#but she had nancy! and she got there in the end

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Girl and Her Boys

Platonic Stobin + Eddie || wc: 2.3k || rating: G || tags: platonic love, platonic fic, platonic stobie (steddin?), tooth-rotting fluff, humor || Robin's worried the boys have some shenanigans planned for her Spring Band Concert... and she's right

~~~

If Eddie Munson had just watched Steve’s basketball game like a normal person, instead of a nonconformist lunatic, everything would’ve been just fine. Robin really should’ve known better, shouldn’t have been surprised when he showed up carrying a giant sign with Steve’s name and player number on it that read ‘best ball shooter’ with a little devil on it. 

Whenever Steve had the ball, Eddie screamed louder than the most obnoxious dads. At some point, the man pulled a damn kazoo out of his pocket along with those stupid, plastic hand clappers to celebrate Steve’s first three-pointer. 

Everyone was staring, the boys on the bench turning to sneer at him. She could feel the people around them slowly scooching away and her face burned with embarrassment. Finally, after two rounds of the Star Spangled Banner via kazoo, she turned to beg him to sit down only to then catch Steve wave out of the corner of her eye. 

She could see the blush across his face, not from exertion, but from a smile so wide that it glistened in his eyes. Eddie waved, face on fire. Robin gave him a scathing side eye when he’d turned to her and said “What, I just wanted him to notice me,” with a mischievous glint to his smile.

Robin had assumed Steve would be the bigger person and move on. He never said anything after the game, only smiling ear to ear like a puppy dog after doing a particularly impressive trick. However, she greatly underestimated her soulmate’s ability to be an absolute shit head.

Which is how a typically casual Friday night at the Hideout for Eddie’s gig turned out to be exceptionally uncasual and supremely atypical. 

She was clad in head-to-toe pastels. Nancy hadn’t agreed to come to the show, but she allowed Robin to rummage through her closet, fully on board with her and Steve’s shenanigans. Robin had picked out a pair of white heels, lavender stockings, a frilly, pink dress, and– her piece de resistance– a white cowboy hat. 

Steve’s outfit was made up of his own clothes, just taken to new heights. He wore not one, but two polo shirts, the white collar underneath popped up over his pale pink polo on the outside. His acid washed jeans looked tighter than normal, and he’d paired them with shiny, white, Adidas high-tops. Robin had laughed as she dug through his glove box on the ride over, pulling out her favorite electric blue sunglasses for him to wear. They tied the entire outfit together.

Steve had suggested making signs, “In case he can’t hear us when he’s on stage,” and definitely not as payback. All in all, they were pretty impressive. Each one dripped glitter over the sticky bar floor, although the pink puff-paint held together nicely. Robin was particularly proud of her own sign, ‘rock and roll is for sinners and winners’. She was, however, surprised when she read Steve’s ‘I’ve got the devil in me’ sign. They’d made a bit of a spectacle of themselves, waving them high above their heads as they screamed along to the few lyrics they actually knew.

The band razzed Eddie about it, but none of it mattered in the long run. Robin remembers the embarrassed flush scrawled across Eddie’s face when he caught sight of them. He’d strutted across the stage, trying to move as far from them as possible. Much like the small crowd of confused regulars creating a wide, empty space around them. In the end, Eddie always came back, smile wide and genuine and full of love.

So here Robin sits, stewing with anxiety while trying to think of what they’ve got planned now that it’s her turn. She fiddles with the trumpet in her lap as she waits for the Spring Band and Orchestra Concert to start. Her black slacks from last year are uncomfortably tight around her hips, and the white blouse her mom picked out keeps snagging on the back of the too small plastic chair she’s perched on. The garbled mess of voices ringing through the gymnasium matches the zinging swarm of bees in her stomach.

She frantically scans the crowd in front of her, but doesn’t spot them anywhere. Robin’s parents and grandparents are going to be here and she knows the boys will have something obnoxious planned. They’ve been suspiciously nonchalant all week, almost sickeningly nice.

But when the freshman band starts playing, she still can’t find them, surprised they’re not sitting up front. She tries to look around but can’t find them in the crowd. Disappointed, she starts to wonder if they actually forgot. Robin did her best to bring up the concert as little as possible, not wanting to give them time to plan anything extravagant. She wonders now if that was a mistake.

When it’s finally time for the upperclassmen’s turn, she’s forced to give up her search. She plays her melodies, counts her bars, and tries to forget about how her boys aren’t here, knowing there must be a hell of a reason to miss it. 

The brass section dwindles down to the woodwinds. The notes fade out completely, leaving a one beat pause before the flutes are supposed to take off in a frenzy. Robin hates playing songs like this. It feels like a cheap trick, some kind of gimmick her music teacher comes up with to see if he can pull one over on unsuspecting families who think the song has finished. 

It works, like it always does. Soft, scattered applause breaks out in the crowd. Her teacher’s smug smile is wiped from his face as loud, obnoxious clapping echoes off the gymnasium walls. The kids are failing to contain faint giggles and snorts of laughter. Even though this happens almost every year, it’s definitely never this damn dramatic.

Robin sits up just a little bit higher to peek over the winds section and, sure enough, in the dead center of the crowd, there’s a head of frizzy, curly hair standing tall and proud. Aside from the outburst, Robin’s actually impressed Eddie managed to dress up a bit. He’s wearing what has to be one of Steve’s navy button down shirts along with his nicest pair of black skinny jeans, sans rips and holes.

Apparently being in a band doesn’t translate to understanding when a song is actually over. He glances around, red bursting over his cheeks as everyone stares back at him. Robin has to stand slightly to catch a glimpse of Steve sitting next to him. Her best friend is slowly sinking down into his chair in a fruitless attempt to hide. He’s wearing a light blue button up, most likely with his beige slacks. Steve’s flush is somehow an even brighter shade of red than Eddie’s. He’s hiding an awkward laugh behind his fist, and Robin can’t help but smile wide and unguarded at the mirth shining in his eyes. 

These two absolute idiots.

Eddie opens his mouth, but thankfully whatever he’s about to say is cut short by Steve grabbing a hold of his shirt sleeve and yanking him back down into his seat. Robin manages to catch Steve’s eye, and he breaks out into a stupid, adorable puppy-dog grin. He does his signature little finger wave. She snorts, matching his gesture.

Eddie leans in front of Steve’s face to look at her between rows of heads and waves manically back and forth. Robin’s fully laughing now as she waves back. There’s an elbow in her side and before she can snarl at the guy next to her, he nods towards where the conductor stands glaring at her, hands hanging in the air waiting to continue the piece. 

The flutes start up, but it’s still a few bars before her first note. So of course her eyes stray to the clarinets. Vickie’s already looking at her, smiling small but genuine. Beautiful and divine. Vickie rolls her eyes fondly and Robin only replies with a half-hearted shrug. 

The boys manage to make it through the rest of the concert without causing another scene. The conductor prompts the band to rise for a bow, and polite applause breaks out throughout the crowd once more. That’s when she hears it– hell, everyone in the school probably hears it. 

Eddie and Steve wolf whistle at the same time. It’s followed by an eruption of plastic clapper applause and shouts of ‘Go, Buck!’ and ‘Hell yeah that’s my Birdie!’ Robin can’t contain the bubbles of happiness bursting in her chest, leaving her light as air. 

She looks out and sees Steve holding another homemade sign covered in glitter that reads ‘Buckley blows the best horn’. Just as Eddie explodes a confetti popper– what Robin assumes is the first of many he has stashed in his pockets– the principal appears out of thin air to scruff them both by the neck and drag them out into the hallway. She can’t read his lips from this far away, but she can see Eddie yapping away, completely unbothered. 

Fuck, Robin truly loves these boys. Her goons, her dinguses, her schmucks.

The band leaves through the side door, heading straight to the music room to store their instruments before meeting their loved ones in the cafeteria. 

“Hey,” Vickie says, out of breath from jogging to catch up, “you did a really good job.” Robin doesn’t think Vickie could specifically pick her out from the rest of trumpets–at least hopefully not– but she takes the compliment anyway. 

“Thanks,” she shouts, a little too excited. And in typical Robin fashion, has zero follow up comments. So they walk down the hall together in silence, students around them buzzing with excitement. 

Vickie clears her throat, and bumps her shoulder against Robin’s. “It’s really nice your boyfriend came to watch you play.” Vickie sighs, deflating, “Wish mine had, anyways.” 

Robin doesn’t even process Vickie’s second statement before screeching, “I’m not dating Eddie Munson! We’re just friends.” 

“Oh,” Vickie smiles, emerald eyes wide and beautiful at Robin’s little outburst, “I guess I meant Steve Harrington. Everyone knows you’re dating. And, I mean, I see you two together in the morning sometimes– not that I’m stalking you or anything,” but her adorable stumbling doesn’t matter in the face of Robin’s blatant disgust. 

“Ugh gross absolutely not, he’s like my brother. My dingus, my very platonic soulmate. Like a long-lost twin separated at birth kind of thing, but also way more annoying.” 

“Oh good,” Vickie answers. Her eyes grow large, mouth falling open in shock as she stutters, “I’m sorry, I mean… It's not good. But it’s not, not good. You know?” 

Robin actually doesn’t know, so she just smiles, bumping shoulders again because the spot where their shoulders touched before is still tingling and she wants more. Vickie relaxes next to her. They’re quiet after that, but it’s a good quiet, filled with stolen glances and hidden smiles. It’s not until they’re both headed back towards the cafeteria when Robin finally realizes what Vickie said. 

“I’m sorry your boyfriend couldn’t make it,” Robin placates, hopefully drawing up enough of a fake smile to make it seem real. She does feel bad for Vickie, but she’s not sad about it. 

Vickie pulls her lips between her teeth into a thin, angry line. She groans in annoyance, and it’s the most Robin’s ever seen her complain, almost always a bubbly ray of sunshine. It reminds her of when Steve gets bitchy, and she love it. “He could’ve made it if he actually wanted to be here,” she huffs. “Apparently going to a party with his friends is a better way to spend his Saturday night.” 

Robin’s eyebrows are raised when Vickie turns to look at her, causing her to scoff out a laugh. “I know, I shouldn’t complain,” Vickie says, obviously not meaning a single word, “but the person you’re dating is supposed to watch your crappy, high school band concert, right?” 

Person. 

Vickie didn’t say boyfriend, she said ‘person’ you’re dating. It probably doesn’t mean anything… definitely, for sure doesn’t. It still doesn’t stop Robin from blushing like one of the hundreds of women Steve hits on every day at work. Fuck, she’s no better than one of Harrington’s bimbos. 

“They should definitely be here.” Robin smiles at her sympathetically, and Vickie thanks her before they walk into the noisy cafeteria. “I’ll see you Monday?” Vickie asks, heading off to visit her family. Robin nods, feeling the dark blush blossom on her cheeks as Vickie smiles, eyes shining with delight.

Robin finally spots her own family, and it’s standard procedure. Congratulations from her parents, telling her ‘Nice job’ and ‘You all sounded so good’ but it’s the comment from her grandmother, whispered in her ear in a tight hug, which catches her off guard.

“Your boy’s waiting for you,” she nods over Robin’s shoulder. She turns to find Steve grinning his dopey I love you smile at her. It’s her favorite, something special just for her. Lost in her soulmate’s gaze, her grandma gives Robin a soft elbow to the stomach to grab her attention. “I think you found yourself a good one.”

And honestly, Robin can’t find it in herself to spout her usual arguments of ‘he’s not my boy,’ because Steve is hers. He’ll always be hers just like she’ll always be his. They still love each other, still plan to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s just not the kind of love most people expect. 

It’s a kind of love that’s theirs, and theirs alone. 

Well, and Eddie’s too, of course.

Robin smiles back at her grandmother, a wet sheen to her eyes. “Yeah, I really did, didn’t I?”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Ballerina B-Roll in a New Studio!

First, this is a janky video and I am no director. It's just b-roll because I was kinda desperate to show off the Ballet mod animations during skilling. Hopefully this adds a little something to tomorrow's Sims in Bloom episode (9AM PST), which takes place at the SanMy Ballet School's old studio, not this lot (but what's happening in this lil' teaser, and why there's a deco sim cameraman in the corner, is explained in tomorrow's installment featuring ballerinas!) Also there will be only stills, no janky vids. That's a promise!

This promo and tomorrow's post were made entirely possible thanks to collaboration with @changingplumbob (who had originally collaborated with @paracosmic-sims, @simmerbeans and @bloomingkyras to create these sims!)

Many of you may recognize this trio from her Struck By Love legacy - the incredible Sierra Prairies, Natasha Lobo, and Elyse Rockwell will be crossing over, in the pixels, to Sims In Bloom! And yes, they will come face-to-face with the most powerful member of the SanMy Ballet Company's board of directors - Nancy Landgraab herself, and a classroom full of little ballerinas!

More ballet stills and a lot tour after the cut...

(I wasn't smart enough to equip the room with music before rolling video, but with sound on you can hear Nancy sounding impressed by the new digs in the background.)

The fresh looking studio is by @oimygiblets! His Barre Raized lot on the Sims 4 Gallery (userID CTstephen) is absolutely beautiful. It's a small spa with a yoga studio, small gym, lockers, showers, men's and women's toilets, an indoor hot spring, and a ballet studio. Legitimately gorgeous lot, functional, and the girls all enjoy it!

We'll end this with Natasha, who skills so hard. When she was ready to pee and fall over from exhaustion, she kept going (Elyse got fatigued first so she got to be the model for the lot tour, mostly). AND! This screenshot is a mod animation, not a pose. 😍 This ambitious ballerina and her friends will see you tomorrow in Sims In Bloom!

In order to film this in peace, I made it residential and added a mini fridge so they wouldn't start to die, added the ballet barre and combination spots from the mod, but everything else is exactly as downloaded from the Gallery! WCIF details here:

[liesonmytongues]

Virgin!Steve Harrison x GN!Reader

Synopsis- Steve's been pretending to be a top notch player for years, but the truth is, he's still a virgin. You change that.

Warnings/CWs- this is very wholesome smut, lovey dovey sex, virginity loss, dub-con if you absolutely *squint*, love sick/pussy drunk men, Steve being embarrassed and guilty about jorking it to you, descriptions of masturbation

Word count- 4,000

When he was back in Hawkins, Steve had a reputation. Full of himself. A player. Always a girl on his hip– whether or not she was his girlfriend– always bragging about his game, about his sex life.

He would tell his friends about every escapade involving a new hot chick– basing his stories off of people he saw outside. A hot blonde at the mall would turn into a ‘Filthy slut who couldn't stop begging for it’, an innocent looking brunette outside the church into ‘a crazy bitch who wanted it rough’.

Steve would try not to get too serious with girls at the school for obvious reasons– couldn’t have anyone exposing him as a liar, now could he? But every so often someone would catch his eye. It was shameful– dangerous really –the way he would get these girls head over heels for him, manipulate them in one way or another so they wouldn’t ask about what Steve really didn’t want to think about.

It was a little different with Nancy– he really did like her, much more than those other girls who were just to keep up appearances. He didn’t want to manipulate her, didn’t want to treat her like she was just another chick in the crowd– so Steve came up with a different solution. One that still didn’t include actually having sex with her. He couldn't talk the talk without the chance of someone telling her, so his stories turned more into something like ‘I can't say, Nancy’s too shy– it was a crazy night though’, and the couple of times anyone questioned him, he would intimidate them into dropping it– easy enough.

But it didn't change the fact that Steve Harrington is a virgin.

For one reason or another, he never actually got around to getting his dick wet– and, in juxtaposition to his personality, it was usually because he just…kept chickening out. He would fantasize about it– stroking himself raw with some cheap toy while he tried to imagine the feeling of a real hole– but that was where it ended for him. Sad nights alone while he got off to his next story– and for a while that was fine! For a while Steve didn't need anything other than the life he had– sports and drinking and pretty girls, that satisfied him enough without hitting third base.

Then when Eleven and the monsters showed up, he didn't have time for sex– no time for fantasizing, or jealousy, or nervousness –just surviving. And babysitting a group of kids.

Everything he’d been saying– doing –the inadequacy he felt, was completely pushed to the back of his mind for the better part of 2 years. The first time it quieted down, after they saved that poor kid and things almost seemed like they were gonna go back to normal, Steve considered trying to…regress. He wanted to feel like nothing had even happened– he wanted that control back –didn’t want to admit that everything had changed for good. It hurt to know that even if things were ok now, it would never, ever be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. That’s what consumed him until the next time the demogorgons showed up– and that, plus the constant wondering of what the fuck else was in the world made it a little hard to get it up.

Steve tried once– kissing her, rubbing her clit through her panties, fingering her while he tried, tried so hard, to just make his stupid dick cooperate– and then he realized how stupid that was. He had this beautiful, half naked, moaning girl under him– this girl he was sure he loved –and he still couldn’t push himself past his nerves for long enough to fuck her.

Nancy tried 3 more times– all ending in Steve shakily, nervously, using his hands or mouth to make her cum while he was stuck in his own head. They broke up a few weeks after the last try, and he didn’t get any more chances before that…thing took them both.

Steve's first thought was that it was another creature made by the lab– that's where he found it, that's what it had to be, right? Some other failed, murderous experiment or alternate dimensional nightmare that he had to take the brunt of, just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At first, that theory seemed right– the place they were taken looked just like the upside down’s version of Hawkins lab, with the same distant screaming from a demogorgon –but being shucked right off to ‘The camp’ was a good way to change his mind. There were other people there– too many for any type of hell Steve’s ever been to –and it seemed like they were ready to see him and Nance, a tall, scrawny guy greeting them with too much energy and too much understanding.

And the rest is history, right? For one reason or another, the thing known as the ‘entity’ wanted them there, along with a bunch of other ‘survivors’ and the things that have been torturing them for god knows how long.

You…make it a little more bearable. A little.

You welcomed Steve and Nancy better than a lot of the other survivors– and part of it was definitely to learn how to survive the demogorgon, you’d be stupid to pass up that opportunity –making sure they knew what was going to happen with much less frantic, frightened energy than Dwight. You were a godsend really, and Steve feels like he owes you his life– no matter how many times he’s died here.

You were just friends– that's all. Forget about the way his heart and stomach feel like they’re sinking in on themselves every time he sees you, or the way he looks forward to the end of trials because that means more time to spend together, or how everything you say seems to be funny, or smart, or mind melting– all of that is just because you're a really good friend, and this place is messing with Steve's ability to see that.

Plus, spending every day around the ex who was your first love is a surefire way to confuse your brain. That's the rational Steve gave on the nights spent trying not to jerk himself off to something you did that day; the nights where he failed miserably, stuffing his hand on his mouth to muffle the pathetic sounds he made every time he came, and one was never enough; the nights Steve felt disgusting for what he considered violating you, sticky with his own cum and still not able to get you out of his head.

No, you’re just friends. And sometimes, when friends are in bad situations, it gets a little confusing. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, can’t make you look at him at a gross freak, can’t ruin your relationship– but it can make you suspicious.

Suspicious because Steve was acting weird, and he hadn’t even realized it– hadn’t realized that he hadn’t made eye contact with you in weeks. Honestly, he was pretty confident that his sneaking–away skills were honed to perfection– it’d worked on the demogorgons, who would have thought that it wouldn’t work on a person? Nevermind the fact that demogorgons don’t actually have eyes to see him with.

Your breaking point came around the same time every single trial with Steve started ending in a sacrifice.

You’d tried talking to him about it, and when that didn’t work, you tried talking to Nancy. From what you’d gathered, she’d been pretty good at mystery solving in Hawkins, and since she knew Steve so well, it seemed like your best bet…but you got nothing. No hint at anything that could have happened, nothing shared when you weren’t around about why he was so awkward all of a sudden, not so much as a complaint– leaving you to do everything yourself.

No way in hell were you going to confront him with all the other survivors around, that would just lead to even more awkwardness, and you couldn’t handle that– not with everything else –but you did need to confront him. You couldn’t work together, your entire relationship was strained, and if you couldn’t find some sort of way to resolve this…tension, you were going to explode and make this whole issue even worse.

But maybe in hindsight, sneaking up on him in his cabin wasn't the best idea either. In your defense, you had no idea about his hopeless pining, and with your annoyance clouding your better judgment, it seemed like the only way to finally get him talking. And really, that had been your plan! The whole walk there you’d been thinking of just the right words to get across exactly what you wanted to say– stay calm, tell him how you feel, tell him what needed to change. It was your plan, until the moment you knocked on the door – and heard Steve moan your name at the same time.

It took a second to process what you heard, to be pulled –punched, really– out of the concentration and anger that had fueled this whole trip and really hear it for what it was, but by then there was a whole other reason you were distracted. Steve slammed open the door, flushed and sweaty, panting like a whore and looking at you with the widest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You– It’s not–! It’s not what it looks like!” Steve stumbled over his words in an attempt to get them out as fast as possible, to convince you somehow that you hadn’t heard what you just heard– convince you not to turn around and leave and never speak to him again.

“Please, please, I’m so sorry– I promise I can explain! I–”

“Inside.”

“What–”

“Inside.”

If someone asked you, it would be hard to tell them why you did what you did– shoving Steve Harrington inside his cabin was a split second decision, kissing him was another, dropping everything you’d wanted to say was a third. Maybe it was because you were so tense– it’s not easy to live like this, god knows there’s not much time for sex of all things –the rush of emotions, the shock, maybe it was because he just looked so debauched with his face red and his lips parted the way they were. Fuck, maybe it’s just because he finally looked at you again.

It didn’t really matter what it was though, did it? Not when he moaned like that, like he was starving for you, as soon as your hands were on him.

He hadn’t gotten to finish, that much was clear from how his cock was pressed twitching to your thigh– leaking a sticky patch of precum where he’d haphazardly shoved himself back into his jeans before opening the door.

“Wait– wait!” Steve pushed you back by the hips, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in deep, sharp breaths. Even if he hadn’t said anything, it was obvious how hesitant it was.

“What–” You mirrored his confusion from earlier,

“I’ve never…done this before.” He gestured vaguely downwards, and when you followed the movements to his groin, his cock visibly throbbed.

“You’ve…never had sex? You’re a virgin?” And with that he’s right back to not looking at you– flushed even brighter than before and staring down the floorboards like they did this, like they made him hard, made you find him moaning your name, made you come inside and made him admit what he didn’t even admit to Nancy. But he feels…better. His erection has flagged a little just from the shame of the situation, but it’s not like before– when the second someone tried to have sex with him, he stopped being able to get it up at all.

“Yeah.” He breathed, loosening the grip on your waist– as if being a virgin of all things would mean you wouldn’t want him.

“Is that…all?”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I’ve only ever used my mouth, I don’t know if I’m gonna be any good…” The skin of his neck was shiny with perspiration, a droplet of sweat dripping down his jaw and fucking christ you want to lick it off–

“No? I don't care how much experience you have Steve–fuck, don't you know what you do to me?” His eyes flicked down to your groin and you could feel the shudder that passed through him–hear it too, if that quivering, breathy sigh was anything to go off. You were caught off guard when Steve suddenly yanked you forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoving his face into the crook of your neck–taking deep breaths, inhaling your scent while he tried to ground himself.

Less caught off guard when he pulled you in for another kiss, mashing your lips and noses together in a type of desperation that can only come from a man who's been hard for the last hour– tongue worming it's way between your lips, only pulling away long enough to breathe hot puffs of air against your face.

You didn’t protest when he pulled you back towards his bed, or when you felt him turn you around, your calves hitting the mattress only a few moment before the rest of you, falling into the old raggedy blankets and grunting when Steve climbs on top of you–because he just refuses to let go of your body for even a second, grinding his cock to your thigh in slow strokes while he tries his hardest to devour you.

“Fuck– you mean it?” He shifts to kissing your jaw–just as rough as your lips–so you can respond, murmuring variations of your name and ‘please’ and ‘say it’.

“Yeah, I mean it.” It comes out breathy and desperate, but god, there’s not a single world where you could bring yourself to care with such a pretty man looking equally as debauched above you. He gets a panicked look on his face barely a second before his hands shoot down to his jeans, ripping them open with enough force to audibly pop a thread, pulling his boxers down and gripping his cock painfully. You have half a mind to ask him what he’s doing–what was that look for? Is something wrong? Is he already done with the foreplay?–but only get about as far as parting your lips before Steve makes a pained noise, halfway between a moan and a sob, and is cumming over the front of your shirt. Thick strands accompanied by choked groans as he tries to make it stop, frantically muttering ‘no!’ under his breath again and again.

You shouldn’t be surprised–you aren’t surprised, not really–but it’s still sudden enough to make your eyes bulge a little more with every spurt. Which, of course, Steve notices immediately– flushing with shame instead of arousal and covering his eyes with the back of his free hand.

“Jesus– fuck! I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what happened–” He’s spiraling is what you distantly realize, but you’re too caught up with the fact that he just came from being told you were into him. So caught up, in fact, that the only way you can think to really calm him down is smashing his face back into yours. You have his hair between your fingers before he can utter another distraught apology, and he’s right back to melting into you.

You don’t stop him when Steve’s hands move to your pants, taking them off with much less frenzy than his own. His cock had barely softened, and when your underwear was down far enough that he finally caught a glimpse of your body, it gave a hard twitch–already raring to go a second time. God knows if it’s because it’s you or just the situation, but you can hope.

Steve looks back and forth between your hole and your stained shirt for a moment, before with two fingers, he scoops his own cum off your shirt, pressing them inside your hole achingly slowly–like he’s scared that giving them to you how you want will break you. He seems mesmerized by the way each knuckle sinks deeper, spreading you open on his fingers while his spend pushes back–oozing out before he shoves it back in again.

“Fuck– you’re so tight, so warm…” The way he's looking at you is near–reverent, huffing out a breath every time you squeeze and practically moaning when he can’t go any deeper.

“Don’t you wanna feel that–hah–around your cock? Give your body what it wants?” You were panting as much as Steve at this point, sighing and moaning softly every time he found just the right spot to focus on.

“Don't say that kind of thing!” He whined, breaking eye contact for a second so he could lean over and open his mouth, letting some spit dribble onto your hole to aid the way while his fingers sped up–trying to spread you open faster so his poor, angry looking cock could get some relief. Real relief–not just cumming in his pants like a…y'know, like a virgin.

Still bent over, Steve used his free arm to cage you underneath him–forcing your legs up and around his waist at the same time so he could keep up the rhythm. You could feel your body starting to ease open, just barely loose enough for him to put in a third finger and spread them inside you. It felt fantastic, but you could almost be fooled into thinking that he was the one feeling it–almost as noisy from just the sensation of your walls around his thick, rough fingers.

It wasn’t quite enough to make you cum, not without any other stimulation, but his enthusiasm turned you on like nothing else. He gave a few more thrusts, fingers spread out as much as possible in a last ditch attempt to prep you before he lost it.

“I’m sorry- I need it, you have no idea-”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, just put it in, please.” A mix of Steve’s pre and cum and spit eased the way as he gripped his cock at the base and finally started pushing it forward–squeezing tight to try and keep himself from coming any faster than he already would. He only managed to get the tip inside before he had to pause, shutting his eyes with a desperate, shuddering moan–nuzzling his face into your chest while his free hand glided away from its death-grip on the sheets, opting instead for holding your head, threading your hair over his palm until he had enough to tug.

You could feel his fat, leaky cockhead throb–the vibration of another moan spreading through your chest before his hips jerked enough to force another couple of inches inside you. And it hurt, it did, that same string and stretch that always came with having something new inside you, but he was just so perfect that you couldn’t focus on it. You’d noticed before how pretty he was below the belt–and it really showed now.

God, maybe you really have just gone that long without getting laid, but Steve’s dick filled you better than you can ever remember being filled. Better than your fingers, better than any toy for the sheer amount of emotion and connection, better than the vague snippets of your last fucks from years ago now.

Steve pulled himself off of your chest after a minute, taking deep breaths and scrunching up his face in concentration–then another minute before he manages to let go of his shaft and push the rest of the way inside. The moan he gives you is borderline pornographic when he bottoms out, hot enough to–along with the feeling of his stomach pressing against your groin–have you moaning with him.

His thrusts have no real rhythm, no actual skill, just the sloppiness that shows exactly how inexperienced he really is–and equally how desperate he is for you. There’s no rhyme or reason to how he chases the feeling, but somehow he still manages to tease your orgasm–to rut his sensitive cock in all the right places to make it feel good instead of annoying.

“I’m not gonna- hah, oh god- not gonna last. Christ you feel so good- you’re so perfect, you’re perfect- I love you.” Your attention was immediately snapped away from his hips up to his face, where he was staring at you with those big brown eyes–again the puppy analogy comes to mind–and the most of an emotion besides fear you’ve seen in a long time.

“Can I- ngh -cum on your stomach? Please?” It's hard to tell if he even realizes that he just said he loves you, and he's not giving you any time to process it with the way his thrusts are speeding up–just barely able to keep his cock from slipping out through his frantic movements. And it was so lewd, so wet and slick and loud–blocking out everything else except the moaning right in front of your face.

Steve was putting everything into making you feel good–fighting back his orgasm while whispering harsh ‘please, please, please’ under his breath, along with a slurred approximation of your name and those frankly beautiful, desperate hitches of breath. Your body fought to accommodate the way he sped up, battering your walls in a way that juxtaposed his confession a minute ago.

“Yes, yes cum on me, cum on me baby- fuck-” You barely managed to finish your sentence before Steve was pulling out, curling his body over you and trembling while his cock throbbed against your stomach–followed by another moan that could only be described as burning, aching, and the first shot of hot, sticky fluid on your skin, cumming so hard it managed to reach your collar, sticking to his own chest in the process and dripping down onto the sheets. His noises didn’t stop for nearly a full minute, whimpering and whining while you murmured sweet words, trying to ease him down from his high.

That’s all you expected from him–as sweet as he could be, he’s still a man from the 80’s–which is why you were surprised when he didn’t just slump over and leave you to deal with the painful way your arousal licked at your stomach, begging for relief.

You weren’t sure what to think of the way Steve climbed down the bed–until he latched his mouth to your groin, sucking and licking and taking you into his mouth, as much as he could fit at once. It took him a second, but he turned his eyes up to you, lidded and high from endorphins, giving him a lovesick, fucked out look that only served to turn you on more. And the way he kept moaning, groaning and scrunching his face up like he was the one feeling it–like you were the one fucking him with your mouth, desperate to make him cum.

And it was desperate–not a thought inside his head, only driven by the feral need to make you feel as good as he did. How could you ever not comply?

It barely took another minute of the sloppy, needy working of his tongue before you were cumming too, and Steve lapped up everything, like everything you were giving him was a gift that he needed to take, refusing to let even a drop go to waste. Distantly, in the middle of feeling like your vision was going to white out, you could feel another few drops leak out of his twitching cock, milking himself dry just from the taste of you.

He wrapped his arms around your thigh when you pried his head away, resting his face on your hip so he could keep pressing soft kisses to your skin. It was pretty obvious he wasn’t in his right mind–tired and euphoric and fucked stupid–but you let him stay, wiping his messy hair away from his forehead and petting at his nape.

“Was it…good?” He murmured, glancing up at you again.

“Christ, do you really have to ask?” He kept looking at you, blinking slowly–waiting. “Yeah. It was really good.” And he nods, sighing against your skin–then a choking sound when you followed it up with ‘I love you too’.

[ronancecats]

ok you got me super curious. why don't you like steve?

This is gonna be a long one, so unbuckle your seatbelts, slam on the brakes, and do a front flip out of the windshield.

I'm going to break it down by season because that will help me get all my points down, and I don't want to leave anything out. Also, a little disclaimer: I do like Steve's writing, and I appreciate the way he's developed and the role he plays, but with that being said, I still don't like him as a character.

I'm going to try and explain each reason the best I can, but I low-key suck at that so I'm sorry if anything seems confusing.

SEASON 1:

season 1 is the season that is most self-explanatory of why I don't like him, I don't think anyone genuinely likes him in season 1.

-He literally slut shamed Nancy. Like...I don't care if he was only a teenager/had bad friends. He would've been 17 and old ENOUGH to understand the consequences of that and that it would hurt Nancy...that's why he did it in the first place.

-he was awful to Jonathan, and I'm not necessarily talking about the breaking camera thing, I'm talking about what he said to him before the fight. He called him queer (a slur back in the 80's), insulted his family, and insinuated that he had something to do with his little brother's disappearance.

-He pressured Nancy into sex. NO, HE DID NOT SA HER. It was consensual, but with that being said, something can still be consensual and enjoyed while having pressure on top of that. Also, he didn't stop Carol when she was mocking Nancy and making her uncomfortable; he was smug about it. But yes, I understand he was just a teenager then.

-He just, in general, didn't respect her boundaries at all and made Barb's disappearance about himself AT FIRST.

SEASON 2:

-He left Nancy, black out drunk, at a party. Yes, he was heartbroken, but he left her there and she was really lucky that Jonathan was there.

There's not much else in season 2 honestly. Mostly my feelings about him in s2 come from the first couple episodes when all he wanted was to make Nancy forget about her guilt and leaving her at the party. But yeah, I don't care about him in s2.

SEASON 3:

There's nothing necessarily bad about him in s3. I just hate how they made him this big character but then pushed Jonathan to the side, but that has nothing to do with his character. That's just a personal pet peeve I have with the duffers.

S3 was definitely his best season and the only one I can say I liked him in. They let him focus on his platonic relationships instead of making him chase after Nancy the whole time, and I like that. If they kept him like this for s4, I probably wouldn't dislike him as much as I do, but they just had to make him go back to that and it ruined him for me. Hopefully in s5 they'll let him be like his s3 self again.

SEASON 4:

-the six nugget speech. OH MY GOD BROTHER EUGH. I could make a whole essay about this, but long story short, it was completely unhinged and just shows he only wants Nancy for his dream, and he doesn't really care about her dreams in a romantic sense. He's in love with the idea of her, not her.

In conclusion, I only like Steve when they don't make his entire character revolve around Stancy and that dead relationship. Let Stancy die, I BEG OF YOU. It's better for Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and literally everyone who watched the damn show without rose-colored glasses for Steve.

If they just let the love triangle die in s2, I can almost guarantee that I would like Steve more. But alas, they didn't and kept it around as if we don't already know how it's going to end.

Anyway, I probably went into way more detail than you wanted me to, but oh well. I wanted to be honest.

[guardian-angle22]

911: Lone Star | Tommy Vega S2E10 -> S5E7

[astrobei]

byler 22 for the touch prompts??

22 for touch prompts: falling asleep on the other's shoulder (+ bonus mini soundtrack that i listened to on repeat while writing this)

“Remind me again,” Mike says, as Will climbs into the passenger side of the car, “why we have to go to this thing today?”

Will gives him a look. Or his best attempt at a look anyway. He’s ninety percent sure they fall too flat to ever be effective, or Mike would have stopped saying stupid shit years ago. “This thing?” He struggles with the seatbelt for a moment before it finally clicks into place. “You mean your sister’s wedding? To my brother?”

Mike pulls a face. “If you want to get into the semantics,” he mumbles, adjusting the rearview mirror, and Will laughs.

“You’re ridiculous. It’s their wedding, Mike.”

“Rude to get married on a Saturday night,” Mike says, as if every wedding in the history of the world ever hasn’t taken place on a Saturday night. “Maybe some of us had things to do.”

“Yeah? What did you have going on?” Will asks, smoothing down the lapel of his suit. This jacket is a lint magnet like nothing he’s ever seen before, and he plucks a little piece of it away. “Hot date?”

Mike wiggles his eyebrows, and Will realizes immediately that this was the wrong thing to say. “Yeah,” Mike chirps, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You.”

Despite himself, Will feels his cheeks turn red. It’s stupid, because he quite literally handed Mike the opportunity to say this on a silver platter, and it’s more dumb than any sort of flirtatious, except the unfortunate truth of dating Mike Wheeler is that he doesn’t even have to try and actually flirt to get Will blushing like a teenage girl. “I had that coming,” he admits, and Mike grins even harder than before. “And we didn’t have a date tonight.”

“We did! We were going to–”

“We can order pizza and watch TV when we get back, Mike,” Will chides, and, when Mike’s lower lip turns downward in something reminiscent of a pout, “this is Nancy’s wedding.”

“I was never Nancy’s favorite sibling,” Mike says noncommittally, releasing the parking brake, “she won’t even notice if I’m not there,” which one, is not true because Mike makes up about a third of Nancy’s bridal party so she will most definitely notice if he goes AWOL. And second, this is also not true because Will knows that Holly is currently in the throes of teenage angst, and Mike is still working on the angst but he’s moved on from the teenager part, at least, which is definitely earning him some points in Nancy’s book. So at worst, he’s tied with Holly. At least for the next couple of years.

And Will knows he’s not being serious anyway. For all of the fuss he’s kicking up, he knows Mike is happy for them. Will checks the backseat to make sure he put the presents in the car earlier that afternoon, and says, laughing, “Cold feet? It’s not even your wedding, Mike.”

“I know,” Mike moans, falling forward until his forehead hits the top of the steering wheel. “And it’s exciting! I’m happy for them! And your brother too, and I know your mom and Hop are so pumped, and– it’s just that I’m not so pumped about spending the evening with my family.”

Will suddenly feels very, very stupid. Jesus, he hadn’t even thought about that– about Mike’s parents being there, and his nana, the one that his mom had totally guilted Nancy into inviting because she might not live long enough to see Mike and Holly get married, Nancy, just let her have this. Which was kind of a depressing enough thought on its own, Will thinks, even without the entire conversation that had followed, the one he’d overheard Mike have on the phone in the living room, loud and frustrated before he’d slammed the phone down on the receiver hard enough for Will to hear it from their bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, then rests a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to them, okay, Mike? Just– hang out with us instead. I know Dustin’s been dying to break out his new dance moves.”

Mike cracks a tentative smile, then turns his face slightly so that one side of it is illuminated by the glow of the street lamps outside. “I’m scared he’s going to get driven away in a stretcher,” Mike admits, and Will grins. 

“Yeah, probably. It’ll be a good distraction, at least. I’ll tell him to take one for the team.”

Mike nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Will hesitates, then drops his hand to Mike’s and slots their fingers together. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Look at me.”

Mike looks up the rest of the way. He looks incredible tonight, which is something Will’s been thinking ever since they’d started getting ready an hour ago, and at least half of the reason it took him so long was because he’d been totally distracted the whole time. Maybe Will is just biased, which is a little true, sure, but Mike should definitely wear suits more– and he’s officially taking it upon himself to make sure that Mike wears suits more– because suddenly he’s tempted to take Mike up on his offer of becoming a runaway best man and going back inside and collapsing on the couch and kissing him stupid into the early hours of the morning.

“What?” Mike is saying, eyebrows twisting a little self-consciously. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“You just look really nice,” Will says simply, and then, because that comes nowhere close to how good Mike looks in a tie, “no, actually, you look– wow.”

Mike’s lips twitch, but he looks a little pleased. “Wow? Really?”

“You’ve rendered me speechless,” Will nods rapidly, and Mike’s shy smile breaks into something more genuine. “You– look at you, I mean– I can’t even– wow.”

“Will,” Mike says, drawing out the single syllable until it feels big enough to fill up the whole car. “Okay, I look nice! You can stop playing it up now.” 

His cheeks are turning red, slowly, visible even in the dim lighting of the street lamps through the windows, because it’s early fall and it’s started to get dark ridiculously early in the day. It feels like a victory, getting Mike flustered, even after a year of dating. Will smiles to himself. 

“I’m not,” Will says, then leans in across the console. “Come here. I’ll prove it.”

“You’ll–” Mike gets out, eyes going wide in surprise, “–has anyone ever told you that you’re–”

Whatever it was that people may or may not have told Will is apparently a mystery that will die with the universe, because Will never finds out. He kisses Mike with one hand still holding his, threads a hand through his hair and cups his jaw. Soft. Slow. Unhurried, even though they should have left ten minutes ago and they’re going to be cutting it real close– Will can’t be bothered to rush.

Mike hums low in the back of his throat, pleased, and shifts closer. He’s pushing himself up over the console, a hand ghosting the side of Will’s neck, when–

Beeeeep.

“What–” Will jerks backwards, startled, and Mike immediately lets go of his hand. “Did you just–”

Mike rubs his elbow and moves further away from the wheel. “I got a little distracted,” he laughs, but the tension has ebbed from his shoulders a little and his eyes are creasing up at the corners, so Will considers this a mission success, thank you. “We should probably go?”

“Good idea,” Will says, then reaches over to smooth out a stray tuft of Mike’s hair that was– he thinks, a little proud of himself– definitely not out of place before. “And hey,” he adds, before Mike can take the car out of park. “Seriously. Ignore your parents. It’s not their wedding, okay, it’s Nancy’s. And Jonathan’s. And they both want us there. Together.”

Mike’s lips press together into a thin, determined line. “You’re right,” he nods, “I know, it’s just–”

“I know,” Will echoes, and Mike shoots him a grateful smile. “Now let’s go, or we really will miss the ceremony.”

—-

They don’t miss the ceremony, which is good, because having both the best man and the– whatever Mike was– would probably not be a good look for anyone involved.

“I can’t believe you cried,” Dustin says, after the toasts are done and the speeches are given and everyone’s been supplied with enough champagne to go a little loose and maybe a little tear-happy.

Mike scowls across the table at him. “I didn’t cry,” he insists, which is kind of pointless because Will had been watching him the whole time he’d been standing up there, shuffling his feet awkwardly in place at his designated spot in between Holly and Robin Buckley, and he’d definitely cried. Just a little, but he had.

“You did,” El chimes in primly, plucking at her shrimp cocktail. “I saw.”

“Thanks, El,” Mike mutters, sinking back in his chair a little and crossing his arms. “It’s– the vows were very emotional, okay, you’d have to be made of total stone to not tear up!”

“I didn’t cry,” Lucas announces, which is a fucking lie, by the way. Will saw him dabbing at his eyes in the bathroom on the way here.

“I think it’s sweet,” he says, instead of throwing Lucas to the dogs like he maybe should have. He flashes Mike a grin, leans over in his chair to bridge the space between them and squeezes his hand, once. “They were very sappy vows, to be fair.”

Mike blinks up at him from where he’s slumped down to somewhere around shoulder height. “You didn’t cry.”

“Oh, I did,” Will assures him. “I just cried in the back with Jonathan while he was getting ready.”

“Really?” Mike perks right up. “You did?”

“Yes,” Will laughs, “and I can’t believe you’re happy about it,” and then Mike grins so wide that Will can’t help but lean in the rest of the way and press a quick kiss to Mike’s cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Lucas says, and he’s maybe one strike away from Will speaking up about the bathroom incident after all.

“Maybe so,” Mike relents, looking properly cheered up now. “What about it?”

Mike’s grip on Will’s hand never falters. Will feels himself turn warmer with every slow pass of Mike’s thumb over his knuckles, even with their hands tucked under the tablecloth and out of view. And it isn’t from the champagne. He’s had just the one glass with dinner, which is nothing, so it must be something else that’s making him feel like this. Something–

“You okay?” Mike murmurs as his thumb pauses, briefly, on the back of Will’s hand. “You got kind of quiet out of nowhere,” and yeah, there it is.

“I meant it,” Will says, lowering his voice so their friends can’t hear them from across the table. “What I said in the car, I mean. You look beautiful.”

It’s a little amusing just how fast Mike can turn such a violent shade of red. “You can’t just say that,” he splutters. “Give a guy some warning, Jesus, Will–”

“Mm, no,” Will decides smugly, watching the red creep down the collar of Mike’s carefully starched dress shirt. Then, because the soft lighting of the venue and the way Mike’s hair has started to fall free around his face is doing something funny to his chest and stomach, Will nods to the dance floor and says, “You wanna?”

Mike hesitates, looking over his shoulder. “Dance?”

Will shrugs, then looks over to where Jonathan and Nancy are trying– and failing, quite hilariously and miserably– at a dance of their own. “I mean, it’s a wedding, and people dance at weddings. Not that either of us are good at it, but it might be fun to try?”

Mike chews nervously at his lower lip and nudges Will’s foot with his own. “I don’t know,” he admits. “My mom was eyeing me earlier and I was totally avoiding her by hiding out over here but I feel like the dance floor is fair game for a–” he waves his hands around, “pseudo-confrontation. Nancy’s only three years older than you, blah, blah. When are you going to settle down, blah, blah. Even though I’m here with my boyfriend, which apparently doesn’t count for shit, and–” Mike sighs dejectedly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down, it’s just– I was having such a good day, too.”

Will squeezes Mike’s leg, just above the knee. “You were having a good day? Really? Even though your hot date got canceled?”

“Well,” Mike rolls his eyes. “My sister got married, and now my hot date is all dressed up and sweet-talking me, so I think this is even better than pizza on the couch.” He pauses, contemplating. “Actually, scratch that. It’s not. But it’s a close second,” Mike adds, then grins and picks Will’s hand up again. “Dance– later, maybe? I’m really enjoying this for right now.”

“Of course. Anything you want,” Will smiles, as the music in the background softens into something more mellow. He pulls his chair up so that it’s flush with Mike’s, their thighs pressed up together in one line, and passes Mike a flute of champagne from the table. “You might want to drink this, though, because your mom looks like she might be heading over here any second.”

“Thanks,” Mike groans, then knocks the whole thing back in one go.

—-

Will knows that a big fancy flashy wedding isn’t really Jonathan’s style, and he didn’t think it was Nancy’s either. Which is why he was surprised to get an invite to an event at all, because he’d honestly sort of thought they’d make a courthouse affair of it and then have everyone over for dinner or something. They’d been engaged for, like, three years, because it was career stuff and then more career stuff and then a couple months of long distance while Jonathan was doing some photojournalism thing in London, and Will had figured at some point that they’d get so tired of being engaged that they’d show up the next day with papers from City Hall and that would be that.

Apparently, though, in a not-so-surprising turn of events, Nancy Wheeler takes to event planning like a moth to flame, and Jonathan was immediately dragged along for the ride. He didn’t seem too upset about it, though, when Will had asked. “It’s Nancy,” he shrugged, like that explained everything. And maybe it did, because not too long after that, Will started dating Mike and everything immediately clicked.

Which is maybe the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him. For anyone else, Will would not even entertain the thought of fussing over seating arrangements, and he’s certain he only knows, like, five types of flowers– if pink and red roses count as two different types. It’s Nancy, Jonathan had said, and Will hadn’t gotten it then but he does now.

Mike’s hand twitches on Will’s bicep, fingers clutching once at the fabric of his shirt. Will’s suit jacket lies abandoned on the chair behind them. Mike had leaned over maybe half an hour ago to rest his head on Will’s shoulder, as it got later in the night and guests started slowly trickling out of the room. And then, maybe fifteen or so minutes ago, his breathing had evened out, fingers slackening in their grip against his arm, and Will doesn’t know how the hell Mike can fall asleep in a room that’s filled with so much noise, but he can’t help but find it endearing– wholly, completely, embarrassingly endearing.

And he gets it, he does. It’s Mike, he thinks, chest flooding with warmth in a strange, hollowed-out way, like there’s nothing left inside him except this feeling. It’s Mike. It’s Mike. It’s–

“Hey, hon,” comes a voice behind him, and Will startles, just a little, then immediately relaxes.

“Oh, hey mom,” he whispers, and Mike’s hand twitches lightly against his arm again. Joyce gives him an amused look, glancing down at Mike, then back at Will.

“Did he fall asleep?” she asks, pulling up a chair next to them. “I’ll be quiet, don’t worry.”

Will feels himself smile before he actually realizes he’s doing it. “Yeah,” he snorts softly, “but I have no idea how.”

As if roused by some sixth sense, like he knew they were talking about him, Mike stirs, lifting his head off of Will’s shoulder and blinking blearily. “What–”

“Shh,” Will says, and Joyce bites back a smile. “Go back to sleep.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Mike says, and then yawns loud and conspicuously. “Shit– I’ve just been so tired this week, sorry, Will–”

“Don’t be,” he says immediately, even though his shoulder and arm are starting to fall asleep, just a little. Will drops a kiss to the top of Mike’s head, and feels him start to smile into his shoulder before stiffening, a little self-consciously, and glancing up at Joyce.

“Um–”

“Oh,” his mom waves a hand, “don’t mind me. You two are so sweet. You remind me of Nancy and Jonathan after they started dating. Jonathan would turn so red, but maybe not as red as you’re turning right now, Will–”

“Mom!”

“Red?” Mike perks up, and then, “Oh you are turning red!”

“Shut up,” Will mumbles, but he’s sure it’s not convincing in the slightest. “Did you come over here just to embarrass me?”

Joyce puts two hands up in the air like hey, don’t look at me. “I was just going to let you know that Hop and I are taking off,” she says, eyes sparkling. “He has the early shift tomorrow, but Mike, now that I’ve caught you– your speech was wonderful. Really. Jim was tearing up and he told me to never let you find out but I figured you’d want to know.”

Mike blinks. He still looks a little out of it, still a little red from sleep or the champagne from earlier, but he smiles, sudden and pleased. “Really?”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Joyce grins conspiratorially. “But yes. It was very sweet.”

“Thanks Mrs. Byers,” Mike says, the words stretching into another yawn, quieter this time. He groans lightly, then pushes himself off of Will’s shoulder and sits back up.

Will peers over at him. “Are you tired? You want to head back?”

Mike rubs at his eyes with both hands, blinks a few times in rapid succession, then shakes his head like he’s trying to shake the sleep out of his body, like it’s a physical thing. “No,” he smiles, and it’s a little bit tired, but he looks happy. “No, not yet.”

“Okay,” Will whispers, and he’s probably grinning like an idiot, but he can’t help it. That’s the common denominator here, between every interaction he ever has with Mike– that he’s so happy that he just can’t help it. “You still want to get pizza on the way back?”

“God, yes please,” Mike groans in relief. “Um. No offense, but wedding food is just– like what the hell, man, I’m starving. That was nothing.”

“Pizza it is,” Will agreed easily, mentally making a pros and cons list of getting a large and having leftovers or saving money and going for a medium. “Pepperoni?”

“Anything goes,” Mike is saying, and then Joyce clears her throat.

“Well,” she says, snapping her purse shut and smiling. “Hop and I are heading out but– oh, drive safe you two. Eat a slice for me, actually, I’ve been craving pizza all week.”

“Bye, mom,” Will smiles, craning his neck upwards as she plants a kiss on top of his head.

“You too,” she says to Mike, who barely has time to blink in surprise before his mom is dropping a kiss on his forehead. She rests a hand on his shoulder briefly as she smiles and says, “I’d welcome you to the family, Mike, but you’ve been a part of it for years already.”

“I– bye, Mrs. Byers,” Mike says faintly, eyes wide, as Joyce waves goodbye. He turns back to Will. “Part of the family? Really?”

“It’s what you get for dating your best friend,” Will murmurs, glancing out over the rapidly emptying room before tugging on Mike’s arm until he falls into him with a small, startled noise. “You get smothered by my mom.”

“I wouldn’t call it smothering,” Mike laughs, eyes darting down to Will’s mouth. He swallows, and says, softly, “Plus, I like your family. No complaints from me.”

Will hums, soft. “I’m sorry about– you know. How did that go?”

“Nancy said she survived mom and dad with minimal damage,” Mike laughs drily. “And nana too. And I managed to avoid them long enough that they didn’t have a chance to ambush me, so.”

“Good,” Will says, kissing Mike softly on the corner of his mouth, then again, right over the curve of his cupid’s bow. He’s a little warm, a little loose and pliant from sleep, and he moves easily, tucking a finger into the loop of Will’s tie and pulling him in closer. Their knees bump against each other under the tablecloth, chair legs scraping gently across the polished floor as Will leans forward. “I’m glad,” Will says into the kiss, and Mike smiles.

“Me too,” Mike whispers, tucking his hands into Will’s hair and pulling away, just barely. “Because now they’re gone and all of our annoying cursory invite relatives are gone and it’s just you and me– and Nancy, and Jonathan, and El and Lucas and– whatever. I think I owe you a dance.”

There’s something slow and melodic playing as Nancy and Jonathan make the last of their rounds, most of the tables empty and the dance floor cleared out. Will grins, kisses Mike one more time for good measure, then stands up. “Okay,” he agrees, “but I’m leading.”

“I don’t think it makes a difference, because neither of us can–”

“I’m leading,” Will says again, and Mike chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sure. Lead the way, Will.”

[messrsbyler]

listen… prissy student karen who hates the idea of settling for the type of life her parents have at the end of a cul de sac but who is too afraid to step out of line totally has a crush on rebellious smoke-in-between-periods and doesn’t-take-shit-from-teachers joyce byers.

[just-spacetrash]

🕵️

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

Next

[allyricas]

imagine if eddie never got caught up in the upside down stuff in season 4. all the same people are still vecna'd, but chrissy never sought out eddie for drugs at school that day so he is oblivious to everything going on.

maybe he spends spring break playing music with the guys and getting drunk in the back of his van.

or, better yet, he's not even in town at all. he and the other members of corroded coffin are in indy for battle of the bands.

in fact, he literally has no clue what happened until he sees the news about the earthquake and he rushes back to make sure uncle wayne is alright. he's freaking out because when he calls his trailer numerous times, no one answers. he tries calling the plant to look for his uncle and they say he didn't show up to work.

chrissy was too intimidated to seek him out at school even in the privacy of the woods, so instead later that evening she goes to the trailer to look for him. she still gets vecna'd and the trailer becomes a gate.

eddie is never a suspect since he has a verifiable alibi. wayne still finds chrissy's body the next morning and still helps by telling nancy about henry creel. he can tell the teens are about to do something reckless and dangerous so he gets involved and ends up in the upside down instead of eddie.

he turns out to be very handy with various weapons and has a mind for battle strategy thus the party having a much better plan.

they win this time. steve gets really hurt, like nearly dies. wayne is the one who carries him out of the upside down and helps make sure he doesn't bleed out. they form a bond and wayne refuses to leave his side at the lab.

which is why eddie can't get ahold of him.

imagine eddie rushing back into hawkins only to eventually find out chrissy cunningham died on the porch of his trailer and that no one's heard from his uncle in days. he finds out from dustin that his uncle is at the hospital standing vigil over steve harrington's bedside, of all freaking people.

wayne looks pretty roughed up, but he's safe and he's okay. eddie is so relieved to see him with his own eyes that the reality of everything doesn't really sink in.

after everything is settled, the government compensates wayne with a new home. everything could have been a lot worse were he not involved and the earthquake split the trailer in two.

it's nothing fancy, just a three bedroom home on a nice plot of land. it's cosy and there's room for a fire pit in the backyard, maybe even a garden and a chicken coop. wayne manages to make anywhere feel like home, but this place has a certain charm.

once steve is well enough to go home, wayne all but insists that steve comes home with him and eddie. wayne tells steve he has a permanent home with him, that they're family. for once in his life, steve let's himself be loved and taken care of by an adult. wayne is everything his parents could never be.

wayne's heard all about steve's parents, noted that they never showed up to see their son and wayne doesn't want steve rotting alone in his big house. wayne always had a habit of picking up strays after all.

the problem with the situation is, of course, that eddie doesn't like steve. in fact, he absolutely cannot stand him and does not understand why his uncle is suddenly so close with him.

he steadfastly believes in his munson doctrine and has no plans to reevaluate. steve is a douchebag jock. in his mind, there's no way he has actually changed into this funny, dorky man who hangs out with his uncle for fun and drives around the younger teens just because he likes them.

he can't actually be best friends with band nerd robin buckley or close to his ex and her boyfriend. he can't be the man who put his body in front of someone else's. he can't be the man who smiles softly at eddie while he makes his snarky comments and refuses to budge and inch on his dislike.

steve harrington who helps his uncle plant a garden and build his chicken coop. who cooks and bakes far better than some rich kid should be able to. who asks about his band and hellfire and his books. who is far funnier than he has any right to be.

so, eddie is all snarky comments and rolled eyes every time he comes home to wayne and steve watching a game together. he is so jealous and can't say anything since wayne adores the guy...and since steve almost died.

he pretends that all the things he's learning about him must be a trick or a lie. steve can't be this person who fits so seamlessly into his life. even the other members of his band warm up to him

eddie will not budge. nope. never.

wayne knows his nephew. knows that eddie would like steve if he just gave him a chance. watches the way his nephew watches steve and waits for the day the eddie realizes what he thinks is loathing is a lot closer to something else. he loves the boy, but knows what a stubborn ass he can be.

steve likes eddie immediately and thinks he's adorable. he thinks eddie is cute when he's annoyed, enjoys the way he huffs and rolls his eyes. he is content to wait for eddie to catch up. he and wayne gossip over coffee and the subject has come up a time or two (or many) and wayne insists that eddie will figure it out eventually.

imagine a world where eddie never gets involved with the upside down but wayne does. even in this world he and steve are inevitable. wayne sees it the minute he watches them interact the first time in the hospital. he has a feeling they'd have found their way to each other somehow. he knows steve was meant to be apart of their family.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 129 (Nancy Landgraab and the SanMy Ballerinas)

Nancy Landgraab loved when Ash was in the city with her family. Where he belonged - if it were up to her, anyway. Her reputation for coldness preceded her, and she used it to her advantage in the cutthroat world of business, but those who managed to get beyond her icy exterior knew a different woman.

Her grandchildren were all but immune to tough judgment from Nancy, and she was thrilled to have them together at the penthouse for Easter. Today, she had both Ash and Bridgette with her to visit one of her pet interests - the SanMy Ballet School at the Performing Arts Centre.

"Pearl said she's even better at ballet than the last time I saw her," chattered Ash from a stool at the back of the room. "I asked if she can do the splits and she said of course she can."

"Most ballerinas are flexible enough to do the splits."

"Can you do the splits, Nan?"

"When I was a ballerina, I could."

"Nan! Nan! I'm a ballerina!" babbled almost four-year-old Bridgette, tearing off her coat to copy the dancers.

(Ash has called her Grandma Nancy before, but since Bridgette started talking, now they both call her Nan. I wanted something different than Grandma since that's what Ash calls Daisy, and I can't believe it took me this long to come up with Nan for Nancy!)

Ash's friend, Pearl, was the best young dancer in her age group, and Nancy had kept an eye on her for years. In her youth, Nancy almost made it herself, but a broken ankle ended her dreams and pushed her to focus on the family business.

Did this leave her bitter? Maybe. But she channeled it into serving on the board of the SanMy Ballet Company, focusing her interests on helping young dancers develop through the connected school.

The older girls were hard at work teaching their students. Elyse Rockwell was a classic beauty, quiet and reserved. She didn't talk much, but she was polite. Nancy liked her.

Natasha Lobo was the girl Nancy thought would drop out of ballet when she was young. She fought struggles at home, she was short, her hips too wide (this chapter is written from Nancy's POV and I disagree but Nancy's a cow), and it took her forever to learn simple grace. But now, Natasha was just as good as Elyse - probably better. Natasha reminded Nancy of herself and she respected her work ethic.

Then there was Sierra Prairies. Oh, Sierra. They could be the best ballerina to ever lace on a pair of slippers, but he insisted on being, well...zirself. Nancy didn't understand Sierra, but she was a good ballerina and great with the younger students.

As practice ended and the girls dispersed, Nancy applauded with a scowl as the girls nervously made their way to the intimidating CEO. "Sierra, we've been over this. Ballet is all about performance, but it's not a clown circus. What are you wearing on your face? And your leotard..."

"It's just animal print, Mrs. Landgraab. How aren't you itching through that drab wool coat?"

"This drab wool cost four-thousand simoleons."

Sierra laughed, unbothered by the wealthy woman's disdain. "You've got to learn to thrift, Mrs. Landgraab. Way better designers at way better prices, just because some rich trendsetter tossed them away when they were ready to spend another four grand on another ugly coat."

"Sierra, maybe don't talk to the school's top donor like that," Elyse suggested carefully. "It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Landgraab."

"I think your coat looks amazing, Mrs. Landgraab. You rock whatever you wear." Toddler Bridgette grinned up at Natasha, pulling at her tights until the blonde picked her up with a smile. "Your granddaughter's getting big. She'll be with us at the school in no time."

Sierra cleared her throat. "Suck up," she said, pretending to cough. "Tash, you're pretty, but you're so obvious. She comes in to see random practices over Easter break! She already cares about the school."

"Sierra Prairies, bite your tongue. Flattery will get you anywhere." Nancy smiled warmly at Natasha. She wasn't sucking up for the sake of the school, but herself. If students wanted to be considered for the company after they'd finished their training, Nancy was the SanMy Ballet Company's most influential board member.

She introduced her grandson as a friend of Pearl Richards, the school's prize student, forgetting entirely that Ash's cousin, Tetra Bell, had recently enrolled.

"Hey Ash," Tetra said, joining the conversation as the girls finished up after class. "My mom says to tell Aunt Heather to plan her wedding to Uncle Conrad already."

Nancy pursed her lips quietly. She was learning to hold her opinion of Ash's mother when her grandson was around.

"There's no time to talk about weddings. I came today to let you know I'm bringing in a film crew next week to show off the new studio. We'll finally be able to get out of this basement that smells like a sewer, and get some great promotion filmed for the school."

"We?"

"Practice before then. Get your spray tans early enough so they're dry when you put on your leotard, dye your roots neon pink if you must, but leave the face stickers at home."

Sierra opened her mouth to protest, but Elyse and Natasha both shushed her.

"I'm asking for one afternoon without stickers on your face, Sierra. I can't imagine they're all that good for your skin, anyway."

Sierra raised her hands apologetically. "I'm joking, Mrs. Landgraab. I can take myself seriously, believe it or not."

"Does that mean you'll show up in a leotard that doesn't look like you stole it from a showgirl in Lucky Palms?"

"What's a showgirl?" Ash wondered innocently.

"It's what your grandmother thinks becomes of every failed ballerina just because she-"

"I didn't fail as a ballerina, Miss Prairies. I broke my ankle and it ended my career."

"It can happen to the best," Elyse said warmly. "We really appreciate everything you do for the school. Even Sierra."

The pink-haired ballerina frowned. "Were you really the best?"

"I could have been big," Nancy admitted proudly as the children began to head home. "Took me a decade to work the ankle back to strength enough just to run on a treadmill."

"Could you still do some moves?"

Nancy shook her head. "Not many. But I still have more grace in my fingertips than any of you."

Easily persuaded, the girls got Nancy out of her expensive coat and into a pair of ballet slippers. She bent and stretched her toes over the polished hardwood, reconnecting with the moves that once flowed through her with as much muscle memory as walking.

She practiced the long forgotten skill as the students packed up to leave, and Elyse kept Bridgette company while Sierra and Natasha goofed off in the corner. Maybe they were showing off for her, which Nancy the board member certainly didn't mind. The company was sorely low on male dancers these days, so Sierra filled the masculine steps while he danced with Natasha.

Sierra whispered something in Natasha's ear with a flirtatious grin. Nancy chuckled to herself, seeing something between the girls that maybe they hadn't even recognized themselves. But they were stealing her thunder.

"Oh, go put that spark inside in a Layla Delarosa book," Nancy laughed. "I'm practicing here." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Tetra Bell, Ash's cousin and the daughter of Holly and Kris, is literally five years old and should not actually be in this ballet class with these older girls. She's no prodigy like Pearl, but she aged up recently and I wanted her to be here to fill the class and show her off. The other girls in the class besides Pearl are Cristal and Noemi Zest, Nancy's nieces who she ignored.

I made them skill and then got them chatting with Nancy and just kinda let what happened happen before setting up the poses. Sierra really did make Nancy angry before I had Nancy practice ballet, and Elyse spent the most time autonomously chatting with the kids after practice ended. Natasha autonomously picked up Bridgette when she asked and also autonomously sucked up with that hand on chest compliment for Nancy. Natasha skilled up in ballet and fitness the fastest of the three.

A huge, enormous, gargantuan thank you to @changingplumbob for sending me these beautiful sims and letting me play in the sandbox with them and the Ballet mod by @janesimsten! I know @paracosmic-sims created Sierra, @bloomingkyras created Natasha, and Elyse was created by @simmerbeans, and they're all stunning! Thank you! Additionally, thank you @paracosmic-sims for sending me in the direction of some awesome and colourful cc for Sierra, which I love even more because it really blows Nancy's goat!

And an extra shout out to @fallstaticexit's Nancy in The Art of Being Seen. She made Nancy look so good as a teenage ballerina that it altered my head canon for her forever! (But in this timeline, she loves to get freaky with Geoffrey!)

WCIF Poses: Pearl doing the splits is from Child Gymnastics Poses by @flowerchamber. Sierra and Natasha are posed using Ceci's Couples Dance I poses (before cut) and RayGun @rayw05771's Ballet Duet poses (after cut). Bridgette was posed using Toddler Ballet poses by @daisylove126, which are so cute, and since they come with an all-in-one option I just played that through while the other girls skilled and it looked like she was dancing along. My heart!

WCIF cc? Elyse and Natasha's bodysuits and tights come with Jane Simsten's Ballet mod (same for what they wore in yesterday's promo). Sierra is wearing @candysims4's Let It Go bodysuit and Marzmerizingsims' Decora face sticker accessories. In yesterday's promo, she wore @joliebean's Cindy leotard with tights.

[morganbritton132]

I want a fic where Robin is adopted.

The only parents she has ever known are her own and the only time being adopted has ever bothered her was when Amanda St. James made fun of her for it in the third grade. But Robin told her that at least her parents wanted her and were not just stuck with her like Amanda’s parents, “And maybe that’s why your Mom and Dad are so unhappy all the time.”

She got in trouble for making Amanda cry and went back to never thinking about her birthparents. She had no interest in knowing anything about them and it stayed like that until she turned sixteen.

On her sixteenth birthday, her mom gave her a letter written to her by her birthmother. Robin doesn’t read it immediately, but eventually gives in to her own curiosity. She reads it over twice before her mind snags on a sentence, ‘I wanted to give you and your brother a better life…’ … you and your brother…. You and your brother…. You and-

“I have a brother.”

This eats at Robin, especially after her dad’s call to the adoption agency goes nowhere. It eats at her so much that she finally gives in – Fred Benson swears up and down that Nancy Wheeler is the best investigator on the school paper – and asks for help.

Nancy says yes and is maybe a little too invested in finding the truth, but honestly, Robin is having fun and she wants to find her apparent twin. She wants to know about his life. Settle the whole nurture over nature thing.

They hit a lot of walls, a lot of dead ends. They break a few rules and maybe commit a felony. They enlist Jonathan Byers to help and even Eddie Munson at one point because he knows how to pick locks, and it’s all for nothing.

One day when they have everything they’ve found spread out across the Wheeler’s dining room table, Steve comes over to pick up Dustin. He looks down at the whole mess and points at her birth certificate like, “Hey, we were born on the same day.” 

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: reader is a bit insecure, little sprinkle of jealous eddie, reader wears glasses, smooching, also the finest cheese in all the land (i hope) <3

part two | part four

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this ended up bit longer than i intended so oops. but big thanks to @strangerstilinski for brainstorming some ideas with me to further cheesify the kissing scene. and another HUGE thank you to @undead-supernova for helping me with fix some things and for looking this over. I LOVE YOU BOTH <3

“What do you mean you didn’t kiss him?!”

You quickly turn to give Nancy a pointed glare before digging deeper into your locker to retrieve your biology textbook.

But really, it is a valid question.

“I— just,” you blow out an exasperated breath. “I panicked, alright? Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

While your date didn’t end on a bad note by any means, it definitely ended on a lame one.

When Eddie dropped you off at home after the two of you spent way too much time cozying up in a corner booth at Benny’s— you weren’t entirely ready to say goodnight to him yet.

But when he walked you to your front door and carefully started to lean in, those pesky nerves got the best of you. Instead, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before he had the chance to reach your lips.

Feelings of disappointment clawed at your insides once your lips brushed against the stubble on his cheek instead of his lips, your tinted chapstick leaving a tinge of pink in its wake. 

Eddie cleared his throat, carefully rubbing the back of his neck while he bid you goodnight. 

You’d barely shut the door behind you when your smile faltered and all those feelings of self doubt you’d managed to push aside all night came creeping back in. 

Everything was going so well, why couldn’t you just kiss him? It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed someone before. 

Your first kiss happened your sophomore year, with band geek Ray Howard in King Steve’s coat closet during a stupid game of 7 minutes in heaven that neither of you enjoyed. 

If you were brave enough to do that, why couldn’t you kiss the guy you actually liked? 

“Well, when are you gonna see him again?” Nancy prompts. You shrug once you slam your locker shut.

“I don’t know… I’m afraid he’s not gonna want another date. I mean, I gave him a peck on the cheek! How lame is that.”

You hug your textbooks to your chest as you head to class with Nancy, who is desperately trying to convince you that Eddie would be insane if he didn’t want to see you again.

You just hoped she was right.

When you don’t see him at lunch, you instantly deflate a little. The doom and gloom that lingers outside the school now mirrors your mood, taking any semblance of your appetite with it. You hadn’t seen him all day, so that only seemed to confirm your worries.

He’s avoiding you. What else could it be?

It’s not like him to skip out on lunch, so instead of heading further into the cafeteria you turn heel to head toward the library— 

And almost collide directly into Eddie.

His leather clad arms instantly wrap around you, a teasing smirk playing on his full lips. Lips you so desperately want to feel pressed against your own.

“Sweetheart, we really gotta stop meeting like this,” he teases, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “One of these days you’ll take both of us out.”

You let out a nervous giggle and an apology, relief filling your chest as his smile grows wider in response. Damn Nancy for always being right.

“Where are you headed in such a rush anyway?” he asks, finally letting you go, much to your dismay.

“Uh… the library. Wasn’t feeling super hungry.”

He nods, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He looks even prettier than when you saw him on Friday. His curls are a little more unruly, his stubble more pronounced. 

And when you catch the faintest hint of cigarette smoke lingering on his jacket and how it mixes with his spicy cologne— it has your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Well, anyway, I was wondering…”

A small grunt leaves his lips as his body is forced forward, directly into yours. The jock that just shoulder checked him mutters a “watch it, freaks” under his breath before continuing past you into the cafeteria.

The shove has closed the remaining distance between you, your faces merely inches apart now. Your palms rest against his chest, feeling how his breath slightly quickens beneath your fingertips. You could so easily kiss him like this, all you have to do is tilt your head up…

But you choke, eyes darting back down nervously toward your feet when you take a small step back.

“Are you alright?” you ask, meeting his eyes once more.

Eddie doesn’t even seem phased by what just occurred, his warm eyes entirely still focused on you.

“Oh, that’s nothing, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can handle myself.”

Eddie motions to his torso, lifting the lapels of his jacket as if to prove his point.

“See? Not even a scratch.”

And it takes all your self control to keep your eyes from wandering lower, past the soft cotton of his shirt, over the handcuff buckle of his belt…

Focus.

“Now, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” his voice raises in volume, eyes throwing a pointed glare towards the jocks table before they settle back on you. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Eddie nods towards the Hellfire table, your eyes drifting across the cafeteria. The familiar group of males are already seated at their usual spots, engaged in a heated debate over something.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eddie can sense your hesitation, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I promise they don’t bite.” He grins, beginning to lead you toward the lunch table. “Can’t say the same for me though.”

He whispers that last part, his lips playfully grazing over the shell of your ear. Eddie can feel how you shiver in response, thoroughly satisfied with himself as you try to compose yourself once you reach his friends.

The guys barely spare either of you a passing glance, still deep in their conversation when Eddie pulls up a chair for you. Right at the head of the table next to his own.

You take a seat with a polite smile, each of the members of Hellfire now noticing your presence. And they can’t hide their utter shock and surprise as Eddie takes his seat beside you. He introduces you properly, going along the table until he reaches the two youngest members of Hellfire.

“While we haven’t been able to coax Sinclair back from the dark side,” he sighs, resting his arm on the back of your chair. “You obviously know Wheeler and Henderson already…”

“Oh, Mike knows her alright,” Dustin interjects, mischievously glancing over at his best friend. “He used to have the biggest crush—”

Mike elbows Dustin in the side before he can even finish his sentence, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he hangs his head.

“Would you shut it?” he hisses, already noting the way Eddie’s gaze hardens as he tugs your chair impossibly closer to his own.

“No… Henderson, please continue.”

A brow quirks up from underneath his bangs, and suddenly the whole table has gone silent, all eyes on their fearless leader.

Dustin nervously swallows, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It was… really stupid kid stuff, not important! Just forget I even brought it up. It was just a dumb— ”

The younger male’s voice raises an octave when he laughs, his nerves shining through.

“— right, just a dumb little crush,” Mike finishes, but Eddie doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

When you suddenly rest your hand on his knee under the table, his composure begins to slip. His eyes soften when he looks down at you. The whole table is practically holding their breath, in anticipation for Eddie’s next move.

But you beat him to it.

“Someone had to be the president of my fan club, right?” you giggle.

Mike just groans in response, head falling to the table while the other guys begin to chatter amongst themselves again, that underlying tension now beginning to melt. Much like you are under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, I’d gladly take over that position, if you’d have me.”

Your breath hitches at the underlying meaning behind his words, and, god, you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you do right now.

When Eddie slowly begins to lean in, Dustin practically gags, the chiming of the lunch bell stopping everything in its tracks.

“Saved by the bell,” he mutters under his breath.

The brunette unwillingly rises to his feet and reaches out a hand for you to take, keeping you closely tucked into his side while he walks you to your next class.

Your mind was racing the rest of the afternoon, impatiently watching the hand on the clock tick by ever so slowly— desperately waiting for the final bell to ring.

After Eddie had walked you to history, he planted a playful kiss to the back of your hand. Giving you a dramatic bow before heading in the opposite direction toward Ms. O’Donnell’s classroom. 

You were a fumbling mess once when you took your seat next to Nancy, and you could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to know everything.

So you spilled the beans during your walk to English afterwards, a plan beginning to form in your head with each step closer to Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Three failed kissing attempts was all your poor heart could take, so you spent the entirety of the last period plotting how you’d be able to get Eddie alone.

Which was how you found yourself pacing back and forth on the football field, eyes scanning the trees for any possible signs of movement. The palms of your hands are sweaty despite the crisp air, the fabric of your sneakers dampening with each step you take through the wet grass.

And you’re wondering if maybe this was a stupid idea, that maybe you heard Jeff wrong.

You knew Eddie dealt weed, the whole school did. But having never dabbled with the leafy substance yourself, you weren’t exactly sure where he made his deals at. So it was a stroke of luck when you overheard Jeff mention it in passing to Grant during English.

Something about how he was going to be late for rehearsal because some jock wanted to buy a bunch of reefer behind the football field. And who was Eddie to refuse a good sale? Especially when the douche was offering him a lot of money.

You’re abruptly broken out of your thoughts when you finally see his lanky figure emerging from the tree line and your heart kicks into first gear— about ready to burst out of your chest with each step he takes towards you.

His curls are a little damp from the mist hanging in the air, that signature dimple indenting his cheek when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

And despite your nerves, it’s a welcomed sight.

“Well, I didn’t take you for a stoner, sweetheart,” he begins.

But you don’t give him the chance to give you a proper greeting before you’re springing into action. Your fingers curl into the collar of his denim vest, meeting him halfway as you lean up to press your lips to his…

Only to end up knocking your heads together instead.

A small grunt of pain leaves him and your stomach twists in embarrassment, fingers gently pressing against your forehead as you wince.

“Oh my god, I am so—”

Those words barely have a chance to slip past your lips before he tilts your chin up and carefully molds his mouth over yours. His movements are slow but steady, as if gauging your response.

Your body reacts before your mind can fully process what’s happening, instinctively reeling him in closer and pressing your lips more firmly against his own. He hums softly, the sound setting your whole body alight.

As Eddie slips one of his hands around your waist, the other reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek. And when he begins to guide you backwards, you let him. Only stopping once your back is flush against the goal post. But even then, he doesn’t stop kissing you.

You can feel the cool metal seeping through the thin layer of your jacket, causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin. But even with the cool air continuing to nip at your exposed skin, you feel like you’re on fire.

His lips are like molten honey, sugary sweet and practically melting you to your core. And you swear this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever felt.

When he eventually pulls away and you take a shuddering breath in, your eyes remain closed. You’re practically on cloud nine, basking in the lingering tingles that prickle over your lips. His hand remains on your cheek, thumb brushing over where his lips just were.

Eddie suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating against your chest while his breath washes over the apples of your cheeks. Only then do your eyes flutter open and you realize the reason behind his amusement.

Your vision is completely obscured, the round lenses of your glasses fogged over from the heat of his breath. You can just barely make out his smile through the frames, but the silliness of the moment has you letting out a giggle of your own.

“May I?” he asks, the tips of his fingers grazing over where the arms of your glasses meet your temples.

You nod immediately, allowing him to remove them with the utmost care. He untucks his Judas Priest t-shirt from his jeans, using the soft cotton to clear the fog away from your lenses. Even with your blurred vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his tummy before it’s hidden away beneath his shirt again.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours, he can’t help but feel like he’s really seeing you for the first time. Not hidden away behind a book or the thick wire frames of your glasses. Just you, in all your unbridled beauty.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he carefully places your glasses back onto the bridge of your nose.

Eddie just grins, leaning his forearm on the goal post above your head. He smells faintly like weed and peppermint gum, and you really want him to kiss you again.

“How’s about I give you a ride home, hm?”

You can’t hide your smile, nodding your head enthusiastically.

“I’d really like that.”

Eddie leans down to press one more searing kiss to your lips before he slips his hand in yours and pulls you along. The two of you now walking hand in hand across the football field.

“So, sounds like I’ve got some competition with Wheeler, huh?” he teases, squeezing your hand a little tighter in his.

“Oh come on, you’ve never had a crush on a babysitter before?”

Eddie takes a step in front of you, beginning to walk backwards while simultaneously guiding you forward.

“Well… considering my only babysitter was starting to bald and my uncle,” he practically shudders, “I’m gonna say no, sweetheart.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Desire, I'm Hungry

Summary: You and Steve happen upon a strange flower and suddenly find yourselves separated from your friends in the Upside Down. An unrelenting desire overtakes the both of you, taking your friendship past the point of no return.

CW: Porn with plot. Sex pollen (so this could be considered forced intimacy). Underlying idiots in love. Mutual pining. AFAB Reader. Steve's canon S4 injuries. Steve's a little mean. Fluff ending. Biting. Blood. Fingering. Makeshift gag. Unprotected P in V. Reader has a vagina. Small breeding kink (it is Steve, after all). Creampie.

This one would not leave my brain until I got it out! Enjoy!

WC: 10.4K

In all the years you had come to know Steve Harrington it had its ups and downs. Being his best friend came with firsthand experience with all things Upside Down that ultimately led you into some pretty precarious situations.

Demogorgans, demo-dogs, Russians and a monster composed solely of melted people were the least of your worries because HE had always been there.

Until this very moment you saw him as untouchable. An invincible protector, the one person who came when you needed to be saved, not the person who needed saving.

He'd reached for your hand in desperation as he disappeared under Lover's Lake. The tips of his fingers slipped through yours, leaving you grasping and screaming out in panic and shock.

“Steve! No, no, no, no!” You scrambled next to Robin, pulling off your jacket about to jump in when she suddenly caught your wrist.

“Hey Y/N! No! You can't just jump in there!” She yelled. Before you could get a word of protest out, you heard Eddie yell behind you.

“Woah, Wheeler you're not going in there, are you?”

“Just wait here.” She replied, briefly cutting her eyes to you before the sound of splashing water drew your attention.

“Holy shit,” Robin breathed out, clutching a hand over her mouth.

“Robin, we can't stay here. Not with both of them down there! Let's go!” Reaching out to her, as you turned back to look at the metalhead. “Eddie?”

“What? No. You can't go. What the fuck man!” He wailed. “She said wait.”

“Yeah, we heard her.” Robin finally nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you both leapt from the boat.

-

You'd never been a strong swimmer, even with all the summers spent by the Harrington's pool. Much more interested in getting some sun instead of swimming laps.

Only now you were regretting never listening to the boy when he tried to give you those life preserving pointers, as you swam to the pulsating gate beneath Lover's Lake. Your lungs were on fire by the time you made it to the opening, Robin extending her hand to help you through.

Eddie surprisingly followed a moment after, while you were still trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, ear splitting screeching noises and Nancy's voice pulled your focus in time to see Satan’s own flying hell spawn attacking Steve on the ground, as she attempted to fight them off.

“Oh my God! We have to help them!” You shouted, taking off in a sprint toward your friends, Eddie and Robin hot on your heels. All regard for your own safety was quickly forgotten.

A weapon was the furthest thing from your mind but as you drew closer, you realized just how dire the situation appeared.

Steve was being strangled by one of the creatures, with its tail wrapped around his neck and another making a meal of him. Nancy had successfully pried one off and was in the midst of fighting it back.

“Steve! Just hang on!” You shouted, stomping a foot down directly on this thing's back as it shrieked out in pain releasing its jaw from his side, immediately turning its attention toward you.

“Oh fuck.” You hissed, as it leapt up taking flight. You turned to run but Robin was right there with an oar.

You ducked as she bashed into this thing, splintering the wood as it fell to the ground. Rushing over you began to stomp on it repeatedly until it stopped moving.

You all turned in time to see Steve holding this creature by the tail and whip it around hitting the ground until it lost consciousness. Stepping on it with his bare foot and pulling until he ripped it apart with his bare hands.

“Fuck,” you huffed, stunned. He was bloodied and bruised, as he spit blood from his mouth, but he was alive.

Robin leaned over slightly, whispering low enough for only you to hear.

“Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor.”

You shut your mouth and shot her a sideways glance, as she snickered.

The joy of a victory was short lived as you rushed over to Steve’s side.

‘Steve, are you okay?” Suddenly hurdling yourself into his chest with a thud as he grunted out, throwing your arms around his neck as he wound his around your back, holding a little too tightly and maybe a few seconds too long before letting go to give you a proper answer.

“Well,” Looking down at his torso, when you stepped back. “They took about a pound of flesh. But, other than that, yeah, never better.”

Robin began ranting about rabies, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Steve as your own set of worries began to seep in. Completely lost on the conversation around you until you heard Nancy yell.

“The woods. Come on!”

“Y/N, c’mon!” Steve frantically tugged at your arm before you all made a run for cover.

You were huddled under skull rock pressed in like sardines, waiting with bated breath until the bats finally dispersed.

Everyone grumbled, and voiced concerns as you stood. Steve took a few uneasy steps before he fell against the rocky surface opposite of you.

“Oh shit,” coming out on a shaky exhale, as he tried to upright himself.

“Steve?” Your head whipped around as you stepped into his space, reaching out to help steady him.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” He huffed out, still a little dazed.

“No, no you're not. You're bleeding. Sit down.” Worrying over him.

He slid down, as you knelt in front of him, guiding his wrist to take his hand away from his oozing wound. Nancy began to tear the bottom of her shirt, quickly handing you the fabric.

Robin started rambling about rabies again before you glared at her.

“Rob, not helping!” You hissed before she mumbled an apology and backed away from the two of you.

“You ready?” Asking him as he looked down at you, poised with his makeshift bandage.

“Yeah, just do it.” He pinched his eyes closed, bracing himself, wincing once you pulled it taut against his abdomen and began wrapping.

“Too tight?” Chancing a glance up at him but he was already staring down at you, with a scowl plastered across his features.

“Why the hell are you down here?” He suddenly blurted out.

“What the hell do you mean? We all jumped in for you.” His question genuinely bewildered you, eyes drifting back down, concentrating on the task at hand. Wouldn't he do the same for any of you?

“You should have stayed in the boat. Like I told you to.” He chides.

You work to finish covering his wounds, ignoring the sting of his words. Scolding you as if you were a petulant child who didn't listen to their father.

“A thank you would be nice.” Mumbling out as he winced when you tightened it to begin tying it off.

“A thank you?” Scoffing down at you. “Well instead of me dying, now we all might die. Don't you get that? Jesus, Y/N you don't lis— Fuck!” He hissed out.

You made sure to pull the last knot even tighter, effectively cutting off the rest of his little tirade.

“Oops.” You smirked, finally standing and stepping away from him.

You were drenched and cold, suddenly all too aware of your grim situation. You sure as hell didn't need a lecture from him right now after saving his ass.

“Fuck off Steve! We were all trying to save you!” You shouted, leaving the rest of the crew to stare around awkwardly, shifting gazes amongst each other.

“I didn't need to be saved! You should have stayed on the fucking boat!” He yelled back.

“Hey, guys,” Nancy cleared her throat, trying to break the tension between the two of you before it got any worse.

“What?!” Shouting in unison, turning your heads to look over at her.

“Maybe we should get going, yeah? And uh… stay a little quieter?” Her eyes drifted to the treetops overhead, scanning a moment.

You'd both been so fixated on the other, the horrors of the upside down had slipped your minds. She was right, you were trying to avoid attention, not bring it directly on top of you.

“Let's all just calm down and get through this together.” She hummed, satisfied with your nods of agreement taking off ahead of you once more as Robin followed.

Eddie's wide eyes met yours and then Steve's.

“Right, I should, uh…” he said, thumb pointed in their direction. “But uh, here.” Shrugging his vest off before forcefully tossing it toward Steve's chest.

“For your modesty dude.” Smirking before he darted away to follow after the girls.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, voice coming out quieter this time but still laced with annoyance.

“C’mon. Just stay close and don't wander off.” Before taking a few steps to catch up to Eddie.

“Don't wander off.” Mocking under your breath, staying a few paces behind, not wanting to be near your ungrateful so-called best friend.

The forest got darker the further you went. It felt like eyes were on you the entire time. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled and uneasy, closing the gap between yourself and the boys.

You were close enough now to catch bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, more Eddie talking than not. You knew Steve well enough that he was still brooding about the entire situation. He didn't hate you, quite the opposite. His harsh tone only masks his own worries and fears.

You caught him more than once glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were never too far away.

“Dustin… said I was badass?”

“Oh yeah. Shit. Kid WORSHIPS you, man. Like, you got no idea. It's rather annoying to be honest.”

You smirked at that. Dustin never told Steve anything like that, coming off as an annoying little brother all the time.

“Those ladies jumped in after you and I was too damn ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. Wheeler there, she didn’t waste a second. I mean not a split second. She just dove right in. I don’t know what happened between you two, but… I’d get her back, man. Whatever it takes. ‘Cause that… that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve stops at Eddie's spiel, looking over his shoulder once more, as you roll your eyes. Of course it was always about Nancy. The one that got away. Not like you tried to dive in first, right? Eddie was too freaked out to notice back there.

Before Steve had the chance to respond the ground began to shake once more, as everyone tried to hang on. You lost your footing, tripping over a stump and thankfully not landing on one of those damn vines, losing sight of everyone behind an overgrown thatch of bushes.

The rumbling slowed to a dull roar just as something caught your eye in a small clearing up ahead, emanating a small bluish-purple glow through the trees ahead. It was faint but while everything in the Upside Down was muted and dull it stuck out like a sore thumb.

As if it was pulling you in, you stumbled forward, quickly righting yourself and heading toward it. It was pulsing slightly; a steady, slow rhythm like a heartbeat.

You stopped at the center of the clearing, as you stepped closer, you realized it was a flower or at least flower shaped. Something akin to a Dahlia back home but it was a glowing azure color, petals almost transparent.

There were a few unopened buds that were also pulsing. The closed pods thumped, not taking notice of the way the pulses quickened as you stepped closer.

Your mind was clouded as you watched them. Beauty in a barren landscape, so mesmerizing you didn't hear Steve calling out for you.

As if on autopilot, your hand began to drift toward it as he jogged up beside you.

“Hey, did you not hear me calling for you? What're y—” He trailed off, feeling helpless watching your fingertips graze the pod as he tried to yank you back, but it was too late.

You were both too close when the thing practically exploded open, releasing a cloud of pearlescent powder into the space between you.

The dust landed on everything in a five-foot radius, as it invaded your lungs causing you both to choke on what you could only think of as its pollen. He grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you away.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in between coughs and a few sneezes.

“I don't…” before you could properly form a response, screeching could be heard from overhead once more.

“Shit!” He hissed, before shouting back to the others to run for it. The hive mind. Everything was connected down here, it only made sense the flowers were too. The flying bats were back.

You and Steve took off the opposite way that you entered the clearing, dodging vines and low hanging branches in the process. He was trying to slow down so you could keep up.

“C’mon y/n. I think I see a building up ahead!” He shouted.

It was a dilapidated looking cabin, but it would have to do, as he took the steps two at a time reaching the porch with you right behind him.

He barreled through the door, thankful it wasn't locked as you rushed past him, slamming it shut in time to see some of the creatures flying low, unsure if they'd spotted you.

His hands quickly moved to the deadbolt, looking around the small space grabbing a chair, wedging it under the door handle.

You both stood there a moment facing the door, trying to catch your breath as a loud thump echoed overhead as it landed on the roof. It let out an ear-piercing screech that had you covering your ears. Steve hovered his finger over his lips as a shushing motion as a few more thuds and mirrored screeches followed.

He was trying to think, shining the flashlight this way and that, finding an open door near the edge of the kitchen, spotting a set of stairs that were leading down.

He quietly shuffled over to it, shining his beam ahead. It looked like it led to a small basement or at least a root cellar, as he nodded for you to follow as he began his descent.

You sighed, but reluctantly walked over as quietly as possible and trailed behind him, closing the door softly behind you. There was no lock, but it did latch shut.

It was dark, the only light emanating from his flashlight, as he shined it back to the stairs for you to climb down.

“I think we'll be safer down here.” He whispered. “There's a cot over there.” Pointing to the corner.

It was a small room. No other outlet, looking more like a bunker than a cellar. Shelves lined the wall with food and various supplies. At least you were covered if you had to stay a while but hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Steve,” You began but he immediately cut you off holding his hand up.

“If you hadn't gotten distracted, we wouldn't be in this situation.” His voice is a little louder, but still barely above a whisper.

“It's not my fault Steve, I saw something glowing, like it was pulling me in. You didn't have to fucking follow me!” You knew he was right, but you were feeling attacked.

“Yeah, I did. I'm not leaving anyone behind in this fucking place. Even if you can't follow simple directions.” He huffs, throwing a hand to his hip as he surveyed the room. “Not enough you get us separated, but you have to go and touch that weird ass flower. God knows what the hell that shits going to do to us.”

He was venting more than yelling toward you at this point, frustrated with the entire situation.

“You knew you weren't supposed to touch shit… that hive mind…”

“Steve.”

He continued to mumble over in the corner, with his back turned, throwing his hands around in dramatic fashion.

“But no! You touch it and now we're contaminated…”

“Steve!” Hissing out more forcefully, finally knocking him from his train of thought and little rant.

“What?!” He spun around, throwing the beam from his flashlight directly in your face. “What Y/N?”

You threw a hand up shielding your eyes with a grimace before he quickly lowered it, mumbling an apology.

“Can you just stop pacing? It's not helping anything. You're just giving me a headache.” You grumbled, sitting down on the cot. It slightly squeaked under your newly added weight, as your elbows landed on your knees, bringing your hands to cover your face with a groan.

“You're giving me a headache…” he mumbled slightly under his breath, but you still caught it. He found a small chair in the opposite corner, plopping down with a sigh.

After about ten minutes of total silence, you laid back on the cot, unwilling to give him any more attention. Though he continued to mutter under his breath occasionally, you ignored him.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up. “I'm going to give it a few more minutes and see if they're still on the roof. Maybe we can make a break for Nance’s place and regroup.”

“Yeah, fine.” Huffing a reply with an eye roll.

It was then you noticed a strange tingling on the skin around your neck, kind of like a cold chill. Shaking your head as you sit up, to rub the back of your neck.

“You ok?” He asked, watching intently.

“Fine. Just… a chill.” You shrugged, as he nodded.

Another drawn out silence before either of you attempt to speak.

“Hey, are you… do you feel itchy?” He asked, scratching his exposed shoulder.

“Um, well now that you mention it, yeah. This spot on my neck is itchy.” Your hand absentmindedly reached up, scratching at it again.

“It's that damn flower. I knew it!” He exclaimed, standing up. “Look, we need to see if we can get out of here.”

You watched him carefully retreat up the stairs, his footsteps creaking across the floorboards above your head, stopping for a few moments before making their way back over to the door as he came back into view.

“Ok, looks like we might be here for a while. They're still moving around up there, and when I looked out the window there's a few in the surrounding trees.” He slid back down into the chair, spreading out as much as he could to make himself comfortable.

“Fuck, isn't that just great?” You huffed out, taking your turn to pace the small room. Was it getting hot in here? A bead of sweat rolled down your back. When did it get so muggy?

“Just calm down, we'll get out of here. Okay?” He sounded so sure of himself; you almost believed him.

You sat back down, stretching your legs out onto the cot and finally laying back. The situation was looking bleak, your own mind filling with anxious stress. At least Steve’s here. You don’t have to die alone.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, wiping his brow several times before finally rolling your head toward his direction.

The vest Eddie gave him hung open, revealing his chest, the thick smattering of hair slick and matted down. Was he sweating too? His toned chest moving up and down, a steady rhythm with each breath he took. His head was leaned back on the wall behind him, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, before letting go as he picked his head up looking at you as if he could feel your eyes on him. You didn't look away, holding his gaze.

“Steve?” You finally asked.

“Yeah?” His eyes shift away from your face, trailing down your body before looking back up as his tongue darted out wetting his parched lips.

“Is it hot in here?” Sitting up, fanning yourself. “I feel like I'm burning up.”

“Yeah… yeah, no. I thought it was just me.” Letting out a sigh. “It could be the close quarters, but I don't think we should go upstairs yet.”

“No, yeah. You're right.” You laid back down, eyes to the ceiling. You could ignore the heat if it meant survival for at least a bit longer.

He turned the light off a little while later, trying to conserve what little battery life it had left.

At some point you drifted off to sleep because you were roused by him touching your arm. It felt like ice touching your flushed skin as you sat straight up trying to catch your bearings.

“Hey! Woah, it's just me.” He soothed, as you flinched away from his unusual cold touch. He pulled his hands back, giving you some space. “I wanted to check on you. I don't think it's hot down here. I think it's us.”

You felt dizzy sitting all the way up, throwing the back of your hand to your forehead. You were on fire. Your nearly dry clothes were sticking to the dampness of your flushed skin, making you cringe. There was also an overwhelming feeling of an unquenchable thirst in the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Steve. I really did it this time.” You folded over yourself, head in your hands, groaning at the way you almost felt drunk or drugged, wondering if he felt as bad as you did.

“No, hey. Look, I'm sorry about earlier. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I’m the reason we’re in this situation.” You moved your head to look up at him, willing your bleary eyes to focus. A thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin, hair sticking against his forehead. His eyes are what caught your attention the most.

His usual golden flaked, honey hued irises were a mere fraction of a ring around a black abyss. This pollen was affecting him the same, he just had a better poker face but he couldn't control the truth his eyes showed you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, as you sat there unblinking.

“Yeah, I…” Shaking your head to look away. “Yeah, no. I don't fucking know right now.”

He shuffled over to one of the shelves looking for some water or anything to help alleviate your symptoms. Pausing for a moment, wondering if anything could be trusted from the Upside Down but there wasn't anything of value he could find in any case.

“Fuck!” He hissed, turning back around.

“Steve, it's ok.” You croaked out. “Just sit down.” You patted the small space beside you on the cot as you scooted over. He hung his head and skirted back over, sitting down carefully trying not to touch you.

_

He didn't want to tell you that while you were sleeping this overwhelming urge started to come over him. An ache low in his belly, and groin. It started out dull but began to grow, radiating through him as a spiked sense of arousal began thrumming through his veins.

Shame began to wash over him. How could he be so turned on at a time like this? A few more minutes passed when he was hit with the most intoxicating scent. It was faint at first. When he took in another heavy exhale it invaded his nostrils and filled his lungs.

He didn't understand where it was coming from, but he felt light, almost high, as he continued to breathe in and out, letting it wash over him. He could only describe it as a familiar, yet exotic thing, wrapping him up in a warm hug. It was almost irresistible, in the way a bakery or candy shop lures you in with promises that, yes it tastes just as good as it smells.

He turned the light back on, shining it toward your still sleeping form, shifting his hooded and heavy eyes over you stretched out on the small cot. There wasn't much skin showing, aside from your exposed arms but then you turned toward him as your shirt rose up slightly, exposing a sliver along your hip that suddenly had him drooling.

He felt his cock stir in his pants, with an ache that was suddenly all consuming. He hadn't realized when he'd gotten up, but he was suddenly standing over you, reaching out, fingertips grazing your arm.

You stirred slightly, as he watched your lips part with a soft breath settling back down.

He placed his palm to your arm, fingers wrapping around your soft, pliable flesh and an instant feeling of relief flooded his senses but then you'd woken, startling him out of this sudden trance.

-

You stretched and yawned beside him, shedding the last bits of slumber from your small nap. You couldn't have been out long, but you were so tired and thirsty.

Had he been awake the whole time? A sudden pang of guilt overtook you at the thought.

“If you need a nap, I'll move so you can take the cot.” Saying as you slowly stood, stiff on unsure legs, as you swayed just a bit plopping back down, your arm brushing his. It was brief but the feeling was cool against the searing heat radiating from you.

“Woah, just take it easy, yeah?” He turned toward you, hands at the ready but just hovering. He didn't trust himself right now.

“How… how are you so cold? Your skin, I mean? I thought you were hot too?”

“I am, look at me. I'm fucking sweating.” He gestured toward himself, a thin sheen of sweat still covering his face and body.

“Can I…” You couldn't get the question out before your hand was already reaching up, suddenly gripping his wrist.

Your brain is flooded with endorphins. A dopamine hit that had you suddenly searching for more. Your eyes closed at the contact, missing the way Steve’s mouth parted slightly releasing a shuddered breath.

As if you had no control of your body, your other hand moved up, planting itself firmly on Steve's chest, eliciting a small whimper from him that made your eyes shoot back open.

“Do you feel that?” You asked, watching his eyes flutter closed. All he could do was nod, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You moved his wrist up, as he opened his hand, already anticipating what you were thinking, as you placed his palm to your chest.

“Oh my God,” it slipped out, almost a moan more than words. His hand immediately soothing the patch of exposed skin that had your eyelids lazily closing once more.

“It feels so good, Steve.” You breathed out.

Your words were doing nothing to quell his ever-growing arousal. He took in a heavy breath and there it was. That overpowering aroma was suddenly surrounding him once more, too heavy to ignore.

It was you.

When you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, the pupils were blown wide, full of lust and desire. Your lips parted slightly, releasing a small exhale you had been holding. All he wanted to do was lean in and press his lips to yours, letting his tongue explore and taste all that you had to offer.

“No.” He hissed out, jumping up and stumbling back, putting a little space between the two of you.

“What? What's wrong?” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact.

“This. This isn't… Jesus!” He whispered out, trying to maintain his composure. “Can't you see what's happening? It's the goddamn flower, that powder. It's making us… whatever this is.” Gesturing between the two of you.

Of course he had an attraction to you. He'd been harboring, what he thought, were unrequited feelings for the better part of two years.

“Yeah, I know, but it feels so good when you touch me, Steve.” Your voice was dripping with seduction, even if you hadn't meant it that way. Your head was getting all fuzzy again, swaying a little.

“Goddamnit, we need to get out of here.” He hissed, wiping his forehead. “I'm checking upstairs again.”

You watched him go, leaning back on the small cot once more.

Aside from the dizziness, there was something stirring just under your skin. An itch you couldn't quite scratch, a buzz or a hum starting at the base of your neck, traveling down your spine sending a sudden spark to your lower abdomen like when you were… Oh God. Your legs closed as if by their own volition when that spark suddenly had your core clenching around nothing just as he descended back down the stairs.

“I think we're almost in the clear. The ones in the trees are gone and… hey, are you okay?” Finally noticing the almost pained expression etched across your face.

“I… I'm… Steve, what the hell is wrong with us?” You sat up quickly, getting to your feet with a gentle sway. He didn't think this time reaching for you.

His touch both soothed and electrified you. Cooling hands on hot skin but an even hotter feeling pooling between your thighs, making a small whimper escape you.

He closed his eyes as your cheek hit his chest. He was trying to think of something, anything else other than the way you felt against him.

You inhaled deeply, his woodsy musk surrounding you entirely. It was illogical. You'd both been in the lake and running through the woods, yet his scent was mouth watering.

“God, Steve, you smell so good.” You murmured, feeling intoxicated, grabbing onto Eddie's vest with clenched fists.

“Yeah, s—so do you.” Dropping his hands to rest on your hips, your head lifting at his admission.

“Yeah?” You asked, almost breathless. He nods, licking his lips, your eyes landing there as your hands slip under the vest smoothing over his chest, the coarse hair tickling your palms as a shiver ran down his spine.

It's like you couldn't stop yourself, stepping closer into his space as his grip on you tightened, pulling you fully into him, your lower stomach meeting his hips.

“Steve?” Asking as you inch forward, calves beginning to strain as you stand on the tips of your toes.

“Yeah?” He asks, holding his breath.

“I really want to kiss you.”

No sooner than the statement left your lips, he surged forward closing the gap.

Parched from the day's activities left his usual plush, soft looking lips chapped and dry but you didn't mind.

An immediate feeling of relief washed over you. It was like finding an oasis in the desert, drinking the taste of him down, briefly quenching that immeasurable thirst.

He tilted his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as his nose pressed further into your cheek. You worked in tandem until his tongue dared to slip out, silently begging for permission.

You parted your lips with a soft moan as they met, slowly circling and entangling but you were hungry for more. Your hand slid up his chest and wound around the nape of his neck, finding his usual soft strands of hair, dirty and matted, pulling on the ends before pulling him closer, earning you a moan that you eagerly swallowed down.

The hand on your hip traveled south, snaking its way to the fat of your ass, suddenly groping and kneading your pliant flesh through your jeans pushing you further into him. His now very prominent hard cock pressed into the softness of your lower abdomen, taking you by surprise when you felt it twitch between you as he groaned.

At some point the two of you had begun moving, only realizing it when your back hit the far wall, knocking you from your trance. Your lips separated but still momentarily connected by a thin string of saliva as you pant into each other's mouths.

“Fuck, I need you, Steve.” You hissed out, pushing at the shoulders of the denim vest he still wore.

“Wait,” A moment of clarity for him, grabbing your wrists to halt your movements making you pout, as he looked around the dingy, cobweb infested space.

“Shit I— we can't do that down here.”

“Why not?” Asking, as your lower lip jutted out, eyebrows crinkling. The ache in your lower abdomen was getting worse, your clit was throbbing, practically begging for any kind of stimulation.

He shouldn't have looked at you. Your eyes were glossy in the dim light, looking as if tears were about to roll down your cheeks. He wasn't any better off. His cock was throbbing painfully against his pants, a wet patch of precum visible where his head laid.

“Goddamnit!” He hissed, pausing for a deep breath, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Because I don't want the first time with you to be on a filthy basement cot in the upside down!”

You couldn't help the grin that lifted the edges of your lips into a smirk, as you continued to stare at his bared throat. Wondering for a moment what it would be like to sink your teeth into him. This deep primal hunger was overpowering your senses, overtaking any other basic needs.

“Fuck me upstairs then.” You blurted out.

“Wh—what?” As if he'd misheard you, whipping his head back down.

“I said,” leaning closer to him. “Fuck. Me. Upstairs. There's a bed up there.” You nip at his nose and giggle when he pulls back, grip moving, holding firm to your shoulders.

When it disbursed, you had taken the brunt of the pollen, if you could even call it that, apparently it was affecting you more severely, unable to concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds at a time.

“We can't— you— don't know what you're saying, and those things are still up there.”

“Stevie, please?” Your voice drips with desire, sultry and sweet. Looking up at him with your best doe eyes had all manner of his resolve quickly fading.

“I can be quiet. I promise.” You whispered with a pout, as your fingertips dance along his exposed chest. “What're friends for, Stevie? We need to help each other out.”

“Fuck,” he groans, slipping his hand into yours, turning without saying another word to grab the flashlight pulling you along. He wasn't going to be able to hold out, suddenly driven by the unwavering need in his pants, it seemed better to give in to your advances than try to fight them. Your sweet tone, seemingly needing him just as much as he needs you, he couldn't resist.

His mind was flooded with the vivid image of how your tight cunt would feel wrapped around his shaft, he quickly ascended the stairs looking back once holding his finger to his lips when he reached the door, easing it open. The rush of cooler air hit you as soon as the door opened for a small reprieve.

“I'm going to check out the windows, go down the hall. Quietly.” Nodding toward the right. “The first door on the left has a bed and no windows.”

You nod your understanding as he lets go of your hand, letting you go your separate ways. Tiptoeing down the hall, it was quiet, aside from the errant clap of thunder that echoed through the walls every thirty seconds or so.

The room had been exactly where he had explained. It seemed small, but the only light filtered in from the hall, illuminating only a portion of the bed. As your eyes adjusted, the bed came more into view, a little dusty but bigger than the cot downstairs.

You threw the quilt back, revealing surprisingly pristine sheets underneath. You decided to discard your muddy, lake soaked shoes as he came into view.

He had turned his light off, a silhouette of broad shoulders illuminated against a dusky red backdrop as another bolt of lightning split the sky outside. He stood there lingering in the doorway, eyes briefly running over your form. Your breath hitched in your throat drinking him in when he finally took a few steps forward.

He stood before you without saying a word, quickly finding your hips and wasting no time pulling you flush against him once more as you let out a small squeak of surprise bracing yourself against his chest.

“Steve, I—”

You were quickly cut off when he sealed his lips over yours. His intoxicating scent once again surrounded you as your brain began to shut off, driven only by your primal desires.

Your hand trailed down his abdomen, fingertips grazing his bandages finding the exposed skin low by his waistband. He shuddered at your soft, lingering touch. Going lower still, he hisses and pulls back from your kiss as you palm at his erection over his pants.

It felt like you were on autopilot. The only thought in the forefront of your mind was the overpowering need for relief. The need to be as close as possible.

He was taken by surprise when you grabbed the lapels of his vest and quickly pulled him around. The back of his knees hit the bed, as he fell rather ungracefully.

The springs groaned under the sudden pressure of his added weight as he let out a grunt, uttering a “shit,” under his breath.

You quickly straddled his legs, giving him no time for protest, crawling up and sitting flush on his bulge trying to be mindful of those raw wounds fresh on his sides.

A chorus of expletives left both of your lips the moment your hips grind down searching for friction with your hands pressing firmly to his chest holding him in place. Your aching clit gets some relief, the stiff denim pressing into you sliding down the rigid length of him and back up. A fresh wave of arousal flooding from your core adding to your already ruined panties.

In any other circumstances, you would feel embarrassed rutting up against your best friend like a wild animal in heat, but seeking out and taking what you needed was first and foremost.

You leaned forward, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I could eat you up.” You whisper, lips grazing just below his ear, teeth nipping at his sensitive skin before your tongue rolls out, languidly licking at his jugular, his pulse thumping wildly against your muscle.

You whine, relishing the salty, earthy and coppery mixture as it settles along your taste buds, feeling him shutter beneath you taking a ragged breath only adding to your desire.

His hands find the plush of your hips, pulling you down to meet an upward thrust that has you leaning back up and moaning out without any regard for his earlier warnings and your promise.

His eyes shot up to you, barely illuminated in the dim light but you were a sight to see.

Your head is thrown back as if you were already in the throes of heady pleasure. Your mouth hung open slightly, another breathy wine escaping as you dragged your hips against his cock once more. Any and all of what was left of his will power was gone. His imagination ran rampant with the thought of you coming undone, falling apart only for him.

In one swift motion, he bucked his hips, gaining momentum to flip you over. Your back hits the mattress, making you gasp sharply as he seated himself between your parted thighs.

Your eyes go wide with surprise when his hand quickly shoots to your mouth, his large palm stifling your sounds.

Leaning further into your space, his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I'm going to give you what you want but you've got to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, fisting the vest in your hands, letting out a small whimper as he slowly took his hand away.

“Use your words, honey.” He scolded.

“Yes, I– I can be quiet.” You breathed out, beginning to feel faint.

“Good girl.” He purred, his words sending your mind into overdrive.

You pawed at his chest, pushing the denim at his shoulders. He sat up, finally pulling it free from his body and tossing it across the room. Your hands roam across the expanse of his chest and broad shoulders.

He reached the hem of your shirt, fingers skirting up your tummy, cool fingertips sending goosebumps across your flesh. You nodded as his eyes caught yours before he quickly pulled it over your head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, watching intently as your chest rose, pushing your breasts against the cups of your bra with each steady inhale, threatening to spill out all on their own before you reached behind, deftly unclasping it and lifting it away.

“Fuck, honey.” His eyes go dark, one of his large hands immediately finding its way to your soft skin. His calloused palm engulfing you as he kneads timidly, at first. You keen into his touch, arching upward, searching for more.

His mouth meets your pert nipple on the other side, swirling his tongue and roughly squeezing the breast under his palm. He nips at the taut bud as if testing the waters, teeth grazing before applying more pressure and immediately soothing the mild sting, laving the wet muscle back across your skin.

To keep from crying out, you bite down on your lip, whimpering as his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure down your body, shooting straight to your core.

He pulls off of you with an audible pop, eyes darting to your face when he feels you trying to push his pants down.

“Please, Steve. I need you! I can't wait.” You hiss out, still trying to maintain a whisper but the longer this keeps getting drawn out the more desperate you become, aching to be filled. An ache that was growing so strong it was boarding on painful.

Dipping your way past his waistband just a moment later, he shudders when your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft, wrapping your hand around his girthy cock.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own sounds as you stroke up and back down at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your thumb finds his head, a steady stream of precum already leaking from the tip, swirling your digit in the mess was almost too much as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Your mouth fell agape with a silent gasp, a cry caught in your throat as your other hand flew to the back of his head, fingers digging into his locks and tugging harshly. He quickly unhinges his jaw, peppering kisses where his teeth had just been.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles out, pulling back and swatting your hands away from his pants as he sits up.

Your thighs go slack, as he blindly pops the button on your jeans, pulling the zipper down harshly, digging into the denim waistband before you lift your hips aiding in him hastily tugging them and your panties down your legs.

He tosses them somewhere behind him, before standing up and shedding his own pants and boxers, letting them unceremoniously pool at his feet.

Your eyes quickly rove over as much of his naked body as the dim lighting would allow, licking your lips. His cock was standing at full attention, curved slightly upward as he wrapped his own hand around it, pumping it lightly a few times.

His knees find the mattress, planting his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart to accommodate his frame.

Pausing a moment to appreciate the site before him, his fingertips trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to where you yearn for him the most. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he tightened his grip and pulled you toward him.

“Steve,” you plead, as he ghosts over your slick lips, his thumb and forefinger spread you apart with a sticky release before he finally presses his thumb pad down onto your puffy clit making your hips buck up.

Sensing your urgent need, his finger begins to tease your aching hole, your arousal drips out, as he finally dips in, your hips rising up in time to push his digit further in.

Your head falls back into the pillow, the hand at your hip pushes you flush against the mattress holding you there as he pumps in and out of your tight pussy, quickly adding a second finger to help stretch you out.

“I can smell your needy cunt.” He hisses, practically salivating. Both of your pheromones were in overdrive, your scent wafting through the air like honey, luring him in. A feast begging to be devoured. “I bet you taste just as sweet.”

His words mixed with his current ministrations left you teetering on the edge, his digits stroke up, finding that sweet spot along your frontal wall and just when you were about to fall apart, it suddenly disappeared. Feeling as though it was subdued by some unseen force, leaving you whimpering and unsatisfied, as tears spring to your eyes in frustration.

“Steve, I— it's not working, I need more.” You huff out. It was then you noticed he was fisting his cock, searching for his own release alongside you.

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” He let out a little breathless. “It's not working f’me either.”

You immediately mourn the loss as his fingers slip from you before he promptly shoves them past his lips, humming around the taste, the potent elixir bursting on contact with his taste buds flooding his senses, igniting his insatiable hunger even further.

“Jesus Christ, I fuckin’ knew it.” His pupils dilate, high on the taste of you, a drug he suddenly realized he'll never be able to fully detox from.

He grips the base of his cock with one hand, leaning over and lining himself up with your soaked entrance, pressing the tip in, feeling your gummy walls start to mold around him, as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Please.” It was a breathy thing, as your muscles instinctually constricted around the welcome intrusion.

He groans, unable to hold himself back any further, snapping his hips and burying himself in one fluid motion. Your pussy gives little resistance between how wet you are and the unrelenting desire to be completely filled.

“Oh God!” Biting back another loud moan being ripped from your chest, digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood this time, as his thick cock splits you open.

There was a slight burn, as he sat snugly inside your tight channel that quickly gave way to overwhelming pleasure when he pulled back, withdrawing almost completely leaving just his leaking tip before plunging back in, somehow feeling deeper than before.

You muffle your cries the best you can, as he begins to set a near brutal pace. Every thrust pulling little ah, ah, ahs past your lips as your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the fat of his ass pushing him further into you.

He hisses and stills when your legs gripping a little too tight, pull his focus from fucking you to the searing pain at his sides. The wounds had been forgotten from the pure ecstasy he was feeling.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” It was enough to knock you from your lust fueled haze momentarily as he pulled out.

“Flip over.” He grunts.

“Wha—” A sharp smack to the side of your thigh has the words dying on your tongue with a gasp.

“Flip. Over.” Repeating himself a little more forcefully. The soft boy next door being replaced with a rougher version, that suddenly had your pussy clenching around nothing at his harsh demeanor.

You rolled onto your stomach, as his hands came to grip your hips with a bruising force, pulling your ass up.

He wastes no time shoving his throbbing length back between your glistening lips, bumping your clit once before slowly guiding his ruddy tip past your entrance, as your cunt flutters around him practically sucking him in.

He's trying to contain his grunts to a minimum, when your noises start to fill the air he brings his palm down hard against your ass, making you jerk away, burying your face in the sheets below with a whine.

“Giving you exactly what you want, and you still can't keep that pretty mouth shut?” He hisses, grinding his hips slowly, to properly scold you. “Feels too good, huh, honey?”

You merely mewl and nod, before another smack echoes around the room, his palm smoothing soothingly over your reddened cheek.

“I asked you a question, honey.” His voice is lazy, dripping sugary sweet condescension.

“Yes, Steve, mmph— it— you feel so, so good.” Finally able to mumble out a coherent sentence.

He smirks, letting a hand slide down the length of your spine, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head before hauling you up, back flush against his sweaty chest.

Winding his arm around your midsection, the other detangles from your hair to cover your mouth as he places a soft kiss to your temple before his hips snap harshly, the new angle making you cry out, but it's muffled with his palm securely placed over your lips.

“Gotta be quiet, remember honey?” He huffs, breath hot against your neck, unrelenting in his conquest to see your demise.

You grip his forearm, nails digging crescents into his skin, hanging on for dear life. Each outward stroke and upward thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your eyes roll back, suddenly careening you toward the edge of oblivion.

His hand helps stifle your moans, blunt fingertips digging into the apple of your cheek, but you can't help the involuntary sounds that continue to slip out.

“Fuck, y—you feel good.” He stutters out, right in your ear. “Pussy feels like it was made f’me. Mmmm. Gripping me so fuckin' tight.”

The hand around your waist starts drifting south, coming to caress your mound momentarily before delving between your folds finding your puffy, neglected clit with expert ease, drawing swift circles against you causing your cunt to constrict around him sending another wave of arousal flooding out, soaking his balls and dripping down your thighs.

“That's it, honey. I promise we'll get there this time.” His cocky demeanor was doing it for you. You'd never seen this side of Steve, taking control, fucking you better than anyone ever had.

“You're going to cum on my cock while I stuff this cunt full.” You whined out at his words, high pitched against his palm. “That's what you want, huh? Fill you up and make it stick? F—fuck I think I'm close.”

You try to nod, letting him know you were too.

The heat that had been simmering for the last hour in your abdomen was finally reaching a boiling point. Pressure was building, as he continued to pound into you, his cock hitting at just the right angle.

Your grip on his forearm tightened, fingernails beginning to draw blood, but he didn't show any signs of distress, never ceasing his movements solely focused on you and the way you felt around him.

You close your eyes, as the flames begin to lick up your spine, spreading further and growing hotter. It was an all-consuming pleasure, your cunt begging for release, begging for his release.

Whatever this pollen had done to the both of you, it was clear it had a driving force with one thing in mind. Procreation. Unsatisfied and unsatiated until you were bursting full of his life giving fluid.

You're finally able to pry his hand away from you to let out one more breathy plea.

“Cum in me, Steve. I— I can't cum, I need you.” Your voice was low and raspy, but he heard you loud and clear.

He fully removed his hand, suddenly pushing you forward. Too weak to fight, your body fell onto the mattress with a small groan as he quickly withdrew himself and manhandled you around to lay on your back.

No matter what this pollen had done to him. He was still Steve deep down and he could never imagine not looking at your beautiful face as you fell apart for the first time. All for him.

He slips off the bed momentarily, picking something up from the floor before crawling back between your legs.

“I'm sorry, honey. You can't stay quiet.” He whispers.

“Wh—,” your question was cut off when he stuffs your filthy panties past your lips for a makeshift gag, kissing your forehead before grabbing the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half.

His palms push you down and hold your thighs open for him as he ruts his cock up through your folds, the tip grazing your clit before catching at your entrance. His head tips down to watch himself slowly disappear into your tight heat.

Your head flies back, feeling every ridge and vein upon his deliberate reentrance, fisting the sheets beneath you as muffled cries echo across the room. He pauses to take delight in the way your face is screwed up with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, suddenly wishing he could hear all the pretty sounds you were making unhindered.

He starts to move again, eyes drifting back down to where the two of you connected to watch himself plunge in and out of your soaked pussy, seemingly mesmerized by the way your greedy hole takes him so well but he tears his eyes away when he hears a pained whimper from you, pausing to search your face.

Your eyes were closed, tears flowing down the side of your face, feeling anything but pain as you looked up at him, eyes glazed over, begging him to continue.

Suddenly twitching at the thought of his impending release, he grinds his hips back into yours. The wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit just right, wrenching another moan from you as you nod at him to keep going.

He starts to thrust again but can tell he's close as his balls begin to draw up, and lower stomach tightens. Skin to skin doesn't seem to be enough when there's a sudden overwhelming need to be closer. He wants to crawl under your skin and embed himself there.

He releases the hold on your legs, letting them ease back to the bed as he drapes himself over you, caging you in. The hair on his chest grazes your nipples with each thrust only adding to your sensations as your hands find purchase on his back.

Holding himself up on one elbow his palm finds your breast, pressing and kneading before his mouth finds the other, sucking a little harshly leaving the top of your chest with a dark reminder as your body arches upward, craving more. His tongue moves over your pebbled nipple before he latches on.

It suddenly feels like he's everywhere all at once. Hands roaming, mouth hot as his cock continues to carve its way into your guts.

He pops off momentarily, sensing a shift in you because he can feel it too.

“You gonna cum with me, honey?” You look up into his eyes, a black abyss. The familiar hazel irises are nowhere to be found. Your best friend now hell bent on ruining you for any other man.

You nod, with a muffled “mmhmm” hoping to God you can finally crest over the precipice.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He hums, hiking your thigh up his hip. Your brows marry with confusion because of the day's earlier blunder.

“It's ok.” He soothes your worry away, large hand gripping your ass as he continues to grind down.

You do as he says, wrapping them around his torso, locking your ankles at the base of his spine. He winces only once before focusing all his concentration on pumping in and out, in and out. Making sure to tilt his pelvis on the upward thrust, simultaneously stimulating that spot deep within you and brushing your clit.

This was it. Fading embers reignited as flames slowly fanned across your lower abdomen. Your brain is all but mush, yearning for a release that only he can provide.

“I'm close.” He hisses out with a grunt, burying his head into your neck. His breath fans hot across you as he starts to whine and mutter. “M’gonna fill this pussy full. F–fuck my goddamn load so far into you. Mmpmh, is that– that’s what you want?”

A few more erratic thrusts before he pushes in so deep that his head is kissing the crown of your cervix. Your walls clamp down around him, holding him in place before his cock twitches and begins to spurt his release into your greedy womb.

Your body reacts suddenly, hot white heat floods your core with the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced. Everything around you seems to fade, as a blinding white light bursts behind your eyelids. Your cunt spasms around him, milking everything he had to give, he groans almost painfully but the sound seems so far away. If you weren't lying underneath him you would have sworn you could float away.

Your chests heave against one another as his body goes limp, crushing you in the best possible way. The lust fueled haze was extinguished with your release, leaving you tired and spent.

His softening dick kicks up a few more times making you whimper as your legs and arms fall away from him, utterly and completely exhausted.

You're pulled out of your blissful afterglow when he pulls your panties from your mouth. Humming as you close your mouth, dry and parched, smacking your lips together softly.

You still had your eyes closed, as his hand comes tp to caress your jaw, thumb running tenderly across the apple of your cheek as you both came down from your highs.

“You ok?” He asked timidly, as you nod with a “mmhmm.”

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” The sweet, caring best friend returning to his senses, as you reply a low “no.”

“Good.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Steve?” Managing to croak out, voice hoarse and rough.

“Hmmnh?” He manages, eyes fixated where the two of you were still connected, finally pulling his softening cock free, your mixed fluids flooding from your spent hole. He had the urge to shove it back in, but stopped himself.

“I was going to jump in first,” you whispered out, as his head shot up to look at you. You were completely dazed, on the verge of sleep.

“What?” He asked, easing himself back, eyes roving over your body littered with bruises and bitemarks. Proof that he hadn't experienced some sort of upside down drug induced hallucination.

“The lake.” You hummed. “Robin stopped me.” Yawning before continuing. “I would've jumped in first.”

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling softly to himself, easing beside you, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face. Spending a few more minutes tangled up in you, before the weight of reality would inevitably come crashing back down.

“Mmhmm. I'd go anywhere with you.” You confess, wrapping your arms around his middle as he pulls you into his chest. If he's being completely honest with himself, he's been in love with you for years. He would've jumped in head first if the tables were turned, he just didn't want anything to happen to you.

“I know, honey. I'd—,” a loud banging at the front door startling you both from your daydream, as he rose up ready for anything.

He hurried to get his clothes back on, throwing your bra and shirt up to you as he walked out into the hall leaving you to get dressed.

He could hear muffled voices behind the door. Your friends had circled back to find you.

Everyone stopped talking as soon as he threw open the door looking a little worse for wear.

“Oh thank God!” Robin was the first to speak, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you?”

“We're fine Rob,” Stepping back and letting them enter the small space, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “The bats chased us here, stuck around a while but we're fine.”

They were all chatting when you finally walked into the room clearing your throat as everyone whipped their heads around, eyes all going a little wide at your appearance.

Robin's gaze flitted your neck, as she sent you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows causing you to pull the collar of your shirt over the exposed skin as your cheeks heated.

“Seriously?!” She smacked Steve's arm, looking wide eyed back to him. “Down here? I mean, it's about time. You've only been dying to confess your feelings for wh—”

“Robin!” He hissed out, cutting off her rambling. “Stop!”

She slapped her hand over her mouth, looking over to your confused expression.

“Can uh, you guys give us a minute?” He asked, hands falling to his hips, as they all looked between each other before heading back out the door. Robin mouthed a “sorry” your way, shutting the door behind her.

“Feelings, huh?” Toeing at a small rock on the floor instead of meeting his gaze.

“Fuck. Well, yeah. It's you. How could I not?” He sighed. “But, we seriously don't ever have to talk about this again. Pretend it never happened and feelings aside, you're still my best friend.”

“What if I don't want to forget?” You bit the inside of your lip as your mouth curled into a shy grin. “And…” Taking a step toward him. “What if I told you I had feelings for you too?”

“Yeah?” He asked, reaching out to haul you in close, as you took another step.

“Yeah.” Your hands taking hold of Eddie's vest, curling into his chest. “And, once we get out of here, maybe we can try all of this again?” His face lit up, as you smiled at him. “Without the raging, horny sex pollen?”

You both huffed a laugh, relaxing into each other.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.” He nods, excitement blooming in his chest.

“C’mon handsome, let's get out of here.” Your hand found his, sending him a small giggle as you pulled him toward the door to rejoin your friends.

Despite the dismal cloud looming above he had a feeling that everything would work out this time.

Tagging a few mooties that might be interested (and please let me know if you don't want to be tagged!): @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @bunnyhargrove @xxbimbobunnyxx

And also: @crybabyddl (since you asked!) 🙂

[wheneverfeasible]

Bullshit (part 3/3)

Third and final part of my angsty Steddie “Bullshit” story where Steve changes himself to try to keep Eddie’s love. I swear the happy ending is finally here everyone! Please put the pitchforks and torches away!

I hope it lives up to expectations and thank you everyone for showing such a keen interest in my story. This final part is LONG and dialogue heavy but hey, at least you finally get the fluff.

Part 1 || Part 2

-

It had been two weeks.

Which, sure, wasn’t the longest they’d gone without seeing each other before due to their lives being hectic, but it had been the longest they’d gone without even so much as a quick goodnight phone call since they finally got together. Steve’s hand had hovered over the phone every night, wanting to call Eddie and apologize and promise to do better, but he was too much of a coward.

Because, you see, as long as they weren’t talking, Steve could still pretend that they were together. He knew though that the moment his resolve crumbled and he called Eddie, or Eddie finally had enough and called him, that it would be over. Eddie would officially break up with him and this time Steve didn’t know how he was going to pick up the pieces.

He loved too much, too quickly, too earnestly. But it was never enough. It was always just bullshit and he didn’t know how to stop it from being bullshit. The first time he hadn’t taken Nancy’s own needs into account, had been too caught up in his own trauma to realize that she needed more than just to pretend that nothing had happened and move on from what couldn’t be changed.

Neither had been in the wrong, of course, both dealing with trauma and guilt in their own way, but in the end they had simply been too incompatible. He hadn’t been what she needed and she hadn’t been what he needed. They couldn’t change that, not even back when that spark between them still burned in an ember. But who they were simply couldn’t change to be what the other needed, or deserved.

So then he tried to change, for Eddie. Once Eddie and he got together, it was obvious they were too different. Their friends had commented on it enough, and then when Steve changed to be worthy of Eddie, they commented on that too. But Steve was fine with changing. He loved Eddie enough to become what would make Eddie happy. He’d do anything to make Eddie happy.

Except he failed. He failed and now he had gone two weeks without speaking to his boyfriend who probably hated him now.

Their friends wouldn’t tell him anything either, not that he really wanted them to know of his failure. Only Robin knew because she had been the first person he had called when Eddie had ran away from him when it became obvious Steve wasn’t good enough.

Robin, who had threatened to make Eddie’s balls into earrings, had muttered about how she’d always known he was trouble, but Steve also remembered how happy Robin had been when she discovered she wasn’t alone. She and Eddie had gotten on like a house on fire, bickering like they’d been siblings all along, and it had been so nice to have both his soulmates so close to him and each other.

He couldn’t let Robin hate Eddie because of Steve’s own failings. So he talked to her, told her it was fine, told her not to hate Eddie just because Steve couldn’t be what he wanted, though that only seemed to make Robin worse.

Until a few days ago.

She had suddenly returned with a smile on her face, and though she seemed impatient at times, she had at least stopped threatening bodily harm towards Eddie. She stopped bringing Eddie up entirely, actually, though she looked like she wanted to say something more than once.

Normally, Steve would have pried it out of her. It would have been easy too. A flash of wide eyes, downturned lips, tilted head, a soft whine to her name, and she’d be spilling state secrets to him…though he already knew all the state secrets that she knew. But she couldn’t hide from her soulmate. Ever since that first bathroom confessional, they were never very good at keeping secrets from each other.

Steve was too tired for that now. He just wanted Eddie. But Eddie didn’t want him.

Because he was bullshit.

Steve was curled on his couch, Dio blasting from the music system, the fancy new CD player rotating the shiny disc over and over again on repeat. Eddie had said he preferred vinyls, so Steve tried to only listen to vinyls when he was around, but Steve enjoyed the way he could set the new CD technology on repeat without having to get up. It let him wallow for longer.

Robin had been by earlier, though she seemed jumpier than normal, constantly looking at her watch. She’d finally jumped out of Steve’s bed they were lounging in and said she had to go about an hour ago, stuttering excuses and refusing to meet his eyes.

He wondered if Robin was beginning to realize he was bullshit too.

He couldn’t blame her. They didn’t really have much in common either. It was only trauma bonding that tied them together, or at least that’s what she had called it a few nights after everything to do with Starcourt, when she’d biked all the way to Loch Nora and pounded on the door until a bewildered Steve had answered.

She’d thrown her arms around Steve then, and he’d realized she’d been crying, and she kept whispering over and over “you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe” as though she needed to reassure herself. Steve had at first thought she was talking about herself, but then he realized she was talking about him.

That particular realization had been electrifying. No one had ever really checked up on him before. But apparently Robin had been unable to sleep, plagued by nightmares of what the Russians had done to Steve, plagued by the what-if’s of Steve not making it out of the underground bunker. It was the first night they slept in the same bed together, but it wasn’t the last.

She’d told him that they were trauma bonded, them and the rest of the group, that no matter how different they were, they would always have each other’s back. That was also the first night she’d called him her soulmate though, making certain he knew she meant it Platonic with a capital ‘P’ and nothing else. Steve realized that it didn’t make it any less important.

But maybe that had been a lie too.

Maybe Robin was beginning to realize that they were too different. That Steve would never be good enough for anyone. Not good enough for his family, not good enough for Dustin, not good enough for Nancy, not good enough for Eddie, and not good enough for Robin. Always wanting, always worthless. Always bullshit.

It was during this spiral that a very polite, though loud, knocking came from the front door. He supposed they had to be loud to be heard over the sounds of Dio, which he had cranked up to try to drown out the thoughts in his head.

Steve rubbed at his eyes, which felt crusty from dried tears, sitting up from where he had collapsed after showing Robin out the door. He’d think that it was Robin returning for something she forgot, a regular occurrence, but she rarely knocked anymore. She typically just let herself in with the spare key he’d given her. He’d given one to Eddie too.

Pushing thoughts of his maybe-still-his-boyfriend away as he hit pause on the music, Steve shuffled towards the front door. He gave a brief tug of his Iron Maiden shirt, which was actually one of Eddie’s, to attempt to make his rumpled appearance look a little more presentable, and then he was swinging the door open to reveal…

Eddie???

Except…it wasn’t an Eddie he recognized. No, this Eddie was wearing an orchid pink polo and light khakis, and…were those Oxford shoes he was wearing?? With a matching belt??? His hair was smoothed fully back and clasped into a professional looking bun and not a single ring adorned his fingers, made obvious by the way Eddie held up a bouquet of roses. Even the ever present pick necklace from absent from Eddie’s neck.

Steve gaped.

“Hello, Steve,” Eddie said, even his voice seemed softer, less wild, and his smile was the sort Steve had seen his father’s business associates give to each other when a good deal had gone through. Happy, pleased, but restrained. Nothing like the manic grins he was used to from Eddie.

“E-Eddie?” he croaked out, absolutely in disbelief. Behind Eddie, Steve could see a station wagon parked where Eddie’s van should be. “What’s going on?”

Eddie held the flowers out towards Steve, who automatically took them. He couldn’t help but give a bemused smile even as he brought them up to smell. Eddie took a deep breath, indicating the foyer with a small motion of his hand.

“Sorry, but may we talk inside?”

This strangely polite version of Eddie was making Steve feel weirdly uncomfortable, so used to the exuberance that normally surrounded the other man. He took a step back, however, because it was Eddie. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest at seeing Eddie again, even if he looked different.

Steve closed the door behind Eddie after the other man stepped forward, though not before wiping his shoes off on the doormat, which Steve could not recall Eddie ever doing before. He felt like he had somehow fallen into an alternate dimension, and not of the Upside Down variety. Maybe that would have been better; he knew how to handle that kind.

“Um…let me put these in water?” Steve said, though it sounded more like a question, at a loss for what was happening right now.

“Of course, sweetheart. Do you mind if I put on the game?”

Sweetheart.

Steve felt a hopeful flutter in his chest and gut at the use of an endearment. Sure, Eddie was no stranger to using such terms in retaliation to bullies or anyone else he disliked, but that was not the tone Eddie used just now. No, he used the tone he always used with Steve, making Steve hopeful towards the idea that he hadn’t actually ruined everything yet.

He was so caught up with that fact that it took him a moment to process the second part of what Eddie said. “Uh…yeah, sure?” he answered with a question again, brows furrowing, as he wondered if he had somehow forgotten that he was supposed to host Eddie’s campaign night that night.

He hurried quickly to the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in, suddenly worried about how his home looked. He hadn’t been expecting to host Dungeons and Dragons, didn’t have the snacking station set up or anything. Did he have enough beverages? Who all was coming tonight? He felt his hosting anxiety start climbing at these questions, as well as the worry that this was a test.

If he failed tonight, would Eddie finally be done with him?

Steve was just settling the vase full of roses on the counter when he heard…was that…?

“Oh come on, Coach! Take him out!” Eddie’s voice filtered through to him as Steve slowly made his way towards the living room. “That asshole is making Gochnaur look like a capable shortstop!”

Was Eddie…watching baseball?

Did Eddie know about John Gochnaur?

What was happening right now?

Steve stood in the doorway leading into the living room, watching with a completely gobsmacked expression as, yes, Eddie was currently watching baseball and giving correct commentary. Steve hadn’t even known Eddie knew what a shortstop did.

Eddie glanced over at Steve and his annoyed expression smoothed into one of happiness. He pat the couch next to him invitingly and Steve could do nothing but walk forward and take his place at Eddie’s side. His furrowed brows shot up into his hairline when Eddie pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he started rattling off statistics of the players on screen like he did monsters during his DnD campaigns as he indicated the probability of home runs and errors.

“What the hell is going on right now?” he mumbled mostly to himself. This was…this was weird. He wasn’t sure he liked this. No, he knew he didn’t like this. Whatever this was, it felt wrong. He turned his head to frown at Eddie who still looked caught up in the game. In sports.

“Eddie, what…” Steve shook his head slightly, wetting his lips. “Why are you watching baseball? Why are you wearing those clothes? You just left the other days and now you look like a completely different person. What is going on?”

Eddie glanced over at Steve, his own brows high into his bangs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Steve. I’m wearing perfectly normal clothing. And sure, it’s only baseball, but it’s not like it’s basketball season yet.”

Eddie paused then, his expression settling into a neutral look for only a moment before slowly morphing to one of pained regret. He sight and hung his head for a moment before grabbing the remote and muting the screen. He then released Steve just enough to turn slightly on the couch to better face him.

“I’m sorry for leaving though, baby. There’s no excuse for just running out on you like that. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just…I had a lot on my mind and I needed to figure some things out. But don’t worry, Stevie. I have it all figured out now and now I can be an even better boyfriend to you,” he finished with a wide grin that looked nothing like his typical crazed charming smile. It looked more like the grins he used to make before he felt comfortable around Steve and the others.

Charming, yes, but not right. Not Eddie.

But Eddie was leaning forwards, brushing one of the limp pieces of his hair that he hadn’t even bothered to style these past two weeks—hell, had barely had the energy to even wash—back behind his ear. He then pressed forward to lightly kiss the tip of Steve’s nose with a smile, and Steve could only smile back. Eddie was here, with him, and that was all that mattered.

Except…

Except.

Eddie’s pink polo was still in his line of vision. It was Eddie, but it wasn’t Eddie at the same time. He looked nothing like the metalhead he loved. Not that there was anything wrong with what he wore now, of course, and honestly seeing Eddie in a polo was kind of hot, but…it wasn’t him.

Steve pulled back, his smile turning back into a small frown. His eyes tracked over Eddie’s outfit. Sure, Eddie looked nice in it, but it was incredibly wrong. The khakis even looked pressed. “But seriously, Eddie, what the hell are you wearing?”

Eddie looked down at his own clothing with a look of not understanding before looking back up at Steve. “I honestly don’t know what you mean. I’m wearing clothing. A shirt and pants I’ve even got underwear on underneath. Though I can wear a lot less of it if you prefer, baby,” he added in that sultry voice that never failed to get Steve going. He’d once accidentally slipped into it while DMing when he narrated a succubus type NPC and Steve had popped a boner right then and there at the table.

And Steve’s dick made a valiant effort to respond now actually, but everything was wrong and Steve didn’t like that. He continued frowning at Eddie.

“Why are you wearing a polo?” he asked more directly, because he knew from experience with Dustin and Robin and even Eddie himself that sometimes you just have to ask directly if you wanted a proper answer. And seriously. A polo?? “Where are your regular clothes. And why are you watching baseball?”

“I like baseball,” Eddie replied easily with a shrug. “It’s not as bad as I thought. I like that the players can have their little music intro. And I wear polos now, they’re surprisingly comfortable.” He gave Steve a gentle smile. “If you don’t want to watch baseball, we can do something else. You wanna put on some music? Have you heard Debbie Gibson’s new song? Truly heartbreaking. I bet it’s on the radio right now.”

Steve just gaped. It was like Eddie was speaking an alien language even though he knew that all that was English and he understood each word separately. All together though, coming from Eddie’s mouth? Yeah, nothing made sense.

“Eddie,” he breathed, slowly reaching out for Eddie’s left hand and feeling another swoop of wrongness at the lack of rings there. “When you said you wanted to put on the game, I thought you meant a campaign. And Debbie Gibson? Babe, you’re in a metal band. Debbie Gibson isn’t cool.”

“Hey! You treat Deb with respect. Girl’s got an excellent voice,” Eddie said with indignation. Steve could only roll his eyes because yeah, he knew that, but Eddie saying something like that? Unreal. It was Eddie’s next words that made him freeze solid, however.

“Besides, I quit the band. Dungeons and Dragons too. Figured I’m too old for that nerd shit. I’m thinking about getting a real job now anyways, so I don’t have time for all that anymore. Actually, do you want to go through the classifieds together with me later? Gareth said he’d try to get me an in with his dad’s company, but it’s better to be prepared.”

Eddie quit the band? Quit Dungeons and Dragons? Was talking about a corporate job? What. The. Fuck.

Steve scrambled up from the couch, his fingers moving up to squeeze the bridge of his nose before both hands settled on his hips as he stared at Eddie in disbelief. “You love Corroded Coffin. And Dungeons and Dragons! Why the hell would you stop doing something you love?”

Something flashed across Eddie’s expression then, something pleased like Steve had said exactly what Eddie had hoped he would, but it was gone the very next instant leaving Eddie simply staring up Steve with wide and imploring eyes.

“But Steve,” he said, and his tone was too earnest that it made Steve pause. “I love you more, and you don’t like those things. So I’ll change, for you.”

The words were like a bucket of ice water thrown back in his face. He couldn’t move, couldn’t react. Couldn’t resist when Eddie reached out and grasped his hand to pull him back to the couch he’d just vacated, pulling him against his side once more.

“You changed for me, so now I’ll change for you,” Eddie said like the solution was obvious. Steve mutely shook his head, but Eddie’s smile was toothy and sharp and so much like the smile he was used to that he couldn’t speak. Which was just as well, since Eddie wasn’t done. “You changed who you were because you loved me so much and didn’t want to lose me. Is it so preposterous to imagine that I love you so much that I’m willing to do the same?”

Yes! Steve wanted to exclaim, wanted to shout and shake Eddie, because of course Eddie didn’t love Steve the same way that Steve loved Eddie; no one ever did.

Well, except maybe Robin. They were Platonic soulmates after all. He knew that he had started doubting her earlier, which made him a little nauseous to do actually, but she had been the only one so far who had never abandoned him. Who seemingly cared for him the same way he cared for her.

But to think he could possibly be blessed with someone who loved him, romantically, that same way? To think that he might be lucky enough to have that sort of fabled love twice? Impossible! Because…because he knew. He knew he wasn’t good enough. He wouldn’t ever be good enough. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t—

“Do you know why I love you, Stevie?” Eddie murmured, cutting off Steve’s thoughts and causing him to stiffen beside him. It wasn’t like he was unused to these declarations; Eddie never really shied away from telling Steve he loved him, though Steve had to fight back the inane temptation to make a bitchy little joke about it like he’d had before, teasingly crediting his ass or how pretty he looked on his knees. Eddie had given them as reasons enough for his love when they’d joked around before, just as Steven had teasingly cited his love as being because of how skilled Eddie’s fingers were, or the talent of his mouth.

He could sense, however, that trying to trivialize the moment would not go well this time. No, Eddie was looking at him earnestly once more, was reaching out again for Steve’s hand to hold and clutch between both of his against his chest. He thankfully did not seem like he was expecting an answer from Steve.

“It’s because you thought about my safety first, back then, at Skull Rock, even after I’d shoved a broken bottle at your neck. Even though we ran in two totally different circles, you immediately put me as a priority. It’s because you didn’t hesitate to jump into the water, not in belittlement of Wheeler and Buckley for being girls, or me for being…well, me…but simply because you were aware of your own qualifications and knew you were best for the job.

“It’s because, at the first real opportunity of being relatively alone with me, you immediately thanked me for coming to help you after you’d been pulled under, like there had been any other option. As if it wasn’t a given that you deserved to be made a priority too.”

Eddie paused then, thickly swallowed as his eyes closed momentarily. “Though you totally saved your own ass there, tearing that bitch apart with your bare hands. You’re a total badass, sweetheart,” he rumbled, the heat of hungry appreciation in his voice. “Wrapped up in soft yellow sweaters and ridiculously styled hair.”

Opening his eyes to look at Steve again, Steve could see some of that (still surprising) hunger lingering. Because yeah, he knew now that Eddie had near creamed his pants when he’d pulled an Ozzy with the demobat, and even though he questioned his boyfriend’s tastes at time, he was also always so gleeful to know that Eddie thought him sexy as hell.

But it was more than just that, and Steve felt his heart hammering away beneath his ribcage as Eddie kept going on, singing his praises as if Steve was truly something to be admired.

“It’s because,” Eddie continued saying, bringing Steve’s hand up to lightly nuzzle against his knuckles, “you always put everyone else first, even if you hide it behind your bitchy little snide words. Because you care about everyone else and would throw yourself directly into the path of danger to protect them. Protect us. And more than that, you take care of everyone around you, whether they show their gratitude or not. Dustin wasn’t wrong when he talked about how great you are.

“It’s because…” Eddie drew in another shuddering breath, his eyes wide and deep with emotion. “It’s because, when you look at me, you see me, not just another trailer trash failure who couldn’t even properly graduate high school. You see someone worth loving.”

“Eddie,” Steve broke in then with a cracked voice, his guilt unable to keep him quiet. “You were right about me, though. I was a douchebag. Even about you I was an asshole until everything went down. I called you a freak, and I didn’t try hard enough to stop Tommy from attacking you or the others, and I only cared about myself back then. I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said with a shake of his head. “I won’t deny past dickishness, but I’m not so innocent either,” he pointed out. “I held my own prejudices, my own selfishness. I ostracized Lucas for daring to like sports, I nearly abandoned my bandmates the first time I thought I could make it solo, and I continually ran away when things got tough or hard, try as hard as I did to pretend otherwise.”

Eddie released Steve’s hand from one of his own so that he could snake it behind Steve’s neck to pull him in for a gentle kiss. Steve melted into it, terrified Eddie would eventually leave him still, while also taking great comfort in the kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, that much he was certain.

“You love with your whole heart, Stevie,” Eddie whispered when he finally pulled away. “I will never be able to apologize enough for taking advantage of that, for not realizing what was going on.” He dropped his gaze to the Iron Maiden shirt Steve was wearing, sliding his hand from Steve’s neck to his chest. “The fact that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough exactly as you are will always haunt me.”

Steve didn’t want Eddie sad. He didn’t want Eddie to blame himself for Steve not being enough. He couldn’t get the words out though, not when Eddie looked so utterly heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry, baby. And I’m so sorry for leaving. I just…I realized what I did to you and I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

Steve was horrified by the tears that began flooding Eddie’s eyes, causing him to reach out with his own freed hand pull Eddie in by his polo for another kiss. He didn’t understand what was going on, but…but…

Was Eddie truly not upset with him?

“Christ, baby,” Eddie murmured against his lips. “I love you in your polos. I love you listening to your own music in the car, the way your hair flops about as you jam out to Queen and Wham! and even Cydni fucking Lauper. I love how passionate you get about sports, the way you fuss over Henderson and the others, the way you call out other people’s shit. I love all of you, not in spite of you.”

Eddie pulled back to look properly at Steve, and this time it was Steve with tears brimming in his eyes. Everything Eddie said was like a revelation because the tone of Eddie’s voice, the look in Eddie’s eyes…he meant them.

“But…we’re so different,” he protested, because how was he supposed to accept that when they were nothing alike? Certainly Eddie had to have some regrets, or wish for some changes.

“Steve,” Eddie said on a near whine. “Of course we’re different. We’re different people.” He shook his head suddenly, taking a deep breath. He then reached out and caught Steve’s chin to force him to look at him, catching his eyes with his own. “Do you love me any less for being different than you?”

“No!” Steve yelled aghast. How could Eddie ever think that?

“Then why do you think I would ever love you less for the same?”

Steve opened his mouth, ready to protest again, except…except he didn’t really have an answer to that. Not beyond the fact that he would always be less than. Less than Eddie, less than the kids, less than everyone else he ever cared about.

Except…

Except.

The way Eddie was staring at him now, the way Eddie’s own pain reflected in his dark brown eyes, didn’t make Steve feel like he was lesser. Eddie had never made him feel lesser, actually. Eddie had instead made him feel like…like he mattered. Like he was something worth cherishing. Like…like he was loved.

“I…I don’t know,” Steve admitted, voice cracking, and the tears he’d been keeping at bay slowly spilled over and slid down his cheeks.

Eddie cupped his jaw with both hands then, and though his tears didn’t fall, he sniffled in a way that revealed that it was a very near thing. “I love you so much, baby. I was so ecstatic that you loved me too, that you seemed to be willing to take interest in the things I loved, that I didn’t realize I never did the same. I thought you were trying to figure out who you were, I never noticed that you stopped being you.

“I don’t want you to be just another metalhead who likes everything I like. I want you to be your own person, to like the things you like even if I don’t like them. I want to meet you in the middle of who we are, not a compromise, but as a sign of our love. I’ll take you to metal concerts and you can take me to sports games, even the ones with laundry baskets,” he gently teased. “Any of them, I don’t care. As long as I’m with you doing things you love, I’ll be happy. Because you make me happy, sweetheart.”

Steve’s eyes darted away, eyes catching on the screen where one of the players just stole a base and made themselves that much closer to winning the game, before looking back at Eddie. He didn’t see anything false in his expression, only genuine, hopeful sincerity. Like he truly meant his words.

“I’m fine doing whatever you want,” he mumbled. “You don’t need to sacrifice anything.”

“Baby,” Eddie implored. “It’s not a sacrifice to be with you. You’re so perfect for me, just like you are. Like you truly are. I fell in love with you not because of what you can give me, but because of who you are. I never thought you were actually trying to change to be who you thought I wanted you to be. Because I just want you, baby. If you still want me.”

“Of course I want you,” Steve murmured immediately, his hands moving to claps at Eddie’s forearms. “I’ll always want you.”

Eddie grinned at him, though it was still emotional. He at least managed to keep his tears at bay, blinking rapidly until there wasn’t fear of them falling anymore. He leaned in then to press a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead, his thumbs lightly stroking over Steve’s cheeks. “And I’ll always want you. Hell, baby, I’d marry you right now if it were legal.”

That got Steve’s attention.

He pulled back again, pulling Eddie’s hands from his face to stare at his boyfriend with wide eyes. Again there was only sincerity in Eddie’s gaze, and patience, as he let Steve process and work through his words. To understand just how much Eddie meant it.

Eddie loved him. He knew this of course, but…hell, they hadn’t been dating all that long, all things considered, and he’d once heard Eddie denounce marriage as just another conformist expectation used to take your individuality away, but here was Eddie saying he would marry him if given the chance. He knew Eddie wouldn’t say something like that unless he truly meant it too. Eddie loved him.

“But…we’re so different, Eddie,” he repeated in barely more than a whisper. “A-and I don’t want you to quit your band or Dungeons and Dragons or anything like that for me. I don’t want you conforming for me.”

Eddie just grinned again, his expression so full of love for Steve that it made Steve almost physically ache. “And I don’t want you changing for me,” he simply said, and…and maybe Steve was starting to get that, but…

“But you were so happy when I started listening to metal, and not all of it is bad,” Steve admitted. “I actually liked some of it. More than I thought I would.”

“I was happy,” Eddie admitted right back, letting out a soft sigh. “I was happy to share something with you, happy to help you develop your interest since I thought it was something you wanted. I didn’t mean to push it on you. I was just…I thought that if we had a shared interest like that, you wouldn’t decide I was too much. When you started dressing like this…”

Eddie moved to lightly tug at the hem of Steve’s shirt. “I had been so terrified that you would realize you could do better than someone like me,” he whispered. “Having you not be put off by the way I dressed, by the music I liked, by anything I liked made me happy because it calmed my fears that I’d scare you off or something, that you’d move on to greener and better pastures.”

And that was just not right. Better than Eddie? Someone like that simply didn’t exist. And all because Eddie liked a certain kind of music, or dressed a certain way? Absolutely not.

“Eddie,” Steve breathed, and this time it was him reaching out to cup Eddie’s cheek to make him look at him properly again. “You’re so amazing, Eddie. How in the world could someone better than you exist? You’re a fucking hero, man. And don’t say you’re not,” he said firmly when Eddie opened his mouth to say just that, like he always did when it got brought up. “You are. You’re brave and selfless and literally out your life in the line to protect others. You’re badass, baby. Just like me,” he grinned in tease.

Eddie softly snorted, placing his hand over Steve’s on his cheek so he could hold it as he turned his head slightly to kiss the palm. “You are a badass,” Eddie agreed. “And you’re sweet too, even though you deny that too. I love you so much, and I should have paid more attention to why you were suddenly into all the same things I was instead of just being happy to share them with you.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand, placing another soft kiss to his palm before trailing his lips into gentle kisses against his fingertips. “And I should have done more to meet you halfway. I should have been doing this from the start,” he admitted, indicating the muted TV. “You were always willing to join my hobbies but I never even offered to join yours. I’m truly very sorry, baby.”

“Please stop apologizing,” Steve complained. “I forgive you, okay? It’s just…you’re…” Steve swallowed, making himself actually stop and consider Eddie’s words, their meaning, their truth. “I’d love you even if you always hated sports,” he said softly, a small light of understanding settling over him. Because if he could love Eddie without needing Eddie to like everything he liked…

“Then can’t I love you even if you hate the things I like?” Eddie murmured, as if finishing his thought for him. “I don’t need you to be a carbon copy of my interests, baby. I love you for you, Steve. I’ve missed your polos and your preppy look,” he grinned. “It’s hot.”

Steve flushed slightly at that, Eddie’s eyes telling him again just how truthful those words were. He hadn’t ever once considered that Eddie actually liked that part of him, not when Eddie always wore dark clothing and looked the way he did. They were so different…

His eyes moved once more over Eddie, taking in that ridiculously pink polo and khaki pants, so unlike the things Eddie would wear but so similar to something Steve would. And…yeah, okay, that was hot, but he didn’t want Eddie to wear it all the time because it just wasn’t him. If Eddie wanted to then of course he’d never say anything about it, but he would miss the way his metalhead usually looked. Like…the way Steve looked now, while Eddie…Eddie looked like how he would have normally dressed.

Because Eddie said he would change for Steve, would give up the things he loved, just to keep Steve happy. But Steve didn’t need that to be happy. He was happy just to have Eddie, exactly the way he was, without Eddie pretending to be something he wasn’t. He didn’t want Eddie to change for him, even though…yeah he would like to be able to share his own interests with Eddie sometimes. And maybe…

Maybe, if Eddie had started dressing like that gradually, started expressing interest in Steve’s hobbies slowly, he wouldn’t notice how much Eddie had been changing to try to fit in with him. Maybe he would have just assumed Eddie was genuinely branching out his own interests because he felt safe enough to do so without being ridiculed, like…like Steve had slowly done.

But Eddie had appeared so drastically changed that Steve couldn’t help but rebel against it, couldn’t help but clock it as wrong, could only see it for what it was:

Bullshit.

Steve grinned suddenly at that revelation. A bright happiness began filling him until he felt like he was full of fizzy soda and Pop Rocks. He realized that it was bullshit, but he wasn’t. What was bullshit wasn’t his love, or his inability to be exactly like Eddie, but the fact that he tried to be someone he wasn’t. Him trying to change who he was was bullshit. Because Eddie?

Eddie loved him anyways. Eddie loved him even if he was an ex-jock prep who cared about his appearance maybe a little too much, who cared about keeping his home and car clean, who listened to popular catchy music on the radio simply because it was fun. Eddie had fallen in love with Steve because of who he was, not who he could change himself into becoming.

Eddie loved him. And love like that could never be bullshit.

When Steve finally looked Eddie in the eyes again, truly looked and saw and heard everything Eddie had been trying to tell him, he felt tears escape down his cheeks again but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Because he got it now. He understood. Eddie hadn’t wanted him to change, he had just been supporting Steve in what he thought Steve wanted.

“I’m such an idiot,” Steve wetly laughed, throwing his arms around Eddie to bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Hey now, don’t insult my husband like that,” Eddie admonished, but his words sounded wet too as his own arms moved to wrap around Steve’s back and hold him close.

“We’re not married yet, asshole. You didn’t even ask me,” he pointed out with a giddy roll of his eyes.

“Right, right, silly me,” Eddie said, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice. “Guess I better go buy a ring first. And ask Buckley for her blessing.” Eddie drew in a shaky breath before huffing it out in a laugh. “Maybe she’ll let me keep my balls now.”

Steve pulled back with a confused furrow to his brows. He hadn’t told Eddie that his balls were in any danger.

When Eddie caught his expression, Eddie rolled his eyes next. “After I left, I spent probably a week trying to process everything, trying to figure out where I went wrong and horrified with myself for unknowingly encouraging you into changing for me, going over every little thing I fucked up. Then Buckley showed up and read me the fucking riot act.” He shuddered. “She’s terrifying.”

“I told her not to do that,” Steve frowned, though his lips twitched at his boyfriend’s dramatics. Christ, he loved him so much. And Eddie, somehow, apparently loved him just as much.

“Well I’m glad she did,” Eddie said with a small chuckle and shake of his head. “We came up with all this together,” he added with an indication of his clothing and the TV. “She heard my side of things and realized that if there’s an idiot in our relationship, it’s me. And then we came up with this plan to show you why I’d never want you to be someone you weren’t. Figured if I showed up completely changed too, you’d realize why it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Anxiety hit Steve suddenly and he stared at Eddie with wide eyes. “Wait, you didn’t actually quit the band, did you? Eddie!”

“No, no, not really.” Eddie paused. “Mostly.” He gave a little wincing smile at Steve’s fierce glare. “I told them what I was going to do, as well as saying that I may end up actually quitting if that’s what you needed of me. Because I meant it, Stevie,” he added with his own fierceness. “I love you more than I love being in the band or anything else. You’re it for me, hot stuff.”

“You are an idiot,” Steve groaned, and he didn’t know if he should be upset with Eddie, relieved, or insanely happy. He somehow felt all three at once, giving Eddie’s arm a small slap. “But I am absolutely determined to have a hot and talented famous rockstar boyfriend, Munson, so you better not quit. Or I’m dumping your ass for Jeff,” he said with a wicked little grin.

“Betrayal!” Eddie gasped, his hand moving to clutch at his shirt over his heart, falling back against the couch cushions dramatically.

Steve merely rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t keep the deliriously happy smile off his face because this was his boyfriend. This dramatic, goofy, absolute loser of a man. He was so fucking lucky.

“And that station wagon out front?” he asked, eyebrow arching.

“Borrowed,” Eddie grinned, propping himself up with an elbow to look at Steve. “Jeff’s mom’s. Really had to make it authentic, ya know?”

“And the baseball knowledge?”

Eddie laughed at that. “Wayne gave me some pointers. I think he was ecstatic to finally be able to talk to me about sports knowing I would listen. He also says we’re all watching the season finale together.”

Steve just rolled his eyes. “It’s called the World Series, asshole.”

“Kind of pretentious to call it that, don’tcha think, seeing as how it’s only America playing?”

Letting out a huff, Steve crawled over Eddie to look down at him, straddling a thigh as both his brows raised high over his forehead. “You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that. But…” Steve’s expression softened into a small, almost shy smile. “Thank you. For loving me.”

Eddie smiled back up at Steve, settling back against the couch cushions and bringing his arms up to lightly hook over his shoulders and crossing them behind Steve’s neck. “Thank you for letting me,” he replied simply. “Now, will you please go back to my preppy sexy boyfriend who listens to ABBA and complains about bad hair days? I miss him dreadfully.”

Steve felt his happiness bubbling up inside him again, grinning down at Eddie before leaning in to take his lips in a giddy kiss. “Maybe you should take your Iron Maiden shirt back then, right now,” he murmured meaningfully against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie grinned beneath him. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed. “And get this pink monstrosity off too.”

Steve pulled back at that, planting his hand flat on Eddie’s chest to stop him from moving to do just that, causing Eddie to still beneath him. Steve slid his gaze over said pink monstrosity, wetting his lips with darkening eyes.

“No,” he murmured, voice roughened as he slid his gaze back up to Eddie’s widening eyes, a soft pink flush entering pale cheeks. “Keep it on.”

And he did.

At least until it was too ruined to be saved. But they could always buy Eddie another polo later.

Steve’s insecurities weren’t magically gone from one conversation, of course, but it proved to be a great start. There were still moments when Steve felt like he wasn’t good enough, but it helped to know that Eddie felt the same way at times too, that they were both so in love and would do anything for the other person.

After that day, the two worked together to find a new middle ground. Steve still supported Corroded Coffin at all their shows, wearing their shirts and other merch frequently, and even kept his studded leather bracelet that matched Eddie’s own. He went back to wearing his polos in his day-to-day life, however, and styling his hair with near ridiculous amounts of hairspray.

They talked about their hobbies, with Eddie making a mix tape of the metal songs that Steve actually ended up liking, and Eddie even found enjoyment in playing the occasional game of ball with Steve and even Lucas and the others sometimes joined in. (Sure, he mostly liked the way Steve looked all sweaty and flushed with exertion, but he had some genuine fun shooting balls into “laundry baskets” all the same too.)

They made compromises in the movies they watched, the foods they ate, and Steve took on a more passive role during DnD nights. His character decided to strike out on his own, in story, though he would occasionally rejoin the adventurers when their paths crossed, allowing Steve to play when he felt in the mood and sit out when he wasn’t. Steve had even cajoled Nancy into rejoining the game with him sometimes, much to the Party’s (especially Dustin’s) delight.

Eddie never really took to polos for regular wear, though he did wear the occasional Henley and Steve had convinced Eddie to take better care of his hair, helping his boyfriend set up a couple different routines based on the time frame he had to work with before events or daily life, earning numerous compliments on the healthy curls he now regularly sported. Steve loved the mornings where they got to primp together, and even Eddie flushed with happiness when they caught each other’s eyes in the mirror or helped each other fluff their hair.

Eddie also summoned the Party and acted like a drill sergeant as he commanded each of them to give Steve’s car a deep cleaning and detailing, shampooing and vacuuming and waxing the inside and outside until the BMW gleamed like practically new. He also helped enforce the rules about leaving no mess behind, either by forbidding open food containers or by picking up after themselves. Steve was so impressed by it that he couldn’t help dirtying the car a little again by taking Eddie into the backseat after everything.

They took down the posters and flyers and random crap that covered Steve’s walls, though Steve kept up the Black Sabbath and Dio posters, even if he made Eddie straighten them up. He also kept up the Corroded Coffin flag Eddie had made him, though he began adding his own decorations as well through encouragement from Eddie. Eddie even got him a banner for his favorite sports team, hanging it up right next to the Corroded Coffin flag. (Later, when Steve eventually moved out of his parents’ abandoned house, Eddie would cut a swatch of the wallpaper from the wall, framing the bit of plaid for Steve to carrying with them to their eventual shared home.)

Robin was a menace, of course, and continually made passing comments about needing earrings. The threat was not lost on Eddie and he always made certain he showered Steve in praise and confirmed his love for him whenever Robin gave him the stink eye. Steve may or may not sometimes signal when he wanted the threat made, especially around important dates like holidays and anniversaries.

And Eddie did make good on his comment about asking Robin’s permission for a certain question, though in his nervousness and excitement he fumbled actually asking Steve for forever and instead accidentally threw the ring at Steve one night after a dinner he’d tried to make but inevitably burned. They ordered take out and laughed about it, then Steve made certain Eddie never had to doubt his ‘yes’ right there in the kitchen. And living room. And bedroom. And then for good measure in the shower.

Steve always remained a prep, and Eddie always remained a metalhead, but over the years they slowly adopted and adapted bits and pieces of each other’s style, though Eddie couldn’t ever wear a polo to tease Steve without Steve immediately dragging him into bed. Or to the nearest flat surface.

There were days that the insecurities would crop up still, of course, for both of them. These days grew less over the years, the commitment Steve and Eddie felt for each other reflected in the matching rings they wore, exchanged during a small ceremony that, though not legal in the eyes of the law, was no less absolute in their hearts.

Because Steve knew now what those insecurities were, what the voice was that whispered that he would never be good enough for anyone, and he knew what to say when they tried to tear him down. And he would smile when he said it, safe, content, and secure in his and Eddie’s love.

“Bullshit.”

-

As I said before, I am tagging everyone who asked to be tagged, so if I’ve accidentally missed you or tagged the wrong person, I apologize. It’s a lot of people. Heh.

Tagged: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @petalsandpixels @coolgirldad @xxbottlecapx @yesdangerpls @lawrencebshoggoth @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @miss-wright

@brainsteddielyrotted @nerdyglassescheeseychick @ohimamarigold @sofadofax @moss-g0blin @secretly-kait @blossomingblueberries @my-love-of-books @blounette @p0lybl4nkk

@sapphicsforsteve @wearespacedust @mae-liz @stripey82 @tinyplanet95 @0mochiia0 @sunnycycle @jaytriesstrangerthings @hotluncheddie @dragonmama76

@stevieschrodinger @townseleven @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @novacorpsrecruit @mugloversonly @imaginary-maggie-waggie @pointlessmosswitch @fatiguedclown @prazinos

@thedragonsaunt @bookworm0690 @brazenliar @samsoble @wrenisflying @queenie-ofthe-void @breealtair @highqueenhalalie @steddieassheg0es @theintrovertedintrovert

(rest of tags will be in a reblog, did not realize how many I had agreed to lol my bad)