#and even as a gay man I feel comfortable calling her that because I know there's no woman behind those words.

[traggy-faggy]

What if I told you that pronouns don't mean anything when it comes to gender.... what if I told you that you can be a cis girl and use they/them or even he/him pronouns JUST BECAUSE YPU LIKE THEM. Pronouns are not an identity they are not linked to one specific gender they are just words and can mean anything!!! Stop putting barriers around words that anyone can use to make themselves more comfortable!!!

[pxningfo0l]

It's a reoccurring pattern with Steve, getting come out to and then instantly shitting on the person's taste in people.

Robin comes out to him and tells him she liked Tammy 'The Muppet' Thompson and Steve immediately jumps onto making fun of her because obviously, he will. She sounds like a goddamn muppet! Robin may deny it, but he knows she knows he's right. And he never lets her forget it.

After the Byers family moves back to Hawkins, Steve gets closer to the Byer-Hopper twins (Not blood related twins, but with how similar they are they might as well be). He takes note of the way Will carries himself, the way he stares at Micheal Asshole Wheeler of all people when he thinks no one is looking.

The kid doesn't come out that quickly, so with Robin's advice, Steve takes his time, making it known how okay he was with Will's sexuality, even if he did have standards low enough to beat Robin's terrible Tammy Thompson taste (He says this to her and she reacts as predictably as ever- by throwing something at him).

When Will does come out to him, Steve makes sure he only freezes for a literal second, not wanting the kid to panic like he'd seen Robin do back then. Of course, as soon as he's done comforting and reassuring the kid that he's completely fine with him being gay, he immediately jumps onto making fun of his terrible crush on Mike, finding great joy in the bright blush burning the teen's face.

The next time someone comes out to him, he's more caught off guard than he was with Robin.

Not because he was shocked that Eddie liked guys, no. He might be stereotyping a little, but no straight guy goes that close to another man and calls him Big Boy all low and seductively, a teasing grin curling his lips, a glint in his eyes-

You get the point.

The reason why he's shocked is because Eddie comes out to him, and when Steve asks about crushes, Eddie says,

"Oh, I had the worst crush on you in high school."

Steve sits there, his jaw practically on the ground. The way Eddie says it, all casual, not caring about the consequences or the effect it has on Steve.

"Wh- I- Me?" He stammered out, incredulous. "Dude, I was the biggest asshole back then!"

Eddie chuckles at that, a low sound that sends further heat into Steve's already flushed body. "The me back then did not give a shit, let me tell you that man." He turns to Steve then, giving him a slow look, a gaze more like, and smirks. "I certainly understood why the ladies were so desperate for you and your gorgeous locks."

His heart is pounding like crazy, an audible thump in his ears. Thoughts race in his head, one after the other, all jumbled up until what comes out of Steve's mouth next is,

"So what, you've got a thing for douchebags? Seriously?"

Eddie shoots him another look, more confused than ever. "What?"

"You heard me," Steve says, feeling the next words come out of his mouth like a waterfall. "I was a huge asshole in high school dude. How the hell did you have a crush on me back then? Did you seriously have no standards? You'd really stoop that low just because I had nice hair? I have good hair, and I'm nice now! What's stopping you from-"

Steve cuts himself off with an audible clack of his teeth, a sound that most often comes from Robin when she shuts herself up.

Goddamnit Robin.

Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, the cigarette between his fingers burning away. Steve wants to watch the smoke curl away, but he's too transfixed on Eddie's doe-like gaze.

Then Eddie's features smooth over, a terrible, terrible grin curling its way onto his lips, deepening that dimple on his cheeks. He leans forward eyes lidded just slightly, and says,

"What's stopping me from what, sweetheart?"

[eddiesghxst]

CRUEL INTENTIONS - part three: eden

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: steddie x innocent/shy!reader

summary: you're a new student at All Saints Catholic Academy and Steve and Eddie have every intention to sink their teeth into you.

contains: enemies to lovers between steddie, blasphemy/religious talk, smoking and alcohol use, blood kink, chasing kink, masked man, depictions of a panic attack, depictions of a threesome, descriptions of heavy guilt, corruption kink, mentions of subtle bullying, mentions of shitty parenting, slut shaming, SMUT - 18+ , oral (m and f receiving), cum play, cheating (not on reader), NON-CON/DUB-CON, and stevie having gay panic <3

word count: 9.9k

WARNING: this fic contains dark themes including - NON-CON/ DUB-CON, manipulation, coercion, and corruption. Please fully read the content warnings before proceeding. Again, THIS IS A DARK FIC, do not read it if you're not comfortable with it!

I previous part | next part I

I series masterlist | -main masterlist- l

Steve has a very strict night routine.

Five days out of the week, Steve has rugby practice until 7. Most boys on the team simply take a quick shower and call it a night, but no, Steve has a step-by-step routine that he follows each night— not even Nancy could sway him from the path of his night routine.

Because you see, when Steve was younger, his parents were prissy and precise. Everything was done on time, and every hour had a task. If Steve were to ever stray from that schedule, he’d be made to feel like a failure. It’s ingrained in him, woven into his DNA, this life of doing things by order. 

So it’s a little shocking (and concerning) that Steve immediately threw his nightly ritual out the window the second Eddie told him about tonight.

And it seems as if this will be a reoccurring theme with you— Steve altering his life just to get a glimpse of you. Because ever since you came along, it’s like Steve’s entire world has been flipped and lit on fire. He can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop wanting you. Has to hold your name on his tongue when he’s balls-deep in Nancy because, fuck, you’re the only thing he wants right now. He feels bad, but not enough to stop.

“You’re not fucking her yet, but she has to at least get used to you being around.”

Which is true, Steve supposed. Eddie is many things, but a liar is not one of them. If Steve hopes to ever swing his dick near the pot of gold between your legs, then he has to at least work a little bit for it. This way, he doesn’t have to worry about you running off and telling someone about it.

Trust. Though a distorted version from your point of view, it is still an essential part of this plan.

Steve doesn’t know much about said plan, which is kind of his fault. Because when Eddie approached Steve after a particularly rough day at practice, Steve kind of told Eddie to fuck off, so Eddie just left him with a quick, “If you ever plan on fucking her, then I suggest you haul your ass to my room tonight, asshole.” So, Steve had no choice but to follow through on that.

Because Steve will never get through to you without Eddie. Because Eddie is the catalyst. Eddie is the bridge that Steve needs to reach you— which is annoying because now when Eddie’s got his fist wrapped around his cock, and he’s thinking about you and how pretty you looked with his cum coating your lips, how good you taste, and how pretty you sounded— those familiar brown eyes slip into frame and suddenly Eddie is right there along with you— lingering. Like a phantom.

Steve can’t stand it.

But he needs you. He needs you almost more than he needs air. Because Steve usually gets whatever he wants in the blink of an eye, but you…

You’re forbidden fruit.

And sitting next to you, so close to you, with you squirming and avoiding the screen that displays some cheap porno— Steve thinks he might explode.

You turn to Eddie, shy and scared, digging your fingers into his shirt and tugging. “Eddie, I don’t—“ “Shh, bunny. We’re watching a movie. Didn’t I already tell you not to talk?”

You frown, big, wide eyes soft and wet with tears. You don’t like this; that much is obvious. And Eddie’s struggling to keep a grin off his face like a cocky bastard.

There are soft moans spilling from Eddie’s TV. Two guys, one girl, and oddly enough, the girl looks like you. Steve thinks Eddie did that on purpose, and he can admit it was clever, even if you might be slightly too dumb to notice.

They have the girl on a cheap leather couch, splayed out on her back, with one guy stuffing his face between her legs and the other guy thrusting his cock deep into her throat, wrapping a hand around the bulge in her neck. 

You press your legs together, shifting in your spot again, and Steve catches Eddie’s eye. Eddie subtlety nods towards your lap, giving Steve the green light (not that he fucking needed one), and Steve scoots closer to you.

Steve places a firm hand high up on your thigh, fingers spread deep into the insides of your thighs as he lowly says, “Sit still, sweet girl.”

You frown, caught between two walls with nowhere to go. Nowhere to run— scared little thing, you are.

Steve smooths his hand over your thigh, gently squeezing and molding your skin to his touch, soft and firm yet not enough to bring you pain— Steve doesn’t think he could ever hurt such a sweet thing like you.

The porno is in full swing now, the two men fucking the lady like it’s the last thing they’ll do, and you have big, full tears running down your face as Steve pinches your skin to open you back up. He slinks his hand higher, the lip of your skirt kissing against his wrist, making way for him. His pinky dusts across the hem of your panties, wet as he had expected— all of you wants him, even when you act like it doesn’t.

You gasp and tremble between the boys; your eyes squeezed shut with tears rolling down your cheeks thick as rivers— you look like a small bunny cornered by prey. Precisely what you are.

Eddie coos, shifts so he’s facing you more comfortably. He gently holds your face and coaxes you into opening your eyes. “You like it when Stevie touches you, don’t you?” He says.

You open your mouth to respond, but Eddie quickly butts in, “Ah ah…” He raises a finger to his lips, reminding you that he doesn’t want a single word falling from your lips. And you listen so well— without a single protest— Eddie’s done well on you thus far, but Steve likes to believe you have an obedient nature either way. 

Sentenced to silence, you shake your head no, and Eddie laughs. Soft and deep, brown eyes swimming with hunger and patience, “No?” He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “You think I don’t know about you cumming on his tongue?”

You tense at that, body rigid beneath their touch as you turn to gaze at Steve with wide eyes, eyes swimming in guilt and the realization that Steve had lied to you. Your frown deepens then, more tears coming and Steve is now the one cooing. “Of course, I told Eddie, bunny. You knew that, though, didn’t you?” He teases.

You let out a muffled sob, squeezing your eyes shut again as tears fall. “You knew Eddie didn’t say you could open your legs for me, and I would have to tell him about your behavior.” He chastises. “So gullible, gonna get yourself in trouble being so stupid, sweet girl.” He gently coos. Your chest stutters with uneven breaths, and Steve’s cock throbs in his sweats.

With you being so unstable, Steve is able to slip his fingers past your panties without a fight. He slips his fingers through your wet folds, warm and sticky, leaning forward to press a kiss under your jaw as you twitch and squirm beneath his touch.

“Look at you,” Eddie prowls, “Shaking for his touch. Again. Did I ever say he could touch you?” 

You huff, eyebrows pinched in frustration as you shake your head. “Then why do you want it?” Eddie asks. Steve sinks a finger into your warm cunt, wetness spilling around his knuckles as your thighs tremble. “I—” Eddie clicks his tongue, reminding you of his rule of no talking.

Steve crooks his finger up, searching for that gummy spot of yours, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck as you struggle against him. “God, if I knew you were such a slut I wouldn’t have wasted this much time on you,” Eddie says.

You break your rules then, voice pleading and sad as you claw at Eddie’s shirt, “I’m not! I’m not, I swear. I didn’t know!” You sob. Steve watches in awe at the way you crumble for Eddie. You’re so desperate to please him, to be kept under his arm of security, unbeknownst to you that he’s the one you should be running from.

Steve is jealous… but he wants to learn.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eddie widens his eyes. You shake your head, hips twitching when Steve begins dragging lazy circles over your clit. “H-he told me you said it was okay.” You frown. “Who did? Stevie?” Eddie asks. You nod, and Eddie’s gaze flickers to Steve, a ghost of a grin dancing in his eyes.

“I don’t remember saying that, sweetheart.” Steve lies. 

“Stevie never said that. So, either you’re lying, or Steve is lying. Are you calling Steve a liar, bunny?”

You look frazzled, seconds away from bursting into an uncontrollable fit of tears as Steve continues playing with you. And the truth is Steve is a liar. He lied to you when he said Eddie gave him the green light to get between your thighs. But you know better than to ever point fingers— again, a product of Eddie’s skilled teachings.

You shake your head no with a frown, and Eddie hums. “Well, did you like it? When Steve licked your slutty little cunt?” Eddie asks.

You’re visibly panicked, wide eyes darting to Steve, knowing he will tell the truth if you lie. There is no way out but through for you, and you know it. You shamefully nod, and Eddie hums again. He pets a gentle hand over your hair, letting you nuzzle into him when you begin to tremble with pleasure. “Would you like him to do it again, bunny?”

And if you’re smart enough, you’ll understand that even if you say no, Eddie will somehow coax you into splitting your thighs open for Steve again. You contemplate longer than Steve would appreciate, but the second he pulls his fingers from you and dips them into his mouth, your eyes flash with this little look that Steve has never seen from you.

Lust.

Steve sucks the juices off his fingers lewdly and greedily, never pulling his gaze from you. You watch, wide-eyed with trembling limbs and a pouty lip, Steve wanting nothing more than to kiss them until they’re sore.

Apprehensive yet interested, you nod your head shyly, and if the two boys hadn’t been watching you like a hawk, they probably wouldn’t have even caught it.

Eddie slinks his fingers through your hair, knuckles gently curling at the root as he drags you closer, kissing you filthy and raw. You whine, thighs closing around Steve’s wrist when he finds his hand back on your warm skin. It’s low against your lips, but Steve hears Eddie tell you, “Come here.” And you follow like an eager puppy wanting to please their owner.

Steve can taste you on his tongue, an overwhelming feeling to taste more as he watches Eddie move you around like you’re a lifeless doll. He places you with your back to his chest, your thighs pressed against Eddie’s knees as he gently tips your head back to kiss you again. Steve stands, shrugging off his jacket and letting it drop off somewhere he could care less about because Eddie is splitting your legs apart, presenting you nice and pretty for Steve.

Eddie’s whispering things in your ear, things Steve can’t hear over the low sound of sex from the TV, but he sees you squirm and pout, and he can only imagine he’s saying something about how dirty you are. How cute you are, all slick and ready for someone to put their hands on your greedy cunt. 

Eddie’s eyes flicker up to Steve’s as his hands trail down your sides, thick and decorated fingers pushing your skirt up and petting over your clothed cunt before hooking his fingers in the of the material and pulling it to the side. 

Steve’s hunger grows like an angry beast. Purrs deep in his chest, and puffs out so big it nearly breaks his ribs. He wants to take you right here and now. Press your thighs out as far as they’ll go, lick into your mouth and shove his cock deep into your cunt. It’ll hurt, probably be a fight to fit every girthy inches of him in, but he’ll make it work. You’re a fighter, anyway. Strong, even if you don’t know it.

“Well, don’t make her wait, Stevie. Look at her, she’s dripping.” Eddie purrs, fingers sliding through your wet folds, parting his fingers into a ‘V’ to show off your throbbing heat. 

Steve dips his knee onto the bed, leaning forward to rest on his stomach between your thighs. He takes you in, just as he did that day in the locker room, eyes casting over every piece of your pretty cunt and saving it to remember when he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock. Steve can smell you, drawing him in closer as you throb and a drop of slick slips from you. He groans, fingers gripping the back of your thighs, squeezing and molding you to his touch. 

“You want my tongue, princess?” He purrs. You whimper, shying beneath his gaze when he looks up at you from between your thighs. Steve blows cool air against you just to see you throb and squirm. You huff, lips pouting as you turn your head to look back at Eddie. Steve reaches forward, fingers gripping your chin to pull your face back down to look at him, “Don’t look at him, look at me.”

He runs a thumb over your lip, wet spit catching the pad of his finger. “Is he the one about to eat your greedy pussy?” Steve teases. You whine, shaking your head no. “Answer my question.”

Your hips squirm, halting when Steve’s fingers dig into your skin. Your answer comes shaky and shy, “Yes, please.”

“Good girl. Using your words,” Steve dips his thumb into your mouth, dragging it over your tongue, letting you get it nice and wet before he pulls away, pressing it to your clit. Your legs tremble, panting when he runs circles around the tight bud. Steve purses his lips, spit drooling from his lips to drip down onto your pussy before he leans forward and places his mouth over your pussy, hungrily lapping and sucking. 

“O-oh! Steve, I—” “Shh, shh. I want you to watch them.” Eddie speaks up, leaning forward to speak into your ear, directing your gaze to the TV. “Look at them. See how they’re using her? See how deep they’re fucking her, bunny?” He asks. You nod, Steve’s gaze fluttering as he devours you, fucking his tongue in and out of your warm hole. 

“You want us to do that to you?” Eddie asks, voice low and husky. It makes Steve’s cock throb in his pants. He thinks he hates it, but his mind is fuzzy enough with lust to ignore it. Steve grunts, nuzzling his face deeper into you, and your eyes widen at the words Eddie is saying. “I—” you huff, “I don’t know— s’so bad. It’s not right.” You slur under a whine. 

Eddie hums with a low chuckle, “Then how will you repay us for making you feel so good, hm?” His hands slip up your shirt, kneading at your chest and cracking a smile when you arch into his touch. Steve’s hips roll into the mattress, eyes rolling back into his skull at the pressure. 

“C-can’t, Teddy—” “But you want to. You want to be fucked, don’t you?” He purrs. You tilt your hips into Steve’s mouth, your body begging for more as you shudder between the two boys. You whimper, and Steve’s eyes are fluttering open, locking onto the view in front of him, your pussy fluttering against his tongue. You frown, your fists balled against the sheets as Eddie holds your chin, directing your gaze onto the TV. “See how much she’s enjoying it?” Eddie purrs into your ear. “See how thankful she is to be getting fucked well?”

You grimace at his words, your body melting into their hold with each passing second— Steve can practically see your brain melting out of your ears. You make the prettiest noises, and you move like you don’t know if you want more or less, but Steve doesn’t give you a choice as he tugs you impossibly closer, taking you for all you are. Eddie kisses your neck, wet and sloppily, and you whine like you hate it, but Steve can feel you pulsing around his tongue. 

“You should be thankful too, princess.” Eddie drawls into your ear, his hands still working beneath your shirt. Steve can’t help it when he reaches up and yanks at the buttoned half of your shirt, groaning into your cunt when you gasp and squirm. The sight of your tits spilling into Eddie’s palms drives Steve’s hips into the bed once more, desperate for some sort of pressure. 

Steve pulls away with a gasp, sinking a finger into your cunt as he looks up at you, his swollen lips parted and wet with your slick. “Go ahead then, doll,” Steve nods at you, “Thank us.”

Your chest rattles with a sob, and Eddie grins as Steve coos, “Say it, princess. Thank us for taking care of your slutty holes.” He demands. You cry out then, legs trembling when Steve brushes against that perfect spot, teasing it to keep you away from that release that you crave.

“T-thank you,” you breathe, eyes squeezed shut, your body tensed as you wriggle between them. Eddie growls, gripping your face, gritting into your ear as he speaks, “For what? What are you thanking us for?”

You gasp as Eddie’s teeth drag along your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to hazily look at Steve between your thighs, moaning when he slips in another finger. Your voice is heavy in shame, but you’re too fucked to refuse it as you say, “T-thank you… for taking care of my s-slutty holes.”

Eddie smiles, “Good girl. Let her cum, Stevie, she’s been so good.”

Steve’s mouth is back on you in record time, lapping and sucking and pulling you closer and closer to the edge until you’re crying out a sob so loud that Eddie has to slap a hand over your mouth. Your hips rise off the bed, and Steve pins them back down, groaning into you as he keeps licking you, your thighs closing around his head. And Steve loves it; he loves the feeling of your cute little thigh-high socks scratching up against his ears and your warm, wet skin on his tongue. Steve thinks he could die here, really.

Eddie’s cooing in your ear, telling you how well you did, how much of a good girl you are, and his gaze snaps down to Steve’s when he pulls away from you with a gasp, wiping his mouth and liking his lips like a lion that’s just demolished its prey. Steve sort of feels like one, honestly.

Eddie grins up at Steve, his eyes falling to the evident tent in Steve’s pants when he rises to his feet. You’re barely cohesive when Eddie lightly slaps your cheek a few times, “Wake up, bunny, we’re not done with your holes yet.”

Your eyes are blurred with pleasure when you blink them open, and Steve presses a palm to his crotch. You blearily blink at him, and he nods, “Come here.”

And like an obedient dog, you peel away from Eddie’s arms, your clothes disheveled and twisted as you crawl over to Steve. He reaches out, his hand slinking into your hair to drag you up until he can smash his lips onto yours, a hungry growl rumbling from his chest. Steve knows he should be more gentle with you, you’re such a fragile little thing, but the feeling of power that surges through him when he tightens his grip on your hair and leads you off the bed is damn near like a drug. He wants it in his veins all the time. 

You stumble off the bed, your socked feet knocking against Steve’s— it’s so fucking cute, Steve nearly coos. “On your knees. Get on your knees.” He orders. And again, like you were programmed for this, you fall to your knees, your hazy eyes slowly blinking as Steve sits at the edge of the bed and tugs his pants down. You watch as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking a few times, his hand still stuck in your hair.

Steve’s voice is kinder than his touch when he asks, “You remember what to do, princess?” Nodding with you when you respond, “Good girl, go on. Show me how thankful you are for me.” He says, and you shuffle forward to take him in greedily and sloppy, Steve’s eyes nearly rolling.

You suck him just as you did the first time, though it’s a little bit better than before; Steve supposes you and Eddie have been practicing more than enough. Even though you’re tired from your orgasm and your actions are less calculated, Steve finds himself enjoying it as if you were a pro.

Steve’s groans and mumbles of praise get closer and more slurred, and he supposes it was easy to tell how close he was because Eddie, a presence he had tried (and failed miserably) to ignore, steps into view right behind you, looking down proudly at his perfect project.

Eddie’s gaze holds a devious glare when he locks eyes with Steve as he sinks to squat next to you. He coasts a hand up your back, his fingers firm but gentle when they grip the back of your neck, his gaze finally leaving Steve to watch as your mouth greedily takes Steve’s cock in and out. And Steve is so close, and his body is so hot that he almost misses what Eddie says to you when he leans in— but Steve hears it loud and clear, “Don’t swallow. I want you to keep his cum in your mouth and show me, do you understand?”

And god, you fucking whimper and nod as best as you can, and Steve is a goner. And Steve usually cums a lot, sure. Nancy hates it, says it’s an inconvenience, but god, you take it like it’s nothing but a gift. You sit there, tear-streaked face, droopy eyes, and an open shirt as Steve cums in heavy spurts, coating every inch of your mouth as he curses. It’s so much that some of it spills out the side of your mouth, and the little bit that dribbles from his cock when you pull away lands on your chin, and Steve can’t help but tap his sticky tip against it.

Steve watches, blissed out and panting, as Eddie turns your face towards him. “Let me see, open your mouth.” He says, grinning when your lips part to show the thick mess in your mouth. “Good bunny.” He lowly hums.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Eddie leans forward, drags his tongue along the spilled cum of your face to lap it up before pressing his lips onto yours. Steve hadn’t seen it coming. Not at all.

He didn’t expect that he would be watching Eddie Munson eat his cum off your face tonight. He can see his tongue dipping into your mouth, lewd noises emptying into the air as he pulls Steve’s cum from your mouth and into his own. Yeah, Steve really didn’t expect that. And he doesn’t expect to feel his cock twitch at the sight of it either.

It’s disgusting, is what it is. Disgusting and downright debauchery, but Steve can’t look away, not even when Eddie pulls away and turns to lick his lips while gazing at Steve, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips.

Eddie brings his thumb to wipe at the drop of cum that had been on the corner of his mouth before sucking it into his mouth— and Steve nearly cums again, and his cock throbs, and Eddie’s gaze flutters to see the way Steve’s dumb dick has filled with blood yet again. A small smirk rises on Eddie’s lips, and Steve can feel the heat rising in his cheeks— which is surprising, honestly, considering most of his blood is flooding downstairs. Eddie’s gaze flickers back to Steve’s wide eyes, and he finally says— “Not bad, Harrington.”

Steve nearly passes out.

What the fuck?

“Halloween is of pagan origin— therefore, we, as children of god, do not participate in any form of celebration on this day.” 

The week of Halloween has always brought an eerie feeling to you. Gorey movies and costumes of demons and distorted faces— it’s scary. Aside from the candy, you never understood why people loved the holiday so much. Your friends never understood your reasoning or why your parents would never in a million years agree to let you go trick or treating, but their judgment never bothered you enough to change your opinion.

The priest looks at the students, an unwavering expression of sincerity plastered on his face as he says, “Be wise with how you spend your time this weekend. There will be consequences for any of you who choose to participate in any activities pertaining to Halloween; am I understood?”

The room mumbles in agreement, as does yourself, and the priest nods before carrying on to close mass. Beside you, Nancy sits with her bible and journal in her lap; eyes cast forward on the priest. She’s been glancing over at Steve all night, watching him during prayer and nearly half of the service— you know this because you had been watching him right along with her, though your reasoning is not the same as hers.

Steve Harrington, star rugby player with his pretty brown eyes and honey-thick locks, was anything but kind when he pulled you aside before mass. He was greedy, possessive with his hold and grabby when he hiked your skirt up, pressed your face against the janitor's closet door, forced your thighs together, and rutted into them like a dog in heat. He had a rough practice, so he said. 

He apologized for being rough, said he didn’t mean it when he squeezed just a little too hard around your throat, and you all but sniffled and nodded and told him it was okay even though you were scared and your thighs now sting with friction burn. 

He had a tough day, and the least you could do was not make him feel bad about it. That being said, it doesn’t stop the stir of guilt that sat in your chest throughout mass. 

It’s hard not to feel guilty when your roommate's boyfriend's spend is sitting between your thighs, warm and squishy and tucked safely against your folds. It’s sickening, and it nearly makes you dizzy with shame. But Steve said it was okay, that friends do this thing, and Nancy understands; she would just rather not discuss it.

You could barely focus during mass, too busy trying to grasp what you and Steve had just done and trying desperately not to show it on your face. Despite your efforts, you can’t help but feel as if Nancy can see straight through you, and that’s why she's been watching him all night.

As soon as you’re dismissed, you begin working up the nerve to ask her, the words rolling around in your mind as you rise from your seat, but the second you turn to Nancy, she’s turning to go after Steve and you’re being tugged back by a firm hand.

“Where are you running off to, bunny? Don’t we have plans?”

You gaze up at Eddie, glancing over to watch as Nancy slinks out of the pew, and you nod, “Yes, but I—” “Then let’s go. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Eddie all but drags you out of the chapel, tugging you along and slipping past the dark courtyard to get to the back of the dormitory. Nobody ever supervises the back of the dormitories. Eddie told you to always come through this route; that way, you can get into his room without a hassle. 

The path is dark, nothing but the moon and Eddie’s firm hand to guide you, and you try to focus on anything else but the snap of twigs beneath your feet and the burn between your thighs. However, the only thing that comes up in your mind is Nancy. 

“Um, Eddie,” you speak up. 

“What’s up, bunny?”

“I think… I think I may have upset Nancy…” You frown.

Eddie slowly pauses, turning to look at you, lips pressed in a firm line as his eyebrows furrow. “Did you say something to her?” He asks.

He’s towering over you, the darkness swallowing you both, exaggerating his stance. You feel like you’re drowning beneath him, sinking into the mud beneath your feet as you hastily shake your head no.

Eddie is so hard to read in this dim lighting, though he’s never been all that easy to read anyway. You can still hear a slight tone of relief when he says, “Good.”

Eddie turns and pursues the path, leaving you with panic and a racing heart. You didn’t say anything to Nancy— you made sure of it after Steve specifically sat you down and said you could never bring it up. But then, why could she not look at you all through mass? Why does it seem… tense between her and Steve? Are you to blame? Did you do something that may have upset her? 

How do you even ask without revealing the open truth?

The questions swirl in your head like a storm, grey and murky as they slink down your throat and spill into your chest, spreading and laying out with a weight that makes you feel as if the world has just crashed on you. 

You don’t realize you’ve made it to Eddie’s room until a plastic bag is shoved in your hands. You gaze at it briefly, shiny material crinkling between your fingers as you blink and glance toward Eddie.

Eddie nods, “Put it on.”

You step over to Eddie’s bed, put the bag on the mattress, and open it up to pull out the items inside. It’s an outfit, three items to complete a set of what looks to be a bunny costume if the bunny ears are any indication. The only problem, though is the dress, the main piece of the outfit, is incredibly short.

“I can’t wear this.”

You hadn’t noticed, but Eddie was busy getting dressed on the other side of the room. You look over at him, taking in his all-black attire and heavily swallowing when he glances at your laid-out costume. 

“Why not?” He asks. 

You glance at the dress before looking back at him, gesturing down at it as if it’s obvious, “Because it’s revealing!” You exclaim. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and resumes putting on the rest of his clothes, a long black robe-looking thing, “No, it’s not.” He responds. 

Your eyes widen as you look at the short dress, “Eddie, I-I’m not sure this will even cover my entire backside.” You shake your head. And when you lift it and turn it around, you realize that it definitely won’t— at least not comfortably.

“You’ll be fine. Other girls will probably be wearing something worse.” He dismisses. 

Your teeth gnaw into the soft tissue of your lip as you put the dress back on the bed, eyeing it with worry and dread. It’s… gross. Degrading and immodest in every sense of the word, yet Eddie, your friend, is asking you to wear it. You glance over at him, your world spinning again as you realize what this entire plan is: the costume and the urgency to leave all make sense.

You drag in a shaky breath, slinking your arms around your body as you take a step back, “I think,” you clear your throat before speaking louder to get your point across, “I think I’m gonna head to my room… Maybe study a bit and go to bed…” You softly say.

You step toward the door, not even glancing Eddie’s way because you know if you do, you’ll be stuck trying to please him. But Eddie moves quicker than you can, his hand pressing against the wooden door to stop you from opening it. 

“The dress is fine, doll.”

Your gaze dances up his frame, miles of black leading to his dark brown eyes. You want to be strong, put your foot down, and tell him no, but your tongue is tied. As it always is when it comes to Eddie.

You softly say his name, and he tilts his head, an ice-cold glare stuck on your eyes, daring you to say something more. Gravity pulls on your lips and your eyes, water threatening to spill down your cheeks when Eddie lowly and steadily says, “Go put on the outfit.”

You want to cry.

You want to wail and kick and scream until Eddie has no choice but to let you run to your room and stay there until Monday morning. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to wear this costume you’ve been forced into, and you don’t understand why Eddie, who is supposed to be your friend, is being anything but friendly tonight. 

He doesn’t care that you didn’t want to wear the outfit. He doesn’t care that it’s revealing, that you feel uncomfortable, or that it’s hardly forty degrees outside and you’re shivering. He doesn’t care that you have to keep tugging the tiny dress down your thighs or that you’re practically stumbling over your feet with the heels he forced you to wear. And he doesn’t care to ask why your mascara is running when he looks over at you and wipes it away; he simply tells you that you look pretty, “Like a doll.”

You feel disoriented. Far from yourself and disgusted, and you can’t help the aching feeling in your chest when you think about how saddened your parents would be to see you like this. Half dressed in the middle of a Halloween party. They’d disown you, you’re sure of it.

Eddie’s hold is tight on you the whole night, whether on your hand, your waist, or his heavy hand resting on the back of your neck. He always has a hand on you. Oddly enough, Eddie’s touch seems to ground you despite how displaced you feel. It’s comforting to have something familiar while you struggle to grasp your morality. 

What are you doing here? How did you get here? Do you like this? Do you enjoy Eddie’s company enough to brave through this? 

You think you do.

The music is loud, and it’s packed with dancing bodies from wall to wall. You have to repeatedly tip the bunny ears on your head back into place from where they keep slipping, and you debate ripping it off every time. You can feel the bass of the music in your chest, the scent of liquor and smoke filling your lungs as neon lights dance across your eyes. 

Eddie has softened through the night. You’re not sure what had him wound up before, but he is back to doting on you, occasionally turning to you and brushing the skin under your eyes as his gaze softens and he asks if you’re okay. And you’re not. You’re cold and uncomfortable, and you want to go home, but Eddie’s touch is kind, so you find yourself nodding each time. And then he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, cool lips brushing against your skin, and returns to whatever he’s been doing all night. Stepping off into corners and sliding these bags to people in exchange for something you can’t quite see in the dim lighting of the house, but when you asked him, he told you not to worry about it. 

There’s a cup in your hands, a drink that Eddie gave you, which you have been slowly sipping for the better part of an hour. It’s sweet, almost too sweet, but there’s a bitter aftertaste that somehow balances it out enough for you to keep sipping on it. 

Eventually, you find yourself squirming with the need to pee, turning to Eddie and leaning up to reach his ear and tell him. He squeezes your hip, “I’ll be here, doll.” And you had hoped that Eddie would tag along with you for your safety and comfort, but he only turns back to the secretive conversation he’d been having.

You find yourself wandering up the stairs, eyes dancing around searching for a restroom. It’s just your luck that the first door you open happens to be one, empty and surprisingly clean for the chaos unfolding throughout the party. 

You try to be quick about it, eager to find your spot back next to Eddie, where you feel something along the lines of tolerable. You don’t miss the reflection of yourself in the mirror as you wash your hands, smudged mascara, taunting bunny ears, whorish clothing. You frown, tears pressing against your waterline as you gaze at yourself. 

Wrong. Open, unrecognizable, and wrong. 

Your shaky fingers grab at the bunny ears on your head, ripping them away and tossing them in the direction of the trash can, clattering to the floor in empty noise. 

After having a moment to breathe by yourself, you think you’ll ask Eddie to leave now, the pending urge to leave only growing stronger by the second.

You flip the bathroom light off and open the door, stepping out without looking, only to slam into a body. Apologies roll off your tongue as you stumble back, nearly falling from your stupid heels. Through your tears, you look up at the person, dressed in black and tall, face covered with a mask of black, distorted eyes, and a wide black mouth. 

You blink, stepping back as you mutter another apology, but they say nothing as they gaze down at you. Your heart races, fear seeping through you and staining like berries as you whip around and walk away— Eddie. Just get back to Eddie.

Unstable on stilts, you make your way back down the stairs and into the lion's den, crowded with drunk people dancing and talking, unmindful of where they go. And this house is big— too big. Big enough that when you glance around and realize you don’t know where you’re going, you start to feel even more panicked. 

Every corner is different yet the same:: dark lighting, flashing lights, and the music is too loud. You don’t know anybody here, and you don’t know your way back to Eddie. A glance over your shoulder and the panic amps to the nines as you realize the masked man is just a few feet away from you.

Is he following you? Why is he following you?

Fear runs through you like a freight train. Your feet carry you faster, weaving through people as your weary gaze jumps from corner to corner. Masked figures, blood, and distorted faces meet you at every turn. You never liked Halloween; you think you hate it now.

Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and you’re scared. Every place you turn is empty of your relief, and every glance back is full of fear. And you don’t feel good. You feel sick. Detached from your hands and feet yet so stuck in the walls of your skin— where is Eddie?

Tears are streaming down your face, but you hardly feel them as you pace towards the sight of a door. You don’t look back anymore, too afraid to see the gaping face of a void staring back at you, waiting to eat you alive— the hungry wolf and the weak lamb— just as Eddie had said.

The clearing of the front door is near, and your legs hardly feel real. You should’ve never come here. You should’ve never put on this outfit. You should’ve never gone out on your own and lost Eddie. You are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and you’re scared.

And just as you come within a few feet of the door, a hand grabs your arm, and you jolt, pushing away until that familiar voice rings in your ear— “Hey, it’s me. It’s just me, where are you—” 

You throw yourself into Eddie’s arms, tears falling in droves as you sob into his chest. Eddie’s embrace is like a nest— a warm, carefully crafted, and woven nest made to hold you and keep you safe. You should’ve never left his side.

His hand gently holds your head, soft coos seeping into your ear as he asks, “What’s wrong, bunny? What happened?”

You cry, body trembling in his hold as you try to piece your words together, “I-I couldn’t find you and somebody— that guy w-was following me,” you cry.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What guy?”

Your words come out in choked sobs, a shaky finger lifting past Eddie’s shoulder, “T-the guy in the mask!” You stress. 

Eddie turns, looking in the direction of your finger, confusion and something else etched across his face when he turns to you, “…There’s a lot of masked people here, bunny; you’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.” He says.

You cry, disoriented and confused because the man is nowhere in sight. Eddie guides you outside with a gentle hand on your back, softly cooing as you sob. The air is cold and sharp against your barely covered skin, but you hardly feel it. 

You’d been spinning all night, around and around in a foggy cloud of discomfort, and the crash hurts more than the fall. But Eddie is here. He is here, and he’s holding you, and he’s wiping your tears, and asking you to breathe, “Tell me what happened, doll. Describe the guy.”

And through wracked sobs and shaky words, you describe what you saw: black cape, white mask, two big black eyes, and a gaping mouth. Hungry and ready to devour you. 

“Woah, what the fuck happened?” 

It’s Nancy; you know it’s Nancy despite your inability to see straight. She steps into frame, a gentle hand on your arm as she looks at your distraught face. Not far behind her stands Steve, a look of concern on his face.

“Some fuckin’ creep was following her,” Eddie mutters.

Your breaths come in shaky gasps, trembling hands coming up to wipe at your wet eyes. You try to speak, but your words hardly make sense, so Nancy softly coos and tells you to calm down.

Another flow of tears fall, and you only want to wrap yourself back in Eddie’s arms. 

“And where were you?” Steve snaps.

Eddie looks at Steve, expression unreadable when he replies, “She went to the restroom.”

“And you didn’t go with her?” Steve prods. 

Nancy consoles you, wiping your tears and telling you you’re okay as Steve and Eddie bicker over things you can hardly manage to wrap your head around. Finally, Nancy turns to them, “Would you two shut up? It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get her home; I think we’ve all had enough of tonight.” She snaps.

And even though you’re upset that Nancy has taken you from your source of comfort, you’re glad she leaves no room for debate. Nancy leads you down the steps of the house and you catch a glimpse of Eddie and think tomorrow you’ll have to apologize for ruining the night. For losing him and making a scene of your own mistake. 

As you fall asleep later, you can’t help the few tears that slip down your face and drop onto your pillow as you all but hope Eddie can forgive you.

Steve’s had a rough weekend. 

What started with a small disagreement with Nancy over his schedule with rugby has spiraled into Nancy completely ignoring him. On top of that, Steve is furious with Eddie’s mistake of not protecting you, and Eddie doesn’t seem to care. And as if that’s not enough, rugby finals are just around the corner, and Steve’s team is falling short to fucking play like they mean it.

Steve woke up with a headache, a sign that today would be just as rough as the night before, where Steve spent the better part of an hour with his father nagging him over the phone. Steve’s not sure what his father wants from him: a college degree or someone to run his company— either way, he won’t get both.

So, with a pounding head and a deep sigh, Steve got out of bed and began his game day rituals.

Morning run, shower, finish assignments, roll out that stubborn muscle in his thigh, and head down to the field.

Practice runs short, as it always does on game day. Steve doesn’t want to waste any energy his players can use on the field, so he lets them off the hook earlier with a warning to not do anything stupid. 

And usually, by the time the game is about to start, Steve is pumped and ready to win; he talks up a big game to his players and riles them up. But today, Steve is merely a silent brewing storm. He’s tense. There’s a chip on his shoulder, and he can’t fucking reach it, and he doesn’t even know where to begin to figure it out. 

Because the truth is, Steve loves Nancy. And he wants you. And he wants to be the perfect son. And he wants to win every game. He wants, he wants, he wants. But how much of it can he actually get?

Midway through the game, Steve’s team is down by enough to put him in a bad mood. His storm is pushing and pulling, churning in dark clouds on the sidelines as he watches his team play like shit. Steve isn’t even here, he thinks. He’s somewhere else. Somewhere between space and the busy thoughts in his head.

And as if the other team making another score isn’t enough, Steve suddenly hears your name tumbling from the lips of another teammate— “Did you see her on Friday? I had a feeling that innocent shit was all an act— she probably fucks like she gets paid for it.”

And Steve bites so hard into his tongue that he tastes metal. Warm and bitter, inking across his tongue like spilled milk.

He shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t. Not when Nancy is already on his back, asking about his whereabouts and throwing fits over nothing— because the guys talk. They’ll open their mouths for any pair of walking tits, and Steve can’t afford that. Not now. He doesn’t need it.

But then— “Wait— Harrington, isn’t your girlfriend roommates with her?”

Steve glances at the two boys, snickering like thieves, enjoying the taste of berating you on their tongues. Steve can hardly hold back the snarl on his face when he looks at them and replies, “No.” Stiff and quick.

Noel, the boy who’d made the comment about you, is now sitting right next to Steve and looking at him in confusion, “But they’re friends, right? I see them together all the time.” He points out. 

Steve can’t deny that because it’s true. You and Nancy hang out on campus often, so he curtly nods, “Yeah. They’re friends.”

Noel hums, spreading his thighs to take up space as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He looks at Steve and tilts his head as if he’s thinking, which Steve is sure he can’t even do, “So, can you confirm or deny that she’s more of a slut than she lets on.”

Steve looks at Noel, imagining his hands wrapped around his neck as his face twists in distaste, “She’s not a slut.”

Noel scoffs around a laugh, “Sure as hell dressed like one the other night.” he snickers, nudging his other snickering friend, Barry. They laugh as if it’s funny, making a snide comment about how your ass looked in your dress. Steve’s tongue is nearly bitten off. 

“That doesn’t make her a slut.” Steve snaps.

Noel and Barry glance at each other, and laugh in disbelief, “Relax, Harrington. No one’s gonna tell Nancy you cracked a joke about how hot her roommate is.” Barry teases.

Steve doesn’t say anything; just rolls his eyes and glares back at the game. But Noel is nothing if not a fucking test of patience. Steve never liked Noel, and honestly, if he weren’t a good stand-off player, Steve would’ve written him off long ago.

“Think you could put in a word for me, man?”

Steve doesn’t bother looking at Noel as he snaps, “No, dude. Fuck off.”

Noel nudges Steve as if pushing him closer to the line Steve has been dancing on all weekend, “Come on dude, quit being so uptight, it’s just pussy.”

Just pussy. 

Steve doesn’t know what snaps in him, but the second he hears it— just pussy— he hardly thinks twice before standing and curling his fists into Noel's jersey to throw him down off the bench.

“What the fuck—“

Steve steps over him, reaches down to grip the front of his jersey, and pulls him up, anger pumping through him in droves as he glares down at the boy and snaps, “Say one more thing about her.” 

Barry, Noel’s knight in shining armor, steps in and grips Steve’s shoulder, pulling him off his friend and shoving at his chest. He sizes Steve up, face twisted in annoyance as he seethes, “Dude— calm the fuck down.”

Steve shoves the boy off of him, “Fuck you.” He snaps. Steve steps up to him, “You wanna know a real slut, Barry? Ask your sister, I fucked her.” He spits. 

The words slip out easily like water, inky black with leeches to stick to skin and drain his veins— and it fucking works because not a second passes before a fist drives into Steve’s face, blood pooling in his mouth like an open dam. It rings loudly and echoing, with radio static in his ears. Steve can hardly hear his coach yelling, marching over to grab Steve off of Barry.

Steve doesn’t feel the pain in his hand, but he will once the adrenaline wears off, his knuckles tapped from the hard bone of Barry’s cheek. He doesn’t even remember punching him. 

The coach shoves Steve in the opposite direction of Barry, frustration in every vowel of his words as he spits out, “You’re out, Harrington!”

Steve doesn’t fucking care. He doesn’t care to be thrown out of the game, hell they were gonna lose anyway. He doesn’t care that he’s the captain and should be setting an example— Steve doesn’t care. He’s pissed off, and he can hardly think straight as he storms off the field. 

Steve’s storm is windy and brutal, the anger so hot in his throat that he can barely swallow. Steve will regret what he did later; he knows he will, but how could he sit there and let them talk about you like that and not do something? 

You, who is so kind and caring to assholes that don’t deserve a second of your attention. You, who has never made yourself a problem yet has been picked on since you’ve come to All Saints. You, who hardly knows right from wrong— because Steve is so, so, so wrong, and still you look at him with these soft, doe eyes that make Steve want to scream and cry simultaneously. You, who Steve thinks about as he falls asleep next to his girlfriend. 

How could anybody speak lowly of you?

You’re worth every bit of regret Steve will face, he thinks. No matter how clouded his judgment is.

There’s blood in his mouth, and dull aching in his jaw that will soon become a throbbing pain, and one would think Steve has had enough fights for the night, but that switch is suddenly flipped yet again when a voice comes from a few feet away— “Rough night, Harrington?”

The locker room is just steps away, and the noise of the losing game is now distant. Across the carpool lane stands Eddie, a cigarette burning between his fingers as the city light dances across his figure. He looks so stupid, standing there like a shadow, taunting Steve as if this is some sort of joke to him.

Steve gazes at Eddie, watching as he brings the cigarette up to his lips, talking around a cloud of smoke when he adds, “You look like shit.”

Shaky breaths, radio static, warm metal. City light, cigarette smoke, stupid fucking shadow.

Steve’s jaw aches when he clenches his teeth before speaking, “Are you following me?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to follow you?”

Annoying. So fucking annoying, that’s all Eddie has ever been. An annoying asshole with something smart to always say.

“Why would I want you to follow me?”

Eddie shrugs, a hand in his pocket, “Some people like that shit.” He says.

Steve stalks over, unbridled anger in each step as he draws closer to Eddie. He sneers as he glares at Eddie, “The fuck is your problem?” He snaps.

Eddie blinks, brown eyes gazing at Steve as he responds, “I don’t have a problem.”

“Then quit being so fucking weird.” Steve spats, face twisted in disgust. 

Eddie raises an uninterested eyebrow, “Wasn’t aware I was.” He coolly replies. 

Steve’s fingers curl into his palm, an angry fist against his side as he glares at the boy before him. Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s fist, lips ticking up in a small smile as his gaze flickers back to Steve’s.

Steve’s face grows hot in anger. He leans in, venom on his tongue when he spats at Eddie, “Fuck you.”

Eddie, like the asshole he is, gets a glint in his eye as he quickly whips back, “Thank you.” As if nothing ever bothers him. Steve sometimes wonders if Eddie knows how to bleed. Does he know how to respond to a punch? A kick? A bite? Steve’s not so sure that he does. 

Steve decides spending another second on Eddie would be a waste, so he turns on and walks away. He’s still hot with anger, still tasting blood in his mouth, still thinking about those assholes on the turf, still thinking about the asshole a few feet away from that knows how he tastes.

“And just so you know,” Steve whips around, storming up to Eddie again. Eddie’s gaze flickers back to Steve, tilting his head in interest. Steve feels a feeling he’s never felt before brewing in his chest— a deep anger that he’s never tasted and comes up sharp on his tongue.

“I’m not fucking gay.” Steve spits.

Eddie blinks and nods once, “Okay.” 

Steve looks at Eddie, the other boys sharp features glowing under the lamplight as he says, “So don’t do that shit again.” 

Eddie looks at Steve, stoic expression plastered across his face before he tilts his head, “Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He says, voice low and gravely.

Steve’s blood boils. His fists clench by his sides, and he ticks his jaw, pain rising from the punch he’d taken not too long ago, “Fuck you,” he says, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Eddie’s eyes have an annoying glint when he responds, “Seemed like you enjoyed it, Harrington.” He says beneath a subtle smirk. Steve steps forward, fists curling into the leather of Eddie’s jacket as he leans in and seethes, “You’re fucking disgusting. Try pulling that shit again, and I won’t hesitate to fucking kill you.”

Eddie smirks, brown eyes dancing over Steve’s face, a halo of warm light around his curly hair. Eddie’s voice is like hot honey, “That a threat or a promise, captain?” 

“That’s a fucking promise.”

Brown pools of earth swirling like a whirlpool stare into Steve’s eyes. Smoke and cheap cologne, hairspray, leather. Steve’s anger is so loudly rushing through his veins he can hear it, flooding through his ears like a river. 

Steve is in the eye of the storm. The wind is still, the air is crisp, and the light overhead flickers.

Steve doesn’t know how it happens. He doesn’t know who invades whose space, but the taste of his blood mixes with the taste of cigarette smoke, dull with mint and spit. Eddie’s lips are warm and rough because Eddie needs some fucking chapstick, but Steve doesn’t complain. He can’t. Not when Eddie’s dipping his tongue into his mouth and tasting his blood, humming like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. 

Steve’s knuckles are tight in Eddie’s jacket, short nails carving into the leather. Eddie’s tongue is like a curious snake, running over Steve’s tongue, dipping through the valleys and ridges of his teeth, licking over his palate. Eddie’s tongue slinks back into his own mouth, his lips curving against Steve’s lips as his cold fingers brush against Steve’s hips— and suddenly, the winds are picking up, and Steve shoves at the curly-haired boy, stepping away with a heaving chest as he glares at the boy.

Eddie’s lips are tainted a faint red, brown eyes bright yet gloomy as they gaze at Steve. Steve grimaces as he wipes his mouth, spitting out blood onto the concrete as if Eddie’s spit is the worst thing he’s ever tasted. 

Eddie smiles, looks at Steve like he can see right through him, and Steve fucking hates it. Steve turns, body thrumming in some sort of sick and twisted adrenaline, eyes cast ahead of him as he marches toward the door of the locker room.

“By the way, Steve,” Eddie calls out behind him, “It was me.”

Fuck him. Fuck him and fuck everything that he says and does— Steve hates that every word Eddie says leaves him questioning, hanging, wanting more. Steve turns and glares at Eddie, vitriol in his voice as he spits out, “The fuck are you talking about?”

Eddie’s lips tip in a smile, boot-clad feet clicking against the cement as he stalks over to Steve, “The guy following her. It was me.” He shrugs.

Steve looks at Eddie, dancing over his face, looking for a crack in his expression— he finds none. Steve feels… he feels stupid. Stupid for being blind to the little game Eddie is so easily playing, puppeteering you and him with an expertise that makes Steve wonder— how many times has he done this? How many people?

Steve spent the whole weekend churning in anger, only to be told it was Eddie the entire time. He feels naive and dumb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Eddie snickers with a shrug, stopping in front of Steve, “Made it more entertaining.”

Steve swears he feels Eddie’s lips on his, and if it weren’t for the sight of them splitting into a shit-eating grin, he’d believe they were still pressed against that lamppost, swapping spit and blood.

“Fuck you.” Steve spits.

Eddie’s smile smears in Steve’s vision as he turns his back to him and walks toward the building, heart racing in his chest and bile churning in his stomach.

Eddie’s voice rings in his ears as Steve opens the locker room door, “Goodnight, Harrington.”

Steve hardly sleeps that night.

part four.

freaky lil cutie taglist: @gnrquinn @otterpop13 @sirensleepingsoundly @hugdealer @poppyseed018 @your-nightmaredoll @daysinthephoenix @chaiflvrd @daisy-munson @amira0303 @kellsck @eddiesguitarskills @peaches-roses-sins @ohmeg

@tellmealovestory @munsonsbtch @freak-of-hawkins @darknesseddiem @urdadsnewgiirlfriend @6ix9inewiturmom @shamelessandahs @subconsciouscollapse @sidthedollface2 @literalangels @tlclick73 @yarafae @lemme-slytherin-that-dick

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@ratsematary @qtheressurections

a/n: HI HI HIIII !!! first of all, i am so incredibly sorry for how delayed this chapter was, i truly hope you guys even remember this story *cries*, either way, thank you for being so patient <33 this chappy was all about stevie battling his demons (bisexuality) soooo, not much established, but we're getting to the action very soon I promise!!

if you made it this far, thank u so much for reading, any and all feedback is appreciated and loved <3 I hope you all have a wonderful 2025 and stay safe; and as always, thank u and i love you always!!

[lost-romantique]

The Needs of Both these Messy Gays~

I just want to make a point and state that I'm not attacking or pitting both these guys against each other. They're dumbasses, the both of them.

Blitz is someone that is going to need constant reassurance when he's in a relationship.

Being told the words "I love you" scares the fuck out of him because he doesn't trust those words of love.

At the same time, romantic gestures don't work on him because he's always going to assume the worst.

"And then, he'll call me to see how my day was! And he'll pretend to care about me, and comment on my photos, and LAUGH AT MY JOKES—"

Blitz is someone that has used his body and sex as a way to get what he wants. But his relationship to sex is one of the reasons why he's unable to trust those romantic gestures.

Blitz constantly seeks reassurance, and he asks Stolas for that reassurance a LOT throughout Full Moon and Apology Tour...

"Am I not, like, fucking you good enough? Because I-I can always- I can always do better--"

Blitz immediately asks Stolas for reassurance that he's good enough, and that if he isn't good enough, he makes it a point to tell Stolas that he can do better.

Stolas responds to Blitz saying he cares very deeply for him, but being told he's cared about doesn't give him the reassurance he needs.

Blitz asks for reassurance twice from Stolas in Apology Tour...

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?"

"Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even know why you would want to be with me."

Stolas never says anything really wrong in his responses to Blitz, and I think Blitz himself needed to here that. BUT if Stolas were to make one mistake, it would be that he states that he wants somebody / anybody.

Blitz doesn't reach out to Stolas because of his issues in intimacy, and because Blitz himself hasn’t been given the reassurance that he's the one Stolas wants.

Do you know who does give Blitz the reassurance that he's needed? Millie.

Millie is able to give concrete examples to Blitz on how he made an impact on her life.

In fact, Millie states that Blitz is the reason that everything she has in her life is thanks to him being unapologetically himself.

"He gave me so much: a career, a husband, a future, and now... he's my best friend."

The moment Millie gives Blitz the example of how much she values him as a person and as a friend, Blitz immediately asks for reassurance...

"You... you don’t hate me?"

And Millie automatically says, "Nah, never."

The moment Blitz is given the reassurance that he isn't hated by Millie, he opens up, he becomes vulnerable.

Blitz allows Millie to comfort him, and Blitz initiates that intimacy with Millie to which she obliges.

What's beautiful about this exchange is that there isn't anything remotely sexual about it. This is just one friend comforting another friend in need.

Blitz asks for reassurance again in the form of a question...

And the moment Millie reaffirms that sentiment, Blitz opens up and shows Millie the real him.

Not the fuckboy facade, not the mask he wears... this is the REAL Blitz...

Blitz also shows incredible growth by not deflecting to jokes like he usually does, but instead by being honest with Millie...

Blitz promises to Millie that he'll stop impeding on her marriage

Blitz states in the most subtle way that he has feelings for Stolas

Stolas needs to be told that he's cared for and that he's loved by someone.

He's also someone that seeks romantic affection in the form of compliments, and big and small romantic gestures mean the world to him as well.

Blitz unknowingly makes Stolas’s romantic fantasies come true...

A rogue assassin comes into his bedroom to "scale the walls" and he acts like he wants Stolas a lot.

This man is attractive, he is literally the protagonist of a romance novel. His boldness and confidence is alluring. He is a dream come true and he's here to take what's his.

This man just literally sweeps Stolas off his feet, and he still does this while giving you the most smug grin.

Blitz throws Stolas to the bed, and gives him ultimate rizz in the form of this shit eating grin.

And the moment Blitz bites his neck, Stolas is so fucking into it he creams himself.

Blitz is so good actually, extremely good in being bold, confident, and sexy. He knows how to unravel Stolas. *cough*

In fact, the moment Blitz catches him, Stolas is smitten and he is down bad.

To Stolas, this is a big romantic gesture. This is a motherfucking dream come true for Stolas because, "OMG THIS HOT ASS MAN JUST FUCKING SAVED ME!"

But Blitz isn't a romantic, he's not good at showing romantic affection in small ways, and that's what screws him over.

Stolas wants and actively seeks the smallest bit of reassurance and comfort that Blitz can provide, whether it be through text and or in other small ways.

This motherfucking birb, this dumbass Prince, even when he has every right to be angry at Blitz for the shit he said to him, still wants Blitz to hold him. In fact, he makes him hold him.

Stolas is so fucking cute, being all like, "I'm mad at you, but I still demand you hold me."

"You wanna know what I want? I want to know what it's like, to not be alone. I want to be someone's someone. I want to feel wanted. But like, in a romantic way, like I'm standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting: “Harriet! Don’t get on that train, it’s going to London and I cannot be without you!”

Harriet the Train is a big romantic gesture. Stolas likes big romantic gestures, and Blitz is really good at doing actions that are big and bold.

Blitz has made Stolas feel wanted in The Circus and he makes him feel protected in Seeing Stars. Blitz knows how to be big.

Stolas doesn't need Blitz to perform Harriet the Train, but can he? Oh fuck yes he can.

"The point is, I just... want someone to care if I stay or go. I want someone to want... me! To want to see me. To hold me. To look at me and think "You're the only one I want!" [sheds tears] "I desire to hold you and talk to you, and never let you feel so..."

This is what Stolas wants from someone right now. He wants to feel wanted in the small ways, he wants to be held, he wants someone to talk to him, to make him feel not so alone.

Right now, at this very moment, Stolas needs the small stuff. He needs the small bits of intimacy that Blitz is not in the right headspace to provide in Apology Tour.

Do you know who gives Stolas what he needs at the moment? Better than Blitzo guy.

He's smooth and charming in a different way from Blitz. He doesn't even look at Blitz, actually, his eyes are only on Stolas.

"Great song earlier. You have great pipes."

He compliments Stolas on his singing, and Stolas is happy to be given a compliment.

BTB than asks Stolas to dance, and Stolas is both surprised and in disbelief.

Stolas is so happy and genuinely has an amazing time dancing with BTB, he even goes out of his way to use his wings to give Stolas a spin.

BTB even performs a big romantic gesture of pulling Stolas into a sloppy wet kiss, to which Stolas happily reciprocates.

I think both these idiots have the potential to be what the other really needs, and I honestly think with proper communication they can have the most beautiful relationship.

[ghostgirl-22]

Hi! <3 You’re like my favorite writer for Artrick! I swear you characterize them perfectlyyy

I keep thinking about the idea of Art and Patrick going on a date when he’s at Stanford. Like obviously Art wouldn’t admit it’s a date, but I imagine it’s after Art reluctantly admits that he wants to hang with Patrick alone when he comes to visit and that he’s a bit jealous of Tashi. So they basically have an unofficial date night. How do you think this would go, and how would Art go about initiating something physical between them because he’s obviously not gay right?

Okay but you’re actually such an amazingly talented writer and I love your stuff so much! Thanks so much for this request I honestly don’t think I did this ask justice and I’m sorry it was so long but I hope this attempt brings you some amusement <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! 3.8kish words

—-

It’s not that Art is jealous. He’s not jealous. He’s not. But up until now Patrick’s always called him and stopped by on his little trips to Stanford. It’s not like he expects Patrick to stay long, he knows he’s not the main event… but he at least expects him to come by.

So when Patrick shows up at his door three days later, asking if he can stay in Art’s room, Art tries his best not to express his irritation that he hasn’t once come by his room till now. And it really stings because Art knows the only reason he’s here now is because of the limit on how many days he can consecutively “visit” her dorm.

“You’re saving me man,” Patrick says, patting his arm as he drops his duffle on Art’s designated chair full of stuff.

Art shrugs. “Yeah well. Happy to be an afterthought.” He mumbles.

Patrick raises his eyebrows and then gives him a crooked smile. “You are never an afterthought.”

“It’s fine,” Art says, already embarrassed that he brought it up. “You’re dating Tashi Duncan. It’s totally understandable dude.” He tries to sound nonchalant, hopeful that it’s how he comes across. He feels like he spends so much time these days swallowing down on feelings. Feelings he can’t name, feelings he doesn’t even really understand. None of them jealousy. He’s really not jealous.

He does often wonder what they do alone. He thinks about what they do in bed since the most he really knows is that they’re fucking. He knows Patrick calls her all the time because he doesn’t really call Art that much anymore. They used to sit on the phone for hours, barely talking or talking too much, sometimes till late in the night. The same way they did when they were sharing a room in high school. But gradually it became, Patrick leaving the call earlier and earlier. To Patrick not really calling that often at all.

“You know, you can help me with something actually,” Patrick says, flopping onto Arts bed.

“What?”

“I’m taking her on a date tonight, we’re going to get dinner and see a movie.”

“Oh,” Art says. “What movie?”

“The new Saw movie. What number are they on now? 11?” Patrick laughs.

“Oh I didn’t know she’d like something like that,” Art says carefully.

”Yeah well, she saw the first one and she said liked it. She never got around to the others. I asked her if she’d be scared to see it but she said even if she was… she wouldn’t mind being scared if I was there. Isn’t that kinda… hot?”

Art shrugs again, swallowing it down.

”Sorry, is this hard to hear?” Patrick asks, patting his cheek.

“Fuck off,” Art mutters. “I’m just… I’m thinking about my game on Sunday. I’m not really worried about your relationship actually.” He lies.

“Good cause I was just gonna ask for your advice on what to wear. She tends to dress up for this kinda thing and I don’t want her to be annoyed if I show up in shorts and a t-shirt again.”

“You want me to help you pick out an outfit?”

“Yeah… you’re always put together,” Patrick says.

“All your clothes are tailored. Just pick something.” Art says, dryly.

“Okay but I want to wear something comfortable. Not something that makes me look like I’m about to donate a hefty sum at some stuffy fundraiser.”

Art sighs, “fine what’d you bring? Lay it out.”

Patrick empties his duffle on the bed, everything he has that isn’t training gear, playing gear and t-shirts is all wrinkled but Art has an iron. He helps Patrick pick something out. He’s still irritated, but he thinks he covers it well.

He’s actually stunned by how happy it makes him when Tashi calls and says she has to cancel. She does kids tennis lessons for extra spending money and a client wanted her help to prep for a game in the early morning.

Patrick’s talking to her, his tone understanding making her feel better about canceling last minute and promising to see the movie another time. He’s such a good boyfriend. It’s so weird that he’s not fucked it up by now. Art can’t remember Patrick ever dating anyone this long before.

Art’s sitting on his bed, back up against the wall, kicking his feet over the edge, listening to him.

“Sorry man, you’re stuck with me all night,” Patrick says after he hangs up. He knees the bed and sinks into it, settling down and leaning close to Art, he picks up his half ironed slacks and frowns.

“Mm… why don’t we go out?” Art suggests.

Patrick laughs and so does Art, feeling himself beginning to flush.

“Or… I mean… we could just hang out. Watch Hell’s Kitchen or something,” Art says quickly. He looks up when Patrick doesn't reply and Patrick is staring at him, a peculiar look on his face.

“Fuck it, let’s go out.” Patrick smirks. “You can be my date.”

“Yeah? Why not?” Art smiles. “I mean who says two friends can’t go out for dinner and a movie.”

Patrick laughs a bit, his expression flitting quickly between amusement and something Art can’t recognize. “Mm right. Platonic date night. Here we come. You have something nice right?”

”Yeah,” Art says. “I can wear that one shirt I wore to the awards dinner last year.”

“Oh yeah, you look so hot in blue, wear that,” Patrick teases.

“Shut up,” Art smirks, ignoring the weird feeling that blossoms in his chest after Patrick calls him hot.

They get dressed. Patrick’s clothes fit him so well. He’s in an outfit that might read as casual (fitted t-shirt, slacks, and a blazer) if not for the simple elegance of it all being quietly wealthy.

He’s also got a great body and anything fitted on him is going to bring that out. Art doesn’t think about his body often or anything like that, it’s just something he notices. The sky is blue, water is wet and Patrick Zweig has a great body. It just is.

They go to the movies first. “I prefer that when I go out on a date, so we have something to talk about over dinner or drinks,” Patrick explains as he drives them over to the theater in his jeep. “You know in case the date is boring. Not that that’s ever the case with Tashi. Actually, you know what’s crazy? I feel like she’s as easy for me to talk to as you are.”

“Hm,” Art says, swallowing down on something bitter in his throat. “Well I think you should try to find a balance. Talk to other people. You don’t want to scare her away by only ever talking to her.”

“Oh is that what you think?” Patrick says, smirking. “I don’t only talk to her actually. I’ve just got a lot of pressure on me. The only time I get a chance to rest I’m so exhausted— I got one phone call in me and so you know…”

“Oh,” Art says. “Well yeah I guess that makes sense.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Patrick asks.

“Mm, I mean… I think I might be interested in this girl on the team. She’s really good.” Art lies. He’s not really interested in anyone and he’s probably wasting his time, thinking more about Patrick and Tashi than he spends thinking about his own social life. He wants her so bad unfortunately every other girl he meets just pales in comparison.

—-

They’re actually on the 4th Saw movie, and it’s as stupid as Art might have expected. They laugh about it over dinner at Applebees. Patrick’s got this pretty realistic looking fake id so he orders a drink and they split it when the waitress isn’t looking. Not that she cares, she’s also a Stanford student. She’s been to a few tennis games to watch Tashi play but she knows Art is the number one singles player on the men’s team.

“You’re really good,” she smiles at him and he can feel his skin flushing as Patrick grins at him from across the table.

”Thanks uh— but Patrick actually plays professionally.” Art says.

“That’s so cool,” she says, she smiles at Patrick and then looks back at Art. “I would love to learn to just hit the ball over the net.” She laughs.

”He can teach you that easy,” Patrick says. Art kicks him under the table and he just grins wider.

“Can you really?” The waitress asks, flipping her pretty blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Yeah I mean… whenever,” Art says, awkwardly.

“Cool, I’ll be back. You guys want anything else?”

Patrick gives Art a meaningful look and then orders a second drink.

“When were you gonna tell me you got number one singles?” Patrick asks, watching her as she walks away.

“I figured Tashi told you,” Art says.

“Yeah but you should have told me,” Patrick says. “She’s hot right?” He adds, gesturing back towards the waitress.

“I mean… I can tell her you think she’s hot,” Art says. “I don’t think she believes you’re actually dating Tashi anyway.”

Patrick laughs, “God you’re such a dick. I meant for you. That would be a fun night.”

“I guess,” Art says, rubbing his palms on his lap. It’s all he has to say for Patrick to keep teasing him throughout the rest of the night, getting her to come back over and flirt with Art. He orders more and more drinks which she happily brings over.

In spite of the teasing, it’s actually really fun. Of course Art has been to movies with Patrick before, even gone out to dinner with him and their friends or family before, but this feels different. Art can’t figure out why… maybe because he gets to be in Tashi’s place. Maybe because it feels like old times.

They probably spend two and half hours in Applebees talking about the movie, high school, tennis, their parents, video games, girls and anything else that pops into their heads. They only leave because its 12 am and the restaurant’s closing. By then they’ve split a total of six cocktails and Art is feeling so tipsy.

“How much is it?” He asks when the waitress brings the bill.

“I’ll take care of it,” Patrick says.

“Dude it’s okay we can split,” Art says.

“No relax, it’s our platonic date night, right?” Patrick pulls out his credit card. “I can give you this though.”

He hands Art the non singable copy of the receipt and on the bottom the waitress left a note: For whenever you decide to teach me how to serve, Jenny. Followed by her phone number and a heart.

“She drew a heart and everything,” Patrick teases.

”It’s for you,” Art says, shyly.

“It’s so clearly for you, Stanford boy,” Patrick smirks.

“We probably have to take a cab home,” Art hiccups. Changing the subject. He does slip the receipt into his jeans pocket though.

“Oh yeah,” Patrick says. “You’re so responsible by the way. I love that about you.”

Art snorts a laugh and Patrick starts laughing too. Patrick leaves a big tip and they call a cab. Art promises to come back with him to pick up his jeep in the morning and they share a cigarette while waiting for the cab. When it arrives they hop in the backseat for the 25 minute ride back to campus.

Art’s feeling sleepy, the combination of food, alcohol and a long car ride is lethal for him. He closes his eyes, head slipping to settle on Patrick’s shoulder. Distantly, he feels Patrick rest a hand on his thigh and he opens his eyes, suddenly wide awake. It should be a nothing feeling but Art goes rigid, he feels it all up and down his spine and even worse, his cock starts to wake up.

“Did you have fun?” Patrick asks, quietly.

“Yeah,” Art says, he stares at the meter on the cab. He feels so dizzy and confused as Patrick’s fingers play a light pitter patter along his thigh.

“I’m sorry I’m not… free all the time. Like in high school, you know?” His voice is soft, Art can almost feel the vibration of it from where he’s leaning. He can feel Patrick’s breath on his cheek. It makes no sense the way his body is reacting. Maybe he’s drunker than he thought.

“Uh,” Art sits up. “Don’t worry about it. We’re both um— busy.”

“I know,” Patrick says, he’s still playing the pattern on Art’s thigh. “But I feel like I’ve been neglecting you.”

Art feels anxious, he looks up front, he can see the driver glancing back at them in the rear view. “Look… obviously your girlfriend comes first. We can do bro stuff whenever…” Art says as he gently eases Patrick’s hand off his thigh even though it feels nice. His heart is racing like he’s running some kind of marathon he doesn’t know why but it’s probably just the drinks. All the alcohol making his head all fuzzy.

“Yeah,” Patrick sighs. “Bro stuff.” He rests his head against the back of the seat and they’re mostly quiet for the rest of the ride. Arts mind is racing. All he can think about is how close they are but how much it feels like something is slipping away.

The halls are mostly empty as they get back to the dorm. There’s a few students still up. A couple talking softly to each other. One girl on the floor with her headphones plugged in watching something on her laptop. Some guy exits his room, talking on his cellphone as he breezes past them.

“You think I can sneak back to her room or no?” Patrick asks, one arm resting on the door frame as Art leans in to unlock his room.

Art feels his heart still beating oddly fast, probably because Patrick is right behind him. He’s never been able to manage personal space as long as they’ve been friends but right now Art is just so… aware of him. “You can stay here. It’s just one night. I’ll even let you have the bed all to yourself.” Art says.

“It’d be two nights. I leave on Sunday.”

“Okay, two nights then,” Art pushes open the door, breaking the closeness. It feels like a temporary bit of relief.

Patrick follows him in and slips off his shoes. “That’s the one thing I hate about dressing up. Fucking boat shoes.”

Art smiles. “I’m really drunk I think.” He says, kicking off his own shoes.

“Yeah?” Patrick smirks.

“Yeah, I don’t know how I’m gonna make it to practice tomorrow.”

“Isn’t it in the afternoon?” Patrick pulls off his jacket and then his t-shirt. He digs through his duffle for something to put on.

“Yeah but still.” Art realizes then he’s been watching Patrick undress, like he hasn’t seen him butt naked before. He shakes his head and goes to change into his own night clothes.

“Don’t be mad,” Patrick says as Art gets his jeans off.

“What?”

“I think I need a session, maybe I found that waitress hotter than I realized,” he’s in his boxers holding himself. His eyes fall over Art’s body.

Art looks down and swallows. He’s seen Patrick erect before… even touched it… But they were a lot younger last time. They’d actually grown out of doing it in front of each other a long time ago.

But ever since Patrick brought it up that night… ever since they kissed… Art’s mind would occasionally wander to what it might be like to see it again. And now there it was… just… right in front of him. Patrick holding it idly like it’s not ridiculous to be carrying all of that around. Art’s fingers twitch, his mouth is suddenly too wet and he swallows again. The worst part… he’s getting hard.

Patrick sighs. “I’ll go in the bathroom.”

“Um…” Art can hear his heartbeat in his ears, he sits on his bed just because his knees are shaky. “I thought… I think she’s hot too.”

Patrick is still for a moment watching him, before he smiles and approaches Art. “Right? I think it was the skirt. I mean those fucking legs.”

Art nods. He reaches for Patrick. His head is all fuzzy, his ears are ringing and Patrick straddles him on the bed. Art touches it through his boxers. It’s heavy and really, really full.

Patrick eases his fingers into Art’s hair. “And she’s blonde….I think I like blondes more than I should.”

Art grips him properly. It’s not just lengthy, it’s thick. The only thing he can think about is what it might feel like in— in— just in.

He rubs it up and down, like it’s his own. He’s never done anything like this before so he’s shocked when Patrick reacts, “Fuck,” he gasps, this quiet sound that makes Art shiver. Art grabs at the front of his boxers and eases them down, revealing a shock of dark hair and Patrick’s cock as it bobs forward. Circumcised, all pink, and all so real. So much bigger than the last time Art saw it like this.

He leans over and licks at the shaft.

“Whoa,” Patrick breathes and then he chuckles.

“I uh—‘m sorry,” Art looks up at him, anxious that maybe this is too much, too far. That he did something wrong.

“God Art. You’re so fucking…” Patrick breathes and settles down on Art’s lap. He takes Art’s face in his hands and kisses him. Art breathes in as their lips touch. It almost feels the way it felt that night. Something warm, almost on fire. Their chemistry overwhelming.

God, is he into this? Is he into Patrick? He thought it was all because of Tashi but this still feels good even when she’s not watching. And right now Art knows he wants to feel more of Patrick’s tongue. He wants to lick his cock again. His mouth hasn’t really stopped feeling wet, but the kiss feels good in spite of it…maybe because of it. He finds himself exploring every inch of Patrick’s mouth. His heart is still racing. He knows Patrick can feel how hard he is. The way he feels Patrick poking against his stomach. He grips it and gets excited when Patrick hums a pretty little moan.

Patrick eases them out of the kiss and looks at Art, fingers tangled in his hair. His cheeks are all flushed and rosey. His freckles are so vivid up close. He’s actually incredible. “You want to taste it again?” He asks, brushing up against Art’s lips.

“Mmhm,” Art nods.

Patrick takes a deep breath and he actually stands up in front of Art, so his cock is just right in front of Arts face. Art stares at him and nibbles on his thumb. Patrick’s got freckles on his tummy, just a couple spattered here and there. Art wants to lick those too.

He sits up and grips Patrick’s cock again. It feels so warm he must run at a thousand degrees. Art licks at him. He can see the way Patrick’s muscles tense. Hear his little breaths. Art starts licking more. Up and down, all over the length of him. He likes how it feels along his tongue. The heat of it, how soft and solid it is at the same time. He likes the taste and the smell, salty and heady. He sees the pearls leaking from the tip and tastes that. He really likes how it tastes so he sucks on the tip a little more. And it’s all punctuated by the way its affecting Patrick.

“Mm, fuck sweetheart, I know you want to explore but this feels insane.” Patrick breathes. “You’re gonna mess around and make me shove it in your mouth.”

Art feels warm at the way he says sweetheart. And the thought that Patrick might lose control over him.

He opens up and takes in more.

“Fuuckk,” Patrick sighs like he’s sinking into a warm bath. Art closes his eyes and runs his tongue over the length. He’s almost sure he can taste Patrick’s heart beating through it. It feels incredible and Patrick starts moaning for him which makes Art begin to lose himself in it. It’s too big to get it all inside at once but he tries to take a little more. His mouth is so wet that when he pulls back spit drips onto his thighs. He licks and then takes it in again, more this time.

“Oh shit,” Patrick gasps. He starts moving his hips like he can’t control himself and Art needs to grab on to keep him from shoving it too deep. But he likes the sliding feeling as it moves back and forth over his tongue. His own cock is aching. He feels like he might start pushing up against the air too. It’s so hot how he’s the one doing this to Patrick. It’s all him. His mouth. His tongue.

“Can you look at me?” Patrick gasps.

Art hums and looks up as it’s sliding out of his mouth, he takes a small breath before taking it back in again but his mouth starts filling immediately. Art feels it hot and thick slipping down his throat and he starts coughing. Which makes it start spilling everywhere, dripping off his lips and Patrick’s still coming so Art licks around the tip to try and taste it.

“No… wait, fuck, fuck… that’s too sensitive just… relax,” Patrick gasps, breathlessly. He pulls his shorts back up and stumbles to sit on the bed next to him. He rubs his thumb over Art’s messy lips, Art licks at it and Patrick smiles letting him suck it for a minute before pulling it away and sucking it into own mouth. “Come here.” He rubs his thighs.

Art stares at him for a minute and then moves to straddle him. “Sit,” Patrick says, softly.

Art settles on his lap.

“Have you ever done that before?” Patrick asks, rubbing him over his boxers.

“No, is it okay?” Art asks, his voice a little hoarse.

“So fucking okay,” Patrick says and he starts kissing him immediately. It feels so satisfying, rubbing his tongue along Patricks after having a mouth full of him. He feels Patrick’s fingers ease into his boxers, gripping his cock where Patrick starts jerking him off properly. That combined with the stimulation from the kissing makes Art finish embarrassingly quickly all over Patrick’s fingers and in his shorts.

“Mm I need another cigarette,” Patrick laughs, licking his fingers and gazing at Art.

Art swallows hard, mildly panicked now that he’s back in his right mind. He climbs off of Patrick’s lap.

“What?” Patrick asks. ”And don’t say sorry.”

Art bites his tongue and takes a deep breath. “I think I drank too much.”

Patrick grins. “I don’t know. You kinda spilled some of it,” he gestures to Art’s lap, a bit of pearly liquid settled there.

“That’s not funny,” Art says, biting down on a smile.

“Oh it’s really funny.” Patrick says, getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Art asks. Strangely enough he just kinda wants to be near him.

“I’m gonna wash my hands,” he says. “And clean up a bit.”

Art bites his lip.

“You want to come?”

Art nods and gets to his feet. “I’ll just brush my teeth and um… change my…” he gestures vauguely.

Patrick smirks and beckons for Art to lead the way. “So,” Patrick says. “Where do you wanna go tomorrow night?”

[storydays]

Brozone Random Headcannons

So I've seen the Trolls Band Together 3 times and counting and it was so good! So to get back in the groove, and after having some kind words come my way from multiple people, I really appreciate you guys! I'm gonna try a new writing style. Now remember, these are simply my opinions :)

SPOILERS AHEAD!

John Dory:

*Okay, so it is canon that Branch is 24 in the Trolls 3, which makes John Dory about 44.

*Nickname(s): JD, John

Fav color: Aquamarine and Green

Pronouns: He/Him (He supports, but is comfortable as himself)

He also gives me aromantic vibes, because like throughout the movie, he was really nonchalant when the romance bits came up, however subtle they are, he didn't give a damn lol.

JD is giving big Aries vibe with how confident he can be, pretty cheerful, and gets frustrated by tiny details, and unnecessary interruptions.

Bruce:

Bruce is the second oldest at 40

BIG Scorpio vibes!! He's strong (Y'all, have y'all seen how easily he lifted Branch when they first met) and hella independent. He was the first to question John Dory before their show, he was even hesitant to leave Vaycay Island before he sang with his brothers.

Nickname(s): Brucie, I feel like Brandy calls him that to mess with him or when she wants something. His brothers' (mostly John Dory and Clay), call him that to make fun of him as well.

Fav Color: White

DO NOT TOUCH THIS MAN'S HAIR!!!!! He will sic his kids on you and show no mercy.

Pronouns: He/Him (He's a huge ally, but he's also proud of himself.)

He loves experimenting and competing in the kitchen with Brandi, forces his brothers to try their food, and chooses whose food is going on the specials board.

Clay:

Clay is giving major middle-sibling vibes: at 35 years old.

Pronouns: He/They

Clay is non-binary and wears androgynous clothing but prefers their sweater romper and wristbands.

Nickname(s): Claybo (Viva calls him this to playfully annoy him), Clayton (Bruce and JD called him that as a kid, usually copying their mothers and grandma when they would scold him; but now call him that when he's overworked himself and they have to physically drag him to bed to rest.

Fav color: Green it was pretty obvious in the movie bc originally it was yellow when we first met him as a teen, but then we meet him later and it's green, and their whole outfit is green.

Def a Gemini! They're such a playful Troll, despite how serious he may act. But as he stated before, put some respect on his name bc they're a licensed CPA, fool!

Clay's favorite snack combo is:

Fries and a vanilla milkshake! He loves dipping the salty fries in the sweet vanilla.

They talk in their sleep, mostly about tax evasion and hot chocolate?

Hates doing their hair, Viva has to wait until he's sleeping for her to brush his tangles out.

Floyd:

Floyd is the second youngest at 32

He's such a Pisces! He's so empathetic, compassionate, and oh, so sensitive.

Pronouns: He/Him

He and Clay definitely go all out for Pride (Bc Trolls are literally all spectrums of the rainbow! We learned that in Trolls 2! It'd be impossible NOT to have a big party for Pride), and drag their brothers and are literally so hype at the whole event and crashes MEGA hard the next morning and sleeps for a good 12 hours.

Floyd remained friends with Veneer because, c'mon they were vibing. He could see Veneer wanted someone to see him, so he convinced the Mount Rageous police to let the twins out for Pride.

Had a long talk with Velvet and helped her to see the error of her ways, and she began to be nicer to Veneer and listen to him.

Fav color is Black. He knows he slays the Rock Troll look.

I'm gonna settle this once and for all: Floyd is gay. The one earring in his right ear is a shout-out to his voice actor who is an openly gay singer.

Nickname(s): Flo (I feel like Branch couldn't pronounce Floyd's name yet when he was just learning to talk, so he called him Flo and it stuck.) Floydie (when his brothers tease him about his crush that he refuses to name.)

The hair in his face is like a comfort thing for him. He knows his hair is soft, and when he's bored, he plays with it, and twirls it around his fingers.

Floyd definitely has a collection of journals, from his songwriting to venting his feelings, and even (poorly drawn) doodles of his family.

Branch:

He is the youngest at 24 as stated earlier.

Pronouns: He/Him

Fav color: Midnight blue like his hair

This dude is hella smart; like has a super high IQ, but is super chill about it.

He and Poppy are that meme: Tired X Energetic on a level 10!

Nickname: Branchifer (Poppy calls him that when she's calling him out on his attitude or when she's about to start teasing him.)

Def an Aquarius: highly intellectual, creative, and likes to join in on social interactions when it's on his time. Poppy learned the hard way why she shouldn't force him to join in.

Similar to Floyd, he was a bunch of notebooks filled with songs he'd written.

Branch is shy when it comes to family PDA, like if his brothers were to group hug him, or if they tried to mother him, and gets especially prickly when they baby-talk him in front of others.

This dude is the prince of sarcasm, clearly picking that trait up from all his brothers. Like bro, why are you so sarcastic?!

Is undeniably the most sarcastic of the brothers. (His nieces and nephews start to pick up on that, much to Bruce's horror. Brandi thinks it's hilarious.)

Doesn't really like kids, but absolutely adores his nephew Bruce Jr ( I mean he loves them all, but has a soft spot for that boy.) Bruce Jr is autistic and nonverbal and struggles to communicate. I believe he uses TSL (Troll Sign Language), and when Branch learns this, he starts signing fluently with his nephew, surprising everyone, especially Bruce Jr, because not many people can sign so fluently, but then Branch explains, that he learned when he was younger because you could go deaf at any moment and it's such a useful skill.

Bruce Jr shows Branch his blueprints that he's made and honestly, if they wanted to, they could take over the world.

That's all for now! Let me know what you guys think!

A big shout out to @vacayisland appreciate you! This one’s for you 🥰

[doodler16]

3 things to say:

1- "being gay is when a married man cheat on wife with another man"- vivziepop's logic (her lgbtq representation is very conservative if you think about it)

2- I feel like fans know that vivziepop's writing is bullshit and full of pilot holes but they Don't care about it as long there's characters to fuck *cough* loona *cough*,people underestimate the power of horny lol and to this day I still don't understand the hype and praise for loona but this is how Internet works I guess

3- I usually don't care about ships and strange kinks as long it stays fictional and no real person is involved in it BUT i hate it when a creator push it in their "morality teaching shows" it's where I draw the line like you either make serious show about taking abuse seriously to spread awareness or a weird fever dream kink show made for gooners to enjoy, you can't have it both,vivziepop made hypersexuals look like bunch of freaks and stigmatised them even more. "Please guys have sympathy for this character for getting sexually harassed but please don't blame him for sexually harassing others cause trauma made him hypersexual and you have to deal with it, he's just coping!" Like wtf are you serious? There's different ways to coping with trauma including drawing fetishes and kinks and i see no problem with it but harassing others is not coping you are just being peirce of shit, her morality is so flawed what is she even trying to tell audience? Victims of SA become assholes and have free card to harassing others? Wtf? And Yes I am a proshipper and I hate HH/HB because I hate it when a show tell you it's ok to cheat and it's ok to sexually harassing others why? because you said that this show is meant to represent victims but you only made victims feel embarrassed even more about themselves and you backstabbed them like don't you realise when you say your shows is about victims your victims watch the show to feel comfortable and feel being understood only for them seeing angel dust being asshole and sir.pentious getting SA'd as a joke? where's the SA awareness? Like yes we know victims who read SA fanfic as coping exist but not all of them cope the same way and we thought you would tell us how terrible SA can be and how it effects victims horribly ,not using trauma to excuse their shitty behaviours? I hate seeing people getting hurt and I don't want to be near someone telling me that them being asshole is ok because "HB is like bojack horseman and told me it's ok because X And Y" like stfu if you truly know anything about bojack horseman you wouldn't even think of comparing the two also you're an adult and if a dumb cartoon made you harassing others then you weren't good person in the first place you bastard maybe talk to therapy instead because creating trauma to others will never help you also not to mention half of fanbase of HH/HB are minors thanks to lazyass parents and society gaslighting everyone with "if it's cartoon then it's for kids" but the audience is out of vivziepop's control do i am not gonna blame her for this one but all i know is that unlike adults who are aware and responsible for their actions minors brain is not fully developed and they can be misguided most of times so i am worried about them growing up with vivziepop's 'morality' so i don't know the solution of who is watching cartoon and i think we should normalizing shaming lazy parents like don't be a parent if you would just let internet babysitting your child instead of you doing it yourself parenting is called parenting for a reason you're called "parent" not "birth giver", why am I proshipper? Because I don't care about others ships but I don't like the She-ra's "lesbians can't be abusive! You must feel bad for your abuser and you owe them everything and you should forgive them" Message and vivziepop's "if you're in straight marriage and you find out you're gay just cheat oh and if you have trauma it's ok to be asshole" Message (I hope you understand what I am trying to say and I hope you understand we have same goals before you tell me I am terrible as abusers just because i don't care about others ships and believing that fictional things doesn't matter as long it's fictional)

Alright I am done,scream at me I guess

The fans would also fill in the holes regarding Helluva Boss and doesn’t help that Vivziepop would like tweets about it. Don’t like tweets of your fans defending your show. Put and write it into your dialogue not on Twitter 😭

Yeah, Vivziepop has a huge problem of wanting her cake and eating it. Like what you mentioned Anon, the sexual assault jokes then another moment taking it seriously. Rinse and repeat. The moral compass in Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss is so wish-washy.

Successfully killed straight married couple. Cool. Oh no, Blitzø doesn’t have the guts to kill a gay couple. Woahh apparently it’s character development (despite Blitzø fighting over a parking lot like an Anon in my last ask mentioned, happily participating in a Wrath competition in Millie’s hometown, killing lumberjacks, happily will screw over the cherubs, etc etc).

Most of the characters especially if a character is Vivziepop’s favorite, don’t get held accountable and when they do have a chance to be called out, it’s usually downgraded in some way or there is some excuse in said action.

Its funny you bring up the children in Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss because there was literally a situation where like what a 9-10 year old was at a Hazbin convention asking Blake Roman an inappropriate question regarding Angel Dust. It is so mind boggling to watch. Hazbin and Helluva are supposed to be for adults (+18) but the both shows don’t seem adult despite covering big topics like rape, kinks, etc. It feels like 2 kids in a trench coat attempting to sneak into a R rated movie.

At the day it’s the parent’s responsibility and they should be called out. It also doesn’t help that a few voice actors like Amir encourage kids and parents to watch Hazbin Hotel, despite Vivziepop expressing multiple times it’s for adults. I don’t know if he changed his mind about kids accessing Hazbin Hotel but I hope he does.

Vivziepop could potentially age gate Helluva Boss (I’m not talking about the warning sequence from Helluva Boss that flashes for 5-10 seconds every episode). But like manually do this:

But Vivziepop would lose some more views if that happened. Otherwise there isn’t much she can do.

[gothamite-rambler]

When your boyfriend has a work husband

Rose (leaning in with a smile): You know there’s a rumor going around about you two?

Jason (deadpan): What, that we’re gay for each other?

Roy (noticing the bag of Twizzler gummies that Jason placed on the table): Oh my God, Twizzler gummies!

Roy's eyes lit up as he became distracted by the candies, snacking on them like a kid. Jason took the opportunity to mess around with him.

Jason (shrugging nonchalantly): No, see, I’m straight. But if there was a man I would marry, it would be Roy.

Roy stopped chewing, his expression shifting to shock as he processed Jason’s words. He swallowed the candy and groaned.

Roy (exasperated): Okay, you're dating Rose, stop saying this stuff!

Jason (playful): She understands; Artemis did.

Artemis (chewing on her gummy candy, covering her mouth while nodding): I wasn’t even mad. You two have great sexual energy.

Jason: Everybody knows about our love.

Roy (raising his voice): Friend love because we're friends!

Jason: That’s what historians will call us, but we know the truth!

Roy sighed in annoyance. Rose giggled, tapping her fingers on the table with a mischievous smile.

Rose: How do you feel about that, Roy?

Roy hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes with an irritated sigh.

Roy (dryly): Him saying crap like that isn’t helping the rumors.

Artemis (arched an eyebrow with a smirk): I think the time you guys made out at my birthday party isn’t helping the rumors either.

Jason (glancing sideways at Roy): Yeah, I just hate that he didn’t give me enough tongue.

Rose laughed, unfazed by the banter from before she started dating Jason. Roy's reaction, however, was slightly different; he grabbed Jason's head and slammed it onto the table. Jason sat up laughing, clearly unfazed by the quick head slam; he had dealt with worse.

Rose (amused): I’m not mad, but do I have to worry about him competing with me?

Artemis pretended to ponder this for a moment, clearly enjoying Rose’s energy in the group.

Artemis: I mean, JayRose, JayRoy… maybe?

Roy (raising his voice, emphatic): Fucking no! He just does that to mess with me. We were never a thing, and if I were gay, bi, or pan, he’s not my type.

Jason (feigning a wounded tone): You’ve hurt me physically and emotionally again.

Roy tossed the bag of candy at Jason and playfully shoved him, laughing while covering his eyes. Jason handed him the bag of candy back, happy that things were going well after the rest of the group found out about his relationship with Rose.

Rose (smirking): Roy, don’t feel too bad. At least people didn’t walk in on you and Jason while he was giving you a fantastic time.

Artemis (shrugging with a playful smile): It’s not my fault the door was unlocked. Bizarro and I didn’t see much, and he’s done the same for me. He’s in my top three. How was cunnilingus for you?

Rose took a sip of her soda while Jason waited with a bemused smile.

Rose (clearing her throat): One of the few times a guy knew what he was doing.

Jason cheered, raising his hand in front of Roy for a high five.

Roy laughed as he resumed eating the candy, lowering Jason's hand.

Roy (firmly): I am not high-fiving my friend for giving good oral. I’m not that weird.

Rose (smiling affectionately): He’s so cute when he’s acting goofy like that.

Artemis (rolling her eyes): That’s his goofy charm; it wears off quickly.

Jason (smirking): Whatever you say, Artemis.

The group continued to banter, the lighthearted tension easing into comfortable laughter.

[joekeerys]

I find it interesting how we’ve never seen Jacaerys show any interest in women. Even in being betrothed to Baela, they act more like cousins than anything. His dance with Helaena was done almost entirely out of spite for Aegon, whom we’ve seen him show more interest in/affection toward as a child than anyone else. Then we have Cregan, whose relationship with Jacaerys in the book is…a whole other story. Jacaerys seemed quite fond of him in the short scene we got in the show too.

i’m gonna make a lot of people angry by saying this but i agree. i don’t think it’s any fault of the actors but jace and baela do not come off as a romantic couple at all. that’s entirely due to how condal & co chose to write them and their lack of scenes that would imply they’re anything other than close family. it’s unfortunate because i’d really like to see them explored more and they’ve already treated baela’s character poorly enough as it is. i highly doubt we’ll even get a kiss between them before jacaerys dies.

it’s obvious i’m a big jacegon shipper and, regardless of whether you view it as platonic/familial or not, the way they acted together as kids and the tension between them during the dinner because of that fallout is undeniable. we haven’t seen jace act the way he did with aegon with anyone else. i think some people downplay how much he looked up to aegon as a child (as they do with all of aegon’s relationships), especially considering it’s the reason why things were so tense between them after aegon very publicly betrayed him in 1x07. i’d argue that “everyone knows. just look at them.” coming from someone he admired so much is one of jace’s biggest reasons for feeling so inadequate his whole life. this got out of hand lmao but YEAH i think it’s interesting how affected jace and aegon are by each other and i do not see it as entirely platonic.

jace and cregan are a whole other story indeed. i’m not much of a jacegan shipper but cregan’s devotion to jace long after his death is interesting to say the least. i never bought into the whole sara snow thing and the absence of her in the show doesn’t bother me since it’s up in the air whether she existed at all and i take everything mushroom says with a grain of salt. i like the ship more as an idea. them seeing themselves in each other, jace finding someone he can be more comfortable with, and them finding a sort of intimacy in that. another instance where the he chemistry between them is pretty apparent and it helps that harry and tom are such good friends outside of the show.

i think there’s a reason why jace is normally written as gay in fanfics where he’s paired with a man, while the other party is usually written as bisexual. i wouldn’t go as far as to say that the showrunners write him that way intentionally because that would be giving too much credit to someone like sara hess who has called hotd “the gayest show on tv” for reasons beyond explanation.

i’ve always seen show jace at least as being more interested in men because that’s what we’ve been given. book jace is another story and harder to pin down. ultimately, i agree with you!

[allyricas]

I love gay Eddie and bisexual awakening Steve. It's solid and popular for a reason. It works, makes a lot of sense.

But...I also love flirty-cluelessly-queer Eddie and comfortable-with-his sexuality Steve.

Eddie does flirt. With everyone. It was pretty clear he was flirting with Chrissy. He was flirting with Steve. Calling him big boy and getting up in his personal space, being all cutesy.

So, imagine Eddie just casually flirting with Steve and it doesn't mean anything to him. He's just being Eddie. He isn't even aware that it's flirting. He really considers it teasing. The man is dramatic and silly. He loves to make a scene. So "teasing" people is fun for him.

Eddie who is a super senior running a DnD club for outcasts, loves Lord of the Rings, plays in a metal band. I think Eddie is always into some sort of hyperfixation to be trying to bang chicks or dudes.

There was totally a phase were he was obsessed with folk and old country music (Woody Guthrie much). There was the Jane Austen phase (It fits, c'mon). The time he tried to learn to crochet. His lasting phase with fantasy novels. His intense love of metal music. He knows a lot about music in general. Obscure shit. Oh, those handcuffs-definitely from his magic phase. Tell me, 12 year old Eddie didn't want to be a magician. He probably did card tricks, the whole deal.

Eddie would be the kind of guy who'd spout all sorts of random knowledge. He probably has one specific time period in history he could rant about for hours.

The man has raging ADHD (takes one to know one). He's a self-professed nerd and outcast. The only thing that might be considered "cool" is that he plays in his band. But even then, he's a total nerd about it.

Eddie is hot as hell. That is undeniable. But Eddie has been too damn busy being a fucking nerd to date or hook up. I think he's so focused on his interests, it could easily not have been on his radar. Same way he's failed senior year twice in a row despite being smart as hell. The shit they are trying to teach doesn't interest him and that makes Eddie fucking struggle.

He's bouncy and hyperactive. He probably has terrible tunnel vision when he gets into a book or movie or campaign. Dating has thus far not been interesting enough especially combined with how he's treated by the people in Hawkins.

So, yeah- he flirts and teases. He thinks it's harmless fun. With Chrissy, it was a way to make her feel safe and lighten the mood. With Steve, it's a way to disarm him. It's King Steve afterall. Why not play up the metalhead freak persona. Let him think he's weird.

It isn't until Steve starts flirting back and gives Eddie butterflies that Eddie realizes this is not heterosexual behavior. And he knows a lot about that because he was accidentally flagging for a whole goddamn year. Because he wanted to look metal as fuck and thought the bandana was badass.

Steve calls Eddie princess. Calls him pretty boy. Throws in a babe. Everytime Eddie refers to him as big boy or Stevie, Steve just smirks and comes up with a new pet name that wrecks Eddie (who has no idea what is fucking going on). Throw in the boys getting high together with no inhibitions and Steve actively trying to romance him and Eddie's in a full blown sexuality crisis.

best part: Steve thinks Eddie is gay because of the bandana that he wore all year. Add in all the flirting and then Steve's really putting the moves on totally clueless Eddie. And say what you want about Steve, but he has game. I can just imagine Eddie trying to frantically figure out why all of the sudden he wants to make out with Steve "the hair" Harrington and Steve's like...aren't you gay?

(if anyone knows of steddie fics anything like this, please rec them!)

[avonne-writes]

I’d love your thoughts on gales relationship w his father in any of ur modern AUs + how John reacts to/fits into it!!

Thank you so much ❤️ Great question! I will describe their relationship in the high school AU, because the others are not yet defined in my head.

In the HS AU:

Gale's dad is often drunk or at a bar in the evening and gets home in the middle of the night

If he’s drunk at home, he keeps Gale up, if he gets home at night, he wakes him up by being too loud

So Gale has sleep problems. Because of this, he sleeps at Bucky’s as often as possible, which usually means every weekend and sometimes during the week too

When Gale’s dad has a bad night gambling, he gets verbally aggressive, berates Gale and his mom, blames them for bad luck etc. Bucky told Gale to call him even during the night if this happens. Gale never does, but the thought that he could feels really comforting to him.

Gale's dad isn’t overtly homophobic and he doesn’t threaten Gale for being gay. But all Gale's life, he has been saying stuff about what a real man should look like and how he should behave. The older Gale gets, the more he disagrees with the man’s ideas. This is why he grows out his hair.

A few times, Gale’s dad hit him when drunk. Bucky helped hide the bruises with his mom's make-up.

Gale asks his mom to get a divorce multiple times, but she's always torn about it and if she tells Gale's dad she's going through with it, the man sobers up for a while and acts all nice and decent to keep them.

When he starts drinking again after a nice period, Gale goes to Bucky and just lies in complete, silent defeat in his embrace.

He tells Bucky he’s moving out as soon as possible and will never go back.

None of their friends know about all this, they just know he fights with his parents and spends a lot of time hanging out at Bucky’s place.

He goes to the school psychologist every week, and Bucky always waits for him, often kicking a soccer ball around in the schoolyard. If Gale had a session that shook him / left him drained, he sits on a bench and Bucky shows him tricks with the ball and plays around until Gale smiles again.

Gale's parents almost never attend school events / swim meets / competitions.

Gale's mom is so caught up in her own struggles that she uses him as a crutch too in dealing with his dad. Gale is used to taking this responsibility on his shoulders but as he gets older, and especially after meeting Bucky's mom, he realizes that this is not how it should be and he grows resentful. It’s perhaps unfair but he resents her more than his dad and then feels guilty for it.

Gale loves Bucky's mom and she loves him too. One day, when he has a crisis, she tells her that she'll always be there for him, even if he and Bucky break up.

Bucky's mom is a single parent and is away a lot due to work (which feeds into one of Bucky's problems, but that's a different story). But she's laidback about a lot of things and doesn’t try to hold Bucky back from exploring, so it's not really an issue when they start having sex. There’s none of that bullshit "open door policy".

Gale categorically refuses to take Bucky home with him. They've been dating for like two years or something already when he lets Bucky enter the house with him for the first time.

By the time this happens, Bucky is taller than Gale's dad. He’s gangly but he’s not intimidated by the man. Him being all protective actually makes Gale feel a mix of affection and arousal.

There’s definitely an altercation between Bucky and Gale's dad at one point, possibly close to graduation, but Bucky disengages when he realizes that it makes Gale upset.

Bucky helps Gale learn how to relax and enjoy things. Gale reassures Bucky that Gale is someone he can always count on and who won't abandon him.

[unclewaynemunson]

'Back off, man, I can do it alone.'

'No you can't.'

Granted, Max couldn't see shit anymore, but she could definitely feel how Eddie was looking at her – how he was winning their staring contest simply because her withering glare didn't exist anymore.

'Look, I don't want you in there with me, period,' she said, trying to sound more in control than she was feeling. She felt her cheeks burn and she hated it.

'Why not?'

She sighed, wishing she could still roll her eyes. 'Jesus, Eddie, do I really need to spell this out for you? It's one thing that my mom has to help me with literally everything, but there's no way I'm gonna let you.'

'Max.' She hated how Eddie's voice had gone soft all of a sudden. 'What are you afraid of?'

She merely scoffed in response; she still felt her cheeks burn. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to have this conversation, didn't want to think about how fucking vulnerable she felt. All she wanted was to go to the goddamn bathroom, was even that too much to ask?

'It's no different for me than for your mom, you know,' Eddie said. Max wished she could see his face, because something in his voice was different than usual but she didn't know what exactly it was.

'You know that's not true,' she said, her jaw clenched.

'No, it is.' She could hear how he took a deep breath. 'I'm gay. So, um... I can promise you it won't be weird.'

'Oh.' She didn't quite know what to do, taken aback by the vulnerability of those words. He didn't need to share this; he only did it to make her feel comfortable. He just handed her this big secret, trusting that she'd react in the right way, that she'd help him keep it, that she wouldn't want to hurt him. It was almost too much responsibility; she didn't really know what to say. She wasn't good with comforting or kind or reassuring words like Lucas.

'Does anyone else know?' she asked.

'My uh... My uncle.'

The scent of smoke made its way into Max's nose and she grimaced, but didn't tell him off; if any moment was a good one to have a cigarette, this one would probably be it, she supposed.

She still wondered what Lucas would say in this moment, but kept coming up empty.

'Okay, you can help me in the bathroom,' she finally decided, shifting back into a more practical mindset.

'Soooo...' Eddie dragged out the word. 'Are you - are we - okay?'

'Yeah, of course.' She should probably thank him for trusting her and tell him that he was her friend and she would always love him no matter who he loved or some sentimental bullshit like that, but she felt too awkward about it so she went for silence instead.

While Eddie helped her into the shower and washed her – at least as far as possible with all her casts – her mind kept running. It wasn't as awkward as she had expected it to be, to have Eddie undress her and touch her skin and even help her on the toilet. He was surprisingly gentle and kept checking in to make sure she was feeling okay, and he even made some lame jokes to try and keep things light. It made her think that this could be what it's like to have an older brother. It made her think of Billy.

'Billy would've hated you,' she finally broke the silence when she was dressed in fresh pajamas and lying with her head against the sink, Eddie's hands massaging shampoo in her hair.

She felt his hands freeze against her scalp.

'He always used to call people fags and pervs and... you know. And he'd beat people up for it. Sometimes I wondered...' She paused, hesitating. 'If he was, like, compensating for something.'

'Compensating?'

'Yeah, you know... If you go around calling enough people queers, no one will expect you to be one, right?'

Eddie hummed. 'I didn't know your brother very well,' he told her. 'Some people say that the queers have this instinct, like a sixth sense, to recognize each other, but I think that's bullshit. Or well, not entirely, sometimes you do get like a vibe from someone – but in the end, you can't just know someone's truth like that. And some people will bury that truth deep, deep down. And we can hardly blame them for that. It can be easier to pretend, you know – it's definitely safer. This world wasn't made for being different in that way. For being different in a lot of ways, actually. Whatever his demons were, whatever war was going on inside of him, I think Billy knew that very well.' He turned on the tap and started rinsing her hair.

'I'm sorry you can't get your answers,' he added when he turned the water back off again.

She sighed in response and let Eddie help her in an upright sitting position. She could feel how he started brushing her hair, carefully, as if she'd break into pieces from just the tiniest touch.

She realized that Eddie was right: there was no way to know what wars exactly took place in Billy's mind. The only thing she did know is that he had been a terrible brother to her - but that, despite that, she still wished it would've been different.

Billy wasn't here anymore; he was buried in the ground and his body was slowly falling apart, eaten by worms. But Eddie was here.

Eddie had constantly been at her side when they were both in the hospital, and now that she had come home, he still was. He checked in on her every afternoon; he cooked for her and her mom; he told her stories to entertain her and tried his best to make her smile whenever she was feeling frustrated by the limits of her body. He listened to her when she wanted to talk, and he kept her company when she didn't. He looked out for her and even trusted her with his secrets. He was more of a brother to her than Billy had ever been. He was right here - and she had all the time in the world to ask him all the questions she never got to ask Billy.

'Have you ever kissed a guy?'

She heard Eddie chuckle softly. 'I have.'

'Have you ever had a boyfriend?'

'Have not.'

'Why not?'

And he answered everything she asked him, all while softly stroking her brush through her hair. And when her mom came home, they drank tea together on the couch, and it strangely felt like they were a proper family.

[dykelips]

steddie — friends with benefits to lovers drabble

“friends don't do what we do.”

rating — teen & up. | tags — fwb to lovers, roommates au, everybody lives/nobody dies, gay steve, gay eddie, mutual pining, friends to lovers, love confessions, angst and hurt/comfort, friends with benefits.

steve's never really had self control. he's never had any when it came to several instances—calling jonathan byers a queer, kissing tommy on a drunken night when he was 15, going straight into an alternate dimension, facing billy hargrove and getting his ass beat, or even telling robin he has feelings for her, soon to find out she's a lesbian, and that he himself is a gay man.

steve's self control surely didn't exist the day steve proposed an... idea to eddie—a no attachment, friends with benefits who bang and get it out of their system type of deal. they're already best friends, deeply bonded from the whole vecna ordeal, so what harm could this do to them?

and now that steve thinks about it, it didn't do a small amount of harm, it practically ruined steve. he fell for eddie, and he's not sure eddie feels the same way.

steve broke his own rule. he found himself attached to eddie, thinking about eddie, talking only about eddie, being in love with eddie.

after steve comes home to their apartment and sees eddie making out with someone on their couch, he starts an argument. he doesn't own eddie, they aren't dating, and eddie's a grown man who can do whatever he wants, but seeing someone else other than himself lay their lips onto eddie's and kiss him, that really starts something inside of steve.

he can practically feel all of the months worth of collected feelings and thoughts bubbling up inside of him and almost spilling out over the sides the second eddie says what he says.

"we're just friends. we're friends, steve. you're you, and i'm me, and that's it," eddie says, arms crossed over his chest, hiding himself away and trying to tuck himself together.

"friends!? fucking—fucking friends, eddie? that's what we are? friends don't do the things we do."

steve scoffs and looks directly at eddie, face going red with anger and a mix of pain inside of him.

eddie looks down, lips pulled into a thin line, eyes downturned and hair hanging down around him, shielding him like a cave hidden behind a waterfall.

"yes, harrington. friends," eddie breathes out, head snapping up. "you act like you want me to say that we're more than that, but you're not into me. you just want to fuck me and act like nothing happened. i can't deal with that. i need someone who loves me, who tells me they need me and will take care of me and isn't disgusted or annoyed by me. that's what i need, not a fuck-buddy."

steve sputters and reaches his hands out, mentally saying fuck it and telling eddie how he really feels.

"eddie, jesus christ! i'm in love with you! i've been in love with you since you woke up from that goddamn coma last year."

eddie's eyes go wide, comically large and round, looking like bambi. he really fucking loves him.

"stop messing around, man."

steve shakes his head, not letting eddie dismiss him and believe it's just some sick joke that he's playing on him.

"why would i lie about loving you, eddie? everything i've done, it's all because of you. do you really think i would tell you this and compromise our friendship if i didn't feel just like i'm telling you now?"

eddie's mouth opens and closes like a dead fish, and he finally shuts it fully. "i, i don't—"

"if you don't love me back, that's okay. i just had to tell you, eds. you don't understand how much you mean to me," steve confesses, lips pulled into an apologetic smile. he goes and turns to walk out the door of their apartment,

eddie shoots out his arm, hand grabbing onto steve's forearm, squeezing, trying to stop him from leaving. "steve! fuck, i love you, too! i do, i really, really do. and, look, i didn't know how to tell you, because you're always being so frustratingly you, clearly not understanding all the hints i've dropped, trying to signal that i've been in love with you for months, too."

eddie licks his lips and his eyes seem to plead.

"really?" steve asks, hope bubbling up inside of him.

he nods, hair shaking around. "yeah, stevie. cross my heart and hope to die. i mean it. swear on it, even."

steve smiles at that.

"swear on what, exactly?" he knows the line he's crossing, and if eddie says what steve thinks he'll say, then steve knows it's true.

"on my guitar. my sweetheart. you know the one. i swear on her," eddie tells him, eyes flipping down to steve's lips and back up to meet his eyes.

"that's a big swear, munson. might need you to kiss me to prove it," steve teases, stepping in closer to eddie's bubble, noses almost touching.

eddie grins, wider that steve has seen for as long as he can remember. "i can do that."

he certainly swears on his guitar if the kiss that they shared proves anything.

whoops i suck at endings and writing in general, but this has been stuck in my head and i felt like trying to write. here it is. love you xx

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for starting shit with a 15 year old??

Alrighty here’s our cast:

I’m OP, I’m 19 years old, I’m FtM trans but not out nor have I started transitioning medically. I’ve graduated but live at home while I attend college

I have a little sister named “Janet”, she’s 16 and a sophomore. She’s popular, friendly, and had a big friend group

Janet has a friend named “Amy” who’s 15. Amy is the kid I think I started beef with

Okay for the story;

Janet is the leader of her group. She’s got the strongest personality and is the most sociable. Almost all the kids in her group are comfortably upper class while Janet and I are sitting very middle class. It’s always very jarring when I drop Janet off at a friend’s house and it’s a literal mansion.

Amy is who introduced Janet to this group, but it became quickly very clear that Amy has never been told “no” in her life. She’s controlling, spoiled, and jealous. Now, I’ve hung out with Amy before (Janet was there too, we were at a get together and Amy tagged along with us) and she’s a sweet girl, but definitely a product of her environment.

Now, over the last few weeks, things have spiraled out of control for that group. Amy got a boyfriend and has been repeatedly picked to spend time with him and made her friends (Janet’s group) feel like shit about it. Her boyfriend was always invited to group things, but Amy refused to let him join. She cited the other girls (who are all either lesbians or dating other boys) as trying to “steal her man”. She’s very insecure about herself and I genuinely feel bad for her

Recently, she’s been left out of group activities because she chose not to attend, but then later would send the group hateful messages on social media or would vague post about them being pieces of shit because they didn’t insist that she attend. Janet’s been under fire the most along with another girl named “Christina”. Amy even went as far as to out Christina as bisexual on Snapchat because Christina pointed out that Amy could have attended their Halloween party at any time as it lasted for seven hours

So Amy’s a mess.

Now, recently (again), Janet started talking to a boy we’ll call “Jeremy”. Jeremy’s a sweet guy, he’s in band, he’s still a dork because he’s a high school sophomore, but he’s still a cool kid. One day, Jeremy sends a bunch of screenshots to Janet from Amy. Amy, who has a boyfriend as mentioned above. Amy was not only flirting with Jeremy, but also talking shit about me and my family. She called my mom fat, said my dad was lying about having cancer (he’s a terminal colon cancer patient), called my twin sister an ugly control freak, and me a “gay whore who acts like a man” (LMAOOOO).

Here’s where I may be the asshole. I got Amy’s number from Janet’s phone and sent her what’s basically an essay calling her out for these insults and also threatening to screw her parents. I told her to never contact Janet again and that I hope she got over her insecurities. I know her insults weren’t directed towards me nor was I supposed to see them, but I can’t stand people talking about my family. I know I shouldn’t have contacted her, especially behind Janet’s back, but I wanted to defend myself and my family

Anyways, if I’m voted the asshole for sticking my nose in high schoolers’ business, I’d completely understand

🧐

^^^ so I can find this again 😭

What are these acronyms?

[bengiyo]

Hi, what's your 30 favorite Asian BL characters from dramas or series you've watched? (unless you don't have that many) Thanks.

Nonnie, respectfully, that's just too many characters to write about. However, I have written about The Knowing and why I identify with those characters, and I've written about Framboise, one of my favorite characters of all time.

However, now is as good a time as any to join @lurkingshan and @waitmyturtles in reaffirming my love for Dynamite!

In her post, Turtles talked about how Dynamite and Fire are products of internalized and externalized homophobia. Shan went on in her post to talk about how their story works because of how Fire shifts as he becomes comfortable with himself and his relationship with Dynamite.

I think part of why I feel so protective with it comes to Dynamite and his friends is that I care so much for fem gay men and the kinds of visible queers that don't get loved, especially when they're assertive about themselves. It was always obvious to me why Dynamite, Prem, and Samsee were together. They're all lonely queers who don't expect others to love them or take care of them.

I've noticed over the last decade that fandom really struggles with friend groups like these. It was somewhat similar with the SCOY quartet on the front end, especially Toh. I often wonder if there is a component of visible queerness or gender play that doesn't reach sections of the audience. However, as a gay man who is loved and protected by queers like this, these are my best friends. You've heard my best friend on @the-conversation-pod when David guests, and he is one of those queers. He is a fighter. I am not.

Prem and Samsee clearly know Dynamite's story. The crux of why Samsee is upset with Dynamite at the end of episode 9 and going into episode 10 is because he felt like he should have been trusted with something important about Dynamite. Samsee is the kind of man who is like Whoopi Goldberg: He doesn't want people in his house. However, he opens his door for Dynamite when he loses his apartment, and keeps letting him live there even when he's pissed. Samsee believes in his friends and loves them. Dynamite is the de facto leader of their friend group because they love and trust him. Dynamite is more than just his persistent attraction to Fire.

Dynamite likes Fire because Fire protected him from what clearly reads as a bashing. Dynamite has been thinking about that for years, and toughened himself up because of white Fire inspired in him.

We also know that Dynamite lost his parents to homophobia. You don't get a queer like Dynamite if they're loved and supported by the people who were supposed to do it. You get this when he's loved and supported by the people who chose him. I keep my guest room ready because we sometimes have to take care of a friend in the local community.

When Fire gets serious about Jane and weird about Dynamite, he backs off, forcing Fire to come after him. He knows that Fire is also into him, but he isn't going to be jerked around. It's the sincerity of Dynamite's attraction that makes Metha force Fire to reckon with how he's suppressing who he is.

More than anything, it's that Fire admits this to himself when he can't put up the front anymore. Dynamite is so important to me because so many of us who were closeted are like Fire. We pretend like we don't like gay men chasing us, like Intouch chasing Korn in UWMA, and then we lose them! You will lose confident gays like Dynamite if you treat them like shit and keep calling them annoying. Their friends will call you DL trash and you will not be invited out.

I just love Dynamite so much. He is the kind of gay character I love the most in BL. He's a kinda fem gay man who is earnestly pursuing his hot, super fit love interest. He has the support of his visibly-queer friends. He knows what he wants out of his relationship. He supports his partner through a major difficulty while still being clear about what he wants as secondary to his partner's safety. He is passionate about his goals, and wants to succeed with his friends (I ugly cried about their dish narrative in episode 10).

We have a fully-realized queer character surrounded by complex, layered queer characters. His story and those of his friends are about queer love making people's lives better. He will always be a favorite, and I really hope the people in the audience who've struggled with him can find more ways to appreciate him.

[marragurl]

Listen. I love Jing Yuan x Dan Heng. Jingheng, hengjing, I adore them all.

And I like the narrative that most agree on that Jing Yuan adored Dan Feng and fell in love all over again when he meets Dan Heng and now loves Dan Heng for being him and not Dan Feng.

Or like Jing Yuan loves Dan Feng but doesn’t act on it since Dan Feng and Yingxing have their whole thing going on and then there’s the angst of Dan Heng thinking Jing Yuan only loves him due to Dan Feng but Jing Yuan having to reassure/prove he loves Dan Heng even with his past feelings for Dan Feng.

BUT-

I am a SUCKER for the idea that Jing Yuan had no romantic feelings at all for Dan Feng.

Like picture it-

The first thing Dan Heng sees is Jing Yuan freeing him and “saving” him. My boy is down bad. This man has been researching the Luofu and by extent Jing Yuan constantly while he was running across the universe.

And then he actaully starts learning about the HQC and the drama of that whole friend group- including Jing Yuan and Dan Feng

Dan Heng constantly hearing/having dreams that seem to imply that Jing Yuan and Dan Feng had something going on (throw in Yingxing, it’s a three-way situation, make it more funny- tragic ). Blade doesn’t help this situation and Dan Feng’s shadow just grows insanely more and more over Dan Heng. Jingliu says some comments during her life changing field trip with Yanqing and now the Jing Yuan and Dan Feng relationship spirals into the cloud knights rumor mill as well aka Sushang def makes some comments when she meets up with Dan Heng later.

Throw in the fanfiction they seem to have on the Luofu and Dan Heng feels like he has no chance at all.

BUT ON THE OTHER HAND-

Jing Yuan has no idea that this has been happening.

That man was a goner as soon as he laid eyes on Dan Heng at Scalesgorge waterscape.

Like, Jing Yuan x Dan Feng was nothing more than a nice friendship and maybe something bro like. Maybe if they had more time (and Yingxing didn’t come rizzing up DF) they could have developed romance. All the rumors and events are blatant misunderstandings that have snowballed and spiraled way out of control and Jing Yuan has been busy mourning his BFFs and trying to lead the Luofu for the last who knows how many years to take care of his romance rumor mill.

But Dan Heng?

Jing Yuan is GONE

Dan Heng fell first but damn did Jing Yuan fall harder.

My man saw Dan Heng IL form, had a gay panic, reeled it in to go kick Phantylia’s ass, got princess carried, was nursed to health, saw Dan Heng and Bailu bond and saved their asses, AND saw Dan Heng base form, and went “yup. That’s the one. I will die for him. I will adore him. There is no one else. No discussion or argument.”

He’s the only one who constantly calls him by his current name, outside of that tense moment in Scalesgorge, Dan Feng is rarely mentioned, he does everything to make Dan Heng comfortable, I AM A SUCKER FOR JING YUAN NUMBER 1 DAN HENG LOVER

whenever someone or Dan Heng tries to bring up Dan Feng and their past relationship Jing Yuan just goes “??? Dan Heng is amazing, why are we talking about Dan Feng?”

Like there’s nothing else. Dan Heng is his first and only and Jing Yuan has no idea how to handle ANY of it.

Idk where I’m going with this, there’s just something so insane to me about the idea of Jing Yuan truly knowing both Dan Feng and Dan Heng but ONLY falling in love with Dan Heng. Just giving more food to thought about the Vidyadhara reincarnation system, a more concrete form of just how different Dan Heng and Dan Feng are from each other that someone who knows both fell in love with only one of them.

I just want the most blatant confirmation for Dan Heng that Jing Yuan truly only sees him and loves him for him, not because of Dan Feng.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, is it obvious?

I think this has been marinating in my mind since that one side quest back in 1.3? Maybe 1.2? The one where the Vidyadhara guy is trying to woo the Xianzhou native girl and how he keeps falling in love with her in every life but she only liked the first few versions of him?

Anyways, something about that really got me thinking about long life, immortality, and how the whole point of reincarnation is that you’re a different person from the past and how the same person who’s known you each time will form different opinions and thoughts based on each new person.

Because that’s the whole point isn’t it? To be a whole new person?

I got way too philosophical for a post about me ranting about the complexities of Jing Yuan and Dan Heng falling in love

I am FERAL

(ALSO THE ANISHORT HNNNN WE WON BOIS)