#but. man. i thought i had POSTED it but APPARENTLY NOT

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Scout's Honor -

Original Space Marine (Ultramarine) x GN!Reader

Tags: Dubious consent, space marine not knowing his own strength (blood), rutting behaviors, gets a bit spicy but the clothes stay on

First time posting my writing here as a newer WH40k fan (and possibly my first time writing 2nd person), this one being heavily inspired by @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond's The Bellowing, @jaghatai-khock's Rutting Season, @kit-williams's Space Marine Husbandry Bonds, and general rut/bond dynamics. This will probably become a series oops

- - -

The 10th company barracks had been unusually quiet for days with the absence of the more experienced scout squads, those who were no longer neophytes with the completion of their bio-augmentation but lacked the rank of battle-brother, still on the proving grounds of combat. With your assigned squadrons away, you had to admit it was a lot more boring to walk the halls performing your duties. 

You were not the most efficient or devout serf, and while that quality had protected you by keeping your head down upon the slaver ship, you had worried your rescuers would not take so kindly to those qualities. To your surprise, however, you found your place serving the Scions of Ultramar to be comfortable. Even if the recruits had forgotten whatever previous human life they had, they were rowdy and playful as any young man would be, and the centuries old officers were of a patient temperament. Listening to the chatter of the Astartes was the most interesting part of your day, their jests and discipline alike. 

There were only a handful of neophytes milling about and polishing their armor, so you decided to take advantage of most of the company’s absence to clean the barracks without getting underfoot. The thing that may have tipped you off to something out of the ordinary was the lack of other serfs as well, but at the time you paid it no mind, especially when there was nobody to fuss at you for not wanting to haul around a stepladder to reach the corners of Astartes-sized living quarters. 

Room to room you scrubbed away the soot left from long hours of burning candles and incense, climbing precariously up onto the edges of cots to wipe film from the walls and ceilings. Humming to yourself let you pass the time in peace, methodically going about your work and restocking incense where it was needed. 

That was until you were reaching up for a particularly stubborn stain and you were suddenly crushed to the wall you were supporting yourself against with the force of being run over by a tank. 

Your head smacked hard against the metal and your knees buckled, eyes watering as white hot pain shot through your nose, some huge growling mass huffing hot breaths into your ear. Panic quickly overtook you, uselessly squirming against the beast enveloping your form. Defying an angel would surely get you punished, but that didn’t cross your mind when acrid animal fear clouded your thoughts.

“Hey! Down!” You barked with all the air that hadn’t been pressed out of your lungs, tone scolding and authoritative with the memory of your family’s dogs from long ago. To your shock, it seemed to work. The weight retreated and you crumpled to your knees on the cot, heart jackrabbiting as you turned to see what manner of creature had jumped on you like prey. 

A scout marine perched on the edge of the bunk, still clutching your calves and looking like he’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, apparently freshly showered judging from his wet hair and fatigues. How someone so large could ambush you so silently was no longer a mystery. You recognized him as a member of Sergeant Telion’s squad though his name escaped you, a familiar face as one of the men whose belongings you tended to, a sniper with no small amount of talent praised for his composure and calmness. And you were in his room. 

“Oh sh— I’m so sorry, my sincerest apologies sir— my lord angel, I must excuse myself—“ Frantically you looked to the floor for the rest of your cleaning supplies to grab and make a break for it, but your plans were halted by a loud, forlorn whine. 

The scout’s brown eyes were huge and wet, taking on a glassy quality from shame and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Some unfocused desperation as he looked pleadingly up at you, his hands retreating to give your ankles a squeeze. 

“Uh— easy, there… I’m not mad.” More than a little bewildered, you ever so slowly turned to sit on the cot to face the man, feeling a twinge at the pathetic look on his face as if he hadn’t just pounced on you. Did he want to be comforted or something?

Just as slowly you reached out, and things were a bit more clear when he met your hand halfway by leaning in to nuzzle against it, chuffing happily. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity. Sure, there was some arguably pack-like behavior amongst the squadrons, but this marine was practically a puppy. 

“That’s it, you’re okay.” Petting his damp scruffy crew cut, you listened to what could be mistaken for the distant rumble of thunder grow into a purr that vibrated through your whole body. You thought that perhaps you had appeased the beast for a moment before he climbed up onto the cot and into your space, shoving his face into yours with superhuman speed. 

Lips and tongue intruded on your mouth and nose, making you sputter in shock as the scout lapped at your face, making you taste something metallic. You gasped and tried to wipe away the saliva, making the marine retreat long enough for you to see him lick blood off his teeth. Where did… oh, your nose had been bleeding from the impact. Fuck.

“Is this your way of saying sorry? Hey, gentle.” Gingerly scratching at his scalp, the licking eased up to something more like dog kisses on your cheek as the scout crowded his way practically into your lap. Fear almost entirely forgotten, there was something pleasant about the warm solid presence once again pinning you in place. “…Good boy.”

Physical affection was something you assumed to be a thing of the past. There was little time for it amongst the serfs when so much was taken up by work and prayer, you couldn’t help but bask in it even as the scout shifted to practically laying on top of you, wrapping his arms around your chest. Warmth and presence and deep breathing, comforts you had almost forgotten. 

The marine’s warm tongue traveled downwards, lingering on your jaw before his face was abruptly stuffed into the crook of your neck, drawing a breathless and undignified yelp from your throat. Lips and teeth sank into your trapezius, undoubtedly worrying dark marks into your skin between desperate huffs of hot breath. That also drew your attention to his meaty thighs straddling yours, and the jerky movement of his hips. 

How would this look? Remembering yourself and your station you wriggled experimentally, breath ragged and face heating from the movement and teasing mouth. It was no use; there was no escape from underneath a fully grown Astartes. If you called out for someone to get this brute off there was a good chance of you being implicated, possibly blamed as some sort of corrupting force to the future of the Ultramarines. It was probably best to ride out the scout’s affections. 

Honestly… in that moment you didn’t quite feel like complaining. Touch starvation could be a potent thing, and despite his size and weight the marine held you tenderly, his body enveloping yours in warmth and the smell of fresh linens and something… strange and syrupy. Your head spun, small clipped groans slipping from between your teeth as the man atop you bit and sucked the flesh between his, the ache it left feeling tingly and… pleasurable. There was a heat low in your gut, the friction of your trousers rubbing against his becoming dizzying. 

You hadn’t been touched like this in so long… sweet purring sent a rumble through your chest that made your limbs feel numb… you couldn’t properly clamp down on the noise you made as his hand pressed down on your stomach…

“Aristaeus, what do you have?” The scout froze, finally pulling away from your neck to cover you with his body, apparently trying to hide you from the booming voice about where you remembered the open doorway being. “Let me see.”

A drawn out whine reverberated through your chest but his mass retreated, allowing you to tip your head back and try to make out the fuzzy upside down figure behind you. 

“Se-Sergeant…?” You croaked, blinking dazedly as you recognized the elderly Astartes. He raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose

“Brother Aristaeus, give them to me.” Another whine. Despite the terrifying sensation of being caught, you realized the tone Sergeant Telion used; handling a disobedient dog. “Now, please.”

The weight holding you in place lifted at the same moment you were grabbed by the back of your tunic and hauled into the air, carried away by a speed walking and very miffed Scout Sergeant. 

“I’m— I’m sorry my lord, I was cleaning the scouts’ quarters and—“

“Were you not told?” Sergeant Telion muttered, fixing you with his mechanical eye. 

“Told what? I mean, no sir— my lord, I wasn’t.” You floundered, limp as a scruffed kitten. 

Telion sighed wearily, pushing open the door to what you vaguely remembered to be the debriefing room. “To stay out of sight.” He set you on the table to better fix you with his stare, steady and unwavering as any master marksman would be. 

“…No, lord angel. I was unaware I wasn’t permitted to go about my duties as usual. Most of the serfs here are— what I mean to say is, I may not be inundated with everything, as I arrived a few months ago.” Undoubtedly there were already marks blooming on your neck that the Sergeant had seen, but you clasped a hand over your throat, self conscious and feeling just as trapped as if he had been holding you there. 

“Mm. I will have to discuss this with the Master of Reconnaissance. Unfortunate, we haven’t had such complications for a while.” Stroking his beard, Telion began to turn away. 

“Please my lord, I apologize for any complications I have caused, forgive my transgressions!” Complications. Ice ran down your spine as you imagined any number of punishments you could face, clasping your hands to try and disguise your trembling. Going back to the Drukhari was a preferable fate to becoming a servitor.

“It’s alright, this is the result of oversight, not you.” His bushy white brows furrowed. “Although I regret to inform you that your role as a serf will be changing. A first rut bond must not interfere with training.”

[starbylers]

Will Byers main character of season 5 “emotional arc tying up the show”, mysterious connection to the main villain AND the supernatural lore, “it started with Will and it’ll end with Will”, outstanding questions surrounding his disappearance which kicked off the entire show coming full circle, written for seasons as slowly falling in love with his best friend and that point being driven home extremely hard the season before His season….that Will Byers….is NOT ending up with some random side character lol. If you think that’s the most likely outcome I’m sorry but you haven’t been paying attention.

Like truly how do people envision that scenario? Will spends the season going through presumably life changing events grappling with his identity and fighting these deadly supernatural forces alongside the people he’s most closely bonded with in the entire world including his best friend who he is literally in love with and who’s relationship with him is obviously going to be important, full on saving the world in conjunction with his personal coming of age…and then when it’s over he just trots off with cute guy #373848 who has fuck all to do with any of this, or with the story of the show, who Will absolutely would not have had time to build a convincing relationship with given all of the above. A few scenes of what, someone flirting with him? Being nice, being friendly? does not an endgame make for someone who’s not only the main focus of the season but integral to the core mystery of the show. The love interest of a character like that would need to be front and centre alongside him (oh wait…..).

And in what universe could random new side guy compare to and in fact overtake - because that’s what they’d have to pull off - the depth of his relationship with the boy he currently loves, his best friend?? There’s no time or set up for that. Will is a main character. Even Robin - who I adore but she does play a much more minor role - gets a two season love interest who’s involved with the main cast, and don’t get me started on all the complex multi season straight relationships.

An endgame relationship for Will was never going to be an afterthought. The sentiments of I hope the Duffers are brave enough to go for Byler or they’ll just give Will someone else makes no sense to me because this has been planned for YEARS 😭 they were not making season 4 with their minds undecided about Mike and Will’s fate. They were not sitting in the writer’s room like oooh this is fun and messy let’s just slap in this major plot point between two main characters and figure out why tf we did it at a later date.

They made Will, the boy at the centre of everything, love Mike so intensely while actively not presenting a single other viable option (and having him grouped up with Mike yet again next season), KNOWING from the first introduction of Will’s feelings how it was going to turn out. If they planned all along for him to end up with someone else, there would be set up (à la Rovickie but honestly more than that, probably someone who could’ve taken Argyle’s place, or at the VERY least show signs of him letting Mike go). Meanwhile by s4 finale, there’s no other candidate in sight and his heart remains with Mike more devoted than ever like ?????

Will is important. His love is important. I’m so over people trying to downplay the legitimacy of his emotions toward Mike. Gay characters feelings aren’t disposable just because they inconvenience a straight ship, and the Duffers didn’t put Will in this position without an end goal in mind. You decide what makes more sense with what they’ve shown us so far. If you can see the threads (and not see certain other threads) it’s for a reason. Writing is intentional.

[wingsofwater]

purple is life’s favorite color

[ID : a digital full body drawing of mangrove from wings of fire. mangrove is a fluffy rainwing dragon with feathery antenna and horns that look like branches. he is colored in shades of purples, cool blues and greys. mangrove is facing to the left with his head tilted away from the viewer, wings curled around himself with his face set in a distant, subdued expression. there are realistic images of purple anemone flowers and lavender placed around him, and the background is a reverse black-and-white image of forget-me-not flowers, tinted purple and yellow. END ID]

[wingless vers. under cut]

[ID : the same image as above, though mangrove’s wings have been removed and flowers repositioned, revealing his underbelly. END ID]

[billpottsismygf]

Scrolling through my old posts to check my current companion tags and I found my reaction to the series 8 trailer and it's so wild seeing me of 10 years ago say I'm not convinced by Peter Capaldi yet, who is my favourite Doctor of all time.

Like, I know he takes a while to warm up and I know it took me even longer to emotionally accept the fact that David Tennant had been knocked off the top spot, but it's just so weird to see!

[shitpostingfromthebarricade]

WIP Title Game

I was tagged by @riotstarruika!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

(I had to censor the one because it's such a specific ship that when it gets anonymously posted for an exchange in a couple of days I don't want everyone to immediately know it's me.)

Tagging @saintmouthed @akallabeth-joie @opens-up-4-nobody @fremedon @everyonewasabird and @riotstarruika again, since it's been so long that you probably have entirely new WIPs by now. XD

[yakourinka]

hmm

[killjoy-prince]

Ray's After Ending is so funny because for a good chunk of it, most of the RFA members are knocked out by V's sleeping gas (Saeran is immune, Saeyoung isn't present bc he was kidnapped by his agency under his father's orders and MC wakes up in like an hour) but the game has a call feature where you can call the characters and it would be a waste if you couldn't use it bc the characters were unavailable so instead they have other people pick up the call (Jumin's driver picks up Jumin's phone, Jumin's father picks up Zen's phone, Yoosung's friends and mom pick up Yoosung's phone and Jaehee's coworkers pick up Jaehee's phone) and we do get to learn about the characters from outsider's point of view but it's so funny to me that these people are visiting their loved ones and suddenly the phone rings and they decide to just. answer it. and start talking to this stranger they've never met

[morsobaby]

When I was a very small child I remember this one time we were in the kitchen and my dad told me to open my mouth. And like a good little baby bird I did. And he just. Popped a little piece of butter in my mouth. Like a snack. And I just let it dissolve in there. Very vivid memory for me. Like just here, child have a. Butter piece.

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 11: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should curiously socialize with a few of the boat travelers ...

~

"The Adventurer grabs one of the ornate glass bowls near the buffet table, meekly gathering some cheese and vegetables as he scans the crowd. For the first 15 minutes of the lunch, he mostly crouches in a corner seat, nibbling on his food and nervously fielding the occasional drunken question from a passing party guest..

Knowing he should.. probably... actually socialize at some point, he begrudgingly chooses conversational partners, squeezing his eyes shut and pointing around randomly until he lands on someone.....

The first is a scrawny man in a flashy suit, wobbly from wine but still keeping a vaguely charming demeanor about him. He proudly introduces himself as a "legal expert", then goes on to ramble for a while about the laws in the area, how drastically they vary from city to city (plus a few veiled hints on how to safely break them), and that if you travel a lot it can be hard to keep up with it all.

He mentions, quite conveniently, that he's recently published a book on the topic, a legal guide for local explorers, and offers to give The Adventurer a copy for a special discounted price... but... then soon recalls that the crate of books he'd planned to sell on the boat sadly ended up falling into the river earlier during a "silly little mishap"..

In place of a book, he simply slides The Adventurer a glossy mint colored paper swirled with golden floral motifs, supposedly serving as some sort of business card, though the actual contact information seems obscured beneath the cluttered design. The Lawyer also pulls off his scarf as he rises to leave, wrapping it around The Adventurer's shoulders with a little waving flourish (not the first time someone has confused his anxious shaking for cold shivers). The Adventurer stutters out a confused thank you, then watches as the Lawyer stumbles off, mumbling to himself that he's been drinking too much and "truly must find somewhere to piss"......

The second person he approaches is an older woman, hunched over a table fidgeting with a handful of colorful glass dice, spinning and stacking and arranging them into patterns whilst her thoughts drift elsewhere. Initially, she gives evasive answers when asked personal questions, but soon grows more talkative once the topic of local flora and fauna arises. She apparently used to adventure as well, roaming the lands to document various elements of nature relevant to her mysterious "private research" - though, at her age, she's now resigned to casual boat rides rather than riskily hiking alone through uncharted wilderness. Gently laying a worn leather journal of watercolor paintings out onto the tabletop, she points at various berries, leaves, and animals, eagerly describing their significance...

After chatting for a while, she abruptly changes topics, mentioning that sometimes she can "sense things which she should not" (whatever the hell that means), then asks him to pick one of her dice. He hesitates, but she just stares, refusing to elaborate further.. Finding even 30 seconds of awkward silent eye contact physically impossible to bear, he hurriedly plops a finger down in front of an iridescent yellow die. She chuckles..

Scooping up all of the dice from the table, she rattles them in her clasped hands, then brings them up to her ear as if to listen... to something?? A few moments later, she turns back to him, speaking in a raspy whisper: "There are others, melding your footprints with their own, seeking a gift you do not yet know - this is what I see."

Before he can ask her for any elaboration, the Captain returns, grumbling that The Adventurer has already stayed 5 minutes past the time limit and swatting at him with a broom to shoo him off of the boat. Apparently an hour can go by fast....

After climbing back into his dinky raft, he sails mostly successfully down the river, finally making it to a point that, at least based on his map, SHOULD be where the main road picks back up past the detour. He crashes into a small grouping of rocks whilst trying to navigate back to the shore, but he was planning on disassembling the raft to get his rope and supplies back anyway, so.. aside from a scraped knee and possibly broken pinky toe, he decides it's actually fine. The cat is okay, which is all that really matters, anyhow.

By the time he's taken apart his boat, eaten a quick meal, and bandaged his leg, the sun seems to have nearly set. It's later in the night than he'd usually like to travel, but, where he's going is a pretty commonly used road, so maybe it's safe? He's exhausted from socializing, but could probably muster enough energy to walk for at least a while. Or perhaps he should just call it a night and find a place to sleep.. But.. where??? What should he do?

-

Additional information

acquired a long, warm, expensive scarf

acquired slightly increased knowledge of local plants

acquired vague information from the 'dice based fortune teller', or whatever that was meant to be

acquired a business card (+ ability to get away with one minor crime free of legal consequence)

acquired mild nausea for the next 5hrs from weird buffet cheese

acquired badly scraped knee and sprained toe (will walk slightly slower for the next 2 days)

the adventurer's current main goal: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[todayisafridaynight]

DID YOU MISS THE EXAM... Either way I can believe in that superstition for a sec I'm so sorry 😭😭😭

NONO I TOOK IT. BARELY. I BARELY TOOK IT. I JUST THOUGHT CLASS WAS GOING TO BE NORMAL BUT NOPE <3<3<3

[fellhellion]

my hubris is always trying to tackle all thirty thousand of my character thoughts in one fic

[yourknightinshiningplastic]

girl help I'm thinking. about that guy again.

[jamminvroomvroom]

.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

fuck. I think maybe I got them all.

[pears-trinkets]

not many things make me as irritated and bitter as germans using the word adhd as an insult thats supposed to mean that someone's an attention whore

[unfinishedslurs]

“You know, I used to have a crush on you,” Steve says. Eddie has got to stop walking in on their conversations. Nancy has picked up on his bad mood, and Eddie can’t tell her it’s because her two ex-boyfriends are fucking.

Jonathan snorts. “Really?” he asks. He sounds like he might be high.

“Oh yeah,” Steve drawls. He’s definitely high. “I was, like, seventeen, and you held my hand and saved my life. Ruined me forever, dude.”

Forever. He wonders what a forever would look like for Steve and Jonathan. Steve’s six kids in a winnebago sounds so out of reach, but he’s sure they’d find a way. Jonathan seems like the kind of guy who’d be good at taking care of kids. 

Eddie’s not. Eddie can’t even look at a child anymore without their mother pulling them away, which fucking sucks. He likes kids.

“Wait, when did I hold your hand?”

“When we were fighting the demogorgon! You don’t remember?”

“We were fighting a monster and you were having a gay crisis?” Jonathan cackles. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I didn’t know it was a gay crisis,” he defends. Eddie can practically see the red on his cheeks. “I thought it was like, a warriors bond or some shit. Brothers in arms. You made me feel the same way Tommy did, I thought we were best friends!”

“You had a crush on Tommy?”

“Jonathan, my guy. I was deep in the closet and we used to practice kiss. Of course I had a crush on him.”

“You used to what?”

“Practice kiss,” Steve repeats, “like, for girls. So we’d be good at it.”

Jonathan’s answering silence speaks volumes.

“Wait,” he says.

Jonathan makes a noise like he’s dying. 

“Wait.”

“Steve,�� Jonathan wheezes, “did you tell Tommy-”

“No!” Steve shouts. “No, man, he told me.”

They both erupt into the unbridled laughter of men who are blitzed out of their minds.

“Wait, I need to know,” Jonathan giggles. “Fuck, marry, kill. Me, Eddie, Tommy.”

Oh no. Oh no? God, please no. This is hell. He’s died and God is punishing his sodomy through increasingly mind breaking torture methods.

“Dude,” Steve says, “That’s not fair. I already married Tommy when I was like, five.”

“You what?”

“Yeah, we got, like, fuckin’ playground married and shit. Carol officiated. He gave me daisies.”

“Daisies,”Jonathan repeats, flabbergasted.

“Yeah! And then I learned what a faggot was,” Steve announces proudly.

Jonathan stops laughing.

“Oh,” he says slowly. God, they’ve got to be so incredibly high. Eddie wishes he could join them. “Right. That’s bad.”

“That’s bad,” Jonathan agrees. “But also this is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Why didn’t you tell me baby you was so cute? What happened?”

“Shut your damn mouth, Byers. I left my husband for you.”

“You left your husband for me,” he says, smug. “Wait, does that make me the other woman?”

“Jonathan,” Steve says, “you’ve always been the other woman.”

They collapse into more peels of laughter, and Eddie can’t take it anymore. He needs to move out.

As he leaves, Steve says, “Dude, you're other-womaning right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jonathan says, “cuza your crush on-”

Eddie speeds up, and whatever Jonathan was going to say is lost to the ringing in his ears.

stonathan fwb (steddie)

this one is inspired by this fic by fivecenturiesverse

“Nancy and I broke up.”

“Shit,” Steve says, somehow managing to sound surprised. As if he and Nancy weren’t teetering on the verge of something throughout spring break. “That sucks, man.”

“It…was a long time coming, I think,” Jonathan admits. There’s a soft thump, like Steve clapping Jonathan’s shoulder in solidarity. 

They don’t say anything else, and Eddie almost leaves to go eavesdrop somewhere else when Jonathan speaks. 

“Are you…going to do anything about that?”

“About what?” Steve asks, genuine confusion in his voice. 

“Nancy.”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Eddie braces himself to hear the truth. That he’s going to ask her out, ask to get married, ask her to have his six little nuggets and travel across the country together. “No.” 

Eddie’s brain record scratches. 

“Really?” Jonathan sounds rightfully skeptical. 

“Yeah, I don’t…” he lets out a nervous laugh, and Eddie can picture him raising a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “There’s…someone else, and I can’t…she’s amazing. Nancy, I mean. She’s, like, this huge person in my mind, you know? I wanted to love her so much, and I convinced myself she loved me back because it was easier than admitting I was clinging onto something that wasn’t meant to be. I kind of put my whole future on her. Figured if I could love any girl, it’d be the perfect one right in front of me.” He laughs again, hollow. “She was right, to call it bullshit. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“If it helps, I think she really did love you,” Jonathan says, sounding fake as all hell. 

Steve brushes him off. “No you don’t. It’s okay, it was never really real. Not like you guys. That…that really sucks, man.”

“It’s for the best, I think.” There’s a long pause. “You said…if you could love a girl, it would be Nancy.”

“…I did say that,” Steve says warily. Eddie has a feeling he really, really shouldn’t be listening to this, but he can’t bring himself to back away. 

“Do you…are you…” 

“If you’re going to be an asshole, I should tell you that I’ve been working out a lot since ‘83,” Steve interrupts. 

“I noticed,” Jonathan mutters. 

What. 

“What?”

“What?”

“I…nothing,” Steve sighs. 

There’s another, longer pause, filled with tension that Jonathan decides to take an emotional jackhammer to. “Do you want to fuck me?” 

What the fuck. 

Oh, God, he’s going to have to save Jonathan Byers from his tragically straight crush. From their mutual tragically straight crush? …their mutual tragically straight crush, who admitted to not liking girls? 

Something’s not adding up. 

“What the fuck, Byers?” Steve sounds angry, and Eddie prepares to jump in. “What, you think just because I’m queer I automatically want to sleep with you?”

What. 

“No!” Jonathan yelps. “No, that’s not it, it’s just…we’re both queer, and stuck here for the foreseeable future, and I’ve never been with a guy but I trust you.”

There’s a stunned silence. 

“You’re queer.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, probably dying of mortification. 

“You trust me?”

“Steve,” Jonathan says gently, and Eddie nearly bites through his tongue. “Of course I do.”

“You and Nancy just broke up,” Steve says, wavering. “And I can’t…there’s someone else. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. You can say no. I just figured I’d ask.”

“Fuck,” Steve mutters. “You realize I’m just as in the dark here as you are, right? I’ve never been with a guy either.”

“We can find out together,” Jonathan says. “Only if you want to, though.”

A heavy silence, where Eddie has to bite his tongue to keep his cool. 

“Fuck it. Why the hell not?”

Then Eddie has to leave for the sake of his own sanity. Not before he hears the wet smack of a kiss, though. 

Eddie might be going insane. 

It’s like everywhere he looks he sees signs of Steve and Jonathan’s… development. Steve leans forward to grab something and his eyes catch on a hickey under his collar. Jonathan sits a little too gingerly one day, and Eddie’s immediately caught up in a fiery inferno of jealousy that he’s not the one sore from whatever Steve did last night. He has to leave the room. 

It gets even worse when Steve comes by DND wearing a shirt that is clearly Jonathan’s. 

“What are you wearing?” Dustin demands before he can. It’s probably a good thing he did, Eddie might have just started biting him to stake a claim. Which is a useless thought, because Steve isn’t his to claim at all. Steve is Jonathan’s. And stake a claim he did. 

He kind of wishes he could hate Jonathan, but he can’t. The guy’s just so sweet with his brother, and it’s obvious in the way he takes care of people that he’s a good guy. The kind of guy who deserves someone like Steve. Someone would have to be a crazy, fucked-up, jealous asshole to hate him. 

Eddie is all of those things. He’s also great at lying to himself. If he doesn’t admit he hates Jonathan Byers, fellow freak, for sleeping with the most unfortunately spectacular jock imaginable, he never has to confront his own failure to keep to his code. The doctrine that Steve cheerfully set on fire and then stomped the ashes into dust. All without knowing it, the asshole. 

He really can’t blame Jonathan. Eddie’s well aware that he’s made up some weird, one-sided rivalry in his head over Steve’s affections. It’s not his fault that one of them got the guy, and the other got to scream into his pillow at 2am. 

Sure, they both said they were hung up on other people, but how long would that really last? He’s fairly sure Steve was lying about having feelings for someone. Eddie can’t help but watch him, and he’s never once seen a sign Steve was interested in any of the other men he hung out with. 

Steve colors. “It’s Jonathan’s,” he says, picking at the band tee like he’s self-conscious about it. Which is ridiculous. He obviously knows he looks good in anything. “I…uh…spilled something on mine.”

From the way he talks, Eddie has a pretty good idea what exactly got on his shirt. He takes deep breaths, and tries not to chew through the table. He wishes Steve were in his band shirt instead. He’d look great in Judas Priest merch. 

He tries not to picture him in a Corroded Coffin shirt. He fails.