#be-bop highschool

[pastabaguette]

toru nakama is a valid human name

[sally-the-glitch]

Be-bop Highschool

[davishater]

Ok, hear me out @a-forbidden-detective yes, I love Winter and want them for myself, BUT idol AU where Ron and Winter are in an idol competition competing for the top spot. y/n falls for Ron and Spitz falls for Winter. 👀👀👀👀👀👀

[fukateto]

They're both embarrassed 😳🩷❤️

[drcalvin]

Why am I today years old to learn that there are definite femslash vibes in Jane Eyre?

Rochester smochester, Helen Burns is her first love

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that the Kiszka twins and I were born in the same year

Then I wonder if they ever got Discmans for Christmas and had to time hitting play at the exact same time to listen to a song together

[authenticaussie]

I think the Thing that gets to me the most about people who argue against self-DX for ASD is like, at least in my experience, if you're autistic or know autistic people you can peg other people on the spectrum so damn easy? People out here arguing about the validity of their diagnosis: just find your nearest ASD friend and ask!!!! 😂 Vibes are real and the autistic-to-autistic identifier is more accurate than gaydar

[magicdustsworld]

Redemption

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: For you, freedom comes in the form of college life. However, soon you come to realize that tethering liberating steps for way too long will get you to situations you don't want to be in.

Tropes: Professor/Student, explicit smut

Warnings: profanity, age gap (Reader is in early 20s, Levi is in his early to mid 30s), drug abuse, smoking, alcoholism, implied nudity and blackmail, body shot, toxic college life, toxic friendship dynamics, college/modern AU, no mentions if y/n.

Word count: 3.6k

Event: submission for levievent under the prompt of day 10 - age differences.

A/N: after a lot of contemplation, I have decided to let it be a two-shot series. The next part will contain filthy smut, hopefully updated by tomorrow and pls excuse any mistakes on this part, my laptop broke down so I had to type it on my phone. Hope you enjoy!

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

|NEXT|

This isn't supposed to be happening.

You aren't supposed to be bend over your professor's desk, skirt raised up and have your cunt pulsating over his cock like a damn virgin.

He clicks his tongue, "Filthy brat," tightening his hold over your binded wrists as his pelvis smacks against yours in a uniform rhythm. "Don’t tell me you're cumming so soon. We haven't even started yet."

Your cheek rests on the hard mahogany desk, polished and clean as your eyes roll back from the way his cock just hits your g-spot with every thrust. The drool runs down your lips, too lust drunk to care and too traversed beyond reality to give him a verbal answer as he continues to assault your puffy folds with his shaft. Slick runs down your thighs, dripping on the floor as the room reeks with the combined juices of your arousal. He reaches down, pressing his thumb on your swollen bud and you're sent over the edge.

Shit!

How did this happen?

.

You have been caged your whole life.

Therefore, when freedom came knocking at your door, you didn't have any second thoughts from breaking free of the chains that binded you to a gilded cage. For you, freedom came in the form of college life.

If anyone from your highschool years saw you now, they wouldn't be able to recognize you with the 180 degree turn in personality, makeover and peer choices. A complete change. The most significant change could be your schedule. While you were living under the stern gaze of your parents, you had a timetable to maintain which prescribed when and how you should be present at particular places. That timetable was taken, crumbled up and thrown in the trashcan as soon as you got the gist of dormitory life. Besides, with your peers indulging in situations they shouldn't be, why should you hold back? (Like c'mon, you need to live your life as well)

Previously, you'd spend Friday nights in the confines of your bedroom while blasting your favourite playlist in your earphones and doing your homework. Now, the same music would boom but you are swaying your hips to it, bopping yourself and getting lost in the game of dance under the neon lights of the frat house. Red cups and beer pongs would escalate, which you readily partook in with the addition of forgettable one night stands. You told yourself that you liked the air of random hook ups while you were high, for it left you guessing that which brother of the fraternity you had fucked or not. While vodka and a night of reprieve was one thing, you looked forward to the coke. The very coke which once inhaled, made the euphoria burst in your system while ecstasy took over and you'd find yourself falling under the spell of intoxication.

Mind blank as a canvas and too high on serotonin levels, the fog of inebriation would cloud your eyes and you'd get lost in another midnight rhapsody. Can you blame yourself? College is meant for trying out all the pleasures of life, right? A hub for fuck boys and girls seeking validation from each other by fucking their daylights out. The minority who inclined themselves to academics were clearly missing out on all the joys life had to offer.

However, you didn't know that your favourite coke would be the reason of your downfall.

Maybe, you should have known better.

No– of course, you should have known better.

What were you thinking?

You should have stayed inside that night instead of going out to the same frat house, when you had an important physical chemistry exam the next day.

As far as you can remember, you were paired with a jock of the football team for flip cup. Although, hazed memories you noted the strawberry blond hair styled back and amber eyes. Maybe his name was John? Or Jean? Whatever, you only remember winning the game and getting your hands on the coke. Sooner than anyone had the time to comprehend, you were lining the powder on your finger edge and inhaling it generously.

Did it not raise a series of ooh's and aah's from the onlookers?

Like all the previous nights, your eyes were open wide with the crimson tint staining your sclera as you got lost in the ebullient maelstrom. Combined with the alcohol already running in your system, it didn't take long for the waves to crash ove. In this reverie you didn't realize when you were situated on the table, with grains of salt being sprinkled over your navel by your partner. He dipped his head down– mouth filled with tequila– swirling and lapping the warm muscle over your skin, feasting on the granules and you didn't even care with all your senses falling numb.

Anyone can guess what would be the outcome of attending an exam when the after effects of the powder fails to cease. With a pounding headache and being unaware of most of the answers, you can't say you were surprised to see your grade.

The capital F beside your name stares back at you from the mark list.

.

"Can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Not so," Your friend giggles, raking her fingers through her ash-blond hair. "It's only one exam, cheer up."

You bit your inner cheek, heaving a deep sigh. "This exam marks forty percect of my overall grade, Hitch. And with the way, my marks have gone down the drain, I don't think I'll even be able to pass this year."

That's an honest concern on your part because the final report would be sent to your parents as well and if they ever saw you failing one class, you don't know what hell they'll raise. Besides, the excuses of sickness and tougher lessons can only be used so far. (Plus, your heart thumped in your chest with the thought if they ever find out about this new lifestyle of yours... let's not think about it).

"You know," Hitch muses, leaning back on her Chair as she blows a strawberry bubblegum in her mouth. " You can ask for extra credit."

"Yeah sure," You don't bother to hide sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes and choosing to rest your chin on top of your palm. "There's no chance."

She raises an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"It's professor Ackerman," That almost comes out as a whine. "He is ruthless as he is, always with the poker look on his face and I can swear he won't even smile at a clown." 

A sheepish smile curls up her lips but before she can speak, you start again.

"Plus, I am already on his bad books. Do you think he'll be all unicorns and rainbows when I ask for credits?" You fold your hand over your chest, gritting your teeth as if the cause of your predicament is the man in question; he isn't but you need something to get off your vexation. "That's straight up walking in a lion's den and I am sure he will come for my head."

"Oh, girl..." She sighs, interlocking her fingers together and perching them over the tabletop. "But why would he even do that when you will give him a show?"

That catches your interest, "a show?"

"A show," She nods, the upper pair of her teeth is revealed as she smiles, waving her finger in a circular motion in the air. "Just follow my advice."

.

You have never heard an advice as bad as that.

Correction:

You have never found yourself following an advice as bad as that.

Still, you find yourself here. Outside your professor's office, gazing at the ivory sign engraved with the obsidian lettering – Levi Ackerman, while you contemplate on how much this plan can go wrong. (In your opinion, 100%).

However, you are desperate and your desperation has brought you here. So why not...?

You knock on the door. Once. Twice. Stating your name as you suck in a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Please don't let it be long.

A deep voice reverberates from inside, "State your business."

"I would... like to discuss about my grades. May I come in, sir?"

"Yes."

You breath in, the knob turns and you set a foot inside.

"Remember," Hitch says, crossing one of her leg over the another. "You gotta look desperate." The tilt of your head and parting of your lips, garners her to explain more. "The first two," She snaps her fingers to the collar of your shirt, "Unbuttoned."

"What?!" On instinct, you fold your hand over your chest, twisting your torso in the opposite direction. "Are you out of your mind?"

"You want to increase your grades or not?"

"I do but–"

"No buts," The girl shushes you with a finger over your lips. "You want to get your way through college, you follow me. Got that?"

Left with no choice, you find yourself nodding.

The clicks of your heel seems to echo in the vast expanse of his office. It's almost afternoon and the orange glow of the setting sun pours into the space marring it with the similar hues. Late classes are adjourned for the day as the marks were announced. On top of that, its Friday. Therefore, regular classes would be starting after the weekend. The campus is almosy empty except a few staff and students lurking around the corners; a perfect opportunity to follow the plan.

Your find your professor to be seated across his desk, engrossed in reading a file while a pen is nestled between his thumb and pointer. As soon as he is aware of your presence, he looks up at you.

Instead of halting, a good distance away from his desk, you are walking up to it. Letting yourself stop within a meter of his proximity.

"What do you need to discuss?"

Prompt and straight to the point—as expected.

Lips breaking into a grin, you spin a strand of your open hair around your fingers. Leaning forward–it's apparent, what you're aiming at–you speak, "I was wondering... if I could get some extra credit in your class, sir?"

"He is your professor, that's your minus," She states with a lilt of her mouth. "But you're his student, that's his minus."

Levi raises an eyebrow, "Extra credit, you say?"

"He is a man, after all. And all men are perverts, give them a show of your assets and they'll be dancing on your drums."

He continues with a twitch of his lip, "And why would I do that?" 

"Give him all the performance he needs," Her eyes darts south, she tugs on the fabric of your skirt."The shorter this is, the higher your grades will be."

"You seem to know all about their psyches." You comment, pinching your lips and smoothening the material over your knees.

That evokes a laugh,"Babe, how do you think I keep my grades up?"

By following the same advice she has given you.

In accordance to her, a face full of makeup with tits on show and the skirt raised enough to give a generous view of legs—one can make the professor's their very own puppets. So, once the same advice and opportunity is presented to you, why should you back down?

"Well," You start, plopping yourself on the chair across him, crossing your legs one over the other–hiking up your (already)shortened skirt. "I am sure we can work something out like..." arching your elbow on the table, you let your manicured fingers drum against your cheek; a seductive approach. This should work. "You don't want one of your students to be held back now, do you, sir?"

He stares at you for a solid minute. A blink of his eyes follow.

You shift in your position—offering him a rather salacious view of your cleavage. Come on. Your visage holds innocence akin to a child learning the first steps of the world.

One thing about Professor Ackerman that enthralls you is just how attarctive he could be despite his age. Probably a decade older than you but he certainly carries the enigma of a young man charmed with the maturity of someone his age. Gray eyes, dark bangs in an undercut and he just dresses so much better than all of the male peers you have encountered. And a lot better than all of your filthy hookups.

Even then, he is a man. Just look at it. The silence is stretching for a minute too long and dare you say, its almost suffocating.

While Levi's eyes are on you—something which you do want—he rather seems to be scrutinizing your behaviour than satisfy his inner perverse attitude.

Maybe he keeps this face even while jerking off.

That thought alone raises a cinch of chuckle to escape your mouth. His eyebrows furrow. At last, he speaks. "How long have you been in my class?"

Seriously? Is he so keen on continuing this game of back and forth. Shouldn't he be asking you how much grades you require by now?

"Patince is the key."

Hitch's words ring in your mind and you follow her again. "Since the start to second year?"

He crosses his arm over his chest, muscles flexing under his dress shirt as he leans back on his chair. You mark how there's a gleam in his eyes before he continues, "And how many exams have you taken until now?"

"Three? Why are you... asking that?"

"You'll know soon enough," he pauses, letting a string of tension to seep in through his body language. And as much as you don't want it to bother you, it is bothering you. "In which of those exams have you got a grade over sixty percent?"

"Um, uh sir–" You fumble over your words, raking your brain for any suitable response and while your grades is actually being discussed—a pang of exposure swirls in with the way you are dressed. "I don't remember..."

"Never."

"O-oh," Unease ripples through you, crumbling the calm veneer you are trying to maintain.

His gaze hardens, a tick of jaw and the creases on his forehead just shows he isn't in the mood for your performance. "Why?"

Only a low chuckle is released, attempting to depress the palpable tension."My bad... ah– you see, I don't have a good memory and that's why my grades are... well, you know."

"When have you ever cosulted me with the problem regarding your memory?" He cocks his head to the side, inverting the hourglass on his table. Shifting his attention back to you, he asks, "Besides, have you ever truly followed through my lesson in class? Ever tried to do your assignments by yourself?"

"Of course, I did," a clear cut lie but he doesn't have to know that. "But they are too difficult. You can't blame me, college is tough on its own and I have so many subjects to study–"

You wish to continue with your rant but the terse call of your name stops you on your tracks. His lips are curled down and he looks at you with utter disdain as if you were a bug. "If you have even paid a bit of attention in my class then you should know that I mark half of your grades by your attentiveness and student conduct. Something–" You swallow a lump in your throat, slumping your shoulders and hiding your chest from his gaze. "–you clearly lack and with the absolute shit you write on your answer sheets, you should know better than to expose your body in the name of discussion."

Blank.

You are completely blanked out.

What is there to say even?"

You chew on your lower lip, eyes flickering to anywhere but him. Clutching the mesh of your skirt in your hold. This meeting isn't unfolding like anything Hitch said about. You manage to exhale a breath, trying to hide your with your hairs, "Sir... I guess, I should take– I should leave now."

Only slightly you raise yourself from the chair, Levi speaks again, "So soon?" You sheepishly nod, giving way that this encounter wouldn't be to your favour. "We were just getting started. Besides, there's something more I need to discuss with you."

You look at him from beneath your lashes. It's funny how timid you are now. "Like what?"

"I've heard rumors of students getting their hands on question sheets by– let's say, means," He opens his drawer, pulling out a folder. "So... I played a little game with y'all. Changing the question paper, last minute was tedious- but doable." He twists his lips, picking out a A5 sized paper with contents hidden from you. He keeps his eyes on it while speaking again, "Humorously, you seem to answer only those questions perfectly which were leaked–"

"Excuse me?" You intervene, quickly. "I have no connection with this paper leak mess."

"Then how do you explain your tardiness with the paper, this time?" Steel eyes have shifted to you, "As much of a bratty student you can be, you aren't the type to completely fail unless–"

"You're just accusing me or something, I haven't done. When I say I have no connections with paper leak, I mean it."

"Then how do you explain your–"

"I don't fucking know. Just a coincidence or– whatever!"

"Coincidence? You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's not on me if you believe me or not. I have gave you my statement and you should know better than to accuse me of something just because you hate me."

"Very well, then" He tilts his head, shrugging his shoulders. "I will just have the dean rusticate you–"

"You can't do that. I didn't even know about all this."

"You want to tell me that you weren't cursing out loud while writing the paper? Don't try to lie, Zacharius told me about your indency in exam hall."

"That was because I was high on coke not— no, I–" Your eyes widen as soon as you realize your fumbling. Lips parted, you are more apprehended as the blood drains from your cheeks. "No, I- uh... I didn’t mean that, j-just a slip of tongue."

As for Levi, he merely stares back at you and... is that a smirk on his lips? It sure is. A triumphant ghost of a smirk directed at you while you began to drown in the whirlpool of despair. "At least, you remember that."

He flips both the paper to you and if your heart wasn't beating with a 10x speed before, it sure is now. Your jaw hangs open, shoulders becoming rigid and the air knocked off your lungs like you've been punches to the gut.

Pictures.

They are pictures, yes and it would have been fine of it was just that but it isn't. In the very pictures, you find yourself. One with a cigarette between your lips and from the background it is starkly evident that it's the college campus. The second is more precarious for you're clicked with some of your pals but it's shot in a way that only your face is visible while the group blows on a pot of Marijuana.

You wrestled with a deep-sated fear, eyes thoroughly scrutinizing each speck and corner of the photos—something, anything to prove that it isn't you. That it's framed, that all of it is a big misunderstanding. The dread of facing your professor overshadows all the protests stringing on your mouth; they won't even be let out if you try.

"It's a shame really," His voice echoes, the screeching of the chair is heard before he is sauntering over to the other end of the room. "I had better expectations from you."

You don't register the mocking call of your name, physically unable to. The adrenaline surges through your veins, goosebumps arising on your body with each passing second.

You need to leave. Run. Soon. Now.

You find yourself frozen in your place.

"I wonder what your parents would have to say–"

"No, sir." Instantly you crane your neck over to him, nails digging on the armrests of your chair. Your shoulders rise and fall as the hypertension settles in you. Your heart is thumping in your ears, fingers are trembling with anticipation and to add insult to the injury, darkness has started to commence. "Not my parents, please sir. Th-they– I don't know what they'll do to me. Plesse sir, j-just not that."

He leans against the door of his office, gazing at you with mere casualty, "You think you are in the position to make requests?" His irises flicks to the corner of the room. "You've made your bed. Now lie on it."

"Sir, please–" You are on the verge where you wouldn't have a second thought before begging on your knees. Something's pooling in your eyes and it stings as bad as your nails on the wooden armrests. "Anything but that. I will complete all of your assignments and I'll personally improve my grades without anyone's help. Sir, just one chance, please."

He huffs, twisting his lips as if a mirthful play is being presented to him. "Why should I believe you? Have you ever given me a reason to know you're reliable?"

"Sir, I have to try." Instantly, you stand up, marching over to him. "And– and I know I've been indecent–"

"Irresponsible and obnoxious, as well."

"Yes," It's painful but you have no other choice. "I know and I am sorry. Really sorry, just give me another chance."

He tips his head towards you, narrowing his eyes, "You think, you're redeemable?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, I am ready to do anything to prove it to you."

His eyes sparkles with something you can't decipher, "very well," He straightens up, taking a singular step towards you—only now, you're aware of how limited proximity but before you can contemplate, he speaks, "Let's start your first lesson on redemption."

[leebrontide]

I ever tell you all about my role model?

So when I was a teen we had these two black labs. Good dogs. I miss them.

And I was in highschool when we took them both to the vet for vaccinations or something. And the vet had this small tuxedo cat that lived at the office, just hanging around in the waiting area.

And both my dogs see this cat and all the fur on their backs puffs up and they start growling and showing their teeth and closing in on this little cat as my mom and I try to drag them back, panicking that our pets are gonna try to murder the vet's pet.

And the cat barely pauses their grooming to look at them calmly and bap both of them on the nose in quick succession. No claws out. Not even a swipe. Distinctly a bop or maybe even a bap. Then they went back to grooming themself.

The dogs stopped growling. They look at each other, and then at us. I have never seen a more confused dog in my life.

They quietly went back and sat down where we'd been sitting, and didn't so much as look at that cat ever again.

And like...these are 80lb dogs.

And I decided I wanted to be like that cat. Not violent, but utterly poised in the face of danger. This cat refused to acknowledge that the dogs were bigger or any particular danger. And the dogs were so baffled by this that they assumed they were not any particular danger to the cat. And so, they weren't.

And when I've told this story online, there's usually some women who get really mad at me. They say I'm endangering women, or I'm victim blaming.

I don't know what to say. I'm 40 years old and 5ft 4. I have been in multiple jobs that frequently involved standing firm in the face of large angry men with histories of assault being very very mad at me while I am isolated from backup. And only one has ever dared to take a swing at me and he was so drunk I didn't even need to lean back he missed so badly.

Is it a perfect protection from danger? No, that's dumb. Nothing is. It would be nice if there was something we could do to always stay safe but even fairy tales know better than that.

And it sure as hell seems to protect me better than trying to placate, or than panicking, or escalating or isolating.

And multiple men over a foot bigger than me have voiced that there is something innately scary and intimidating about me. Actually especially taller men seem intimidated by me. I think because I refuse to have any emotional response to their size, and it stands out as weird to them, subconsciously (many of them are perfectly lovely people who I'm not trying to intimidate at all, but who are naturally used to the way most people react to them.)

It doesn't mean I'm never scared. But being rooted in the image of that cat has really has got me through a lot of situations.

It also has for sure made some bosses hate me, when they want groveling and I don't, but I'm doing just fine anyways.

[pastabaguette]

toru nakama and hiroshi kato

if even one person here knows what bebop highschool is i can die happy

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

congrats on the 1k follower count Hype!! Here’s my ficlet request: M (“this can’t be happening… it’s just a dream..”) + 🕯️ + hurt/comfort + taking placing in the (You got me) in the palm of your hand-verse!

Thank you so much! ❤️ This was a fun, fluffy write, I hope you enjoy it. 🔮✨️

Fate don't know you (like I do)

Words: 988

Rated: T

Tags: Established relationship; No UD AU; anniversary; idiots in love; Steve Harrington is a sweetheart; Fade to black

Notes: Set in the same universe as (You got me) in the palm of your hand

Steve is just lighting the last candle when he hears the key in the apartment door. He quickly shakes out the match, then settles crossed-legged on the living room floor. 

He can hear Eddie bustling around in the hallway - his keys dropping into the bowl, the thud of his work boots coming off. It leaves him with just enough time to smooth out his costume and arrange his hair. Just enough time to look at his work and wonder if maybe he overdid it a notch. But then the doorknob turns and it’s too late for doubts.

Eddie shuffles into the room without switching on the light. His overalls are half-unzipped already, revealing a long, pale triangle of his throat and chest, the black ink of his tattoos. His hands are trying to free his dark curls from the clutches of his hair tie. He’s muttering under his breath, something about stupid, fucking alternators and stupid, fucking customers. 

He’s halfway across the room before he realizes the sofa isn’t in its usual spot. 

He pauses, one hand still in his hair, incredulous surprise creeping into his features as he takes in the room. The tablecloths and bed sheets draped over the walls. The way the furniture has been shoved into the corners to make space on the floor. The pillows scattered across the ground, and the sofa table at the center of the room, hidden under another tablecloth. The empty glass jars that have been placed on every available surface, meticulously covered in colorful parchment paper, candles glowing softly from within. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, his eyes land on Steve. 

“What the fuck?” he murmurs, eyes raking over his billowey shirt and the velvet curtain-turned-cape, the fucking leggings and the cardboard crown with the fake gems. Steve smiles and rubs at his prickling neck. 

“Um, surprise?” he says. “Happy anniversary.” 

Eddie takes a step towards him, then pauses again. His throat bops as he swallows, but his face still shows nothing but confusion. 

“What is all this?” he asks. His voice cracks around the last syllable. Steve suppresses a grin and leans back on his hands. 

“Well, I wanted to do something special, so I thought I’d recreate the scene of our first meeting.”

“We met in highschool, you dork,” Eddie snarks, but he does sink down on one of the pillows opposite Steve. His eyes continue to roam over their surroundings, large and brown and full of wonder. “Where’d you even get all this stuff?” 

“Where we fell in love, then,” Steve says impatiently. “It turned out great, didn’t it? I borrowed the sheets and the pillows and stuff from Claudia. Remember that super important family matter in Hawkins two weeks back?” 

“The one where you told me not to come.” 

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Exactly. I would have loved to have actual lanterns, too, but getting that many would’ve been way too expensive, so I had to improvise. I think they turned out okay, considering what I was working with, but if you tell me to eat another fucking PB and J sandwich for the next year or so I’ll- … hey, whoa, what’s the matter?” 

Because Eddie has finally turned and is looking at him, and his entire face is twitching with raw emotion. His hands are trembling in his lap. His eyes are still bright - too bright in the low candlelight, way too bright, and shit, shit, shit, what's going on? 

Steve is up on his knees and slipping into Eddie’s space just in time to brush the first tears away.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. He swats Steve's hands away to rub his arm over his own face, but doesn’t pull out of his embrace. “Fuck, I'm sorry.” 

“No,” Steve stammers. “No, Eddie, I am sorry. I mean, I dunno what for, exactly, but I must've done something wrong for you to-” 

“I thought you were leaving me, you stupid dickhead,” Eddie blurts. 

Steve's words wheeze to a stop. 

“What?” he says when his brain finally manages to reboot itself. “I mean how- … Why would you even think that?” 

Eddie rolls his pretty eyes at him, but there's a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Oh, gee, Stevie, why would I think that? You've been acting all secretive, going back to Hawkins and refusing to tell me what you're doing there, locking yourself in the bedroom for hours, hiding bags full of bed linen in your car-” 

“Aw, what, you saw those?” 

“You're not as subtle as you think, big boy.” 

Eddie winks at him and leans in for a peck on the lips, but when he pulls away, his face is serious again. 

“And also because …” he mutters, pulling a strand of hair from his ponytail to twist it between his fingers. “I dunno. Sometimes, I still look at you and I think … this isn't happening. It's all in my head. It's just a dream. Because there’s now way, is there? No way I’ve scored the prettiest, sweetest, most romantic doofus in that shitty little hellhole for a boyfriend. No way that you’re here with me, that you’d ever want me like this.”

“What?” Steve hums, splaying a firm hand over the base of Eddie’s neck to draw him closer. “You mean like this?” 

He only allows them to break the kiss when they’re both flushed and gasping for air. Eddie’s eyes are still bright when he looks at him, but this time, it’s the good kind of bright. 

“Can’t believe you thought that,” Steve murmurs, pulling the zipper of Eddie’s overalls further down with one deft hand. “You honestly didn’t see this coming?” 

Eddie huffs a laugh against his lips. “For the millionth time, honey: Not actually psychic.” 

“Well, good,” Steve smiles, slipping the overall off Eddie’s shoulders and pushing him down onto the cushioned floor. “That means you also don’t know what else I have planned for tonight.”

More celebration ficlets

[0120moebius]

cheering up your older brothers after they got their asses whooped by the invincible mikey, bancho of sakura high in shibuya

inspired by screenshots from the movie Be-bop Highschool ~

i’m afraid there won’t be a day where i draw clean line art and care about cleaning up mistakes..

[llicorice]

WHAT A SITUATION YOURE IN RIGHT NOW

There was a gas leak at my school and they made us go outside and then back inside and im fucking nauseous and my mom won't pick me up I might actually be cooked

A GAS LEAK???? i dont have any suggestions for that one but i hope u feel better soon :(

[collectivecloseness]

1) hey. You know i love you, right? & 45) how can someone as perfect as you, like someone like me? For Steve/reader please. With Steve then reader saying it

Prompts: 1) hey. You know i love you, right? & 45) how can someone as perfect as you, like someone like me?

(Notes: anon i got your follow up requesting alluring to the reader having depression as well, so tw for depression mention)

Steve Harrington x reader

You stood quietly on the sidewalk, swinging back and forth with your feet on the edge of the curb, as your boyfriend said bye to a group of his highschool friends. Specifically, a few guys he was on the basketball team with, and their girlfriends, who’d all bumped into Steve as he closed up family video, with his arm around your waist, ready to take you back to his for an evening of ‘borrowed’ movies and good popcorn.

But then his old teammates ran into him, all on their way to some club that didn’t care if people were one or two years south of being allowed to enter, and Steve had been swooped up into a conversation with them. You didn’t mind it, and he still kept his hands warmly around your waist the entire time. Until you’d given him a small smile, and politely stepped away in the middle of the conversation, so he wouldn’t ask. Until the girls started drooling over Steve Harrington again.

Apart from one of the couples who’d been dating since Sophomore, you’d never seen any of the girls with these particular guys before, in fact you were certain two of them had swapped boys, so it didn’t surprise you they were absolutely fine batting their eyes at Steve. Who by all accounts, even if he’d lost his king status, was still highly wanted.

Steve soon wrapped up bro hugging his former teammates, and as they all cheered goodbye to him, maybe a pre party or two in, Steve wrapped his arm over your shoulders, and finished their rallying cry for Hawkins High back between cupped hands, apologising quickly to you, still with a grin on his face as you flinched away from his loud cheer in your ears. Only smiling a little up at him for that though. That you could smile playfully about. The thoughts in your head were more damaging.

“Okay! Shall we get moving?” Steve clapped his hands together, grabbing his keys back from his pocket and swirling them around his fingers, as you both walked to his car.

Inside you turned the radio up, before you’d even done your seatbelt. To which Steve just smiled at you, singing lowly along to the lyrics he knew, and a few he was definitely misunderstanding, as he mindlessly bopped his hands on his steering wheel.

You were glad for the distraction. At least it meant you didn’t have to talk. You saw those girls, a few of whom rumours had spread Steve had dated before, well known, popular, dazzling, all dressed up, make up and hair amazing, bright smiles glimmering at Stevie. And you saw how animated he got when his old clique came rolling up, how pumped he was to be hanging out with them like it was old times, even if it was only for ten minutes.

Like Robin, who occasionally snarked Steve over this fact, he hadn’t really noticed you in his high school days.

It wasn’t anything malicious, and it wasn’t like you were invisible either. You just didn’t really connect until Steve started working at family video, which was fine! You hadn’t paid Steve more attention than a regular classmate, and than understanding his status as king, either. And then with Vecna, you two became even closer.

But it still sometimes worried you. A cold, sludgy feeling creeping from your stomach, up through your chest and throat like bile, that you weren’t good enough for Steve. And that, horribly, one day, he’d know it too. Which is why, even though Steve knew about your depression, and had glimpses into your self-doubts, you hadn’t exactly told him this point blank. For fear as soon as you said the words, he’d take a step back, and see it for the first time clearly himself.

Steve quickly pulled up to his home, and you two got out of the car together. Steve quickly making his way to your side, humming the rest of the Madonna song lost with the cars engine, as he placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you up his pathway. You loved how often he touched you, even at simple times, Steve always liked to be touching you.

Steve turning his head to you now however, made you try to fight back a grimace, because you could tell what was going through his head.

“Hey. You’ve been pretty quiet the entire ride.” Steve lightly begun, his hand sliding further along your back as he walked you to your front door.

“Really? Sorry. Hadn’t noticed.” You quickly covered up, melting just a little when Steve breathed out a laugh through his nose, and you could feel his lips smiling as he kissed your head. “Don’t need to apologise. Just saying.”

You squeezed his waist with your own hand holding onto him for a few seconds, unceremoniously dropping simply as Steve had got the door open. Holding it for you as you came in, double locking the door with the bolt he’d put in after his first experience with the upside down, before kicking his shoes off in tandem with you, throwing his vest onto the coat rack.

Steve sighed loudly, wiping his hands over his face, before stopping in front of you. Pressing both hands to your waist as he leaned over and pecked a few kisses to the centre of your head. “Mmh. Food now?” He asked, to which you only nodded. Loving Steve’s loving gestures, but also feeling bad in yourself about him holding your waist

He soon let go, looking like he wanted nothing more than to collapse into the couch, which you did yourself, but walking over to the wall his phone was on, and scouring through the neat pile of take out menus. “I’m thinking pizza, we can get it from the place you like this time. Sound good babe?” He smiled over at you, batting the menu against his hand and the leather of his watch.

You didn’t jump up with the fact that Steve always bitched about ordering pizza from his much preferred restaurant usually, and you didn’t turn around with a smile, you didn’t even say yes. You just threw a thumbs up behind your back, and your eyes scoured for the tv remote without moving your body. Fuck this would seem more natural if you just switched on the tv right then. But maybe Steve wouldn’t notice.

Big no.

Steve dropped the menu and walked over to you, sitting down on the sofa cushion closest to you, and tried to snatch your eyesight.

You just couldn’t do it.

“Hey? Is everything okay hun?”

“Mmhm.”

Fuck. You were doing a shitty job. But you couldn’t help it. You felt grey. Like just your whole body was grey. And cold. And disgusting. As much as you desperately wanted to act like everything was normal, you just didn’t have it in you. You couldn’t even look at Steve, and you didn’t even really know why! God everything felt awful right now, just because some of Steve’s old friends had to remind you all of the reasons you thought you didn’t deserve Steve. Not that they were buried deep anyway. You always thought it was true. And God Steve was leaning closer to look at you and you just wanted the earth to swallow you whole right now so you could avoid this!

“I love you.”

That was all Steve said. And while the spike through your heart this time was a nice one, rather than a jagged painful one, it still felt wrong. Like Steve saying that was just wrong. Not that you didn’t believe him, you knew he was a true guy. But it made you feel worse, even less capable of looking at him. No matter how hopeful and genuine his tone was then.

You just turned your head away, your body inching in on itself, the sofa shuffling in the quiet of the room. And oh, if you could have seen yourself, you knew that would set alarm bells off in Steve, it would in anyone. And you didn’t see Steve’s face dropping.

“Hey. You know I love you, right?” Steve was concerned, confused. He shuffled closer to you, knees on top of your curled up thighs, his warm hand hovering over the space between where your back was arched away from him, and the sofa, before deciding to place it there. Angling his head as much as possible to try and get you to look at him, with his eyebrows scrunched sadly, and his deep brown eyes troubled.

You didn’t turn back at him, you didn’t even look at him. Steve could just hear you breathing louder now, breaths flowing from your mouth.

“Baby you know I love you?”

Steve was worried. He tried to smooth his face just a little, wanting to be the strong one for you, but letting his concern for you prevail clearly, even if you weren’t looking at him now. He half wanted to grasp your chin and tilt you to look at him, his hand certainly brushed against your cheek enough for his movements to flutter there. But instead Steve changed course, easily jumping from his seat on the sofa, and landing right in front of your feet. Resting his hands on your knee, head level with yours, and always bobbing, following you, just a bit under you, silently pleading for you to look at him. He had half a mind to jump onto the end of the sofa in front of you and squeeze in with you, if he didn’t worry about crowding you and making things worse. Steve just wanted you to talk to him.

And he got what he wanted. His pink lips dropping wider as you finally turned your head to him, and he saw your watery eyes. His hand immediately shot to your cheek again, his thumb rubbing your apple as you cried, his face miserable as he watched you sniffle, desperate to be close to you, to fix this.

“But... why?”

Your head felt too full, too fuzzy with unnerving thoughts to really untangle this web. You just wish someone could do it all for you. Without wanting to put that pressure on Steve. You kept your face in his hand, but you didn’t move far into it. But now your eyes couldn’t move off of Steve’s, and you found it a similar problem. Because you couldn’t stand to see how sad you were making him.

“Why what baby?” Steve asked caring, rubbing your cheek with one hand, always shifting on his legs, and periodically squeezing your hand with his other.

“How- how can someone as perfect as you, like someone like me?” You forlorned.

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, a little glossy themselves now, and he grasped your hand tighter, his thumb quickly wiping away any tears that fell. “Hey y/n how could you think that? I love you. You know that. Why would you think that sweetheart?”

“Because I s-saw your friends. I saw how well those girls look after themselves, how liked they are, and I know the girls you used to date back in highschool-“

“Baby that was highschool.” Steve interrupted, but you just squeezed his hand back.

“I don’t... I don’t...” you were scared to say it. You didn’t want him to think it, you didn’t want to shatter the illusion, you didn’t want Steve to see you that way, you didn’t want Steve to think of you like that, you couldn’t have Steve look at you like that!

“Don’t what y/n?”

Fuck it. Your heart was beating too fast. “I don’t look like them! I don’t look like someone you’d date, I don’t act like people as cool as your friends, I’m not as cool as them, I’m not as cool as you! I’m not anything. I’m not anything compared to all that. I just... you could do so much better, and I’m so so scared that you’ll realise that and leave me and I’m sorry for keeping you away when you deserve better but I love you and I don’t want to-“

A large sob overtook you, and your eyes widened for a second as you realised everything you’d just said in the second your body forced you to breathe. And you collapsed your face into your knees, your hands covering your face, as you sobbed into your legs. Distraught with what you’d just said.

The whole time Steve rubbed your back. Shushing you, but you couldn’t hear it. Not over your own sobs. You dreaded to see his face, to see him thinking over what you just said. And when you eventually had to look up, Steve was going to see your face at arguably its worst. Heated, eyes red, blotchy, swollen, hair a mess, nose runny. You didn’t want to look up, you didn’t want to face Steve, you couldn’t lose him.

Even if sometimes it felt like you were selfish for keeping him. Because you were so sure he could do better than you.

Steve kept holding your hand, the one hiding the side of your face, but the one he hadn’t let go of the whole time. And he kept it as he moved, no longer in front of you. Something you were aware of, so much it subconsciously stifled your cries a little, because you were trying to listen to where Steve was moving, too afraid to look up. But then you felt him right by your side again. And before you knew it, Steve was moving you over onto his lap, without any resistance from you, and you cried as your face was placed against his chest. A fresh wave of sobs overtaking you as Steve cradled you to his chest, his strong arms scooping you up comfortably onto his lap, as he held you. Rocking you. Gently, warmly, lovingly. You didn’t even hide your face with your hands, you didn’t have to.

You just cried into Steve’s chest, able to smell him from your nostril that wasn’t blocked, and able to feel him all around you. Able to relax because his chin was tucked into your hair, so at least one of your fears was quashed, he couldn’t look at you like that. Your sobs quiet, but hiccuping into Steve, letting your boyfriend hold you, and letting him comfort you.

“Baby...”

This was it. Your sobs stopped in your throat like sick, silent as you waited to hear what he had to say in that careful tone.

“...you know I know you’re beautiful right?”

A steady breath left you. Just looking up at him. His face upset, but warm. His hand lovingly stroking over your face, getting those hair strands away from your sticky cheeks, his other hand soothing on your back.

“You know I can tell how gorgeous you are. I see it everyday.”

You slowly tried to hide in Steve’s chest, but his hand warmly spread from your cheek across your neck, and it made you roll it in how good it felt, head lolling flatly onto Steve’s chest. Smushed, you were sure, but way too comfortable for you to move. Especially when your wet eyes and heated form made you feel so sleepy. Especially when Steve made you feel safe enough to doze on.

You sniffled, uncaring and not self conscious about it, as you snuggled into Steve’s torso, because he had such a way of holding you so comfortably. “You’re just saying that.”

“Uhhh no.” Steve responded, in an almost bitchy voice, which usually got you to laugh when he was like that. Instead, you just looked up at him with eyes that looked so big, glossy under him like this.

“Babe, you’re a hottie. Do I not say that enough? Dustin makes vomiting faces at me all the time when you’re not looking when I say it.”

Okay he got a giggle out of you there. Your heart still thumped though, uncertainty making it’s home in your brain as it always did. Luckily Steve Harrington was an expert at speeches.

“You’re a smoke show. Suuuuper charismatic. You are the quintessential apple of my eye.” He kissed your head, then again because he couldn’t resist, and he saw your hand reaching up, lightly playing with the shirt gripped to his chest.

“I mean, you remember that night I didn’t want to take you to Robin’s party because I swore someone was going to steal you away, and then you suggested I wear something as hot as you were so that way you didn’t stand out.”

A small giggle slipped past your lips. And Steve’s fingers waggled slightly into your waist, making you dodge away and quickly grab his hand, although not caring that he was touching your waist anymore. You just brought his hand back up to between his chest and yours, and played with it. Listening to Steve as you just looked at his hand, watching his fingers go as you toyed with them.

“I’m still terrified of someone scooping you up. Away from me.”

Now you looked up at Steve. Your cheek was pressed into his chest, and even though he was smiling at you, his eyes were flickering down like yours had been earlier. A hint of hurt betrayed in them. “You know.... you know I- I struggle with my own self doubts too. You help me with them all the time.”

Steve only had to lift his stolen hand, to be able to kiss the knuckles on all of yours. His eyes flickering to you with some playfulness, but soul still there. “And I’d be a bit of a shitty boyfriend if I didn’t know your own personal demons too, since you help me with mine all the time. And I know you know it’s brave to do so, and I hope you’d know that I’d never be upset with you for having them, like I’d leave you or something. Because I’m not gonna magically think it’s true just because you say something that’s frankly absurd about yourself.”

You just looked at Steve awed. Your heart still, your whole body and mind at ease. The storm was over, and you were just enamoured with Steve. Just taking in everything he had to say, as he held you. Tears dry and itchy at your eyes, only to be pushed away like Steve had magically known of it the second you felt the discomfort. He never let you feel even the slightest of that.

“And considering how I’ve seen you fight literal demons, I’m sure you look just as hot battling mental trauma than with blood splatter and sweat all over you.”

You laughed loudly this time. Feeling proud in yourself that you got Steve to smile again too, laughing along with you. As his hands cupped your face, feeling your laughter in your cheeks, and swatting away any loose strands of hair, watching you laugh like you were the most beautiful sight in the world.

Yeah. You leaned your head against Steve, looking up at him with nothing but love in your eyes, and seeing it reflected right back at you, before having your face brought up for a kiss. You’d get through this with him. It had to be easier than actual demons, after all.