laugh anyway. He’s soft like peach fuzz or a fluffy cloud, mushy like warm chocolatey gooey goodness, and not at all like you remember him.

But then he does this. He morphs into something else, changes shape right in front of you. He smiles at you with little of his dumbassery behind it — all smirks and faux longing gazes with the intent of making you swoon at his feet. He grins down at you and all you see is the teenage boy who would’ve never looked at you that way four years ago. Hell, not even one. 

It reminds you of who he is, who he used to be, and who you are now. 

You haven’t changed so much since high school. You’ve matured a little, sure, but there was never an asshole exterior that you felt the need to outgrow. You’re still loud at times, unaware and ignorant of the world around you. You still play lightsabers outside Eddie’s trailer in between lengthy Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. You still pretend like the lingering glares from all the people you used to know don’t bother you. 

They do, though. They always have.

You look at Steve and you see this butterfly — someone made of rainbow colors and mostly mature. He’s growing, and you’re stuck in the same cocoon you’ve been wrapped in since freshman year, still fumbling around and trying to figure out where you fit.

He’ll always be the pretty butterfly he always was, with his pretty little iridescent wings that catch the light and all the attention. He’ll feed off the applause he gets while you’re sitting on the sidelines. The girl who’s destined to stay bundled in her cocoon forever only hears all of his praise — never watches, never receives.

“You and I are completely different people, Steve Harrington,” you declare with a grin that tells him you’ve already made up your mind.

The boy doesn’t get it, though, why you seem so upset by the idea. Him and Robin were completely different people. Him and Dustin were, too. The two people he adored — tolerated — most in the entire world weren’t a single thing like him, and it was better that way.

You don’t seem to share a similar philosophy, though. You take a drag from your mostly gone cigarette and mourn what could have been; if only he had been the town freak or you had been born the pretty girl next door.

“That doesn’t have to be such a bad thing—”

He’s abruptly cut off by the sound of muffled rock music and the bright yellow headlights of Eddie Munson’s van. The two of you shield your eyes when he whips into the desolate parking lot and parks in front of you. The sudden intrusion feels like being blinding like the sun after you’ve found such comfort within each other in the dead of night.

The stifled Def Leppard song — or maybe Poison, Steve can never quite tell the difference — is brought to a sharp halt when the engine shuts off. The headlights dim. The metallic slam of the driver’s side door sounds so much louder in the darkness.

Eddie rounds the front of his van and eyes the two of you rather suspiciously. The boy inhales deeply, puffing out his chest and splaying his hands on his hips. “…What’s going on here?” he squints at you.

You give him a terribly manufactured sunshine smile and bat your lashes his way, like you’re pretending to be un-innocent. “Nothing…” you sing-song.

Eddie rolls his eyes at you, then turns his attention to Steve. They’re not really strangers anymore, but he still feels the need to treat him like an outsider anyway.

“Harrington,” he says in the place of any real greeting. “Don’t you have other shit to do? Like, I don’t know, a shift as the mannequin at the GAP or something?”

Steve can’t find it in himself to get self-conscious about his fitted-sweatshirt, khaki-slack combo when the insult comes from a guy in a decade-old leather jacket, unwashed t-shirt, and ripped jeans.

“Very funny,” the brunette monotones. 

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” you ask when you turn and walk backwards towards Eddie, like there’s a gravitational pull dragging you to him.

You say it to be polite mostly, but you’re hoping for an affirmative — a promise that you’ll have another night like this one, where he sees you just to be seeing you. Hell, you’ll even take a nod if that’s all he’ll give you. And when he does, he gives you a tiny smile that almost makes you trip over yourself.

Fuck, you think to yourself, like your brain is talking to your heart. We just agreed not to do that.

Before you get in the van, you walk by Eddie and bring your cigarette up to his mouth. You coax the stick between his lips with your pointer and middle finger, opting to let him take the last couple of hits because he never turns down a free smoke.

The passenger door shuts once you’re tucked into the seat of it. The sound it makes punctuates your absence. Steve feels all of its emptiness.

He eyes Eddie from the distance, immediately noticing the darkened skepticism dancing in his dark eyes. 

The boy’s always felt the need to protect you. When the entire town got spooked about stories of some satanic panic and started treating you like monsters, he wanted to shield you from the boogeyman everyone turned into. 

Steve wasn’t one of them, the bad men. But Eddie loves you and it’s made him doubtful.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Steve feels the need to say, as though he’d been caught with his pants down and not just sharing an innocent cigarette with a friend.

Eddie takes the final few puffs of it and exhales rather dramatically, lips pursing to blow it in his direction though it’s too far away to hit him. The boy throws the filter to the concrete and extinguishes the ashes with the toe of his dirty sneakers. 

He waits until the white smoke has fully dissipated to speak.

“Damn right, it isn’t.”

That’s all he says. He doesn’t even look at Steve when he says it, or when he rounds the van and hops into the driver’s seat next to you. Steve squints when the too bright headlights come alive again in time with the roaring engine and dated rock music. His tires screech when he speeds out of the back parking lot. 

The tin can he drives nearly tips over when he turns too sharply onto Main Street.

Steve doesn’t get a chance to get a good look at you before you’re gone completely. It makes him all boyishly upset, knowing the hours without you will be most agonizing, but the empty feeling is eclipsed by the warm relief of not getting clock cleaned by Eddie Munson.

Damn right, it isn’t. Four words. That’s all he gets. But they’re daunting and coated with a lingering foreboding that feels almost like a threat.

So, by all accounts, Steve probably should’ve known there was no way Munson was ever going to back down that easily.

Eddie comes back the next day, a thundering storm cloud of the boy he usually is, head wild with curly hair and a million thoughts. 

The door dings far too gently for such an aggressive arrival. Metal bangs against metal as the handle collides with the window pane. He stomps to the counter in several quick strides, dark eyes darting around the half-empty store — obviously searching for something.

Robin, manning the front counter, is entirely unable to be threatened by him. The all black, chunky metal rings, and crazy hair stopped being so intimidating when she found out you called him Eddie Spaghetti. Now, it’s all she can think about when she sees him. 

Even as he stands ahead of her, obviously upset, all she sees is a very cartoonishly angry Eddie Spaghetti, and it takes everything in her not to laugh.

“Where’s Steve?” the boy finally wonders when he realizes the boy’s not in the front.

“Uh, he’s in the back, I think. Why?”

Eddie doesn’t humor her with an answer. He just storms past the counter and makes a b-line for the break room.

Robin watches him over her shoulder. “You’re not supposed to go back there!” she half-heartedly shouts, but makes no further effort to stop him from doing so.

He finds Steve working beneath the dim yellow light of the back room. There’s a warmed-up container of leftovers on the small round table on one side of the room and a stack of unorganized tapes on the counter on the other. Steve multitasks between both and hums something summery under his breath — The Beach Boys, maybe.

He’s too distracted to notice Eddie’s abrupt appearance. It’s the subtle click of the shut door that gets his attention.

Steve’s confused at first. His head snaps over his shoulder like a ghost must’ve closed the door on him. He realizes that it’s just Eddie, and he’s so innocently relieved that it’s almost humorous, then confused all over again. His brows pinch together and through the chicken tender jutting out his check, he mumbles: “You’re not supposed to be back here—”

“Yeah, I got that part,” Eddie interrupts in a monotone.

He swallows. It’s as thick as the tension that settles between the two of them, made heavier by the lengthy silence. He crosses his arms over his chest, stands up a little straighter, and bares his neck when he lifts his chin. “I want you to leave her alone.”

Steve scoffs and chews through his mouthful. “Leave who alone?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Eddie squints with an unusual sort of seriousness. “I don’t want you messing around with her anymore, man. I’m, fucking— I’m so fucking serious right now.”

The clarification makes Steve laugh. He shakes his head and goes back to piling the myriad of tapes into organized stacks on the counter. “We were just talking, Eddie. I don’t need the lecture, okay?”

“We both know it’s never just talking with you.”

“What? Are you in love with her or something?” he retorts, trying to make a joke of it.

Eddie, for the first time in his life, isn’t amused. “Oh, god, get over yourself, dude. I know what kinda guy you are, alright? I’m not gonna let you hurt her.”

His words hit Steve like a pot of boiling water. It prickles his skin, leaving blisters and burning red blotches in its wake. He’s all but on fire with his anger, less offended by the accusation than by the person it comes from.

Steve and Eddie aren’t friends by any means. They’re just two guys with shared custody of a bunch of teenagers, bonded in their want to keep them all safe. But through their lighthearted animosity, is a sort of understanding: neither of them are the assholes the entire town claims them to be. Eddie isn’t apart of some satanic cult. Steve isn’t a douchebag that uses women as accessories. And that’s just a silent agreement they’ve both come to on their own terms. 

But now here they are, talking like it’s 1984 all over again and they’re strangers who hate each other’s guts.

“No. I’m not gonna hurt her. Because we’re just friends, Eddie.”

The boy just shakes his head. He scrunches his nose like he’s wincing, then laughs — a big, dramatic laugh that fills the tiny break room. He begins to pace, waving an accusatory ringed finger Steve’s way. “No, see… That’s the thing. I don’t think King Steve is capable of being ‘just friends’ with a pretty girl.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a heavy huff. He comes to the conclusion that Eddie’s just projecting and that there’s no use in arguing his case. He shoves a black VHS tape into its designated sleeve and slots it in with the rest of them, muttering under his breath, “I’m not King Steve anymore…”

“What?”

“I said, I’m not King Steve anymore!” he yells, a bit louder than he intended to.

He drives a tape onto the pile with an unexpected aggression. It hits the wall with a resounding thud. His arms flail wildly at his sides when he turns to face Eddie again. “God, you guys act like people can’t change! I’m not the asshole I used to be, alright? Jeez…”

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in the place of any real reply. Deep down, he knows all that. He knows it’s all true because he would’ve never befriended him otherwise. Steve Harrington — the king, the rich kid, the douchebag — turned out to be a pretty damn good guy. 

And maybe if Eddie didn’t love you so much, he’d be able to wrap his head around all that.

But does. So he can’t.

He saw you two together the night before, sharing a cigarette behind The Groove — albeit a little too close for his liking — and suddenly, it was junior year all over again.

You’re stressed out about the ACT and college acceptance rates, none of your clothes quite fit you, and you’re trying out bold things with your makeup that don’t quite fit you either. You grin wildly up at Eddie through the vibrant lipstick smeared on your lips, laughing at his half-hearted attempt to cheer you up. 

And Steve is a senior, standing on the other side of the hallway — with his pretty clothes and prettier hair — and he lets all of his friends laugh at you. They make fun of your un-styled hair and the way your shirt makes your boobs look, and Steve doesn’t find any of it particularly funny but he lets them mock you anyway.

Eddie sees you together and forgets about the man Steve is now. All he sees is a boy who never stuck up for you, for either of you, who let his best friends make your lives hell because his reputation mattered more.

And it wasn’t like it was his job to defend you, because it wasn’t. Not really. It’s just that you would’ve done it for him, if the roles were reversed. Eddie, too. Neither of you would’ve let a lamb be led to the slaughter quite like that. It was the Hellfire motto, after all — to protect the little sheep from the creeping wolves.

That’s where the difference lies. It’s where the mistrust settles deep and where the root of all of Eddie’s worries lingers.

But Steve has done more to prove himself than Eddie likes to give him credit for. 

He takes care of a bunch of kids like it’s his job. He runs Robin to and from school most days out of the week, on time each morning — which, for a guy who showed up late every day for four years, was definitely saying something. He even comes to Eddie’s shows when he’s not too busy working the graveyard shift, never minding that he sticks out in his collared shirt and slacks — a pretty boy amidst a crowd of freaks.

Fuck. Steve Harrington was a pretty alright dude.

But you’re better than alright. You’re better than good. Better than perfect. 

If you got your heart broken, Eddie thinks he’d feel all of it times a thousand.

Steve’s been through his own kind of heartbreak, though. He’s slapped a bandaid over his own bleeding heart, and it’s made him soft. The good kind of soft — the kind where he sees a bug on its back and has to flip it over because it hurts too much to let it suffer. Eddie knows he’ll be that kind to you. Kinder, even.

“Yeah, you better hope so, Harrington,” the boy concludes with a slow nod of his wild head. He steals a chicken tender from the styrofoam box it sits in, like it’s some kind of power move, and waves it at him like a condemnatory point. “I hear you do anything — anything — to her… And your ass is grass.”

Eddie takes a hearty bite from the strip, then tosses it back into the container again. He spins on the ragged heel of his sneaker and stalks out of the break room, punctuating his absence with the slam of the door. The ancient thing gets lodged and doesn’t quite shut all the way, so he has to double back and shut it fully.

Steve is left dumbfounded, in more ways than one.

“…He just ate my chicken,” he mumbles to himself with a frown settled deep between his brows. But there’s a lingering tension in Eddie’s storming out — a tangible fog within his words that settles something heavy in the Family Video breakroom that doubles as storage. 

It feels almost like a blessing.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Won't escape my attention...

The more time you spend with Steve, the more confident you get. 

You visit him at work more often, caring less and less about bothering anybody when you realize they all wanted you there. You let yourself ramble in front of him, too, not stopping yourself nearly as often as you used to. Steve guesses you started to believe him somewhere around the millionth time he promised he liked hearing you talk.

You turn to glitter in his presence, becoming more unapologetically yourself and glowing with it — with all the things that used to make you insecure, things that King Steve would’ve made fun of you for some time ago. Everything you were scared made you too different, is why he liked you in the first place.

And Steve gets to watch it all play out right before his eyes. You inch slowly out of the protective shell you’ve built around yourself and bloom like springtime flowers. He’s grateful he gets to witness it, even more that you feel comfortable enough to do it all in front of him.

You’re hardly as timid as you usually are when you saunter into Family Video. Rather than tiptoeing in and apologizing for intruding, you burst through the front door with a beam and a high-pitched squeal. You’re as bright as every star in the galaxy combined; even dressed head-to-toe in black, you’re more blinding than the sun. 

Eddie’s leather jacket, either stolen or unenthusiastically lent from the boy himself, swallows your upper half. You wear a piece of Metallica merchandise beneath it. The thing is cut up to your ribcage. The jagged edges in the fabric, likely from a dull pair of kitchen scissors, tells him the chop was intentional.

A leather skirt clings effortlessly onto you, revealing the pudge of your stomach and the curves of your hips. The thing is donned with two spiked belts and several chains hanging loosely at your waist.

Steve is dozing at the counter with his chin propped on his first when you walk in. He’s half-asleep until he sees you. The shot of espresso that walks in makes him instantly forget how tired he is.

“Guess what?” you ask with wide, sparkling eyes as you skip to the counter with your hands behind your back.

Steve always hated that question. Usually, it came from Dustin or Robin — or, god forbid, both of them — followed by a “No, seriously. Guess.” It left him with no choice but to humor them until they ultimately caved and told him something he couldn’t have guessed in a million years.

He isn’t so annoyed now, though. In fact, he smiles. “What?” he replies.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, as though in a futile attempt to conceal the wide grin on your face, and take your hands from behind your back. You flash him the cassette tape you hold in the palm of them, a blue and yellow thing with the angled Def Leppard logo printed on the cover.

“No way!” Steve finds himself exclaiming like he’s the number one fan of the rock and roll band. He isn’t; never has been, really. But he is a fan of you. All of his excitement, all of his bright and shining smiles — they’re all for you.

“They came in last night— when I was off, of course— and I opened this morning and there was a whole damn tower of these tapes! I’m the one who does the tape towers, okay? Plus, I’ve been doggin’ my manager for weeks about the things, so I can’t believe they came in and no one told me, you know?”

Steve gets lost in your rambling right along with you, nodding because he never wants you to stop talking. His twinkling gaze follows you back and forth as you pace in front of the counter. You gesticulate wildly with your hands, nearly elbowing a customer when they get too close to the line of fire.

“And she was all like ‘I can’t control when they come in,’ And I was like ‘well, you can’t control when I come in either, I’ll be taking a long lunch now, thank you’—” you recount, albeit at a slightly louder volume that shocks anyone who doesn’t know you. People shoot you lingering side eyes from over the aisles.

Steve doesn’t care. He’s even happier that you don’t seem to either. You feel comfortable enough with him now to stop caring about the rest. When you stop yourself, you do it because you’ve said everything you need to say, not because you feel like you’ve annoyed him in some way. 

“Anyway,” you conclude with a sigh. “I wanted to run it to you personally because, besides Eddie, you’re the only person I know who cares as much as I do.”

You smile sweetly at him, peering at him through your lashes, so suddenly timid — no longer the boisterous girl lighting up the whole room. Steve notices that you do that a lot, go from loud and sunny to shy and glimmering. Eddie does it too, sometimes, but it’s not nearly as cute.

“My wallet’s in my locker,” he tells you when you hand him the tape. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder with his free hand. “Let me go grab it. I’ll be, like, two seconds—”

You reach over the counter and take him by the arm, wrapping chipped maroon nails around the crook of his elbow to keep him from straying too far. Shock coats his features at the suddenness of your touch and the way it makes him buzz.

You scoff. “Are you serious? I’m not gonna make you pay, you weirdo.”

“No?”

“Of course not! It’s a gift.”

“Well, gee, Punchy. Considered me flattered,” he concedes with a faltering smile.

You laugh at his half-hearted attempt to be charming.

He rests his crossed arms on the counter and leans over the top of it in an effort to be the slightest bit closer to you. He gazes up at you with honey eyes and raised brows and a big, dumb smile. “And, you know, flattery... it goes a long way with me.”

You arch an un-manicured brow at him. “Does it, now?”

“Yep. So much so, I’m willing to break a few rules and let you pick out a couple of movies. On the house.”

It’s dumb and it’s sweet and so terribly innocent. He wants to give you so much than that but he’s got about eighteen dollars to his name, so all he can do is offer you a few measly VHS tapes. It has you beaming like he just offered you the world.

“Steve Harrington,” you scold playfully. “I didn’t know you were so naughty.”

He falters. His resolve slips and, for no more than half a second, his brain forgets how to work. 

He’s not quite sure how you manage to do that to him all the damn time. You make his brain shortcircuit and his belly quiver and his vision swim. He’s known you for a while now, long enough that the lovesickness should’ve well worn off.

Steve’s worried that there’s no cure for you, that he’s in it for the long haul now — upset stomachs, heart palpitations, and all.

“Well, I’m full of surprises,” he shrugs and sways on his feet. “What’s your poison, Punchy? Molly Ringwald? Robert Downey Jr.? The John Hughes type?”

You can tell he’s joking. You squint over at him and rest your elbows on the counter top your face-to-face. 

The wintergreen mint on his breath makes your head swim. 

Your rouge-tined lips are so close he can taste them — he wants to, desperately so. 

You don’t miss the way his gaze flits to your mouth, lingering there for no longer than a blink.

“Try Night of the Living Dead,” you challenge. 

“That is so dreadfully on brand for you,” he manages to reply without much stuttering. He’s surprised he’s able to get any words out at all, with the way his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“I’m nothing if not predictable.”

Steve doesn’t respond as he leaves the counter to get what you asked for. Silence is easier than saying that you’re the most surprising thing he’s ever met in his life.

When he returns, he brings the entire film franchise with him. All three movies are stacked in his arms and he scans the backs of them, hoping Keith won’t notice that they’re being rented free of charge.

“Have you ever seen them?” you wonder.

He shakes his head. “No. I saw one of them at a drive-in a long time ago, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention, if you know what I mean—” he answers with a soft laugh, quick to cut himself off. It was supposed to be a dumb joke, but both of you know what he was insinuating and it makes everything awkward. 

Robin would’ve slapped him on the back of the head if she were around to hear it. 

He would’ve deserved it.

“Well, you missed out,” you scold, not quite meeting his gaze. “They’re actually pretty good.”

“I’ll try and watch ‘em sometime then.”

“Tonight?” you offer suddenly.

Steve furrows his brows. “…Huh?”

“I mean, like— I don’t know… I thought maybe we could watch them tonight,” you stammer with your eyes turned down toward the counter, where you draw invisible patterns onto the granite with the tip of your finger. “Like, together… if you want.”

Steve is momentarily speechless. He’s spent weeks plotting how he was going to ask you out. It would come to him in waves. He’d feel like he’d concocted the most perfect, foolproof plan right before realizing there was no way in hell he could ever go through with it — all in the same fleeting thought. 

But here you are, biting the bullet for the both of you. 

He’s grateful. He thinks he’s dreaming.

“That sounds…” Steve trails off with the mindless nod of his head. “Yeah. No. Totally. That sounds… really cool.”

A wide smile pulls at the edges of your lips. You purse your mouth to the side in attempts to conceal it. “Cool,” you murmur all cool-ly, like his affirmation isn’t heaven to your ears.

“Uh, not to sound like a total douchebag or whatever, but my dad— he’s got this theater room and everything, and my parents are almost never home,” Steve rambles as he puts all three movies into a paper bag. Then his eyes go wide and his face glows cherry red. “Not like that! I didn’t mean it like— That sounded really weird… I’m sorry—”

You giggle at him, at the way he can pretend to be so suave, and then reveal all the marshmallow fluff he tries to keep hidden a moment later. “It’s okay, Steve. I got what you meant.”

He writes his address on a yellow sticky note with the Family Video logo printed in green at the very top. His handwriting is boyish and sloppy, the sign of a boy who never did care much about school. Some letters are connected, others far apart; some written too big, while others are too small. You find it endearing, but Steve knows it’s just because his hand was shaking something fierce.

He leaves his number written at the very bottom. Just for good measure.

“No funny business, alright, Harrington?” you joke, waving a ringed finger at him as you walk backward out of the store, heading back to your own job.

Steve bites back a smile. Once upon a time, he was all funny business. No girl was ever going to invite King Steve over and not expect some heavy petting. And he wants so badly to kiss you — fuck, he wants to kiss you all the time — but the want to spend innocent time with you eclipses all of those boyish feelings.

He yearns to be close to you. Like magnets. Or a moon and the ocean’s tide.

“No funny business,” he promises.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You keep your distance with a system of touch.

It isn’t until you arrive at the front gates of the Harrington home you realize you’ve never been in the suburbs of Hawkins before.

You grew up on the very outskirts of town, where there were more trees than people or houses. The block was half rundown already and horribly secluded. The only interesting thing about it was the winding trail through the woods that led to the anterior of Forest Hills trailer park.

That’s where you spent the bulk of your time, practically living with Eddie and Wayne in their one-bedroom trailer, until you felt guilty enough to go back home for a day or two. Your parents would inevitably remind you why you ran off in the first place, and then the cycle would start all over again.

It was all just far enough away from Hawkins that you could pretend like the town’s bullshit didn’t exist. The freak from the wrong side of the tracks didn’t belong on Maple Street or Fairview Road or Laurel Avenue. That was for people who could afford new shoes every school year, who could go clothes shopping and not feel guilty about cutting into their food money, who were set up with trust funds before they were even born.

But here you are now, on Fairview Road, seven o’clock sharp, and standing in front of the biggest house you’d ever seen. 

You ring the doorbell and flinch when it’s louder than expected. The chime is light and jaunty. You wonder if it’s been programmed for the change in season.

Steve answers no more than a couple seconds later. He swings both French doors open, arms spreading wide like the smile on his face.

He’s traded in his slacks for comfier jeans and his vest for a form-fitting sweatshirt he’s bunched at the elbows. You realize, then, that you’ve never seen him without the forest green Family Video jacket. It makes him look naked, almost, like a totally different person — no longer the dork who works a measly nine-to-five with his best friend and visits the freak next door on the off chance his manager won’t dock his pay for it.

The vest had humbled him to a certain extent. Now he just looks cool. Like the boy people would either praise or avoid like the plague, for fear of getting in King Steve’s path — just a little bit more mature looking now, with his chiseled jaw and scruffy chin.

It makes you feel a little stupid from where you stand on the porch ahead of him, wearing the same thing he’d seen you in earlier that day. He’s got no idea you spent the past couple of hours agonizing over what to wear. For the sake of not seeming crazy overzealous, you opted not to dress up. Now you’re scared he thinks you just didn’t care enough to.

But you do care. So goddamn much that’s it scary. 

You never had to worry about what you wore or what you looked like before you left the house, about what you had too much of and what you lacked. Now, it’s all you can think about.

If Steve notices anything at all, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps on smiling at you, too happy to see you to care about what you’re wearing. He’s just glad that you showed up.

Truth be told, he had a six-pack and Robin’s number on speed dial on the off chance you canceled on him. He was preparing himself to wallow in self-pity and spend the rest of the night ranting to his best friend about the bleeding heart he had for you. Because, as far as he was concerned, you were far too good to be true. 

You were beautiful and funny and kind and perfect. You treat him like you’ve known him for years, like he didn’t spend so many of them avoiding you in attempts to keep some measly title that didn’t mean shit. You were too perfect. Sometimes, Steve gets scared that he just made you up.

But whether you’re a dream come true or the real thing, you’re standing on his front porch anyway, with a smile and a bottle of grocery store wine. 

He saves the beer in his fridge and the wallowing for another day. 

Steve escorts you through his lavish living room and to the downstairs area that’s got a movie screen hanging on the walls and a couple of leather couches sitting in front of it. The coffee table in front of them holds a myriad of glass bowls — popcorn, various candies, and more popcorn.

“You planning on throwin’ a party down here, Harrington?” you tease with a soft chuckle, trying to conceal how your heart’s about to burst at the mere sight of it all.

“Well, I just— I didn’t know what you liked, and I didn’t— I wanted to make sure you had something to eat, you know,” the boy stammers out. He brings the palm of his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “So I just… I got… everything.”

“It’s a good thing a like everything then, huh?” you smile at him as you pluck a Red Vine from its dedicated bowl. You rip off an inch or two with your teeth and then talk as you chew: “I hope you’re prepared for all of this shit get eaten, Harrington. I can get quite ravenous.”

Steve nods to himself and tries not to smile too big. “Sounds entertaining… Maybe I’ll just watch you instead of the movie.”

It was supposed to be a joke. 

But then you settled down next to him on the couch, keeping a respectful distance but sharing the same fuzzy blanket, and he has to physically force himself to drag his gaze away from you. 

He was right about what he said before, you were far more entertaining than the black and white film projected ahead of him — grabbing handfuls of popcorn at a time and quoting the movie through the mouthful. 

It’s a tad bit barbaric, the faintest bit off-putting, and otherworldly levels of endearing. It leaves him virtually unable to take his eyes off of you. 

He didn’t think you could get more beautiful, but you keep on proving him wrong. 

He’s starting to realize he doesn’t know shit.

You’re slowly coming to the same understanding.

You’ve heard stories about Steve. Usually from gossiping cheerleaders standing in circles at their lockers or whispering in the back of a classroom. Doomed as the freak and all but banished from the inner society of Hawkins High, you became an observer. You were so invisible that people sometimes didn’t realize they were talking right over you, sharing secrets they wouldn’t want someone else to get a hold of. 

But apparently you were the exception. Because you weren’t a someone to them.

They talked about how kind he was, how well endowed, how they were meant to go on some stupid date but missed their reservation because Steve got a little too handsy beforehand, and how they spent the rest of the night with their hands shoved down each other’s pants at Lover’s Lake. 

You were seeing, firsthand, how much he’d changed. How he made his promise of no funny business and how he was sticking to it — no teasing you about the whole thing with a knowing smirk and flirtatious honey eyes, no urging to close this distance between you, no tiny touches on your arm or thigh in the hopes of heavier petting.

He spends the entirety of the first movie perfectly respectful. Just like you’d asked him to be. 

And it was nice, knowing that you weren’t wasting your evening with some asshole who was only spending time with you in the hopes of you putting out later. But it leaves you the faintest bit empty. Hungry. You long for his touch like a missed meal. Starving and feeling it all.

It’s not even heavy petting you want, you just want to feel him next to you — to press yourself into his side and to warm yourself with him like a blanket. 

But you weren’t a pretty cheerleader or a girl dripping in expensive clothes and daddy’s money. You were the weirdo, the freak, the loudmouth nerd, Punchy — all names you wore proudly, like lit-up signs or steel armor. 

Until now. 

Now you think if you weren’t Punchy, if were you someone different, then maybe he’d want to touch you more.

The first hour and thirty-seven minutes of your favorite movie are strangely agonizing. 

Your hands itch with the desire to touch the boy next to you, and they busy themselves with the bowls of candy and savory junk food splayed out on the table in front of you. It’s mindless more than it is anything. You’re absentminded binging does nothing more than half-distract you from the thoughts raging rivers in your skull.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it until your hand falls into an empty bowl of popcorn and finds nothing but kernels at the bottom of it. 

It makes Steve laugh, thinking you were just too into the movie to notice — having no idea it was him taking up all your brain power. 

He leaves to fix more snacks for you while you slip the second VHS into the movie player. He returns with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and two beers after the wine bottle has been sufficiently emptied. When he plops down next to you again, it’s in the same spot he’d been sitting in all night — a couple of excruciating inches away.

Under the guise of sharing the popcorn in his lap, you make the too bold decision to slither in at his side. It’s innocent at first — your thighs just barely graze and your elbows bump when you dip your hands into the bowl. And it’s still innocent some thirty minutes later, when you find yourself resting your head on his shoulder with your legs curled up behind you.

Steve tenses when he feels your temple pressed against him, but only for a moment before he relaxes again. It makes him all suddenly warm and self-aware of every movement he makes. He tries not to breathe too heavy or shift too often, for fear it might jostle you too much. He doesn’t want to stop feeling you against him like this, even if it’s got his skin prickling with a searing form of anxiety.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep,” he jokes.

“Of course not. It’s way too riveting,” you scoff, even though he can feel you cuddling further into him. Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt when you look up at him. He turns his head to peer down at you and his nose nearly grazes your forehead. 

He finds you with a certain glint in your eye. It’s borderline playful, like it so often is, but coated with a sweetness that drips over him like honey. “You like it so far?” you wonder.

“Yeah,” the boy nods quickly. He couldn’t tell you what had happened the past two-and-a-half films, but he could tell you how your jaw tenses when you chew and how your smile curls just before you laugh out loud and how your eyes widen every time you quote the movie. “It’s really good. I like it.”

You beam at him before turning back to the projector again. You shift to get more comfortable against him. “Good.” 

By the third movie, you’re somehow even closer.

Truth be told, Day of the Dead wasn’t your favorite in the trilogy, so it left your mind wandering to far off places — namely, the pretty boy sitting beside you. He goes to put the tape into the projector, feeling immediately cold without pressing into his side, and when he returns he tries his best not to beg you to cuddle against him again.

“My shoulder’s gettin’ real cold over here,” he tries to joke. 

You see right through his beckoning, though. It makes you happy to know he wants it just as much as you do. 

“Just say you wanna be next to me, Harrington,” you tease like you aren’t happily obliging him. You snuggle into his shoulder and rest your head against him while your arms curl around his bicep.

“I wanna be next to you,” he repeats, a playful smile on his lips though his gaze softens with sincerity. “Is that so bad?”

You shake your head against him in reply. Suddenly as mushy as the boy beside you, you turn to look up at him. “Not unless it’s bad that I wanna be next to you, too…”

“Nah. It’s not bad,” he assures in something short of a whisper. “Guess I’m just glad I’m not the only one that’s so far gone.”

He doesn’t elaborate on what he means by that. He doesn’t have to.

Perhaps it’s the admission that this boy is so far gone for you that gives you a sudden burst of confidence. Maybe it’s the comforting feeling of being seen, of knowing you’re no longer alone in your similar far gone-ness. Each feels like rays of sunshine to your skin and has you pressing your lips to his wanting ones without much thought. 

The plump pink of his mouth are magnets for yours. They meet and lock together with little effort, almost destined to do it. It’s a soft, meager, and lingering little peck that sucks you both in a little too easily. It’s hard to pull away from him, but when you do, your lips click in protest.

Then there’s a look, then a deafening silence that says more words than either of you were capable of forming in that moment. His amber eyes dart between both of yours, asking a question without saying a goddamn thing. One that you answer with your own softening gaze. 

And it’s almost better than the kiss itself, the swirling feeling in the pits of your stomach, the knowing of what’s about to happen.

A silent plea and a blink later and his lips are on yours again. 

It’s an awkward mess of yearning mouths and tangled limbs as the both of you fight to find purchase on one another. Your fingers knot in the collar of his sweatshirt, pulling him impossibly closer, while his grip the bare skin of your waist from where your shirt had ridden up. His touch makes you buzz, like a static shock or a bolt of lightning.

Steve makes several observations when he feels you melt into him like honey on toast. He notices how you press yourself into him, like you won’t be satisfied until you’ve swallowed him whole, and how it has you kissing him like you’re scared he’ll pull away — like you’ll open your eyes and he won’t be real. 

You’re as domineering against his mouth as you are in real life, still as all-consuming and overpowering as the girl he’s gotten so familiar with.

He doesn’t realize how you’ve settled so intently on top of him until his back meets the pillowy cushion of the leather couch. You don’t either, until he exhales a sharp gasp against your cupid’s bow. Then you part from him, for the first time in several minutes, breathing in the oxygen your lungs had just begun to scream for. 

Steve finds you with kiss-bitten lips and glassy eyes that look upon him with a softness that he didn’t know existed until now. He smirks with his own swollen and pinker mouth like he isn’t glowing red beneath you. 

“I thought you said no funny business,” he manages to tease through bated breaths.

You don’t bother to make up excuses for yourself. You’re already on top of him, all over him — you’ve already kissed him like you would’ve died if you hadn’t. Now, you’re straddling him, caging him between your legs and under your torso. You’ve settled on top of him with a comforting weightiness, like you’re building a home in the familiarity you’ve sought in him.

“I lied,” you mutter with a lazy shrug. A sly smile pulls slowly at your lips until you’re all but beaming sunbeams down at him. He revels in your warmth. “’S not my fault you’re so damn cute.”

It’s easier to blame it on him for all the reasons you’re attached to him like a magnet to his metal, your moth to his flame. You part his lips with your mouth, rut your tongue against his own, reveling in the foreign familiarity of it all, and then blame him for the way you can’t seem to stop any of it.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though. The way his hands find purchase on your hips, petting the warmed skin there and sometimes squeezing to pull you further down onto him, tells you that he has a similar yearning to melt with you. He lets you kiss him all slow, allows you to taste all of him, and doesn’t rush you in your process. It’s comforting, tender. Free.

He’s not used to being on his back like this. Usually, he’s the one taking control. It’s his mouth that does all the work. So, it’s strange to be under you and to have you above him. But it’s more pleasant in an even stranger way not to be rushed — not to have to do all the work. His mouth opens so obediently for you and finds an effortless rhythm with your lips and your tongue. 

It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done in his life, kissing you. 

He delights in every ounce of the warmth and unfamiliarity you press to his mouth, and tries to shove down feelings of unworthiness that simmer in his chest while you do so.

You don’t part until your mouths are numb and tingling with it. 

Your lips are more vibrant in their color, aflame and swollen from being so ardently kissed and sucked and bitten. Neither of you mind making out like a couple of teenagers. It’s comforting to know that things won’t go further than a couple soft touches on burning skin. It was never supposed to be anything more than that, anyway. It was just about being close to each other.

You’ve almost succeeded in your effort to melt into the boy beneath you, when you hear the distant sound of a door opening and closing again. Muffled voices follow — unknown to you but obviously familiar to him. 

You part from him without thinking, like you’re a couple of kids again who’ll get in trouble if your parents ever found out what you were doing down here. Steve groans at the loss of you and in annoyance at the sound of his parents. His heavy eyes fall shut and his head leans back to the couch cushions as he fights to swallow down all of his anger.

His parents never really come around these days. They’ve got a bigger home in the city, closer to his dad’s work, and they choose to stay there most days of the week — month. 

They used to make excuses for why they left their only son behind. It’s five minutes from your dad’s firm. There’s more opportunity for your mom’s real estate business. Oh, don’t be so selfish, Steven, you’ll finally have the place to yourself. It’s a win-win for all of us.

Steve didn’t want their excuses. It was actually easier with them gone. 

But they come around every now and again, whenever it’s most convenient for them, and treat their arrival like something that needs to be celebrated. Like they aren’t supposed to be with their child in the fucking first place. And they somehow manage to pick the most inconvenient times for him, like they know he’s in a bind and want to see him struggle to get out of it.

Usually, it’s when he’s in between paychecks — when they want to take him out to some fancy dinner he could barely afford anyway, but especially when he’s hardly making it until payday. Now, it’s when he’s got the prettiest girl he’s ever seen on top of him, and he’s all hot and half-hard. Steve doesn’t want to let them ruin the moment, as good as they are at it.

“It’s okay. They won’t come in here,” he assures when he feels you tense at the unexpected company. “My mom will go to the bedroom and my dad will go to his office. We’re good, I promise.”

You figure he’s right. The voices grow more and more distant. Heeled shoes click up and up the stairs while heavy stomps head the opposite way. But you’ve already been so woefully knocked out of your stupor that you’re scared it’s too late.

Your lips are numb and the credits are rolling and you’re on top of this beautiful boy and you have no idea how you got there.

It’s almost frightening, the way Steve had consumed you mind, body, and soul by just existing next to you. You become dreadfully hyperaware of the whole thing — of who you are, who he is, and what you’re doing. You lose all your softness and turn to ice, hardening and shrinking back into yourself.

“I should—” you start before clearing your throat when the words come out heavier than expected. “I should head out anyway.”

“Oh,” is all Steve can say. “Right.”

You stare down at him, chest still pressed against his, nose nearly touching the tip of his own. “I just— I have to open tomorrow and everything, so—”

“No. Yeah. Yeah, I— I get it.”

You make tricky work of untangling yourselves.

His legs twist with yours when you both try to rise from the couch at the same time. Then your ring gets stuck in the fabric of his shirt, but not before his belt buckle gets somehow caught in yours. It’s like fate is protesting the imminent parting, but neither of you are paying attention to the signs.

He walks you to your car and chuckles under his breath as you scurry to the front door. 

You’re not-so-distantly terrified of running into his parents. They probably wouldn’t mind that he’s sneaking around with a girl, surely that they’re used to, but you’re almost certain they’re not used to girls like you. Girls with wild hair and leather skirts and chunky boots and too bold makeup. 

You’re not the girl next door. You’re the girl parents warn their sons about. “Leave that girl alone,” they say. “She’s nothing but trouble.”

You tell him all of this on the short trek to your half-broken-down car when you catch him laughing at you about the whole thing. You say it in jest, lighthearted and trying to make a joke of it. But there’s an underlying melancholia to your tone that reveals every truth you’re trying to evade.

“They don’t care enough about me to give a shit about a girl I’m with, I promise,” he confesses with a laugh that sounds more like a sad scoff than anything else. His chocolate eyes turn gold beneath the yellow street light. He smirks at you. “Besides, I don’t know if I told you this or not, but my middle name is actually trouble, so… I think we might be a match made in heaven.”

You roll your eyes at his attempts to flirt with you, though his lack of finesse makes you smile. “You’re an idiot, Steve Actually Trouble Harrington.”

“You really know how to say goodbye, don’t ya?” he grins when you reach the curb where your tin can car sits. 

“Yeah, I’m pro,” you shrug with a teasing glint in your eye, then you beam. “I’ll see you around, ‘kay?”

“Totally,” he nods, suddenly forlorn at having to leave you like he hadn’t just spent the past four hours with you.

Themetallic click of your car door opening sounds much louder in the emptiness of the suburbs. You glance at the boy right before you sink into the driver’s seat, feeling your heart swell with something short of yearning — anticipation. 

You weren’t actually a professional at saying goodbye, you find, because you’re realizing how hard it is to leave him.

“Steve!” he hears you shout from across the lawn when he’s halfway up the drive. 

He turns around, expecting to hear you tease him some more or tell him you were having car troubles. Neither would’ve shocked him. You’ve got a smart mouth and a shittier car. But you keep on surprising him, all but launching yourself into him before kissing him harder than he’s ever been kissed before.

Steve tenses against you at first, then relaxes again in record time. He sighs in the comfort of having your body pressed so intently into his and your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him somehow closer. 

You feel the breath of his exhale fan against your cupid’s bow. It makes you smile, and he feels the expression contort against his lips. His hands rise to the widest part of your hips without thinking. It’s all muscle memory now.

And even though he’s spent the better part of an hour kissing you, this one is so obviously different. This wasn’t just to pass the time. This was more than just to feel him — it was to tell him something. He hears every word you don’t say, but rather press like a stamp to his mouth.

He’s breathless when you pull away. You meet his flushed face with a mischievous grin.

“What was that for?” he wonders breathlessly, but doesn’t waver with his hold on you. He quickly notices that yours doesn’t either.

You shrug in response. “‘Cause you’re pretty.”

“Yeah, well…” he tries to play off like he’s not blushing like crazy. “You’re pretty too.”

Your beam ebbs into a teasing, tightlipped smirk. “Stop flirting with me, Steve Harrington.”

You shove him away with a rougher hand than you realize before you walk away from him. Steve rubs at the ache in his chest with the palm of his hand.

Your playful teasing and your lingering kiss is the only thing Steve has to remember you by when you turn on your chunky heeled boot and head off down the driveway again. He’s frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you and reeling at how you manage to drive him crazy without trying.

Your eyes find him again just before you duck into your car, and you see him still looking at you — mouth agape and eyes wide like you’re some kind of rare find. You figure you must be, in some way. Girls like you aren’t supposed to like guys like him. Vice Versa. Tale as old as time.

The boy stays locked in his stupor until the sprinkles whir on. The spurts of freezing cold water spray all over him and his pretty hair and expensive sweatshirt and his vintage jeans. “Shit!” you hear him swear as he rushes for cover on his front porch. 

He’s quickly soaked and freezing cold, but he smiles anyway when he hears the sound of your giggling behind him. It’s as animated as your personality and spills from your mouth like so many rays of sunshine, just a little too loud for the quiet midnight suburbs. 

It’s perfect, he realizes. You’re perfect. 

[voidsentprinces]

Join FFXIV we got:

Fuckable Monster Gods, Yandere General, SUCH DEVASTATION, Malevolent Breadloaf, Hate Fuck Philosophy between Church's Money Illiterate Doomslayer and the Heretical Dragon fuckers, Bestest Boy, Butch Scholar with an axe, France with hot single elves, Lesbian Gunslingers, Manwhore of Astrology, his love rival and the asexual woman who has no clue, Inner Feral State, his legal partner and their adopted daughter, Murder Bimbo, his angry red head and their sadistic feral viceroy with her himbo henchman, Hopeless Romantic who gets bullied, his very heterosexual tribe of male only warriors, the apeshit warlock stealing his women while being transpiritual and a shepherd wife, frat boy emperor, Iroh Samurai and the sickest ninja woman ever, Your Own Personal Catboy, his eligible straightforward daughter who is also captain the guard, THE HIMBO FAMILY complete with bomb throwing cat girl, adoptive mechanical nonbinary child, and psychotic hard line temper mother, entire village of rabbit woman, the most love struck catboy outside the Crystarium and his religious group, an entire kingdom of nonbinary fae folk and their they/them King, the Ghosts of Christmas Past as well the Ghost of Christmas Present with his talking dog, THE TRUEST BESTEST BOY and his robot companion, the Dragon Father and his brood of angsty teenagers, Genocidal Tsundere Emperor, his grandson no-nonsense Emperor and the pretty boy handsome girl of ancient times, the hero worshiping companion of eld who doesn't remember you BUT YOU CAN FIX HIM!, a entire continent of nerds ripe for the punching, an entire continent of geeks ripe for picking on you and your companions including their leader SCIENCE WIFE, SUCH DEVASTATON's extended family who will remain perfect if you don't touch that fucking side quest, an entire moon of bunny people not to be confused with the village of rabbit women but while we're talking about rabbit people have this stoic and handy rabbit man and his VERY ENTHUSIASTIC TRANS LION FRIEND! Did we mention you get a punchy very enthusiastic woman clad in red? Drop by Ala Mhigo she is always happy to help you punch things! Also while you're there meet the main soldier you're deprogramming from the Garlean Cult he likes giving buuz to people and has this...Great Dane vibe, I don't know how else to describe it. Got a moment? Meet your adoptive family, a knife daughter and her hammer girlfriend, a sword daughter and her scholarly brother, an entire orphanage out of both Ul'dah AND Idyllshire, and a berb daughter who almost ended the entire universe because she COUDLNT STOP FEELING!!!!!!!!!! Also meet more monsters for you to fuck Flayed Demon, MUSCLE GODDESS, Cowabunga, grumpy fire man, and Knight in Shining Identity Theft, and their friend nonbinary lass who can kill AND EAT! There is, of course, also...adoptive fathers in partnership with you and knife daughter, wine aunt of a thousand Fire IVs, a cantankerous short lad, scholar woman who is getting into art, Tataru the Most Powerful and Important Character in the game and therefore the only one I shall refer to by name here, THE HORNIEST WOMAN IN ALL OF FICTION, two Roegadyn brothers, a fabulous elezen healer and her exasperated sister, the adoptive mother and legendary dancer AND bartender, an equally exasperated woman who just convinced her patriarch to retire from adventuring, a short Sultana, an oblivious Seedseer, and the greatest admiral to grace this franchise, General Father and his son from the Shire, the inventor with a heart of gold, his companions, their stern manager, and the gremlin man who is here to make the inventor eat his shirt while laughing. AND THATS JUST THE PEOPLE IN THE MAIN STORYLINE.

So join FFXIV today.

[pro-cycling-primers]

📊The Monuments📊

As promised in my introductory post, it's time to get Monumental...

What are they?

A mostly arbitrary classification of five of the oldest, longest, most prestigious and most difficult one-day races. It doesn't really mean anything beyond a higher UCI point earning but it's a handy starting point for the Classics (one-day races).

Milano-San Remo 🇮🇹 (mid-March)

The longest single race on the men's calendar, this gruelling ~300km outing regularly yields some of the most exciting racing of the season.

But only at the very end. It's an endurance test finishing with the final two climbs, the Cipressa and the Poggio, where the race-winning moves are often made.

Don't bother tuning in to MSR until they're at least on the Cipressa – about 20km from the finish. Outside of a favourite crashing, almost nothing that happens in the first six hours will matter toward the final result.

Expect: To be bored if you start watching early on, but fifteen minutes of absolutely electrifying racing after a long day out. Oftentimes an unexpected winner.

Ronde van Vlaanderen 🇧🇪 (late March/early April)

Spring is well and truly underway; it's time to head to Flanders!

The culmination of Belgian cycling's Holy Week, the Ronde combines cobbles with short, sharp climbs in the Flemish Ardennes for a brutal Sunday's racing. Every climb has a name and a history: the Oude Kwaremont, Paterberg, Koppenberg are some of the most iconic and decisive.

Expect: So many Vlaamse Leeuw flags the roadside looks like a daffodil field, aggressive and tactical racing, riders potentially having to dismount on the steepest of cobbled sections.

Paris-Roubaix 🇫🇷 (early April)

The only French Monument, Roubaix is affectionately known as l'Enfer du Nord/the Hell of the North. That's fitting for the conditions riders face: it's pancake-flat but the challenge lies in the bone-shaking cobbled secteurs (rated 1 to 5, 5 being the worst), usually totalling ~50km

The weather often comes into play, with wind and rain rendering the cobbles slippery and dangerous, shown on the 5-star Trouée d'Arenberg in 2021 (left). Finishing in the Velodrome André-Pétrieux (right), the winner even gets one of the cobbles as a trophy!

Expect: Pavé-induced punctures and other mechanicals, commentators debating the pros and cons of a wet Roubaix. A winner usually on the larger side of pro cyclists, as size = absolute power and more stability on the cobbles.

Liège-Bastogne-Liège 🇧🇪 (late April)

Rounding out the Ardennes end of the spring classics, LBL is the most climber-friendly of the Monuments, with enough hills to put many of the larger riders out of contention. First held in 1892, earning the race its nickname of La Doyenne, it continues to entertain to this day.

Don't let the lack of cobbles or inordinate length of the first three, LBL is still a brutal race of ~260km with 4,400m of climbing!

Expect: Hills. Hard, and plenty of them. Often better weather than the other three.

Il Lombardia 🇮🇹 (mid October)

Usually regarded as marking the end of the road cycling season proper, Lombardia favours punchy climbers as it meanders through Lombardy – another region steeped in cycling history.

It's a beautiful race, often taking in the shores of Lake Como while chasing up and down the foothills of the Alps. Autumnal conditions can affect the race with potential for slippery roads and chilly descents.

Expect: Assuming past performance predicts future results, Tadej Pogačar to win his fifth consecutive title, equalling Fausto Coppi's record. Beautiful helicopter shots of the landscape; it's not nicknamed the Race of the Falling Leaves for nothing.

See you in March for the last fifteen minutes of San Remo!

[alfgifu]

Fic analysis 8. Incandescent 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47237317

Archive warnings: Major Character Death

Word count: 4,413

Chapters: 1

First posted: 17th May 2023

Summary: 

Slowly, against the glutinous weight, Cliopher swallowed. This was not a dream. This was magic. This was - what he had been expecting, all along.

“Cliopher sayo Mdang, Secretary to the Offices of the Lords of State, Secretary to Artorin Damara, so-called Hands of the Emperor. You have broken the great taboo. You are summoned to account. Come with us.”

How and why this came about

The idea popped into my head during a discord chat.

I remember reading something by an author - Neil Gaiman I think - about the first time they read a story which ended badly for the narrator. About the realisation that this was a thing an author could do. And I remember myself reading a book when I was a teenager in which the good guys lose, and finding that similarly mind bending.

So, I thought, what if…?

And once the thought was there it was compelling. Cliopher is incredibly focused and holds his own life lightly against his goals. He expected to be executed for many things, including (at the start of HOTE) for inviting the emperor on holiday. If it happened quickly and secretly and he judged the politics intractable, he would just go with it.

I dropped a couple of paras into the discord channel and then went to take the kids to their swimming lessons and frantically tapped out the rest in the pool cafe.

When I posted it that evening someone replied, in tones of (mock, I hope) reproach, that I had recently said I was cuddly. I had neglected to mention (possibly didn’t even know at the time) that I was also a peddler of deep pits of despair.

What worked and what didn’t

Writing fast and in the flow and directly from the feels worked really well for pace and grip. It was less good for my control of my impulse to scatter dashes like pixie dust in every paragraph. I’ve been going back and forth on formatting for some of these things but in general I feel like there’s something in here about the text standing for itself and trying to use all punctuation more sparingly.

It worked really well to get into Cliopher’s head and follow his thoughts. Some of the worldbuilding that I threw in here on the fly came in handy in several other stories (the idea that the Ouranatha had their own enforcers who had shadow masks, for example, and the general concept of magic feeling like compressed air to someone who is magic-null).

I did start sketching out a sequel to this which is still there on my list of possible things to come back to, covering his Radiancy’s reaction from the pov of Cliopher’s deputy Kiri.

What I learned from writing it

I find it incredibly easy and satisfying to write very dark things. It’s entirely absorbing, it drives me forward, I really really like working out frustration and aggression and so on by inflicting horrors on fictional characters.

I was touched and surprised when it immediately sparked a ‘fix-it’ story where the emperor intervenes just in time to keep Cliopher alive. There’s a special joy in writing something that brings out a story from someone else, even if (perhaps especially if) they’re writing it directly to reverse what you’ve done. It reminds me of doodle games where each person tries to alternately threaten or rescue their little stick figure in what they add to the drawing.

Nevertheless, I hadn’t appreciated at first that others might find this more distressing than satisfying. I learned that readers could be affected strongly by this kind of punchy story and that the reactions would (entirely understandably) vary. Everyone was incredibly lovely about it but it definitely brought home the value of tags and warnings.

At the same time other authors in the fandom had been independently exploring similar themes and other ‘crimes’ fics were posted soon after. This coincided and may have inspired a rising tide of enthusiasm and creativity in general. The summer of 2023 saw an absolute flood of fic land on the Nine Worlds AO3 page.

[bloodydayshq]

Bloody Days ‘Harps of Gold’

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓𝟓𝟗: It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old; from angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold.

With the arrival of the celebrated Yuletide, the court of William III travels upriver via royal barge to sit out the hard frost of December in the cheery splendour of Greenwich Palace – escaping the encroaching sickness of the city, and to rehabilitate with fresh, roaming air and ample opportunity to partake in exhilirating hunts. As the varied colours of fresh plants wither with the coming of nippy airs, the servants bring forth the evergreens to celebrate the continuous burst of life — holly, ivy and mistletoe adorn every wall and archway. Dried fruits swimming in bowls of wine are found at every corner; plums are offered to every pacing maiden, in exchange for punchy kisses. Alms are also passed out to the surrounding towns and hamlets to engorge the King's image of majestic generosity, and at every banqueting table magnificent roasts are served alongside endless gifts and trinkets, doled out to His Majesty's favourites. Each evening the feasting table erupts in boisterous cheer, toasts are made with hot ale and cider, pageants are orchestrated and delighted in, and as the clock strikes midnight, a mischievous Lord of Misrule will be chosen by pure happenstance to become the Earl of Ormond – ensuring no shortage of royal entertainment.

Enjoy this God-ordained land where Kings have been born and bred, for surrounded by wintry countryside they are blessed to enjoy the fruits of English wilderness, with bountiful hunts arranged for almost every other day in the name of that merry Yuletide. With each day emerges a new, sparkling competition to take part in – by order of the King, there will be jousts on marvellous horseback with knights of the holy garter fighting for the favour of any particular young maiden, the prize naming one the Champion of Yuletide. Hand-to-hand combat will also take place beneath a canopy of regalia; watch as metal clinks and children laugh and coins specially minted for the occasion are passed between gloved hands. Alongside the brawn of William's court are gentler affairs for the sweetened courtiers to take part in: recitals of poem, caroling and prayer will be followed by gift-giving and dances spun beneath flickering candelight. Each evening will be adorned with wondrous feasts in remembrance of the table set by the late King Henry VIII – yet amidst the joyousness, courtiers will find to moments of quiet contemplation to reflect on the true meaning of the holiday, for at the Tudor court, solemnity and piety lives in perfect harmony with the festive cheer. (As does, we might add, continuous scheming, plotting, and the hatching of nefarious plots...)

OOC DETAILS.

The game moves to Greenwich Palace to celebrate Yuletide and escape sickness running rampant in London. On December 15th (irl date May 26) the court will erupt in celebration with jousting, melee tournaments, merry recitals and humble gift-giving (competition will come down to the roll of a dice, and more details will be available in the discord!)

Handy Christmas Guide:

FOOD:

Leech: a sweet made from milk, sugar and rose-water, which has cut into cubes.

Sugar-plate: made from sugar, egg-white and gelatin, crafted to look like walnuts, eggs and other food like marzipan is today

Gilded-fruit: lemons were gilded and used to decorate the banquet table

The Marchpane: an arrangement made from almond past which was iced or gilded and then decorated with sugar figures and crystallised fruit, was the centrepiece of this court

Christmas Pudding: made from meat, spices and oatmeal and then cooked in the gut of a boar

Gingerbread: made from bread, ginger, spices, sugar and wine into a stiff paste which was then moulded

Mulled wine: wine heated and infused with sugar and spices

Syllabub: a hot milk drink flavoured with rum or wine and spices

Lambswool: a drink made from mixing hot cider, sherry or ale, apples and spices, the mixture was heated until it "exploded" and formed a white "woolly" head

The Christmas "minced pye": contained thirteen ingredients to symbolise Jesus and his apostles. It was a rectangular, or crib shaped, pie as opposed to our present day round ones, and it also contained minced meat rather than just dried fruit and suet, with the mutton symbolising the shepherds to whom the Angel Gabriel appeared

Events:

The Lord of Misrule: a commoner would be chosen as the "Lord of Misrule" and would be in charge of organising the entertainment and revelry for the Twelve Days of Christmas

Mummer's Plays with music and Morris dancing

Christmas Carols: sung around the great halls in the mornings

Wassailing: The enjoying of a communal cup of spiced ale.

[charlesmwa]

DJ Headphones: A Deep Dive into Features, Benefits, and Choosing the Right Pair

If you’re someone who lives for the thrill of music mixing, whether in a professional DJ booth or at a casual house party, you’ve probably heard how critical the right pair of headphones can be. DJ headphones aren’t just regular headphones—they’re purpose-built tools that enhance your performance and help you stay in control of your music. Let’s break down the fascinating world of DJ headphones and figure out what makes them so special.

Why DJ Headphones Are a Must-Have

A DJ’s job is all about precision. They need to monitor tracks, align beats, and ensure the transition between songs is seamless—all in a noisy environment. This is where DJ headphones come into play. They’re not just about playing music; they’re about hearing music differently.

Unlike standard headphones, DJ headphones are designed to isolate sound and provide clear, detailed audio even when the crowd noise is deafening. They let DJs focus on the next track while keeping the current one in sync. In short, they’re like a DJ’s best friend, ensuring every performance is flawless.

Key Features That Set DJ Headphones Apart

Here’s a closer look at what makes DJ headphones different and, frankly, awesome:

1. Rotating Ear Cups

Ever noticed how DJs often wear their headphones on just one ear? This is where the rotating ear cups come in handy. They allow DJs to easily switch between monitoring the mix and staying aware of the live sound in the room. This feature isn’t just convenient—it’s essential for effective beatmatching and syncing tracks.

2. Superior Sound Isolation

Imagine trying to mix tracks while being drowned out by the bass blasting through the club speakers. DJ headphones feature excellent noise isolation, blocking out external sounds so you can clearly hear your tracks, even in the loudest environments.

3. Durability and Comfort

DJs spend hours performing, so their headphones need to be both durable and comfortable. DJ headphones are typically made with reinforced materials and designed for extended wear. Memory foam padding and adjustable headbands ensure a snug fit, reducing fatigue during long sets.

4. Enhanced Bass Response

The bass is a DJ’s playground. Whether you’re mixing house, hip-hop, or techno, you need to feel the bass to get the crowd moving. DJ headphones emphasize bass frequencies without overpowering the mids and highs, giving you a balanced yet punchy sound.

How to Choose the Right DJ Headphones

Picking the right DJ headphones can feel overwhelming with so many options out there. But don’t worry—here’s a simple guide to help you make the best choice.

1. Prioritize Sound Quality

Look for headphones with a wide frequency range. This ensures you can hear every detail of your tracks, from the deep bass to the crisp highs.

2. Check for Noise Isolation

If you plan to DJ in noisy environments like clubs or festivals, prioritize headphones with excellent noise isolation. Over-ear designs with closed backs are usually the best for this.

3. Consider Comfort and Build Quality

You’ll likely wear these headphones for hours at a time, so they should be comfortable. Lightweight designs, padded ear cups, and adjustable headbands are key features to look for. Also, opt for durable materials to ensure your headphones can withstand the demands of DJing.

4. Portability and Foldable Design

As a DJ, you’re constantly on the move. Foldable headphones are easier to carry, and detachable cables can make packing simpler.

5. Test Before You Buy

Whenever possible, test the headphones before purchasing. Reputable audio shops often have demo units you can try, allowing you to feel the comfort and hear the sound quality for yourself.

Benefits of Investing in Professional Gear

Let’s face it—DJing isn’t just a hobby; it’s an art. And like any artist, you need the right tools to bring your vision to life. Investing in professional-grade DJ headphones ensures you’re getting the best performance and reliability. Plus, professional audio shops offer expert advice and quality assurance, so you can shop with confidence and peace of mind.

Common Mistakes to Avoid When Buying DJ Headphones

1. Choosing Style Over Substance

Yes, sleek designs are tempting, but always prioritize functionality and sound quality over aesthetics.

2. Overlooking Durability

Cheap headphones might save you money upfront, but they’ll cost you more in the long run when they break. Spend a bit more for a durable pair that will last.

3. Ignoring Comfort

Even the best-sounding headphones won’t be much use if they’re uncomfortable to wear. Always try them on and ensure they feel right.

Did You Know?

DJ headphones often feature rotating ear cups to help DJs monitor their mix with one ear while staying aware of the live sound. It’s a small design detail that makes a massive difference during performances!

Final Thoughts

A good pair of DJ headphones can elevate your mixing game, giving you the clarity, precision, and comfort you need to perform at your best. Whether you’re spinning tracks for a packed club or just experimenting in your bedroom, the right headphones can make all the difference.

When you’re ready to buy, take your time to research, test different models, and choose a pair that fits your needs. And remember, shopping from a reputable audio shop not only guarantees quality but also gives you access to expert guidance, ensuring your investment is worthwhile.So, gear up and let the beats flow—your audience is waiting!

[the-firebird69]

Freya Ridings - Castles (Official Video)

We have a relationship it's kind of punchy but it's okay he says he's going solid and steady and joking around with me and he is I have a plan and he knows a little bit of it is helping me and I'm going to be okay it says. We have a few things to do one of them is to go over what I'm up to daily and I wanted to change and he's saying it will and I'm watching him and helping him and his torture he says that probably will not change it's not hard watching me and he wants to to help me and he knows it's hard watching him but I need to direct more and I am directing but I used to do it differently so that was good it was good to bring up and he says it's me so good. I also like what he's saying and doing most of the time he says that he's in a bunch of sleaze bags areas and it doesn't get worse than you can see how bad it is and they're druggies their whores and prostitutes and their presidents at the same time it doesn't make sense and a scumbags and that's true and it's changing and to be patient and I will and we're going to work on it together to make a change like we have been won't change without it. So I like that too and it's happy I help today it went very well I got him packed up I used his laundry bag he says that's amazing it's a great idea and people like it yes I can use it for stuff like that and what wears out and buy another one for a dollar and not care about it and it usually gets beat up anyways. I'm becoming famous for it because I helped design it and he likes it a lot because the stuff doesn't fly around on the bike and they use it in cars now this is amazing so I'm going to have him print

Hera he says you silly goose you should have told me but I wouldn't have gotten the true effect and he says parts of it cheap but if you put expensive stuff on it's going to be expensive but the zippers are holding and the materials not that cheap and it works it's actually cloth it's not paper and people are surprised it's great for storage and it's great for doing all the things but storing different stuff too not just clothes and it's going on all over the world that they like it and he says plastic burns are much higher temperature but if it catches fire in the whole building is going to go up as opposed to clothing and stuff you can put out and people did say that too but he likes it it's very handy and he's going to use it he thinks coming up soon and he needs to and I do appreciate that

..

And she did design it with someone who was your friend and you worked with and she's back and doing okay they don't realize they're making mistakes these people are out to lunch and evil we need to take control of the area and we're going to

Thor Freya it will happen when their cities are under dress and siege

Olympus

it will they're surrounded and still having a lot of problems

Mac Daddy

[learnhowtocreatemusic]

Top 6 Common Guitar Recording Mistakes to Avoid for Better Sound Quality

Recording guitar can be a rewarding yet challenging process. Capturing the perfect tone and achieving professional sound quality requires attention to detail. Unfortunately, even small mistakes can make your recordings sound amateurish or lackluster. In this blog post, we’ll cover six common guitar recording mistakes and how to avoid them for a cleaner, more polished sound.

1. **Neglecting Proper Tuning**

One of the simplest yet most overlooked mistakes is not ensuring the guitar is properly tuned before recording. Even if the tuning is slightly off, it can make the whole track sound out of key and unprofessional. Guitars can easily slip out of tune during sessions, especially when recording multiple takes.

**How to Avoid It:**

- Always tune your guitar before each take, and check the tuning periodically throughout the recording session.

- Use a reliable tuning pedal or app to ensure precision.

- Consider using a guitar with good tuning stability or locking tuners to avoid frequent re-tuning.

2. **Choosing the Wrong Mic Placement**

Microphone placement plays a crucial role in how your guitar sounds on the recording. Placing the mic too close to the sound source may result in a boomy or overly bass-heavy sound, while placing it too far can make the recording sound distant or thin. Experimenting with mic placement is essential to capturing the best tone.

**How to Avoid It:**

- For acoustic guitar, start by placing a condenser microphone around 12 inches away from where the neck meets the body of the guitar. Adjust the distance and angle depending on the sound you want to capture.

- For electric guitar, place the mic (usually a dynamic mic like the Shure SM57) off-center from the speaker cone to avoid harshness.

- Always monitor your sound as you adjust the placement to find the sweet spot.

3. **Overloading the Gain or Input Level**

Recording with the gain set too high can lead to unwanted distortion or clipping, which causes unpleasant, distorted artifacts in your sound. On the other hand, setting the input level too low can result in weak recordings with too much background noise. Striking a balance is key.

**How to Avoid It:**

- Use your audio interface’s input gain controls to ensure that your signal peaks between -6 dB and -3 dB. This gives you headroom without risking distortion.

- Monitor levels during the recording to ensure consistency.

- Remember, it’s easier to boost a low-level signal during mixing than to fix a clipped recording.

4. **Using Old or Worn-Out Strings**

Guitar strings lose their brightness and sustain over time, making your guitar sound dull or lifeless. Recording with old strings is one of the most common mistakes that can negatively affect your tone.

**How to Avoid It:**

- Always change your strings before an important recording session, especially if you haven’t changed them in a while.

- If you want a bright, punchy tone, opt for new strings. For a warmer sound, you can record with slightly broken-in strings (but not too old).

- Keep a backup set of strings handy during long sessions in case of breakage or wear.

5. **Ignoring Background Noise**

Background noise can be a major issue, especially when recording in a home studio. Noises such as hums, air conditioning, street sounds, or even the sound of your chair creaking can be captured by sensitive microphones, compromising the quality of your guitar recording.

**How to Avoid It:**

- Record in a quiet, isolated space where you can control external noise.

- Use noise gates or high-pass filters to eliminate low-level hums and background noise.

- For electric guitar recordings, eliminate amp hum by using balanced cables and grounding your equipment.

6. **Not Double-Tracking Guitars for Fullness**

Recording a single guitar track often leads to a thin sound that doesn’t fill out the mix. One common mistake is forgetting to double-track (recording the same part twice on separate tracks) guitars, which can add depth and fullness to your sound, especially in rock and pop music.

**How to Avoid It:**

- Record the same guitar part twice on separate tracks, panning each take hard left and right. This creates a fuller, wider stereo image.

- Be sure that both takes are as tight as possible for a cohesive sound.

- Experiment with slightly different tones or guitar settings for each take to add more texture and dimension.

Final Thoughts

Avoiding these common guitar recording mistakes can significantly improve the sound quality of your recordings. Whether you’re working on an acoustic track or a full electric arrangement, proper tuning, mic placement, and attention to detail can make a world of difference. By following these tips, you’ll be well on your way to capturing clean, professional-sounding guitar tracks that stand out in your mix.

Happy recording!

[dadjokestop]

The Art of Crafting Laughter If you’ve ever wondered how to write jokes, you’re not alone! Crafting a good joke is like baking a cake—you need the right ingredients, a pinch of creativity, and, most importantly, a dash of humor! Whether you’re looking to entertain your friends, spice up a presentation, or just make someone chuckle, understanding how to write jokes is a superpower everyone can benefit from. So, grab your thinking cap, and let’s dive into the wonderful world of joke writing! Understanding the Basics: The Setup and Punchline The foundation of every great joke is the classic setup and punchline structure. The setup creates an expectation, and the punchline flips that expectation on its head. It’s all about subverting what people think they know. Brainstorming Ideas: The Comedy Goldmine When you’re figuring out how to write jokes, brainstorming is key. Keep a notebook or a digital app handy to jot down any funny thoughts, observations, or experiences. Here are some tips to fuel your brainstorming sessions: Everyday Life: Sometimes the funniest material comes from the mundane. Observing daily situations can spark inspiration. Wordplay: Puns, homophones, and double meanings are great for creating clever jokes. Pop Culture: Current events, movies, and trends can be excellent sources for relatable humor. The Magic of Timing: Delivery Matters Once you have a joke, it’s all about how you deliver it. Timing is everything! Practice saying your jokes out loud to find the best rhythm and pace. Often, the pause before the punchline can build anticipation, leading to a bigger laugh. Experimenting with Styles: Find Your Voice There are various styles of humor, and finding your own voice can make your jokes more authentic. Here are a few styles to consider: One-liners: Quick, punchy jokes that deliver humor in a single sentence. Storytelling: Weaving a narrative around your joke can create suspense and engagement. Observational: Pointing out the absurdities of everyday life connects with audiences on a personal level. Jokes to Get You Started Now that you have a grasp of how to write jokes, let’s look at some examples to inspire you. Here are 30 unique jokes that illustrate the various styles we discussed: What Do You Call a Fish with No Eyes? “Fsh!” Why Did the Scarecrow Win an Award? “Because he was outstanding in his field!” How Does a Penguin Build Its House? “Igloos it together!” Why Don’t Scientists Trust Atoms? “Because they make up everything!” What’s Forrest Gump’s Password? “1forest1!” Why Did the Mummy Go to the Party? “Because he heard it was going to be a real wrap!” What’s a Ghost’s Favorite dessert? “I-scream!” How Does a Computer Get drunk? “It takes screenshots!” What Do You Call Fake Spaghetti? “An impasta!” Why Can’t Your Nose Be 12 Inches Long? “Because then it would be a foot!” How Do You Organize a Space Party? “You planet!” Why Did the Coffee File a Police Report? “It got mugged!” What Do You Call Cheese that Isn’t Yours? “Nacho cheese!” What Did the Traffic Light Say to the Car? “Don’t look! I’m changing!” Why Don’t Skeletons Fight Each Other? “They don’t have the guts!” What Do You Call an Alligator in a Vest? “An investigator!” Why Did the Cookie Cry? “Because his mom was a wafer (away for) so long!” How Do You Catch a Squirrel? “Climb a tree and act like a nut!” What Did the Ocean Say to the Beach? “Nothing, it just waved!” Why Can’t Toads Play Poker? “Because they might croak!” What Do You Call a Bear with No Teeth? “A gummy bear!” Why Did the bicycle fall over? “Because it was two-tired!” What’s orange and sounds like a parrot? “A carrot!” Why Are Ghosts Bad Liars? “Because you can see right through them!” How Do Trees Access the Internet? “They log on!” Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants?

“In case he got a hole in one!” Why was the math book sad? “Because it had too many problems!” What do you call a can opener that doesn’t work? “A can’t opener!” Why did the picture go to jail? “Because it was framed!” What did one wall say to the other? “I’ll meet you at the corner!” Why do cows have hooves instead of feet? “Because they lactose!” Conclusion: The Craft of Comedy Awaits! Now that you know how to write jokes, it’s time to put pen to paper and unleash your inner comedian! Remember, humor is subjective, so don’t be discouraged if every joke doesn’t land perfectly. Keep practicing, experimenting with styles, and refining your delivery. The world can always use more laughter, and you could be the one to bring it! So get out there, write those jokes, and spread the joy of laughter wherever you go!

[rocksvideoplayer]

Boost Your Audio Experience: Using the Equalizer and Bass Boost in Rocks Video Player

Rocks Video Player isn’t just about high-quality video playback; it also delivers an enhanced audio experience, thanks to its built-in Equalizer, Bass Boost, and Virtualizer features. Whether you're watching movies, listening to music, or streaming podcasts, these audio customization tools let you tailor the sound to your liking. In this article, we'll explore how to use the equalizer settings and how Bass Boost and Virtualizer elevate your listening experience.

1. Equalizer: Customize Your Sound

An equalizer allows you to adjust different frequency ranges in your audio. By boosting or reducing specific frequencies (such as bass, mids, or treble), you can tailor the sound to your preferences or the type of content you're consuming. For example, if you’re watching an action-packed movie, you might want to emphasize the low-end frequencies for deeper bass, while podcasts or spoken-word audio might benefit from a boost in the midrange for clearer voices.

How to Access and Use the Equalizer:

Open Rocks Video Player and start playing your video or audio file.

Tap the menu icon in the top corner of the player screen to open audio settings.

Navigate to the Equalizer option, where you'll find a set of adjustable sliders representing different frequency ranges (low, mid, high).

Adjust the sliders based on your preference:

Bass (Low frequencies): Great for music and movies that emphasize deep sound effects, such as explosions or beats.

Mids: Typically where vocals and spoken audio live, making this range crucial for dialogue in movies or speech clarity in podcasts.

Treble (High frequencies): Enhances sharpness, instrumental clarity, and the crispness of high-pitched sounds like cymbals or vocals.

Rocks Video Player provides preset modes such as Rock, Classical, Jazz, Pop, and more, which automatically adjust the equalizer settings for you. These modes are handy for users who don’t want to manually tweak the frequencies but still want optimized sound for different content types.

Benefits of the Equalizer:

Personalized Audio Experience: Tailor the sound output to suit your preferences, whether you prefer more bass-heavy sound or clearer mids for dialogue.

Enhanced Content Enjoyment: Different presets help adapt the audio based on what you’re watching, making action films, music videos, or podcasts more immersive and enjoyable.

2. Bass Boost: Deepen Your Sound

If you’re a fan of punchy bass, Rocks Video Player’s Bass Boost feature is perfect for you. It enhances the lower frequency range, giving your audio a richer, more powerful bass sound. Whether you're listening to bass-heavy genres like hip-hop, EDM, or watching action-packed scenes, Bass Boost adds depth and punch to the audio.

How to Use Bass Boost:

From the Equalizer settings menu, look for the Bass Boost toggle or slider.

Turn on Bass Boost and use the slider to control the intensity of the bass.

Adjust the level to your liking—lower levels for a subtle bass enhancement or higher for a more powerful thump.

When to Use Bass Boost:

Music: Particularly effective for genres like hip-hop, dubstep, and electronic music where basslines are central to the experience.

Movies: Adds more impact to explosions, car chases, or other action-packed sequences.

Games: Creates a more immersive environment by making in-game sound effects feel more impactful.

Benefits of Bass Boost:

Enhanced Immersion: Bass Boost makes movies, music, and games feel more dynamic and immersive by amplifying low-end frequencies.

Fuller Sound: Even simple soundtracks or dialogue-heavy scenes can feel richer and more engaging with the added bass depth.

3. Virtualizer: 3D Sound Experience

The Virtualizer feature in Rocks Video Player creates a virtual surround sound effect, giving you the sensation that audio is coming from different directions, even with stereo headphones. This feature mimics a 3D audio experience, making it perfect for movies, concerts, and immersive video content.

How to Use the Virtualizer:

In the Audio Settings menu, toggle the Virtualizer option on.

Adjust the intensity of the effect using the available slider.

When to Use the Virtualizer:

Movies & TV Shows: Especially beneficial for action, thriller, or sci-fi films that use multi-directional sound design.

Concert Videos or Live Performances: Enhances the feeling of being in a large, open space with sound coming from all around.

Games: Amplifies the directional audio in gaming environments, helping you feel like you’re right in the middle of the action.

Benefits of the Virtualizer:

Immersive Surround Sound: Simulates a surround sound effect, making the audio feel like it’s coming from all around you.

Enhanced Spatial Awareness: Perfect for gamers or movie lovers who want a more immersive experience without needing a full surround sound setup.

Conclusion

Rocks Video Player isn’t just about playing videos—it's about offering a fully immersive audio-visual experience. With its built-in Equalizer, Bass Boost, and Virtualizer, users can take full control of their audio settings, customizing the sound to match their preferences or the content they’re enjoying. Whether you're a music lover, a movie buff, or a gamer, these features give you the flexibility to enhance and personalize your listening experience, ensuring every moment sounds just right.

Make the most of your content with Rocks Video Player’s advanced audio features and enjoy sound the way you like it!

Download now on Google Play Store.

[micerhat]

Haven’t drawn Prudence in a while so why the heck not? Have a Punchy!

[thecraftyfoxthewriterscorner]

Editing Tip #5: Editing for Variation

A couple of line and copyediting tips to help you make your story shine. ✨

Hey Story Crafters,

Fall is in the air! The days are getting shorter and cooler, and pumpkin spice is back on the menu. I’m not really a fan of cooler weather, but low humidity and crisp air is pretty nice.

In this post, I want to cover a couple of line and copyediting tips that you can use during revision to help make your story shine even more. These tips are best used after you’re confident in and happy with your story from a big-picture level (in other words, after all the developmental editing is done).

If you’re just starting out as a writer, this might be a higher level of self-editing than you want to tackle at this point of your career. You still might want to check out the following tips, just to see if you want to add them to your self-editing toolbox to use in the future.

Word Choice Variation

Ever sit down to revise your story, switch out a word to introduce a little variation (like switching “amazing” to “awesome”), only to realize that you used that word earlier in the same paragraph? Or even just in the previous sentence?

It happens to me a lot as a writer. And it can happen during revision, or during the initial process of writing (because we all have a few words that we tend to fall back on and overuse). There are words that are expected to be frequently used (e.g., “and”, “said”, “the,” etc.), and because they are used so frequently, they tend to fade into the background. They don’t draw attention to themselves. But then there are less frequently used words that do draw attention, which makes it more obvious when they are used close together.

This is where the Search/Find function in your word processer comes in handy. Just type in the word you want to search for, and review how frequently that word appears in your story, and where that word appears. Depending on the results, you might want to consider switching up your word choice.

Sentence Length Variation

If you want to experiment with tone and mood, varying the length of your sentences can give you different effects, depending on what you’re going for.

For example, long, flowing sentences can help give a sense of continuous movement.

On the other hand, if you’re going for bursts of impact, short, punchy sentences will be the way to go. Just. Like. This.

Depending on the point of view you’ve chosen to use to tell your story, there is a delicate balance between your writerly voice and the POV character’s voice. But this is still a technique you should keep in mind, whether you use it as a writing exercise or try to incorporate into your writing.

As a writing exercise, you can take one block of text and try writing it from a different POV character, using sentence length variation to reflect a specific POV character’s personality.

Upcoming Events

ACES VCON 2024: This week is the ACES: The Society for Editing Virtual Conference! I’m super psyched to attend and learn from my fellow editors.

Flights of Foundry 2024 (September 27-29): Back for its 5th year this weekend is Flights of Foundry, the virtual, worldwide event for speculative creatives! I’ll be a participating on 2 panels: Let’s Fight! [Hour 4.0 = 4PM ET on Friday, September 27] and Ask an Editor (Session 1 of 2) [Hour 29.0 = 5PM ET on Saturday, September 28]

Also, I’ve still got a few editing slots open for this year! If you’ve recently finished a project (whether it’s a short story collection, a novella, or a novel) and you’re looking for an editor, please get in touch.

Send me an email!

Until next time!

Best,

Leah

Visit The Crafty Fox Editing Services

Connect with me on social media!

Interested in getting free writing resources? Subscribe to my free Substack newsletter!

Substack post: https://thecraftyfoxwriterscorner.substack.com/p/editing-tip-5-editing-for-variation

[herrymccourt]

From Bose to Sony: Comparing the Best Wireless Headphones Available in the UK

Finding the best wireless headphones the UK has to offer can take time and effort, with so many options on the market. To help make your buying decision more accessible, I've tested and reviewed the most popular pairs from leading audio brands like Bose, Sony, Sennheiser, Beats, and more.

In this wireless headphone comparison, I'll examine the audio quality, comfort, battery life, connectivity, noise cancellation, and other features of my top picks in depth. 

I've also included a comparison table to show the key specs and prices side-by-side.

So whether you're looking for premium noise-canceling headphones, budget-friendly earbuds, or something in between, read on to discover the best wireless headphones in the UK for all needs and budgets right now.

Bose QuietComfort 45

As one of the biggest names in noise-canceling headphones, the Bose QuietComfort 45 offers arguably the best active noise cancellation. This makes them an excellent choice if you want to block out the world and focus solely on your music.

The over-ear design provides plush padding for all-day comfort, while the sound quality is well-balanced with punchy bass and clear mids/highs. Battery life is an impressive 24 hours per charge. The headphones connect seamlessly to your devices via Bluetooth 5.1.

Other handy features include:

Quick 15-minute charging.

A carrying case.

Transparency mode to let in ambient sound when needed.

Support for voice assistants like Siri and Google Assistant.

Overall, the QC45 provides superb noise-canceling paired with signature Bose sound quality.

Sony WH-1000XM5

The Sony WH-1000XM5 is the highly anticipated successor to the popular XM4 model. Featuring an all-new design with improved comfort and sound quality, these headphones represent Sony's flagship noise-cancelling model.

Key upgrades include:

Powerful new Integrated Processor V1 for exceptional noise cancellation.

Superior wireless connectivity via Bluetooth 5.2.

LDAC/DSEE Extreme audio upscaling for Hi-Res quality.

The 30-hour battery life provides all-day power.

Touch controls give you convenient access to your music and calls, and Speak-to-Chat technology automatically pauses when you speak. If you want some of the best wireless headphones UK shoppers can buy right now, the WH-1000XM5 is hard to beat.

Sennheiser Momentum 4 Wireless

For audiophile-quality sound in a sleek design, the Sennheiser Momentum 4 Wireless should be on your radar. These over-ear headphones deliver crisp, dynamic audio across the frequency range thanks to large 42mm transducers.

The active noise cancellation rivals Bose and Sony, effectively minimizing ambient noise. You get extensive codec support, including aptX Adaptive and AAC, for optimal wireless audio quality. The intelligent pause feature stops playback when you remove the headphones.

With up to 60 hours of battery per charge, the Momentum 4 offers some of the most extended playtimes available. The foldable design and carry case provide portable convenience. If sound quality is your top priority, these Sennheiser headphones deserve your consideration.

Beats Studio Buds

For affordable wireless earbuds, the Beats Studio Buds are a great choice. Despite their lower price point, they provide impressive features, including active noise cancellation and Transparency mode. The compact earbud design creates a comfortable, stable fit.

You can expect punchy, dynamic sound with emphasis on the low end, typical of Beats headphones. The Class 1 Bluetooth connection offers reliable wireless performance and quick pairing. IPX4 water resistance boosts durability for workouts.

Available in stylish colors like black, white, and red, the Studio Buds deliver great value without breaking the bank. Battery life reaches 8 hours per charge, with 24 additional hours from the pocket-sized charging case. Overall, these versatile earbuds are among the top budget options for the best wireless headphones UK shoppers can find.

Bowers & Wilkins PI7

For premium, genuinely wireless earbuds, the Bowers & Wilkins PI7 should be high on your list. These high-end earbuds feature advanced noise cancellation with transparency mode and support for hi-res 24-bit audio via aptX Adaptive. The drivers produce brilliant, well-balanced sound.

The PI7 offers unique capabilities like audio retransmission, where the charger case doubles as a Bluetooth transmitter. This allows you to stream audio to headphones lacking Bluetooth, like in-flight entertainment systems. For convenience, you also get wireless charging and Qi compatibility.

While the PI7 doesn't come cheap, the excellent sound quality, noise cancellation, and innovative features make them one of the best wireless headphones UK audiophiles can buy. Expect up to 20 hours of total playtime from the buds and charging case.

Cambridge Audio Melomania 1+

If you want affordability without sacrificing performance, check out the Cambridge Audio Melomania 1+ true wireless earbuds. For the low price, these earbuds manage to deliver surprisingly excellent audio quality and battery life.

The compact design provides a secure, comfortable fit for extended wear. Highlights include powerful 9.2mm graphene drivers, Bluetooth 5.0, and support for aptX/AAC codecs. Touch controls on each earbud allow convenient access to calls and music.

With up to 41 hours of total battery life from the buds and case, the Melomania 1+ keeps going on long trips. The IPX5 water resistance also makes them suitable for workouts. If you want long-lasting wireless earbuds great for all genres under £100, these deserve your consideration.

JBL Tune 230NC TWS

The JBL Tune 230NC TWS earbuds offer active noise cancellation at a mid-range price point. Featuring 10mm dynamic drivers, these JBL wireless earbuds deliver the vibrant, bass-heavy sound the brand is known for. The four microphones effectively block ambient noise to keep your tunes in focus.

You get on-ear controls for music and calls, along with support for voice assistants like Google Assistant, Siri, and Alexa. Battery life gives you up to 40 hours with the included charging case. The water and sweat-resistant design holds up during intense workouts.

Available in stylish colors like black, blue, and white, the JBL Tune 230NC provides excellent performance and features while costing far less than premium options. For powerful audio and noise cancellation on a budget, put these on your shortlist.

Anker Soundcore Liberty 3 Pro

As one of the best wireless headphones UK shoppers can find for under £150, the Soundcore Liberty 3 Pro earbuds merit consideration. Adjustable noise cancellation keeps your surroundings quiet when you want it. Co-created with Grammy-winning audio engineers, the sound quality impresses with rich bass and crisp treble.

The IPX4 rating makes these earbuds water and sweat-resistant for active lifestyles. With up to 32 hours of total playtime from the earbuds and wireless charging case, you get plenty of power. The companion app lets you customize features like the EQ and touch controls.

From the stylish design to excellent noise cancellation and audio, the Liberty 3 Pro punches well above its price. If you want feature-packed wireless earbuds without excessive cost, these deserve a look.

Conclusion

After comparing all the top wireless headphones available in the UK, a few models stand out from the crowd—the Bose QuietComfort 45 offers industry-leading noise cancellation for distraction-free listening. For audiophiles seeking Hi-Res quality, the Bowers & Wilkins PI7 delivers superb sound in a truly wireless design.

On a budget, the Cambridge Audio Melomania 1+ provides incredible value with long battery life and great audio. The Sony WH-1000XM5 represents the most advanced option with superior connectivity, calling features, and audio upscaling.

No matter your needs and budget when shopping for the best wireless headphones UK buyers want, this guide highlights excellent choices worth considering from top audio manufacturers. Now, enjoy your new headphones!

Be sure to stop by Atlantic Electrics in London to check out our wide selection of audio products, TVs, smart home tech, and electrical appliances! In the comments below, let me know which headphones you choose.

[memynissanandi]

What Makes The Nissan Magnite Such A Chic Magnet

Stylish, punchy and spacious: the Nissan Magnite has everything going for it.

Over the last year or so, numerous adjectives have been used to describe the Nissan Magnite. And Nissan’s compelling SUV is deserving of each one of them. The one that really sticks, though, is ‘charismatic’. There is clearly no better word for the SUV that has been racking up sales numbers despite the numerous lockdowns. But surely, the sheer appeal of the Magnite isn’t all that surprising when you consider Nissan’s illustrious automotive heritage: the GT-R, the Leaf, the 350Z, the Bluebird… and now, the Magnite. Suffice it to say that superior engineering has been part of Nissan’s DNA for over a hundred years. And so are incandescent looks.

The Magnite is all sharp lines and angular handsomeness, and its aggressive stance is so inviting, that you want to get into the car, thumb the starter button and floor the pedal. This visual boldness and aggression is not the only reason the Magnite stands apart from other run-of-the-mill SUVs. What the Magnite has done since its launch in December last year is to overturn traditional assumptions about category, style, and class. Here is an SUV that offers a real explosion for your buck, and thanks to this combination of spot-on pricing and an assemblage of incredible attributes, the Magnite has been a threat to not just other SUVs in its class, but also to sedans and premium hatchbacks.

Take, for instance, the suite of features it comes with. The Nissan Magnite for sale is packed with segment-first features such as wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, and then there is wireless charging and – wait for it – a 360-degree reversing camera and display. All of this, of course, is accompanied by a crisp 8.0-inch touchscreen, Nissan Connect, the company’s integrated audio, navigation, and communication system, smartwatch connectivity, puddle lamps, automatic climate control, steering-mounted controls and a sweet-sounding six-speaker audio system. If you think that’s impressive, you’ll be glad to know that the Magnite doesn’t lack space either. The SUV’s cabin is a serene space enlivened by quality trim and tasteful textures all around. We especially love the smart air-con knobs, the deconstructed centre console, and the double-stitched ‘denim’ on the door pads and elbow rests. Plus, those of us who practically live in our cars will dig the ginormous 10-litre glovebox.

The seats are remarkably comfortable and space is abundant, especially at the rear. This means that, irrespective of whether you are at the back, or in the driver’s seat, you’ll find your time inside the Magnite to be engaging and yet relaxing.

Since we are talking about driving, prospective Magnite owners will encounter two contenders that could do duty under its hood. These are a 1.0-litre B4D naturally-aspirated petrol engine and a 1.0-litre HRA0 turbo-petrol. The former is a naturally aspirated petrol engine that develops 72PS and is offered with a slick 5-speed manual transmission, while the 100PS turbo-petrol comes with the option of either a manual transmission or a CVT automatic. We had a blast with the latter and loved the way the Magnite performed at traffic light grands prix. It’s a lively engine that responds with great alacrity to inputs and is eager to spring out of inertia. This enthusiasm comes in handy, especially in urban situations and makes driving practically effortless. Keep going towards – and on – an open road, and two things stand out: linear power delivery and refinement. Should you be in the mood for some fun, simply select ‘Sport’ to make the experience even better and revel in the punch that the engine delivers.

The Magnite is equipped with a pliant suspension, and that means a comfortable ride irrespective of the terrain the SUV is on. The suspension soaks up undulations with ease and admirably tackles larger threats that rise up from the rain-battered roads of our cities.

As impressive is the SUV’s straightline stability, which inspires confidence at high speeds. Another highlight? The well-weighted steering makes zipping through traffic and into and out of narrow lanes a breeze. What about safety, you ask? Well, that has always been a priority area for Nissan, and it’s no wonder the Magnite has, apart from ABS with EBD and dual front airbags, features such as rear parking sensors and automatic warning hazard on heavy braking as standard. Plus, you also get electronic stability control, brake assist, ISOFIX child-seat mounts, traction control, hill start assist and a tyre pressure monitoring system.

The Nissan Magnite has clearly left an impression on everyone who has driven one. What we have here is a sharp-looking SUV that makes driving something to look forward to, that’s filled to the gills with equipment and spacious enough for five. Plus, how can one forget that it earned a 4-star safety rating in the ASEAN NCAP tests earlier this year? Now, if you add cost-effectiveness to this mix – Nissan’s capable, stylish all-rounder is the most affordable compact SUV around – you’ll realise that there is nothing quite like the Magnite.

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Shared from https://www.autocarindia.com/

[gogetyours]

Skullcandy Crusher ANC 2 - Best Headphones 2023?

For the past two months we have been given the task of reviewing the brand NEW Skullcandy Crusher ANC headphones. The Crusher 2's, well they comes very well packaged and presented in a very bright and detailed box. At first glances, everything looked fantastic and it gets better once you open up the box and pull out that nice feeling headphones storage case.

Skullcandy have included a woven material wrapped inner case that will hold the foldable headphone nice and snug, with moulded cups to keep them locked while transiting. We do get a type-c charge cable and a 3.5mm aux cable for wired connection and one thing we noticed is that the Skullcandy logo is embedded on almost everything... including them mentioned, wires.

We do get a simple yet clear user guide within the box, including a very handy and well situated quick start guide, printed on the underside layer of the inner packaging but the thing that stood out most, was the Skullycandy Crusher ANC headphones....they simply look stunning.

Wow the design of the crusher 2's have been well thought of, we just loved the colour contrast of the matt black soft 40mm driver units, with accents of gloss black plastic on the inner side of the driver arms with a suede like material wrapped headband, complimented with woven padding and the best feeling earpads that we have seen in a very long time.

Yes the soft padded earpads sit direct over our ears, providing extreme comfort and nice passive noise isolation. The right driver unit does host most of the large and easy to blindly feel music function controls with the left driver unit hosting the type-c charge port, 3.5mm audio port, the fighter jet style power/pairing button with the Crusher bass dial button situated in an easy to reach position.

Audio without the crusher option be activated was really quite pleasing, the bass is nice and smooth, treble is high providing punchy impactive audio and the mid levels sit upfront with no overpowering. Most songs and genres of music sound really pristine, voices sound crisp and clear but when the crusher dial is pressed and the crusher bass is activated, the bass simply shakes your skull right apart. The dirty Bass remind you of them clubbing days, back in the day when the bass shook you to death until 6am the next morning. Okay i don't think with that crusher mode on that you could withstand listening to music for many hours on end but i think its brilliant to have that option when you want to crank up that bass when your favourite dance track comes on.

You can toggle up and down that crusher setting and perfectly set the bass to how you want it, and not only that, if you want to immerse yourself more you and switch that ANC mode on and lock your self away from your surroundings. With the downloaded Skull-IQ app you have plenty of custom options to be had, too many to list, but..you know what? if you want to see more information about the Skullcandy Crusher 2's, please head on over to our YouTube channel for our detailed review..Cheers!