#he just yells at Keith some more

[shares-a-vest]

'Steve Harrington – Actual Babysitter?' (Drabble Prompt: Fluff)

Eddie walks into Family Video expecting to find Steve lolling on his swivel chair behind the counter and flipping through a magazine instead of doing... Well, whatever actually is written on that clipboard Robin is typically flapping about for fear of the wrath of Keith.

But Robin isn't in today and the store is quiet. Aka, it's the perfect opportunity for Eddie to come in with Steve's lunch, where they sit together and chat. No, he doesn't bring it every Wednesday like clockwork. And no, he isn't bringing along his own lunch so he can pretend it's a date or anything.

No – definitely nothing like that.

Even if there is some banter that some people (Robin) might describe as flirting.

It's just that he has to take what he can get lately when it comes to his kinda-sorta big, fat, dumb crush on Steve. Especially now that the guy is disappointingly incommunicado on their no-longer Sunday Night pizzas.

Steve insists he isn't dating anyone – and he sure is complaining about that fact enough. But, well...

Eddie does worry.

And he damn near panics at the sight of an empty Family Video. The store is eerily silent too as he steps inside and looks around.

"St – "

"– Oovie!"

Eddie jolts with a yelp as the babbling yell of what could only be the shrill tones of a whole-ass human child reverberates around him.

"Yes, buddy," comes Steve's voice from behind the counter, "Oh – well, maybe not Rambo."

Eddie tip-toes forward and places his hands on the counter before he peers over the edge, where he finds Steve surrounded by the parts of a dismantled VCR. In his lap is indeed a human child, a boy with chestnut brown hair who couldn't be more than two.

He doesn't know all that much about kids, really, but Eddie is pretty certain the little squirt shouldn't be waving around a videotape with such force Steve might get clomped in the head at any moment.

The boy yell-babbles again and Steve swerves away from a side swipe to his beautiful noggin.

"Okay, maybe we shouldn't play with this one," Steve says, gently placing his hand on the tape and giving it a light tug.

The boy squirms, and in doing so makes direct eye contact with Eddie. They both startle, and Eddie thinks if anyone was watching, they might say his eyes look as wide as the kid's staring up at him.

The boy points at Eddie and coos with a big, toothy grin.

"Stee!"

"Can you stop –" Steve grumbles, cutting himself off as the boy begins to tilt them sideways. He looks up and gasps, "Oh!"

Steve scrambles upright with the boy, who makes an (admittedly, adorable) wooshing sound as he is swooped up and bundled into a pair of burly arms that today appear to be bursting out of the confines of a navy blue polo shirt.

Eddie blushes, looking back at the boy in an attempt to regulate his heart rate.

"What's with the baby, Steve?" he says, trying to sound biting rather than flustered as Steve props the kid on his hip like it's second nature.

Steve takes the boy's hand and bounces him a little as he tries to encourage a wave, "You know Angie, my mom's best friend? This is her kid, George."

George finally waves and Steve grins, all proud in a way that makes Eddie's cheeks blush. Shit, he really wasn't prepared for something like this to happen today.

Or maybe like ever, really.

"George," he nods, offering a two-finger salute.

"Angie stopped by and realised she forgot something over at Melvad's," Steve explains, swaying now as George looks around the store, "So I'm taking care of little Georgie for a minute."

Georgie?

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face.

"I s-see," he splutters as he comes up for air.

"And we are fixing VCRs today, aren't we, Georgie?" Georgie tee-hees at that and oh goddamn it, now the little gremlin is trying to get his tiny, pudgy arms around Steve for a hug, "Then we're gonna pick a movie for Sunday Funday."

"Oovie!" Georgie cheers.

Wait.

"You're babysitting on Sundays?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugs before looking down at George with a fond smile, "I kinda like it, y'know?"

[bluemantics]

“Just— just move your leg a little to the left.”

“I’m trying, Keith, shut up!”

“Well, my legs are numb. So any day now….”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Keith huffed out a too-warm breath as Lance shuffled around next to him, Lance’s arm trapped behind his shoulders. They’d been captured during the supposed peace feast that Nul’kar was hosting, sedated with alien chemicals, then tossed into some sort of box on the back of a vehicle. Trapped, squished together, they could barely move. Keith wasn’t too worried about the immediate threat— he’d already signaled for Voltron when he felt the toxins set in. He was more worried about Lance’s neck, right next to his face.

Keith tried to turn his head away and failed.

“Look,” Lance started, voice thin. “I know this is an awkward situation for both of us, okay? Let’s just try to ignore it and stay still for now while we wait.”

“…fine,” Keith said flatly.

“Good.”

Then, silence. Keith just let it sit, not caring, trying to think about anything else besides Lance’s long, elegant neck directly in his face and oh god—

“I can’t take the silence,” Lance huffed.

“I thought you just wanted to sit here?” Keith questioned back. He felt his thigh cramp underneath Lance’s. That would hurt worse later.

“Yeah, but let’s just… I dunno? Talk?” Lance snipped.

“Okay, then, what do you want to talk about?” Keith couldn’t help annoyance from slipping into his tone.

“What do you miss about home?”

Keith paused. Lance’s demeanor had changed suddenly in a way Keith recently noticed happened more and more frequently. He always struggled to respond to those changes, too anxious that he would say the wrong words.

“I didn’t have much back home, really,” Keith admitted. He felt more than saw Lance’s wince. “But, the desert. Sunsets and sunrises. And nighttime drives. It was a nice change for me, to be peaceful.”

“Oh,” Lance hummed.

“Yeah. What about you?”

“My family,” Lance answered immediately. Keith sensed his shoulders bunching up, and he tried to lay a comforting hand on Lance’s back. Lance jolted at first, but leaned into it after. “My mom, and her cooking. My dad’s corny stories about how they met. My sisters and their stupid fights, my brother’s jokes. I miss it all, and sometimes it makes me feel greedy, to want that life back when I’m trying to fight for other people to have that kind of life. Y’know?”

“Yeah,” Keith murmured. “But it’s not selfish. It’s just… human. We all want that stuff.”

“Even you?” Something imperceptible hung in the air, pressing down on both of them.

“Especially me, I think.” Keith bit down on his lip, worrying at it in the dark.

“Especially?” Lance asked softly.

“It’s different for me.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly, an explosion sounded off outside the box. The vehicle halted, and a green weapon slashed into their box, making Lance yelp and press back toward Keith. It was only Pidge, appearing through the light in the opening, shredding her way into the box.

“We’re here to save you two dumbfucks!” she yelled, bullet fire sounding from somewhere beyond her. “Let’s move!”

Keith and Lance nodded quickly, tumbling out of the box, their conversation now forgotten between its walls.

[supernova41st]

Friday night night funkin dating hcs!!

Warnings: Some nsfw stuff but nothing too far, boob grabbing, bra stealing, nudes but not rlly

A/n: I HAVE ANOTHER OBSESSION UGHHH, anyways!! I’m so happy the fandom is reviving bc of the new update ahh. Also I didn’t rlly know what to put for bc so apologies if you wanted more of him :(

Keith (bf):

He’s such a flower sniffer istg

He’s like a rosy cheeked sweetheart who brings you heart chocolate every time he visits you

No but actually he’s wrapped around your fingers, it’s scary.

His fav dates are you and him alone at his house watching Godzilla movies and laying his head against your stomach while you play with his hair

AND YOU WEAR HIS HAT

Sometimes you’ll send a pic of you in his boxers that he left at your house just to tease him

But whenever he feels silly (which is all the time) he’ll send a picture of him in your bra for funsies

“I can do that too :D”

“0_•”

Keith is such a nerd, playing video games with him is your go to date

You guys would always match, like whenever you two play Mario kart he’d be toad and you’d be toadette

You hype him up sm, esp when playing Fortnite 😭

Y’all know that one Tik tok audio that goes

“Yeah get his ass FUCKING PUSSY TRY THE FUCK AGAIN BITCH, TRY THE FUCK AGAIII”

You do that, and it scares him.

His fav activity? Pot + cartoons.

You guys are the silliest couples ever. Laughing at SpongeBob with fog all over the room until your ribs start to hurt.

“Babes.. do you think that like-Starfires armpits are also pink?”

“…woah”

Pico:

Now when pico first starting dating you he thought you were just another chick to stuff his wiener in.

But soon enough, you guys were both wrapped around each others finger.

He’d kill for you tbh

Pico canonically has abs, so he likes it whenever he’s chilling with you and you just poke/rub them. He thinks it’s the cutest AND hottest shit ever

This man cannot get enough of your boobies, whenever he’s on his phone he’d have his arm around you and casually use your boob as a stress ball.

Sometimes he’ll just steal your bras whenever you’re showering or changing, just so that he can get a fresh look at ‘his girls’ (that’s what he calls them)

“Pico!! Have you seen my bra?”

“Hm? Na babe, I’m js here.”

This sly fuckin ginger

Most of his dates consist of going to his fav burger joint or sleeping over at each others houses

He esp loves the second one cuz he gets to makeout with you, prob his fav thing to do in this life.

Whenever you guys leave any function, like ever, he’ll yell out your ship name as he leaves the room 😭

“Pi-y/n, OUT”

“Babe you don’t have to do that every time we leave..”

Also his dad (Tankmen) loves embarrassing him in front of you.

(Tankmen) “Yeah so Pico kept pissing himself in the bed until 7th grade, shit had me concerned but turns out it was just normal puberty shit.”

(You)“Oh..”

“Dad I’m gonna kill you.”

Lmao he did eventually

Darnell

Darnell has such a big ego on being a ‘cool tough guy’, but when it comes to you it entirely washes away

It embarrasses him whenever he’s around his friends and you come over and start smooching him all over his face, getting lipgloss/lipstick all over him

“Mwah mwah mwah!!”

“B-baby. Babe, you’re ruining my aura.”

But he loves showing you off, you’re like his biggest flex. Whenever he hangs with his friends he always shows pictures of you like you’re his newborn

“Yeah so this is when we went to the skate park the other week and-“

“Dude. This is like the 5th picture you’ve shown me of them.”

Once for Valentine’s Day, he surprised you by spray painting an entire wall of you smooching him. (But like in the style of the fnf stickers they sell)

You were in such awe, you almost cried.

He was so embarrassed to show you at first, but when he saw how much you loved it he was so relieved

You and Nene are such besties

Like, squealing while talking about boys besties

“HII Y/N!!! :33”

“OMG HEY NENE!! ^^”

So when she found out you had a crush on Darnell, she was so excited

You guys became delusional abt him together, like

“NENE TODAY DARNELL LOOKED AT ME”

“STOPP HE WANTS YOU SO BADD”

“IKR”

O and your weapon (cuz everyone in picos friendgroup has one) is a broken glass bottle of whatever your fav drink is

Sometimes you’ll throw in a burning rag in there to make a Molotov cocktail

Also I hc that Darnell has thick silver rings and you love how they feel against your neck whenever you guys are smooching.

He lets you wear them at times but they always slip off because our boy has some THICK fingers.

[dualityvn]

Ever since I saw the unhinged Keith doodles I just.. 👀 Like damn, I already was into Keith before but now I'm on my knees for that man - literally onw to get him a ring

Could we get a little headcanons/scenarios about how he would react and act after when MC praised him after murdering someone for them? Maybe throw in some TenTen content as well, I'm curius how he would react too! 🤭

I still find it so funny when you guys call them headcanons /nm But yes, here you are:

If you praised Keith for murdering someone, he would completely lose it. He'd repeat how much he loves you over and over, get on his knees, staring at you with eyes full of worship. You better tell him you love him too or he will go into a different, more desperate frenzy, demanding to know what he needs to do for you to love him if killing wasn't good enough. If you do tell him you love him, he will promise you that he'll kill as many people as he needs to in order to keep you by his side.

Tenebris does not kill the same way as Keith does. After he harms someone, he always expects to be scolded, yelled at, screamed at (and, like, rightfully so). So he is very confused and doesn't know what to do with himself if you praise him. He may assume you're doing it out of fear or you're in some sort of state of shock.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥

↳ summary: everyone knew you loved your lazy sundays. but that didn't stop them from bothering you

↳ warnings: mentions of fights and ponyboy getting jumped. nothing serious

↳ notes: could be interpreted as platonic or romantic with whoever you like. just some silly times

↳ song: we're gonna move—elvis presley

masterlist | commissions | carrd

Sundays at the Curtis household were normally calm.

Maybe it was because that was the day before school would start up again for Ponyboy— it used to be that way for both him and Sodapop until his big brother dropped out —or maybe it was because that was the lords day; at least according to the bible. Whatever the case, you knew you could always rely on an unlocked door and comfy couch awaiting you each time you jumped the chain link fence in their front yard. Just as long as it was Sunday.

So, understandably, you were peeved when Steve Randal and Two-Bit had come bursting through the front door looking for a fight.

"Come on man!" Two-Bit, otherwise known as Keith Matthews by his mother and kid sister, but only by his mother and kid sister, was currently whining your name in a way that he would only do if he wanted something. "Those soc's deserve it for what they did to Pony yesterday!"

Warm sunlight from the clear afternoon day peaked through the window panes behind you, lighting up each and every crevice in the front room of the house. A great black and white picture show was running on the TV, the likes of which had captured your attention for most of the day as you lay on Darry Curtis' couch, only ever moving to help out with chores when asked by him or Soda.

You scowled from your spot on that same trashy floral couch as before, flipping Two-Bit off quick enough so that Darry didn't see you. Even though he was in the other room working on dishes with Soda, you knew he would be able to tell. He was magic in a way like that. Annoyingly magic.

"What's with the shake up?" Steve questioned through the cigarette in his mouth, looking down at you from his nose. "Just last week you were itching for a rumble, and now all you want to do is sit and watch TV like some bum?"

"Wrong. Now all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch cartoons like some bum." You corrected him with a bit of snark in your tone, knowing that he hated that sort of thing. You saw Two-Bit's lips quirk up in a smile from the corner of your eye, reminding you temporarily of the shared love of cartoons that the two of you held.

"It's Sunday." Soda strolled in from the other room with a damp rag in his hands, tossing it down on the couch cushions as he went to clap Steve on the back—the way he always did when he saw his best friend. "You know they like their Sundays, guys."

"Screw their Sundays." Steve scoffed without any real malice behind the action. "Dally's on his way over with Johnny right now to meet us before the fight. We just wanted to come and get you before they got here."

With a halfhearted groan you let your head hit the back of the couch. If Dallas was coming over, you knew that the gangs minds had already been made up. Dally could be awfully convincing when he wanted to get his way, and that was more often than not. Really there was no sense in arguing now, but sometimes you had less sense then you'd like to admit.

"I'll tell Darry ya'll are gonna start up a fight." You said in a last ditch effort to keep your lovely spot on the warm couch. You were just met with knowing smiles.

"Awh you know he'd let us go if we promised to not get anymore blood on his floor comin' home." Two-Bit's smile widened, and you knew that he could tell they'd worn you down. That's how it always went when they wanted to fight during an off day for you, and you should be more used to it by now.

With the beginnings of a slow chew on your bottom lip, you mulled it over. Despite what one could think about Darry, that he yelled at his brothers too much or was too hard on Pony, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to get into a fight of his own for one of his brothers, even if he had work the next day. And that was a stone cold fact.

The screen door to the Curtis home squeaked open for the second time in just a few minutes, the entrance giving way to two more figures in dark clothing and greased up hair. One was nursing a cigarette butt while the other swayed side to side in a nervous tick.

"Ready to split?" Dallas Winston let a puff of smoke escape his lips as he grinned, looking around at the small group that had gathered in the living room. Johnny Cade shuffled behind him, and despite the current situation, you made time to send a welcome wave in his direction. He nodded back with a light glint in his eyes.

"Most of us." Soda laughed at Dally's question, ratting you out with a single look in your direction.

"I swear to god man, we do this every time." Dally shook his head as if he'd been expecting this. He looked at you dead on, almost as if trying to pry an explanation out of you this time. You resisted the urge to scrunch your nose up as he did so.

"Don't worry Dal, we just got 'em on the fence." Two-Bit smiled, and you hated that he was right.

With a sigh, you dusted your lap off before getting up, ignoring the small cheer that came from Soda and Two-Bit as you did so. From behind them Johnny smiled that little smile of his.

Dally even let a small one of his own slip, and you cursed whoever decided to give him such long eyelashes. One wrong downward tilt of his head, and sometimes you felt like he could get you to do whatever he wanted if he just asked.

"I'm coming, but next Sunday if any of you so much as ask me into town, I'll start a fight of my own." You pursed your lips. Another cheer rose between the six of you, and somehow you just knew that next week the exact same thing would happen, just as it always did. Good thing it never really bothered you. Nothing these guys ever do would, even though you'd never admit it to them.

"And just to be clear I want you to know I'm only going because it was Pony that was jumped!" You raised your voice through the pre-celebration, trying to stop the smile breaking out across your face from growing any wider. "If it was any of you idiots, I'd go join the other side!"

Playful boo's broke out as Soda slung an arm around your shoulders. A hand was quick to fly up to your hair with an attempted noogie, but you shook your head wildly enough to hault it.

Leaving the security of the plush couch and the drone of the Curtis' TV, you found yourself walking down the street with Dally's cigarette between your lips, taking a puff of it before handing it back to him. As the white smoke drifted up into the blue sky above, you thought about the people around you, and smiled.

Now you just had to hope you wouldn't ruin yet another shirt with blood.

[sleepyangelkami]

TOUCH STARVED s.harrington

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.5K

STEVE HARRINGTON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - you were too shy to speak up for what you wanted, even to your boyfriend for something so simple. fortunately for you, he always seem to know exactly what you need.

 ☆ WARNINGS - mention of pussy whipped, reader has hair, light insecurity, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

walking into family video, steve swore he'd never seen such a glum face.

your expression was saddened, not enough to look upset over something but just enough to tell steve what kind of day you'd been having. and believe me, he'd had his fair share of these kind of days.

"you doofus, that's not how you do it." robin argued, as she always was. nothing steve could do for her ever deemed to be the 'right way' however, before he could give back a snappy argument, he snapped his head towards you, the bells of the store giving a quick ring.

robin looked up confused as she received no snarky comeback before glancing towards you. she could have rolled her eyes, how pussy-whipped was this guy? "hey, y/n." she greeted first, watching as steve stepped away from the counter.

"hi, rob." you gave her a sweet, almost shy smile, she returned it in full. robin was very well used to you getting in these little moods, sort of where you shy into yourself. she'd never mentioned it, though, sort of assuming that was just how you were.

"hey, honey." steve was by your side in an instant, snatching up your bag from you so he could hold it. the sight of him had you leaning into him, almost fluttering your eyes shut. a sudden overwhelming feeling of tiredness fell over you. "you okay?"

he was craning his neck to look at you, you merely nodded. "tired." you answered before making your way behind the counter with him.

technically, you shouldn't be behind the counter and if keith were here, he'd surely have something to say about it. but he wasn't.

family video was having one of them slow days that consisted in hardly five customers an hour while steve and robin argued relentlessly on working the stupid computer that had been around way too long for anyone's liking.

you sat on one of the chairs with steve's arm around you. for as long as you could remember, he'd always been like this. touchy.

and truthfully? you were thankful. some days, all you needed was his touch and you didn't even have to ask, merely hold out a hand shyly and it was in yours. but on days like this, even an arm constantly around your shoulder wasn't enough.

your fingers had trailed up to mess with his. his large hand was relatively big in yours, you could lean against his shoulder all the while. in all of this, you could have fallen asleep.

though, that deemed hard with robin and steve's constant arguing. "you idiot!" steve yelled, pushing buttons at the computer and sort of dragging you as he did so. "you're gonna break it!"

"and what if i did?" she argued back. "not like it's worth anything." she would have kicked the computer, had she been right. unfortunately, the computer was worth something, her job.

steve sat himself back on the chair with a scowl before glancing to you.

even the mere sight of you was always enough to calm him down.

"sorry." he mumbled, knowing he was disturbing whatever peace you were getting. you merely waved him off before going back to playing with his fingers.

a couple more customers came in and fled all the same, renting movies that robin and steve would then gossip about as soon as they'd leave the store. oh yeah, horrible movie. i heard the sequels even worse!

it was best for you to leave them do this.

and by seven, it was time to lock up. you stood outside, waiting for steve who was using the key to pull down the store gate.

robin's head came out from underneath, holding her satchel bag. "night guys!" she called after you without turning around. she didn't even have a drivers license so you weren't entirely sure how she was getting home. nonetheless, you'd learned that it was better not to question robin.

"night!" steve called back before turning to you and rolling his eyes. "that girl." he only shook his head and shut his eyes, concealing his obvious irritation towards his best friend.

you only grinned back sheepishly, knowing they despised yet loved one another dearly.

it wasn't until you were sat in the passenger seat of his car, gazing out the window while your hands fiddled with his fingers that sat atop your thigh that he noticed something was wrong. earlier, you'd shrugged it off as mere tiredness and he supposed he believed you.

the night sky was dark and the hot air coming from the car was enough to lull anyone to sleep. yet still, he had a gnawing feeling that you weren't telling him the whole truth.

you weren't a liar, no. steve would say you were many things, never a liar.

however, you had the tendency to hide things from him. not overly important things like seeing someone else or something or other. you just had the tendency to not speak much about your feelings unless directly asked. you'd shy away and sheepishly shrug, not wanting to bother him.

you always had that fear of burdening him.

as the relationship progressed, he noticed this. he too had the fear of burdening. but slowly, you both began to break out of your shells. him undeniably much faster than you.

the stillness of his house told you it was home. the porch lights were on as he led you inside, hand on the small of your back. a couple lights were left on in the house too.

not the large, centre lights.

the warm lamps illuminating the entire house in a cozy aura.

you weren't too sure how you moved from the door to the couch so quickly. nonetheless, you relaxed into the material as the sound of you and steve's show began to play. a new episode every week. it was a ritual in the harrington house. and by that, i mean just you and him.

steve didn't miss the glances you kept shooting him. whether intentional or not, he could see from the corner of his eye, your head move to look at him and suddenly look back at the screen before he could catch you.

when he did, though, he caught exactly what he needed.

you were looking at him all doey, presumably tired however there was something else in your eye, something that gave you completely away.

a longing.

suddenly, everything clicked.

there was a reason you'd been leaning into him so much today, following him around silently like a lost puppy dog. not that he minded, no, he never minded. but he knew something had been wrong and that you didn't think you had voice enough to speak on it.

"what's wrong with you, huh?" he nudged you, voice ever so gentle. though he knew what you wanted, he sort of wanted you to tell him. "been quiet all day."

you leaned your head against the back of the couch, eyes travelling over his pretty features. and he looked especially pretty in the dim lighting of the enormous living room. "'m always quiet." you countered.

in a way, you were far from wrong. more often than not, steve would have to beg you to speak to more people, try get out there because he knew you wanted to. once again, you feared your voice was much too small. "fair point. but you're more quieter today."

you pursed your lips at him. "just quieter." he hummed in confusion. "it's just 'quieter', more quieter isn't the right grammer."

a roll of his eyes was paired with a pretty grin. "see? there's my smart girl. where was she all day, hm? head cloudy?"

truthfully, you didn't know what was wrong. everything just felt so off, all day you'd wanted to be surrounded by him. his embrace, his words, his scent, his everything. and that was becoming a little too much when the cruel world reminded you that it was, in fact, impossible to morph into another human being by hugging them hard enough. "i don' know." you shrugged, voice sort of small.

but steve had been in the game much longer than you.

it started with the simple feeling of his fingers tracing against your cheeks, grasping a strand of hair and curling it between his index finger. he always thought you looked pretty with your hair framing your face. though you were undeniably beautiful in all aspects.

"there something you want?" he didn't ask it in an accusing way that made you sheepishly look away. he spoke ever so quietly, as if careful of disturbing the peace of his rarely quiet house.

once again, you shrugged.

"sweetheart." he gave you this look. this convincing, knowing, look. steve always had a way of communicating to you, even just through his eyes. it was enough for your heart to quench.

he looked as though he knew exactly what had been troubling you, like he knew exactly how to fix it.

how is it that steve harrington seemingly knew everything in the world? sometimes, even he made you feel a little silly. i mean, he was more tuned in with your emotions than you were.

the show that was playing on the tv was low, barely heard as his eyes searched your own. "you know you can ask for anything, yeah?" you nodded your head while chewing your bottom lip. because you did know. steve always made it easy for you to come to him with anything. yet even then, your own shy nature still prevented you from saying all the words that sat against the tip of your tongue. the universe tended to be cruel like that. "c'mere, honey."

his outstretched arms looked like the heaven you'd been searching for.

without second thought, you found yourself climbing into them, breathing out a sigh of relief as your cheek sat itself against his sweater-covered chest.

this is what you wanted.

his legs were outstretched, somewhere for you to sit against while your own wrapped themselves against his torso. there was something so comforting about the feeling of him against you.

he let you relax your face against him, lips shut tight as one of your hands came beneath your chin. while watching the animations flash across the television, you could feel his own arms slinging loosely around your waist, one hand gently playing with the strands of hair while the other traced against your back.

you supposed you weren't morphed into him but this was as good as it was going to get.

perhaps, this was all you needed.

he was gentle, soft and welcoming.

everything you'd been hoping for.

"this all you needed, hm?" the shapes he drew against your back began to feel a lot like words, a lot like 'i love you'. you nodded, humming ever so softly. "should've just asked, baby."

"i didn't wanna bother you." you mumbled, suddenly feeling like the whole thing had been just a little silly.

you felt his hand against your chin, gently tilting it upwards so you could meet his eye. "you never bother me." and you could tell by the chocolatey swirl in his eyes. he wasn't lying.

perhaps two hours passed since that very moment. steve watched the show episode until it ended, flicking on the television programme that was simply on. he could feel your soft breaths against the nape of his neck, hands outstretched towards him.

you'd fallen asleep in his embrace.

he often told you not to watch the show so late if you would fall asleep albeit you always insisted that you wouldn't. low and behold, he was right. he was always right.

and when the final programme ended, and he deemed it was late enough, he decided it was time to get you into bed.

instead of waking you, he opted to pick you up, carrying you upstairs and surely almost dropping you a total of three times because he couldn't register where he was putting his feet. yet eventually, he made it towards the bedroom and placed you against the bed. the warm blankets soon were draped over your body.

and after all the rustling, the thing that stirred you was the creek of the door.

he watched as your eyes parted, obviously still slick with sleep, and cursed himself. he thought, who, as rich as him, would own a door that creeks so loudly? and made a mental note to get new hinges.

"you okay, angel?" he mumbled into the darkness of the room, slipping off his jeans and slipping into bed with you.

"mm." you hummed as he grasped your body again, holding you close. your arms hugged themselves around his neck, shutting your eyes closed. "wanna melt into you." you mumbled, obviously too tired to register what you were saying.

"yeah?" a chuckle fell from his lips, knowing you would never have the confidence to say such a thing while wide awake. nonetheless, he took it as a compliment anyway. "we should try turkey then."

"what's in turkey?" you questioned tiredly.

"i don't know. everything? i mean, if they can give you a new set of teeth, surely they have the answer to your problems too. we can like, melt ourselves together." he was talking nonesence, though it was lulling you back to sleep anyway.

the sound of your sleepy giggle had him holding his breath, wondering if this was all real. "let's go to turkey then."

"i'll put it on our bucket list, angel." you nodded your head, without response. "you goin' to sleep on me? hm?"

"can you..." you cut yourself off with a breath. then, you reminded yourself that it was steve harrington, the boy you loved more than yourself. and you could ask him anything. "can you keep talking?"

"careful what you wish for, i might not shut up." you only giggled gently before allowing him to continue. "did i ever tell you about dustin's girlfriend?" you shook your head. "oh god, you should have seen it..."

this, you were sure, is where you could actually die happy.

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

[satansapostle6]

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part nine.

part ten. underdogs and shared evils.

The bad mushroom trip was never mentioned again. Tiff and Cook were both back to their usual selves, despite both of them having remembered what had happened the day they took mushrooms together. Both of them were happy to forget it. They went about their lives, as if nothing had happened at all. None of their friends noticed a change of course, given that no one knew about what had transpired between them, but one perceptive individual did. Jonah “JJ” Jones of course noticed the strange changes in Tiff and Cook’s behavior.

The changes weren’t major, but to JJ, who was constantly watching, they were. The changes were small, but still undeniable. Something had happened between Tiff and Cook, JJ knew, but he truly had no idea whether it was good or bad, up until a certain point. JJ watched Cook and Tiffany one day as their group congregated at the local pub as usual. Some things were the same; Cook and Tiff were inseparable. Cook and Tiff also bickered constantly. Cook was constantly teasing Tiffany.

But, some things were different; Cook would get quiet(highly unusual). Tiff would glance over at Cook(Tiff never seemed to put that much thought into anything). Cook would also glance over at Tiff(Cook was usually afraid to seem like he put thought into things). Cook started to put his arm around Tiff, and touch the small of her back while he walked behind her(Cook never touched Tiff that chivalrously). And, also, there was the key difference of Tiff allowing him to do so(this was highly unusual). JJ had no idea what to make of this. At first, he suspected, and feared, that Tiff and Cook might be secretly dating unbeknownst to their group of friends.

But JJ had eventually deduced that this wasn’t true, given that Tiff would, for some reason or other, seem very relieved whenever Cook would flirt with another girl at the pub, or around school. Truthfully, JJ had a million questions, but he wasn’t sure how to bring them to Tiffany’s attention. So, at some point, he decided to let alcohol do its job and approach Tiff as they left the pub, once she was separated from Cook and Effy.

“Tiff?”

JJ nervously walked beside her as she lit up a cigarette outside.

“Yeah, JJ?” she asked caringly.

JJ slowly formulated his question with consideration, before Cook’s untimely interruption of their private side conversation.

“Tiffy! JJ!” Cook barked drunkenly, wrapping an arm around either of them. “How’s it going, eh, mates?”

JJ winced awkwardly, secretly wishing he would leave. But fortunately for him, Tiff responded to Cook on behalf of them both.

“I’m far too sober,” Tiff took note of her internal state.

“Well, have this then!” Cook yelled.

Everyone sitting down around them, especially JJ, was startled as Cook, being unnecessarily loud and violent as usual, slammed a giant beer mug of clear liquid on the table. JJ and Tiff were both equally confused.

“A glass of water?” Tiff questioned, furrowing her brows.

“Nope. Vodka,” Cook said with a toothy grin, “Courtesy of Keith!”

JJ made a face, horrified at this revelation.

“You expect me to drink that entire thing, right now?!” Tiff shouted.

Freddie just shook his head, disapproving of Cook’s usual antics. Effy, however, couldn’t be more thrilled.

“Yeah!” Cook yelled. “Drink it!”

“Seriously?!” Tiff yelled at him, “You expect me to drink that?!”

JJ began to feel more and more sorry for Tiffany, a girl he felt was far too calm and kind for the likes of Cook. It was completely irrelevant to the situation, but JJ couldn’t also help but notice the strangely perfect way the tiny cut of black leather Tiff considered a top clung to her breasts.

“How many more times do I have to tell you, you deaf fuck?!” Cook yelled. “Drink it!”

“Stop—” JJ tried to speak up, but his voice faltered. “Stop yelling at her…”

“You drink it!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“Too late!” Cook yelled at her. “Already drank one before!”

“That is true, unfortunately. I watched him,” Freddie decided to chime in.

Tiff scowled at what must have been an entire soup bowl full of vodka, a pained expression on her face as if she was already about to vomit. JJ noticed this as he sat next to her, looking at her anxiously.

“Tiff, you don’t have to drink that…” JJ promised her, hoping he could save her from Cook.

But evidently, JJ hadn’t anticipated that he couldn’t even save Tiffany Wheeler from herself. Tiff scoffed at JJ’s coddling, waving him off.

“Fuck that!” she yelled at no one in particular. “I’m drinking it!”

“Oh,” Naomi Campbell frowned, “Please don’t drink that…”

Katie scoffed in response, “You know she’s gonna drink it.”

“Tiff makes me wish I was gay,” Effy offered her own insight.

Freddie frowned as he looked at her. Emily went oddly quiet.

“Me too,” Panda assured Effy, as Effy just smirked.

“Tiff…!” JJ complained quietly, genuine fear in his eyes.

“That’s my girl!” Cook proclaimed.

Tiff angrily pointed an angry finger at him. “I am not your girl!”

“Whoo!” Effy shouted, applauding.

“Drink it, Tiff!” Cook encouraged.

The entire group had given into Cook, and Tiff, by now, and were all either eager enablers, or silent bystanders.

“Tiffany,” JJ said nervously, his hand urgently on her thigh like a child begging his mother, “Please… You don’t have to drink that. You’ll get sick,” he insisted.

Tiff rolled her eyes as she got up, grabbing Cook’s beer before shaking her head aggressively. While Cook had never looked more excited for anything in his life, JJ could hardly stand to watch. He’d seen Tiff drink or smoke, or behave in a generally irresponsible or otherwise inappropriate manner before, but this was different. He knew there was no way that this was going to end well, at all.

“Fuck that!” Tiff roared belligerently, snatching the obscene amount of vodka off the table.

Cook watched, practically shaking. He looked like a bomb about to go off. Everyone watched, the entire pub now growing louder and louder as Cook started a chant.

“Tiff! Tiff! Tiff! Tiff! Tiff!”

Tiff became brazen as she raised the glass of vodka to the entire room, caution and discretion thrown to the wind. “I’m fucking Tiff!”

Cook roared with laughter as he and the others all cheered for her, watching in both absolute horror and awe as she downed just about the entire beer mug of vodka. JJ watched in shock as Tiff drank the liquor in a sickeningly grotesque display of blatant alcoholism. Evidently, this was a polarizing act that generally split the room into either feelings of disgust, or reverence. Pandora was squealing in excitement.

JJ seemed to be feeling both as he watched this firecracker of a girl. In a somehow fortunate series of events, Tiff seemed to accidentally spill a significant amount of vodka down her front, which seemed to be the least of her worries at the moment, given the extremely nauseous expression on her face. JJ found it extremely worrisome that the alarming intake of alcohol only seemed to encourage Tiff, as she gradually finished the entire mug of vodka, growling at the foul taste of the liquor as Cook cheered her on. Much to everyone’s horror, Tiff impulsively chucked the empty mug of vodka at the wall, nearly hitting Freddie, who ducked in shock.

Tiff raised her arm as she yelled, “Fuck yeah!”

Panda applauded her, jumping up and down. JJ’s thoughts raced at a million miles an hour as Cook, too full of chaotic and destructive energy, grabbed Tiff and slammed her against the wall behind them. JJ, Naomi, and Freddie all audibly gasped as Cook pinned a giggling Tiff to the wall by her hips, his face aggressively between her breasts as he hungrily lapped up all the spilled vodka.

“Fucking love tits!” Cook yelled, receiving validation from just about every male in the room at that point.

Freddie nearly threw up at the mere idea of that ungodly mixture of vodka, sweat, and saliva from multiple sources. Effy found herself oddly aroused, not unlike JJ, who required multiple gulps in order to keep breathing after witnessing that.

Multiple people around the room cheered and whistled as Tiff finally pushed Cook off of her. She grabbed the beer on the table where she’d been sitting with JJ, decided to slam it in the hopes of countering her nausea. Naomi and Emily both nearly vomited at the sight. Tiff downed the entire mug of beer in addition to the vodka she’d just drank, barely able to stand upright as she took the now empty glass, chucking it at another wall. JJ stared as Katie then had to duck all the projectile broken glass.

Tiff laughed wildly, without a single care in the world, as Effy Stonem decided to instigate and supply an already psychotic Cook with another shot of vodka.

Most normal people would have expected him to at least just drink it, but of course, Cook was far from a normal person. Instead, he decided to roughly pick Tiff up, and splay her out on the table like a dinner spread, spilling a bunch of drinks over Katie and Emily. Freddie and JJ both had unpleasantly out-of-body experiences as Cook carelessly dumped the shot all over Tiff’s exposed chest, sucking it up like a man discovering a desert oasis. JJ couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but it taught him something important; he’d been wrong about Tiffany Wheeler.

This whole time, JJ had believed that Tiff was a quiet, thoughtful girl who was in the wrong company. But this, it seemed, was not true; Tiff was in the exact right company. Tiff was no better than Cook, not really. JJ had initially found it strange that Tiff and Cook were friends; he thought it had to be an ‘opposites attract’ sort of situation; he thought they were like hellish fire, and soothing ice. This was true, of course, but not in the way JJ had imagined. They were more like two sides of the same coin, because at the end of the day, fire and ice both burn. Ice just takes longer to stick to you.

*****

The group left the pub fairly late; it was already dark out, and nothing good was happening beyond its doors. The only ‘sober’ ones were Emily, and JJ. Everyone else was some degree of sloshed, too caught up in their own highs and libidos to pay much attention to anything. Cook was causing trouble out on the streets while Freddie policed him, or attempted to, and most of the girls were just drunk and talking incessantly, except for Effy, who was always quiet by choice.

In that moment, she only talked to Tiff. Effy and Tiff had been walking alongside one another alone, until JJ awkwardly wandered up. JJ’s presence silenced Effy once again, as she took a proverbial and literal step back, allowing JJ to talk to Tiff, or at the very least, try. Tiff, while sober enough to walk and avoid most trouble as they all walked about the night, was drunk enough to be diagnosed as alcohol poisoning. She was slowly walking somewhat from side to side, concerning JJ greatly as he looked back at Effy, not sure why no one was paying more attention to her.

“Tiff. Hey,” JJ said soberly, lifting her up as they walked.

Tiff was so drunk, JJ had no idea how she was still conscious, but to his surprise, she was still speaking, pretty coherently.

“JJ,” she breathed, looking around.

Her vision was mostly bright rays of light splashed over total darkness.

“Tiff, you need to be careful,” JJ told her, looking up at Cook ahead of them.

Cook was currently fixated on Freddie, and harassing him. JJ silently cursed his friend, not appreciating how he’d been almost solely responsible for getting Tiff this drunk, and yet was nowhere to be seen.

“Come on,” JJ said urgently, trying to get her to focus.

“Fuck off, I’m fine,” Tiff spat, as she half leaned on JJ.

“Well,” JJ remarked, “You can say that… That’s a good sign, right?”

Tiff held tightly to his arm as they walked, much to Effy’s curiosity. JJ continued to prop Tiff up for a while, looking at her with great care in his eyes. After about ten minutes of trailing behind most of the group, JJ stopped in the middle of the street.

“Is this your street…?” he asked Tiff.

“No, it’s not this one,” she muttered.

JJ frowned in confusion, almost certain that this was where Cook and Tiff both lived.

“Which one is it, then?” he asked her, genuinely determined to find it and get her home. “It’s around here somewhere, I know it…”

Tiff grumbled as they walked, “I know how to get there from here…”

JJ turned to look at her. “Well, where is it, then, Tiff?” he asked patiently.

Tiff looked up staring at him with dead, half-lidded eyes. “Up yours and around the corner!”

JJ paused, then frowned slightly once he heard the half-baked insult, as Tiff chuckled in a low, barely conscious tone.

“Very funny,” JJ assured her somewhat sarcastically.

“You’re very funny,” Tiff giggled.

Normally, JJ would have been at least a little off put by the liquor on her breath, or her general connection to Cook, but the compliment made him blush, against his will.

“Stop it,” he murmured, actually hoping she’d stop paying such attention to him so that he could breathe.

“Never,” Tiff said simply. “I’m… eternal.”

JJ truthfully had no idea what this meant, other than it sounded like something Cook would drunkenly declare. He looked around as Effy eventually tired of them, catching up with the rest of their friends to see what Cook was up to. It seemed they were completely alone.

“Tiff…” JJ began.

“Hmm?”

He struggled to find the right words, and eventually just decided to say what he just felt he needed to.

“Can you… stop drinking? Please…?” he asked hopefully, all out of luck.

She stared at him as if he’d spoken another language.

“Never,” Tiff said, her tone melancholic and final this time.

JJ just stared back, nodding as he accepted that this was probably nonnegotiable for her, much like Cook. He struggled to come up with something else to say, to try to convince her.

“Tiff… You should really stop,” he advised her, “What… What if you die?” he asked her desperately.

“If I drink,” she slurred, “I might die… If I quit… I’ll have to die. I think I’d rather take my chances… Not see it coming,”she decided.

What she said filled him with the most foul sense of dread.

“Tiffany… Please…” JJ took her hands, holding them ceremoniously. “Lots of people…”

He realized that, knowing Tiff, there weren’t many appropriate words to describe her relationships.

“…Like you,” he declared finally.

Her dark eyes stared back at his blankly, without recognition.

“Yeah? Like who?” she questioned skeptically.

He frowned as he held her hands in his. “Well. I can’t really speak for anyone else, but… I… like you,” he professed.

Tiff just frowned. “Honestly, JJ… I care about you. I really do…”

He found this hard to believe, but not necessarily through any fault of hers.

“But ever since my brother died, all people are shit,” she confessed drunkenly. “Ever since Andrew died, all I can think about is how I’d trade every one of them for him…”

He just looked at her poignantly, unable to form any sort of coherent response.

“I think when I lost Andrew, the last living piece of my soul died,” Tiff stated darkly, completely uninhibited, “I can still feel, but it’s like one of those phantom pains… I feel in the absence of feeling… It’s like I can’t get it up emotionally, JJ. It’s horrible.”

He looked at her with the utmost sympathy. He thought she’d say something else, anything else, to explain, or at least continue, but she just stood there, barely standing, saying nothing at all. JJ hated the silence that followed what she’d said. He stopped by the sidewalk to steady her, not sure what else to do about anything at that point.

“It is this one, I think,” JJ determined, still not quite confident. “Alright… Let’s sit down.”

He slowly lowered himself down on the curb, sitting Tiff beside him. But much to his dismay, she leaned over completely, gagging a bit before completely vomiting onto his lap before he even realized it. JJ yelled out in surprise, horrified and disgusted as Tiff finished throwing up before eventually keeling over on the sidewalk.

“Sorry…”

He grimaced as he looked down at his lap, covered in vomit that was alarmingly liquid. That made sense, JJ thought, that she hadn’t really eaten anything today. He sighed as he found no suitable solution to the vomit. Not knowing what to do, or what he could do, JJ just got up with Tiff, who was now at least more awake, and feeling better. JJ put an awkward arm around her as they walked down the street, searching for Tiff’s house. Eventually, JJ recognized Tiff’s house, suddenly thankful that Cook had once described it to him in one of his lustful rants about Tiff.

JJ slowly staggered up to the front door, heart pounding in his chest as he led Tiff. He knew that no parent in their right mind would welcome any stranger carrying their drunk and nearly unconscious teenage daughter into their home. His heart quite literally pounding in his chest, JJ knocked on the door, glad to see the light on, hoping it wasn’t too late. Much to his relief, after a minute or two, the front door opened, and a tired Rebecca Meeks stood there in her comfortable clothes.

“Hi, Mum!” Tiff giggled.

Rebecca frowned as JJ just winced, trying his best to smile at the woman.

“I, uh… Brought Tiffany home…” JJ supplied.

Rebecca sighed exhaustedly as she looked at her daughter in her horribly intoxicated state, not necessarily shocked.

“Come on in, then,” Rebecca sighed.

Rebecca shut the door, allowing JJ in, which he was grateful for.

“You have a lovely home…” JJ tried.

Rebecca just stared at him, not quite sure what his deal was as she just sighed, looking up the stairs. She then looked back at JJ horrified as she looked down at his pants. JJ looked down, mortified as he remembered the vomit.

“Sorry…” was all JJ could muster.

Rebecca just looked at Tiff before sighing, running into the kitchen for paper towels.

“Here… Her room’s up there,” she said as JJ helped somewhat carry Tiff up the stairs.

“I’ll help you, ma’am,” JJ nodded.

He sighed exhaustedly, trying to be as gentle as possible as he and Rebecca ended up just kind of tossing stuff on her bed. JJ watched with pity as Tiff immediately closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep as she laid in her own bed covered in liquor and general disgustingness. Rebecca just shook her head, turning off the light as she brought JJ back downstairs. JJ stepped off the stairs as Rebecca crossed her arms, eyeing him.

“You’re not like the other one,” Rebecca observed.

JJ frowned. “‘The other one’?”

“Cook,” she stated.

“Ah,” JJ nodded, immediately understanding what she was noticing.

He didn’t necessarily know what to say.

“…How so?” he decided to ask eventually.

Rebecca frowned. “Somebody raised you,” was all she had to say.

JJ frowned again, not knowing what this meant, or how to respond to it.

“I…I guess that’s true,” he offered shyly. “Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler…”

“Why does everybody fucking call me that…?” Rebecca scoffed.

JJ gulped, fearing he’d offended her. “S-Sorry…”

She just shook her head. “Not your fault… Please. Just call me ‘Rebecca’, will you?” she asked, a certain exhaustion in her voice.

JJ just nodded. “Of course, Rebecca,” he rectified quickly.

She smiled at this. “I like you… You’re like a human puppy.”

JJ looked at her in confusion.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“JJ,” he offered, then suddenly realizing that sounded too informal, “Or… Jonah Jeremiah Jones,” he sounded almost ashamed.

Rebecca frowned. “Jesus. JJ it is,” she scoffed.

JJ chuckled, now feeling oddly at ease. Talking to Tiff’s mum was strangely like talking to Freddie and Cook, or Tiff. He couldn’t exactly explain it, but Rebecca had the exact same calming effect as her daughter. JJ saw, now, the resemblance between them.

“Rebecca…?” he piped up.

“Hmm?”

“So, you’ve… met Cook?” JJ wondered.

She nodded. “I have.”

JJ liked the way she talked; her sentences were often short, and concise. Like Tiff.

“You… You said that I’m different… From him,” he clarified.

Rebecca nodded. “I did.”

“How…” JJ felt strange asking this question, “How am I different, from Cook…?”

Rebecca frowned, taking a moment to answer the question. “Well, you’re much sweeter… Not that Cook isn’t sweet, in his own way, I suppose.”

JJ hadn’t expected this review of Cook.

“But, mostly… I can tell the difference between how Tiff sees the two of you,” Rebecca stated.

“Really?” JJ asked her, now extremely confused.

“Yeah,” Rebecca scoffed, “Tiff won’t talk about Cook unless I force her to. But she mentions you.”

JJ looked at her curiously. “She does?”

He had no idea why Tiff would do that.

“Mm-hmm,” the woman responded, “She does. Not a lot, but… enough.”

“But… why?” JJ asked her.

Rebecca smiled sympathetically. “Because she isn’t ashamed of you.”

JJ had about a million questions he wanted to ask in that moment, but he could utter none of them. He completely shut down, staring and stuttering as Rebecca looked at him nervously.

“JJ, are you alright?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded quickly, already heading for the door, “Yeah…”

Rebecca frowned, feeling horrible for the young boy, watching as he stumbled out of the house. She stood by the door, watching fearfully as he stumbled down the sidewalk.

“Get home safe, please, JJ…”

JJ nodded, but could say nothing as he just kept walking, or trying to.

-

part eleven.

[girlboypersonthingy]

omg i love your blog sm!! it’s been a while since ive been in the fandom and i didn’t think anyone wrote for vld anymore, ahhhh but i love the way you write!! you’re so so talented!! how do you think a love triangle sitch with keith and lance would play out? i love the both but UGHHHH THE DRAMA I LOVE IT😩😩

Oh my god thank you so much! I’m so flattered asfdafh 🥰🥹 I know the fandom is dead to most but not to all. I’m still here and voltron will always live on in my heart ❤️‍🔥 BRO THIS PROMPT??? PLZ ITS SO GOOD AAHHH ENJOY!

❤️Love Triangle💙

Okay first of all, these two would try to win you over IN COMPLETELY OPPOSITE WAYS.

Lance is, of course, over the top and very romantic and kind of cliche but so considerate and thoughtful and sweet.

Keith will be more nonchalant and mysterious, trying to use his skills and talents to impress you. He’s the type to slowly win you over by being very genuine and honest.

It started when Lance threw a pick up line your way and not only was the line terrible…but you actually laughed at it. It brought some pink to your cheeks as well. They both noticed that.

Lance was very smug about the fact that he made you giggle and blush.

Keith was a little annoyed at first, thinking Lance was just being his usual obnoxious self. So Keith just kept trying to make moves on you in his own way.

One day, Lance walked into the training room to see you and Keith sitting beside each other on the floor, breathing heavily as if you’d just decided to take a break. He couldn’t really hear what Keith was saying but you looked very focused, very into the conversation and you two were sitting just a little bit too close for his liking.

Lance didn’t like the eyes you were making at the red paladin

But Keith sure did. He was so excited to be sitting so close to you.

Then it’s like the spider man meme of them pointing at each other like 😧👉🏻 👈🏻😮

“Wait! You like (Y/N)? No no no, you can’t! I like (Y/N)!”

“Well I liked them first!”

“No! No! Dibs!”

“Really? Dibs?” *eye roll*

For the next week, they’re both acting like goofballs around you.

It’s kind of hilarious and very entertaining for you because…you notice that they start adopting each other’s ways of flirting and dropping hints. They do a little swap.

It’s like they think the other person has a better chance with you so they try to switch it up and copy each other. Lance thinks Keith’s ‘mysterious bad boy’ persona is something you’re into. Keith thinks you find happiness in all the silly, goofy things Lance does. So they both try to switch it up in hopes of making you fall for them. Does that make sense?

Imagine Keith trying to use a pick up line on you and failing miserably. He’s probably sweating through his shirt and his mouth is dry bc he’s so close to you, he can smell your shampoo. He’d end up stuttering and then getting really pissed at himself for looking dumb in front of you. May go back to his room and pout if he felt things didn’t go well.

Now imagine Lance trying to be all soft spoken and mysterious, trying to act cool. Lance trying not to talk too much is the equivalent of him holding his breath. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks character and says some dumb, cheesy shit that has you rolling your eyes. He awkwardly shuffles away to his room and also pouts bc he feels like he’s just loud and annoying.

The boys got into a yelling match about it once. The pot just boiled over and all you could do was watch.

That was their very shitty, joint confession of their feelings for you- them screaming about who likes you more, who liked you first, who you’re more compatible with, ect ect blah blah blah

All right in front of you

And all the while, the whole team is so confused

Cue Allura and Hunk stepping in between them because both their faces are turning red from anger and jealousy.

Everyone just looks at Shiro like 👀

Shiro, the dad of the group: 🙄😤 “fine…”

Shiro sits them both down for a long chat and by the end of it, the boys have come to terms with the fact that they both like you and not only is it your choice who you’d want to be with, but there’s a lot of other things to be worried about rn. They shouldn’t, and they won’t, pressure you.

Buuttttt…they do keep up some of the same things they like to do with you.

Keith still trains with you often (and he really enjoys helping you with your stance/posture bc he gets to be touchy✨)

Lance still invites you into his room to play video games (and he always seems out of breath when you sit so close to him, your arm touching his)

They try their best to control their temper around you and they try not to be around when you’re with the other person. They don’t need to see you being all close and personal with someone who isn’t them. :,(

The boys just continue to be their normal selves with you. They figure you should get to know them, the real them, before you make any decisions.

Yes, they both like you.

Yes. They’re both very competitive and very jealous.

But they respect each other and they respect you.

And we are in the middle of an intergalactic war right now, this is not a real priority.

They’ll give you some time and a pace to think about it.

Now comment on this post and tell me who you’d choose 😈 I love them both so so much but Lance is my soulmate for sure

[steddieas-shegoes]

i'm into normal dudes and women with blue hair

HAPPY DRAGON APPRECIATION DAY! Honestly, this is 100% a joke. But in a still sort of serious way. I wrote this literally today between work things and hockey things and life things, but I needed to post it today so it isn't edited and honestly it is very rushed. But it's fun! It's meant to be silly and goofy! This is for the girl with the dragon au herself, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation . Eddie would do everything in his power to fuck a dragon, especially if it's Steve, and I think you will agree with me on that. I hope this makes you laugh a little bit 💖 - Mickala

rated m | 2786 words | cw: implied sexual content, kinda sorta implied monsterfucking ? | tags: dragon steve harrington, crack fic not treated that seriously, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington

🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲

Steve doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not the flu or a cold. If it’s something serious, he’s gonna pretend it’s not. If it’s something Upside Down related, he’s probably gonna die, so it is what it is.

He just feels so warm on the inside, almost feverish, but his skin is fine. A little dry, maybe. Kinda cracked like it’s the middle of winter and he ran out of lotion. And he swears that he’s grown an inch. Maybe more. His pants are hitting above his ankle where they used to be just below.

Maybe it’s just heartburn. He did eat that taco with extra hot sauce last night, and bodies are weird or whatever.

He’s at work when his back starts hurting. He’s used to some pain in his muscles and bones, especially after the last bout with the Upside Down. He’s got chronic pain according to doctors, but it’s really not that bad unless he sleeps wrong or stands for too long on hard flooring or it rains or-

Well, it’s pretty bad a lot, actually, but this is different.

His legs start to cramp during his break, and he decides maybe it is the flu. His shift doesn’t end for another three hours, but he’s not sure he can make it that long on his feet.

He says that to Keith, who somehow managed to get a supervisor position at Melvald’s after everything despite not showing any effort in actually working. He rolls his eyes and complains about Steve trying to get out of working, says he’s never gonna become a team lead if he keeps avoiding finishing a shift.

Nevermind the fact that Steve has rarely ever left a shift early, even when he couldn’t see straight from a migraine or walk from his knee joints rubbing together until he was sure they would start a fire.

But he leaves, and he feels exhausted the moment he gets in his car, and he wonders how he’s going to get home.

The burning in his chest gets worse as he drives. His vision goes blurry and then suddenly extremely clear. He can see everything. There’s water droplets on the car in front of him, but it hasn’t rained. That’s weird.

Almost as weird as being able to see water droplets from his own car when he could barely read the license plate on the car for the first few miles that he was behind them.

He parks in his driveway and gets out of his car. The world spins a little.

He gets inside his house and collapses on his couch.

Everything goes black.

****

“Okay. So we just aren’t gonna call anyone else about this?” Robin’s voice breaks through Steve’s consciousness, and he blinks his eyes open. “No one else should know about Steve no longer being human?”

Steve finds that to be a concerning statement.

“I’m not sure what anyone else is gonna be able to do about his current situation!” Eddie whisper-yells.

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a weird growl.

And then everything else hits him.

He is much larger than when he passed out. He looks down and realizes the concerning words Robin spoke are even more concerning than he originally thought.

He growls again, louder.

“Okay, Steve? Stay calm. You appear to be a dragon. But like, that’s kinda par for the course! Like, I’m sure it’s temporary!” Robin is rambling and she is loud and the room is so bright. He’s not even sure how he still fits in the room.

“I just think if we called Hopper, he could at least figure out who needs to know!” Eddie ignores Steve’s growling.

Apparently, he can’t fucking speak, and he’s a dragon. So that’s cool, and he’s so glad he left work early so he didn’t have to explain becoming a flying fantasy creature to Keith or a random shopper. That would be quite a conversation.

“This is so bad. He can’t talk!” Robin ignores Eddie’s suggestion, which isn’t a bad one at all in Steve’s opinion. Eddie’s actually very logical and smart most of the time. Turns out when he’s not being wrongfully hunted by the cops, he’s a pretty chill dude. “Steve, can you write?”

Steve blinks and he feels something burning in his chest.

“Of course he can’t write!” Eddie exclaims. “He has claws!”

Steve tilts his head down and realizes Eddie’s right. He doesn’t have hands. He’s got claws. Sharp ones.

He makes a noise that sounds closer to a whimper than a growl, and the room goes quiet.

“Are you in pain?” Robin asks.

Steve looks at her concerned eyes, her bitten-red lips, her anxiously wringing hands. She’s gotta calm down before she has a full-blown panic attack.

He shakes his head once before leaning forward to gently nudge her hands with his nose.

God, this is weird.

“This is so fucking weird,” Eddie says under his breath. Steve’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have heard it if he were human.

Steve tilts his head so his nose nudges against Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie lets out a strangled laugh before he reaches a hand up to touch Steve’s neck.

“This is unreal.”

Steve finally recognizes the burning feeling as fire. He’s a dragon. He’s gonna breathe fire. This is so fucking strange.

He pushes up and somehow manages to turn his body until he’s facing the window. He won’t be able to open it without breaking it, so he hopes Robin or Eddie figure out his intentions. He’d really like to not burn his house down.

Eddie seems to catch on quickly, rushing to make room between Steve’s face and the window. He unlocks it and throws it open, hurrying away from Steve’s mouth.

Fire pours from him for nearly ten whole seconds.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie says when he’s done. “Does that hurt?”

Steve shakes his head again. If anything, it relieves him of that burning sensation that’s been in his chest all day. He feels lighter.

He’s still a dragon, though.

That’s a pretty big issue.

“Okay. Alright. We call Hopper. We swear him to secrecy. If the kids find out-“

“Dustin can never know about this. He’ll be insufferable during campaigns,” Eddie says, one hand caressing Steve’s scaly skin. It feels nice, soothing. Human Steve hasn’t had a caring touch in a while, so it might feel even better than usual. “But what if they find out anyway? What if he stays like this forever?”

Great question. Steve definitely wants to know the answer to that.

“Well, dragon and human marriage isn’t technically illegal, so I guess you’ll have your happily ever after,” Robin says.

Steve’s head swivels and he hears a crash.

Eddie’s hand is no longer touching him and that’s a shame because it felt really nice and it’s a pretty good distraction from the fact that he’s a very large dragon.

”What the fuck, Buckley.”

“God! I ramble when I’m nervous!” Robin is apologizing and Steve is wishing more than ever that he could talk. He needs to understand what the hell she means. “I’m gonna go call Hopper before I say something I shouldn’t.”

Eddie’s pacing the floor in the very small space that exists around Steve’s body.

Actually, he decides now is as good a time as any to take a look at what’s going on. He can feel how big he is, but it doesn’t really register until he turns his head to see the wide expanse of his body. He doesn’t see wings, which is bullshit. If he has to be a dragon, he should get wings, right? Eddie always draws them with wings. His tail is spiked, but not nearly as long as he expected it to be.

Damn, is he a disappointing dragon?

“Dude, I dunno what she was talking about with the marriage thing. Sorry if that made something weird.” Eddie is rambling now and Steve is focusing back on him instead of the way his chest and belly seem to be much more durable than the rest of his skin. There’s a lot to unpack with this development. “I’m not into dragons. I’m into normal dudes and women with blue hair. Probably also dudes with blue hair. But, normal dudes do it for me. Like you usually are my top pick. Oh fuck.”

Steve huffs what should be an amused laugh, but ends up just being a half-snort.

“I mean not that you aren’t kind of hot like this!” Eddie rushes to say. “If dragons were hot, you would be the hottest dragon around. In fact, there’s a voice in my brain that’s very curious about how this would work like…sexually. But obviously that can’t happen. It won’t happen! I’m sorry. I’m shutting up. Maybe even leaving.”

Steve’s mind is reeling. He’s even more frustrated that he can’t speak now that Eddie’s clearly talking himself into a hole he might not be able to climb back out of.

He didn’t even realize he was Eddie’s type. He didn’t even know Eddie was his type until a few weeks ago! And now he can’t do anything about it because he’s a dragon.

He huffs again, but this time in frustration.

“Hop’s on his way!” Robin yells as she walks back into the room. With both of them and Steve taking up almost the entire room, Steve notices how hot it’s getting.

“One of us should probably tell Nancy. She’s gonna want to know about this,” Eddie suggests. “And she likes you way more so it should probably be you.”

“I’m not leaving Steve right now. He’s in the middle of the biggest crisis of his life.”

Steve grunts. This is surprisingly not the biggest crisis of his life. Top three, maybe.

He nudges Robin towards the door with his nose. Her panic is too much for him right now, and Eddie’s is a different panic. He can handle Eddie.

“You want me to go?” Robin clarifies.

Steve nods his head once. More than once is a chore. His head is so heavy.

“Fine, but I’m coming right back after. I’m not letting you be a dragon alone,” Robin says before rushing out the door.

Steve looks over at Eddie and feels his whole body shiver.

What the hell is that about?

“Are you hungry…or thirsty…or anything else?” Eddie asks awkwardly.

Steve’s good. He doesn’t feel any pain for the first time in a long time. He isn’t hungry or thirsty. He shivers again.

“Are you cold?” Eddie must notice, stepping so close that all Steve can smell is whatever cologne Eddie wore today and his leather jacket. “I can shut the window.”

Steve leans his head down, nudges his nose against Eddie’s neck.

He jumps.

“Cold,” he breathes out. “Are you okay?”

Steve wants to tell him yes. He’s inconvenienced, but he’s okay.

He nods once.

“I can wait outside?” Eddie offers.

Steve shakes his head. He shivers.

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Uh. I think maybe you need to be outside.”

Eddie walks to his shoulder, touches just past what would normally be his shoulder blade.

It’s almost too much when Eddie’s fingers brush against the leathery skin there. Steve lets out a rumbling noise, something between a growl and a moan. He isn’t sure if dragons can moan, but he assumes they can be turned on, and Eddie’s touch seems to be doing that.

“You have wings,” Eddie’s voice is awed. “I don’t even know how to get you out the door. God, what if you’re stuck in here? Like a caged bird. I’ll break a wall or something. Wayne could patch up something for you. But the neighbors…”

Steve feels it more definitely now: wings trying desperately to spread behind him.

He probably should be outside. He can’t be right now, not here, but they have to figure that out if he doesn’t change back soon.

“Okay. It’ll be late enough in the next hour, we could probably get the sliding glass doors out of the way and maybe you could-” Steve cuts him off with a nudge to his neck. “I wish you could tell me what you’re thinking.”

Steve wishes that, too. He’s not sure how he’s gonna get out of this predicament without explaining what he does know, and he can’t do that if he can’t talk.

Eddie rests his head against Steve’s shoulder, and it can’t be comfortable, but he stays there as he fills the silence. Sometimes, Eddie talks too much. Right now, Steve’s glad he has things to say.

“...And Wayne insisted I tell you, but he doesn’t understand that you’re not into guys. He keeps saying you probably just never considered it an option, but that’s probably not true. I mean, you and Tommy were close and it seems like maybe if you were gonna be into dudes, he’d be your type.”

Steve huffs and Eddie laughs.

“Okay, okay. So he wouldn’t be your type. Tom Cruise?”

Steve knocks his jaw against the top of Eddie’s head. He’s gentle because he already recognizes the damage he could do if he wasn’t.

“Knew it,” Eddie sighs. “I have about as much in common with Tom Cruise as Wayne does.”

It’s quiet for a minute. Steve wishes he could say something, tell Eddie that he does think Tom Cruise is hot, but he finds Eddie beautiful, and that difference is important. He wishes he could tell Eddie that he doesn’t find Tom Cruise interesting, doesn’t think he would enjoy listening to him talk about campaigns and music and whatever random fact he read in a book.

Eddie’s head turns, and his mouth is brushing against Steve’s scales. He can’t believe he has scales.

And then he doesn’t.

He feels lightheaded, the room goes black, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s on the floor with his head propped in Eddie’s lap.

His human head.

Attached to his human body.

“Steve? Jesus Christ. Are you okay?” Eddie’s too loud.

Steve raises his hand and pats Eddie’s cheek, smiling up at him. “Can’t believe you would fuck me as a dragon.”

Eddie cackles. There’s no other word for the hysterical laughter he can’t seem to control from bursting out of him.

“I would fuck you as anything, I think,” he says when he finally calms down. He isn’t looking away from Steve and Steve isn’t looking away from him.

He’s suddenly exhausted, and he’s sure that whatever his body just went through is going to take some major recovery. Steve closes his eyes and holds Eddie’s hand against his chest.

“Tell Hop I started feeling warm inside and then grew and became a dragon,” he mumbles, yawns, smacks his lips together as he settles more in Eddie’s lap. “Might happen again.”

“Right. Should I take you to the hospital?” Eddie sounds far away now.

“Nope.”

Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead, brushes the hair from Steve’s face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m fine,” Steve blinks his eyes open, uses every ounce of energy he has left to do it. “Am I a normal dude?”

Eddie’s forehead crinkles. “What do you mean?”

“You said you were into normal dudes. Is that me?”

Eddie tenses under him.

“You’re a normal dude, yeah.”

“So you’re into me?” Steve closes his eyes again. “Enough to kiss me?”

“I cannot believe this is happening. This night has to be a dream. Or someone finally got their hands on me and killed me.”

“I like dudes who like dragons,” Steve says, smiling lazily as he curls up his body to fight off the cold. He realizes he’s naked, and should probably cover up before Hopper gets here, but he doesn’t want to move. “And dudes who play guitar and ramble when they’re nervous.”

“Oh,” Eddie gasps. “So…you like me?”

“Kiss me before I change my mind.”

Steve’s too tired to put much into the kiss, but Eddie leads, and it’s perfect. There’s not much he can do about his dick getting hard when Eddie deepens the kiss and runs his hands down his sides. He’s exhausted, but his dick isn’t.

Eddie manages to get them to the couch, and Steve manages not to fall asleep until after Eddie’s gotten him off. The mess can wait, but Eddie throws a blanket over them when he hears a car door slam and boots walking up to the door.

“Did you get high or was Steve really a dragon?” Hopper asks as Steve loses his battle with the exhaustion.

Hopefully he wakes up human, but he thinks even if he doesn’t, Eddie will still be into him.

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me, You Miss Me

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

@mc-i-r is writing another version of this and tagged me and my brain woke up, so here ya go. This is almost all dialogue, and my new love for Mrs Buckley.

----

"Hey Steve-o! Get in here!" Robin yelled.

"Thought you were talking to your mom?" Steve shouted back.

"I am! That's why you have to come here! The cord won't reach!"

Steve hauled himself up from the corner of the kitchen where he was reorganizing things for the third time since they moved in last week. There was a pile of boxes they really needed to open in the hallway, and his mattress was still against the wall, but he kept going back to the kitchen, trying to make it work despite there being only one pull out drawer. One. They noticed before they signed the lease, but they both assumed they could make it work somehow if they just tried hard enough. But. Third time's the charm.

Flopping onto the thrifted couch next to his best friend, he leaned against her head, and greeted, "Hi Mrs Buckley, how are you?"

"Now why can't you answer the phone so politely, Robin? Who raised you to be so impolite?"

"Yeah, mom, I know you love Steve more than you love me, you tell me every time you talk to him, now can you say it again please?"

"Yes, well, like I was saying, I don't really know why they were all so upset about it, but I didn't want to overstep, so I didn't tell them anything. Not really. Only that you had moved and that you were fine. It's not like that's a secret. Then I noticed that they didn't know about that and so I didn't answer the rest of the questions, which really only made them more upset, but I think they were upset with me, not with the pair of you, so that's perfectly fine, none of them were nearly as vicious as Robin was when she was fifteen and decided she--"

"Mom!"

Steve giggled. Robin's rambling came from her mother, that was certain, and it was worse when they were on the phone. They fed on each other's talking. Like that snake thing.

"Right, yes. Well, Steve, like I told her, those boys, the ones you used to babysit for, they came around to ask if I knew where you were," Mrs Buckley finally said.

Robin grabbed his hand with the one not holding the phone, and pressed her forehead harder against his as they crowded the handset. Steve didn't think he'd reacted, but they didn't need anything as boring as a visible reaction to know each other.

"They said that they went into the video store and saw someone new at the desk, and when they heard that the two of you were no longer working there -- Apparently that manager of yours had some unpleasant words on the subject. You know I never liked him? The first time I stepped in there he asked me if I was still married? Not like that, of course, but it was still very strange. I didn't like it. And according to Robin he was always like that, wasn't he, Steven?"

"Yeah, he was pretty weird," Steve answered numbly.

"Well, that Keith fellow told them you were no longer employed there and that curly haired one demanded to know where you were employed. Since its not like he knew even if he would have told them, those boys went looking for themselves. I guess they went to your house first, Steven, and must have seen the for sale sign. I don't know what your parents are thinking, selling with the market like it is right now, but no one has ever made either of your parents listen to a single word of sense in their lives."

"Mom, the point?"

"Yes, sorry dear, like I told Robin, eventually it must have occurred to them that the two of you would be in the same place and thought to come by. Well. I say come by. First they called, and your father, you know how he is, simply said you were no longer in residence and hung up on them. He thinks he's so funny. Oh! Make sure you remember to call next Tuesday to congratulate him. It's his first day as the lead manager in the office. Oh no, wait, does it count as long distance for you? Never mind, I'll place the call so you don't have to worry about it."

"Mrs Buckley? You were saying something about Dustin?" He was proud that his voice was steady. They left Hawkins eleven days ago. They started packing two weeks before that. His parents put the house on the market around the same time. It wasn't until today that they noticed.

"Yes, that's the one. So Dustin didn't take your father's humor well, and he and his friends came by earlier this evening."

"Wait, evening?" Steve interrupted, "It was dark? They were biking around in the dark? In this weather?"

"Oh goodness no, that young man drove them. The one that was in the papers that the pair of you helped last year. He was much more polite than they were. Well, once I told them that you'd moved, they all started shouting over each other, I was sure that Ms Wickley was going to come over and scold them."

"I'm sorry, ma'am--"

"Oh you don't need to ma'am me Steven, I've told you that."

"Mom, he was just trying to be polite when he asked you to please get to the point, so can you, you know, try to get to the point some time tonight. You're paying for the call, but jeez."

"Oh yes. Well it occurred to me while they were all shouting that if they were your friends like they were saying, they would have known that you were moving. So when they managed to calm down enough I could hear a thing I said, I refused to tell them anything else. It's none of their business if you don't want it to be. And that Dustin boy said that you were his best friend, right in the same sentence he said he hadn't seen you in a month. But, I wasn't entirely sure if I was wrong about it, so I did promise I would ask you if you wanted me to pass on your information."

"Good job, mom, you finally got back to it. This is why I had you come over here, so you could hear that last part. I should have just asked you. Do you want my mom to give them our number or address or anything?" Robin had rolled her eyes over her mom's rambling, completely unaware she was just as terrible. But then she stared at him, concerned and outraged and protective and sad. God, he didn't know what he'd do without her.

"Did they ask?" Steve said.

"Ask? I don't think a single one of them knows how to ask anything. They certainly shouted a lot of demands. If you don't want me to tell them, I have no complaints about being the villain in this story. After everything you've done for my girl, being there for her before she even told me, and now making sure she's safe from any kind of trouble up there, you're such a perfect - what was the - beard? I think that's what I saw in that article in that magazine. Oh, no, the Zine, I ordered. But even without all that, I'll happily shut the door in their faces every day for a year if that's what you want done."

Steve's next breath stuttered, and that was all Robin needed to see.

"Hang on mom, I'm going to put the phone down, don't hang up, we'll be back." She sat the handset on the couch, then dragged a throw blanket over it to muffle their voices completely.

"You okay there or do I need to make a snap decision about which is going to be our household's vomit bowl?" He pushed her shoulder half-heartedly. "Okay, yeah, we both know it's gonna be the one with the cow on it. But you okay there, Stevie?"

"I'm fine."

"No you aren't."

"I'm fine."

She gasped, "You would lie to your soulmate? To her face?"

"I'm not! I'm fine! I just... I don't know, Robs."

Robin watched for a second as all of the muck of emotions bubbled inside him. Then she, as she always did, understood him.

"You want to say no. You want to tell her not to let them know where we are, but you're also freaking out because the brats come find you whenever It's back."

And because for a second, he desperately hoped that they missed him, or wanted to call so they could apologize for the last months. She didn't need to say that part. He half shrugged, sort of nodded, and bobbed his chin towards the throw blanket.

"You sure, Dingus?"

"Yeah."

"Is it gonna be Hopper or Joyce?" she faux wondered as she grabbed the phone from its prison. "Mom? Hi, back. Yeah, thank you. I'm gonna hand the phone to Steve now."

She didn't move away, but she didn't share the earpiece.

"Hi Mrs Buckley. I guess I -- could I ask a couple questions first?"

"Of course dear. What would you like to know?"

"Did any of them say anything weird or really specific?"

"Like what?"

"Like, about the mall, or last spring, or, bats, or uh, did they say anything about their dungeons and dragons game?"

"No. Why would they?"

Steve forced his shoulders to relax. El said it was done, but four years of it coming back meant he'd never fully trust that as true.

"No reason I guess."

"Well. That Munson boy did ask me about a radio right at the end. After the others stomped back to the driveway. He came back and he seemed - well he asked about a radio. And I said you certainly had a radio in your car, but I think he may have been talking about something else. Is that what you meant?"

"Okay, uh. Yeah. Thank you. I guess."

"So what would you like me to tell them next time I see one of them? If you'd like to take your time about it, you can. They were quite worked up about it, but it's a little ridiculous to act like they were owed something if they didn't even notice you two moving. You knocked over a stop sign with that rental truck."

Steve laughed. Couldn't help it. "I really can't wait, ma'am. They'll be back tomorrow morning to bother you." He gave Robin a look she immediately returned. Even without hearing the other half, she understood how true that was.

"Of course they won't, they have school," Mrs Buckley argued.

"Yeah, just means they'll be at your door even earlier."

"Well that's rude."

"Yeah, that's them. So, um. You can be rude back if you want. Don't, uh, you don't need to answer their questions. If you don't mind that they're not going to take it well."

Mrs Buckley laughed, loud and cackling for a moment, making the phone go staticky. "Oh dear, it would be my absolute pleasure to be rude right back to them. I'm much better at it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, you know Jim Hopper?" The resounding silence promised she was giving him the same judgemental look Robin was. "Sorry, that was dumb. But can you give him our number? Not to share with them, just so he has it. And, funny story about radios, but, the one that -- that that guy asked about is in your hall closet. Top shelf, next to the popcorn tin. Give Hopper that too?"

"Certainly, anything I should tell him, or should I ask to return the phone to my ridiculous child that you're generous enough to live with so I can say good night?"

For some reason, it made him think about the returns box at the store. A handle pulled open, the movie dropped inside, and nothing else needed. No one had to explain why they were giving back their copy of Breakfast Club. They had it for a while, hopefully they enjoyed it, and then when it was done, when they didn't need it anymore, or when it was overdue, when they kept it longer than they should have, costing them more money to keep around than it was worth, when they decided they were done with it, they didn't write a letter and explain why they--

"No. But, just. Tell him its for emergencies or something. Thank you, bye, or, goodnight ma'am, Mrs Buckley, uh, here's Robs. Bye."

He climbed off the couch as he shoved the phone at her, and headed for the window in his yet to be unpacked room. Rob would kill him in his sleep if he had a cigarette, but if he had any, he'd have taken the risk.

The glass was so cold it was painful against his forehead when he leaned into it, and he watched the little flurries of snow on the street kicked up by the wind. They didn't even notice for a few weeks. They'd quit Family Video a week before they left, and he knew the kids watched at least a few every weekend. They must have gone in, multiple times, and just, not noticed. Or not cared.

He wasn't sure which of those was worse.

He wasn't sure why it hurt when he made his peace with it weeks and weeks ago. It hadn't ached so vividly since the fall. Worst of all was the shock of concern for them, thinking they were out on their bikes in the dark and the snow. Then the relief that Eddie drove them. The feeling was huge enough to eclipse anything else until he knew they were safe.

Hadn't seen them in a month, barely seen them before that, and his first instinct was still to drop everything and grabs his keys. He was two hours away, and his brain was itchy to go drive by and check on them. They didn't need him to do that. They didn't want him to.

And based on how his stomach lurched when he heard that they didn't know he'd left, he didn't think it would do him any favors to go back. Hop and Joyce knew how to handle them if they started to do anything too risky, and the kids were practically glued to Eddie's side.

They weren't his to look after.

"Stop staring out the window like your lover is lost on the moors," Robin complained, wrapping him in a hug from behind.

"I have no idea what that means, Robs."

"Good, I'll explain it to you. Come on, lets go, we've got a kitchen to reorganize. I already started stuff for popcorn and hot chocolate. Lets gooooo, you're too heavy for me to carry, hup two."

Steve snorted and let her drag him away.

"I thought we were going to get my room set up, so I wouldn't have to share with you again?"

She gave him that look. That one that was fond and frustrated and sassy as shit. The one that said she wasn't going to let him get away with being dumb, but wasn't going to call him on it.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. You can share with me for a while longer. Now do the hot chocolate, and don't skimp on the whipped cream. We bought that can on sale and its going to go bad any second. Just use all of it. Directly into our mouths if we cant get it balance on the mug. Don't want to waste it, and we deserve it. I'm on popcorn duty, and then we're going to defeat this puzzle, Harrington. We outsmarted the Russians, we can outsmart the dishes!"

Shit. He sniffled as he followed her orders.

He was so damn grateful he still had her.

-----

Next>>

Still don't do tag lists. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[still--kicking]

dude. I just binged the chapters of part time soulmate full time problem and WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WHY ARE YOU SO FREAKY GENIUS??? IT'S AMAZING

it's so smart how you've linked your head canons so smoothly with canon I was literally lying in bed with my mouth wide open becase DAMN. I didn't even get a chance to shut my mouth because every other line was A BANGER.

like oh my god the detail about Adam giving Keith the fingerless gloves because he tends to dig his nails into his palm??? mm mm MMMM SO GOOD. theres so much more but I'm going to wait for the fic to be completed I'm SOO EXCITED your writing is everything I need

i loovvveee it

AJEKDKSDJDNND thank you so much for reading and for sending me a message about it omggggg this made my day!!!! 😭❤️💙

Not gonna lie, I was also shocked by how well some of my ideas fit into canon 😂 it's honestly really satisfying to write this fic like parts of it just fit so well and ajskdksksj there are some scenes later on that I am soooo excited to share with you guys

Also, I'm so glad you liked the detail about the gloves!!!! I considered having Shiro give them to him but I feel like Shiro's approach to this problem would have been to try and get Keith to break the habit altogether, and Adam would be watching all of his efforts like ...yeah that's not gonna work

Completing the fic will unfortunately probably take a hot minute just because it's going to be long as hell so please feel free to scream into the void (my inbox) as much as you want in the meantime !!!! It really does make my day to hear what people think about the fic and it helps justify the fact that I pour literally all my free time into this fic lmaoo thank you again for coming to my inbox to yell about it with me!!!

❤️💙

(ps. chapter 8 will be up later this week ✨)

[steviewashere]

Rhetorics and Bad Days

Rating: General CW: None apply! Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has a Bad Time, Steve Harrington is an Ugly Crier, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Forehead Kisses, Slight Love Confessions, Getting Together (Sorta Kinda/More Implied Afterwards)

Tripped and fell last night and wrote 3.2k words. Inspired by @scoops-aboy86 idea and my stupid little headcanon from this post!

💕—————💕

It seems like everyday was a bad day when you were somebody like Steve Harrington. Considering the good majority of his life the last four years, give or take, has been a cartwheel of nightmares and torture and blood and injuries—And, well. Obviously he has bad days.

Though, typically, it can be resolved and done over with a hot shower, maybe some stupid movie that he honk-laughs at, a warm blanket and a freshly dried pillowcase. Little things. Little good things that are able to calm him some, at least. Give him something else to think of, at most. He doesn’t have to do anything like cry or breakdown or yell until his voice is hoarse, that’s what he tells himself. Because, what’s been ingrained in his head, men don’t cry. Men don’t get hysterical. Men don’t break that emotional mold.

Though those words are definitely booming and deep and flat like his dad’s. That’s not his brain. Those aren’t his words. But it sure as hell is what he’s been exposed to for far too long.

And maybe that’s why, standing in the barren living room of his brand new (albeit worn down, caulked heavily, all too warm) apartment, he finds the rhetoric silenced. In a fresh space. With crooked blinds and awfully filled tack holes. A kitchen fit for a (former) king. Little breakfast nook that only allows for two dining chairs under the south facing windows. Barely any sunlight able to stream through. His bedroom cramped with just a queen sized mattress placed haphazardly on the floor, definitely crushing some well-loved Playboy magazines, crooked to the wall at his head because the movers carrying it were too tired from the recently odd mid-fall heat, and a decently sized freshly made spiderweb in the corner—he shivers at the thought of something alive and crawling watching him sleep at night. And the glorious bathroom—preemptively marked with darkened piss stains on the floor and a smell birthed from over-indulgence on alcohol. 

It’s his, though. Well, his and Eddie’s.

Eddie has his own bedroom, similar size to Steve’s (think of a shoebox used to bury that poor hamster from your youth, dead from eating too many baseball cards), ceiling light stained with god worshipping moths, and a window that half-opens if he jiggles it the right way. They share that grimy bathroom. And he brought the living room couch, something that had been sitting on his and Wayne’s back porch for some time, definitely a little mud stained and mildew smelling from rain, but it’s not the worst. Not the best. Not even good. But it’s their space, freed from the confines of Hawkins, new and shiny for all of Indianapolis to see.

The rhetoric is gone in Steve’s brain. Like skin shed from his sunburned body. Peeling and crackling to every surface he finds himself on or leaning against or standing with. It evades him. Leaves him with something viciously young and terribly hungry.

Steve Harrington is prone to bad days. Bad weeks. Bad things.

The unfortunate luck begins anew an exact week from when they move in.

October 20th, 1986 is his first day back at Family Video. He’d been transferred, referred much to Keith’s dismay, but probably his pleasure, too. (Considering how immediate his response had been to Steve’s question.) But it was his first day back. Didn’t need to be trained. Just hooked like a fish to deceased worm bait, thrown out to the river that is their block’s neighbors and strangers and mere acquaintances that feel no better or worse about having new people take residency on their street, but he’s also not reeled back in at the end of his shift. If anything, he’s tangled in his own wire, flopping, gasping for water, drying to the gravel by the shallow give of the river’s flow. He is stranded behind the register. Returning customers telling him he should know what they like, or what discount they need, or how many movies they’ve checked out previously. That he should know that a particular customer is friends with the owner of the Family Video he so sorely resides in. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. So he makes do. He powers through it. Feigns mundane annoyance like gum flavorless between his teeth, though he’s biting his tongue to not sob.

That’s not where the bad ends. No. Of course not.

He’s within walking distance to their apartment. Which should be fine. In fact, it’s incredibly handy because even if he were running late to work, he could blame it on something stupid. (‘My key broke off in the lock, had to bother the landlord.’ ‘Yeah, had a leak in the bathroom this morning, have to report it just in case it tries to flood the downstairs neighbors.’ ‘It’s odd, seems like the lock loves to devour my keys.’ Nervous laughter.) But just because he’s within walking distance does not mean that life is plainly simple. No, what happens is he gets soaked with dirty road rain water. Was it mentioned that it’s been raining all day? No? Well, it has been. And it’s a downpour. Forecast said it would happen tonight, not midday, not while he’s trying to power walk home so he can make the peanut butter and jelly sandwich of his dreams. But it does. Because of course. And some asshole, screaming out their window to tell him that he should’ve worn a raincoat, speeds by. Coating him from collarbone to toe in the mucky rainwater of a city that’s too busy for a place like bumfuck Indiana. At least in Hawkins everybody knows your name; at least they have the common decency to let you stroll on by before they make a major move like that. But in a city bustling with busy, selfish, awful people—because aren’t all city inhabitants like this, should he have realized something like this was bound to happen? Well, he did. Just didn’t think it would take less than a month for it to occur.

Sopping wet. Exhausted and burnt out. Hungry like a rabid stray dog. He walks briskly. Skipping over the cracks and lines in the sidewalk, no matter how much disdain he tastes for his mother. Missing freshly spat out gum by mere centimeters. Shoulder checking a few too slow pedestrians, their sneering faces burning into his back. And the next awful thing comes in like a planned prank on some mocking little sitcom show. Dog shit. Pure dog shit, brown and putrid and soft on the sole of his right Adidas Superstar. His brand new shoes. The shoes he got himself less than a month ago. Shoes that he had been eyeing for years, but couldn’t muster the courage or the reason to buy them. And now there’s dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. He smears it on the concrete, squishing it further into the ridges of his sole, scraping it against the harsh ground. Tries his best. Checks the bottom of the shoe precariously. And without missing a beat…topples down onto his ass, thankfully away from the smeared shit, but down onto the ground nonetheless. He prickles, stands up on his shaky legs, dusts off his ass, and storms the rest of the way home.

Maybe he shouldn’t slam the door. But it’s barely anything in comparison to the rest of his day. He shouldn’t do it. He knows that it could get them a noise complaint. Though, the way it vibrates against his back, settling deep into the wood, stepping out of his sneakers to wash in the tub in a few—it’s all too good. 

The anger begins to dissipate from him in just that small action.

Then, again like a well-mannered sitcom scene, in barrels Eddie from his bedroom. Arms crossed over his chest, hip popped to the side, harsh scowl to his face. “Man, are you fucking serious?” He spits.

“What?” Steve asks, panting, breathless, absolutely done with today. With tomorrow. With the rest of this week.

“I told you this morning that I was going to be studying in my room! All day! Told you that I wanted it to be quiet, and the first thing you do when you get home is slam the door shut?!” He growls. Snarling, he continues, “And what about the noise complaints?! We can’t afford any of those, we need this place! Could you not—“

Steve pushes past him, shoes in hand, work bag slung down like a bomb to the floor. Leaving its contents scattered. A copy of Airplane! on VHS, some stickers reading ‘Be kind, rewind’, measly three dollars, and his Family Video vest. All of it strewn about their place. Pooling murky water on the surface, just as Steve’s clothes were dripping everywhere else. He closes himself in the bathroom, but doesn’t lock the door. In fact, that stupid fucking lock doesn’t even work. Nothing works. He stays in there anyway. Really, they should clean in here. Clorox the hell out of every surface. Maybe see if the piss stains will come up with a harshly gripped mop. But instead of those important things, he tosses his sneakers into the bathtub, and sits with his head in his hands on the closed toilet lid. Mushy socks to the tiled floor. Pants uncomfortably drying and chafing on his legs. Underwear like a second skin to his balls. His polo tight across his back and terribly moist.

Shoves his palms harsh into his eyes and whistles through his nose. “Fuck,” he mutters, lip wobbling with the word.

A tentative knock to the door startles him. “Steve?” Eddie’s voice rings out. It’s murmured, careful, testing the syllables on his tongue. “Hey, can I come in? I’m—“ He sighs, the anger he had before blowing away from him. “I’m sorry,” he sincerely apologizes. “I’m sorry that my first instinct was to get mad. I—“

“Just come in,” he croaks. It’s not very loud, but it must be enough because Eddie pushes the door open mere seconds later.

He sighs, mouth downturning when he sees Steve on the toilet. Meekly holds up Steve’s also brand new messenger bag. Stained like the tiled flooring under their socked feet. It’s sodden and depressing. “Hey,” he mutters. 

Steve just hums in return. Looking up to Eddie from the toilet, he must be a sorry sight. All soaking wet, spine hunched and scrunched in a horrifically twisted amalgamation, hair limp in his eyes. Something has to read on him for Eddie to be gazing at him the way he is. All big eyes and sorry mouth and his shoulders slouched like he’s admitting defeat. Part of Steve doesn’t want him to, wants him to keep getting riled, yelling about their lease and the slammed doors and the forgetfulness that seems to flow through Steve just as easily as blood. Wants to be called names. Wants to have a non-delicate conversation about how much of a screw-up he is, how he should’ve listened to his father and never moved away, why he’s a disaster of a person. Tell Steve all the ways in which he’s deserving of the bad days. Deserving of their frequency. Deserving of misery.

“Are you—No, you probably aren’t, but I’m asking anyway. Are you okay, Steve?”

That—Well, that breaks something in him. The final block on his wobbling tower of everything and too much. Under his skin, like weak twigs, his ribs are snapping. Crumbling beneath him to make room for the way his lungs expand with the need to gasp. The need to hiccup his way through a terrible explanation.

His mouth twitches, lips pursing. Looks away. “I—“ Steve rasps. “No,” he sobs.

Warmth crowds him, all too sudden and all too much. Hands gravitating to his magnetic pull. Squeezing his shoulder and pushing back his stringy hair. Though, immediately and dizzyingly, he is reminded of that stupid rhetoric. He shouldn’t follow it. Shouldn’t even allow it to have the vice grip it does on his brain.

But he shakes Eddie off, standing uneasily from the toilet, walking around him. He paces into the kitchen, hungry and shaking and needed to do something. Get his energy out one way or another. Fight off the tears, no matter how relieving they would be. Clatters through the cupboards. Finds the cheap, shitty, generic white bread. And an already half-eaten jar of peanut butter, odd peaks and valleys in it as if somebody’s been chowing down on it with a spoon. That doesn’t matter, though. At least there’s any peanut butter at all.

Eddie’s not too far behind him. Standing in the kitchen’s entryway, hands floating in front of him, reaching out for Steve. “Hey, Stevie, I can make you a sandwich. Y’know, if you want to change out of your clothes. Must be uncomfortable,” he’s placating.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Steve lies to himself. Because he needs this to be true. Just this one good thing. One thing he can do for himself. Make something he wants to eat. Something he’s been thinking about all day. Something that plasters an easy enough smile to his already half-puffy face, tears encroaching and sobs clawing their way up to his throat. But when he grabs for the jelly, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He slams the door of the fridge closed. No jar in sight. Not a single kind. No marmalade or strawberry jam or even the nasty grape jelly he bought for when Robin visits. There’s nothing. “Are you—“ He groans, huffs, and hiccups.

Attempting to cover himself, he shoves his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes.

The one thing he can’t let Eddie see, because crying is going to happen whether Steve likes it or not, is that he’s an ugly crier. The ugliest, and he knows that. All bubbled snot and dripping its residue over his top lip. Lips bitten red raw from muffling the sobs. Spit burbled in the corners of his mouth. Choking on wet gasps, hiccuping with his whole body, trying to drink the air around him. Skin going splotchy red and hideously swollen, the swelling still apparent even two hours later.

With the first sob, he knows it won’t be possible to hide this breakdown. Eddie’s already inching closer, hands still out in front of him. Steve is a wounded animal, it seems like. He cries loud and shameful, mouth dropped open, his saliva bubbling between his teeth. Already choking on his first gasp.

“It’ll be alright, Stevie,” Eddie tries to soothe, “We can get more jelly, it’s alright.”

“No,” Steve cries, “No! It’s not—“ A series of short, hiccuping, wet gasps. Followed then by a snotty snort, bubbled and causing his breath to whistle. “Such a bad day,” he attempts to explain, voice keening, high pitched in the back of his throat. “Everybody was so mean—Clothes are—All wet and gross—“ Heavy swallow like trying to consume large shards of glass. He flaps his hands at his sides, scrunching them, trying to squeeze himself back to his ordinary box. But instead, more snorting sobs leave him.

Eddie places a warm hand on the back of Steve’s neck. Thumb digging into a knot that’s forming. He puts his other palm on his bare arm, coaxing him over to one of the dining chairs. Settles him down and crouches in front of his sob-riddled, hiccuping, contorting body. Holding Steve’s face with one hand, he reaches for the crumpled bandana in his back pocket, raising it between them. “Look at me, Stevie baby,” he murmurs, “Let me help you.” Steve drags his eyes away from where they’d been zeroed in on the floor. Locking with Eddie’s own sad and soft gaze. “There you are,” Eddie whispers. He gently strokes Steve’s cheek with the edge of his bandana. Gliding it over his skin, patting at the drying tear tracks. His other hand, thumb wedged near the corner of Steve’s mouth, wipes away at the spittle. “I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he mutters, “But we’ll get it back on track, alright? You’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise you’ll be okay.”

Steve’s lips wobble. “I thought you were mad,” he nasally whispers. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Stopping his slow and careful work, Eddie stares in heartbreaking dismay. “You deserve nice things, Steve. It doesn’t matter that I was mad. I’m not mad anymore.” And then he runs his bandana over the snot trails under Steve’s nose. Looking on with an odd mix of sadness and reverence. Thumb not even wiping anything away anymore, simply caressing over Steve’s heated, swollen skin.

He swallows glass again. Blinks sluggishly. Calmed down, oddly. This is probably the quickest cry he’s ever had. He chuckles, “God, I’m such an ugly crier, man.” Sighs. “Can’t believe you’re willingly wiping at my snot right now. ’T’s nice.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, sweetheart. I don’t even think you’re ugly.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“What—I’m being honest!” Eddie quietly exclaims. He shifts the hand on Steve’s jaw, palm cupping his cheek, fingers splayed over his ear, holding him in a sweet yet fragile way. “Steve, you’re, like, gorgeous. I hate seeing you so upset, but you’re like an angel or something when you cry.” He draws his bandana away, but brings it back to cover the end of Steve’s nose. “Blow into this,” he instructs. And so Steve does, blowing out whatever didn’t already leave him in his crying episode. Eddie pulls it back again, not even grimacing at what is surely a squelching snot-covered mess in his hand. He massages his fingers into the hair around Steve’s ear. Gazing. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, reiterating. “And you deserve nice things, especially after what a clusterfuck of a day you must’ve had. And you deserve to breakdown every once in a while. Don’t have to hide just because you think you shouldn’t cry or because you’re ‘ugly’ or whatever.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve squeaks. Face flushing with heat, gratefully not from tears. He flashes a small smile, modest but there, for the first time today. “You really mean all that? Even when you called me sweetheart?”

Eddie is bashful, smile stretching, going red in the face, tilting his head as if assessing. But the lovesick sheen to his eyes says he’s already made up his mind. “Yeah,” he murmurs, careful and devoted, “yeah, baby. I do mean all that I said.”

“Can I have one more good thing?” Steve tentatively asks.

“What’s that?”

He touches between his eyebrows. “Forehead kiss?” (And sure, maybe he does pout a little, but can you blame him?)

Eddie, without missing a beat, leans forward, fiercely cupping Steve’s cheek, pressing a slightly damp kiss to Steve’s skin. Then under his eyes. The tip of his nose. Corner of his mouth. Pulls back, whispering, “You can have all the kisses you want, sweetheart.” Still caressing Steve, he offers, “How ‘bout I go get you some new jelly while you take a warm bath? And when you’re out, clean clothes and not shivering, we can curl up on the couch and watch that movie you got?”

“Okay,” Steve mutters.

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs back. He presses one more kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Let’s make this a good day, baby.”

💕—————💕

[kuroochako]

singers + lovers to exes to lovers jaith au 🔥🔥🔥 made in collaboration with @im-an-emotea

okay so i got the idea for this au listening to Leonard & Marianne by Bastille on repeat so give that a listen maybe 😇

the song is important for a scene that happens kinda late in the story (also there’s not really a story. i’m not good at this help) AND i also have a playlist for this au 🔥song suggestions are welcome

THIS GOT VERY LONG I DIDNT MEAN FOR IT TO BE SO LONG IM SORRY I UNDERSTAND IF U DONT WANT TO READ ALL THAT 😭🙏

also i’m getting so self conscious now that i’ve written it all out sorry if this sucks :/ this is what’s in my brain i guess…

Keith and James are around 17-18ish, they’re both just starting out their career in music and recently released their first projects with two kinda famous recording companies. As it happens, the media is immediately putting them against each other, comparing their sales, sound, image (idk you get it.) because they both have a young audience, so without even knowing each other there’s this kind of “rivalry” already established between the two for that short period.

James has been studying music for his whole life (singing and piano+guitar), and i think his parents probably are famous musicians (not singers tho) that pushed for him to study music when they noticed he was good. They didn’t really expect him to end up persuing a “pop star” career but they had the connections, they could make it happen. I think his label initially wanted to stick him in a boyband (1D style) but he ended up solo, so they sorted out a Justin Bieber kinda thing for him (sorry Jamie you have a pretty face the pre-teen girls will go crazy for you) [also sorry i was never into boybands or justin bieber and the like so idk if it makes sense i’m working with what i saw online 💀]

Keith of course has his signature raw talent (his voice is insane) that carries him with the minimal training that his agency made him go through while recording and before releasing. His sound is very different from James’ but is still marketed towards a young audience, think more punk/emo [i also don’t know anything about this.]

His parents situation? I think both dad and mom are alive and well (for my sanity) but they have nothing to do with music. They’ve always supported Keith’s passion and got him a guitar and lessons when he was little, he’s been playing and writing on his own since he was a kid, probably put some of his songs on soundcloud as a teen and tiktok too probably, which is how he blew up and got noticed (by shiro of course).

So, when they both release music with their agencies they get interested in the other because of the media pressure and end up thinking “damn, this guy is good.” while their initial assessment was more like “who does he even think he is”, and of course keep in mind they’re both the primary writer and composer for the majority of their songs, which is why they got interested in the first place.

They meet at an award show and basically spend all night talking because, after a rather awkward introduction, they both felt instantly captivated by the other. There’s some teasing but mostly they talk about their connection to music, process, visions, ideas and the like. Not sure if they win anything that night but at some point Keith proposes to ditch and go “have fun” somewhere else and James (reluctantly) agrees, because yk he’s a stickler for the rules and doesn’t want to get yelled at but Keith was much too fascinating to him to end their conversation so soon (and didn’t want Keith to think he was a loser).

So they spend all night together (until dawn) walking around and talking and even end up making out a little… (horny teenagers)

They end up getting together at around 18-19, they write together, release songs together, their fanbases go Crazy for them, they’re an It couple to anyone 20 and under

But their relationship is a little rocky, they’re in love but aren’t the best at communicating, they get jealous, they both have explosive personalities, they argue a lot (but still stay together for years) and don’t really talk about it after, just “forgive” each other and move on.

I know this isn’t the best but yk. When they’re not arguing they’re amazing. That’s what keeps them together. And their music.

They have So Many songs together, and even for their own original projects they help each other out and are credited on a lot of them.

The good parts overshadow the bad ones and so they stay together until they’re 22. Codependency goes brrr.

That’s when worse comes to worst. They have a Big Fight at their apartment one night and go to bed without resolving. Keith decides that night that he’s done and packs up his things while James is asleep. He gets in his car and literally drives away to the other side of the country. No notes, no texts, nothing. Just packs and leaves. Not the ideal way to break up with your boyfriend of 4 years but you know. It was an impulsive decision, and when he really got to think about it with a clear mind he was already hours away, so he decides to stick with it and “move on”. Except he doesn’t, he can’t.

[also. i’m very sorry. idk what the fight is about 💀 worst writer in the world i know. suggestions are welcome from someone with relationship experience (or not)]

James notices Keith’s gone the next morning but doesn’t think too much of it because Keith’s done that before, until he notices that all of his stuff is gone too. So he calls Keith. Over and over again. But he doesn’t pick up. He sends a thousand texts, keeps calling, calls Shiro (he answers, but he has no idea where Keith is either). He gives up that night when Keith finally blocks him.

Cue the bad coping mechanisms. They both disappear from the public scene for a while. They’re both miserable. James smokes way too many cigarettes and Keith ghosts all his friends and spends his days drinking and angrily playing guitar.

The break lasts 3 years, during which they do try to move on but really can’t. They “date” other people - Keith goes out with a lot of guys that resemble James (both physically and personality wise, yes he has a type) but it never works out because they’re either assholes or boring or try to talk shit about James (he can’t stand that, he still loves him), while James doesn’t really stick to the Keith theme and dates just about anyone, but keeps thinking of him and can’t even find anyone who looks/acts like him enough to pretend. Pretty often pics of their dates appear and cause uproar, plus both of them see them and sulk for days (they want to get back together so bad but as time passes they think the other hates them now). Their friends can’t stand them anymore because that’s all they talk about. All their songs are still about each other. The break-up albums go so fucking hard and sell so well. So at least they’re still successful.

(I think James tries therapy to move on, unsure if it helps with moving on but at least he learns that he needs to communicate)(Keith uses song-writing as therapy)

Also, imagine trying to move on from someone who’s constantly trending and charting, on billboards anywhere, on the radio, social media. They never see each other during those years except when they’re at the same events, but they always keep their distance.

This is where the song comes into play!! It’s the scene that inspired the entire au (also maybe it’s really stupid now i’m getting self conscious 😞)

They’re both on tour at this point in time, they have a stop in the same city the same night, which also happens to be the date of their breakup anniversary (really fun)

They both sing a cover of Leonard&Marianne of course thinking of each other, but it wasn’t planned, it was a spontaneous decision to add the song to the set list to “celebrate” their anniversary, which of course only they knew about.

The crowd lowk loses their mind, imagine live-tweeting at a Keith concert that he’s singing that and finding out James is doing the same song in that moment 😭

So yeah the whole thing goes viral, but keith and james have no idea until the show ends, their managers don’t even know if it’s a good idea to tell them, but they find out.

The moment Keith hears he gets in his car to go see James (he finds out what hotel he’s staying at after begging Shiro to ask Adam (i hc he was lowk a mentor to James and they regularly keep in contact)) without even thinking about it, he only realizes he doesn’t know what to say when James opens the door.

All Keith manages to spit out is something along the lines of “what the hell was that shit you just pulled” and James doesn’t know what to say, he just stares at him before realizing that they probably shouldn’t stand in the hallway and pulls him in his room.

So they’re in there just staring at each other, Keith is waiting for an answer, James can’t believe he’s there right before his eyes, but eventually he says “i’ve missed you” with his stupid sad puppy face and keith just wants to kiss him

this is the part i thought less abt so it’s gonna be short, i think they end up hooking up that night, they try not to talk about the elephant in the room, the next morning keith leaves but they promise to talk about it and eventually they do start dating again from the start, going on dates again, getting to know what they did during those 3 years apart etc etc

not very set on the “ending” at all tbh, i’d like to hear some outside perspective on the whole thing

thanks for reading if u did!

here’s the playlist, song suggestions welcome

[alt-vera]

— whiskey girl ⁀➷

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joel miller gives his whiskey girl a gift.

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✿ | joel miller | 1.06k | ❛ whiskey girl - toby keith ❜ | part one

warnings: pre outbreak!joel miller. drinking. allude to sex. age gap.

note: who knows when im gonna post again lol stay tuned for part two tho

❝ just ain’t enough good burn in tequila, she needs somethin’ with a little more edge and a little more pain ❞

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JOEL MILLER LIKED HIS GIRLS LIKE HE LIKED HIS DRINKS.

　Strong, neat, and not cheap enough to make him gag.

　That’s why he liked you: a farmer’s granddaughter majoring in agriculture who worked hard for what she had and knew the value of respecting those around her without being walked over. A little ragged on the edges, but Joel liked ‘em rough.

　Same could be said for you. You liked Joel for the same reasons he fawned over you. He was charming, and assiduous, with enough edge worn into his features to draw you in at the drop of a dime.

　So, when you invited Joel to a local dive bar on an eventless friday night, he sure as hell wasn’t going to say no. It was rare for you both to be free; usually he was working late, or you had classes, or tests, or were helping on the farm.

　He saw your worn mustang parked by the entrance, and spotted you instantaneously as he walked inside. A welcoming aura surrounded you as you chatted with some old men, presumably other farmers who knew you from your last name and came in for a drink after a sweltering day of plowing fields. Your smile gleamed under the warm lights of the bar, and Joel couldn’t help it as his lips curled into a smile just from looking at you.

　“Haven’t been making you wait long, have i?” He drawled as he sauntered up to you, hand making it’s way into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you closer to him.

　You directed your smile his way before bidding your goodbyes to the old folks. “‘Course not, Miller. You know that if you did, i would’ve given you hell as soon as you set foot in the door.”

　Joel chuckled, running his free hand through his messy hair. “Fair enough, darlin’. You need a drink?”

　“Please,” You replied, and Joel put two fingers in his mouth, throwing a loud whistle at the bartender.

　“Can i get a beer and a, uh,” He glanced over to you for a moment, deep eyes meeting your own, before a smirked danced across his features, “…a whiskey, neat, for my girl, please.”

　You couldn’t help as your cheeks warmed at his words. My girl. You rolled your eyes, turning your face away from him so that he couldn’t see the ruddy heat spreading across your face.

　The two of you didn’t have a label. You drank together, you kissed, you fucked. You’d make dinner for him and his daughter, and he’d take you for drives at sunset down empty country roads, radio blasting through the open heat waves as you yelled gleefully out the windows.

　Still, anyone who looked at you and Joel knew there was something there, even when his hand wasn’t in your back pocket or your fingers were grasping his forearm. You were his girl. And he was your guy. No denomination necessary.

　One whiskey turned to three before you were singing along to the jukebox in the corner of the bar, holding up invisible microphones to random folks who’d join you in your performance. Joel watched, amused, as you twirled around to the twang of the guitar blaring through the speakers. His smile grew as you crept closer to him, pretending to reel him in to dance with you like a fish caught on a worm.

　Little did you know that you already had him from the moment he met you. Hook, line, and sinker.

　His hand found yours as he gave in, not much of a dancer, but eager to spin you around. You let him lead you, swaying to the pace of the music, pulling you closer to him as the tempo continued on.

　He pulled you flush against him. Forgetting the music, forgetting the dancing, forgetting the watching eyes. He kissed you, a passionate catch of the lips that left you craving more, the dull glow of amber above you acting like a spotlight that shone on you and Joel solely.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

　Joel couldn’t help himself as reached a hand up and drew a sloppy happy face on the fogged up windows of your mustang. Your head laid on his bare chest as you both fought to catch your breath, crickets chirping loudly in the farm field, audible even through the barrier of your car.

　You felt him bury his nose in your hair, breathing in the smell of you. Vanilla, and sweet musk, and whiskey. He felt you smile against his pec, eyes stealing a glance up to meet his.

　“I have a present for you,” He spoke suddenly, voice worn and husky.

　“Better than the way you just fucked me?” You joked with a light chuckle, feeling his arm move as he went to fish something out of his jeans that had fell on the floor of your backseat.

　He held the gift in his large hand before opening his palm to you to reveal a small wooden box. His fingers inched it open, and inside was a thin-banded ring with a dainty diamond in the middle.

　You turned dreadfully quiet as you stared at the band, and an anxious prickle crept over Joel’s skin.

　You raised yourself off his chest, turning to look at him. “Joel, if you’re proposing to me before even asking me to be your girlfriend, then i’m going to chuck this out into the field.”

　“What?” He laughed, inching so that he was sitting upright. “No, no, it’s a promise ring,” He said, plucking the jewellery out of the box and grabbing your hand, pushing it delicately onto your ring finger.

　“Ever since Sarah’s mom up and left, datin’ has been hard. I didn’t even wanna look at another woman—“ Joel’s deep eyes met yours, and you felt your heart swell, “—Until i met you.”

　“I don’t want t’distract you from your studies,” He continued, “But you’re my girl, and i want everyone to know it.”

　There it was again. My girl. Your pulse raced as you kissed him eagerly, full of adoration. Joel could still taste the smooth relish of whiskey on your breath.

　You smiled at him euphorically as you pulled away, words leaving your lips before you could even register the weight of them. “I love you, Joel.”

　Joel’s thumb stroked your cheek affectionately, returning your grin. “I love you too, my little whiskey girl.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

🧁Congrats on 3k followers!🧁 You were the first steddie person I followed and I'm still so glad I did! 💕

For the sentence prompt, I'm picking a line from my favorite love song - Fair by The Amazing Devil:

"Darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades at night when light is fading"

Me? The first?! That’s a huge honor and I am definitely not crying about it (lying). I hope you enjoy!

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Steve’s migraines were bad when it rained, even worse when he’d been outside all day. Nothing helped except sleeping it off.

And pressure in just the right spot on his forehead.

It was hard to get it right on his own, and Robin was always just a bit too harsh with her fingertips against his skin, pressing too much at once in too many places. Eddie managed to touch just right sometimes, but it was hit or miss.

It was so fucking frustrating.

Eddie was frustrated too, especially when the pain got to a point that Steve didn’t even want him near him. Every smell, sound, and accidental touch made him nauseous.

They had rain most of the day, and Steve’s work day had started with Keith berating him for not rewinding one tape before putting it back on the shelf. It ended with a customer trying to steal candy from the shelves and yelling at Steve when he got caught.

By the time he got home, he could barely feel his fingers from how hard he’d been clenching the steering wheel as he drove, doing his best to focus on the road ahead. He just had to get home, then he could wash his face and get in bed.

Eddie was playing music while he made dinner, and it was nearly impossible for Steve to do anything but rush past the kitchen to their bedroom. Eddie would figure it out quickly.

Within minutes, Steve was standing at the bathroom sink in only his underwear, hot water running over the washcloth he planned on holding on his face until he could breathe again.

“Stevie, you okay?” Eddie whispered when he walked into the room.

“Migraine.”

“I’ll get you some water and the ice pack.”

Steve lost track of time as he finished up in the bathroom and settled in bed. His head wasn’t pounding so much as exploding into new galaxies every time he blinked. Somehow, closing his eyes made it worse.

He managed to make himself as comfortable as possible, barely even moving when Eddie placed the ice pack on his forehead and eyes.

“10?” Eddie asked as softly as possible, keeping his distance, but staying close enough for Steve to touch him.

“Mhm.”

“You need me to sleep on the couch?”

“No.”

The bed shifted slightly as Eddie moved further under the covers on his side. “Okay. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

The spot on his forehead was pulsing and the ice pack wasn’t doing shit.

“Turn on your side,” Steve asked, voice shaking as he tried to bite back a whimper of pain.

He felt Eddie move, and when he reached a hand out to see if he’d understood what he asked, he couldn’t help his lip turning up at the corner in an attempt at a smile.

Sometimes he was convinced the bat bites had connected them in more ways than the soft camaraderie of recovery. Sometimes it felt like they were reading the other so well, they shared a brain.

Steve slowly moved forward, wincing when his body made contact with Eddie’s. Steve pulled the ice pack away.

“Sweetheart?”

“Just a sec,” he replied.

Eddie was as still as a statue, something so rare, he probably reserved it for these moments.

Another reason Steve was certain Eddie was better than he deserved.

Steve leaned his head forward, letting out a small groan when his forehead made contact with Eddie’s back, right between his shoulder blades.

He pressed his head forward, not able to relax until he found-

There.

He nearly moaned with relief.

“Found it, angel?” Eddie whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment of painless ecstasy Steve was experiencing.

“Mm.”

“Stay as long as you need,” Eddie added before focusing on slow breathing so he wouldn’t disrupt Steve’s resting place.

Steve sighed and let himself enjoy this moment for as long as possible. He closed his eyes.

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

When Steve woke up, the light was almost gone between the curtains and Eddie’s breathing was slowed like he was asleep.

His head still ached, but the pounding had gone, and when he looked down at Eddie’s face, everything was clear.

He’d found a place to heal in Eddie. First, his arms, then his heart, and now, the place between his shoulders.

[anxious-alyssia]

thoughts and opinions on James Griffin from Voltron, Cannon and/or Fannon version.

oMG THANK YOU

I LOVE James.

I love him but know almost NOTHING about him (canon and Fanon wise)

I hate how he would bully/pick on Keith but he grew up, grew out of it, therefore I love him. I also love his character design, hehe

Watching Tiny Keith beat him up was thrilling and one thing I wished happened in season 8 is when the paladins (+ Coran, can't forget Coran he's such a gorgeous man) and the pilots and the people from the garrison were having one of their many meetings (I think it was the first one they had, actually. I can't remember) and I someone said smth that someone else didn't agree with and Shiro was try calm them down and they just weren't having it and James started yelling at them about chain of command and following orders from superior or some shit and we see Keiths face and I cannot put into words how badly I wanted someone to point out that Shiro technically wasn't their leader anymore and that current leader (Keith) had yet to tell them to shut up and how dare you you need us to save your sorry asses stfu and aahshdgdjdjdjdgfg

But they're not like that and they wouldn't say that but every time I think of James I think of this and I just sit and think.

My all time favourite ship with James is Jeith/Jaith because YES??? There probably was a time when I knew of another ship w/ him but now I can't think of not one.

We don't see James a lot but for the little we do see he has so much character development and I just love him so much like he was this shitty little asshole and then he's grown and responsible and there is no grudge or anything with Keith or anybody- I mean, why would there be? Canon doesn't add the details, just the basic outline and it's up to fanon to fill it in :) (says the girl who doesn't even know the Fanon)

I love James yelling, being yelled at, spying on people, and I wish we had more of him

I read this ask, started to answer it, then spent so much time just thinking about James instead of actually typing, lmao.