#and every time jonathan is like ‘hm where did he go for [the time it takes to cook a meal]���

[puttingwingsonwords]

Dracula scrambling around the castle pretending to be his own servants is so important in showing that aside from being a super powerful evil vampire-sorcerer he is also a huge loser

[dreamofbecoming]

here we are at last! there have been a bunch of posts lately about how neither eddie nor robin have any gaydar to speak of, but steve canonically does, and also vickie definitely left fast times paused on purpose as a flag, and frankly all of you are just so objectively True and Correct that i had no choice but to write about it. parts 1 and 2 not strictly necessary for context but definitely set in the same universe

part 1 part 2 ao3

platonic stobin, rockie, steddie

rating: t

wc: 8.4k (holy fuck it got away from me)

---

Robbie isn't drunk yet, but she's getting there.

Honestly, Steve should probably slow her down, but what the hell. They're celebrating, after all. He'll cut her off in a bit, but she deserves to have some fun. They all do.

It's been three weeks since Eddie got out of the hospital, one since he was finally let off bedrest. Or, not exactly bedrest, but enough restrictions that he was basically confined to the trailer (brand new, courtesy of Owens and his goons), and from the way he complained the whole time you'd think they had him chained to the bedposts.

Hm. Maybe thinking of Eddie chained to bedposts isn't the best use of Steve's time. Not here, anyway. That's a Later activity.

It's the first house party any of them have been invited to since Spring Break, thrown by one of Robin's band friends. None of them planned on going, except that two days ago a frantic call came over the All Hands channel on the walkie that El had finally broken through, Max was awake, and the doctors thought her arms and legs would eventually, almost, make a full recovery, granted with lots of physical therapy.

Apparently the only useful thing Vecna ever did was break her bones at right angles so they could set them cleanly. Her vision will probably never fully return, but she's alive. She's alive, and she's awake, and she's apparently being a complete menace to the nurses, which is more comforting to Steve than any of the rest of it, so how could they ask for anything else?

Steve still feels like he's taking his first real breath after drowning every time he inhales. He's not sure he'll ever stop feeling this relief. It's so sharp it's almost painful.

So they're at this party, and they're celebrating. There's a real celebration planned, of course, with the whole Party and assorted extras, Murray (ugh) and Jonathan's California friend (who seems nice), Joyce and Hopper (and isn't that a trip) and Eddie and Wayne (Eddie read him in immediately, to no one's surprise) and everyone else. They've got plans to descend on Steve's house as soon as Max is allowed out of the hospital, where they'll presumably trash his mother's nice white carpets and eat through his snacks like locusts and enrage his neighbors with their shrieking in the pool. Hopper and Wayne will fight over who gets to work the grill until Joyce gets fed up and takes over and Eddie will commandeer the sound system and Robin will laugh at Steve for frantically switching between Host Mode and Lifeguard Mode until she finds someone big enough to sit on him and make him eat something. He can't wait.

But for now, they're at this party, and they're celebrating. With someone else's alcohol, which is a nice treat for Steve.

He's leaning against the wall by the kitchen doorway, sipping something Robin made him that tastes like paint thinner and looks like undiluted red food dye. He's surprised it hasn't eaten through the bottom of the cup like that green gunk from the elevator. He doesn't quite feel like joining the crush of people in the living room. He's felt a little off since Spring Break, a little lost inside his head. He knows Robin can tell, but she hasn't pushed him, other than dragging him here tonight. He's so grateful for her he thinks he could cry.

He doesn't, though, he just watches her from the kitchen doorway, squished on a couch between Vickie and who he thinks might be one of Eddie's bandmates. He recognizes him from those nights he would pick the kids up from Hellfire at the school, and also from Eddie's hospital room. He's got fluffy hair and a flannel shirt around his waist. Gary, maybe? Garth? Steve's not sure. He'd introduce himself and find out for sure, but apparently, carrying Eddie's bleeding not-quite-corpse on his back into the hospital and throwing around his father's name until someone agreed to treat him before collapsing in the lobby from his own injuries wasn't quite enough to erase the contempt for King Steve, so Steve's been mostly avoiding those guys. Eddie swears he's working on it. Steve...should maybe care more than it feels like he does. He thinks maybe a lot of things should feel more...more, than they do. But that's a problem for Later Steve. It's fine. He's fine. He's handling it.

He watches Robin, and she's laughing, and she's not quite drunk yet, and he's glad for her. This is what he wanted. This is what he wished for, on that flipped over bucket, in that field. That they'd all get through it. That they'd all get to keep smiling and doing stupid teenager shit. He maybe wishes he felt a little more like someone who wanted to do stupid teenager shit and a little less like someone watching his friends have fun from behind a plate-glass window, but he'll take it. Whatever he can get, he'll take it.

He looks back at Robin, and, huh. She's still laughing, but now she's between Eddie and Maybe-Gary-Maybe-Garth. He follows Robin's less-than-subtle (crimeny, this girl, he's gotta teach her a goddamn poker face) longing gaze and sees a flash of red heading for the back door.

This feels like a chance to do something useful. Robin will be ok, Eddie will keep an eye on her.

He follows Vickie out the back door. He finds her leaned against the back of the house, her eyes closed, her head tilted back. She's smiling. She really is pretty, Steve can see why Robin likes her. God, he hopes he's right about her. Either way, he's determined to find out. It's what Robin deserves.

"Hey, Vickie. Come out for some fresh air?"

Her smile gets bigger when she turns to him. He really hopes he's right about her, she's a fucking sweetheart. He hopes he isn't about to do something hugely stupid. Knowing him, he probably is, but also knowing him, he's gonna do it anyway.

"Hey Steve! Yeah, I was just getting a little warm in there. How about you? Smoke break?"

"Nah, I'm trying to quit. Robin hates them, she keeps stealing them out of my mouth, so it's somehow more expensive and I don't even get to smoke them. Easier to just stop. Which is probably her goal," he laughs.

"You and Robin are pretty close, huh?"

"Oh yeah, platonic soulmates. With a capital P!" He makes an incredibly dorky gesture with his hands, and has to stop himself from facepalming. Great going, dingus.

Still, Vickie's smile gets a little wider, which he thinks is probably a win.

"That's why I came out here, actually. I wanted a chance to talk to you." Her eyebrows go up. Always with the goddamn eyebrows around here. "Not, like, in a creepy way! Or, well, I guess that's what a creep would say, but I swear I'm not! I just meant, because Robin really likes you," shit, too much, "I mean, she likes hanging out with you, and she's my best friend and all, so I wanted to. Um. Get to know you better. You know. For Robin."

"...For Robin."

He groans. "I swear I didn't used to be like this. I used to be able to talk like a normal person. I didn't know that was a skill you could lose! I would have worked harder at it!" She's laughing at him now, but at least she's polite enough to hide her giggles behind her hand. That's something.

He sighs, and throws his head back to take a deep breath and try and come back to his body, like Robin showed him. Having therapist parents sounds like a nightmare to Steve, but it has its uses, he guesses.

He looks back at Vickie, who is watching him with what seems like more amusement than concern, so he's taking that as a win. If she's laughing, she's not running away. He sticks his hand out.

"Hi, I'm Steve. You're really important to the most important person in my life, so I'd really like to be your friend." He tries to give her his most winning smile, but honestly he's a little worried his teeth are still red from that godawful drink.

She grins at him, still definitely laughing at him a little but more genuine than before, and shakes his hand. "I'm Vickie, and you're really important to someone I hope will become really important to me, so I'd love to be your friend."

He doesn't breathe a sigh of relief, but it's a close thing. King Steve decided to stay in tonight, apparently, so he's on his own, and boy oh boy is he worse than he remembered.

"So, new friend, what do you want to get to know about me?"

Thank fuck Vickie's carrying so much of the weight here, honestly.

"We could, uh, talk about movies?" Jesus Christ, where did all the goddamn Harrington Charm go, anyway? Did Vecna eat it?!

There go the eyebrows again. He's cursed, he really is. "Movies?"

"Yeah, you know, I work at a movie store. Or I did, anyway. With Robbie. Pretty sure it went under in the quake though. That or Keith just fired us and didn't bother calling to let us know." He laughs awkwardly. He's doing fucking everything awkwardly, honestly. He hasn't even asked the question yet and he's already sweating bullets. No wonder Bobbie was so scared to confront this head-on. "Anyway, it can tell you a lot about a person, you know. Their favorite movie."

Come on, take the bait. Take it.

She nods seriously at him. "Oh I get that for sure, you can learn a lot about someone by their favorite book. I used to volunteer at the library and there was always gossip about who checked out what romance novel and whether that meant their marriage was on the rocks, you know?" She giggles, hiding behind her hand for a second. "I guess it was kind of mean, but we never said anything to anyone outside the library, and never to their face, you know? It was just something to keep us entertained on slow days."

Fantastic, he can work with this.

"Oh totally, I completely get it. Robs and I did the same thing at Family Video, making up stories about what we imagined people's lives were like that they were renting Casablanca and Gremlins on the same night, you know? Like, what does that evening look like? Which one do they watch first?"

She laughs. Perfect. She took the bait, now he's just gotta reel her in. Or something. He's never been fishing.

"You know, I usually rent my movies from Family Video. Did you guys ever look up my rental history?"

Aaaand, got her!

"You know, I think we did, actually, not that I'm helping the creep allegations," he winks at her. She slaps him on the shoulder. There we go, there's the Harrington Charm. Jesus fuck, where has it been all night? Sleeping?

Moment of truth, here we go.

"Fast Times At Ridgemont High, right?" He keeps his eyes on her face while he says it. He needs to see how she reacts.

She's been watching a raccoon rummaging through the neighbor's trash, but as soon as he mentions the movie, she whips her head around and looks at him sharply.

She studies his face intently in the glow from the floodlights above the garage. Whatever she finds, the fear in her eyes fades just slightly to caution. All good signs.

Fuck, this is harder than he remembers. Talking in code and reading all the subtle little shifts in body language involved in this conversation is stretching muscles in his brain he's forgotten he had. His friends these days all just sort of...say whatever they mean, straight out. He thought it was weird and off-putting at first, but now that he's doing this dance again, he's realizing he hasn't missed it.

The things he does for Robin, honestly.

He can see the moment she decides to trust him, even though she's still tense. She takes a deep breath, like she's gearing up for something. "That's a good one, for sure. You know, I think I maybe forgot to rewind it the last time I returned it? I paused it at my favorite part, but I think I got distracted and never finished it. I hope that doesn't cause too much trouble for you guys at your job. I'd hate to be one of those customers."

Jesus, this chick is brave. She's basically just coming right out and saying it! Holy shit, he's about to get Robbie a girlfriend! Ok, ok be cool. Bring it home, nice and easy.

"Nah, not a problem at all. Besides, I think I remember that tape, and we have the same favorite part, I think. All three of us." Fuck he hopes this isn't a mistake. If he just fucked up and outed Robin for no reason he'll- fuck, he doesn't know what he'll do. Ask El to open the gate back up so he can throw himself into it, probably.

Vickie's eyes go wide. "Robin too?" There's something like hope in her voice. He thinks. He hopes, anyway. Maybe he's just projecting, but he really thinks he's been right on the money from the start. He just needs to prove it to Rob and give them both a push.

"Yeah, Robin too. Now me, I like Fast Times a lot, but I also really like The Outsiders, you know?" A truth for a truth. Nothing is free, he remembers this dance. Trust is always earned.

He didn't realize her eyes could get any bigger, but somehow they do. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. "Really? Uh, me too! Those are...both...really good movies, you know?"

"Totally!" He's grinning now too, he can't help it. He's so excited for Robbie he might explode. This is the most alive he's felt in weeks!

"Not Rob, though, she loves Fast Times, but not so much The Outsiders. She can be, uh. Pretty nervous, you know? To talk about her taste in movies. I think she might be worried you don't like Fast Times as much as she does, but I know she really wants to, uh, watch it with you. So you might have to be the one to, you know, tell her how much you like it, and maybe ask her to watch it together?"

He's getting lost in the metaphor here. That's clear enough, right? Robbie isn't going to believe him about Vickie liking boobies unless she walks up to her and tells her "I like women, go out with me," in very small words, so he really hopes he got the message across. He needs Vickie to take the wheel on this.

Luckily Vickie is nodding enthusiastically. "For sure! I can do that!" She's halfway back to the house, almost tripping over her feet, before she looks back at him sheepishly.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, that was so rude of me, I just got so excited and I wanted to-"

"Hey, no worries, that was the goal, right? This is what I was hoping for when I came out here to talk to you. She, uh..." He shouldn't. He should stick to the code, just in case, he should be careful, it's Robbie's life on the line here.

But it's also her happiness.

"She didn't believe me. About the Fast Times thing. And then we ran into you at The War Zone, and she was totally convinced I was wrong, but I knew I had to ask. Just in case. I just really want her to be happy, you know?" There. He hasn't actually said the words. If it goes sideways, they still have plausible deniability.

And then, well. There's always Plan B. He doesn't exactly want to burn Vickie's house down, but he will. For Robin, he'll do anything.

Vickie is smiling softly at him. She really is sweet, she and Bobbie are gonna be so cute together. He can't wait to tease them into oblivion.

"I'm glad she has a friend like you, Steve."

He scrubs a hand across the back of his neck, feeling weirdly self-conscious. "Yeah, well, you know. You've got a friend like me, now, too, right?"

There's that bright smile again. "Right!"

"Alright, go on. Go get your girl."

Good lord, redheads sure can blush, huh?

He waits a couple of minutes before heading back in himself, enjoying the night air. It's not quite the height of summer yet, so the evenings aren't as muggy as they'll be in a month or so. For the first time since he crawled out of that gate with Eddie lashed to his back with the remains of the rope ladder he cut to protect Dustin, he's feeling the breeze on his skin without feeling like he's wrapped in plastic, like there's a wall around him, keeping from being part of the world. He wants to savor it, in case it goes away again.

When he does make his way back in, he almost trips over Robin, who's grabbing what should probably be her last drink. At least it's just a beer this time, if it was more of that awful concoction from earlier he'd probably take it away from her, pouting be damned. They could have flambéed Vecna with that shit, nobody should be putting it in their bodies.

Her face lights up when she notices him, and she flings herself into his arms.

"Oof, shit, Buckley, doing ok there? You having fun?"

"Sooooo much fun, Stevie!" She nuzzles her face into the crook of his shoulder. Yeah, if she's this cuddly in public, this should definitely be her last drink, especially if Vickie wants to make any kind of move tonight. She's not usually this touchy outside of the really bad nightmare nights. "Missed you though. Where'd you go? My bubba disappeared."

"Aw, Bobs, I was just outside getting some air, I promise. I didn't go anywhere."

She shakes her head stubbornly, her nose dragging along his collarbone. "Noooo, you left. Not now, before. After. In the hospital. We all came back but you left. You went inside your big stupid fluffy head and you don't come out anymore. I miss you."

It's a good thing Robin's face is still hidden in his shoulder, because he can't quite keep his expression from crumpling. He hasn't meant to hurt her, he hasn't meant to hurt anyone, he swears. He's trying, he wants to come back, wants to be normal again, he just...he feels like part of him is still stuck at the bottom of Lover's Lake, watching everyone above him on the surface moving on and living life, but not able to reach them.

He holds her tighter to his chest, petting her hair. It's a mess, like when she first wakes up in the morning. Maybe she fell off the couch or something while he was outside.

"I'm sorry, Bobbin-bird. I didn't mean to go away. I'm working on it, ok? I promise," he murmurs reassurances into her hair, trying to erase the sadness he can hear in her slurred words. He's shit at talking about feelings, especially his own, but not with Robin. Never with Robin. Saying true things to Robin isn't any harder than thinking them to himself, and honestly that's basically the same thing. They pretty much only have the one brain between them.

She pulls back, studying his face closely with bleary eyes, squeezing his cheeks between her hands. "Promise?"

"I promise, Bobbie." He tries to project as much sincerity as he can muster. She's edging past tipsy, but not actually drunk yet, so she should remember this moment just fine tomorrow, and he won't have to do it again.

Who he is kidding? They're definitely having this conversation again tomorrow. Maybe he can distract her with teasing about Vickie. Where did she go, anyway?

Robin grins, apparently satisfied for now. "Good!" She smacks a kiss to his forehead and finally lets go of his face. Thank god. He loves her, more than anything in the world, but she's a goddamned sweaty drunk.

Before she can say anything else, a redheaded streak comes stumbling into the kitchen.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Vickie leans on the kitchen counter, trying to catch her breath.

Steve looks to Robin to see how she'll respond, and, oh. Well, shit. Robin is...frozen, apparently. She's very obviously focused on Vickie, which is good, because otherwise Steve would be having trouble with flashing back to Nancy's thousand-yard stare in the Upside Down, or the whites of Max's eyes, but the part of her brain that lets her, you know, say and do things, appears to have shut down.

Looks like it's Steve's turn with the communal brain, lucky him. Time to step in and save this, if he can.

"Vickie! Hi, you know, I was just wondering where you ran off to? I was about to tell Robin to track you down, to talk about that movie we talked about earlier, but it looks like you found us instead!" He jams an elbow into Robin's side as subtly as he can, but she still doesn't move.

Vickie is looking between them, still breathing a little heavy. "Yeah, I went looking for you as soon as I came back in, but Gareth said-" Gareth! That was it! "-you went to the bathroom, and did you know there are six bathrooms in this house? Who needs that many bathrooms? I think Angela only has one sibling, why would anyone need six bathrooms for four people? That's so crazy! Anyway, I'm glad I found you, Robin. I'm, uh, getting a little overwhelmed with all the people out here, so I was hoping you might want to find a room that's maybe a little quieter, so we can talk a bit? Just the two of us?" Damn, this girl's got guts. Steve likes her.

Robin continues to stand in front of the fridge like the world's prettiest scarecrow. Come on, babygirl, you can do this! He elbows her again.

"Vickie! Hi! Steve, Vickie's here! Hi!" Steve and Vickie both startle a little because, wow, ok, volume, Buckley, damn. Still. Progress.

"Sure is, babe. Tell you what, why don't I take this-" he plucks the unopened beer out of her slack hand, "-and you and Vickie can go sit down somewhere quiet and talk about movies, huh?"

Robin blinks at him owlishly. "Movies?"

He's about to make another veiled reference to the boobies conversation when Vickie blows all of her air out of her nose and stomps one foot like that one girl in the Chocolate Factory movie who reminds him of his cousin Shauna.

"I'm sorry, I can't take it! I just spent ten minutes outside talking to Steve in ridiculous codes and another ten minutes running up and down the stairs in this insane house and I'm exhausted. I can't take the metaphors anymore. Sorry, Steve, no offense."

"Hey, none taken. It's pretty exhausting, you're not wrong. I just had to be safe."

She shakes her head. "No, totally, I completely understand. I appreciate it. I'm just secret coded-out tonight, you know? Robin, do you want to go upstairs with me and talk? I have something to ask you and I'd really rather do it in private, I don't really want any of these people listening, you know?" She waves her hand at the open doorway to the living room, which is still packed with people.

Robbie's head has been bouncing back and forth between them like she's watching a tennis match, eyes wide.

"Huh? Me? What?"

Oh geez. She's shorting out.

"Bobbie, look at me." She meets his eye, and he can see the nerves threatening to overwhelm her. "Trust me?"

She nods. "Uh huh. 'Course, bubba."

Well that warms him right up, but it's not about him right now. "Good. Go with Vickie, babe. It'll be good, I promise." He hopes he can promise that, at least. He's pretty sure he can. And if it goes bad, they always have Plan B.

Vickie holds out a hand, and Robin stares at her like it might bite her, before taking it gingerly. Both girls immediately burst into bright red blushes, and under any other circumstance he would laugh at them, but this is a delicate moment. They need him to be cool. He can be cool. He can be so goddamn cool.

Vickie leads Robin out of the room and towards the stairs, both of them still blushing like crazy and refusing to meet each other's eyes, and Steve can finally let out the breath he's been holding in a whoosh and slump back against the counter. He snags a bottle opener off the fridge- neat, it's got a magnet on it!- and pops the top on the beer he stole off Robbie.

“Well I hate to break this to you, King Steve, but she’s definitely about to steal your girl.”

Steve freezes with the bottle at his lips.

He sets the beer down on the counter and very carefully turns around. Munson is alone, thank fuck. This is fixable. He can deal with a single person. If it had been a crowd, or fuck, god forbid, someone like Gareth, who hates him, and might try and use this? Hurt Robbie to hurt him? Well, he's got his nailbat in the trunk, and he isn't afraid to use it, but he doesn't think Hopper would be thrilled to have to bail him out of jail.

"Whatever you think you heard, Munson, if Robbie gets hurt, it won't matter that you're one of us now. I'll finish what those bats started. I won't be happy about it, because you're a pretty cool dude and I like hanging out with you, but I'll do it for her if you make me." He makes sure his voice is low and even, and he meets Eddie's eyes head on. He wants to be very clear, this is not a joke. He will defend her if he has to.

He doesn't think he'll have to, not from Munson, but he isn't 100% sure, and he's taken enough risks with Robbie's safety tonight. He doesn't trust his luck enough to count on it working out a second time in less than an hour.

Munson's eyes go wide with shock- he clearly wasn't expecting Steve to meet him with quite that much aggression. He puts his hands up in surrender and leans back away from Steve.

Steve fights not to be distracted by the way his torso curves, graceful in a way he has no right to be with his wounds still scabbing over. Not the moment, Steve. Get it together, for fuck's sake.

"Hey, whoa, easy big guy. We're cool, man. Stand down."

There's a tense moment where they just...stand there, sizing each other up, unsure where to go from here.

Eddie tugs a lock of hair in front of his face, nibbling on it nervously. It's cuter than it has any right to be, honestly.

"I didn't- uh. Fuck, man. Please tell me I didn't just tip you off to flirting you didn't notice. It would suck so, so bad if I exposed Birdie without her knowing."

Steve takes a moment to consider this, frankly absurd, situation. He holds up a finger for Eddie to wait a minute, and checks both ways down the hallway outside before closing the kitchen door and leaning back against it to keep it shut. At least now it'll definitely just be the two of them, which is one more than should be having this conversation, but he doesn't see a way out of it, so this will have to do.

When he turns back to Eddie, he looks even more nervous than before.

"I'm perfectly aware of the flirting, considering I'm the one who went out of my way to set them up tonight. You didn't out anyone, and I should have been the one to make sure the door was closed before I got them in a room together, so it's not your fault for finding out. You understand you can't say anything to anyone, ever, though, right?"

Because he's apparently doomed to be accosted with eyebrow raises from everyone around him anytime he says anything at all until he dies, Eddie's are lost somewhere under his bangs. He looks...impressed. Huh, that's kind of nice. Steve resists the urge to preen.

"'Course, man, I'm well-versed in the code of silence." Something in his face softens, and Steve can feel the sincerity in his next words. "Birdie's a friend, and Finnegan seems like a real sweetie, I wouldn't ever want to hurt them like that. Cross my heart." He does, in fact, draw a cross on his chest with one long, ringed finger. What a dork, holy shit. Steve wants to put that finger in his mouth.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to be so cool with something like that. In general, but also especially since you and Buckley are, y'know." He waves his hand expansively around his head, the kitchen lights glinting off his rings, and Steve has to fight the urge to bat at it like a cat with a laser pointer. Jesus Christ, Harrington, focus. The man just called you a homophobe, get your shit together.

He decides, very magnanimously, he thinks, to ignore the homophobe bit, honing in on the rest. "Me and her are...what, exactly?"

"I mean, aren't you guys like, a thing?" Oh Jesus fuck. Not again.

"Ugh, no, where the hell do people keep getting that? Robin and I are just friends, ok? Platonic soulmates. Capital P!" He throws his hands in the air in frustration.

"-capital P," Eddie choruses with him, "I know, I know, I just, shit, man, I dunno, I figured you were..."

"Were what?"

"...Lying? Shit, that sounds worse out loud, sorry! I just mean, because, you know, Henderson keeps saying-"

"Oh, well if Henderson says it, it must be true," Steve rolls his eyes.

"Well fuck me for trusting the kid who calls you his best friend, I guess!"

They glare at each other across the room for a minute, before the ridiculousness of this moment catches up to Steve and he drops his chin to his chest, huffing a laugh.

Eddie looks confused, and still nervous, and a little incredulous. Also a lot adorable, but that doesn't feel relevant. "Ok, I'm so lost, man. I just came in here for a beer, and this has been an emotional rollercoaster I was unprepared for."

Yeah, that about sums it up.

He hasn't spent much time with Eddie since he woke up, spending those weeks juggling babysitting duties and his own injuries and helping with the relief effort and sitting vigil at Max's side. He popped in on Eddie when he was in the building for Max, but the Munson room always had someone in it- Wayne, or Dustin, or Mike, or one of the Corroded Coffin guys- and Steve always felt a bit like an intruder. So he hasn't had a chance to feel out the suspicions he formed during that surreal week when everything was still in the process of exploding, and honestly he's been feeling a little too distant to work up the energy to bother. Robin's bugged him about it once or twice since March, but he shrugged her off each time and she hasn't brought it up in a while.

Ah, what the hell. It's already been such a weird night, and Steve is honestly feeling better than he has in weeks, and he wants to ride this high wherever it'll take him.

Emotional rollercoaster, huh? Well, Steve can make that worse.

At least Eddie hasn't seemed homophobic, kind of the opposite, actually. That's a good sign if Steve's ever seen one.

He pushes off the door, stalking toward Eddie with intent and digging deep inside himself for whatever remains of the person he used to be, who could drop panties with a single look. Eddie's eyes go very round, and he stumbles back a little into the counter.

"You know, Munson, I've had a question I've been meaning to ask you for a while now. Haven't found a good moment."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie's voice comes out in what can only be called a squeak, and Steve feels powerful. That rush of confidence he hasn't felt since BN (Before Nancy) fills his chest, and he can feel his grin turn sharp. "Ho- uh." Eddie clears his throat. "How long's a while?"

Steve purses his lips, relishing the way Eddie's eyes drop down like he can't help it and his cheeks flush, and pretends to consider the question. "Oh, since Skull Rock, probably."

"O-oh? That's. Um. That is a long time." He's still staring at Steve's lips. Good. "Well, shoot, Stevie-boy. Ask away."

Steve lets his smile spread across his face slowly, keeping Eddie's eyes where he wants them. Yeah, he's still got it. Like riding a bike.

"Do you wear this bandana on purpose, or is it just a fashion statement?"

Eddie's eyes snap up to meet his own, shocked.

"Wh-what? Bandana? I. Um. What?"

"Are you flagging, Eddie?" Steve doesn't back up, toe to toe with Eddie as he reaches out and tugs lightly on the hanky trailing out of his back pocket, as always.

He may not have had the energy to talk to Eddie about it yet, but his curiosity did get the better of him after the "earthquakes," and he did dig out that zine where he originally learned about the code. He knows what a black hanky in the back left pocket means now. It's...a little daunting, but not a turn-off. Not at all. Kind of the other thing.

God he hopes Eddie knows what it means.

Eddie seems floored by this line of questioning. He's bright red and sputtering, his mouth opening and closing without saying anything. Steve lets himself stare. This'll go however it goes, but he's not ashamed. He's no more embarrassed to want Eddie than he would be to want a girl, which is to say, not at all.

"I- you- what? What? You- you know what flagging is?" He hisses the end of the sentence in a harsh whisper, so much like Robin did when he first told her about his crush that he can't stop himself from giggling.

Wrong move, since Eddie clearly takes this personally, and his expression shutters closed. Whoops.

"Hey, hey, no no no, none of that, hey. I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you, I swear."

"Right, sure, I believe that, considering there's nothing goddamn else to laugh at in this kitchen, Harrington." Eddie is glaring at the floor, arms crossed defensively across his chest.

Alright, maybe he gets what Vickie was saying earlier. Fuck the codes, fuck the metaphors. He can take Eddie in a fight if he has to. He's a simple guy, ok? He just wants to use his goddamn words.

Robin would be so proud.

He goes slowly, telegraphing every move so Eddie can stop him if he wants. He reaches for his hands where they're tucked into his elbows, gently easing them out until they're clasped between them.

He takes the opportunity to finally feel those rings he's fantasized about, seeing if they're as cool as they look. They aren't, they're warm from Eddie's skin. He spins one of them around Eddie's finger with his thumb, transfixed.

Eddie still looks tense, but now instead of hurt and distrust on his face, he looks like Steve hit in him in the head with something heavy. His pretty eyes are so big, blown completely black as he stares at their joined hands.

"I'm sorry I laughed. I was remembering the first time I told Robin I had a crush on you," Eddie's head snaps up again, "and she sounded exactly like you did just now, with that angry whisper voice. It made me laugh, that you guys are so alike. It makes sense, I guess. She's my favorite person, so of course I'd like you, when you're like. Not the same, I guess, but kinda a similar flavor of weird. She says I have a thing for nerds, y'know?"

Eddie blinks at him for a minute, apparently speechless. Some nerves start to creep back in, since the brief miscommunication scare burned out most of that white hot King Steve confidence in his chest. They must show on his face, because Eddie visibly shakes himself and finally opens his mouth.

"You have a crush on me?"

"Yeah, man, since the Upside Down, pretty much. The first time."

"Don't call me man when you're telling me you have a crush on me!"

Steve has to laugh at the comically offended look on Eddie's face. "Sorry. Do you prefer Eds? Baby? Big Boy?"

Eddie is so red Steve is surprised his face isn't steaming. He yanks one hand out of Steve's grip to smack him in the chest. Steve laughs and lets him, dropping their still-joined hands down between them and tangling their fingers.

"You're a fucking dick, Stevie. Can't believe I like you."

Steve grins at him, big and hopeful. "Yeah? You like me, Munson?"

Eddie shoves at him with a groan, but doesn't let go of his hand. "Pretty sure everyone in this town likes you, King Steve. It's like a rite of passage, or something."

Steve feels like he could walk on air, he isn't even going to get fussy about the King Steve thing. They can talk about that later. Eddie likes him! Eddie has a crush on him! He could fight a demogorgon with his bare hands right now, that's how powerful he feels.

Eddie gets quiet after a second, tugging a curl in front of his mouth again. Seems like a nervous tick, maybe. Steve notes that for later. He may not be much of a reader, but he's going to learn to read Eddie Munson like a book if it's the last thing he does.

"I thought, um. I kinda...hn. Ugh."

"Gonna need more than that, baby, I'm not fluent in Munson yet." That glow in his chest picks up a little again at the way Eddie flushes so pink and pretty at the petname.

"I thought you were straight." It comes out all in a rush, the words mumbled and slurred together through his hair.

Finally, it's Steve's turn to raise an eyebrow. Take that, universe! "You meet a lot of straight guys who know what the Hanky Code is?"

Eddie shakes his head in wonderment. "Still can't believe The Steve Harrington knows what flagging is."

He's about to reply when the kitchen door flies open with a bang that sends the boys leaping backwards away from each other. Steve finds himself braced between Eddie and the door, brandishing the bottle opener from the fridge in front of him like a knife. He doesn't even remember grabbing it.

Robin is standing in the doorway, eyes wild and hair frizzing out around her head in a way she would despise if she was sober and not obviously preoccupied with something else.

"Jesus, Robs, you about gave me a heart attack, what the hell?"

"Sorry bubba, not important right now!"

He rolls his eyes. Of course not. Just his trauma that could have made him stab her if he hadn't caught himself, nothing major. This girl, he swears.

"Dingus! Focus!"

"Focus on what, Bobs?"

"She wants to kiss me, Steve!"

His eyes go wide. Thank fuck the door bounced off the wall and swung back shut behind her. That's not something to shout to a party full of gossipy strangers.

Still. This is a big moment! "Bobbie! What'd I tell you, huh?" He picks her up around the middle, swinging her around while she cackles wildly and bats at his shoulders.

"Put me down, you lunatic! Steven Elizabeth, you put me down right now, or I swear I'll never speak to you again!" She's laughing too hard for him to take her seriously, though.

He does take pity on her and set her back on her feet, stealing one more tight hug. He's so happy for her he could scream. This night has turned out better than he could have imagined.

"Tell me everything! What happened! What did she say? What did you say? How was the kiss?"

"Well we didn't actually kiss yet, exactly."

"Wait, then how do you know she wants to kiss you?"

"She told me! She said she thinks I'm really pretty and funny and smart and she's like you! She likes both, and she says her and Dan are done, like for real for real all the way done, and she held my hand, Steve! And she wants to go on a date! And she said she wanted to kiss me!"

"That's awesome! I'm so happy for you, Bobs. What did you say when she said she wanted to kiss you?"

"I came down to tell you about it, obviously."

Oh, Bobbie, what the fuck. "Robin James Buckley. Do not tell me that a pretty girl tried to kiss you and you ran away and left her upstairs!"

The situation finally seems to register, and Robbie's hands go flailing around her face the way they do when she's overwhelmed.

"Oh no! Steve! Oh no!"

"Go, you insane person! Go back upstairs right now and kiss her this minute! Go!"

He physically herds her to the door, at which point she finally notices Eddie, who has been standing in the corner where Steve shoved him behind him when the door crashed open, watching them like he's wishing he had popcorn.

Fuck. Steve was so excited for Robbie he totally forgot he was here.

Robin's body goes rigid and all the color drains out of her face all at once.

Steve grabs her by the shoulders. "Hey, Bobbin, eyes on me, ok? Eyes on me." She finally drags her eyes away from where she's been staring at Eddie in horror, and Steve's heart breaks at the fear on her face. "It's ok, Bobbie, I swear to god it's ok. I was right, alright? I was right about him, we were talking before you came in. He's safe, I swear. We're safe, Bobbie, I promise I'll keep you safe."

"I promise I won't say a word, Birdie. Friends of Dorothy gotta stick together, right?" Eddie pipes up from the corner, stepping forward slowly and carefully, hands out front like he's approaching a skittish animal.

"You're- you're like u- me?" Oh, he loves her so much. Still protecting him, just in case.

"It's ok Bobs, I told him about me. I was about to get a kiss of my own before you came in, I think, actually."

Eddie jumps on the opportunity to cut the tension, ever the showman. Steve likes him so goddamn much. He grins impishly at Steve, that wide pretty mouth stretching out until those dimples Steve can't wait to kiss appear on his cheeks.

"Oh, you were, were you? Pretty presumptuous, Stevie-boy. Who says I kiss on the first date? Maybe I'm not that kind of boy."

"Oh, wow, ok, this is gonna be a lot to deal with, huh? Alright, I'm glad I'm not getting hate-crimed, and I'm glad you're finally doing something about your big gay crush, Dingus, but if you'll excuse me, I have a girl to kiss, and also I want to be far away from," she waves a hand between them, "whatever this is. Good luck boys, don't kiss in unlocked rooms! Vickie says she can give me a ride home, so I'll call you in the morning, bubba. Love you bye!"

She's out of the room like a shot, hopefully back up to Vickie, who he hopes is prepared to get used to this kind of thing. There are so many things to love about Robin Buckley, and honestly, this is one of them, but he can see why she might be an acquired taste. He thinks anyone who doesn't acquire that taste is a moron and not worth knowing, but he can see how those people might exist.

"Love you too, Robs!" he calls down the hallway, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it. It's not a lock, but as long as he doesn't move, it'll do. And given that Eddie appears to have found his confidence and is leaning over him, bracing his arms on either side of Steve's head, he doesn't think he'll have to move any time soon.

Unless someone needs the kitchen, but they've been doing just fine so far, so they can burn that bridge when they come to it, or whatever people say.

He reaches down to toy with Eddie's belt loops, tugging him close and grinning up at him through his eyelashes, privately thrilled at the novelty of being shorter than his partner for once. Granted, he's slumped down the door a little, but still. It's nice. He can see why girls like it.

Eddie comes closer easily, resting their foreheads together. He reaches down to fiddle with a lock of Steve's hair and Steve feels like leaning into it like a cat getting its ears rubbed.

Lot of cat feelings tonight. He's not sure what to do with that.

"So.”

“So.”

“Steven Elizabeth, huh?"

Steve can't help but laugh, the tension broken once more. "Yeah, Rob's idea. We switched. Steven Elizabeth and Robin James. So we always have a piece of each other."

"Jesus H Christ, you guys are fucking adorable. This shit is why everyone thinks you're dating, though, you know that, right?"

"Ugh, yeah, I know. I don't actually mind, I mean, I should be so lucky, you know? And she's like. My person. My most important person. And we're probably gonna get married someday just so we can be each other's next of kin, and because it's not like she could marry whoever she ends up with anyway, or me if I end up with a guy, so it's like, why not, you know? I'd be building my life around her anyway, might as well make it legal.

"It's mostly just annoying when our friends don't believe us, because like, we're honest with you guys. Maybe not all of it, like Robbie isn't ready to be out and that's fine and she shouldn't have to be, but it kinda sucks that, like, Dustin thinks I would lie to him, you know? Because I wouldn't. Not about something real. Not when it matters. But he doesn't believe me, and that just. I dunno, man."

"It hurts."

"Yeah."

"I get that. You've been through a lot for these kids, you've put yourself on the line for them, you've given up a lot for them, and when they don't believe you about something like this, it feels like they're saying they don't trust you. Of course that hurts."

Steve swallows down the tears that want to fall. Now isn't the time for vulnerability like that, not in a stranger's crowded house. Still.

"How'd you do that?"

"Do what, sweetheart?" Oh, sweetheart does something to him. If this is how Eddie felt when he called him baby earlier, the blush makes more sense.

"Figure out exactly what I'm trying to say, and make it make sense. Usually only Robbie can do that."

"I dunno, maybe Birdie and me share a brain. Or maybe you and I just make sense to each other."

Steve flattens a palm against Eddie's chest, feeling the soothing thump beneath his hand. He did that. He put his hands on Eddie's chest and his mouth on Eddie's mouth and broke Eddie's ribs and didn't stop until that rhythm started up again. And now Eddie's here, and Eddie's heart is still beating, and Eddie hears him when he talks, and Eddie is looking at his lips again, and Steve suddenly can't go another second without kissing him.

He trails his hand up Eddie's chest, over his neck, savoring the way his breath hitches and the pulse under his palm speeds up. He keeps going, pushing his fingers into that thick riot of curls, already making mental notes of the products he's going to buy for Eddie because Jesus Christ, they're dry.

He tugs, and again, Eddie comes easy. It's not an earth-shattering kiss. There's no tongue, and their noses are a little smushed, and the angle is a little off, and he's kissed enough people that he can tell Eddie probably hasn't, but none of that matters.

He told Robin, back in that field, that he was holding off feelings he knew he would have for Eddie when all was said and done. He knows now he was right, and he's done holding them off. Has been done for a while, maybe.

He doesn't know where this is going, or what Eddie wants, or how they'll manage being two guys in a town like Hawkins, or what their friends will think. If they'll even tell their friends. What he does know is that he wants to find out the answers to all of those, and he wants to find them out with Eddie, and he wants to keep kissing Eddie, and also that he can't keep kissing Eddie here.

He pulls back, pecking that dimple finally, partly to reassure Eddie that he isn't running away and partly because he's wanted to for weeks, and pulls the kitchen door open, checking that the coast is clear before grabbing Eddie's hand and dragging him towards the front door.

"Where we going, Stevie?"

"You drove here, right?"

"Sure did. You want a ride somewhere? I thought you drove Birdie."

"I did, but you've got your van, don't you? Your van with doors that lock and a big open back seat?"

Eddie's eyes go wide, and he flails a little, just like Robin. It makes Steve smile.

"Yep! Yes, yeah, hell yeah, I do have my van, my van with those things, let's go! Chop chop, time's a-wasting! Your chariot awaits!" And he's off, doing that dorky little run for the driveway.

Steve grins, and puts his hands in his pockets, and follows his boy out into the night.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Dancing in the Moonlight

A Stedancy fanfiction based on the Breakfast Club

Nancy wasn't sure how she got detention. It was Carol who had started it. . .talking shit about Barb. Nancy had seen red, and the next thing she had known, she was beating the shit out of Carol. Carol had fought back, but somehow, she had escaped getting in trouble, running away yet again before the teachers had seen her face. Anyway, there she was, walking into the library to serve her detention on a Saturday, no less. Principal Higgins told her she should be grateful that she didn't get more time or expelled, but because of what happened with Miss Holland, they were letting her off easy.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath.

Nancy was surprised when she saw Steve sitting at the table. His bruises were starting to fade from when Jonathan beat the shit out of him, but he also had new ones.

"Are you here to study, or is Nancy Wheeler actually in detention?" Steve asked in disbelief.

"Carol," she explained as she sat down next to him.

"Hm, Tommy," Steve said.

"Did they have a meeting to talk about who's going to take who?" Nancy asked.

"Probably. I just wanted Tommy to stop fucking with Jonathan," Steve said.

"He was messing with Jonathan?" Nancy asked.

Just as Steve was about to open his mouth to say something else, Principal Higgins came dragging Eddie Munson in. He tossed Eddie into the chair next to Steve.

"I keep telling you that she wanted me to clean her classroom so I could use it for Hellfire!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Her locked door that you tried to break into says otherwise. Now, you three are going to stay here, and you will write an essay on how sorry you are for your rotten behavior. Am I clear?" Higgins asked.

"Crystal," they said in unison, and Eddie cackled.

Higgins glared at Eddie before walking out the library door and locking the door behind him.

"Why would he bother locking the door? Didn't he catch you picking a lock?" Steve asked.

"Excellent point, King Steve," Eddie grinned.

"I hate that nickname," Steve said.

"It seems a touch better than the Hair," Eddie said.

"I mean, it's true, I do have hair, so is it really an insult?" Steve asked.

"You got me. . .okay, what is Nancy Wheeler in for?" Eddie asked. "I assume you got into a fight. . .wait, was it with each other?"

"No," Nancy said, rolling her eyes. "Carol Perkins is a bitch."

"I heard you two went a few rounds in the hallway," Eddie said. "Didn't believe it, but judging by the shiner, I guess it's true."

"It's my fault. They're pissed at me," Steve said. "And they're taking it out on both of us, on Jonathan too."

"Well, that's petty of them. You had every right to walk away," Nancy said. "They're assholes."

"I should have done it a long time ago," Steve said. "I just kept waiting for him to be the same old Tommy again, like when we were kids. Then he left me for this summer camp his dad wanted him to go to and he came back with a girlfriend. He was just this asshole. He didn't even want to cuddle anymore."

"You and Hagan cuddled?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah," Steve said. "Don't you cuddle and share the bed with your friends?"

"No," Eddie said, said looking at him oddly. "Not with my friends."

"I used to cuddle with Barb all the time," Nancy said.

"That's different," Eddie said, and then he looked at her. "Or maybe it's not."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nancy asked.

"Boy, you two are a lot more interesting than I thought you'd be," Eddie said, flashing his dimples.

"You know, maybe we should get to work on this essay," Nancy said.

"Where's the fun in that?" He asked.

"It's not supposed to be. It's our punishment," Nancy replied.

"Please, we have plenty of time. Higgins is always busy during this time. It's the only time Higgins can fuck his secretary without his wife finding out," Eddie said.

"Bullshit," Steve scoffed. "You're making this up."

"Well, come on, I'll show you, big boy," Eddie winked. "You're welcome to come too, princess."

"No, thank you," Nancy scoffed. "And don't call me princess."

"Ah, come on, you don't want to find out if I'm right or not?" He asked. "Not even a little curious? Come on, we'll be back before you know it. They take a nap on his couch right after, and they're pretty much out for a long time."

"Here's a question: Why don't you just leave?" Steve asked.

"Where's the fun in that when I can run around the place like I own it? Plus I like to leave little presents in people's lockers," Eddie said and then paused, wincing. "Which is how I inadvertently got you together."

"What?" Nancy and Steve asked.

"Okay. So, I put a note in your locker, and I put a note in yours but turns out neither one of the lockers was the right one," Eddie said. "Instead of the people I was hoping for, you two waltzed into the library and assumed that you two were each other's secret admirers. It wasn't even supposed to be like that. These two assholes had assumed that I sold drugs, so I had to mess with them."

"Why would they assume that?" Steve asked.

"Because I'm pretty sure that my father is friends with Reefer Rick and they just assume that it's going to be in my future. . .which they're probably right," Eddie said. "I haven't gotten that desperate yet, though."

"So, you put the notes in our lockers?" Nancy asked in amusement. "I was wondering why your handwriting suddenly changed."

"I was wondering why yours changed," Steve blinked rapidly.

"And neither thought to ask each other about it," Eddie said, laughing. "Excellent detective skills. . .you should join the force."

"You know what? Let's go," Nancy scowled.

Eddie laughed after them and hurried to the locked door, pulling a bobby pin out of his hair, shaking his hair like he was doing a sexy modeling shoot. He winked at them and then stuck out his tongue as he went to unlock the door. Nancy stared at this man. She wasn't sure what to think of him. His energy was that of a puppy who might have gotten into the sugar. He was wild, and his limbs moved as if they weren't totally attached to his body. His wide brown eyes were cute and earnest with cute dimples to match. Nancy could tell that Steve liked him, too.

"Voila!" Eddie exclaimed. "Yeah, he definitely shouldn't have left me alone with you two. I'm going to corrupt you before the day is over. You two need a little spice in your relationship, anyway."

Eddie wrapped his arms around the both of them, leading them down the empty hallway.

"Yeah, we're not really together," Steve muttered.

"Aw. . .why not?" he asked. "After all that hard work that I did?"

"What work?" Nancy asked. "It was an accident."

"Yeah, I totally messed it all up," Steve shrugged.

"Is it because of what happened at the Hawk?" Eddie asked. "Yeah, everyone heard about that. Nancy the Slut Wheeler. Hey, do you want to switch nicknames because I think I might actually prefer that over freak?"

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Okay, big thing about asshole bullies is that it takes away some of their power if you laugh with them and you make them more uncomfortable than they made you. I wear the mantle of freak proudly and I actually like it," Eddie said.

"Yeah, but slut. . ." Nancy trailed.

"Is a word that misogynistic assholes made up to make women feel bad about enjoying sex as much as men do," Eddie said. "Wear it proudly, and they'll eventually realize that it can't hurt you. They're going to use it, anyway, might as well make it more uncomfortable for them, but that's your choice. . .just like you choosing to sleep with Harrie here."

"You are NOT calling me that," Steve scowled.

"Powers all in the game, baby," Eddie smirked. "It only bothers you if you let it. . .sweetheart."

"Okay, you're doing this on purpose," Steve blushed and then paused. "So. . .like, I don't think I ever had a problem with people calling me something, not like it bothered you. Jesus, maybe I should just bully myself then. . .just to make it even."

"I'll be your bully, big boy," Eddie said, squeezing his shoulder. "I'll call you all sorts of names."

"Steve, you more than made up for what happened at the Hawk," Nancy said. "You don't need to apologize for it, anymore. Besides, Tommy and Carol were the ones who spray painted those words."

"Yeah, but I didn't stop them," Steve said.

"Steve, you did so much for me and Jonathan," Nancy said softly. "You saved our lives from the . . . wild dog. It was rabid and it would have killed us."

"Damn, you did that?" Eddie asked.

"She also saved us, too," Steve said. "She's badass."

"Really?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, I mean, she also almost took my head off," Steve said.

"Heat of the moment," Nancy said teasingly. "And you almost deserved it."

Nancy peered around Eddie, gazing at Steve with her eyes twinkling.

"Okay, you guys have to stop being so cute," he grinned. "Also, turn down this hallway and out this door. Higgins does not keep the blinds all the way closed."

Eddie turned them down the hallway and out of the door that led outside. He led them to a window with slightly opened blinds. He pushed them down and guided their eyes to the fornication that was happening in Higgins' office.

"Oh my god!" Nancy exclaimed.

"Jesus!" Steve said.

"Yeah, it's horrible, isn't it?" Eddie asked.

"Why are they doing it in that position?" Nancy asked. "It looks so uncomfortable."

"Apparently, Higgins likes it like that," he replied.

"It doesn't look like she does," Steve said. "Yeah, she's definitely faking."

"What the hell are we doing here?" Nancy asked. "We shouldn't be looking at this. . .but I can't look away."

"It's like a train wreck," he said. "Plus, someone needs to know when they fall asleep."

"But why is she letting him do that if she doesn't like it?" Nancy asked.

"It's all about power, Wheeler," Eddie said. "The thrill that she gets from this is that he's in a position of power and she's using that to make her feel special. Even more special is if she's doing something that he won't do with his wife. . .she gets off on it."

"This feels like an animal documentary," Steve said.

"Not even animals would do it like that," Eddie cackled.

"I'm sorry but I can't look at this anymore," Nancy laughed and slid down against the wall. "Tell me when it's over. Hey, would this be enough to get him fired?"

"Probably," Eddie said. "But we have no proof. I doubt anyone would believe even you."

Steve slid down next to Nancy, who smiled at him.

"This is weird," Nancy said and he laughed.

"By the way, you pay up, Wheeler, I was right!" Eddie exclaimed.

"We didn't make a bet, Munson," she said in amusement.

"Damn," he cursed. "Okay! They're done. They're now lying down. Let's go fuck shit up."

"Or we could work on the essay," Nancy said.

"You're only young once, Wheeler. How many times are you going to run around the school and cause chaos without worrying about the consequences?" Eddie asked and bent down to her level. "Live a little, Nancy."

Eddie held out his hand, and she stared at it before looking up at him.

"What can we put in Carol's locker?" Nancy asked.

"There she is," Eddie cackled as she took his head. "Come on, Harrie."

Eddie grabbed his hand and dragged them back inside. They followed him to a locker that was obviously Eddie's. It had a warning in the front: Beware all Ye Who Enter Here. He dropped their hands, popping open the locker as he winked at them.

"This guy thinks he's the Fonz," Steve said to Nancy and she laughed.

"Please, I'm nowhere near as cool," Eddie said, grinning. "Okay. . .what do you think? Fake spider or fake snake?"

"Oh, definitely go for the snake. Carol is afraid of snakes," Steve said.

"Okay, show us the way to her locker, my liege," Eddie said, bowing to Steve.

"Don't do that," Steve said, and Nancy giggled.

Steve showed Eddie Carol's locker, and they watched as Eddie figured out the combination. Nancy thought it was cute that Eddie poked his tongue out whenever he was doing something like that. Steve clearly thought so, too. Nancy enjoyed the way Steve blushed when Eddie called him by a nickname like baby or sweetheart. She wasn't sure what was going on here, but something about it felt right. Finally, Eddie got the locker open and held out the fake snake for Nancy.

"You want to do the honors, princess?" Eddie asked.

"Don't call me that," Nancy said, but there wasn't any heat behind her words.

"Alright. . .slut then," Eddie said and Nancy laughed.

"Freak," she said affectionately.

She grabbed the snake from Eddie and placed it in Carol's locker. She giggled as she closed the door and locked it back.

"Nancy Wheeler, official menace to society," Eddie said.

"Do I win anything?" Nancy teased, and he laughed.

Eddie flashed his dimples at her before pulling a rainbow pin off of his vest and pinned it to her jacket.

"You'll figure it out when you figure it out," Eddie said patting the pin.

"What?" Nancy and Steve asked.

"Just keep walking down that road, man, you'll get there eventually," Eddie said.

"You're annoyingly cryotic," Steve said. "I can't figure you out."

"Isn't that the fun of it?" Eddie asked, throwing his arm around Steve. "Life is just full of surprises. For instance, I thought you two were going to be a lot more scarier."

"Yeah, we thought the same thing," Nancy said.

"Well, that figures. . .and it's not very surprising considering I enjoy scaring the shit out of people," Eddie said.

"Ally didn't appreciate it when you jumped out of the closet as she was about to go to the bathroom," Nancy said.

"I just like to keep people on their toes," Eddie said. "Anyway, Steve. . .let's do something wild and crazy."

"I don't know, it seems like you've done some pretty wild and crazy things. What haven't you done?" Steve asked.

"I haven't played basketball, that would be pretty fucking wild," Eddie said.

"Well, first time for everything," Steve grinned.

This time, it was Steve grabbing Eddie and Nancy's hands, leading them towards the gym. Eddie whistled and tilted his head.

"Nice view," Eddie said, and Nancy laughed.

"Shut up," Steve said.

Steve threw open the gym doors with a confidence that Nancy hadn't seen in a while, but it was certainly appreciated. He swaggered into the gym, Nancy was pretty sure they were both watching Steve’s hips move. Suddenly, she wondered if she was going to have to fight this guy for Steve’s affection, and she fought back a giggle at the thought.

"Alright, teach us, Master," Eddie said.

"I'm playing?" Nancy asked.

"Can't leave you out. I want to see your moves," Steve said as he grabbed a basketball.

Eddie grinned, grabbing his vest and his jacket. He did it in one fluid, quick motion. He took them both off, slipping out of them as though an invisible force had helped him out of his clothes. He was wearing a red crop top with ripped off sleeves. On his arm was a tattoo of a scary looking man holding a puppet.

"Because you're no one's puppet?" Nancy asked.

"Also, because he does move around like a marionette," Steve said with a grin.

"Fuck off," Eddie said. "That's a big word for a jock."

Steve laughed and threw the ball hard at him. Eddie managed to catch it, but it had knocked some wind out of him.

"I'm full of surprises, remember?" Steve asked.

"Well, show us how it's done, Harrie," Eddie said. "You do seem to know a thing or two about handling balls."

Nancy let out a loud snort of laughter and clapped a hand over her mouth as Eddie tossed him the ball back.

"Yeah, and you definitely seem to know how to take them," Steve said as he threw the ball to Eddie again.

"Oh, I take them very well. . .amongst other things," Eddie said, winking at Nancy. "My pretty mouth was definitely made to take it all."

"Let's play," Steve said, his face red and his eyes dark.

The next thing she knew, she was being taught by Steve the proper way to toss a ball into the basket. Nancy knew more about how to throw a ball than she let on. She just enjoyed the feel of Steve’s hands on her hips. It seems like Eddie had picked up on her trick, and she watched as he leaned further into Steve’s touch, backing up against him. Pretty soon, they were getting into playing the game. After a while, though, Eddie had to pause for a minute to catch his breath.

"That's what happens when you smoke," Nancy had taunted, and she laughed when Eddie had managed to flip her off.

"Goddamn it, this is actually fun," Eddie pouted. "I feel like Bilbo discovering he actually likes adventures. Don't tell anyone."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to ruin your precious reputation," Steve had mocked.

Once Eddie had caught his breath, he took off after him. Eddie managed to successfully catch Steve, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. Once he had him secure, he lifted Steve up off the ground. Steve hollered.

"Yeah, I'm stronger than I look," Eddie said and spun Steve around.

"Let me go, asshole!" Steve laughed.

Eddie laughed and set Steve on the floor, smacking his ass. He glanced at Nancy, looking amused, and his smile widened.

"You're next, princess," Eddie said.

"No!" Nancy shrieked and took off.

Eddie managed to catch her and spin her like Steve. She laughed and didn't fight him too hard. Eddie ran towards Steve.

"Does this count as traveling?" Eddie asked with Nancy still in his arms.

"Oh, yeah," Steve laughed.

"What do you say?" Eddie asked. "Toss her in the basket?"

Steve nodded and moved to help boost Nancy onto their shoulders. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Somehow she managed to hold onto them.

"Don't you dare!" Nancy shrieked.

"Oh, come on, you're definitely worth more points," Steve said.

"No!" Nancy said.

"The lady does not consent. . .we should release her back into the wild," Eddie said.

"I am not an animal," Nancy giggled.

"Oh, sweetheart, we're all animals," Eddie said. "Anyone who tells you otherwise is probably selling you something."

Eddie and Steve let her slide down into their arms to ease her back on the ground. Nancy found herself sandwiched between the two of them, which she found wasn't a terrible situation to be in. She slapped Steve’s chest playfully before doing the same with Eddie.

"Miss Wheeler! Mister Harrington! Mister Munson!" They heard a yell from the doorway.

Higgins was standing there, looking wide awake and rather pissed.

"Morning, sleeping beauty?" Eddie asked. "Your back okay?"

Once again, they found themselves locked inside the library. Except somehow, this time, Higgins had put something in front of the door.

"Does this seem like child abuse to you guys?" Eddie asked.

"A little bit," Nancy said.

"Let's sue!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Let's not and say we did," Steve said. "My dad would love to take people for all their worth. Wouldn't want to take money from other kids."

"Fair point," Eddie said. "Although, we could just sue Higgins and not the school."

Nancy watched in amusement as they discussed in detail how they would get back at Higgins. They ended up crashing with their heads on the table. They had played harder than she had with all the wrestling they had done. Nancy had tried really hard not to find that arousing. She had failed. Did she really try that hard, though? This detention was certainly turning out to be a lot more interesting than she thought it would be.

While they slept, Nancy pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil. She stared at the paper, finally finding a time to work on the essay, but found she couldn't think of a thing to write. She stared at the page for a long time, tapping the eraser against the table. The adrenaline started to fade from the excitement of the day, and it really sunk in that this had been the most fun she had since Barb had been alive. Nancy couldn't help but feel guilty about that. It's not fair. . .She should be here. . .she should know how great Steve is and meet Eddie. Would she actually like them, though, or would she judge Nancy for changing just a little bit?

"This isn't you, Nance," Barb's voice whispered in her ear.

Nancy's bottom lip trembled, and a tear slipped from her eye, dropping on the blank piece of paper. Well, at least there was something on it now. She couldn't stop the tears from coming once they came. Nancy's shoulders shook, and she stuffed a knuckle into her mouth so she wouldn't wake the boys. The library was big and quiet, though. Every sob she made could be heard, and it startled Eddie awake. He quickly moved to her side.

"Hey, what's with the tears, princess?" Eddie asked.

"I miss Barb," Nancy said.

"Right, she's the one who - " Eddie started to say.

"Don't say she ran away!" Nancy yelled, startling Steve awake.

"Nance?" He asked, moving to her other side.

"She died, and they covered it up! I can't do anything about it!" Nancy sobbed. "And I had fun today. Without her and I just feel. . .I just feel so guilty. I'm here, and she's not. It doesn't make sense."

"I'm sorry," Eddie said softly.

Nancy stood up from her chair, knocking it back, and she began to pace.

"It's not fucking fair and I know we can't say anything," Nancy said. "What do I say to her parents?"

"What's stopping you?" Eddie asked. "Is it those "Department of Energy" people?"

Nancy and Steve shared a look with each other. They looked skeptically at Eddie.

"That's a really good guess," Steve said.

"Well, you have a suspicious looking building like that in Hawkins with creepy looking vans. . .well, of course, it's going to make you wonder about what's in there," Eddie said. "My uncle has all sorts of theories."

"Well, we can't tell you," Nancy sniffled.

"But you know?" He asked.

"We wish we didn't," Steve said.

"Okay. . .so if you can't tell me, then you can't tell me," Eddie shrugged. "I'm curious as hell, but I'm a big boy. . .it's fucked up that they covered up your friend's death by saying she ran away."

"She wouldn't do that," Nancy said.

"Well. . .shit. . .I'm not very good at this sort of thing. . .comforting and all that," Eddie said. "Uh, let me try. . .hold on. . .uh, fuck, just wait a minute. . . Nope. I don't know what to say."

Nancy laughed and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"Thanks for trying," Nancy whispered.

Eddie squeezed her tightly. Nancy felt Steve touch her shoulder for a moment, and she nodded, letting him know that she wanted him to join in on the hug as well. Steve wrapped his arms around the both of them, pressing his chin to the top of her head. She never felt so safe like she did just then. It was weird how she hardly knew the guy but at the same time she felt so utterly safe and comforted in his arms. She had missed Steve's touch and the warmth of his hug. It was so overwhelming, exploding all of her senses all at once. The floodgates opened and she sobbed harder than ever before.

She didn't know how to deal with Barb's death, how to deal with her absence, and she had hoped that Jonathan would be there for her. She understood, though, that his brother and his mother needed him as well. Nancy thought it was probably for the best because there was a terrible part of her that was jealous that Barb hadn't come back, but Will had. Why couldn't she have lived as well? Every time she thought of Jonathan, she thought of Will. They had him back, but why didn't she have Barb? Is it because of what she did with Steve? Is it because she had been so wrapped up in wanting to be with Steve that she had just abandoned her best friend?

"I left her there. . . All alone, and I didn't even know. I was too busy thinking about Steve. It's all I cared about, and she was left alone by the pool. Whenever I think about you, Steve, I feel guilty. I'm sorry because you don't deserve that.," Nancy cried..

"Hey, you don't deserve that either," Steve said softly. "If I did nothing wrong then you didn't do anything wrong either."

"I just don't know why," Nancy said.

"Because she's here and you're not," Eddie said. "Life is always going to find a way to screw you over, to knock you down, and really make you hate yourself. You got to find the moments to grab a slice of life and enjoy yourself. I think if she was really your best friend, she'd want you to be happy. Was there anything that you could have done?"

"I mean, if we had known . . . " Nancy trailed off.

"Was there any way for you to know?" Eddie asked.

"Not unless we saw the future," she sniffled.

"Then there's nothing that you could have done," he replied. "Did you kill her?"

"No," she said.

"Then it's not your fault," Eddie said. "Unless you being with Steve somehow caused her to magically drop dead, you couldn't have done anything about whatever happened that night."

"I don't know how to stop blaming myself," Nancy sniffled.

"It just takes time. I still blame myself for the assholes who go after my friends," Eddie said. "By association, they suffer because of me but my friend Ronnie keeps telling me that they wouldn't have a place to go if it wasn't because of me and Hellfire. I'm not sure if I believe her or not. I don't know how to stop blaming myself. I guess the only thing we can do is find something good to do with all the shit that we go through. I still haven't figure that how to do that, yet. It makes me want to run away sometimes but then I realize that if I do that, those assholes get exactly what they want."

"You have to stand your ground," Nancy whispered.

"Or stand up on lunch tables," Steve said and Nancy laughed.

"Thank you both," Nancy whispered.

"I'm here if you need me, Nance," Steve told her.

"I know," she replied.

"You know what we need to do. . .dance it out," Eddie grinned.

He ran to the librarian's desk and dove over it, knocking shit over. He popped back up, carrying a radio. He plopped it onto the desk and turned it on. He hopped off the desk and started wiggling his hips, beckoning Nancy to come over to him.

"No!" she laughed, shaking her head.

"Come on, Wheeler," Eddie said, and moved close to her, touching her forehead gently with his. "I don't think Barb would want you to forget how to live."

Nancy sighed, staring at him for a moment. She smiled and took his hand, letting him pull her into his arms. They danced wildly about the room, Nancy throwing her head back and laughing as he spun her around. She could feel Steve watching them and as Eddie dipped her, she saw how fond he looked at them both. The music stopped for a moment as the person on the radio began to speak.

"How come you aren't dancing, Steve?" Nancy asked.

"Maybe he can't dance," Eddie said and Nancy gasped mockingly.

"Oh, I can dance," Steve scoffed. "I can't definitely dance."

"Then show me your moves," Nancy said and holding out her hand.

"Dancing in the Moonlight" came on and Steve stared at her with a soft smile. He took her hand and pulled her close. Nancy smiled as she looked up at him, taking notice of the green in his eyes and how they twinkled at her. He didn't dance wildly as he did Eddie but as he moved Nancy around the room, he sang to her. Apparently, he knew the words very well. Nancy grinned as she remembered the time he sang Bob Seger to her. She had been very distracted at the time, but she had liked it. Suddenly, he was spinning her and he let her go. He took Eddie's hand and pulled him into his arms.

"Oh!" Eddie exclaimed and Nancy laughed.

She watched as Steve did the same thing with Eddie; an arm wrapped securely around his waist. Steve made sure that Nancy knew that he was putting on this show just for her. He dipped Eddie much like Eddie had dipped Nancy. All three of them ended up collapsing onto the floor, their heads touching.

"Okay. . .who drew that dick on the ceiling and how the fuck did they do that?" Steve said. "Or is this like cloud watching? Am I just seeing dicks?"

"I did that," Eddie said. "And I've got skills, baby."

"With dicks?" Nancy asked, snorting with laughter.

"Along with other things," Eddie cackled.

"Okay, let's talk about something else," Nancy said.

"I'm curious to know more about Stevie here," Eddie said.

"Oh, good, another nickname," Steve said. "What do you want to know?"

"Are your parents as charming as you are?" Eddie asked.

"I wouldn't know," Steve said.

"You do know who your parents are, right?" Eddie asked.

"I know of them," Steve said. "I know that when my parents remember that I exist, my mother is flighty, and my father is an asshole."

"You act like you live alone," he said.

"Basically. My dad's away on business all the time and my mother follows him to make sure he doesn't cheat," Steve said.

"Shit, man, that sucks," Eddie said.

"I didn't think. . .I thought maybe you were exaggerating about that," Nancy said softly. "What about Christmas, your birthday, or other holidays?"

"Well, they come home to take the Christmas card photo but they leave right before Christmas, they fill the house up with dad's business partners on Thanksgiving, and my mother has said repeatedly that my birthday was her accomplishment, so I always buy her gifts," Steve said.

"Oh, that's fucked up," Eddie said.

"Come to my house for Christmas," Nancy said. "My parents would love to have you."

"Um, thanks," Steve said. "I would love to."

"I always thought that you had it all. . .that money would make things better," Eddie said.

"I mean, I get why you would think that but, man, I would give it all up to have parents who gave a shit," Steve said.

"Damn. . .I get what that's like. I keep hoping that my dad will give up his life of being a conman to stay here and be my dad," Eddie said. "I would give anything to have him give a shit too. I don't even know where he is now. He could be in prison for all I know and I'm pretty sure that that's why people hate me. All they can see is my dad."

"I'm sorry, Eddie," Nancy said and she laced her fingers through both of theirs.

"Your mom?" Steve asked.

"She died when I was six," Eddie said, his throat tight with emotion. "Cancer's a bitch."

"Sorry, Teddy," Steve whispered.

"Oh, I get a nickname, too?" Eddie laughed, sniffling.

"Oh, yeah," he said.

They fell in silence for a while, letting the music wash over all of them.

"My mom used to call her records her plane tickets. . .she'd listen to them, and they'd take her anywhere. It was my dad who taught me to play the guitar, but it was mother who taught me to love music. I remember when she'd place me on her feet, and we'd dance around to the music," Eddie said. "I'd give anything to have her here, too."

There was another lull in the conversation as the radio played song after song. They were so quiet, she wondered if the boys had fallen asleep again.

"You know, before Nancy, I didn't know what was truly important. All I had was popularity and friends who only cared what I could do for them. I never knew what it was like to care for someone like Nancy cared about Barb and about other people," Steve said. "It was like I was asleep and suddenly, I was awake. I know I probably could have gotten there on my own, but you pushed me to realize that I deserve more. . .that you deserve more too. I'm so grateful that I got to know you, Nancy Wheeler."

Nancy smiled. Laying here with them, she didn't feel as alone as she did before. Of course, Higgins had to burst in at that moment and ruin it. He practically turned red at the sight of them laying on the floor.

"Do you want another detention?!" he yelled.

"Let me just add one more thing to the essay, Principal Higgins," Nancy said. "I wanted to get it just right."

"Alright, but I'm going to watch you," Principal Higgins said.

"Probably what you should have been doing, huh?" Eddie asked and Higgins glared at him.

Nancy quickly wrote on the blank, tear-stained paper. She smirked and handed it off to Higgins. The three of them watched as his face changed different colors.

Don't forget to live. Also, don't forget to use protection when you can't watch your students because you're too busy fucking your secretary on school property. Sure, they might not believe me but are you willing to risk me telling the school board about your inappropriate actions? How secure do you feel in your job? Secure enough to keep giving us detentions? I'm sure they'd love to know how you have it out for one of the students, how you constantly ignore the bullying that goes on in this school. . .in fact, you encourage it. I'm sure you'd prefer to keep things quiet. The three of us would prefer just to keep on living our lives. . .peacefully.

Sincerely,

The Slut, the Freak, and the Hair.

"You think this essay might win awards?" Nancy asked, innocently.

"GET. OUT."

Nancy, Steve, and Eddie raced out of the school whooping with excitement. They burst out of the doors, breathing in the fresh air. Eddie picked Nancy up and spun her around before setting her down and doing the same with Steve.

"So, are we going to do this again?" Steve asked hopefully.

"What? Detention?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah no, hanging out," Steve said.

"Well. . .I think we should leave that up to fate, shall we? Isn't that more exciting?" Eddie asked, shoving his hands into his pocket. "If we were meant to be in each other's lives the universe will show us the road. More adventurous that way. Oh, I have something for you, Harrie."

He pulled another rainbow pin out of his pocket and pinned it to Steve's sweater.

"You had an extra?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I have quite a few," he said.

"Are you ever going to tell us what they mean?" Nancy asked.

"No, you'll figure it out," Eddie said. "Close your eyes. Do it."

Nancy and Steve closed their eyes. They waited and waited for Eddie to say something else but when they didn't hear him, they opened their eyes again. Eddie was gone and Nancy couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"What do you think it means?" Steve asked.

"I don't know. . .that we're gay?" Nancy asked.

"Woah! Hey, I like women!" Steve exclaimed. "I mean, not there's anything wrong with that."

"And I like men!" Nancy exclaimed. "I meant gay as in happy."

"Oh, you mean like finding gold at the end of the rainbow?" Steve asked.

"Exactly," Nancy said. "We're very gay."

Yes, at least for this moment. Nancy took his hand and interlaced their fingers together. She didn't want to forget to live, and she couldn't deny that that she had feelings for Steve. She gazed at him. Yes, he was worth fighting for. They could work things out. . .couldn't they?

BONUS SCENE:

Fast forward to 1986. . .

"Steve Harrington, why do you have this pin?!" Robin yelled as she dug through his drawer.

"Because I'm gay, Robin!" Steve yelled.

"What?!"

"Oh, come on, you knew this!"

"The fuck I did! You like women!"

"Yeah, I'm very gay about liking women!"

"That doesn't make sense! I think something's getting lost in translation here!"

"What's confusing about me being happy?"

"OH! You absolute dingus! This pin is for gay people like me!"

"What?! Oh. . .fuck! I am a dingus. That means Nancy's a dingus as well. . .oh. . . I finally, figured out what the hell Eddie was talking about. . .yeah, okay, turns out I'm not so straight!"

"What the hell kind of conversation did you and Munson have? WHEN did you have it?"

"Uh, it was when Nancy and I served detention with Eddie in 1983."

"Tell me the whole fucking story."

"Once upon a time, there was a very hot metalhead that I didn't realize I thought was hot until this very moment. Much like Nancy, he taught me how to live. . ."

Dancin′ in the moonlight

Everybody′s feelin' warm and right

It′s such a fine and natural sight

Everybody's dancin′ in the moonlight

[deadgirlsnoring]

FORGIVE ME | DR. JONATHAN CRANE

Summary; He’s so sorry for what he did, and he’s gonna prove to you just how much he is.

Contents; Face sitting (fem recieving), whiny/bratty Jonathan, degradation, cumming without touch, overstimulation, begging, black fem reader.

Her silky smooth skin rubbed up against his, he couldn't help but whine and try to get out of the restraints restricting him.

"I-I told you... fuck. I told you I'm sorry, how many times do I have to say this!" Jon was getting frustrated, how could Y/n do this to him. It wasn't enough, she wanted him to feel her rage.

Clicking her tongue, she rolled her eyes. "Why would you kiss her then? Bring her up to our hotel room like you guys were gonna get it on." The dr. was tied up to the bed, his hands tightly roped together along with his legs, ankles so tight he knew he'd have bruises the next day.

"Oh, please. I p- promise, okay? Promise It won't happen again, just let me cum." She shook her head slowly, her eyes seeping deep into his soul.

Y/n sat sideways towards Jonathan, her short French white manicure dancing creepily on his thighs, never touching where he truly wanted her to. Always going so close but so far.

"I love you, hm? You know I do momma. Made a mistake is all, I'm good. Aren't I?" She cooed, her warm hands getting tangled in his fluffy hair. He almost thought she was really gonna go easy on him, almost.

Jon gritted his teeth and whined carelessly when she tugged on it harshly, pulling his face as much as she could toward her. "You think I don't see through you?" She mumbled, fake pouting. He could feel and smell her icy breath on his neck.

This was the most Y/n had touched him in hours, he was glad but oh how he wasn't, "You're a pathetic slut, you crave attention so bad that when I don't give it to you, you look for random sluts?"

When she let go harshly he whimpered quietly, missing her harsh but loveable touch.

"You want somebody else to love you? Do you not think I give your ungrateful ass what you want?" A pout fell upon his face, trying to get out of his restraints.

"N- No! I only want you. I'm so sorry, forgive me." Chuckling lowly, she stood up. Her red bottoms clicked on the floor at each and every step she took.

Jonathan was completely undressed, with no type of clothing on his body. On the other hand, Y/n was dressed somewhat head to toe, with a small black mini skirt, black thigh garters, and her signature black lacy bra.

"I can untie you right now Jonny, you wanna go have fun with any slut you see? Ugh you're such a slut, aren't you?” He frantically nodded his head, he just wanted to please her.

"I don't want you to! I'm your slut, I'm yours. Please please please say it." She didn't want to make him happy. Wanted to break him down into a sobbing little mess.

"Now you're gonna tell me what to do? Thought you knew better than that." The man could feel the hot tears brimming, she was always so mean.

A choked moan fell from his lips when Y/n held the base of his needy cock, precum already spilling from his tip. "Why do you have to be so pathetic baby? It's embarrassing, really." He was panting loudly as her hands started an up and down motion, it hurt so good.

"M'thank you, fuck t- thank you." She pouted her lips, he really was so cute sometimes, "Language, now shut the fuck up. Don't wanna hear a peep from you. You can cum when you feel like it, okay Jonny?"

He nodded appreciatingly, she only had the tiniest bit of niceness in her body, and he loved it so much.

A small smile crept onto her face, holding one hand at the base while she moved the other one in a half circle, so fast his vision was blurring.

"S- Slow... Slow? P- Please?" Jonny was breathing so heavily you couldn't even hear anything else. Y/n wasn't smiling, "I tell you to shut up and you don't listen? Why are you such a brat? So fucking annoying."

Wanting to be quiet for her, he tried his best. Only letting out a small whimper when she grazed over his tip.

She said he could cum whenever, so when he felt that pit in his stomach when her mouth attached to his needy head, oh he couldn't help it.

Y/n lightly grazed his dick with her teeth, he only liked it when he was getting punished, to induce the pain. Only doing two strokes of that, the girl sucked on his tip, her tongue swirling around it. That's what made tears fall down his face, when they reached his mouth he just licked them off.

His body tensed up and he choked back a moan, but Y/n didn't care. Humming and continuing her work she smirked when his warm liquid coated the walls of her throat.

It kept going, and she kept sucking. Milking him for all he had. When he finished completely, she slowly moved up off him, waiting for him to come back into reality. While he was doing so she scooched up, placing little tiny kisses along his jaw, circling down to his chest and back up.

"Thank you t- thank you, I'm sorry for what I did." Looking at her smiling softly with a blank stare he should've known at that moment, she wasn't finished.

"You wanna eat miss out? Hm?" Her voice was soft and innocent, yet her words were far from it. Lightly giggling when he nodded his head repeatedly.

She had no panties on under and her man always had a thing for short skirts, so she kept it on.

“Don’t do that, let me help you. Please.” Y/n was teasing him. He couldn’t pull her thighs down when she hovered over his face, licking his lips seeing how her wetness dripped down on her thigh.

“P- Please? I’m sorry, do you want me to beg? I- I can beg miss, if you want.” Y/n held onto his tied up hands while slowly lowering herself down into his mouth.

Letting out a sigh when his mouth came in contact with her heat, “You’re so good baby, fuck. I’m thinking bout forgiving you.”

Moaning into her cunt, he lapped up all of her juices, savouring the taste. She barely let him eat her out, and if this made her forgive him. Jonny would do anything.

The man was great with his mouth, playing with her clit with his tongue. “Mhmm, make me cum Jonny.”

Her hands tangled into his hair, her sharp nails scratching against his scalp making him groan loudly. He was so close, she didn’t even know.

Jonny let Y/n rub herself onto his face, using him for her own pleasure.

Her legs trembled and she lost balance, sitting directly onto his face. Jonathan did his best, sucking up every single drop she let go, his whimpers being muffled underneath her.

“Wow little Jonny, y- you’re actually useful for something.” She stood up, and got off the bed, not bothering to look at the man tied up.

When she did though, a laugh erupted from her. She kept going, the sound of her giggling made him feel small; humiliated.

“How embarrassing Jonathan.” He didn’t wanna look her in the face.

“I’m sorry.” The man sounded so embarrassed, oh how she loved that. “You wanna do it again? I think you can baby.”

He shook his head, he hated when she overstimulated him. “No, no. I said I’m sorry, c’mon? It hurts.”

While crawling up onto the bed towards him she smirked, her pearly whites making his heart jump.

“But I like when you hurt. Don’t you wanna make miss happy?” He didn’t wanna nod, and he didn’t wanna shake his head no.

Her nails scratched into his skin, red lines making their mark.

When her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, he couldn’t help but let out a grunt, his eyes rolling back.

“Lets do it again, yeah?”

xoxo, liah

[talanashta]

Show Night - Chapter One

For this prompt ("Getting ready for a show") for the Four or More Fic-a-thon @fourormore

Rating: M (because of Ch 2) | CWs: Swearing | Word Count: 1,834 | Pairings: Spicy Six Plus Chrissy Polycule | Steve's POV

Continuation of the "my lonely days are gone" series. Read Part 1

Chapter 1 of 2

“What time does Eddie’s band go on again?” Steve asked the girls.

“Eight o’clock,” Robin told him, for the third time that day.

Steve nodded, “Right, right. So why are we getting ready at two?”

Chrissy paused where she was picking out clothes to look at him. “Because everyone else is going to come over later to get ready.”

He took a second and thought that over. “I still don’t get it.”

“This happens every time, dingus,” Robin chimed in from the ensuite, where she’d started applying her eye-liner. “You’ll remember once they get here.”

“Hm…” Steve hummed. “Whatever. I’m not going to get ready until closer to when we have to leave. I don’t want to spend all day in make-up. It always makes me itchy.” He got up off the bed and headed down to the kitchen for a snack.

“No one’s making you wear any, Steve!” he heard Chrissy call after him.

Around six, he was pulling a couple giant casseroles out of the oven and setting the table for everyone. He was just waiting for Nancy and Jonathan to arrive any minute toting all the little dorks. Since he was expecting so many for dinner, he counted the chairs and place-settings one more time for good measure to make sure he had enough spots out. Fourteen was a tight squeeze even around the giant dining table, but they made it work.

Oh, but Eddie was eating with the band before their show, so he needed one less space. He grabbed the plate and silverware there, heading to the kitchen but promptly turning around. Oh yeah, Eden was in town, so they still needed fourteen spots. Good thing he’d made so much food.

Steve heard the front door open just as he set the last side dish on the table. Perfect timing! Instantly the house was filled with the yelling of the kids about who-knows-what. They were always arguing (or debating, as they called it) over something.

“Quiet down!” Robin yelled from the upstairs landing.

“You’re not our mom!” Mike yelled back, snarkily.

“Well, your mom says inside voices!” Steve snapped. He didn’t want to risk getting a headache before they even get to the show. He’d be miserable.

Mike waited until Steve was looking at him then made a face and stuck his tongue out.

“Michael!” Nancy scolded.

“He’s not our mom either!”

All the other kids gasped so dramatically you’d think they were in a soap opera. “How dare you say that to our mom, Mike? Apologize!” Dustin cried out.

Steve had to turn and fuss with the table so the kids couldn’t see him trying not to crack up. Meanwhile, the boys devolved into a slap fight over the issue. Whatever. It was quieter than the yelling, and like Mike said, he wasn’t their real mom.

Eventually, with Nancy giving threatening looks and Robin pulling kids by their ears, everyone got settled in at the table for dinner.

Argyle moaned at the first bite of food. “This is so good, man. I don’t know you do it.”

“Shmackin’,” Jon agreed, and the two laughed at their inside joke.

Eden turned to Steve from where she was sitting next to Argyle. “It is really delicious. Thank you for dinner.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. “It’s nothing.”

She insisted, though, “No, I mean, I know how much work it is to cook for this many people. Good job.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks. I love doing it.” He really did. Having the house full of his family like this, enjoying something he did for them? It was the best.

Eden snorted. “At least one of us does. I’ll leave it to you then,” and she turned back to rejoin Argyle and Jonathan’s conversation.

After dinner, Steve tried to clear the table, but Nancy pushed him in the direction of the stairs. “Go get ready. I’ll have the kids help me. You cooked; it shouldn’t be your responsibility to clean up.”

He knew there was no arguing with Nancy when she got an idea in her head, so he just nodded and headed that way. However, based on what the kids had arrived in, he knew about half of them were going to want to borrow clothes and whatnot for tonight, so he went through Eddie and Robin’s section of the closet and picked out stuff that would fit the kids.

By the time he was picking the last shirt (one for Will), Dustin barged into the room.

“I need something to wear, Steve!” he whined.

“Already ahead of you,” Steve reassured him and passed him a stack of clothes.

Dustin cheered, “Awesome. Thanks!” and then locked himself in Steve’s bathroom.

“Hey, I need to get ready still too!” Steve yelled at him, banging on the door.

He heard Dustin’s voice all muffled through the door. “There’s like six bathrooms in this house! Use one of the other ones!”

Steve groaned and mumbled to himself, “But all my stuff is in there. Ugh.” He hung his head and took a deep breath. “Okay, plan B.”

He gathered all the clothes for the other kids and a new set for himself. There would probably be eye-liner in the downstairs guest bathroom, or he could ask Nancy for some. He nodded to himself at his plan.

Downstairs, he saw the kids (minus Dustin) gathered together, chatting. El was standing behind Max braiding her hair for her, so he headed that way first.

“Hey, Ellie. Max. I’ve got band shirts and stuff for you guys if you want to dress up tonight,” he offered.

Max squinted at him (well, a little to the left of him, but it was still intimidating). “What band?” she asked, frowning.

“Uh…” he looked at the shirt in his hands. “Slayer?” he said tentatively.

She gave him a firm nod and stuck her hand out. “Acceptable.”

He handed it to her and gave El her shirt.

El unfolded the shirt and looked at the logo. “Bitchin’,” she said with a small smile on her face. “Thank you, Steve. We will go get ready.”

El followed Max as she wheeled to her bedroom. As soon as the door closed, he heard giggling from the two.

“What about us?” Mike complained.

Steve looked Mike up and down. He was already wearing an outfit that Steve was pretty certain Eddie owned too. “Fuck off, Mike.”

That earned him the bird from Mike and a snort of laughter from Lucas and Will.

“May I borrow a shirt, please, Steve?” Will asked sweetly.

Of course; Steve wasn’t going to say no to Will. “Yeah, man. Picked you both out one,” he told Will and Lucas. After the boys collected their shirts, the three headed upstairs to get ready too. But now where was Erica? He knew she showed up with everyone so she had to be somewhere.

He wandered the ground floor looking for her, eventually giving in and asking the other girls, who told him she was already getting ready in the downstairs guest bath.

Steve knocked three times on the door and called in, “Hey, Erica. I’ve got some metal clothes for you to borrow if you want.”

The door opened and then slammed shut so quickly he barely saw her, the shirt yanked from his hand in mere moments. “Thanks,” she said through the door. “Now go away. I still have to do my hair.”

Steve just blinked for a minute and stared at the door, hand gripped in a fist like the shirt was still there.

“But I needed…” he mumbled to himself, thinking of the eyeliner he swore was in the top drawer. “Okay, let’s find Nancy instead, I guess.”

He headed down to the basement where they’d renovated and added extra rooms to fit everyone. And of course, the door for Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle’s room had a sock on the door. Steve groaned and grumbled, “C’mon, guys. We have to leave in twenty minutes. And you decided now was the best time to hook-up?”

On the off-chance there might be some, he checked the basement guest bath for eyeliner but didn’t find any, so he headed all the way back upstairs. When he checked his room, Dustin was still locked in his bathroom.

“You even have your own room here, man! With its own bathroom! So why my bathroom?” he complained as he went back into the hallway. Of course, Dustin didn’t hear him or respond, but it helped him feel better.

That was the only upside about his parents spending ridiculous amounts of money having this house custom-built when he was a kid. They showed off their wealth with each bedroom having its own bathroom. Usually, it was a bit overkill, but when everyone was over, it really helped.

Unfortunately, with this many people trying to get ready at once, all the upstairs bathrooms were occupied. Except… the Sex Dungeon bathroom. God, he wished that name hadn’t stuck for the room. It literally just looked like a guest bedroom! He slowly entered the room, looking both ways before going in. He didn’t want any of the kids to see and get curious about this room.

The four of them did their best to hide any toys or anything that were in here and make it look as normal as possible so the kids wouldn’t poke around, but he didn’t want to push his luck and have one of them follow him in here and get bored and start looking where they shouldn’t.

Luckily, he found Robin and Chrissy just chilling on the bed inside, reading magazines and listening to a tape.

“Oh, thank God, you guys,” he said.

Robin dropped her magazine to her lap and raised an eyebrow at him.

“The kids have taken over all the other bathrooms, and I can’t find any eyeliner, and the others decided now was a great time to have sex, so I couldn’t even ask Nancy.”

“Really?” Robin asked, in a judge-y tone. “We have to leave in like ten minutes.”

Steve threw his hands in her direction. “That’s what I said!”

“That’s okay. We figured this would happen,” Chrissy comforted him.

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Every time the kids come over to go somewhere, you get so side-tracked trying to get everyone else ready that you forget to get ready yourself until it’s too late and everyone’s occupying every spot you could use,” Robin told him, looking him in the eyes.

“No,” he said, disbelieving, looking between the two of them.

“Yes,” Chrissy and Robin said together.

Robin nodded. “So I made sure that we kept this bathroom free, and I already grabbed all the stuff you need, like your hairspray and eyeliner and stuff.”

Chrissy got up off the bed and pecked his cheek. “Come on. I’ll help you put your make-up on so you’re ready on time.”

“Is this why you guys got ready so early?” he asked.

“Mhm,” they chorused.

Read Chapter Two

[fandomcrazy6226]

Liveblogging Dracula Daily - May 5

Brought to you on May 7 because tech week is k i l l i n g me

I'm actually skipping my 7th period class cause I was gonna take a nap and I may still do that but I'm gonna get through these two posts first, cause technically I'm already late on the May 5 catchup. Whoopsie. Anyway, there'll be two posts today, more or less back-to-back, so enjoy the double feature!

Ooh, we're finally getting to the castle! More sleeping problems, trust me that's very relatable atm. I'm so exhausted after rehearsal every night and then it's impossible to actually fall asleep when I get home.

OK that 'robber steak' actually sounds really good. Love me some bacon.

"A name meaning 'word-bearer'"... huh? Like they call the door by a name? They call him a name? That structure is a bit confusing.

Oh joy, Satan, hell, witch, and *gasp* vampire! Hmm... something tells me this Count won't be the most transparent about these rumors. (Also as someone who watched the Sam and Colby video where they went to Dracula's Castle I wonder if there's a reason "strigoi" wasn't listed here. I do see "stregoica" though, which does look similar)

I think this is where someone who knew nothing about Dracula would definitely figure out something is wrong. Like, the last chapter with the old woman and the innkeeper suddenly not speaking German were definitely a tip-off but an entire crowd of people doing a gesture to ward off the evil eye? Yeah that's a big ol' flashing red light

Honestly I'd get super emotional too if a huge crowd of people I didn't even know did some kind of big protective gesture for me. Also, I'm sorry, the driver's pants are how big??

Again, the way this scenery is described is just so beautiful. And I definitely appreciate the translations here otherwise I'd spend way too much time on Google Translate

Okay... this driver seems odd. "The dogs are too vicious to walk", sure, thanks for the warning. "You'll probably have enough problems tonight", um. Get off my lawn you creepy thing with huge pants. And now I feel bad for the horses.

Okay they're going real fast now, and the other people are offering Jonathan gifts? Strange... but alright then. Oh and they're also doing the evil-eye-protection thing. Yeah does Jonathan realize he's probably walking into a blanket-fort-sized red flag with this trip yet?

Wait, what? What does he mean "not expected"? Are they really gonna take him all the way back to the inn and make him wait for however long just to bring him back? What the hell?

Ummmmmm red eyes you say? And black horses? And hiding his face? Is this a disguise? And the red lips and sharp teeth, yeah calling it now this guy is actually Dracula.

OK as someone who doesn't drink, why would the brandy help? Like is is just a courage thing? Or maybe for sleep?

Oh, midnight, all the evil things come out at midnight. According to the old lady from before, I think. Good thing he's got that cross, and like a million villagers helping him out.

Hm... methinks this driver has superstrength and can talk to animals. Wouldn't you guess what two more vampire powers are?

Is he... are they following a Will-o-Wisp? Is that was the blue flame is? Cause the popping around magical blue fire floating in the air sounds a lot like a Will-o-Wisp

OK that sounds terrifying, surrounded by wolves. But hey, I'm pretty sure wild wolves don't actually attack humans, since humans aren't prey. Or at least that's what Wild Kratts taught me. OK Google is backing me up here. I think wolves are generally pretty chill with humans, although the horses would definitely have a reason to freak out, considering wolves can take down moose.

Oh, so the driver basically waves his arms and the wolves go away? Not suspicious at all...

Oh jeez, this just keeps on going. Hang on, how much is left of this entry? OK I shouldn't have to split the chapter. I'm just gonna keep going, hopefully I'm done before the bell rings.

Um, no, Jonathan, I don't think this is a common occurrence for most realtors. Aww, Mina mention again! Oh, this poor boy seriously needs to sleep. (Me too, buddy)

That's definitely a perfectly normal way to invite someone in. "Enter freely and of your own will" Hand of a dead man hmmmmmmmm?

Ha! Even he thinks it's the driver.

I assume Mr. Hawkins is his boss? And that's a really sweet thing to say. Mmmmm chimcken. I'm very hungry the lunch at my school is not great on Tuesdays, especially when it's flavorless pasta with flavorless tomato sauce. Like somehow the lack of flavor is it's own flavor.

Hair on palms isn't actually... possible. The only two places your body doesn't grow hair at all are your palms and the soles of your feet. So that's extra strange.

This chapter definitely makes things a lot more tense, and I'm very excited to see how that build in the next one!

PREVIOUS / NEXT

[and-claudia]

I'm all fucking in for sub!Jonathan soooo

Something about him wanting to try more than just blindfold and trying to ask what he wants without crying or feeling guilty?

Idk if this makes sense... anyway i really need some fluff, and smut, sub!jon whatever you want to write qbqhhaha 💕

No One Likes A Beggar (sub! Jonathan x dom! Reader, SMUT)

okay, so admittedly I didn't answer this one exactly.

And this may be like a one-time deal where I except a smut request.

In my rules for requesting I do state that I do not accept smut requests. You can read that post here.

That being said, upon receiving this request I did feel like it was something I could write and I wanted to try my hand at writing a dom! reader.

Genre: SMUT

MINORS DNI (YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

Word count: 889

Warnings: handcuffs, blindfold, dom/sub relationship, slight mean! reader, orgasm denial, pet names, P in V, let me know if I missed any.

Jonathan loved being completely at your mercy. Every time you brought that blindfold for him he got all giddy feeling. There was only one issue, he wanted more but didn’t know how to express that to you. 

It was well established that when it came to sex, you were in charge. You were the one who had suggested the blindfold originally, even. He was skeptical at first but that all went away quickly. He had even begged for it once, which didn’t go over too well. Nor did it this time either. 

“No one likes a beggar, Jonathan.” You had said, condescendingly. 

That shut him up real quick and he swallowed hard. He never wanted to make you disappointed in him. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. 

You just shook your head. 

“You know I hate it when you beg me for things. I thought you trusted me. Don’t you trust me, Jonathan?” The tone in which you spoke to him, that sweet, almost innocent tone, mixed with that smile, it made him melt. 

“Of course, I do. I do, I promise.” He said, his words rushed. 

“Hm… I’m not convinced.” You tilted your head. 

“Let me help you then. I’ll prove it.” He said quickly. 

“You’ll prove it? Hm?” 

He nodded eagerly. 

“How?” 

“Any way I can… an- anyway you want me to.” 

This brought a smile to your lips, a dark one. 

“Sooooooo,” you drug out, “If I told you to take your dick out right now, would you?” You asked, eyeing the erection he was already sporting. 

He nodded again. 

“Words, Jonathan.” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…” 

“Yes ma’am, I would take my dick out for you.” He said. 

You watched him expectantly. 

“Well… go on.” You said nodding for him to get his cock out. 

He fumbled with his jeans some and finally released his hard dick. 

“Good boy.” 

He squirmed a little at the pet name and I knew it was working. 

“Now go lay down. No touching yourself, understand?” 

“Y- yes.” He said before eagerly laying down on the bed. 

“Now, you’re going to let me blindfold you, okay?” 

He didn’t say anything this time, just sat up more for me to tie it around his head. 

“Good.” 

He layed back down. I walked around the room before finding what it was I was looking for. A belt. I made my way back over to Jonathan. 

“Give me your hands, Jonathan.” I said sweetly. 

Slowly he lifted his hands up for me. I grabbed his wrist and guided it up to the headboard so he was holding them above his head. The belt was threaded through the bars on the headboard and then looped around his wrists. I noticed that he began squirming. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” I cooed. 

He nodded. 

“Words. I’m not going to tell you that again.” I scolded.

“Yes… yes it feels good- fuck.” He was already leaking precum from his hard dick. 

Without warning, I pulled on the end of the belt, tightening it around his wrists. 

“Do not use that language with me.” I warned, leaning down close to his ear. 

“Now,” I said, standing back up, “I’m going to ride you and you’re not going to cum until I say you can. This is what happens when you decide you know better and beg me to handcuff you. This is what you wanted, Jonathan.” 

I straddled his waist and slowly sunk down onto his cock. We both let out our own moans at the feeling. I used one hand against his torso to steady me, while the other went to rub my clit. 

“What a shame. You’re so good and working my clit, but you were bad. Now I have to do it myself.”

He whined and I saw his hands fighting their restraints. He was begging, please, over and over. Hearing him reduced to a mumbling mess was all it took for me to come. 

“Fuck.” I moaned. 

I felt him squirm under me.

“Can I please?” He begged, his back slightly arching and he tried to thrust into me, desperate for some friction once again. 

Before I got the chance to answer though, he was speaking again. 

“Please! You were right. You know better than me. You knew I wasn’t ready for the handcuffs. I shouldn’t have begged. I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry. May I please cum? Please!” 

That made me smile. I leaned forward more to caress his cheek gently. 

“Such a good boy, Jonathan. You may cum this time.” I said gently. 

I sat back up and began the same pace I had set earlier. 

“Close…” Jonathan warned. 

“Good boy, go ahead. Cum for me.” 

And he did, the feeling of his release inside of me sent me over the edge once again. After I caught my breath for a moment. I slowly lifted myself up off of his softening cock. I sat down beside him and gently undid the belt around his wrists and the blindfold over his eyes. 

“You did so well, Jonathan.” I said, leaning over to kiss him. 

He melted into the kiss some before I pulled away. 

“Next time, don’t beg me for things, and maybe I’ll let you touch me.” I said, teasing him slightly, while also being serious. 

“Yes ma’am.” He smiled at me before leaning back in.

Jonathan Taglist:

@leetaeilsnecktattoo

@camelliaflow3r

@lovegayships

@notfeelingverydora

[snacksizedgates]

Mike's Gay Triangle Shirt and How It Indicates Byler

*posting another theory cus i feel like tumblr bylers would eat this one up. its a visual theory about the triangle on Mike's shirt always pointing towards Will in vol2.*

so you see Mike's shirt? You see that triangle shape? You see how it's pointing towards Will? Yeah.

Now you can call me delusional but I went through 95% of the scenes in full where he is wearing this shirt and well sweetie... 8/10x it's pointing at Will and if it's not, it rarely points towards El. Like seriously almost never.

even when he's consoling El, it's pointing towards Mike, who's standing suspiciously close. Now people would say I'm putting to much thought into it and that's a real possibility but if not intentional why does it never point to El?

Even in this extremely chaotic scene that they did in one take, Will manages to stay on the (your) right side of Mike, where the triangle points to him. At some points he's trailing behind him but from the moment the shots are heard until they get into the van not once does Will go on the other side of Mike so that the triangle would no longer be facing him.

Now I'm not say every single scene is like this, because they're not, but A LOT of them are, and it never truly happens with El, especially not how blatant it is with Will.

These ones have more of an explanation behind them. In the first screenshot at first glance you'd think it was pointing towards El. But they're in a triangle formation (another symbol that comes up for them a lot throughout the season that I won't be getting into here) Essentially though, Mike and Will are the bottom points while El is the top point, by herself. She's in the fg, they're behind her, allowing the triangle to, again, point towards Will. Even in a scene with Mileven.

Which brings me to the next shot. I wouldn't have included this one if not for the other symbolization. In the back of him you can see a vibrant pink and yellow pizza complimented by his vibrant teal/blue sweater. Hm. What does that sound like? The pan flag! The direction that the triangle on his shirt is pointing in is where Will is preparing the bath with Jonathan. During that same scene, Will is in the other room. And why does that matter, you ask?

Boom. Right beside him, WHILE HIM AND JONATHAN ARE BASICALLY HAVING A COMING OUT SCENE, and while Mike is sitting in the other room with the same color scheme around him. You can say I'm over-reading but set design isn't just thrown together. Clothes aren't just thrown together. These people have their jobs for a reason. If it wasn't intentional, someone along the lines would have likely noticed and they would have fixed it. Easily by having Mileven switch seats. This proves to me it was intentional. If it were just Will with the pan colors it would prove nothing about Byler, and there's no way those pan colors aren't representative of something with the context of Will/Jonathans scene. So if they mean something here why wouldn't they mean something in the scene that's happening 10 ft from this one simultaneously? Crickets.

Sorry that one gets me riled up.

Plus, people write off the fruity pineapple pizza theory and so did I at first but when I saw the other symbols in it... It was kinda adding up let's be honest.

Here are more. Typically they're prolonged shots where the triangle will be pointing towards will the entire time.

Not to mention it's a triangle, not any other shape that could point towards Will, a triangle (love triangle). From the triangle formation shots I describe earlier, the two bottom points are Byler and the top point is El. So why is El pointing towards Will? Because that's the position Mike want Will to be in. He wants Will and El to switch roles in his life, because he essentially already feels like they play those roles unofficially (El bestfriend, Will boyfriend). That last sentence is obviously speculation, but the symbols are there whether or not it was intentional.

Now let's see where we find it pointing towards El.

These are seriously the only shots I could find where it's pointing towards El. There's one shot where they are at SBP and it's pointing in her direction but Argyles in between them and Will is behind Mike.

In the top shot she immediately starts walking forward, and in the top right we can see that Will was standing directly next to El. So the triangle is pointing to her for a few seconds until she starts walking forward and is replaced by Will. Lol. I can't with the parallels.

Let's also not forget that Papa's nearly dead body is in between them, Papa and Mike have already have a comparison this season and she's about to say her final goodbye to Papa. It really does not get more symbolic than that.

The bottom shot is essentially the same exact thing. They're hugging at first so the triangle isn't pointing towards her. Then Mike begins to turn as El moves away and we see the triangle pointing towards nothing because she's walking forward over to Will. So it never even points to her in this scene really.

If anyone wants to scrub through the scenes meticulously to check again I would suggest it. I could have missed a shot or two but I've watched these scenes like 10x each so I really did try to find it directly pointing at El.

And my last piece of evidence.

There are a few instances where it doesn't point towards Will. In the beginning of the finale, where they're standing outside under the stars. But it's still not pointing towards Eleven. When they go to order pizza, its pointing the other way. There's a couple others too I think. But here's the one that stood out.

Out of all scenes, why not have it pointing towards Will in the van scene? When I asked myself this I thought my theory was bones (it may still be but I choose to believe otherwise) but then I thought a little more. It makes sense that in this scene Mike would have it pointing away from Will. Because Will's about to confess his love (in a sense) to Mike and Mike is absolutely not ready to admit or act on those feelings. Another thing I noticed was in the under the stars scene, where the triangle is not pointing towards Will, Mike is standing next to an ice machine, indicating he's being standoffish/cold towards Will again. We don't see any of this and I don't think it would be like the beginning of the season but I think it indicates that El's back and there's a tension in their relationship again. The first scene after El's back and it's not pointing towards Will? And as I was writing this it made me think to when he even put the shirt on in the first place. After El already left/got arrested and right before Will and Mike go on a "journey" together. How is this NOT proof?

Here's one last shot.

Not only is the triangle pointing towards Will, they're in triangle formation once again, and once again El is the focal point, by herself. They're together. ITS TOO OBVIOUS I'M SORRY HOW CAN YOU DENY IT?

One last thing to mention is this shirt is obviously symbolizing the yellow/blue color thing.

So yeah that's my theory on the gay triangle shirt 😭 I could definitely be reading into things with this one but I find it so odd that it just so coincidentally never pointed to El. Like wouldn't it if there were no intentions behind it? Directly? At some point? But nope. Lol.

[panickinganakin]

the weight of you

a steddie oneshot in which they connect when steve has to give eddie a ride home. 

a/n: this fic mentions blood, death etc. it is intended for mature readers only. this fic does not have a hea. 

4.4k words

Steve remembered the first time he met Eddie Muson. Dustin had joined the Hellfire Club and he was all Steve heard about for weeks. He was a little jealous but he would never admit that to anyone out loud. The first time he actually met him though was when he and Dustin had come into Family Video to rent a movie one night.

“Hellfire is having movie night, we need something good.” Dustin said after slamming his fists down on the counter.

“Trying to break my property won’t get you anything, Henderson.”

“And asking this dingus won’t get you a good movie, follow me.” Robin walked to the other side of the counter and Dustin followed her.

Steve looked at Eddie who was lingering at the counter. He had his hands stuffed into his denim vest and Steve crossed his arms, “So, you’re Eddie?”

“Wounded, Steve Harrington. Do you not remember us having chemistry together?”

Steve watched as Eddie shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Steve shook his head, “I don’t remember anything from chemistry.”

“That’s okay, I don’t really either.” He gave Steve a half smile then looked around the store before taking a step toward the black VHS rack closest to the register. “Employee recommendations,” he read.

For whatever reason Steve started to feel a little nervous. He didn’t want Eddie to see what was under Steve’s section. What if he thought the picks were lame? Why did Steve even care? “Uh, they just kinda stick whatever over there,” Steve said cooley, rocking back on his heels.

Eddie turned back to look at him with a grin, “So. The Goonies isn’t your number one pick?”

Steve felt his face turning warm and he shrugged, “Oh, I don’t know. It’s pretty good but-“

“But it was just stuck there?” Eddie asked, stepping to the section where Robin’s choices were.

Steve scrunched his nose then rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was jealous of this guy; he was sort of a douche. “It’s just a movie man.”

“And I’m only kidding, man. Hm, Dustin said you were sensitive. I just wanted to see for myself.”

Steve moved his head back, a little offended and scoffed quietly, mumbling under his breath. “Got one!” Dustin announced, joining them back at the counter.

After that first night he had thought about the encounter often. Until eventually he brought it up to Robin.

“I don’t even know why I care what he thinks. He’s just a friend of Dustin’s. He’s not even my friend.” Steve told Robin.

“I think it’s because he’s Dustin’s friend that you care. I think that you are worried that Henderson is going to replace you on his totem pole. You are worried that Munson is gonna kick you down a few notches.”

Steve scoffed at his friend and turned on his blinker to turn left. Even though he graduated the previous year he still woke up every morning to take Robin to school. Robin was his best friend and it was nice having someone to talk to. “I don’t care if Henderson likes Munson better than me. He’s a kid anyways…  Besides, that would never happen. Dustin and I have been through so much together; there’s no way he’d pick him.”

“Why would he need to pick?” Robin asked. She unclicked her seatbelt and put her hand on the door. “Listen. Henderson would never replace you. He loves you, dingus. You worry too much. Now, I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Fine.” Steve waved Robin out the door and pulled away from the school. The truth was Steve was scared of being replaced by Eddie. Steve was always scared of being replaced. It was like his own personal hell he lived with. He was no longer friends with two of the people he used to be closest to. Not that Tommy and Carol mattered; they were assholes. But, still. Then, he had been replaced by Nancy. Steve was happy for her and Jonathan of course but it was still a loss that stayed with him. He had only ever felt replaceable or overlooked. Insignificant. So, yes. He was terrified of not being important to Dustin anymore.

Thursday’s Robin had band practice after school so he worked at the video store alone. Luckily it worked out because Thursday’s were the slowest nights of the week. Steve was organizing the snack display behind the glass when he heard the bell to the store chime. He looked up and noticed Eddie walking in. He stood up the display and nodded toward him. “Munson.”

“Harrington, how goes it?” He asked, walking toward the counter.

Steve noticed that he wasn’t in his attire he had been last time. The denim vest and leather jacket were both gone. He was wearing light colored jeans with holes in the knees and grease marks all over them. His shirt was a cream colored camel shirt that had seen better days. There were tiny holes all in it and it was cropped at the hem, exposing the skin above Eddie’s waistline.

Steve looked down at the register, worried about staring at Eddie. His heart rate seemed to quicken. What the fuck? What the fuck? Eddie Munson was hot. He had just thought that in his head. He had never thought a guy was attractive before, had he? “You good?” Eddie asked.

Steve scolded himself; Eddie had asked him a question but he had been too flustered to even speak. “Uh, yeah I’m good. Sorry. It’s fine.. Things.. Are slow. As they typically are here on  Thursdays. What are you.. Uh, doing?” Steve looked up at Eddie, who had the same grease on his pants running down his forearms.

“Well. I was on my way here earlier when my van broke down. I tried to fix the piece of shit but eh, I’m gonna need a part. I know it’s a lot to ask but do you think you could give me a ride home maybe?”

That was the first time Steve had seen him since he had come into the store with Dustin. It was also the first time they really hung out.

“So, this is your place?” Steve asked, shutting his car door behind him, staring at the trailer.

Eddie was walking up the steps and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “Yeah. It’s not spectacular or anything. Probably really pales in comparison to what you go home to everyday. But, nonetheless, it is home.”

Steve followed him through the front door and looked around. It was nothing like he was used to, Eddie was right about that. It felt better. It felt lived in and like it was actually a home. There were personalized touches everywhere. There were hates, guitar tab books, guitar picks… Just a lot of things Steve’s mom would have thrown away if he had left them laying out. “Thanks for the ride,” Eddie told Steve for the thirteenth time, holding a beer out to him.

Steve took the can and popped it open, “Feel free to have a seat. I’m gonna go shower all this grease and shit off.”

Steve took a long sip of the beer and cringed. He never understood why he or anyone else drank this shit. It quite literally tasted like piss. Steve could hear the water down the hall turning on so he took the opportunity to look around.

There were a few photos scattered around of Eddie when he was young and who. Steve assumed, was his uncle. They were sitting under a large red umbrella, squinting from the sunlight. There was a large plate of hotdogs on the table in front of them and two cans of coca-cola. Eddie was smiling big and his uncle had an arm thrown around him.

His curiosity continued to get the better of him and he made his way down the hall, pushing open the last door that was already cracked. He could see a guitar mounted on the wall and a pile of books on a dresser. The bed sheets were twisted and messy and there were multiple tshirts on the floor. A denim vest and leather jacket were thrown across the bed and Steve knew it was Eddie’s room for sure now.

He stepped the rest of the way inside and walked over to the small desk. There was a beat up copy of a book titled ‘The Fellowship of the Ring’ and a notebook open next to it. Steve trailed a finger from the book to a small glass bowl full of guitar picks. He shuffled them around. Most of them were black, red or navy but there was one yellow one that was sort of transparent. It was different from the rest and Steve liked how it looked.

“Finding anything good?” Eddie’s voice startled Steve.

He took a step away from the desk and turned to the door quickly. He had to swallow. Eddie was standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was dripping water at the ends down his chest. Steve stared at him and tried to come up with something to say but he was completely speechless. “Uh-h. Yellow.”

“Yellow?” Eddie raised an eyebrow heading toward his closet.

Steve watched the muscles in his back flex as he lifted his arms to pull a tshirt over himself. He pulled a pair of boxers from a drawer and Steve swallowed hard, turning to face the wall. “The yellow guitar pick, I like it.” He tried to keep himself completely composed.

“Is that your favorite color or something?”

Steve didn’t even know what to say. He just nodded at the wall, “Yup.”

“Do you play?” Eddie asked.

Steve could see Eddie grabbing the guitar off the wall in his peripherals so he had guessed he had dressed now. He turned to see Eddie in the shirt and the boxers he had slid on. Steve felt his cheeks heat. “Uh. No, I'm musically inept.” Steve laughed lightly.

Eddie sat on the side of his bed, “Hand me a pick,” he told Steve.

Steve grabbed the yellow one and passed it to Eddie. Eddie held it between his fingers and started to pick softly at the strings. He did this for a few minutes, stringing together melodies that Steve couldn’t place. Steve remembered Dustin saying once that Eddie was in a band so it was probably their music. “You gonna sit, Harrington? Or you gonna stand the whole time?”

Steve took the few short steps to Eddie’s bed and sat at the other end, staring at him. He had never felt so fucking out of his element. He felt so fucking strange. He wasn’t gay. Why was he feeling fucking wrecked right now? He wasn’t gay. Right? Was he? Steve didn’t even know if he was gay. He didn’t know if Eddie was gay. Steve sucked in a quiet breath; Eddie probably thought he was fucking crazy right now.

“Here, hold her like this,” Eddie told Steve, passing over his guitar. Steve took the guitar and felt panic swell inside of him. What if he looked dumb? What if he wasn’t able to play it? He didn’t want to look dumb in front of Eddie.

Then again, why did it matter if he looked dumb in front of him? Steve’s head was swimming with thousands of thoughts and he was trying to push them all away as Eddie handed the yellow pick to him. Steve took it and realized his hands were shaking. He need to calm the fuck down.

“So far so good. Now, you’re gonna wanna put your hand like this,” Eddie held out his hand in front of himself so Steve could see. Steve’s brain was moving so quick he just stared at Eddie’s hand dumbfounded. He hadn’t noticed all the veins in his arm before. His mouth started to feel dry. He moved his hand slightly and Eddie chucked, “No. Like this.”

Eddie pulled his legs up on the bed and positioned himself so he was on his knees. He moved behind Steve and put his left hand on top of Steve’s moving his fingers for him. Steve went completely still as he felt Eddie’s chest against his back. He could feel Eddie breathing on his neck; heat spread through Steve. He was thankful Eddie was behind him because he was sure his cheeks were red. “Yeah, just like that. Now, do this,” Eddie instructed softly, moving Steve’s hands on the guitar again.

The two of them had spent the rest of that night with Steve trying to learn the basics of guitar playing. Steve left Eddie’s more confused than ever. He was terrified of the way he had felt around Eddie and even more scared that he had been making up all the tension and heavy breathing Eddie had been doing.

Eddie coming into Family Video on Thursday’s had been a regular occurrence after that. He would come in before closing and he and Steve would pick out a movie together. Then, Steve would go back to his trailer with him and Eddie would teach him a few more things on the guitar. None of the other times had been like the first time Steve had gone over there. Not until a month into their Thursdays.

“That movie was awful,” Steve groaned, closing his eyes and smacking his hand to his forehead.

Eddie was on the couch beside him laughing, “It wasn’t that bad. You just have to look at it with an artistic eye.”

Steve opened an eye to give a sideways glance at Eddie. He was wearing a black sweater that was tattered around the collar. Looking at him made Steve’s palms sweat. “Eddie Munson. You are so pretentious.”

“Oooh, good one, Harrington. Did Dustin teach you that last time you two practiced vocabulary together?” Eddie cracked a huge grin.

Steve rolled his eyes and picked up the pillow that was in between the two of them on the couch and chucked at him.

Eddie caught it by the corner and threw it back at Steve. Steve went to smack it away but missed, causing him to fall forward. Eddie grabbed his arm and wrapped his other around his chest just before Steve could fall completely off the couch and hit the coffee table. He yanked Steve up quickly and they were face to face.

Steve stared at Eddie’s big brown eyes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His eyes were so big and pretty. It was something that Steve had thought so much since they had started hanging out. Steve didn’t pull from Eddie. Eddie didn’t move either. They just sat there, inches apart.

Eddie finally moved his head forward, crashing his lips against Steve’s. Steve didn’t move for a moment. He was terrified. Then. It sort of hit him; how right it felt. The tension in him ebbed and he slouched against Eddie. He let his hands move behind Eddie, tangling his fingers in his hair.

Eddie made a soft groaning noise into Steve’s mouth and Steve’s heart felt like it was going to explode.

Okay, fine. Maybe he was gay.

Eddie pushed against Steve softly, making him lay back against the couch. Eddie’s lips moved quickly as if he was hungry. Steve matched his pace. He was terrified of it ending so he wanted everything to happen before it could stop. Eddie’s hands cupped Steve’s face and Steve couldn’t stop the small noise that escaped from him.

Eddie pulled away slightly and looked down at Steve, “I fucking it knew it.”

He pressed his lips back against Steve’s. Steve was confused but he couldn’t think about much with Eddie’s mouth and body against his.

After that night… Well.. Steve had been afraid it would end, but, It hadn’t. They were spending every Thursday together plus whatever other days they could without being suspicious to others. It wasn’t that they wanted to hide it.. They just… They wanted it to remain their thing. Plus, it just seemed like it would take a lot of explaining. Like how did they go from being snippy with one another to making out and constantly wanting to be together?

Steve liked Eddie. Really liked Eddie. He was awakening parts of him he hadn’t even known existed. Eddie made him happy. He was kind, caring and patient. He always let Steve nap laying  on his chest. He played songs for Steve, he read Tolkien to Steve.. He was perfect and Steve was in love to say the least.

However, with all good things. There were sometimes bad things. Steve remembered their first argument too.

“You know what’s crazy?” Eddie asked, straightening up the videos in the horror section.

“Hmm?” Steve asked, wiping down the counter.

Eddie always met Steve right before closing and helped straighten everything up so Steve could get out faster. “Chrissy Cunningham asked me about buying weed today.”

Steve scoffed, putting away some of the videos that had been returned that day. “Like goody two shoes Chrissy?”

“Yup. But, a customer is a customer.”  Eddie’s voice was so nonchalant it immediately irritated Steve.

“You aren’t going to sell to her, are you?” Steve knew Eddie’s income was based on the weed; that didn’t bother him. However, the idea of Eddie selling to her was unsettling.

“What o you mean? I’m supposed to meet with her tomorrow.”

“Eddie.”

“Steve? Are you jealous or something?”

Steve looked at Eddie and anger washed over him. “Really? Jealous? No. I’m not jealous. I’m concerned. She’s a fucking church priss. What if you do this and it’s like a set up or something? You sell to her and she runs and tells? Then what? You go to jail? You miss graduation again? Her parents press charges? Literally anything could happen.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide before he gave Steve a sideways grin, “Steve. I think you’re being a little dramatic. I’ve sold to athletes and church prisses before, okay? It’s going to be fine.”

“Really? That’s it? I’m telling you I’m uncomfortable with something and you’re just gonna brush it off and tell me I’m being dramatic? For what? Twenty bucks?”

“Jesus H, Harrington. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything-” Eddie stopped mid sentence and Steve sucked in a breath.

This is exactly what he was scared of. What if after all this he had been just another thing to Eddie the way he was to everyone else? Just a fling… Or Eddie trying to figure himself out? Steve felt sick.

Eddie took a step toward Steve, “Steve I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s fine. You already said it. In fact. I think you should just go.”

“Steve. Don’t act like that. I really didn’t mean it. It’s just… I promise; I know how to look out for myself.”

Steve turned away from him and gathered the rest of the VHS tapes that were on the counter. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Really? That’s all I get?”

“What did you want? I tried to communicate my feelings with you and you said I was being dramatic-”

“Steve. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Steve kept walking, placing the videos in their correct places. He could hear the chains on Eddie’s pants hitting against one another as he kept pace behind him. “Steve. Steve. Fucking look at me Steve.”

Steve turned on his heel but before he could get a word out Eddie had his face in his hands, pulling him closer. His lips covered Steve’s and he melted. Eddie pulled away, looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry that I said that. I know what we are. I know how I feel about you. And I hope it’s how you feel about me too.. I just.. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

The day after that though… That’s when things became hard. He had picked Dustin up from the DnD campaign and dropped him off. Things seemed good. Dustin was as chatty as normal and when he dropped him out he told Steve goodnight. Steve had gone home and went to bed since he had to open the next morning.

Dustin had come into Family Video the next morning with Max and the two of them were frantic. They had told him and Robin about everything and Steve had felt so sick the whole time they called around. His mouth was dry and his hands were shaking. He just wanted Eddie to be okay.

When  they had finally found them and they had a second alone Steve had punched his arm.

“I fucking told you not to do that drug deal, Eddie!” Steve whisper-yelled at his idiot boyfriend in front of him.

“Steve.. Respectfully, shut up. I know that. I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew you didn’t want me to and I’m sorry I didn’t respect that. It’s just- she was so upset, Steve. She looked like she had really been going through something.” Eddie staggered back against the wall, running his hands over his face. “I didn’t think she would end up dead on my ceiling.”

“I know… I’m sorry. We’ll fix this,” Steve encouraged, his brain already searching for solutions to their problem like it always did.

“How? Everyone thinks I’m a murderer.”

“You aren’t though,” Steve frowned, reaching for Eddie’s hand.

“Explain that one to the town. Gay, satanic cult leader murderers church girl. Headlines. I can see ‘em now.”

Steve fought off a frown and sighed. “We’re going to fix this.. I’m just glad you’re okay. I was so fucking worried we wouldn’t find you.” Steve’s voice cracked and Eddie frowned, running his hand down Steve’s face.

“Harrington.. Did you think I would just leave you?”

“I.. I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

Eddie leaned forward to kiss Steve’s forehead before they pulled away from each other. The shed door opened and Dustin glanced between the two of them. “Are you coming, or?”

The few days after that had been the hardest for them. They were trying so hard to get to the bottom of everything while keeping Max alive and proving Eddie’s innocence. It was a whirlwind. They had spent a lot of time talking at night when everyone else was asleep. Steve wanted to tell Eddie so badly that he loved him. It had been a little over two months since their first time hanging out and he was still worried of scaring Eddie away so he bit down on the phrase; holding it in.

The weight of holding on to a fucking sentence.

Then; that night came. The night where they fought Vecna.

Steve and Eddie nailed a piece of wood into the trailer. Everyone else was around the front, finishing up their nail-in-the-trailer tasks. “I wish I was getting to watch you shred out there.”

“It sucks for you, you’re gonna miss a hell of a performance.” Eddie laughed lightly, stuffing his hands into his vest.

“Listen. Just.. Be mart, okay?” Steve asked him. Eddie nodded and looked around, checking for others. He pressed a quick kiss against Steve’s lips.

He followed Eddie back around front. “Guys listen, if things here start to go south. I mean, at all, you abort. Okay? Draw the attention of the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just-” Steve was starting to feel panicky. He was worried about leaving Dustin and Eddie behind.

“Decoys?” Dustin interjected. Don’t worry. You can be the hero, Steve.”

“Absolutely, I mean, look at us. We are not heroes.” Eddie said in a low tone.

Steve nodded at Eddie; he wanted to tell him that wasn’t true. Eddie was a hero. He was a hero and a good person, he needed to know. But, they were running out of time. He turned back toward Nancy and Robin. “Hey, Steve.” Eddie said.

Steve backed around and could see Eddie swallow nervously. He stayed silent for a few moments, his eyes scanning the rest of the group. “Make him pay,” was all he said. Steve knew what he had wanted to say, though. He was going to say I love you. Steve knew it. And it felt like an ‘I love you’ to him. Steve gave him a small nod of understanding before turning back towards the woods.

Steve knew now how different things should have gone then. Everything changed after that moment.

“Dustin! Dustin!” Steve screamed as he ran through the woods. He had to make it back to the two of them. He couldn’t hear anything. Dustin finally came into view and Steve stopped abruptly. Dustin knelt on the ground, rocking back and forth holding a body.

Eddie’s body.

“Eddie! Eddie!” Steve’s voice ripped from his throat as he pushed forward. He fell to knees in front of Dustin and grabbed Eddie, shaking him. “Eddie! Come on man! Dustin! What happened?”

Dustin was sobbing, his voice was broken up. “He said he wanted to be a hero.. He didn’t want to run.”

Steve stared down at Eddie. There was blood all over him. His boyfriend was covered in his own blood. Steve stuck his fingers to Eddie’s neck, begging god for a pulse. Nothing. A coldness swept over Steve. His chest squeezed. Fuck. “No, no, no. No, Eddie, Eddie, no. Please god no,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to Eddie’s forehead. “Please, Eddie. Please wake up. I need to tell you. You have to say it back.”

Fuck. He didn’t even tell him he loved him. Eddie had always been the one to do something first. If he would have just said it.. Steve would have said it back. “Eddie,” Steve’s voice was barely a whimper. “Eddie… I love you. I love you. Please, please stay. Get up, Eddie. You have to say it back. I need to hear it.”

“Steve?” Dustin’s voice broke through Steve and Steve looked up, blinking away tears. He looked back down at Eddie whose blood was now smeared all over him. “Steve… Eddie said.. He said to tell you… He just said, “Tell Steve. He’ll know what that means. Just tell him I said to tell him.”

Steve fell forward, his head crashing against Eddie’s chest. He clutched his shirt in his hands and a sob felt like it was ripping his chest open. “Eddie. Eddie you fucking coward. Tell me to my face. Tell me…” He cried. “Fuck. I love you, Eddie.”

He felt arms pulling him away from Eddie’s body and he cried. “Please.. Don’t.. Just leave me with him. Just leave me..”

Now Steve sat at Nancy’s desk in her room, writing on a sheet of yellow paper. He remembered every moment of everything. He remembered every kiss, every laugh… The tears. The blood… All of it. And now he would have to remember writing Eddie’s eulogy.

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

PLEASE DO SOMETHING WITH REMUS WHERE THE READER HAS A REMOTE VIBRATOR IN ALL DAY USJJSSUHESUJSJS

Tease

Wooohoo it‘s getting hot in here (imagine him looking at you like that fjkeangf)

Warning: 18+

Remus kissed you deeply as you sat in his lap, your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hands gently stroked your legs, disappearing under your skirt and pushed your underwear to the side. You gasped into his mouth when you felt the vibrator press against your clit, pushing back against his fingers.

“Ah Remus yes-”

He kissed you to swallow your moans and pushed the vibrator into your pussy, earning a series of whines from you when it nudged against your sweet spot. He turned it off and gave your thigh a pat. 

“Right, off we go.”

You gave him a confused look. “What? But I didn’t..” your voice trailed off.

He finished your sentence, raising a brow. “Cum? I’m aware, pup.”

Now you were sulking. “But why?” you whined.

He smiled at you as if you asked the most ridicolous question ever. “Because that’s what I saw fit.” His smile vanished. “Now put on your robes and move it, pup.”

You frowned, not getting the purpose of leaving the toy in but did as you’re told. Remus wouldn’t shy away from missing class if that meant to punish you.

---

You were talking to James about their upcoming match when the topic somehow came to stamina. And James being James had to make a subte werewolf joke.

„I bet Moony’s a beast in the sheets.“ Sirius and Peter burst out laughing and slapping the table. You had to giggle a bit, but instantly composed yourself when Remus gave you a strict look.

„Real funny Prongs..“ he murmured. You saw him slip his hand down his pocket and thought he was going to hex his friends. Oh how wrong you were.

Remus decided to have some fun. You felt the vibrator inside of you come to life at full force and choked on your drink, pressing your legs together. You shoved some eggs into your mouth to keep yourself from moaning. Remus obviously didn‘t like that.

„You okay love?“

That fucker. You forced out a „Fine“ and continued to chew your eggs with more force than necessary. The toy was hitting every pleasurable spot in your cunt and you put your hand on Remus‘, silently pleading him to stop.

He leaned his head against yours, shielding his face with your hair.

„You better watch your mouth baby or I‘ll make you cum right here.“

You nodded quickly, whining when it got to much and Remus saw you tremble. Suddenly the pleasure was gone and you were relieved and disappointed at the same time.

„Warn me at least“ you bit out, glaring at him.

He only smiled a toothy grin. „Where‘s the fun in that?“

---

The second time Remus decided to fuck with you was during your transfiguration class. Professor McGonagall just asked a question and the second you raised your hand the vibrator went off. You quickly slapped your hand over your mouth, the vibrations against your already swollen clit made you weak and you dropped your head. Remus answered the question with ease, throwing you a teasing look.

You kept your fist over your mouth, legs trembling as you suddenly came, shaking in your seat. Remus was watching you intently, his own hard on painful in his pants as you came in the middle of the class.

Fuck, he thought, what I wouldn‘t do to taste you now.

---

You had been paranoid all day, the vibrations and unexpected orgasms keeping you on high altert. You were at the dinner table now, waiting for the vibrations to kick in. Remus had been behaving normally, giving no signs of teasing you again.

„Hey love“, you heard Jonathan call and turned to look at the Ravenclaw.

You gave him a smile and felt Remus tense next to you.

„I wanted to ask if you were free tonight? You know, to meet up?“

„Um, I would love to but oh-“

A moan escaped your lips when you felt Remus turn on the toy. You bit your tongue and flushed, coughing to cover it up.

Jonathan gave you a concerned look and touched your shoulder lightly. You cursed at him, because Remus put the setting even higher now.

„Yes! I mean no! No, sorry ah I um I have a boyfriend!“

The vibrations ceased and your shoulders slumped with relief. You gave your friend an apologizing smile and he nodded, making his way back to his seat.

Remus pressed a kiss on your temple and you leaned against him, angry but exhausted.

„C‘mon, time to reward you.“

You perked up with that and nodded eagerly. Remus gave you a coy smile and took your hand, pulling you up.

„Oi Moony what about your chocolate fudge?!“ Sirius yelled after you.

“I’ll have my dessert later, don’t worry.” He called back and winked at you, your friends letting out whistles and cheers.

---

The door fell shut behind you as you kissed hotly, hands all over your bodies. Remus pushed you against the wall, sucking bruises into your neck as one hand pushed inside of your pussy. You felt him take out the small toy and he stopped kissing you, puttin the toy to his lips.

„God you taste so good“ Remus moaned as he licked the toy clean right infront of your eyes.

„Remus“ you whined, wanting his attention on you. „Please touch me!“

He put the toy in his pocket and knelt on the ground, pushing your skirt up to your stomach. His other hand pulled your panties down and he immediately put his head between your thighs. You cried out, hands pulling his hair and put one leg on his shoulder to give him more access.

Remus was beside himself with need, licking and sucking on your clit, tongue deep inside of your hole. He was groaning at your taste, moving his head from side to side to rub his nose on your clit.

„Wait“ you moaned out „wanna cum with your cock in my pussy Remus please!“

He gave your cunt one last lick before he got back up and only pushed his pants down enough to expose his hard cock. Wrapping his arms around your tighs he lifted you against the wall, the tip of his cock rubbing against your slit.

„Please“ you begged „please waited all day please-“

Remus groaned loudly at your tightness when he pushed inside with a hard thrust, pressing you further against the wall to fuck you as fast as he could. He was so deep inside of you, his tip hitting your spot every time and all you could do was cling onto him.

„Remusremus-“

„Fuck baby you feel so good, so tight“ Remus whined „Gonna cum? Hm? Gonna cum for me?“

You cried out when his pubic bone dragged against your clit and kissed him hard, coming around his cock.

„Yes please give me your cum! Please want your cum!“

Remus bit your lip, piercing the skin with his sharp teeth and came inside of you with a shout. You felt his cum inside of you and whined softly, rocking your hips to milk him dry.

„My little pup“ Remus murmured against your lips between kisses „Enjoyed our little game?“

You gave him a shy smile and pressed a kiss on his cheek. „Yes, Remus.“

[hawkinsupdates]

Stranger things embarrassing misunderstanding scenario Will Byers and Elizabeth Byers *you know the rest about the older twin sister of Will Byers excluding the bowl hair cut since she takes good care of her hair and nicknamed lizzie for short by Wills friends, a lesbian and likes Eleven and a professional martial arts champion* Elizabeth's reaction to realising that she accidentally took her brothers bookbag as she didn't recognise her stuff and Wills reaction when he realised that he took his older twin sisters stuff by accident once Mike asked him since when did he have periods? All of the hygiene products for women (period pads) fell onto the floor once Will accidentally opened the bag too much..Reactions from Wills friends once they saw.

Will-😳

Elizabeth-🤦‍♀️

A/n- Ayo, I love this one-

Summary- In which Lizzie Byers and Will Byers accidentally swap book bags.

Characters- Lizzie Byers, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, Mentions of Jonathan Byers, Dustin Henderson and Max mayfeild.

Warnings- Literal embarassment ;-;, awkwardness.

"Hey, time for school, come on." Jonathan says to his younger siblings as they begin to put their shoes on.

The two kids grab their bags and walk towards their brother's car.

As they walk into the school building, the hallways start to crowd more as it was early in the morning.

The bell rang slightly after the two put their things in their locker.

"Hey, Will and Liz." Dustin says

"Hey dusty," Lizzie says

"So, how do you feel about Clarke's test today?" He says more directed towards Will, he knew Will hated the tests and he always wanted to get to class early for them.

"I'm alright" he says with a shrug.

"Well, i'm dead meat if it's algebra. Gosh I hate algebra" Dustin says

"It's science not math, idiot." Lizzie says with a laugh before walking away.

"Okay, this is a big part of our curiosity voyage so pay attention." Mr Clarke says holding the test in his hands

He starts to pass them around "This is a test to see how much you've learned so far,"

Max shuffles through her book bag and groans.

She turns over to Lizzie who is sitting right from her "Hey Liz, you have a pencil?"

"Oh, yeah you can get it in my bag." she says handing the bag to the redheaded girl.

Max shuffles through Lizzies bag before letting out a giggle.

"What's this?" Max ask reaching deep into the bag.

"Max, every girl has their period its not a big deal." Lizzie says in a mumble.

"What? no not that this" she says holding up a book that say's 'Will Byer's Diary'

Lizzie's eyes widen.

"I didn't think you'd stoop low to stealing his diary."

"I didn't" she says grabbing the bag to look deeper inside.

"Oh, sh*t" Lizzie exclaims.

"what?"

"This is Will's bag."

"Oh"

"and if I have Will's bag that means he has mine."

Max eyes widen

"That means he also has your pads-" Max says with a chuckle.

"he's in deep sh*t."

-- (at Will's locker)

It was now Will's turn to go to Mr.Clarke's class and he wanted to make it earlier than others.

"Sh*t, Will do you have a pencil? Dustin broke mines with his desk." Mike says using his thumb to point to Dustin who only waved.

"Uh yeah its in my bag you can get it" Will was trying to get his science books.

"erm- Will?" Mike says a hint of blush appeared on his face.

"Hm" He didn't turn around still getting his stuff.

"Since when did you have a period?" Dustin asks squinting his eyes.

"What?"

The bell rang catching their attention, making Will grab his bag and run.

His bag still being open he dropped it by accident because he had a lot of stuff in his hand.

The kids walked pass him and gave him glares of disgust.

He saw that he had his sister's stuff like her fluffy pencil.

"I knew you were a little fairy but I didn't think you'd take it this far." Troy says with a snicker before walking away.

the rest of the class was embarassing.

---

Lizzie and Will went home and told each other about what happened and thought of ways where it wouldn't happen again.

[voiceless-terror]

Recognition

@aspecarchivesweek Day Five: Something New

Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Season One

In which Jon and Martin are more alike than they thought.

Jon, in spite of himself, was starting to get used to Martin living in the Archives.

Offering him shelter had been almost instinctual- after listening to his story, who wouldn’t? Terrorized for almost two weeks and no one, no one noticed. There was also the matter of Jon’s guilt; Martin thought he needed to put himself in danger to be thorough, to please Jon, and now he was homeless. Jon owed him this at the very least. No matter how much Elias disapproved of the situation.

And despite the occasional trouser-less wanderings, his presence was...appreciated. Late nights in the Archives were wearing him down: the statements were getting to him, and the unshakeable feeling of being watched when he knew he was alone was putting him on edge. Now he can blame that feeling on Martin, who he’d caught staring on more than one occasion. Jon was not surprised; he hadn’t been looking or feeling his best, highly unprofessional with his three-day stubble and rumpled clothes. Not a good look.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t enjoy the cup of tea when Martin joined him in his worst bouts of insomnia. He would sit on the tiny couch in his office, nursing his own mug and chattering away in a low tone that Jon was starting to find soothing instead of irritating. At first Jon clammed up, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion on his late night routine, but he soon found Martin didn’t expect him to respond or contribute, save the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. Sometimes Jon even craved the company, the familiar rhythms of Martin’s voice had become an unconscious comfort. 

Tonight he was looking particularly exhausted, slumped in his seat with deep purple bags under his eyes. It sent an unwelcome pang through Jon’s chest; Martin should be sleeping, not entertaining him because he chose to stay late. He said as much.

“You don’t have to stay up on my part.”

“Hm?” Martin looked up from his lap, eyes finding Jon’s. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I like the company, to be honest. Unless…?”

“I don’t mind,” Jon assured him. Shockingly, he found he meant it. Still, it didn’t ease his guilt. Martin was always here, never leaving the Archives for more than an hour to get food or other necessities. He considered his next words. “That being said, I hope you know you’re allowed to have a life outside of the institute. I won’t judge if you want to have a...late night, or go out. It’s not my business what you do in your free time.”

Martin squinted his eyes as if he didn’t understand the words Jon spoke. Christ, do I really seem that out of touch? He knew he could be severe and well, a bit of an ass at times. The stress of the job got to him more than he cared to admit. But he didn’t want his assistants to think they should follow his example. He was Head Archivist, it fell on his shoulders to get this place in some semblance of order. 

“I’m not really one for nights out, Jon,” Martin gave that familiar, self-deprecating laugh as he leaned back in his chair, an almost defeated-like set to his shoulders. “Well, besides the occasional drink with Tim and Sasha. And even those are sort of...I don’t know. They have their own thing going, and I feel like-”

“A bit of an outsider,” Jon provided before he could activate his ‘word to mouth’ filter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No,” Martin cut him off. “You’re right. Feels like I’m intruding.”

“Their banter can be overwhelming for the, ah, uninitiated.” On the few times he’d gone out with them in research, he’d felt more lonely than included. His awkward attempts at interjecting could make a conversation fall flat and he felt the need to accept every drink they handed in him the hopes of ‘loosening up.’ It never worked. They were never mean about it, no- or at least had the decency not to do it in his presence. 

“Tell me about it.” Martin gave Jon a tiny little smirk that sent his heart stuttering in his chest for no particular reason. “I’m used to it, is all. This isn’t much of a change in routine, worms notwithstanding.”

“You, er, don’t have friends you can meet up with? Or maybe a partner?” Christ, why am I prying? What’s gotten into me? Jon felt curious, the man practically lived with him and yet he barely knew him.

The bark of laughter he got in reply was sudden and more than self-deprecating. “A partner? Are you kidding me?” Martin’s tone threw him off-balance; it was jaded, bitter, not like him at all.

“I didn’t mean to pry-”

“No, it’s- to be frank, I don’t think I’m cut out for all that.” Martin toyed with the mug in his hands, gazing into it like it held the answers he needed. “I’ve uh, tried to go on a few dates, meet people, that sort of thing. But they all expect something at the end and it just never feels right, I can’t explain it. Like there’s something missing. ”

Jon paused; the words and their sentiment were not unfamiliar to him. In fact, they resonated quite deeply, if Martin meant what Jon thought he did.

“It’s always been that way- I get a crush, I get to know them, they want to, y’know, and I-I don’t know what's wrong with me, but I can’t-” He cut himself off, sitting up straighter as if suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this-”

“It’s fine.” And it was. Martin looked at his hands and Jon recognized the sadness in the set of his shoulders, the lines etched in his face. He never thought the two of them would have much in common but that- that was a feeling Jon knew all too well. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.”

Martin somehow managed to deflate even further, curling up as if trying to disappear. “Yeah, well- I think it’s time to admit that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”

The words hit Jon harder than expected. His fists tightened in his lap; he was sixteen again, wondering why the kiss he stole in a backroom felt more invasive than intimate. He was reading romance novels, understanding the words but not the feelings they were supposed to invoke. He was in college, being called a ‘tease’ or a ‘prude’ when he pulled away at the end of the night. And it was all accompanied by that deep, crushing fear that he’d never be enough. 

No, you’re not that kid anymore. 

And Martin shouldn’t have to be either.

“What’s that look for?”

He was drawn from his thoughts at Martin’s words, looking up from the scratched wood of his desk. “Sorry?”

“You’ve- you’ve got that look on your face, like you’re const- like you’re thinking really hard.”

Jon tried to think of a way to word his query delicately, but ‘delicacy’ had never been his strong suit, according to Georgie. Come to think of it, it was never hers either. “Have you ever considered that maybe- that you’re- you’re of the persuasion, that is-”

Martin shot him a deadpan look, unimpressed. “Yeah, I know I’m gay, Jon.”

“That’s not-” He sighed in frustration, fuming at his inability to communicate. “It’s okay to not feel that way. I never have. It’s normal.”

Martin blinked. “Sorry?”

“Asexuality, that is,” he said, finally managing to get out the words. “I was...in a similar position, I guess you could say. I didn’t feel the way you were ‘supposed’ to feel, like how all the books and TV shows describe it. Zero interest in anything sexual, and I thought...well, I thought something was wrong with me.” Jon felt a lump building in his throat, much to his horror. “But being able to put a name to it, an identity, it just felt right.” Martin’s face was unreadable- had he spoken out of turn? Did he have this all wrong? 

He tried to clarify. “What I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like, that...feeling you described. But it doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for love. You...you shouldn’t have to feel that way about yourself. You’ll find people who accept you. You’re not doomed to be lonely.” Now you’re just getting sentimental. Jon wasn’t one to dole out advice. He attempted to reign it in, get himself back on solid, familiar ground. “Maybe don’t take me for an example, though. I assure you, my isolation is very much self-imposed.”

Martin didn’t laugh. For a brief, panicky moment Jon thought he might have offended him, assumed the wrong thing, taken him out of context. But Martin met his eyes and Jon saw it- a look of dawning understanding, of comprehension and knowing and as much as Jon wanted to look away he couldn’t, because for the first time in a while he thought he might have said the right thing. 

_____

He watched as Martin puttered about in the break room and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Martin hadn’t said much after their conversation, just thanked him in a choked voice and mumbled some excuse about going off to bed. Jon felt a bit conflicted- he now had time to ruminate on the conversation, pick it apart and wonder if he said anything wrong. He didn’t think he had, but his instincts had been proven wrong before.

Still, the thought of helping one person, sparing them from that crippling self-doubt and inadequacy, made any embarrassment or awkwardness well worth it. So here he was, shuffling his feet and holding a stack of paper, stapled and neat and in some cases, annotated. He cleared his throat and Martin turned away from the sink to face him.

“Oh, g-good morning, Jon.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel, throwing it lightly on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”

He’d gotten two hours tops on the lumpy couch in his office. I need to invest in another cot. But he nodded anyway, walking forward and thrusting the pile out for Martin to take. Martin looked down at it quizzically but took it all the same, his face softening as he flipped through the pages.

“I, um- I printed out some articles that I thought might be of interest,” Jon rambled, feeling more awkward by the second. Was this too forward of me? “I’ve always found it easier to read on paper instead of the screen. For ah, concentration purposes. This- this isn’t required reading, or anything. Just might be helpful for, uh, figuring things out.”

Martin didn’t look up from the pages in his hand, instead zeroing in on them with a more intense stare. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with sincerity. “Thanks. It uh, it means a lot.”

“Yes,” Jon replied nonsensically, having no response to the emotion in Martin’s words. “You- you don’t need to talk to me about this, if you’d rather not. But I’m available if you’d like to.” He paused. Best to keep this somewhat professional- it was almost nine. “Outside of normal working hours, of course.”

“Of course,” Martin echoed, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he finally met Jon’s eyes. He fought down the urge to smile back, instead muttering an excuse and turning to flee the room. I think I’ve filled my emotional quota for the week. 

They don’t talk about it again, but a few days later a sticky note appears on his desk. Thanks- MB. Underneath the clear script he’d doodled a small flag- black, grey, white, and purple. 

Jon puts it in his right-hand drawer next to an old polaroid of the Admiral, where it stays.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782318

[laurenairay]

11 and Tazer?🥺

Thanks for requesting this one anon! A little angstier than I originally intended, but I hope you enjoy it!

Tagging @texanstarslove and @princessphilly 😘

“I didn’t know where else to go”

*

It was late. Like, gone midnight pitchblack outside late. But still someone was knocking on your door, breaking you out of sleep. You groaned as the knocking continued, forcing yourself out of bed and turning on the bedside light, groaning even more when you noticed the time.

What the hell? Who was at the door at this time of night?

But still the knocking continued, so you shuffled through your apartment, if nothing else than to make the noise stop and to make sure you didn’t get complaints (again) from your neighbours. Whoever this was had better have a fantastic reason.

Who you saw when you opened the door was the last person you were expecting. There stood the man who spent casual nights in your bed every now and again, the bright shining star of the city…and he looked like an absolute mess. What the hell?

“Jon? What are you doing here?” you asked, frowning.

“I-I don’t know. I just…I didn’t know where else to go,” he said, a little choked.

The misery in his voice, shoulders slumped in defeat, like he was broken, made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

“Shit, come inside, come on,” you murmured.

He nodded at you in thanks as you stepped aside to let him in, but didn’t speak any further words, eyes wide and empty and fuck if that didn’t make you feel sick. What had set him off like this? When you stepped closer to take his jacket though, you figured out at least part of the problem.

“Damn Jon, how much have you had to drink?” you frowned.

This wasn’t like him. Not at all.

“Not that much,” he shrugged, avoiding your gaze.

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, folding your arms over your chest. “You smell like a brewery, Jon, come on,”

His forehead pinched together as he grimaced, eyes still so empty and sad, and you just sighed.

“Make yourself comfortable on the sofa, okay? I’ll get you some water,”

You didn’t wait for him to answer before you left the room, heading for the kitchen, glad for the space to gather your thoughts. While this thing between you and Jon was fun and intimate and incredible…it had only ever been friends with benefits, something hot and easy with no strings, a way to blow off steam after a hard day. But always with a few messages to see if the other one was available. You knew that the team had gone through a bad string of losses recently…but Jon turning up here drunk and sad and lost in his own head? That really wasn’t what you did at all.

But like hell you were going to turn him away. Not when he came here above anywhere else. Not when he needed you. By the time you returned with the promised glass of water, he was slumped on the sofa, shoes neatly placed to the side of him, his head in his hands, only making your heart break a little more.

“Hey, here’s the water. Can you manage it on your own?”

He looked up at you with a weak smile but nodded, taking the offered glass. “Thanks,” he said, voice rough.

You bit your bottom lip but sat down next to him, taking in his appearance as he slowly sipped at the water, staring blankly at the wall. His hair was unkempt, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and his shirt was rumpled, the most ruffled you’d ever seen him, not even considering the heavy air of alcohol leaking out of his pores. But it was his face, his eyes…he looked tired. Like he was just done with everything. He looked like he had nothing left to give. And that was what worried you.

“What’s happened tonight, Jon?” you asked softly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He huffed out a laugh, running his hand through his hair like you’d thought.

“I know you know how badly we’ve been playing,” he started.

He waited for you to nod, however hesitantly, before he sighed.

“People are calling for me to have the C taken away,” he mumbled.

White hot fury filled your body, surprising you with its intensity, before you shook your head to clear it, resting a hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“Whoever said that, whoever they are, are wrong. You’re a great captain,” you said firmly.

Jon laughed again, this time with a much more bitter tone, making you frown. He didn’t believe that talk, did he?

“I’ve barely scored in the last 10 games, can’t inspire the team, can’t get my head in the game. What use am I?” he muttered.

“Hey,” you said sharply.

Jon’s head snapped towards you, his eyes wide at your cutting tone.

“You listen to me, Jonathan Toews. Your team, your friends, would follow you to the end of the earth. They believe in you. They trust you. They know that you are fighting every night,” you said angrily, “you haven’t given up on them, have you?”

“Of course I haven’t,” he spluttered.

“Then why the hell do you think they’ve given up on you?” you snapped.

Jon opened and closed his mouth, looking a little helpless, his eyes still so wide and lost. You sighed, shaking your head, trying to calm yourself down. Getting angry wasn’t going to help him, definitely not tonight.

“They love you, Jon, just as much as you love them. The team’s opinions are all the matter, not armchair experts, okay? Scoring will come back with time – it doesn’t help that you’re just piling all this pressure on yourself,” you said softly.

“I can’t just act like everything’s fine, like these problems are serious,” Jon mumbled, looking away from you again.

“Why not? Hockey isn’t just a job to you, is it? It’s your life, it’s what you love. So try to remember why you fell in love with it in the first place, hey?” you said, offering him a smile.

He looked back at you, smiling slightly at the sight of your smile, just like you’d hoped.

“Look, Jon, it’s late,” you sighed, rolling your neck, “Why don’t we get some sleep, hm?”

“Sorry, yeah, I should go,” he winced, starting to stand up.

But your hand reaching up for his arm made him pause.

“I said we should get sleep, Jon. Not that you had to leave,” you pointed out.

Jon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before his face relaxed into a smile, the first genuine one you’d seen all night, and he took your hand resting on his arm into his hand, helping you stand up too.

“Can I take a quick shower? I can’t imagine I smell that great,” he said, a little sheepish.

You couldn’t help but laugh, nudging his hip with yours.

“Yeah, go ahead, you know where everything is,” you nodded, smiling, “Join me in bed when you’re ready?”

He smiled back at you, nodding too, before he leant down to kiss you softly, sweetly, just long enough to make your heart start beating a little faster before he broke away. You watched him walk away to the bathroom before you laughed under your breath, starting to move yourself. Door locked, lights off, back under the duvet. You had no idea what things would be like in the morning, with Jon sober and probably regretting all the alcohol, but you could only hope that he took your words to heart. He was special, he had to know that. And maybe him coming here meant that he thought you were special too.

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse. 

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year. 

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City. 

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said. 

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.” 

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.” 

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance. 

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow. 

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?” 

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum. 

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.” 

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.” 

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.” 

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.” 

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you. 

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!” 

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said. 

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.” 

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact. 

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.” 

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?” 

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile. 

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John. 

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head. 

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.” 

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance. 

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break. 

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet. 

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name. 

14. Won’t drop dead. 

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation: 

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas. 

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary. 

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7. 

6. Laughed. 

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard. 

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project. 

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb. 

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you. 

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea. 

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.” 

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.” 

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.” 

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder. 

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed. 

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a  dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing. 

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7. 

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.” 

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit. 

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?” 

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?” 

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked. 

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?” 

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.” 

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.” 

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion. 

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip. 

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty? 

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs. 

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. 

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest. 

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.” 

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them. 

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. 

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. 

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit. 

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.” 

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure. 

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek. 

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.” 

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans. 

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach. 

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew. 

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed. 

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever. 

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there. 

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze. 

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left. 

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited. 

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad. 

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks. 

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew. 

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front  and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?” 

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.” 

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue. 

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh. 

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew. 

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out. 

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest. 

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you. 


But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.” 

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” 

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching. 

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?” 

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core. 

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came. 

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered. 

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock. 

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening. 

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.” 

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume. 

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response. 

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

 “Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground. 

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded. 

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.” 

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance. 

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire. 

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.” 

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away. 

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505. 

[PART 2.]

[canadian-riddler]

idk if tumblr ate my ask but. if it did, 30 (obsession) for the riddler or scriddler?

Tumblr says, ‘your other ask was delicious, nom nom nom’

I says, ‘even if it hadn’t this is taking me a really long time because the music I’m listening to has made me too hype to write with any speed at all’

AO3 :D

‘Obsession’

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma [Scriddler]

The first time Jonathan saw him was on the front page of the newspaper.  He could say with absolute certainty that was the day it started. 

Before that day Jonathan would have been first in line to declare there was no such thing as a human being that was so attractive that one could not control themselves.  It was poppycock, he insisted.  Anyone who allowed something as primal as hormones to waylay their every thought was a weakling and a fool.  Jonathan had looked upon a lifetime of people and had never so much as done a single double-take.

The newspaper was in a browbeaten metal box next to a bus stop.  It was locked and the only access was either by key, vandalism, or coin.  Jonathan obviously did not have a key, the location made it difficult to vandalise, and he was loath to pay for absolutely anything.  But one of those three he needed choose, and he justified the third by telling himself it was a small price to pay to get the newspaper into his hands and thus have physical evidence that the man pictured there really was not so beautiful as his memory was bound to recall him.  He tucked it under his arm and did not look at it until he was safely home, and he discovered he was correct: he was not so beautiful as he recalled.  He was even moreso.

Jonathan put the newspaper into his desk drawer and failed not thinking about it.  Every single minute of every single day was haunted by the image of the beautiful man printed upon its face.  He could not sleep for the thought of it.  His lectures at the university, already marred with his general disinterest with being there, were now riddled with pauses and repetition as his thoughts unravelled even while he was speaking them.  He was well-known to the staff as a solitary and unpleasant creature, so his constant inquiries as to the man in the newspaper were met mostly with confusion and dismissal.  He was disgusted in himself for the asking but he could not stop.

Until the night he no longer had to, for he entered his apartment to find Edward there within it.  He stood in the doorway to his bedroom motionless and thoughtless and directionless.

“Well,” Edward said, his voice beautiful and direct from his lips to Jonathan’s ears, “you wanted me.  Here I am.”

Jonathan had never put a single neuron into concluding what Edward must have smelled like, but all of the ones available were thinking about it now.  He had no name to put to the man’s subtle scent other than ‘perfect’.  And he was draped casually across Jonathan’s desk, which would doubtlessly cause it to sink into the wood and remain there long after he left as an olfactory spectre which Jonathan would find himself unable to escape.

His hair was in that god-awful tousled style that Jonathan would now never be able to see on another man without thinking of him.  It was that certain colour that was achieved only by maple leaves only on one day of the year and some of it was visible from the top of the shirt of which he had not done up the top few buttons.  Jonathan had a nearly visceral need to see the rest of it, and whereupon it ran down his torso, down towards his artfully concealed genitals.  Jonathan’s own were filling with a steady heat it was already too late to hide.  Not even the rare shame threatening to wash through him was enough to convince his barely used equipment to settle back where it belonged.  For all his former conviction, it turned out he shared this carnal similarity with all those he had debased after all.

Edward laughed.  It was condescending, and Jonathan hated that he deserved it.  Edward swung himself to sitting with his knees spread and Jonathan hated that he had done it.  “Surely you haven’t been stalking me all this time just so you could stare at me,” Edward said.  “What was your aim, hm?  Did you mean to lock me up in your basement, perhaps?”

Jonathan had indeed fantasized many times about that very thing.  About restraining him, naked, to the wall with manacles which would chafe and bruise and ruin his beautiful skin.  He would leave him down there until he was emaciated and weak and then this would all end for he would have been made ugly as all of humanity was.

Edward shook his head and twitched his wrist up to eye level.  “I’m out of time, I’m afraid.  Good talk.”  And he simply stood and left as Jonathan stared after him, his entire body rigid and unmoving.

The obsession somehow escalated from there.

His room was soon plastered with every newspaper page which contained any mention of Edward.  Any and all news stories about him were preserved on video tape.  He dreamed and he dreamed and he dreamed of Edward, and he had never before been one for masturbation, but it did not matter how often or in what way he did it for the intense sexual desire Jonathan had for him never ceased.  In the dreams Edward was always beautiful, always enticing Jonathan to come to him, but when he did his hands could not feel the shape of him nor could his mind conjure up any image of what he may have looked like beneath his clothes and he knew it was because whatever he managed to think up would be so far inferior to the real thing that it was not worth the effort to visualise.  He lost hours sitting at his desk, the scent Edward had left behind erasing all notion of time or purpose.

Then Edward began to turn up in Jonathan’s daily life.

Jonathan did not ever have to look for him.  He would simply appear at places where Jonathan was already fated to be.  Some of these places were common sense and some of them were not, but Edward appeared in all of them nonetheless.  Jonathan could not leave his apartment without scanning every person he passed for Edward.  He could not remain inside of his apartment without scanning every person who passed the window for Edward.  Night was the only time he could continue his work, and continue his work he did for he had concluded it was his only way out of this.  Edward had stolen his body and so Jonathan would steal his mind.

When next Jonathan saw him the toxin was ready.  He approached, which he had never done before.  Edward’s smile implied he had anticipated such a thing and Jonathan hated the thrill it sparked in his stomach. 

“You have something in mind today, I take it?” Edward said.  His words were the lyrics to a song no one had the skill to write.  Jonathan nodded. 

“I have a truck parked out back.”

Edward hummed in satisfaction and followed him.  Jonathan did not want to take his eyes away when he lifted himself into the bed and leaned back in it as though it were his own and not Jonathan’s, but he had to.  He had to stop this now.  He removed the needle from the glovebox and concealed it behind his back.

“What have you got there?” Edward asked.  Jonathan did not answer.  He instead climbed onto the bed and straddled Edward and pressed his left wrist above his head, at which time he -

They were so close together.  And he knew.  Jonathan could tell that he knew, but he had come anyway.  All of this together stole Jonathan’s breath and his thoughts and replaced it with the violent need to grind his body against Edward’s until the ever-present ache between his legs was relieved at last.  He glanced downward to find that Edward’s bulge was no more present than it had been before, but his was firm beneath Edward’s knowing fingers.  He turned his head aside, into his right arm, in an attempt to dissipate the ensuing moan into his sleeve, but he knew the moment he did so it had not worked.

“Something tells me,” Edward said with accursed playfulness, “that drug isn’t going to be one of the ones I like.”

Jonathan could not answer because his ability to form words had been lost with a motion of Edward’s free hand.

“You know, if I wasn’t certain that was a lethal dose of your little fear experiment, I would have gone for it.  But as it is I’ll have to refuse.  No hard feelings.”

Jonathan bent down and pressed the point of the needle against the side of Edward’s neck.  Edward did not flinch.  Sweat was beading along Jonathan’s hairline and underneath his arms and the place where Edward’s hand was still bewitching him.  “If I kill you,” Jonathan murmured into his ear, “then this will end.”

“Why would you want it to?” Edward whispered.  His breath seemed to caress Jonathan’s skin.  “Tell me, Jonathan.  When was the last time you felt this much excitement?  This alive?  You never have, have you?  That’s why you’ve fallen into this so hard and so deep.  Your work gives you purpose, but it does not give you life.  Not like I do.”

Jonathan prayed that his grip upon Edward’s wrist would not weaken and that his thumb on the plunger would not falter.

“If you kill me,” Edward went on, the sound of his voice making Jonathan helpless, “you will never know the part of yourself that I have awoken.  And you can’t have that.  Can you.”

Jonathan’s breath stalled.  Edward’s eyes glittered knowingly in the dark and Jonathan could not stop looking at them.

“Drop the needle and do what you should have done when I laid myself out so nicely for you on your desk.”

Jonathan’s body obeyed against the panicked protestations of his mind.  He was kissing him at long last, hard and desperate.  His hand had released the needle and was clenching as much of Edward’s buttock as it could grasp, and Edward was laughing but Jonathan did not realise it until he ran out of breath.  He lowered his head to the breast of the man who had broken him and left it there.  Edward’s free hand was in Jonathan’s hair, at once reassuring and condescending, and he did not want for him to ever move it.

“Oh, Jonathan,” Edward fairly hummed into his ear, “you have been fun.”  And his hand, still holding Jonathan’s crotch, clenched and twisted it with sudden violence.  Jonathan saw white and that was all he was able to perceive for a good few moments.  His resumed awareness told him he was curled against the side of the truck, and once he had regained enough of his breath he scrabbled his hand up the bed until he could push himself to sitting.  He looked over his shoulder to see Edward sitting atop the other side, and as soon as their eyes met Edward smiled and swept his legs over the side and disappeared.  Jonathan could not get up fast enough to chase him and he noticed with a start that the syringe was gone.

Days went by.  Days, and then weeks, and then months.  Edward had gone.  He had vanished.  Jonathan tore through newspapers for mention of him in between glances at the ever-on television for a hint towards his whereabouts.  He scoured the Internet to the best of his limited ability and glowered at the publicly viewable footage and photographs and words describing the man who should have been his and only his.  He fantasized about storming into the places who thought they had the right to publish anything about him, inflicting upon them their worst fears and watching as the building burned to the ground before him.  He did not purposely sleep, and the occasions he found himself doing so he woke with clothes both sticky and sweat-soaked, driven by dreams of all the things he could have done when Edward had been beneath him but had not.

It was seven months and twenty-five days later when Jonathan received the postcard.  The photograph upon the front contained nothing he recognised, but the words upon the back froze his very blood:

You want me.  Here I am.

Jonathan learned then there was something worse than lust.  The rage that rose up in him was blinding and numbing and deafening, and a scream of fury tore a strip into the back of his throat that would echo for days.  His hands, divorced from any thought at all, tore the postcard asunder into a hundred jagged pieces and his eyes did not watch himself do it.  When vision returned to them his breath shuddered and his legs weakened.  He found himself kneeling on the floor amidst the fragments, and after a moment he began to gather them together in a panic.  “No,” he whispered to himself with a horror he would never learn how to inflict upon another.  “No!” 

He tried for hours to reassemble the card, but to no avail.  The pieces were too small and too many.  He held the scrap which contained the most of the words Edward had written and clenched it tightly within both hands.  And then Jonathan knew something which was nearly as horrible as the rage had been, and that was sorrow.  His body was a rigid inward curl and he cried hot and bitter tears into his own knees, his forehead pressed into his clasped hands.  Edward’s laugh was echoing in his ears.  Even now Jonathan could not find it ugly.

The sleep that came to Jonathan then was of a sort he had not known in years, deep and black and dreamless, and when he awoke and looked upon the evidence of what he had spent months upon months buried inside of he felt nothing.  He felt nothing at all.  Edward was still beautiful, but whatever part of him had cared was no longer there.  His eyes fell to the paper scattered upon the floor. 

“No,” he said to it.  “No, I think I will wait until it is you who wants me.”

And he rose to his feet and laughed and began to think of what he would do when finally that day came. 

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Blackout (Edward Nygma x Reader)

WARNING: Mental Illness themes and mentions are strong throughout. Death!

"(Y/N)?" A nurse with a shrill voice said making you flinch and turn to face her. She was smiling, one that was rather malicious. That made you nervous as to what was her next words would be. "Doctor Strange wants to see you. I believe he has a new treatment for you." Your blood ran cold before draining from your face. 

Just about every patient at Arkham has figured out that those who catch Dr Strange's attention either never returned or were never the same. You felt pairs of eyes on you, some over hearing, just by the very mention of his name got everyone's attention. It was like being in a slaughter house and you had no doubt that such an environment wasn't helping your mental state. 

"No..." You said quietly, curling into yourself slightly as though it would change her mind.  "Come now, (Y/N), you've been so good this past week. Don't you want to get better?" The nurse moved a hand to your shoulders, her grip tight but not painful. "It won't be long. By the time you're done, it'll be time for dinner. That's very soon." You still didn't budge. The nurse's demeanor changed ever so slightly, a bit of aggravation tugging at her. "(Y/N), do you really want to undo all of the hard work you've done and lose day time privileges? You'll risk solitary confinement and things will be a lot more difficult for you. This treatment is happening whether you like it or not!" You knew you couldn't push any further and so slowly you stood up and the nurses attitude changed to the once again pleasant nurse who gently guided you. Before she could nudge you out the door, you halted turning back to look at the other inmates within the cafeteria. "They're not going anywhere." The nurse assured you with another soft tug. You complied. 

 "What's with that one again?" Edward raised an eyebrow watching just like everyone else had as you left the room. "Well they don’t know, they have many theories but there's always something else that’s unexplained." Jonathan said smoothly. "Something else?" Edward raised an eyebrow. "They are aware of everyone's surroundings, better than ordinary." Jonathan explained. "What?" Two-Face furrowed his brow and Jonathan sighed. "Think of Arkham as a doll house and every person is a doll, (Y/N) knows what everyone is doing, what's happening even when they aren't there, a spectator to real life." "How can someone know what's happening when they aren't there?" Harvey pressed. "Well...security cameras if they had access but that's the point, how can someone know what's happening if they aren't there?" Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Oh I get it!" Harley suddenly spoke up. "They don't! They imagine it!" Jonathan gestured to Harley sending a pointed look to Two-Face. "So they daydream? That's it?" Two-Face said gruffly. "No, Harv! They stare at everyone, watching us all day long so they predict what we would do and where we'd go!" Harley continued. Two-face shook his head. "They say I'm crazy." "Crazy... or smart, smarter than many of the crazies in here." Jonathan responded. "I personally would say they're in a better position than most of these meat heads." Edward said. "Wow, complimenting someone other than yourself Edward? Looks like your treatment is working." Jonathan smirked. Edward scoffed. "Hardly! It's not difficult to outsmart these dimwitted goons. It's not even a challenge! If anything they've barely proven that they've got more than one braincell!" Jonathan sighed in response but Edward continued. "Besides, I would know, I'm the smartest man in Gotham! If not the whole world." "Oh clam it, bozo!" Harley rolled her eyes. "Now, now Harley...the clown many be in solitary but keep your cool." Jonathan said smoothly. "So I can sit here I listen to the cucumber spout Riddles and call me a dumb broad!?" "No one is calling you such things Harley." Jonathan responded all the whilst Edward gawked. "Cucumber!? Seriously!?" "Hey! Check the facts yourself, you wear green, your green with jealousy half the time when Batman is around and you’re made of mostly water! Now who's the dumb broad!?" "Harley, again, no one is calling you that. No one doubts your intelligence, we only doubt how willing you are to use it." Jonathan finished. Harley huffed. 

You hurriedly looked around the room to find nothing out of place, the walls dirty and barely resembling the white painted walls. They hadn't been cleaned in at least a decade, grime filling every corner as well the random stains that likely had a grotesque story behind each one. No doubt the asylum blamed all of this on a lack of funding rather than admitting to Gotham city that the asylum isn't fit for purpose and hasn't been for years. 

Dr Strange sat at a steel table in the middle of the room that was big enough for two people to work at either side. A bulb hung down from the ceiling which no doubt would explode any given moment just to add to the worn down Arkham aesthetic. "Ah, finally we meet at last." Strange's voice gave you the chills. You didn't look in his eyes, keeping them on your now seated lap. "Your name is (Y/N) (L/N), yes?" You nodded. "I'm told you have been very well behaved over the week. You've been working on social boundaries of sorts, yes?" "Do you mean not spying on people?" You asked. "Is that what you'd call it?" "No. It's what the nurses call it." You retorted. "I understand you were in some trouble when you broke in-" Dr Strange began but didn’t get to finish. "I didn't break in." You interrupted. "The door was open and I didn't break anything." "Yes, you left everything untouched, but nevertheless, you know you can't be in the security room. What were you looking for?" Dr Strange asked. "You know that." You retorted. "I need to hear it from you." Strange pressed. " I wanted to see the security cameras." "Why?" "So I could see what people were doing." You said flatly. "Do you know why you care so much?" Slowly, you shook your head. "That's your job though, right? Your job is to help me figure that out and move on?" You replied. He seemed to think about this statement momentarily. "Indeed. For now though, we are working towards really understanding your mind to get an idea of a diagnosis. I see in your file that there is mentions of multiple possible disorders?" You shrugged slightly. "Although this wasn't confirmed due to your...obsession." Dr Strange finished. "Is that what they call it?" You asked lightly. "No." Doctor Strange said flatly. "That's what I call it."  Finally you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. "Dr Arkham missed the 'g' in 'diagnosis'." Strange looked at the file in his hand to realise there was that typo but wasn't certain how you could have seen it at such an angle. "Now, let's see about these blackouts." He began. 

Dinner had come and gone and you hadn't returned, not that it surprised anyone at all. The expectation was that if you did return, you were lucky. Even if you had completely lost your mind. 

 At ten thirty, the lights were always out, other than the very dim ceiling lights that were solely for staff to maneuver in and out of the corridors without disturbing the patients. Despite lights going out at ten every week night (and at ten thirty on weekends), patients didn't actually go to sleep at that time. The staff didn't seem to care, as long as they were in their cells. That made the routine rather redundant in terms of creating a daily routine for the patients. So ten thirty rolled around and a nurse was pushing a patient on a wheelchair, seemingly back to their cell. 

Harley wanted to have a look and recognised the patient. It was you, slumped over yourself and unmoving. Harley kept quiet, watching intently as you were wheeled past her cell. You were a lucky one. You had made it back here in the end. 

You woke up the next morning with a very bad headache. It reminded you of your blackouts but judging by your 'treatment' that was likely the cause. Your limbs felt heavy, your brain working on empty. There was many times that you stumbled over yourself on the way to the cafeteria. The same nurse from yesterday was in charge and awaiting your arrival as she moved her attention from Harvey Dent to you. She immediately tugged you to sit next to Jervis Tetch. Across from you sat Jonathan Crane and Harvey Dent. You jumped slightly when Harleen Quinzell no so gracefully sat beside you. However the nurse kept your attention in her with a wide almost menacing grin. "Good morning, (Y/N)!" She said brightly. "How are you feeling today?" She was too happy and by far too loud. Her voice grated against your ears, making you wince though the pain if your pounding headache. "My brain has exploded and my heart is racing like a train." You grumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. "Oh is that so? Well, I'll get you some painkillers for that head whilst you have breakfast. How does that sound?" You grumbled with a nod, anything to get her to stop talking. 

As she walked away, you rubbed your aching temples, eager for some kind of relief. "Oatmeal and toast, it seems to be today...as usual." Harvey grumbled. "My puddin' still ain't here!" Harley scowled, making you wince slightly. "Hey, do that one a favour and don't make such a fuss." Harvey gestured to you, sending Harley a look. "Give it a rest for today won't you?" Harley rolled her eyes. "Fine!" She turned to look at you with a sweet smile. "Sorry, dollface!" You nodded. "Don't worry about it, Harley." You groaned, putting your head on the cold table. "That bad, hm?" Two-Face asked. "I don't even remember what happened." You grumbled against the table. "My hands hurt. My head hurts...everything hurts." The nurse caught Jonathan's eye, she was briskly approaching that sadistic grin still on her face. "Well, your saviour and your hell is approaching. Someone actually did get you something after all." Jonathan nudged your side. You groaned. "Maybe it's rat poison." "It's pills by the look of it." "Arsenic then." "Here you are, (Y/N) dear. For all of your cooperation last night and as well as your behaviour." You picked up the glass of water in front of you as she handed you two pills. You cast a quick glance at Jonathan who was also looking back at you. "C'mon arsenic." You mumbled, popping them in your mouth. Jonathan smirked. He understood, you weren't the only one who thought Arkham Asylum was worse than death and hell combined. The nurse grabbed your jaw, opening your mouth and making sure the pills were gone before she left you alone. "Why wouldn't I take the painkillers if I'm in agony?" You asked dumbfounded. Jonathan shrugged. "Probably checking you still have that initiative." Two-Face smirked. 

As trays of oatmeal were given out, you couldn't help but notice that whilst you had been sat with this particular group, one of them were missing. "Where's Edward?" You asked. "He's usually one of the firsts to get here." "He was put in solitary confinement." Jonathan said, making a look of disgust at the greyish, blob on his plate. "Solitary confinement? Why?" You asked. Two-Face shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe riddled one of the docs to death." He snickered. "He was taken for his own treatment, going crazy!" Harley grinned at the fond memory. "After some time, you were brought back to your cell and minutes later he was covered in blood and being almost dragged to Solitary Confinement." Harley explained. 

You couldn't help but notice that during this time, Jervis hadn't looked up from his lap, not even so much as glanced at his food. Although you had been around long enough to know that Jervis had some days like this. Perhaps running around in wonderland in his mind. You turned back to Harley. "Blood?" "Yeah, news has it that two guards were killed a few rooms down. I say good on him. No idea he had it in him! " Two-face responded. "Damn...and I missed it." You said eyes wide. "You were out like a light when I saw ya!" Harley giggled. "You could have been that bozo's puppet and never had a clue!" "Who's?" You frowned. "The-The puppet guy! Y'know, talks through that puppet. Scar-face? Damn what's his name!?" "Arnold Wesker." Jonathan replied. "Yeah, him!" Harley said excitedly. You turned to the other side of the room. 

You'd seen Arnold Wesker a couple of times but never actually spoken to him. Across from him was someone you were had spoken to many times. Peter Merkel Jr. Also known as Rag Doll. He was mostly known for being triple jointed, a contortionist. Well...rumour had it that being triple jointed ran in his family. A trait he didn't inherit and in the end, he supposedly had many life-threatening surgeries to allow his joints to move in inhuman ways. He could actually be a decent funny guy...once you got past his creepy communication skills. You turned back to the group around you. 

"Group therapy today, shit I forgot." Two-Face said suddenly. "How could you ever forget such a momentous occasion?" Jonathan said sarcastically. "It's you, me and (Y/N) in this one. If Edward is there, who knows. Don't know about who the others will be though." 

As each patient was situated in a seat within the circle of chairs, a guard approached you. "Hands out." He commanded gruffly as he took out hand cuffs. "Are you kidding me? For what?" You nodded to the cuffs as Dr Vern approached. He was one of the more patient and less brutal doctors who seemed to actually somewhat want to help patients, rather than torture them. Since observing that many times, you learned to somewhat trust him. Especially since he had treated you a couple of times and actually considered you a person. "It's just a precaution due to your therapy last night, (Y/N). I can assure you, it's nothing to worry about, they'll be off as soon as the session is over." He put a hand on your shoulder and you looked uncertain before showing your hands and wrists. You noticed Edward was getting the same treatment, looks like he made it out of isolation after all, even if it's only for a brief time. Although he was cuffed because he was in isolation and therefore deemed just as unpredictable. 

Dr Vern sat on the opposite side of you and at the top of the circle. "Alright..." He hummed to himself as other inmates began to settle, whilst he looked at his clipboard. "...we have Arnold Wesker, Peter Merkel Jr, Edward Nygma, Harvey Dent, (Y/N) (L/N), Jonathan Crane, Victor Zsasz ...Jane Doe and last but not least, Roman Sionis." He looked over everyone with a small smile. "How is everyone today?" "Is that a legitimate question?" Edward huffed. "Of course, it is. It's the whole point of these sessions." Dr Vern responded. "Honesty is encouraged, there is no wrong answers." "Well then, I've felt like crap all day and to top it off, I'm now handcuffed." You grumbled. "I know, (Y/N). As I said, it's only a precaution whilst we wait to see if your treatment worked. Please don't take this as a punishment, you've been doing so well as of lately." Dr Vern turned to his right. "Roman, how are we doing today?" "Everyone is wearing their masks today." Roman responded quietly, as though distracted, not entirely present in the room. "You've been keeping to yourself, more frequently lately. Are you feeling okay?" Dr Vern pressed. "Yes, doc. In truth there is nothing new with me. Although that shouldn't be a surprise when it's clear that I am not insane." "Yes, so you've said but unfortunately your results say otherwise. Psychosis, remember?" Dr Vern responded. Roman grumbled. "Whatever." "Forgive me, Doctor but I can't help but notice Jane is here." Edward narrowed his gaze on the masked woman across from him. "We all know she doesn't respond as herself and hasn't said a word since she's got here. So pray tell, why exactly is she in a group therapy session where the whole point is to talk?" Jane continued to look down at her lap as though she hadn't heard anything. Her mask covered her entire head. She had two, that were known, this one was Arkham's 'finest'- hardly of her collection. Accommodations were made for her after discovering she tended to become violent and otherwise catatonic without a mask. So whilst she was usually in a straight jacket, they kept the mask on, she was more cooperative with it. Arkham figures it would be a process that eventually shed no longer need the mask. You begged to differ. You were willing to bet that it's simply Arkham giving her exactly what she wants. She was good like that, you admired it. "Jane is more than welcome to these sessions, Edward." Dr Vern responded, almost scolding in his tone. "She is more than welcome to break her silence at any time and if being here encourages her then she'll have overcome a great milestone. Leave her be." Edward rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Dr Vern looked towards Peter Merkel Jr, who wore a ghost of a smile on his face, all the while, his eyes wide. "Hello Peter, I haven't seen you in a while. How are you doing today?" Peters head flopped to Dr Verbs direction. "Hello, Dr Vern. I am doing just fine." His tone dripped in sarcasm. "I assume you are still in a lot of pain. Have you received those ointments today?" Peter hummed, rolling his shoulders further back than should be humanly possible. Then again, Merkel went through a lot of surgeries to make sure of that. "Yes, but only recently." "Ah, I see. Well, I'm certain you'll begin to feel better soon. What have you been doing since I last saw you?" Dr Vern asked. Peter hummed again. "Nothing. Staying in my cell. If not there-" Peters head snapped to look at you with his wide eyed smile. "- I've spent most of my time with (Y/N)." "I see. Are you two friends?" Dr Vern asked looking between you both. You shrugged. Peter responded. "Sure. Something like that. They are very intriguing." Dr Vern nodded as he scribbled on the clipboard, immediately you tried to see what he was writing, the cuffs making a clang. 

It was like an impulse, you had to know what he had written. Whilst you were excellent at keeping secrets, things went south if you were kept in the dark about anything, even the tiniest of details. Peter's grin widened in amusement and Dr Vern looked up at you. "It's alright, (Y/N). I'm just noting down what Peter has said. It's good progress for the both of you. If you two don't mind, might I ask Peter a question about this new friendship?" Your eyes narrowed but sat back on your chair whilst Peter agreed. "Peter, I hope you're encouraging (Y/N) to continue this good behaviour and not reduce it." Peter cackled. "That is your job, Doctor! I neither encourage one or the other. They appreciate my talents and I appreciate theirs." Doctor Vern didn't seem to like that answer much but continued. "(Y/N), why don't we move on to you? We have a lot to talk about." Dr Vern leaned forward in his chair. "You say you weren't feeling well this morning?" "Yes." You responded simply, shifting your wrists in the cuffs. "Describe it to me." Your face contorted as though remembering something suddenly. "What time is it?" Dr Vern caught on immediately. "I'll tell you after today's session, (Y/N). That's not important right now." "Yes, it is. I need to know." You insisted with slight panic. "No, you don't." Doctor Vern responded. "There's no need to be anxious, (Y/N). It's not necessary." "It is to me. You-you know that." You said shakily, fidgeting. "I'll strike you a deal, hold off for as long as you can, I guarantee by the end of the session you will know the time." Dr Vern responded. The distress was sudden upon your face, as you shifted against your cuffs. "Looks like the doc is gonna make them cry." Two-Face smirked. Dr Vern ignored him as your knees bounced with anxiety, looking almost uncontrollable. "(Y/N), focus of me." Dr Vern said soothingly. "I know why you want to know. The treatment has had you a little foggy and you've remembered about others outside of this room. You're trying to pin point where they are what they could possibly be doing. That's why you want to know the time. I promise you, you're stronger than the urge to know. You've not known all morning and everything is fine. Push through this urge." "Oh, now I get it." Jonathan thought aloud. "Put some volts in them and who knows what else you did to them last night and then torture them now. Very helpful indeed, doctor." "Jonathan, that's enough." Dr Vern looked at Jonathan. "You're agitating them." "Of course, they're agitated!" Edward said loudly with a roll of his eyes. "You'd think you'd take it easy on them after all that but no let's push them and wonder why they lash out! Morons!" "Both of you. Enough." Dr Vern said sternly. "You're encouraging them whilst I am trying to reason with them." 

Suddenly, your shaking stopped. You leaned back into your chair once more, oddly stoic. The shift was most definitely noticed by everyone in the room. "What's going on!?" Scar-Face snapped. "This'll be good." Two-Face smirked whilst Peter giggled with glee, eyes wide and unblinking. "It's between eleven and twelve. We haven't had lunch yet. Group therapy always happens at that time." You said quickly, answering your previous question. Dr Vern blinked with unease. "Alright, good. You've got your answer, now lets-" Suddenly, you spoke again, staring at nothing whilst your words came out rapidly."If it's eleven fifteen- the nurses will be going for their coffee break. Nurse Jill will be sneaking away with William Dean, the guard for the other ward probably for a quickie in the closet. If it's eleven thirty, Nurse Gillian will be preparing the next round of meds and wondering just where the hell Nurse Jill went." "Stop it." Dr Vern said quickly. Jonathan and Edward couldn't help but smirk at you but you didn't seem to notice anyone, lost in your own head. “If it's eleven forty-five, Nurse Jill will be hurrying back to her post before Doctor Strange leaves his office to head for the staff room for his own coffee. No milk, no sugar. Then he'll take a detour for the cameras, have a look at what we're all doing whilst Dr Vern rounds up today's group session, before Edward and I get the cuffs removed, we'll all be led to the cafeteria. Then Dr Vern will call his wife, and not get an answer, especially when his erratic patient reveals that his precious Sandra has been sleeping with the neighbour, fourteen blocks away. No doubt he'll rush home because he can't ignore what his patient said-" "(Y/N), enough!" Dr Vern snapped in anger whilst you finished your sentence "-even though he'll lose his temper at his patient." You finished in unison with Dr Vern's outburst. 

After a moment of silence, Dr Vern finally spoke. "You know where I live?" You smiled simply. "Of course. The security room isn't the only place I can get into. Dr Arkham's files are more than interesting to read. Although I'm certain he has just as many mental issues as the rest of us." "You've been sneaking in there too? Where the Asylum's files are kept?" Dr Vern asked. "Would you like to know the combinations for the locks?" You asked lightly. "You're asking for isolation, (Y/N)." He earned in response. "Am I? It says on your clipboard that I only get isolation if I black out." You shrugged. "I am perfectly conscious. Whilst I'm at it, that is not how you spell my last name." You said flatly. "See? Fun." Peter grinned at Victor Zsasz. "Now how about you don't put a recommendation in for another one of those nasty therapy you wrote down next to my name. My head is foggy as it is and I don't want to be a vegetable." You wagered. "So you can see what I've written?" Dr Vern stared you down. You smiled. "First, you can spell my name right, then you can score out that recommendation and then you can stop pressing me about every little thing I do or else I will do a lot more than prove how much I know. I'll also prove how I can use all of that really screw up your life."  Dr Vern's eyes narrowed on you. "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means, your life wouldn't be the first persons I've ruined. My family tries to keep that quiet, pay off anyone who will speak out but not even they weren't safe in the end." Dr Vern was quiet for a moment. "You were doing so well, (Y/N). We had really really hoped you wouldn't ruin all this good behaviour. So is this what you were doing last night? Spying with the security camera's again when you were supposed to be in bed?" Your face changed to confusion. "What?" "You were found out of bed with Mr Nygma last night. Have you been pretending all this time?" "I wasn't out of bed." You glared. "Ignore him, (Y/N)." Edward spoke up. "What do you mean I was out of bed!?" You glowered. "(Y/N), leave it." Jonathan said quieter. "No!" You said sharply. "You've already asked me about the incident and I told you what happened!" Edward glared at Dr Vern, ignoring your protest. "What happened!?" You snapped. "You and Nygma were found covered in blood last night." Dr Vern responded looking between the two of you, his pleasant demeanor long gone. "Two staff members were killed in that very room you were found in." "They deserved it!" Edward snapped. "They were hurting them!" "You expect anyone to believe that you defended (Y/N) and effectively killed those two people when you've shown almost no interest in (Y/N) before?" Dr Vern asked lightly. To his surprise, Jonathan responded. "I do. Your staff members are deplorable. I speak through experience on both ends. I think (Y/N) to be very lucky Edward was there." "Too right!" Harvey agreed. "The shit that goes down in this place is downright evil and that's coming from us!" Edward's jaw clenched. "Besides, (Y/N) was in an absolute state after that so-called ‘therapy’. They were wandering around and those two guards were going to take advantage of that. I would know since they were supposed to take me to my 'treatment' and suddenly (Y/N) wanders by and the things those men were saying... disgusting! I intervened the moment I saw that (Y/N) was beyond confused and dazed and instead growing distressed!" "Forgive me, doctor." Roman spoke up. "Isn't it Arkham's finest of staff's job to ensure the safety of all patients?" "Of course, it simply adds to the poor reputation of this place that they simply do not. So much so that other patients have to step in." Jonathan responded with a smirk. Your gaze was locked into Edward as you struggled to believe the story. 

He was narcissistic at the very least and didn't spent much time on you. Edward Nygma just didn't strike you as the saving type and you would have known if that was the case. 

You were waiting for Edward at this point to come out of isolation. You had asked almost every one Edward spoke to in the asylum. No one seemed to know anything and even confirmed your suspicions, Edward wouldn't just jump in to save an inmate but for whatever reason Edward had to lie, they'd support it. 

When Edward got out of isolation it was like a tease, you barely saw him, Arkham staff doing it's best to keep you apart. However whilst this was irritating, it got to a whole new level when Edward’s associates seemed to know exactly what had happened and weren't willing to share. Just the thought made you tremble, that Edward and his friends knew what really happened that night...and you didn't have a clue. 

You usually had taken satisfaction when Dr Vern handed in his resignation, he had to now that he knew how much you knew about his life. However, you noticed how disheveled he was and it dawned on you he must have confronted his wife. Dr Vern couldn't ignore such accusations, you knew that. It would have chewed away at him but you didn't get to enjoy the satisfaction. Not even when he glanced at you with unease when quitting. You couldn't enjoy it because your own thoughts were chewing away at you. You needed to know what happened that night and the longer you didn't get answers, the more drastic measures you'd take. 

By Saturday morning, you couldn't take it anymore. Perhaps it was a lack of sleep, or indigestion...or it was the question that had been tearing you apart for days. You knew you'd have to force Edward to talk. He was incredibly intelligent, he didn't slip up or give things away like the others did and in that moment, it simply drove you mad. 

When Edward locked eyes with you, his stomach dropped. To put it simply, you didn't look well. Clearly you hadn't been sleeping, there were dark circles under your eyes and you slightly curled into yourself, as though barely having the strength to hold your body up. Edward also couldn't help but wonder if you had been eating. From what he had seen you were in a foul mood, nearly getting yourself isolation multiple times. Each time Edward, Jonathan and Two-Face got you out of it. 

"Alright (Y/N), you can calm down now. Jervis picked up your book by mistake." Edward had said once, sliding the book towards you before you could get into serious trouble with the nurses. It seemed to distract the nurse more than it did you and his action, yet again caught you off guard. 

The second time he set off Harley, distracting the nurses, all because he insulted the joker who had still not gotten out of isolation. 

Your piercing stare could have surely killed him if he hadn't been across the room. He knew immediately that you were hitting your breaking point and so when you stormed off, he followed. 

You led him to an empty lab. A lab with no camera. That left Edward on edge but held onto the fact that you were still very much coherent. The empty glazed over look in your eyes like that night was far away. "Do you know that I killed two people in a blackout once?" You asked, your back still towards him. "Yes." Edward responded. 

Many Arkham patients had murdered. So much so that two was virtually nothing in comparison to the number that many inmates had, Edward included. "Do you remember when I first got here?" You asked. "Yes. You weren't responsive for four days. The one that got you to break your silence was Dr Vern." You were impressed although not so surprised that Edward knew so much. Of course he knew. "I couldn't believe what I had done. When they told me my father and stepmother were..." You looked over your shoulder. "They put me in here, undiagnosed as well as not knowing a motive as to why I'd ever murder my father and the one woman who had been the closest thing to a mother I had ever had." You blinked back a memory. "I don't know why they painted such a picture that those two were so wonderful. They weren't." "Reporters and the justice system love their innocents." Edward replied in disdain. "My parents weren't innocent. If the GCPD looked a little further. They'd have known the motive." You finally turned to face him. "Why?" Edward asked. "Because they deserved each other." You responded icily. "They were committing fraud, wanting the extra money and expected me to play along regardless of how nice they were to me. They began to put their problems on me, expecting me to fix them. They never thought about what that could to do their kid." You swallowed. "Every mistake they made, I was blamed. To the GCPD I was a difficult child, it wasn't that my step-mother was trying to steal multiple bottles of alcohol and convinced me to carry them in my bag. Every single time, my parents chose each other, every time it was at my expense and I never got even as much of an apology. That's what I was there for. To hide their mistakes, I was to play the problem. So I accepted that. I accepted this is what they wanted, what they deserved. It hadn't been the first black out I had but it was the most brutal. Their bodies were side by side." Your gaze met Edwards eyes. "I couldn't forgive myself when I found out what I had done. I didn't speak a word after that, not until that day after some time here. Dr Vern was the first, as you said. Look where that got him." You couldn't help but smirk. "I actually liked the guy but, I knew where his loyalties lie." Your smirk vanished, your brow creasing. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I don't know what happened that night Edward but you do and you lied to Vern, you lied to Strange and you're lying to me. You're getting your friends to do it too." "(Y/N)-" You cut Edward off. "No!" You said sharply. "I want the truth. I need it. You're going to give me the truth." 

Edward stayed silent. "Damn it, Edward!" You snapped, digging into a drawer behind you before pulling out a very large syringe. "Don't do this." Edward said lowly. His hands raising slightly to calm you. "You know something I don't!" You snapped. He thought this over. "I know many things you don't." "You know what I mean!" You yelled. "You didn't care before. Why now? What changed? Are you using me?" "No...no, I'm not." Edward said. "Then what is it!?" You cried. "Put that down and I'll tell you." Ed nodded to the syringe in your hand. You looked at the syringe before back at him as he hesitantly took a step closer. "Give me the syringe and I'll tell you." "You won't lie?" Edward shook his head. "I have no reason to." 

After a couple of seconds you dropped the syringe and it clattered to the floor. Edward immediately lunged, taking your hands and pulling you into his arms. You gasped, panic setting in. The Riddler was one of the most dangerous people in Gotham and he could kill you in a heartbeat. Although it took you a moment to realise that he was simply holding you to him, almost like an embrace. A quiet voice, almost a whimper escaped him. "They were hurting me." He began and you heard a slight quiver in his voice. "They were hurting me and you helped me. I know you don't remember that night but I do." 

Edwards plans for the night didn't include electric shock therapy. Regardless if it was Arkham's so he kicked and screamed creating a fuss along the way. The more he struggled, the more assistance was needed. He had even caused a few other patients to cry out from their cells, a minor but pestering bother for Arkham staff. 

By the time they reached the room with the chair, the guards had enough and immediately surrounded him for a beat down. Edward curled into a ball, covering his head and ribs as much as he could as doctors and nurses hurried away from the room. Typical. 

Suddenly there was a yelp that didn’t come from Edward, everyone seemed to freeze, Edward looking up to see what had happened. One of the guards were stunned, frozen in shock, staring at the other guard who looked horrified. In his neck was a syringe of what was previously a sedative for Edward. The thumb pressed down, plunge the contents into his neck. A laboured breath escaped the guard before he fell to the ground before Edward, who was slightly alarmed and wondering just how strong that sedative was, if it even was that. The hand had been yours, eyes glazed over and very still. 

Without warning, as soon as your eyes locked on the other guard, you lunged towards him. He had no time to process what had happened or even prepare himself for the attack. He fell to the ground, you on top as you ferociously beat his face with your hands. Your strength was astounding and it was the clearly why you were such a threat. You were like an deranged animal, it wasn’t enough even when he was out cold. Edward wasn’t even sure if the guard was still alive. However, you moved onto the next guard just as quickly. Perhaps you hadn't noticed him. 

He stood corrected when you halted your attack and turned your sights on him. Slowly he stood up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. You followed suit, your eyes still wide and empty. Slowly you moved forward. Edward went to move back but something blocked his path. He felt panic run through him but did his best not to show it. Something he often did with the Bat. Although you didn't lunge, as a matter of fact you were incredibly slow.

You seemed to notice his pain. Edward stiffened as you slowly wrapped your arms around him. You were so gentle he didn’t even entirely feel the hug. He looked down at you, your head resting against his chest. You were looking at the ground as though feeling guilt. In that moment, Edward took charge. ”Give me your hands.” He said quickly. He did his best to wipe the blood from your hands and onto his own as well as his arms. Edward always did have a soft spot for you. He never allowed it to show but he couldn't deny it to himself that it was there. So in the moment you had saved his life, he knew he had to protect you. No one had ever helped him yet you had, whether it was consciously or not didn't matter. If he didn't do something you'd wake up in isolation with possibly even more deaths. 

Edward knew you better than you thought, killing wasn't something you were proud of. You didn't want to add more to the list. So maybe in this way, he was protecting you just as you had protected him. Edward also noticed something that seemed to trigger your violent tendencies. It was violence itself. If you witnessed it, it seemed to drive you to be violent to the point of deadly. So he took the fall for it and eventually, they seemed to buy his story and take you back to your room. Throughout all that time, you didn't speak a word and the next morning you didn't remember a thing. Just as suspected. 

"I couldn't tell you." He said, looking into your eyes. You had never seen him so vulnerable. "I couldn't risk Strange finding out. It was better for you if everyone thought it was me." "Why? Why protect me?" You asked. "Because you protected me...such a thing is very hard to find in Gotham." "I...I killed those people." You whispered and Edward nodded. "You saved my life." He corrected.