#i literally couldn’t be normal seeing this trailer

[teensy-weensy-octopus]

“He’s not on his own.” What if I exploded??

“We’re all on our own” WHAT IF I EXPLODED???????

[aemondsbabe]

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.” 

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page. 

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces. 

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more. 

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another. 

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering. 

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board. 

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips. 

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging. 

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned. 

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again. 

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead. 

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat. 

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks. 

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them. 

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?” 

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade. 

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner. 

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.” 

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder. 

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men. 

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers. 

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses. 

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.” 

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter. 

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware. 

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.” 

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him. 

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. 

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering. 

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck. 

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain. 

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves. 

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck. 

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder. 

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt. 

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach. 

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.” 

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister. 

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase. 

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail. 

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place. 

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush. 

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice. 

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window. 

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.” 

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute. 

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?” 

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act. 

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?” 

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth. 

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem. 

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook. 

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?” 

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?” 

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low. 

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket. 

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.” 

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request. 

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you. 

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.” 

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?” 

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“Do you?” 

“Fine, yes.” 

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables. 

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes. 

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone. 

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together. 

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles. 

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?” 

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing. 

“You.” It comes out as a breath. 

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark. 

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.” 

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.” 

“None?” 

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.” 

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. 

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair. 

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his. 

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.” 

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger. 

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands. 

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling. 

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine. 

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.” 

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading. 

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump. 

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly. 

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk. 

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.” 

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric. 

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip. 

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath. 

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat. 

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand. 

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need. 

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit. 

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?” 

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl. 

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table. 

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally. 

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses. 

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric, 

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child. 

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you. 

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud. 

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit. 

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers. 

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open. 

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment. 

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?” 

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance. 

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.” 

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down. 

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.” 

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock. 

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?” 

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock. 

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately. 

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release. 

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release. 

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair. 

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin. 

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things. 

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.” 

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down. 

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat. 

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air. 

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[steviesbicrisis]

Steve’s best relationship wasn’t even a relationship. He could barely call it a fling, a flirt. They never even went on a date. They never kissed.

Steve still thinks of it as the best whatever-it-is he has ever had with someone.

At the beginning it was mostly infuriating, how quickly Eddie managed to win the kids over, compared to Steve’s months of work as babysitter/nailbat swinger/monster fighter. Steve had to literally bleed multiple times to get an ounce of respect, Eddie only had to run a nerdy club about fictional bleeding and monster-fighting.

Then somehow, and Steve still has trouble pinpointing when and how it happened, everything changed.

Taking the kids back home from hellfire became something he impatiently waited for.

He and Eddie would barely talk for a few minutes and he would find himself replaying the conversation in his head for days. Anything he could say to get a reaction out of Eddie became fundamental, and if he started by picking subjects to piss him off, he ended learning about Eddie’s favorites, because few minutes after hellfire were never enough and Steve needed Eddie to talk as much as possible, until the kids were begging to drop it and go home.

Steve never questioned the change, most likely out of fear. He doesn’t think he ever was clueless, just really scared about what would potentially mean to be staring at another dude’s eyelashes as he goes on a rant about why Ozzy Osbourne is the best artist of his generation. Or blush whenever said dude would call him “baby”, or “sweetheart”.

Steve convinced himself that the thing he and Eddie were having was as good as it was going to get, nothing more.

Then Chrissy Cunningham died, Eddie ran, and Steve realized that the thing will never be enough for him.

He couldn’t not have Eddie. Not watch him as he entertains a bunch of freshmen, as he stomps with his worn out sneakers on top of forniture, as he puts his terrible music on to push away anyone who doesn’t care enough about him to stay.

Steve needed to see Eddie being alive, doing what his heart desires, and he needed to be next to him when he does.

Obviously, this realization came at the worst possible time.

Steve tried to tell him so many times: when they found him at the boathouse, when he was hiding at refer Rick’s house, when they were taking a stroll in the upside down, and even when they were driving a stolen trailer to a gunshop.

But, it seemed, Eddie had come to a realization just as important and he tried his best to avoid Steve at every given chance.

Steve tried to initiate the conversation as Eddie did his best to run away from it. And he ran until Steve had no chances left to tell him how he actually felt.

———

Steve doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say he lost something he never had. To mourn a relationship he never began. A partner that, technically, never became a partner.

After Eddie dies, Steve has no one to be next to but he can’t say he ever did.

Steve just exists waiting. He can’t tell if he’s waiting for the pain to go away or for Eddie to jump out of a bush and yell “ah! I got you sucker!! By the way, I’m in love with you too.”

For obvious reasons, that never happens.

What does happen, is a call.

It’s a normal Tuesday, as normal as you could define it after Hawkins almost collapsed into the upside down. Steve got into a routine, between checking on the ones at the hospital, helping out at the shelter, allowing Robin to check on him to see if he’s still alive.

The call happens while Robin is doing her kitchen check up - aka making sure he has food and that he’s eating it-, so she picks the phone like she did a million times before.

“Harrington residence, this is Robin” she says, cheerfully.

Steve doesn’t pay much attention to it as he’s folding his dad’s old clothes that intends to donate to the shelter, until he hears Robin’s loud gasp.

“What is it? Is it the hospital? Is it Max?” He rushes to the other room where Robin is.

She doesn’t answer but she gives him a look as she passes him the receiver.

Steve goes quiet, a million thoughts going through his head as he takes the phone from Robin.

He’s still unprepared when he hears that unmistakable voice “Baby”.

Steve gasps for breath “Eddie?”

Is that really you? What happened? Are you hurt? Isn’t this impossible? Is what goes on in Steve’s head, but he ends up just asking “are you okay?”

He can hear a chuckle, Eddie’s wicked chuckle, a further confirmation that it is him, “I’m- hanging in there… are you okay?”

Steve finds the question absurd. He isn’t the one who got left in the upside down, the one that got eaten by demonic bats, the one who died before Steve had the chance to tell him how he felt.

He answers truthfully nonetheless, “I’m… I’m not okay.”

“I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Please Eddie, come quick.”

“I’ll break the sound barrier for you.”

[dangermousie]

Now that I’ve checked out enough of all three newly-ish cdramas: Fangs of Fortune, Love Game in Eastern Fantasy and The Story of Pearl Girl, the results are kinda surprising.

I am, as you can tell, OBSESSED with Fangs. That is unexpected because while the trailer was gorgeous I couldn’t really figure out much that would make me obsessed from the summary and all the actors except TJR were either ones I am indifferent to or downright dislike normally. And now I love them all. I don’t know what’s the biggest surprise for me - Cheng Xiao, until now literally my least favorite actress from any country’s dramas, giving a good performance that makes me invested or HMH who I remember thinking of as so handsome but so bland but is now just utterly on fire and has entered Dylan in CLJ “you had THAT in you? How?” territory. And the story and the themes and the visuals! I haven’t seen a drama catering this hard to my personal narrative and character preferences since Novoland Eagle Flag.

Eastern Fantasy is even more of a surprise tbh. At least I was interested in peeking at Fangs for the visuals. I almost didn’t even check out Eastern Fantasy at all. I enjoyed the novel but that is never a guarantee of anything with adaptations (and it was never a major love of a book anyway), I like Esther a lot but not enough to watch stuff just for her. DYX is someone I have a soft spot for but not a single drama of his worked for me in years to the extent I kept joking he’s cursed. I hated all the trailers and posters - they looked kooky and not in a good way. Plus my track record of liking it when shows try to go for funny is abysmal and the whole thing seemed targeted to an audience that is so young they are still in middle school.

Only checked out because I had some time and omg it’s funny and clever and darling and the performances and characters and dynamics and the vibe are all on point (and so is potential for angst.) Soooooo good!

And now Pearl. It was by far my most anticipated of the three - trailer was cool, love the leads (and the fact that they reunited!) etc etc. But now? It’s a solid enough drama and enjoyable but it’s my least favorite of the three. A lot of it is genre viewer mismatch - I don’t really like “woman makes her name in trade with a side of hot scary man who eventually helps her” (see 2022 A Dream of Splendor - a well acted big hit that left me utterly cold.)

I just don’t care about the mechanics of trade or Horatio Alger stories even if Horatio in this case is a beautiful young woman. ZLS starts talking about cuts of profit for selling jewel waste products and my brain shuts down. It doesn’t help that while I find LYN character realistic for who he’s supposed to be, their dynamics so far do not make me ship them in the least and in fact I want her to lightly stab him (I genuinely don’t see how it will switch to her liking him.) It’s the same issue I had with Dream as well - just as here the chemistry was great but it was not a shippy dynamic that does it for me.

Oh well, that’s why it’s fun to watch new things, you never know…

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

okay don't ask how i got this out so fast, im literally so fuckin obsesessed with this series right now.

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

PART THREE: the weekend

thursday.

“What in the hell did you put me up to?” Gator’s voice rings out across the barn a couple of hours later. You wince, hearing the anger swirling under the tense tone as his footsteps thunk closer to you across the wooden floor. You’re still facing Bubbles, trying to get her untacked but it’s not easy when you don’t have a step ladder, you didn’t check if there was one in the trailer when you left and you didn’t feel right going snooping around the Tillman barn, afraid it might get you in trouble. 

“It’s just a few days,” You roll your eyes, grateful that he can’t see you because something tells you that the Tillman didn’t take kindly to bratty behavior like eye rolling. Not married yet or not, you were pretty much belonged to Gator now in the eyes of society in Stark County, nobody would bat an eye if he reprimanded you for it. “And i put us up to it, genius.” 

“Well gee, Pearl, you could have fuckin’ consulted me first, dontcha think?” He’s right next you in the stall now, his much larger hands moving yours out of the way as he could actually see over the top of your horse to undo all of her stuff. “Why the hell would i want to spend my weekend babysitting my sisters?” 

You scoff, turning to face him with your hands on your hips. You roll your eyes again and you know he sees you as his eyes narrow. “Ya know what asshole, you’re fuckin’ right!” You say, not going to put up with any of his damn attitude. “I shoulda slid right off my horse, left your daddy right out there in the field and come find you just to ask if it was okay.” He opens his mouth to retaliate, or maybe to tell you off for cursing at him or getting cross with him. “I may be younger than you but i’m still an adult, Gator, i’m gonna be your wife not your fuckin’ kid, don’t ever expect me to wait and ask your fuckin’ permission to do shit unless it’s necessary. That isn’t how this is goin’ to work.” 

He doesn’t say anything but pulls the saddle off of the horse with a huff and you turn on your heel, leading her out of the stall and out to the trailer. Gator stands in the stall for a moment after you’ve gone, listening to the clip clop of the horses hooves as you guys go. He closes his eyes for a second, readjusting the weight of your heavy ass saddle before guiltily following you along. You weren’t wrong, he was being an asshole. He hated being wrong, and he hated apologizing even more but he couldn’t let you go around stomping your feet and being mad at him all damn weekend, something told him that probably wasn’t in his best interest. And besides, he did actually feel bad for snapping at you like that, you didn’t deserve it. He did like seeing you get all riled up like that though, the storm that started brewing in your eyes..it was a nice change from your normally friendly and people pleasing personality. He liked that you obviously knew how to stand up for yourself too.  

The door of the trailer was open by the time he had finally meandered his way out of the barn, and he can hear you getting the horse settled into it. He makes quick work of putting the saddle into the back of your Jeep, closing the door and making his way to the trailer. He watches you, one arm braced against the metal door as his eyes follow your movements. You pat your horse on her long nose and then turn around, hands on your hips as you step down onto the ground of the driveway. 

You’re staring up at him expectantly, chewing your plump bottom lip with your hands on your hips. It took all the will power he never knew he had not to put his thumb on your fucking mouth, stopping you from what you surely couldn’t have realized was a surprisingly sinful act. He licks his chapped lips, looking off to the side before sighing. “I’m sorry for bein’ an asshole.” He says quietly, brown eyes searching your face for any sort of reaction. “I shouldn’t have snapped at ya like that..” 

Your face softens and something close to a smile graces the corners of your mouth as you push his chest lightly, your hands no longer defensively on your hips. “Apology accepted.” You say, meaning it. You had forgiven him the moment you had snapped at him too, you knew he was just as new to this whole situation as you were, you guys were still learning one another, that wasn’t any excuse to be yelling at each other but it was a reason to never let it happen again without at least trying to talk first. “But i’m not sorry for snappin’ back at you. You deserved it.” 

He laughs, a genuine, hearty sound coming from his throat and brings a hand up to muss your hair as he helps you close up and lock the trailer. “Alright..suppose we better go get that lunch you were talkin’ about earlier and then go pack up your stuff for the weekend.” The sun was fully up now, and even though it was only nine thirty in the morning, and he had all of an hour and a half of sleep under his belt, he was ready for lunch with you, and he was ready to get his dad and his wife out of the fuckin’ house so he could maybe relax just a little bit, maybe get a few more hours of sleep..

After a small squabble about who’s going to drive the Jeep you’re pulling up to the curb of Gator’s favorite diner in town, and he’s letting out a breath of relieved air as he steps foot on the ground. 

“Oh stop bein’ so dramatic!” You laugh walking side by side with him up to the door of the busy diner. He had spent the whole ten minute drive with one hand braced on the back of your seat and the other braced on the dash, telling you to slow down or to not hit your brakes so damn hard or to stop taking corners so fast and sharp with a damn horse trailer attached to you. You rolled your eyes after every comment, but found them more and more endearing as you heard the actual fear in his voice. That wasn’t the first time a boy had been scared to be in your passenger seat before. 

“Stop bein’ such a bad fuckin’ driver!” He retaliates, brown eyes wide as he holds open the door of the diner for you, you cackle and duck under his arm, breathing in his cologne and the smell of that damn fruity ass vape that he keeps puffing on. “You’re a menace to the road, Pearl, i swear!” 

He hears you mocking him and pushes the back of your head gently as the two of you find an empty space in the busy restaurant, a booth in the back corner next to windows where the light shines in. He insists on taking the side of the booth that faces the rest of the diner, wanting to have a good view of any potential danger (though he doesn't tell you that). 

A friendly waitress sidles up to the table as the two of you settle, you giggling after he mutters something more about your driving. “Mornin’ Gator, miss.” She says, nodding at the two of you. She’s plump and motherly, her hair brown and curly. You can tell from the smile on her face that she clearly knows the boy across the table from you. “Coffee for you, hon?” 

“Yes Ma’am,” Gator nods, one of the friendliest looks you’d seen in your whole short time of knowing him on his face as he looked up at her, his brown eyes filled with warmth you hadn’t seen towards anyone before. “And..i’m feeling lunchy today, how about a patty melt and fries, please?” You realized he must come here pretty often if the waitress knew his coffee order, and he didn’t need a menu to order. 

“You got it Gator,” She says warmly, turning to you next. “And for your..friend?” 

“Fiance, actually.” He says before you have the chance to speak, you’re stunned for a moment and so is the woman. This is the first time anyone outside of your families and the people directly involved with the wedding planning had been told that you guys were technically engaged, your face flushes as the realization and the weight of the title actually being out in the open for the first time. 

You can tell that she wants to ask more questions by the furrow in her brow and the hesitation before she clears her throat, but she thankfully doesn’t pry any farther. “And for your fiance?” 

You give a sheepish smile, that quickly turns to a deep rooted frown when the friendly woman tells you that they don’t stock flavored coffee creamers, or serve iced coffee. “Dr. Pepper then,” You say, the smile returning back to your face as Gator makes a mental note to stop by the local coffee shop for you on the way back to the Augastine ranch. “And I’ll do chicken tenders, with fries please!” 

She gives a smile and says she’ll be back soon, as soon as she gone Gator cracks up laughing at you. “What?” You pout, and he only shakes his head at you, causing your pout to deepen. “It’s not nice to laugh at people, is there dirt on my face? Gator!” The way you whined his name struck a different kind of chord in him and he quickly stopped laughing, shaking his head as he situated himself in his seat. 

He knew most men would have found the whining annoying but it was clear you didn’t do it on purpose, and it sent a tingle down his spine when you said his name like that. “Flavored coffee creamer?” You roll your eyes and kick him under the table, which only makes him laugh more. 

You had to admit, you liked how young and happy it made his face look when he laughed, and you wished he would do more of it. 

A couple of hours tick by as the two of you sit in your cozy little booth in the diner, eating and bickering and laughing at each other as customers come and go around you. He was sweet in his own rugged, rough way, your own personal diamond in the rough. You didn’t mind, it just meant you could have fun chipping away at him and softening him up around the edges. The more you got to know him over the past week, the more you started to think that maybe this marriage thing wouldn’t be so horrible. You could both learn to love each other over the years, and who knows, maybe you would fall in love in the way that all those people in the movies did. You had always wanted a silver screen romance..

Gator pays for the both of you before you can even dig your credit card out of your stupid little purse, which causes you to pout. “Hey, I was the one that asked you to come eat!” You argued and boy just sighs, giving you a pointed look that clearly said to shut the fuck up. You pout but don’t push on the matter, letting him steal the Jeep keys off of the table top as you slide off of your fluffy, overstuffed bench. 

“Alright, lets go pick up your stuff for the weekend and drop your trailer off,” He had work tonight again and he was hoping to get a couple extra hours of sleep in before his father left. The nights were always longer when he was tired, but he wasn’t going to complain. Gator loved his job. 

You follow him through the crowded diner, staying right underfoot. You hadn’t realized before but people were staring at the two of you, it made your cheeks flush when eyes bored into you as you walked and nervously, you grab onto the back of his shirt. He stiffens beneath your touch, and cranes his neck to look at you, eyebrows furrowed under the brim of his hat. “People are staring.” You whisper, he purses his lips and looks around before shrugging as you get closer to the door. “Why are they staring?” You weren’t used to attention like that, and you were afraid that somehow it would get back to Boyd that you were here with Gator and you would somehow get in trouble for it, fiance or not. 

“Because i’m the Sheriff’s son, and this is the first time i’ve been out in public with my fiance.” He says, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Sherry probably went and spread the word while we were eating, it’s no big deal Pearlie, the whole town was gonna find out one way or another.” He pushes the door of the diner open with one hand, and with the other he grabs your hand off the back of his shirt, using his grip to push you in front of him out the door. 

“I figured they would have done an announcement in the paper or somethin’ by now.” You mutter, hands in your pockets as you walk side by side to the jeep with him. You don’t argue when he opens the passenger side door for you, but you do give him a shit eating grin as you step up onto the running boards to climb in. 

“Yeah, well, they’re probably leaving that up to us too.” He mutters as he closes your door and quickly walks around the front end. You thought it was rather sweet of him, opening the doors for you, but you wouldn’t say anything, you didn’t want to freak him out. He wastes no time in pulling away from the diner, casually driving your car with one hand while the other rested on the gear shift on the center console. 

You studied his hand, how much bigger than the gear shift knob it was, you could barely fit your own around it but his smothered it, leaving no trace of it under his palm. His thick fingers tensing and untensing around it, as if he were squeezing it like a stress ball. You bite your lip, looking up as the car comes to a stop and he throws it in park. “What are we doing?” You ask, noticing him lifting his ass out of the seat out of the corner of his eye, shoving his hand in his pocket. 

“You ask a lot of questions, you know?” He quips, grabbing a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet holding it out towards you. You simply stare at it, and then lift your big ass, curious eyes to stare at him. He sighs, sagging against the seat. “Go in and get your damned flavored coffee, felt bad they didn’t have it at the diner..” 

You feel your cheeks start to flush, and though you were tempted to argue and tell him he didn’t need to stop, you felt yourself unbuckling your seatbelt because that was just too damn sweet. You start to get out of the car, grabbing your purse when he clicks his tongue at you, shoving his hand at you again. You decide it’s best not to argue, you don’t want to annoy him anymore than you clearly already do without meaning to, you take it, using the grip on his hand to pull him across the console. You kiss his cheek sweetly, pulling away with a smile. “Thank you..” You say, turning and jumping from the Jeep as quickly as you could without hurting yourself. 

Gator is stunned by the show of affection, his neck flushed red from the interaction. He shakes his head, fighting back the smile on his face by putting his vape to his mouth as he watches you happily skip into the fucking coffee shop. “She’s gonna be the death of me..” He grumbles to himself, running a hand down his face after breathing out the fruity flavored vape that he filled his lungs with. 

You’re grateful that he’s with you when you go home because you can sense Boyd’s mood before you can see him, the house is still and quiet, the girls off at school for the day, the nanny is not needed until this afternoon. You walk through the front door with Gator laughing about the way he had narrowly avoided a hoof to his head when he was walking with Bubbles, you giggle at him as he exaggerates the scene that you had had your back turned to, shaking your head as you start for the stairs. 

“Where have you been?” His voice is cold and sends a shiver down your spine. You stop in your tracks, one hand on the bannister and turn to face him. You don’t dare look at him, but you put a complacent smile on your face nonetheless. You can feel Gator behind you, his hands sliding into his pockets much like they were on the first time he had been to your so-called home. 

“I was on that ride with Roy,” You say, calling Gator’s father by his name, he tenses behind you at the mention of the man, and you’re tempted to glance up at him and offer him a comforting smile. “And we got to talking about the wedding and what not and how i would like his girls to be in it, and he thought it would be a great idea,” You’re starting to babble, and you begin to worry that your words aren’t making any sense because of the way that his face changes. “So now Gator and I are here to pack up a bag for me because we’re going to be watching his sisters while their parents are gone for the weekend..” 

“We stopped and got an early lunch first,” Gator steps in, you feel his hand on your lower back and it brings a sense of calmness to you for some strange reason. “She was hungry..sorry, i shoulda had her call you or somethin’ didn’t mean to make you worry, Sir..” 

Boyd is quiet for a long beat, his jaw ticking like it does when he’s angry and trying not to show it. You swallow back your fear knowing that you’re safe with Gator here. 

“When will you be back?” He narrows his cold eyes at you, they hold no emotion other than the contempt that you know he feels for you, and that makes you nervous for what you’ll endure when you come home Monday afternoon, but grateful for the time you’ll have away. 

“I’ll be back Monday afternoon, after his parents come home.” You say, tired of the conversation and no longer wanting to be involved. You turn and start heading up the stairs, knocking Gator’s hand from your back as you leave without being dismissed, something you’re sure you’ll hear about next week. “See you then.” 

Gator is quick to follow behind, giving your step father a friendly smile as he clambers up the stairs behind you. “What was that all about?” He asks in a hushed voice as he follows onto the second floor landing. 

You shake your head and walk past your sisters’ room and farther on to yours, locking the door behind you. You don’t notice the way Gator’s eyebrows pinch when he notices you’ve barricaded yourselves in the room by locking it. 

“He’s an asshole.” Is all you say, shrugging off the encounter before heading to your closet to find your suitcase. 

When you come out you see Gator with his hands in his pockets again, looking around your bedroom, the one area of the house that was completely and utterly you. Pink and red accents, white frilly lace..teddy bears and fluffy pillows and blankets..the room was so..you. He had gotten his attention caught to a smattering of photo frames on your big white dresser, all of them held you in them, smiling that big beautiful smile of yours (sometimes it would be reaching your eyes, lighting them up happily, but most times it wasn’t), all of them held different people, your sisters mostly, and whom he assumed was a friend from school, a tall brunette with killer legs in a bikini with her arms around you. There was another guy in the photo too that he tried not to be jealous of, but he had his arm around your waist and was grinning down at the two of you as you guys stood on a dock in front of a boat. He loved how happy you looked there in that moment, like your mind wasn’t laden with such heavy burdens like planning a wedding you were legally bound to, or dealing with a clearly tense situation with your step father. His favorite picture though, was one of you and an older woman, your mama, he assumed. You were laughing in the photo a mess of birthday cake frosting smeared across your cheek and some pink tinsel in your hair. The silver balloons behind you said ‘15’. 

“That’s my mama..” You said, sliding up behind him. He jumps, slightly scared. “That’s the only picture i have left of her..Boyd has all the rest, wont let me see ‘em. I think they’re up in the attic somewhere.” You sniff a little, trying not to cry as you turn away, hands on your hips. “Right, lets get this stuff together.” 

After about an hour or so you’ve stuffed the whole suitcase with more clothes than you really need for an entire weekend, Gator had lightened the mood by teasing you when you tried to hide your panties and bras as you packed them, telling you it’s not like he hadn’t seen any before, and he would be seeing yours for the foreseeable future, and then making you laugh at his genuine confusion at your array of shampoos and body washes in the your shower. 

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those 3 in 1 off the shelf at the grocery store kinda guys..” You laugh, looking at him looking at the four different bottles of soaps in his hands. “Please tell me you use something that costs more than ten dollars on your hair! It’s too pretty not to use cheap crap!” You hadn’t really meant to call his hair pretty out loud, but it really was pretty, you couldn’t deny it.

He doesn’t mention it though and instead looks up at you bewildered. “Are you tellin’ me you spent more than twenty dollars on all this crap combined?” He asks, completely in awe. “Oh my god Pearlie, please tell me you’re not gonna be breakin’ my bank on fuckin’ shampoo- it’s shampoo!” 

The two of you burst out in laughter after a moment and you deemed it best not to tell him how much you spent on hair care quite yet, afraid that he would have an aneurysm if you did. He’s gentlemanly enough to help you carry the suitcase back out to the Jeep. 

He even carries it into his daddy’s house for you, and up the stairs where he shows you his bedroom. He tosses the case unceremoniously onto his bed, where it bounces. You look around for a moment, eyebrows raised as you take in the scenery. It was messier than you had imagined, but it smelled so much like him and his damn vape that you couldn’t help but to take a deep breath of air. The room wasn’t too big, and his queen sized bed took up most of the space, the rest of it littered with his clothes on the floor and posters on the wall..you noticed some trophies on a shelf that you would have to ask about later. 

“It’s not much, and it’s usually not so messy..” He says, you think he might be a little embarrassed by the red flush of his cheeks. “I’m sorry you have to sleep in here with me, but it’s better than the couch or crashing on the floor in the girls’ room..” 

“I don’t mind, Gator..” You say, giving him a little smile as you turn to face him. “It’s a fuckin’ pig stye though.” You laugh and he follows suit, nodding along with you. You had a pretty good idea of what you would be doing to keep yourself busy while Jessica and Maude were at school tomorrow, or until they would come home this afternoon. 

The rest of the early afternoon was spent with Karen giving you a run down of the girls’ schedules and how to feed them and dress them. Something about the woman irritated you to your core, maybe it was the way she clearly held nothing but disdain for her step son, or maybe it as the way that she spoke to you like you were stupid and couldn’t possibly be capable of taking care of her children, either way, it made your eye start to twitch the more you thought about it. 

You were grateful when Roy seemed to have finally had enough of hanging around after he had dutifully packed their bags into his old chevy and got a little snappy with his wife, who quickly scurried out of the door. He gave you a friendly squeezed of your shoulder, his giant hand engulfing your shoulder, before mentioning something to Gator in hushed tones that seemed to only upset the boy as his voice turned tense and cold and his back stiffened like it did earlier in the day. 

The house was quiet once the door shut, creepily quiet once the old Chevy had meandered it’s way out of the gates of the house and down the road of the ranch. You stood in the doorway of the kitchen, not quite sure what to do with yourself as you kept your eyes on your fiance. He’s watching out the windows next to the door, his back muscles still tense. You wondered if he would be upset with you if you asked what his father had said, if you asked if he was okay. You decide against it though. “Gator?” You ask, your voice soft, small and quiet. He hums in response, hands on his hips as he glances back at you. “Shouldn’t we go pick up the girls?” You noticed it was nearing time for school for your own sisters  to be out, and while Gator’s went to a private christian school you figured they probably had the same start and out times as your sisters’ school. “It’s almost three..” 

“Yeah..” He runs a hand down his face, clearing his throat. “Yeah, let’s get going.” 

taglist:

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[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2 to this!

Eddie had never considered himself to be a lucky person. Could anyone really blame him? For one thing, he was eaten alive last year. And that wasn’t even counting the fact that he had been a twenty-year old, drug-dealing highschooler before he was sent to literal hell. All after witnessing multiple horrifying homicides. 

But now that he had Steve Harrington on top of him, shoving his tongue down his throat like his life depended on it, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. 

Part of him still couldn’t believe that it was happening at all. He had been fully prepared to just play the part of the pining best friend and suffer through his unrequited crush. He even convinced himself that it would slowly disappear after he got off the high of seeing Steve all bloody and gorgeous in an alternate reality.

But it didn’t. It just got worse and worse. Eddie’s crush just bloomed into a full-blown love. Because Steve Harrington was nothing like he expected. Eddie had never experienced this much whiplash when getting to know someone before. Steve went from highschool bully, to a monster fighting badass, and landed on an adorable, snarky goofball who Eddie basically wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

It had felt like such a long shot when he asked the question. The question that had been haunting him for months, but Eddie couldn’t help but ask. Not after everything he’d seen. At first he thought it was all in his head, just his overactive imagination trying to convince him he wasn’t alone in his feelings. 

But then he started noticing things. Like how Steve was always available to him, even when he had better options open. It was around the third time he witnessed Steve tell a pretty girl, “Sorry, I have plans tonight,” for him to raise a brow. Because the only plans he ever had was doing stupid shit with him. 

It was when he actually rejected Nancy in favor of getting high and listening to music in Eddie’s room that he got optimistically suspicious. It made him pay more attention, the little voice inside his head was getting louder and louder, that told him, maybe, just maybe, Eddie wasn’t the only one in love here. 

So Eddie let himself get a little bolder, terrified all the while but determined to figure out what was going on here. 

It was small things at first, touches that he would let linger. A hand on Steve’s waist when they puttered around the kitchen together, always giving him a little squeeze before he let go. Brushing his bangs out of his face, his hand curling around his ear before pulling away. Resting his head in Steve’s lap when they were sprawled out on the couch, talking about nothing and everything for hours. 

He didn’t miss the way Steve’s cheeks would redden at every touch, or the sweet little smile put on when he thought Eddie wasn’t looking. It made him feel emboldened, and terribly hopeful. 

So he let himself do more, obvious things that were not normal between two male platonic best friends. He waited until night, because despite what Steve said Eddie was not a brave man. At least then if Steve rejected the hell out of him, he’d never have to see his face. 

In theory it should have been easy. They shared a bed almost every night anyway, Eddie always making easy excuses to explain away why Steve didn’t need to go home. 

It was too late, it was cold outside, the trailer was closer to his work anyway, he could still be high from a hit he took two hours ago, Eddie wasn’t above a single excuse. And Steve never complained, he’d just nod along, agreeing to whatever stupid thing Eddie could think of for the night. 

They slept back to back, trying to hold onto some semblance of normal between them. And Eddie would be lying if he said the thought of breaking it didn’t scare the hell out of him, but that didn’t stop him from draping an arm over Steve’s waist one night. He had pulled him against his chest, heart on the verge of exploding as he waited for Steve’s reaction. 

He hadn’t expected him to turn over in his arms, and Eddie had been almost sure that he was doing it to ask him what the fuck he was doing. But Steve just sighed, all relaxed and happy as he snuggled into his chest, wrapping his own arm around Eddie’s waist.  They woke up tangled together, happy and restful. 

They never talked about it, but every night when Eddie opened up his arms, Steve went right into them. And God did Eddie love it, he loved him. And the idea that there was any chance he could be with him and he wasn’t taking it, was killing him. So he took a shot, and asked the question that had been plaguing him for months. 

And it fucking worked. Here he was, vindicated and rewarded with the most handsome, funny, kind boyfriend to ever live. In all honesty, not that much changed between them, considering how they were basically dating back when they considered themselves “friends”. But now there was the added bonus of being able to kiss the living hell out of him whenever he wanted. And the fact that Steve had apparently been holding out on him, because overnight he became the clingest cuddler Eddie had ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

Whether that be hugs from behind, arms draped around his neck in bed, or Steve clambering up into Eddie’s lap whenever the opprunintuity arose. And it was so fucking cute it made Eddie feel like he could die from happiness. And when he returned the favor, Steve would just melt. A hand on his thigh while they drove, an arm around his waist at friendly get togethers, any small touch was enough to make Steve a blushing, gooey mess. 

The whole thing was amazing and Eddie had never been happier. 

There was just one problem. 

For the life of him, Eddie couldn’t stop making him cry. 

The first time, he understood. It had been a bit of a dick move on his end, to force Steve to admit his feelings because Eddie was too chicken-shit to do it himself. He should have thought about that and he'd apologized more than once for the way he handled the whole thing, even if Steve insisted it was more than fine. He just…never wanted to be the cause of that sad, dejected face ever again. 

But then he did it again, completely accidentally. It had been a lazy Sunday morning, the both of them deciding to sleep in until someone from the outside world forced them out of bed. Eddie woke up first, blinking into the late morning light. Steve was draped across his chest, still sound asleep and only slightly drooling on him.

Eddie ran a hand through his tousled hair, completely lovestruck. The small movement was enough to have Steve shift against him, mumbling about it being too early to wake up. But Eddie was already trailing his hands down his back, more than ready to tickle him awake if need be. And it worked, it always worked, because the next thing he knew Steve was batting his hands away, a tired laugh escaping as he finally opened his eyes. 

He groaned as he blinked into the light, pouting up at Eddie as he rubbed his eyes, “You’re lucky you’re pretty Munson. Or I would have kicked you out of bed by now.”

Eddie grinned, wrapping his arms around him a little tighter, “You’d kick me out of my own bed? That’s cold Stevie.”

“My bed now. A consequence of being with me,” Steve laughed, snuggling closer, “It’s in the contract.”

The snarky comment on his tongue died the second Eddie looked down at him. Steve just looked so…relaxed. Unfairly handsome and happy to be there, tracing patterns along Eddie’s bare chest. He was struck with the realization that he wanted this for the rest of his life. Just Steve, with his bed-head and sleepy smile. Eddie had to look away, staring up at the ceiling as he was suddenly overwhelemed by just how much he loved this guy. 

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, embarrassingly earnest, “I think you’re the love of my life.”

Steve was quiet, but he could feel him nodding along as he traced Eddie’s collarbone. For a second, Eddie thought he just hadn’t heard him, and was doing that thing when he pretended like he did. He was a few seconds away from teasingly calling him out for it when he heard it. A soft sniffle, accompanied by a wet feeling, dripping onto him. 

Eddie glanced down, eyes widening at the sight of Steve wiping his tears away, trying and failing to be quiet about it. 

Eddie sat up, slightly panicked as he dragged Steve up with him, “Steve? Baby, what’s wrong? Was it what I said?”

Steve let out a wet laugh, “Not at all. I-fuck, Eddie I think you’re mine too. I swear this hasn’t happened before.”

Eddie was too worried to show how ecstatic that confession made him feel. He held Steve’s face in his hands, wiping away a few tears with his thumbs, “But you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I swear.” Steve sighed, leaning into the touch, “I’m just being a fucking weirdo.”

“My weirdo.” Eddie corrected before kissing him, the salty taste of his tears be damned. Eddie reasoned that he was probably just overwhelmed, which was normal, considering how Eddie was speedrunning the pace of their relationship. It was a fluke, and that was fine.

But then it happened again. 

It had been a completely normal day, no fights with anyone, no problems at the video store or with any of Eddie’s clients. They were watching a movie on the couch, Eddie’s head resting in Steve’s lap as Fame rolled on in the background. Steve was braiding his hair, absentminded as they commented on the muscial, both agreeing that Robin had really oversold it. 

Though Eddie was a sucker for the New York based movies. He used to dream about running away there when he was a teenager. Working and playing in dingy bars until he was magically discovered and skyrockerted into stardom. But now, at the ripe old age of twenty one, he was much more interested in going wherever Steve would follow. 

He watched the screen, mind wandering as he asked,  “Where would you want to go when we leave Hawkins?”

The hands in his hair paused for a split second before Steve answered, “W-what do you mean?”

“When the kids graduate,” Eddie continued, missing the stutter in Steve’s voice, “We won’t really have any reason to stay here right? It’s probably about time that Wayne got the bachelor pad back anyway.” 

“You…you want to live with me?”

Eddie let out a small laugh, rolling his eyes, “Babe, I don’t know if you’re aware but we kind of already live together.”

He watched the screen, someone whose name he forgot was starting another monolouge, “New York is a bit much, but Indianapolis could probably work. Somewhere with some options, y’know?”

Steve cleared his throat above him, fingers still working in his hair, “Y-yeah. Sounds good.”

Eddie smiled, pleased as he went back to trying to follow the plot. Then he felt something wet hit his cheek. He scrunched his nose up, confused as he shifted to look up at Steve, heart jumping when he realized what was happening. 

“Holy shit, don’t look at me for a minute.” Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands, failing to hide his sniveling, “Seriously, just ignore me.”

Eddie sat up, ignoring Steve’s protests as he pried his hands from his face, “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!” Steve insisted, avoiding Eddie’s eyes, “I swear, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, if moving in together is too much to talk about that’s fine-”

“No!” Steve interrupted, voice loud in the small space between them, “I-I mean, that’s not the problem. Of course I want to live with you.”

“I don’t want to pressure you-”

“You’re not,” Steve insisted, grabbing Eddie's hands. He squeezed them, warm and comforting, “Whatever is wrong with me has nothing to do with you, or us. I swear.”

Eddie nodded, even if the worry didn’t fully leave his head. He couldn’t help it, because it just kept happening. Eddie was averaging on making Steve tear up at least once a month and everytime he would insist he was fine. That it wasn’t Eddie’s fault, he was just being a freak. 

It’s not like Eddie minded. In fact he kind of liked comforting him. And it didn’t help that Steve was fucking adorable when he cried. With his scrunched up nose and pretty wet eyes, Eddie was more than happy to be the one to kiss his tears away.  

He just wished he could figure out why it was happening, because despite what Steve said, he knew that he was the cause. It only happened when they were alone together, usually right after Eddie said or did something particularly mushy. He just wanted to know what he was doing wrong. 

It was starting to keep him up at night, and as embarrassing as it was, Eddie was having anxiety nightmares about Steve leaving him for someone who wasn’t making him weep on a semi-regular basis. 

Eddie blinked into the night, waking up from another one of those stupid dreams. He blindly reached over for Steve, his hand hitting the empty mattress with a thud. Eddie groaned, assuming he was in the bathroom, but knowing there was no way he was getting back to sleep without having him next to him. 

Eddie stood, deciding to get some water while he waited for him to come back. He stepped out of his room into the dark hall, cocking his head at the odd scene in front of him. The phone cord was stretched from the kitchen to the bathroom, peeking out through the half cracked door.  

Eddie stopped infront of it, curious as he made out what Steve was whispering through the phone, "Robin, if I cry in front of him one more time I'm going to have to change my name and flee the country."

Eddie snorted behind his hand, quiet enough to not be heard. He leaned in a little closer, fully aware that he should just turn around and not be an eavesdropping dick, but…if he could just find out why Steve kept crying, maybe he could actually do something to stop it. 

"I'm not telling him. I'm lucky I haven't scared him off yet as it is."

Eddie frowned, confused. That didn’t make sense, there was nothing Steve could do to scare him off, not after everything they had been through. Didn’t he know that? 

Steve sighed into the phone, sad and resigned, "I just…I don’t know how much more I can fall in love with him. When he ends it…it's going to fucking kill me."

Eddie could feel his heart stop in his chest. Where the hell did that come from? Sometimes Eddie spent half of his day just day-dreaming about their future, and here Steve was, thinking that he was going to end the best thing that ever happened to him?

"I know, I know. Maybe you're right. I love you too, I'll see you tomorrow."

Eddie backed away from the door, still feeling vaguely ill at what he’d heard. He slipped into bed, pretending to still be asleep when Steve eventually followed. He was back in bed for maybe five seconds before Eddie was reaching for him, tucking him tightly into his arms, like he could cuddle the doubts out of him. 

Eddie could barely sleep that night, mind-racing on what he could do to make Steve realize that he wasn’t going anywhere. It made sense, in the grand scheme of things. Steve’s parents were total shit heads who had no appreciation for the wonderful son they had. The only other person he’d fallen in love with besides Eddie ended up cheating on him, right after drunkenly declaring the fact that she never loved him back. 

And that wasn’t even mentioning his “best friends” who dropped him the second he decided to stop acting like a dick in highschool. Now that he was thinking about it, Eddie was kicking himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. 

Of course Steve would be worried about that. But Eddie wasn’t like them, he’d never be like them. In his head, the only way this relationship was ending was if Steve dumped him, not the other way around. 

If Eddie was extra clingy that morning, Steve didn’t complain. Even if he was making it a bitch for him to get ready for work. Eddie was still draped all over him by the time he was trying to get out the door, laughing at his antics all the while. 

“Someone’s needy today, huh?” Steve chuckled, prying Eddie’s arms away from his neck, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“That’s not soon enough,” Eddie whined, going as far as to follow him to the car. He kissed him goodbye through the window, not giving a single shit who saw them. Not when it made Steve blush and beam at him. He waved at him as he drove away, a plan already forming in his head as he started his day. 

If Steve had fears, Eddie would just love them right out of him. No reason to make a big deal out of anything, not when Steve was already so embarrassed about the whole thing. He would play it cool, and slowly but surely alleviate all of the anxieties. 

That was the plan, but the plan went straight out the window that same night. Basically the second he laid eyes on him after stepping through the front door. Steve wasn’t even doing anything. Just sitting on the couch, lazily watching TV. But then he noticed him, gave him that bright smile, and the floodgates just opened.

“I love you.” Eddie blurted out, making his way towards him, “Like I really fucking love you.”

Steve cocked his head, confused but still happy to see him. He shuffled over for Eddie to sit next to him, “I love you too?”

Eddie shook his head, “I mean I love everything about you Steve. Everything.” 

Steve stared at him, surprise still painted on his face, but Eddie just kept going, aware on some level, that he probably sounded slightly unhinged, but he didn’t care. He needed Steve to understand, “I love how much you care about everyone. I love how you take care of me, and how you let me take care of you. I love how your hair sticks up in every direction in the morning, and how you get pouty whenever you wake up. I love it when you’re bitchy and you make fun of my music. I love it when you get too excited and scream at the TV over basketball. I love the little blush you get whenever I call you pretty. I love all of it, and I want it for the rest of my life. ”

Steve laughed, quiet and nervous as he looked away, ‘What the hell are you even talking about?”

But Eddie wasn’t having that. He grasped his face, tilting his chin up to force them eye to eye. The tears were already starting to form, but Eddie wasn’t worried. He knew what they meant this time, “I’m talking about how you’re the only person I’ll ever want. I’m talking about how I want a life with you Steve. You and no one else.”

The tears were really falling now, and Steve was looking at him like he ripped his heart out, versus perfusing his undying love, “You…you shouldn’t say shit like that Eddie. You don’t know how things will change later on.”

Eddie shook his head, steadfast, “I’ll never not want you. I’m serious Steve. You’re it for me.”

They stared at eachother, Steve searching his face as Eddie kissed his tear-stained cheeks, “I want to believe you.”

“It’s okay that you don’t yet,” Eddie murmured, “I’ll just spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Steve let out a weak laugh, pulling away from his hands to hide his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck, his self-proclaimed safe space, “You promise?”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, “I swear.”

It didn’t happen overnight, but it did happen. Their days together became months, months became years. Eddie never went a day without reminding him how much he was loved, Steve stopped waiting for the day that Eddie was going to leave, and slowly but surely, the tears stopped with it. 

It was ten years to that day, ten amazing years with the love of his life, when Eddie found him in their kitchen, making coffee and yawning while he absentmindely stared out the window, just as adorable at thirty-one as he was at twenty. 

He wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, kissing at his neck with a pleased hum, “You believe me now?”

Steve sighed, sleepy and happy as he leaned back into him, “Yeah, I think I do.”

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 3 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I bare you this! The letter that Steve's dad leaves is literally something like my best friend's mom gave her. I was so shocked! Like what parent does this and talks this way!

Enjoy <3

Warning: Dom Steddie and Sub Plus size reader and all that implies (I regret nothing!), Smut of course with the angst and the fluff. Carol and Tommy are mean to the reader and embarrass her at Steve's party. Steve briefly talks about his trauma. The dad leaves a note for Steve basically telling him he needs to be better. Dirty talk for sure, chocking, slight degrading if you squint.

Word count: 4705

You nibbled on the fries in front of you as you watched Steve and Eddie talk to each other. How had you never known that they even knew one another? 

After you guys left the school, Eddie offered to drive you but you felt more comfortable taking your own car, following them to a diner right in the middle of downtown Hawkins. You couldn’t help but pause when Steve held the front door open for you, raising an eyebrow as he gestured inside. It was such an odd contrast especially when it came to him, seeing him be so polite. 

“Do you two come here a lot?” You blurted out your question a bit too quickly causing both their heads to turn towards you, giving you an odd look. 

“Like on a date or? I mean, Harrington doesn’t really treat me like the beautiful being I am but…”

“No, I mean…”, you giggled and they smiled. It was the first time since they met you that they genuinely heard you laugh. “Why didn’t I know you guys were friends? Even he said your friends don’t know about him.”

“That is a great question. Stevie? Thoughts?”

“We hang out.”

“Getting high in my trailer after school or on weekends doesn’t count.”

“Oh yeah? And what is this? What are we doing now?”, he chuckles.

“Does it bother you?”, you ask Eddie.

“I’ve never really thought about it if I’m being honest.”

“What are you doing?”, Steve asks with a sharp tone.

“I-I-I’m just trying…to get to know you. Understand.”

“Really? Because it seems like you’re trying to cause problems between me and Munson here.” 

Your eyes meet his annoyed ones filing with your own frustration. “Is that normal for you, Steve Harrington? To think everyone has a motive?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He turns to look at Eddie who smiles as he shrugs. “Well, look who found her voice all of the sudden.”

“Did you ever think maybe I always had a voice but it was constantly stifled by people like you!”

“Define people like me.”

“Stuck up, preppy daddy’s boys who only care about what other people think of him instead of growing a pair and just being himself!”

Eddie watched you both with a small smirk as you and Steve glared at each other. Something flashed through the man’s eyes before he glanced at the metalhead, nodding before rising from the table and heading out the door. 

“Wow, sweetheart. You really got under his skin.”

“I did?”

“Steve Harrington doesn’t just silently leave. He always has to have the last word. I’m betting it was the ‘daddy’s boy’ part.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, baby. You don’t.”

#################

The next day, Steve didn’t say a thing to you or even look your way. In class he sat where he was supposed to and during detention that afternoon, he placed himself behind Eddie on the opposite end of the classroom.

Eddie wasn’t out right ignoring you like his friend but he wasn’t really trying to initiate a conversation with you either. He grinned when you walked by during lunch and gave a loud “Hey, princess!” when you entered the room after school. 

On Friday, nothing changed and it killed you. You had no idea why but it did. Steve was still an asshole, right? Even though you admitted you didn’t hate him, you still didn’t care about him. Right? So why during your final afternoon in detention, are you staring at him as he doodled in his notebook?

I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. Is he going to ignore me forever now? Should I apologize? I miss his lips. Wait…what the fuck am I saying?! This is incredibly frustrating!

“Alright boys and girl, congratulations. You have made it through your week of punishment. Eddie I’m sure I will see you again. Steve and Y/N, please, for the love of God, behave.”

The three of you smile as you get up and exit the classroom. They both walk ahead of you as if they had no idea who you are. 

“Steve?” You call his name as soon as you enter the parking lot. When he doesn’t respond, you run ahead of them, trying to block their path. “Steve, please.”

They both shift around you as they continue to talk to each other. “You’re coming tomorrow night, right?”

“I’ll be there.”, Eddie grins. You watch in awe as they both get in their cars and Steve speeds away. “See you on Monday, sweetheart! Behave now.”, he winks before starting his van and disappearing down the road.

###############

“Why are we here?”, Masie asks as she looks around at all the drunk students. 

“Come on. It will be fun.”

It took some sleuthing but you found out from another girl on the basketball team that Steve Harrington was throwing a huge party on Saturday night. Your blood boiled as you realized he purposely invited Eddie in front of you to make you feel even worse. 

“I’m, um, I’m going to go find the drinks.”

“Please don’t leave me alone for long!”, your friend shouted as you left her side. 

Steve’s home was gorgeous, much nicer than your own. Kids were packed in tight as they danced to the music beating against the walls of the house. Carol’s hair came into your view and you hastily tucked into a nearby room. As you looked around you realized you must be in his father’s study.

There was a desk with papers scattered all over it. The bookshelf against the wall was filled to the brim with law books and encyclopedias. On a nearby table, you noticed a bunch of photographs of Mr. Harrington and his wife. 

Where are the pictures of Steve? Maybe he just doesn’t have any in here…that’s odd. You would think he would want to have pictures of his son close by where he works. 

You circled around to the desk, brushing papers aside as you skimmed them until something caught you attention. 

Steven,

I am very disappointed in your behavior as of late. You’re barely passing your classes. You haven’t gotten any better at basketball or swimming. You refuse to save any money for college (If you can even get into one at this point) and your mother found drugs hidden in one of your drawers. 

You spend a lot of time with that freak or girls you don’t intend on staying with. I am ashamed and so far, son, you are not living up to the Harrington name. 

I’ll give you one more year to shape up. If you can’t it together by graduation I will NOT pay for your schooling. Do you understand me?!

Sign and return to my desk. I will file it with my other investments when I get home. 

Sincerely,

Bill Harrington                                          

 X Steven Harrington

“It’s not polite to snoop, Y/N.”

You jump at the sound of his voice as you turn to find Steve leaning against the closed door with a drink in his hand. He smelled incredibly strong like liquor making your heart break. 

“Your father gave you this?”

He pushes off the wall, coming to stand beside you as he cranes his neck to look at the paper in your hands. 

“Yup. This is one of the tamer ones.”

“Steve, he talks about you like…your property.” He shrugs as he takes a seat in the office chair. “I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just a preppy, daddy’s boy who needs to grow a pair, right?”

Your head hangs as you place the letter back down on the desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No. You didn’t.”

As you start to head for the door, something stops you. You spin around and his arms open in surprise when you place yourself on his lap, leaning your head on his shoulder. His chest heaves underneath you before his limbs come back down to wrap around you as his head leans against yours. 

The loud sound of glass breaking startles you both. “Fucking hell. I can’t have one God damn moment; I swear.” You slide off his lap and he angrily opens the door to find out what happened. 

You leave the room to find Masie who was sitting outside on one of Steve’s patio chairs talking to someone you two had class with. You joined her physically but mentally you were somewhere else. Sifting through the last few years, you wondered if there had been any clues to Steve’s relationship with his father. All you remembered was an asshole, Tom Cruise style wanna-be.

He never once let on there might be trouble at home. Hell, he was having a party in the house right now like he didn’t care what his dad thought. 

The feeling of something cold dowsing your body, jolted you back to reality. You stood up, watching as liquid spilled down your head, into your clothes, and on to the concrete below your feet. Your eyes met Tommy’s who was now holding an empty pitcher in his hand. 

“Shit! Y/N, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Not that you’re hard to miss. Maybe it’s because you weren’t invited.”, he snickered. 

Masie stood up, placing herself in front of you. “Have you lost your fucking mind? That was extremely uncalled for!”

You panicked as your eyes looked around the pool area to see people staring at the display that was unfolding. As your body began shutting down, you felt leather being placed around your shoulders. 

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re ok.”

“Speaking of uninvited…”, Carol giggled. 

As Eddie started to turn you around, you both ran into the host of the party. Steve’s eyes scanned your fragile frame and the snarky smiles on his friend’s faces. 

“Everybody out! Out now! You heard me! Parties over!” Carol and Tommy looked around confused but didn’t move as he gently reached for your friend’s arm, tugging her towards you. “You guys, go inside. There are some towels in the washroom by the kitchen. Why are you two still here?! I said out!”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“No, I’m not. This is MY house. Now get… out…”, Steve growls. 

Tommy wraps his arm around Carol’s shoulder as they leave his backyard. After a quick run through to make sure everyone had left, he found the three of you in his kitchen as Eddie ran a towel through your hair.

“Do you have some clothes, man? Something she can put on.”

“I-I-I can’t go home like this. M-m-my dad will kill me if I come home smelling like alcohol.”, you cried. 

“He will. Her parents are strict as hell especially her mom.” Masie rubs your back comfortingly. “She told them she was having dinner with me tonight so she could come here…for some reason.” She squints her eyes at Eddie. 

If only she knew that he wasn’t the only reason. 

“Why don’t you tell them she’s spending the night with you?”

“IS she?” Your friend glares at them both. “Because I’m not leaving her here alone with you Steve Harrington.”

“Maze, it’s ok.”

“Um, Y/N, it’s not ok! Did you see what his friends just did to you?!”

“YES, I DID! I did… I’m fine, ok? Eddie, will take me home tomorrow.”

Her eyes shift between everyone before focusing on the metalhead. “I will be calling her house at noon tomorrow. If she doesn’t answer, I’m calling Chief Hopper. Do I make myself clear?”

“A bit dramatic but yes.” As soon as she leaves, Steve gestures to Eddie, who takes your hand as you both follow him up the stairs. “I like her. She has a lot of spunk.”

“Masie Collin’s has always been that way.”, the other boy sighs as he opens his bathroom door. 

“Ah. I’ve never met her before.” He focuses on your body as he removes your beer-soaked clothes, passing them to Steve who stumbles backwards into the wall. “Apparently, I got here too late. Do you need to go lay down, Harrington?” 

The man nods slightly as he pushes past you both but instead of turning towards his bedroom, you hear him stomp down the stairs. Eddie turns on the shower, waiting patiently for it to warm up. 

“Okay, Sweetheart. Go ahead and take as long as you need. I’ll go riffle through his drawers and see what I can find for you to wear.”

As he turns to leave, you reach out and grab his arm. “Will…will you stay with me?”

“Do you want me to stay in here with you or do you want me to join you?”

“Will you stand in the shower with me, please?”

Eddie steps forward, brushing your hair behind your ears with his fingers. “I said do you WANT… Talk to me like you want it.”

“Eddie, I want you take a shower with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

He softly smiles as he takes a step back and removes his shirt before sliding down his pants with his boxers. You take his hand as he guides you into the tub and you sigh at the feeling of the hot water hitting your body. 

Eddie chuckles as he reaches for the shampoo in the corner. “Well, you won’t smell like alcohol but let’s hope your parents don’t know what Steve smells like.”

He grins as you laugh, putting product in his hands, and rubbing it into your scalp. Eddie continued to help clean your body, exhaling pleasure filled breaths anytime his lips would randomly land on your skin. 

A tiny squeak left you when his fingers grazed between your legs. “Oh. Sensitive.”, he quips with a mischievous smile. 

“I’m still a little sore.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in joking surprise. “Geez, are our cocks that big?” You bite down on your bottom lip as he slowly inserts his middle finger into your entrance. “Or are you just that tight?”

He gets to his feet, placing his other hand on your lower back, sliding you closer to him. “God, I’ve never felt a pussy this tight before.” You moan as he guides his lips to your own. “Normally, I don’t ask but I know you’ve been through a lot tonight. Can I fuck you?”

“I…I don’t want you to ask. That’s what the word is for right?”

“Yeah, baby. That’s right.”

“Then take me, Eddie. Please…I need you to.”

“Fuck me.”, he groans as his lips crash to yours. 

He removes his fingers, gripping your waist to adjust your body so your back was facing him. You felt his palm dig into your shoulder as his other hand brought your hips into his own, guiding his length into your cunt. 

Eddie wrapped his arms around your tummy as he delivered several hard thrusts that pushed you forward into the cold tile. Your hands shot out to hold yourself steady as he pressed his chest flush to you back.

“Yeah? Fuck, princess, you feel so good. You like the way my cock feels?” You whimpered as your head fell against his shoulder. “Answer me, pretty girl. Tell me how much you love my dick inside of you, stretching you open.”

“I do—mmm—Eddie. Oh my god. I love the way you feel. Please—mmm—please make me cum.”

Eddie pumped his hips faster as the sound of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom. The coil that had quickly began to wind snapped as you moaned his name repeatedly. 

“Good girl. So fucking sexy when you cum. I like the way your body trembles. Fuck. Get-Get down on your knees, baby.”

He pulls out of you and you do as your told, his palm falling to the back of your head as your wrap your lips around his cock. “F-fuck. Don’t fucking move.” Curling his fingers tightly in your hair, he thrusts his hips roughly, forcing himself down your throat. As he begins to sputter, he holds you still and you feel his warm spend fill your mouth. 

“Good girl. Swallow my cum.”

After you do what he asks, he grabs your forearm helping you to your feet as he smiles. “Do you feel clean or do you want me to do another once over?”

“No, I’m ok. I’m really exhausted.”

“I can imagine.”, he chuckles as he turns off the water and steps out of the tub onto the mat. “Here. Go ahead and dry off. I’m going to go find you some clothes.”

When he doesn’t come back after you’re dry, you go looking for him, finding him in Steve’s room; the boy himself completely passed out. 

“Hey, sorry. He actually threw your clothes in the washer so I moved them to the dryer. I’m trying to find something here but kid is too fucking thin. Some of these shirts would barely fit me as a fucking crop top.”

While Eddie spoke, you had tiptoed over to Steve’s bed. Even though he was asleep, he still had a pained expression on his face. You reached out to delicately move some hair to the side and he lightly sighed as he adjusted his head to face the other way. 

The metalhead watched you with fascination as you took off the towel that wrapped around you, tossing it to the floor, and climbed into the bed beside his friend. Your hand traced his back over his shirt and again he sighed but the disgruntled look on his face softened. 

You smiled when you felt Eddie climb in behind you. For some reason, just laying between them like this made you feel comfortable; safe. His arm slide under your pillow and after a while you heard his steady breathing as he fell asleep. 

#############

The feeling of thumb caressing your lips, made your eyes flutter open and were met with the beautiful, amber ones across from you.

“Hey. Are you okay?”, you whisper. Steve nods as he lazily rolls fully onto his side facing you. “By the time I got here you were pretty wasted. Do you remember anything?”

“I remember you being nosey and Carol being a bitch. I remember kicking everyone out and you being sad. Before I fell asleep, I think I heard moaning in my shower but…” He grinned as you blushed. “You smell like me.”

“That’s good. At least I don’t smell like beer anymore.”

“It’s not fair though. You smell like me but not BECAUSE of me.” Steve’s soft palm glided down your back, over your ass to the back of your thigh, lifting it to place your leg over his waist. His hard cock pressed against the outside of your puffy lips making you moan. “I did like waking up to you naked beside me. It took all of my energy not to just take what I wanted while you slept.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He slowly grinded his waist, dragging his length between your folds causing you both to let out a needy whine. 

“Because I like hearing you whimper when I first slide my cock into your tight pussy. Like you can’t take me but you know you need me. Do you need me, honey?”

Your hands reach out to cling to the back of his neck as you place your forehead on his. “Yes, Steve. Please…fuck. I need you so bad.”

“Where, baby? Tell me where you need me.”

“I-I-I…” You stumble over your words, already feeling so overwhelmed by him.

A low, growl rumbles from his chest as his palm comes up to wrap around your throat. “You take too long to answer simple questions.”

“I’m sorry. I just—”

“I don’t care. Tell me…what you need.”

You swear you hear Eddie’s breathing pick up behind you but as you try to turn your head to look Steve grips your jaw forcing your eyes to remain on his. 

“Jesus! And so easily distracted. Did she give you this much trouble last night?”

“No. She told me she needed me and swallowed my cum like a good girl.”, Eddie responds through heavy pants. 

Aggressively, you press your lips to his, relishing in the taste that you missed for almost three days. These men were almost like a drug to you and when Steve pulled away you saw it in his eyes to. 

“Please, Steve. I missed you and how you feel inside me. I need you to make me cum.”

The man gripped your hips as he rolled you onto your back, lifting your other leg to wrap around him. As his mouth traveled down your neck, you were finally able to look at Eddie who was stroking his dick under the blanket as he watched you both. 

Your hand reached out to tug down the sheet making him chuckle. “Do you want to see me play with myself, pretty girl?”

When you nod, Eddie tosses the blanket down to the end of the bed not only exposing himself but Steve between your legs. Your hand reaches out to help him but he promptly stops you, placing your palm against his friend’s back.

“Naw, sweetheart. I had you. It’s his turn.”

With that, the boy slid his cock into your entrance, both men watching your face as it scrunched in pleasure. Steve thrust into you roughly, hitting that spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back. 

You licked your lips as you watched the metalhead, his moans making your pussy clench. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, no.”, Steve whined as his head fell into the nook between your neck and shoulder. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as his rhythm faltered and you felt his seed warm your insides.

“It’s…it’s ok. It’s alright, Steve.”, you cooed as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Alcohol isn’t always a man’s best friend.”, Eddie breathily laughs as his own rhythm slows. 

Steve’s head shot up, quickly pulling himself out of you before climbing down your body and placing your legs over his shoulders. You cried out as his mouth wrapped around your clit and he rapidly pushed two fingers into your dripping hole. 

“Oh-oh my god.” You palm floated down, holding tightly to the back of his head. 

Eddie’s shoulder brushed your own as he scooted closer to you, his lips warming your ear. “You did say you needed to cum and if I know Harrington he would never leave a girl he likes unsatisfied.”

Your other hand tried to reach for his cock again but he hastily slapped the back of it before reaching over to slap one of your breasts. “I said no. You’re his right now. Who do you belong to right now?”

“S-Steve.”

Eddie smacked your tit again eliciting a soft moan. “Louder so I know you understand.”

“I belong to Steve! Fuck…” In response to your cries, Steve’s tongue flicked faster against you as his head shook from side to side. “Yes…just like that. I’m gonna…”

You felt the metalheads arm beside you move at a quicker pace as his breathing became more labored. Back arching, your hips grinded against the man’s fingers and tongue as you came. 

Gradually bringing your quivering legs back down to the bed, Steve placed delicate kisses on your nub making you twitch.

Eddie’s body curled inward as he came, his release shooting out and hitting his thigh. 

Usually, they were both quick to clean and take care of you, but you were surprised when Steve laid his head on your lower belly, wrapping his arm around you after bringing your bent knee to lean against his back. Eddie’s head leaned on your shoulder as his hand reached down to intertwine his fingers with your own. You weren’t sure how to react so you just did what felt right choosing to continue to play with Steve’s hair as you pressed your cheek on top of Eddie’s head. 

You don’t know how long you three laid like that but the sound of a phone ringing pushed you out of the pleasurable moment. Steve groaned as he rolled over to answer it. 

“Hello? Harrington house…yeah. Hey, dad.”

“This may take a while. Come on, princess.” Eddie yanked on your hand, guiding you back to the bathroom where he reached for a rag and cleaned you both. “Ok, stay here. I’m going to go grab your clothes.”

He reappeared quickly, beaming as he handed you your outfit. “Now you’ll smell like Harrington and rich people detergent.” You giggled as you thanked him and he disappeared again to throw on his own ensemble. 

As you descended his stairs, your breath caught at how much trash there was everywhere from his party last night. You wondered into his kitchen, finding the trash bags, and began grabbing cups and plates along the way. 

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s voice startled you, your eyes darting towards where he was watching you. “Oh, you scared me. I’m helping you clean. I don’t want your parents to get mad at you.”

“They won’t be home till Wednesday.” His eyes scanned you over, always trying to get a read on you. 

“They leave you by yourself that long?” That genuinely made you sad for him. His folks seemed to be the exact opposite of yours. Where yours at times could be pretty strict and micromanaging, his didn’t seem to care at all. Or didn’t care about their son the way they should judging by the letter you found. 

“Aw. I love it. A girl with a heart.” Eddie grins as he noisily comes down to where you both are. “Unfortunately, babe, I was threatened to have you home by noon. It is currently… a little after eleven and I don’t know how far you live.”

“I’m maybe about 8 miles that way.”, you gesture somewhere behind you. “I, um, I do need you to drop me off a few houses down. I’m sorry. It’s just if they see me hop out of a van…well any car that isn’t Masie’s they will have questions.”

The metalhead nods as he reaches for his jacket and digs for his keys. “Do you mind looping back around, Munson, to drop me back off here?”

“Not a problem, man.”

“Oh Steve, you don’t have to come.”

“Do you not want me to?”, his asks with a forceful tone. 

“Of course, I do… I don’t want to be burden.”

“Interesting.” Eddie muses as Steve grabs his jacket and you three head out the door. “Harrington thinks everyone has a motive. You think you’re a burden. Once we figure out my damage is we’ll win ‘fucked up people’ bingo.”

#################

“Yeah, I’m just right there. Thank you for taking me home.”

“My pleasure.”, Eddie grins. 

“Are you going to be okay?” You both turn to look at Steve who was now leaning forward between the two front seats. “I said I remembered Carol being bitch but Tommy was the one who poured that pitcher all over you, right?”

You nodded before down casting your gaze towards the floor. “It’s not the first time. Freshman year he spilled milk on my dress in the lunch line. In middle school, we all had that field trip to the theater and he pretended to trip, pouring soda down my back. You know, looking back on it, I’m starting to think Tommy Hagan doesn’t know how to drink a beverage.”

They both laugh, making you smile. You’d never seen Steve honestly grin with his teeth before. You reach out with your palm and bring his lips to yours before doing the same with Eddie. 

“I’ll be ok. I’m always okay.” As soon as you jump out of the van, Steve climbs into your seat. You start to head for your house but a thought suddenly hits you. “Oh! Um, I almost forgot. Do either of you have a pen?”

They look around before the metalhead make a tiny aha sound, reaching over to hand you a marker. You giggle as you take it from him, grabbing the boy’s hand and writing something on it. “That’s my line. My parents have their own…for business.” You roll your eyes as you wave and they watch you jog towards your house. 

Eddie smiles as he shows Steve his palm with your phone number scrolled across. 

#############

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @local-stoner-bitch

@katethetank @danandphilequalsmemes @luna-munson83

@sidthedollface2 @mandyjo8719

[gerrystamour]

run it back (give me five whole minutes)

Rated T | Steddie Week Day 5: Together | 1700 Words | Complete

[ READ ON AO3 ]

“Maybe I can come help you?” “No, Eds, you need to sleep tonight. You and Wayne have a lot of driving to do tomorrow, don’t you?” “Yeah, just… we’re not gonna see each other for a week, and we haven’t really seen each other for a couple of days already…” “I know. I’m sorry…” If you're seeing me reposting it, no you aren't. ANYWAY this is my entry for @steddie-week Day 5: Established Relationship & Together CW: Some negative self-talk because I decided to inflict some of my RSD on Steeb.

By the time Steve left work, his entire head was full of static. There was a pounding, pulling feeling just behind his left eye and it felt like his eardrums were ready to rupture with how loud his ears rang. So much had been going on all day, and then some moron knocked over an entire shelf literally five minutes before the store closed.

Steve had been tempted to tidy it up as best as he could and leave a note, but he knew Keith would fire him if he did that. Normally, he wouldn’t really care because cleaning up the mess would normally help settle his mood before he went home to bed.

But he had plans. He had plans and now he had to cancel them to clean up a mess so he didn’t get fired.

The phone call had sucked to make, telling Eddie that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to his place after work.

“Maybe I can come help you?”

“No, Eds, you need to sleep tonight. You and Wayne have a lot of driving to do tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Yeah, just… we’re not gonna see each other for a week, and we haven’t really seen each other for a couple of days already…”

“I know. I’m sorry…”

Eddie had reassured Steve that it was okay, that he understood, that he wasn’t mad. But Steve couldn’t shake the repeating, screaming thoughts that he fucked up big time. That it was a mistake to prioritize his shitty minimum wage job over seeing his boyfriend before he left to visit the few extended family members he and Wayne still spoke to for a week.

Steve was just destined to be a shit boyfriend, apparently.

That thought had to be shut down quickly because he didn’t want to do something embarrassing like cry while he was still within the four walls of Family Video.

So he focused on righting the shelf and reorganizing the videos correctly. A few cases got damaged, so he set those aside with a note for Keith. By the time he finished, it was one in the morning.

There was a chance Eddie was still awake because if Steve knew his boyfriend, he knew the man didn’t have a healthy sleep schedule. But what good would calling him do? Steve already chose work over him, so calling now would just rub that in.

Steve locked up the store and drove home, tears welling up in his eyes and blurring his vision. He fucked up bad and he was going to have to figure out how to fix it fast. Steve kept replaying the distracted way Eddie said he loved him on the phone when they hung-up earlier, which made him think of all the times Nancy said she loved him.

Maybe if he woke up super early the next morning, he could get to Eddie’s trailer before he left, and he could apologize in person and see him? Waking up early after a shift like the one he had and working past one in the morning was a recipe for a migraine, or at least a tension headache from hell, but it would be worth it to make this up to Eddie.

Steve couldn’t lose Eddie over his stupid bullshit.

By the time Steve pulled into the driveway of his house, he was struggling to hold back the tears. He wasn’t normally a crier, just when he was exhausted, in pain, and a bit heartsick all at once. Steve couldn’t stand that about himself, especially in moments like this where it wasn’t even okay for him to be that upset. He fucked up, why was he upset?

Entering his dark, quiet house, Steve quickly locked the front door and tossed his keys at the bowl on the table near the front door before trudging loudly up the stairs without taking off his shoes. He barely cared that his keys missed the bowl entirely and clattered loudly to the floor.

Steve didn’t even notice there was already a set of keys sitting in the bowl.

He didn’t stop until he was in his bathroom, staring at his tear-streaked and miserable face. “Stupid,” he muttered to himself as he started taking off his clothes for a shower. “Worst fucking boyfriend, why does anyone even fucking bother with you?”

“Hey!”

Steve jumped, too startled even to shout, and he turned on the intruder with fists ready. He wasn’t prepared to see his boyfriend, sleep-soft and frowning at him.

“Eds?” he asked, confusion blurring with his self-loathing. Why was Eddie here? Shit, he must’ve felt so bad for Steve he came over. Once again, someone else was doing all the fucking emotional work in the relationship, and Eddie had to be up early—

“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that,” Eddie said firmly, stepping into the bathroom to hold Steve’s face.

“What?” he asked, dazed now that Eddie was standing in his space and touching him.

“You were saying mean shit about my amazing boyfriend, Steve,” Eddie said, and Steve’s expression crumpled.

“Don’t—you don’t have to say that. You’re just being nice—” Steve started, but he was interrupted by Eddie scoffing.

“Sweetheart, when am I ever ‘just being nice’ to anyone?” Eddie asked and Steve couldn’t really argue that. Eddie wasn’t mean, and he wasn’t always forthcoming with talking about his feelings on matters, but he was never nice for the sake of being nice. If he was telling someone something with his words, then that meant something.

“But I didn’t leave work,” Steve said weakly, trying to find the justifications for why he was a terrible boyfriend. “You’re leaving tomorrow and I didn’t leave work to see you.”

“Stevie, that’s your job. You—did I even ask you to leave work?” Eddie asked, bewildered.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me!” Steve said with no small amount of frustration. What wasn’t Eddie understanding about this? Steve wasn’t being attentive, he wasn’t thinking three steps ahead, he wasn’t reading between the lines of Eddie’s questions and requests well enough.

“So if I asked you to leave that huge mess and lose your job, you would’ve?” Eddie asked skeptically, but something must have shown on Steve’s face because Eddie’s expression faltered. “Babe, staying behind at work was fine. I’m not so needy that you should drop everything and come running to comfort me.”

“But you were upset,” Steve insisted, taking a step back out of Eddie’s hands. “You were upset and I didn’t—”

“I was upset because you sounded so miserable on the phone! I wasn’t—fuck, Steve, I’m sorry I made you feel like I was upset with you,” Eddie said, stepping forward to cup Steve’s face again. Then he added, “Yeah, I wanted to see you before I went on the worst fucking trip ever, and yeah I was sad I wouldn’t, but I was mostly sad that you were having such a shitty day.”

“I didn’t even tell you about my day, though,” Steve said, a bit dazed.

“Didn’t have to, sweetheart,” Eddie replied with a sweet smile. “You did your Headache Brewing Sigh after every sentence,” he elaborated after a moment and Steve’s heart ached at being known so deeply.

“You should be sleeping, Eds,” Steve said weakly, stepping forward into Eddie’s embrace.

“I’m not going anymore. I didn’t wanna go in the first place, so I told Wayne I’m staying home,” Eddie replied, and his arms tightened around him when Steve tried to pull away. “Don’t, you beautiful little martyr. I didn’t want to go so I’m not going. There’s nothing more to it, don’t make it about you.”

Steve felt all the fight leave his body, resting his weight more heavily against Eddie with a shaky sigh, his head dropping to Eddie’s shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed, baby,” Eddie cooed, petting his hair, but Steve shook his head.

“I just need to shower first,” he said, and he could feel Eddie nodding.

“Alright, let’s do that, then bed,” Eddie said brightly, stepping back carefully to start taking off his pajamas. When Steve opened his mouth to argue, Eddie held a finger to his lips with a playfully stern expression. “I’m taking care of you tonight, Stevie. It’ll be over quicker if you just let me.”

At that, Steve huffed a tired laugh and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled lightly and finished undressing.

The shower took them a long time, Eddie refusing to let Steve do any of the work to wash himself off. Eddie just grabbed each bottle Steve reached for and did everything for him. At one point, Steve let out a sigh that carried a small vocalization at the end, his body finally relaxing under the hot spray of the shower and his boyfriend’s cool hands.

Eddie took that moment to drop a soft, almost distracted kiss to the back of Steve’s shoulder and the tenderness of that tiny gesture broke through something in him. With a shaky inhale, Steve turned around and wrapped his arms around Eddie, burying his face into the junction of his boyfriend’s shoulder and neck with a sigh. There were tears in Steve’s eyes again, but this time they weren’t sad.

When Eddie immediately wrapped his own arms around him, Steve kissed the skin his mouth was closest to before tipping his head back to meet Eddie’s eyes.

“I love you,” Steve confessed so quietly that the shower almost drowned him out.

Eddie heard it though, or read his lips, and his big brown eyes widened a bit. Then a grin split his face and he dropped a kiss onto Steve’s mouth. “I love you, too,” Eddie said without pulling away and Steve pressed closer to deepen the kiss again.

Standing under the steady spray of the shower, they kissed each other slow and sweet, searching even if they knew their ways around each other’s mouths. It was different now that they’d said the word they had both been thinking since the day they first kissed.

Finally, the temperature of the water began to waver and they pulled away from the kiss.

“Holy shit, so there is an end to the Harrington water heater,” Eddie marveled as they quickly finished up and turned the water off.

Once they were tucked into bed, Steve reached across the space between them to pull Eddie into his arms tightly. Eddie laughed as he settled, wrapping himself around Steve and sighing happily.

“I love you,” Steve said again, yawning.

Eddie turned his head where it rested and kissed Steve’s chest. “Love you, too, Stevie.”

[AO3 LINK]

[ NEXT FIC ]

I hope you enjoy and please consider reblogging! Taglist! @steddie-there, @patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @indigohightide, @steddieas-shegoes, @steve-harringtits, @mylilplanet, @afewproblems, @xenon-demon, @inairbinad, @matchingbatbites

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group D Round 1: #D2 vs #D7

#D2: Prophecy girlie, hyper cellphone, and gamer cat get silly

Su Moting, the daughter of a god and a monster, is the supposed Chosen One set to fix the balance of the universe, but unfortunately, she’s just barely living as it is. Only just told of her great fate, Su Moting couldn’t care less as she juggles her social life, work, and her new duties (which she doesn’t take seriously). Alongside Moting are Star Tianji and Star Dikui, a god and a monster out to help our protagonist with her grand mission. They, too, are also struggling to figure out life on Earth, as Tianji is an immortal who doubles as the god of Su Moting’s personal cellphone and Dikui is a cat monster immortal more concerned with lazing about. Somehow, they make things work as the best worst roommates of all time.

#D7: Girl who can play the biwa and see the future. 1180 CE Japan

The main character can play the biwa and also see the future with one of her eyes. After her father is killed at the start by the Taira clan, she is taken in by Shigemori of the Taira clan, who has the ability to see the ghosts of the dead. He wishes for her to help prevent the downfall of the Taira clan, which she has witnessed, but she refuses to since they are the ones that killed her father. Instead, she chronicles the events of their rise and fall, playing the biwa.

Titles, propagandas, trailers, and poll under the cut!

#D2: God Troubles Me (Hanhua Riji)

[Admin: Submitter had linked the ending song, but it doesn’t really show us what the animation is like, so I went to find an actual trailer. Above is a teaser for season 3, but there are no spoilers.]

Alt Title: Man’s Diary

Propaganda:

Four-season donghua (Chinese anime) that’s so recent and seeped in American pop-culture that I needed to do a double take when a literal cockroach said “Run, Forrest, run,” in English with a heavy Chinese accent. There’s a cat who plays video games (he’s very good at it), a phone who’s the worst kind of hype man, a sentient air conditioner, a guy who can shapeshift into any vehicle, off-brand Super-Man but jerky, a high-ranking god that collects anime figures, and the mega ultra cool protagonist who is a normal human girl fresh out of college and always low on money. It’s great

Trigger Warnings: Animal Cruelty or Death, Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Flashing Lights, Racism, Self-Harm, Suicide.

All the TW’s above are done for comedic effect, but they come in fast and hard with the humor. Better safe than sorry! The biggest things I remember are one or two “blink and you’ll miss it” racist jokes, characters joking about killing themselves out of embarrassment (no one goes through with it), and there’s a LOT of self-harm via stupid decisions. Stupid things like tying a loose tooth to the back end of a sports car sort of stupid. The protagonists have 3 brain cells collectively.

#D7: The Heike Story (Heike Monogatari)

Propaganda:

It’s based on historical events, so one can already know the ending before watching it, sort of like the main character Biwa. But seeing those events, getting attached to the characters as they have both fun, simple moments and difficult, painful moments and seeing the humanity in the characters and watching them grow up with the underlying promise that things won’t go well for them, and accepting that… themes of impermanence and grief… but also the art style is unique and bright and the music is great and fits the scenes, and I highly recommend watching this if you haven’t already !! It’s only 11 episodes!

Trigger Warnings: Suicide

If you’re reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

[ash5monster01]

Ashley my love. I recently reread your masterlist, YOU ARE FANTASTIC. Just needed to shout that out =) I've got an idea for a story. Don't know if you like it but I give it a try, especially after discovering that Miles Teller is on your character List????? Omg yeah. Here it comes:

Miles and reader are best friends since for ever and always more than happy to film together. Her excitement is marred by a new regisseur who gives her instantly a bad feeling (guy is flirting with her, gives her creepy looks and stares whenever he gets the chance). The whole situation is getting worse when gets touchy and handsy and when he corners her when she's alone. The creep harasses her and even threatenes her that when she's not dating him or be more friendly to him he will end her career. Miles notices that there's a change in the behavior of his normally bubbly sunshine best friend. Got more details in my mind, but that doesn't mean that you have to use them in any way!!!!!! I imagine that Miles and her always sharing an apartment when they're together, so he notices her sleeping not well, hearing her having nightmares. But she always brushes him off. One day he finds her having a panic attack behind her trailer (the creep just touched her rough and claim her dating him)....yeah well I need some good angst, drama, some hurt and an protective Miles, a fluffy end mayhabs?!

Love ya girl, it would ne fantastic if you let me know if you like my idea

Not Yourself

Pairing: Miles Teller x FemReader

Warnings: 18+ due to heavier themes, mentions of SA, abuse, depression, language, control issues, gaslighting, fluff

Summary: Being best friends for a long time can be like wearing rose colored glasses, ignoring the fact that feelings can change, touches can become more, and love can evolve into an entirely different thing. Some people ignore these signs for their entire lives but when Miles notices you’re not the same bubbly girl anymore he discovers a sad truth and in the midst of it all he can’t deny how he feels about you any longer.

a/n: I've had this request for ages and I am so sorry, I am busy literally all of the time and try to keep up with my own series and requests all the time. plz enjoy now that it is finally here xx

word count: 3,038

Masterlist

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks since you stopped smiling as much, since you stopped looking him in the eye, since you stopped laughing at his jokes, since you stopped spending time with him, since you had a full night of sleep. He had heard you, crying, having nightmares, your sobs barely muffled by the door. He wished he could figure out when it all changed. Everything was fine. You both landed another project together, found a perfect apartment to use while filming, you had been so happy. It was the two of you against the world like always. Yet now it’s as if the sun didn’t shine and because of your broken smile the world couldn’t really thrive.

Being an actor in this industry was hard, you had heard the horror stories, yet you still took it on knowing you had your bestfriend by your side. From highschool plays until now you were continuing to face the craziness of this job head on. Luckily enough with him by your side, landing new projects together left and right. You figure you had gotten too comfortable, too blind with happiness to see the warning signs, too scared to say no when one of the producers had asked you on a date. You figured one date couldn't hurt, that you could just go and keep your job, make up an excuse to get out of a second date, but it was too late. You had let him in and now he held the power. He held more weight in the bustling world of show business and now his threats of debunking your career were enough to scare you silly.

It was supposed to be the fun part of the date, the walking you to the doorstep, pink cheeks hidden by the dark of the night and revealed in the glow of street lamps, a shy kiss shared under the porchlight. Instead it was a tight grip around your wrist, back pressed into the hard brick of the home, wide eyes, as he threatens to end your career if you don't date him. Then you finally realize all that flirting and staring he had done on set was more creepy and forceful than anything. Blood pulsing through your veins you agreed, a harsh and unwanted kiss forced upon your lips. You waited till he got in his car and left before breaking down in tears on the front steps. You had promised yourself you wouldn't be one of those Hollywood horror stories and yet here you were, blindsided, and completely alone. You couldn’t even tell Miles, the keeper to every secret and embarassing story in your life. Once you realized this you waited until the living room lights turned off before entering the home and hiding in your room so he couldn't see the heartbroken look on your face.

Now it had been three weeks of this torture. Unwarranted touching and kissing all over set and it was as if nobody noticed or they ignored it for their own benefit. That broke you more than anything. The only person to inquire about your change in demeanor your best friend Miles, but you denied him every time. Assuring him everything was okay even though it definitely wasn't. Your only safe place was your room at night, but the abuse had followed you into your dreams, nightmares startling you awake until you were too scared to fall sleep, tears taking place of sleep. So you learned to live with the pain, but the thing about holding everything in means it dulls the parts of you that shine brighter. It’s harder to smile when something so heavy sits on the weight of your shoulders. You just prayed nobody would really notice.

Opening your trailer door you were prepared to make it to set, thankful you were a good enough actor that your emotions hadn't tainted your performance. Least expected as always, the strong grip curled around your wrist, and practically tugged you off the trailer steps before pulling you around and out of sight of anyone passing by. Your heart instantly quickened and suddenly you were slammed against the cool metal of the trailer before his large hand wrapped around your ass. You let out a shaky breath due to the close proximity and he snarled in your face. Barring his teeth like a wild animal and you were instantly fear stricken, frozen in place, and prepared for more trauma to add to your plate. Another nightmare brewing just at the edge of your fingertips, not even your work place safe from the abuse.

"You look good today, just for me?" his hand squeezed tighter, heavy breaths landed on your face. Your stomach churned with disgust over his weird attraction towards you. "Bet you sat in that makeup chair, begging them to make you look good so I could have something to see"

His other hand finally let go of your wrist, wrapping around your neck, the coolness of his rings practically stinging you by the touch. You shuddered as his face closed in, warm mouth landing on your neck as he left wet kisses, devouring you like a meal in the worst way. You prayed it would be enough, that he would leave, but then his hand was gripping your chin, mouth landing againt your own, and tongue shoving inside your mouth despite how hard you tried to keep your lips closed. Tears burned at the back of your eyes but you knew not to let them fall, to not give him the satisfaction. After what felt like hours he finally let go, backing off with a sly smile on his face. Hiding your shuddering body he pointed in your direction.

"Keep that pretty little mouth shut" he sneered and then he was gone, leaving you behind the trailer in a broken heap, heart racing, and life ruined. Once you could no longer hear his footsteps you were on your knees, tears free falling as sobs raked your body. You couldn’t control it as the panic rushed through, anxiety closing your airways, as you tried to wrap your mind around what had just happened. Unexpected and harmful all the same. You were late for your scene, but as the panic attack set in you had no part of you that could care.

As for Miles he knew you'd never be late to a scene, you didn't want to be one of those dramatic Hollywood stars that let the fame get to your head. So when it had been ten minutes and you still weren't there the panic set in. He told the director he was off to find you and before he could protest Miles was out the door and running to your trailer. Without knocking he forced himself inside but you were not there, sighing he walked back out and that’s when he heard a cry. Just not any cry though, the same ones he had heard from your bedroom every night. Bending down he looked under the trailer to see you were behind it, a heap in the gravel as you cried your eyes out.

"Y/N!" he was around the trailer in a flash, dropping beside you as he cradled you in his arms. You cried against him, barely aware he was even there. He found tears seeping out of his own eyes as he tried to determine what was wrong with his best friend, his oldest friend, the girl he loved more than anything in the world.

"Miles" you finally cried, gripping onto him like he could disappear any second, and he found himself lifting his head, trying to calm his heart and he let it settle in that something was really really wrong.

"Y/N I want to help you but I need you to tell me what’s wrong" he finally said, pulling you close and rubbing a hand through your hair.

"I will, I promise, just not here. Please not hear, when we're home" you begged and he heard the desperation in your voice, the fear that strangled you from telling him the truth he needed three weeks ago.

"Okay, at home. You can tell me then, just please calm down" he cried and you nodded againt his chest, counting your breaths like you had practiced. He held you through it, silent as he allowed you support while you did what you needed to do. Finally you gave him a nod and he helped you to your feet. He wished you would tell the directors you were sick, that you’d do the scene tomorrow but he knew youd be mad that he suggested it so he walked you that direction anyway, wiping tears from his eyes and painting a fake smile on his face and he realized that's exactly what you had been doing the last three weeks.

After that you both had been jittery getting through the day. Finally the director called it and awkwardness enveloped you as you collected your things and headed towards Miles Bronco together. He did his best to keep silent as he drove you through the busy LA streets, driving towards the safe haven you both shared. Miles did his best to keep his mouth shut as he locked his car and unlocked the apartment door. You were very clealry distraught and he watched as you dumped your things on the kitchen counter, the weight of the world crushing you into the ground. So he moved towards the couch, very obviously leaving the seat open beside him for you to take and start explaining yourself. You knew not to fight it, you had made a promise, and you never broke a promise with Miles.

"I'm not taking anymore bullshit Y/N, I want the truth and all of it right now" he finally broke the silence as you took your seat beside him. Hugging a pillow to your chest, tears lined your eyes as you finally told him everything from the beginning. Miles did his best to not get angry and interrupt as you told your truth, the weight of the news much heavier than he expected.

"For three weeks, that's almost a whole month Y/N" guilt bloomed through your body and he pressed his head in his hands, trying to not let the anger consume him. Yet as he thought of how angry he was he was able to recognize the jealous pull. That some bastard got to kiss you without permission when he's been wanting to kiss you the way a real man should since college. He had never realized that he had hid that from himself all these years, denied himself of recognizing his attraction towards you. Stopped himself from loving you, and maybe if he didn't do that this would've never happened.

"I was scared he would hurt me, we were always alone" you told him, wanting him to know that you wanted him to know but sometimes fear controlled you in ways you couldn't explain.

"I was right inside that first night, I could've come out and stopped him" Miles argued and that’s when it hit him. The front porch, the doorbell, his phone. His eyes widened and you watched as his thoughts danced across his face.

"What is it?" you asked and without answering he rushed to his room, plugging in his phone as he opened the app that could hold the key to everything.

"Don't worry Y/N, I got a plan" sighing you let him hide out, making yourself some dinner. and trying to go to sleep despite knowing a nightmare would awake you soon. Yet when you woke up Miles was snoring softly beside you in your bed. A wave of calm rushed over you and you scooted closer before falling alseep again, the first real rest you had gotten in a long time.

When you woke up to your alarm he was no longer there, his car not even in the driveway. You figured he had early scenes and you had forgot. So you got ready, tried to slow your heart as you made your way to set, trying to prepare yourself for another day of torture. Yet before you could be called to set a knock sounded at your door, a worker telling you that you were needed in the table read room, a meeting with the show runners. Realizing that you were more than likely going to be fired you allowed a few tears to fall as you made your way in that direction. Your situation did not look good as you spotted the director, all the producers including your own abuser, and Miles all sat around the table.

"We're glad you could join us Y/N, have a seat" the director told you and you nodded, scurrying to the open seat beside Bradley.

"Usually we don't call meetings until production time John, what is it" one of the producers asked the director and John gave you a soft smile.

"Miles came forward to me today with some information I think we can't ignore" he finally said and your heart doubled in speed as you realized what he had done, started a battle you would never win without any evidence. "Mr. Conway here has been harrassing Y/N for the last three weeks, threatening to debunk her career if she told anyone"

"Oh this is bullshit and you know it" Conway said, but everyone clear as day could see the fear across his face.

"Miles has also provided evidence" John said before clicking the screen, ring doorbell footage of the first night appearing on screen. Miles hand wrapped around your own, knowing this would be tough to watch. It was hard for him to watch himself, crying the moment he realized you sat outside in tears waiting for him to go to bed.

The group watched as you and Conway approached the door holding hands, they all watched as his smile turned into a growl as he shoved you against the wall, fear clear as day on your face and he got so close you were breathing each others air. "If you don't agree to dating me I will proceed to make your life a living hell, you'll never be hired ever again, people will think of how trrible you are, your fans will hate you, after tonight your mine and if you tell absolutely anybody it’s game over, you'll never amount to anything ever again"

Then they all watched as you frantically nodded and he forced himself on you, you clearly trying to push him away. Then they watched him harshly release you, walk to his car, as you clearly sobbed on the front porch. John ending the video before they could see anymore, you clearly distraught from reliving that moment.

"We're going to allow Y/N to decide if she wants to press charges and I am fully prepared to pause production if you aren't willing to immediately terminate him" John informed them and you felt your heart warm over at the thought of him protecting you.

"We understand completely, Conway you’re fired. Have your things packed by the end of the day and be expecting a court order coming your way" relief washed over you completely as Conway sat there, shock all over him. Miles pulled you into a hug, Conway leaving the room with profanities falling from his mouth.

"We're sorry for this Y/N, if you need anything at all we're here for you. We will also testify in court if you choose to go in that direction" you nodded as they also got up and left the room. John placed a comforting hand on your back before leaving as well, a true hero in this situation.

"I can't believe you came forward for me" you told Miles, still hugging him like your life depended on it.

"I had too, your my bestfriend. I love you, I have always loved you" Miles told you, pushing some hair out of your face. Losing you was never an option.

"What if your plan didn't work?" you asked and he shrugged.

"Then I was quitting the movie" he told you earnestly and you smiled, pulling him tighter into your hug.

"I love you Miles" you told him and he smiled before pulling back a little.

"I know this probably isn't the right time but after all this I figure you deserve to know that I'm in love with you Y/N. I love you in that more than best friend way and after this whole disaster you deserve to know that beause you deserve to be loved the right way" for a moment you were shocked, allowing his words to sink in because there was a moment you considered you and Miles. You just figured he'd never feel the same so you brushed it off, ignoring it for the sake of your friendship.

“Are you sure?” Miles hoped that this doubt wasn’t a symptom of the last few weeks of abuse.

“Positive Y/N, it took a lot of self control to not kill that asshole” you found yourself giggling through tears, a wide smile on your face for the first time in a month.

“I love you in a more than a best friend way too Miles” you grinned at him and he smiled arms pulling you close again.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, wanting to make sure it was okay since that asshole never did.

“Yes, please” and he didn’t need any more confirmation before his lips were on yours. Instead of holding your breath like you had been for the last three weeks you inhaled him, breathing his air like he just filled you with life after the past month of torture.

A kiss to redeem every bad one, a kiss to start the healing process, and start finding yourself again. Which you had a feeling would be better than ever considering you had finally allowed yourself to love Miles in a way you always wished you could. This time you didn’t have to look out for the warning signs because you had Miles to protect you, and look for them too.

[xoxoavenger]

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

summary: Steve’s parents always put up a perfect tree with white lights and silver ornaments. When Y/N sees this, she figures out the perfect plan to make sure the tree transforms into Steve’s very own colorful, homemade mess of family. 

word count: 4249

warnings: mentions of child abuse (except technically assault bc steve is 20), steve harrington’s terrible parents, completely hating on white light trees im not sorry

12 Days of Christmas

main masterlist

"You put up a Christmas tree?" Y/N questioned when she came into Steve's house. There was a large, fluffy tree in the corner of the living room, all white lights and silver ornaments, a crystal tree topper bringing the whole theme together.

It was ugly.

"My parents put it up when they came home last week. They won't be back until a couple days before Christmas, so they put it up during Thanksgiving." Steve explained, not seeming too excited about the fact that his parents were leaving him alone for most of December.

Y/N remembered when Steve's parents would only leave on weekends. When he graduated, they stopped coming to even check in, only keeping up appearances every once in awhile. It infuriated Y/N, knowing his parents were probably living separately in another state, not caring about their son who had been to literal hell.

"Where are all your other ornaments?" Y/N tried to ask casually, not wanting to seem judgmental. She walked toward the tree to inspect it, finding that there was nothing more to the tree than the bland frosted tips and the white lights.

"What do you mean?" Steve seemed confused, and Y/N frowned slightly. In her house, her parents had put her homemade ornaments and fun souvenirs all over their tree, multi-colored lights and a festive tree skirt making it feel like home.

"Didn't you make ornaments in school?" She questioned, turning to see Steve frowning.

"Well, yeah," Steve licked his lips, staring at the tree. "I mean, I'm sure those are all in my attic?" It was a question, which was enough to tell Y/N that he had no idea where the ornaments were, only that his parents didn't care to put them on the tree.

"Steve," Y/N put a hand on his shoulder running it down his bicep and bringing him close to her. "I'd put them on my tree." She smiled up at him when he looked down at her, blushing slightly.

"This isn't really my tree anyway." Steve pulled his arm away from her grasp and put it around her, looking at the tree for a few more seconds before Steve turned them both around and began walking toward the kitchen.

"Did you make us hot chocolate?" She asked, eyes lighting up when he grabbed a mug off the counter and handed it to her with a smirk. He shrugged and took a sip, watching her bring it to her lips and take a sip. Her eyes widened when she realized what Steve had actually made. "You made us spiked hot chocolate?" She whispered, even though there was no one else in the house. With everything that had happened that year, it almost made her feel like a normal.

"Of course I did." Steve smirked at her, taking another sip. Y/N did too, and although she couldn't tell what he had spiked the hot chocolate with it tasted well.

"I guess I'm staying over then," She smiled, walking to the couch and flopping down without spilling her hot chocolate. She noticed the movies on the counter that Steve had more than likely stolen from the video store; the good kind too, the Christmas movies everyone wanted to check out. He must've pulled a bunch of strings to get these.

"Okay, let's just pretend you don't have your overnight bag in your car." Steve teased, grabbing her mug and putting it next to his on the coffee table before laying on her, kissing her neck and causing her to giggle and wrap her arms around him.

~

"What's wrong with Steve's tree?" Dustin asked when Y/N unlocked Steve's front door with her own key. All the rest of the kids were with Steve. He had picked them up but had called Y/N from Max's trailer, knowing he wouldn't have time to pick up Dustin and take them all back to Steve's for movie night. They were getting even closer to Christmas now, all the kids only having one week left before their break.

"Um," Y/N, started, licking her lips as she stared at the boring tree. "It's just, uh," She was trying to find a nice way to describe it, even if Steve wasn't there.

"It's boring. And ugly." Dustin blurted out, walking closer to inspect it.

"No, it's just organized." Y/N decided on, but she found that she wanted to grab one of the stupid silver balls and throw it against a wall just to watch it shatter.

"Where are all the other ones?" Dustin asked, grabbing an ornament and plucking it off the tree. "These ones are stupid." Could always count on Dustin to speak the truth that was on his mind.

"Dustin," Y/N scolded, grabbing the ornament and putting it back on the tree. "Steve's parents put this up. So we can't say anything about it's short-comings, alright?" Y/N crossed her arms.

"I'm going to make him a whole new tree." Dustin commented before moving to the kitchen, seemingly done with the whole idea. It gave Y/N a great one, however, and her mind lit up.

"That's a great idea!" She said, hoping the kids wouldn't think they were too old for what she was about to suggest.

"What is?" Dustin asked, head buddies inside a cabinet as he searched for snacks.

"Why don't you get everyone to make Steve a homemade ornament!" She was getting way too excited, she knew by the way Dustin slowly pulled his head away to look at her. "He would be so happy, oh my gosh." Y/N was thinking of the way Steve would react when he received hand made presents from his favorite people.

"Right," She could tell Dustin was trying to sound like a grown-up, but from the upturned corners of his eyes she could tell he knew it was a great idea.

"Steve can't know," Y/N reminded him, and she almost laughed at the look he gave her.

"What is this, amateur hour?"

~

"Why isn't your tree lit up?" Y/N asked, even though she knew exactly why his tree wasn't lit up with those stupid white lights.

"I don't know. I think a bulb is out." He said, glancing to the side before going back to the movie they were watching. Y/N had given herself fifteen minutes before she asked, and now she had to be chill. This needed to seem like a coincidence.

"Oh, gosh." She muttered, settling into his side and counting to thirty in her head. "Ya know, I think I have some lights in my car." She stared at the movie as she felt Steve move around to stare at her.

"Y/N," Steve started reaching forward and pausing the movie. "Why the hell do you have tree lights in your car?" Because I unscrewed the first couple bulbs in your lights to make sure none of them worked.

"I was going take them back for my parents." She lied. She had picked them up on the way over to Steve's house. "But I'm sure they won't mind if you use them. After all, a Christmas tree without lights is just a tree."

"Okay," Steve sounded skeptical, but he still followed Y/N out to her car and carried the box of lights in.

"Oh, shoot," She muttered as she took the lights out of the box. "I guess they left some ornaments in here." She held up the couple of ornaments she had also bought from the store. One was a basketball, and the other was two penguins with cute scarves leaning into each other.

"Did they?" Now Steve was definitely onto her, but she would never tell him the truth.

"Yeah." She sighed, then held them up to his tree. "They look better on your's anyway." She smiled at him, and he just shook his head and leaned down to unplug the old, white lights.

"They're colored." Steve said, looking at the bulbs.

"Believe it or not, tree lights can be other colors." She smirked. Steve grabbed the basketball ornament, holding it up.

"I guess ornaments can be too." He smirked, looking at her in a way that made her blush, because he had to of known she had brought the obvious ornaments for him.

"This'll be fun!" Y/N said, smiling ear to ear as she turned the radio in the kitchen to the Christmas station. Steve returned the smile, grabbing a chair to be able to reach the top of the large tree.

"Here, I'll hand you the ornaments and you can put them on the couch." Steve told her, taking off a couple of the boring white and silver ones. Y/N contemplated 'accidentally' dropping them on the ground, but decided against it, incase Steve would want to redecorate the tree before his parents got home.

Part of her hoped his parents came home to see the tree all decorated by his real family and have an aneurysm.

"Careful with this." He said, taking the crystal tree topper off, gently handing it to Y/N. Her heart swelled at her thought process. Maybe Steve did have something important on his tree.

"Is it a family heirloom?" She asked, secretly hoping that at least something on the tree had sentimental value.

"What? No," Steve chuckled, and Y/N tried not to deflate as she set the topper on the coffee table, just incase. "It's just expensive, probably. I'd imagine that's real crystal." He grabbed the colored lights and plugged them in, and Y/N tried to contain her glee as they lit up. When he was done putting them around the tree, it already looked so much different.

"Here." Y/N bypassed the topper and made Steve put the penguin ornament up first. He stared at the ornament for a moment, taking it in, and then put it front and center.

Where it should be.

By the time all the other ornaments were up, the tree still looked somewhat boring but at least it was a start. Y/N couldn't wait for the day when the branches would be weighed down the homemade ornaments. She squeezed Steve's hand at the thought, smiling up at him when he squeezed back.

She was going to make this their tree.

~

"Are you sure you can't make it to Will's?" Dustin begged. Everyone was at Steve's to give them their presents two days before Christmas, since he wouldn't be able to go to the Byers for Christmas. They had been going back and forth between Steve opening someone's gift and then him giving them a gift. So far Steve had got Lucas a Pacers jersey, and Lucas got Steve an ornament made out of a Hawkins High jersey that Lucas definitely didn't 'lose' last year. Erica had made Steve an ornament with yarn using his favorite colors and popsicle sticks, while she had received a First Edition American Girl Doll. She couldn't even act like it was childish because she was so excited. El made Steve an ornament out of clay that had so much glitter it got everywhere when Steve picked it up, but he still smiled and thanked her as he handed her a box containing a cute beanie in her favorite color. Mike had given Steve an ornament of a ceramic radio, and he tried to act nonchalant when Steve gifted him a signed copy of his favorite book.

"If my parents don't show up, I promise I'll be there." Steve said it lightly, but Y/N heard the sadness in his voice. She hoped his parents showed up, but she also knew the bad place Steve's head would be in after his parents' visit.

"Is it bad to hope your parents don't show up?" Max asked, handing Steve her present. Steve was starting to see the pattern with all the kids' gifts, but he enjoyed all of them.

"Just a little bit." Nancy said with a small smile. Since the younger kids couldn't stay as long, the older ones were going to do a small gift exchange afterward and indulge in some alcoholic beverages and spend the night, leaving early in the morning.

"I still hope they don't show up." Max confessed as Steve took the tissue paper out of the bag and smiled at yet another ornament. This one was a cute little car that somewhat looked like Steve's, which made him laugh softly as he thought of how Max had drove his car when he had been knocked out by her brother.

"Thank you," Steve smiled, handing the ornament to Y/N, who was carefully putting them in a box for later as he handed Max her present from him.

"No," Max said as she looked at the box, already knowing what it was. "Steve," She whispered, ripping the wrapping paper and opening the box to reveal the skateboard she knew was in there. She looked up at the ceiling, trying not to cry as she caught a glimpse of the back of it, which was decorated with a bunch of arcade game characters.

"Do you like it?" Steve asked, eyes wide with hope.

"Yes, you idiot." Max said, sniffling and blinking before moving back in the group.

"Alright, last ones, come on," Y/N said, looking out the window to see Karen waiting to pick up the kids. Will smiled as he moved forward, handing Steve a small box. He opened it to see a homemade clay ornament of his bat, complete with the nails. He chuckled as he held it up, and everyone laughed with him.

"This is amazing." Steve said with a huge smile. "Thank you, Will." Y/N watched all the kids look annoyed that Will had made the best ornament, and she smiled as she leaned down to hand Steve the gift from Will.

Everyone watched as Will unwrapped his gift, which Y/N had actually found and agreed to let Steve give to Will. It was a couple of limited edition Star Wars drinking glasses, and Will smiled and thanked Steve after getting a good look.

"Alright, dumbass," Steve said, smiling down at Dustin, who was smiling.

"Let me open mine first." The younger boy said, grabbing putting his poorly wrapped box behind his back. Steve rolled his eyes and leaned down to grab Dustin's gift.

Steve had freaked out about Dustin's gift. He hadn't known what to get the boy who he saw as a brother. Y/N had to help him pick between numerous gifts, trying not to laugh as he put way too much thought into it.

Dustin ripped into his gift, a Super Mario Bros Nintendo Game & Watch. Dustin was silent as he stared at the game. Steve stared as he waited for Dustin to say something. His head was down, so they couldn't see his reaction.

"Dustin?" Y/N asked softly, leaning forward. Before she could figure out what Dustin was feeling, the boy launched himself at Steve, who let out a grunt as he was knocked back.

"Thank you," Dustin cried, and Y/N watched as Steve let out a breath of relief and wrapped his arms around him.

"Of course," Steve responded, eyes closing as he enjoyed the hug. Y/N looked at Nancy, the two almost crying at the interaction. After everyone had composed themselves, Dustin handed a small box to Steve.

"I wonder what it is?" Steve joked, smirking as he opened up an object wrapped in tissue paper. He smirked as he opened it, but the smirk was instantly dropped when he saw what the ornament was.

This one was one of the homemade dough ones in the shape of a circle, Dustin's handwriting in the middle reading 'Best Brother Ever.'

Steve looked over at Dustin and immediately was crying.

After that everyone erupted in chaos, all the kids wanting to put their ornaments on the tree as Karen honked the horn outside.

"Mine needs to be at the top!" Max yelled, pushing Dustin away.

"I'm sorry, did your's make him cry?" Dustin screamed back, pushing.

"How about neither of your's get to be at the top?" Mike said, and the other two both rolled their eyes.

"You didn't even make a homemade one!" El said, helping Will and Erica take off the boring ornaments.

"Let's all just calm down." Nancy said, watching the tree shake.

"I'm gonna go get a bag for all the paper." Steve said, kissing Y/N's temple and walking out of the room.

"Smart man." Jonathan said, rolling his eyes as he watched the kids continue fighting. Y/N shook her head as she scoffed.

"Should we do something? That tree looks a little too close to falling." Robin interjected. Y/N nodded, but just as she went to stop the kids the star on top of the tree came tumbling down. Everyone was silent as it shattered, the sound ringing out.

"Everyone stay still!" Steve ordered, however it wasn't in a harsh voice; it was the voice he used when the Upside Down monsters were getting too close. All the kids looked over to him with wide eyes, but he was just staring at the ground.

"Steve," Y/N whispered, not sure how he would react to this. The topper didn't have an emotional value, but Y/N knew that Steve's parents wouldn't be too thrilled about it.

"El, Will, Lucas, Erica, you all walk that way." Steve pointed away from the shattered remains, and the kids silently obeyed, leaving Max, Dustin, and Mike standing in the mess.

"I'm so sorry." Max whispered, and Y/N could tell her eyes were wet with tears.

"We can fix it, look, it's not even that-"

"Dustin stop!" Steve cut off the younger boy, who was now crouched as he tried to put the bigger pieces together in the silver frame. Dustin looked over, and Y/N could tell he was about to freak out. She knew Steve was trying to make sure none of the kids would get hurt. That was his number one priority.

"I didn't mean to, I promise, I just," Dustin drifted off, voice high and tight as he tried not to cry.

"Are you guys okay?" Steve asked, walking over and grabbing the large pieces and putting them in the bag he had grabbed. "You weren't cut, were you?" His words shocked the kids, who were just staring at him, petrified.

"You aren't mad?" Mike asked, breaking the ice. "You aren't gonna yell at us?"

"Are you hurt?" Steve repeated, completely ignoring Mike's questions.

"No," Max shook her head, bringing her hands up to wipe her tears.

"Okay," Steve held up the silver frame that the crystal used to be in, and as he stared at it Y/N heard the thoughts in his head.

His parents were going to kill him.

"Put your ornaments on the tree and let's grab your stuff." Y/N said to the kids, who finished their original task and grabbed their jackets, all watching Steve, who was now sitting on the floor with the remains in his hand.

"We can replace it!" Dustin said, and Y/N just gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Let's talk about this later." She told him, herding the rest of the kids out of the house and promising to update them and apologize to Steve for them.

"Are you alright?" Robin was at Steve's side, who was still blank faced.

"My parents are actually gonna kill me." Steve muttered, looking up to Y/N with wide eyes. She was with him in no time, wiping away the remaining pieces of crystal to sit with him. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to calm him somehow.

"It'll be alright." She told him, kissing his shoulder. Steve just shook his head, shrugging Y/N and Robin off as he stood, throwing the silver frame in the bag.

"Oh God," Steve said, staring at the tree, which was fully decorated in the kid's ornaments and the multicolored lights and a couple of the branches were bent, but the tree finally looked like his, not his mom's or his dad's.

Oh yeah, they were gonna kill him.

~

"You're sure his parents came?" Max asked, clearly feeling guilty about breaking the tree topper the day prior. Everyone was at the Byers on Christmas Eve night, the kids having a plan to stay awake until Christmas.

"He got a call from them this morning." Y/N confirmed with a sad smile. She took a bite of one of the Christmas cookies she had helped Joyce with that afternoon, after she left Steve's house. She wasn't sure what he was going to do about the tree topper, but she knew he was going out to get white lights for the tree, which made her sad.

"Have you heard from him since?" Lucas asked, and by now all the kids were listening intently.

"No." She shook her head with a frown. She hadn't tried calling him, because she didn't want his parents to pick up. They knew that her and Steve was dating her, but like most things with their son, they chose to ignore it.

"Is he okay?" Dustin asked, catching the attention of Hopper, who was very well versed in the rumors about the Harrington family.

"Yes," Y/N said with an awkward chuckle. Hopper caught her eye, and she pulled her lips in.

"Have you talked to him?" Hop asked, sitting forward in his chair.

"No, but I'm sure he's fine." Y/N lied.

"Maybe I should go check." Hopper said, standing.

"Can I come?" Y/N stood, heart racing as she realized her and Hopper were on the same page.

"What's going on?" Joyce asked, looking at Nancy for clarification, but it seemed everyone else was just as confused.

"I'm going to pick Steve up." Hopper announced, no room for arguing.

"But his parents," Robin started, and Y/N just gave her look with her eyebrows raised, because there was no need to freak the kids out.

"What's going on?" Erica asked, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"It's fine, we're just gonna go get Steve so he can be with us." Y/N smiled. Before anyone could say anything, there was a knock at the door.

"Are you expecting anyone else?" Hopper asked Joyce, who was rushing to the door.

"No," She stepped back to let Hopper open the door, covering the opening with his body. He was silent, and Joyce and Y/N tried to look around his body.

"Who is it?" Joyce asked, finally making the cop move out of the way.

"Steve?" Y/N asked, seeing the boy standing with a large box. He had a bright red mark across his cheekbone, one that was swelling and slowly turning less bright and more purple.

"Come in, honey." Joyce put a hand on his back and pulled him inside.

"What happened?" Y/N whispered when Steve was inside, tracing a light thumb over it. He just shook his head as he moved to kiss her hand.

"Just say the word, kid." Hopper said, clapping his shoulder as a silent understanding passed between them.

"I couldn't bring anything for dinner, but I brought some stuff for the tree." Steve said as he walked into the living room with the kids. They all gathered around as he opened the box to reveal all the ornaments they had given him. "My dad tried to break them." He said quietly, and Y/N caught Hopper's eye as they realized how Steve had gotten the mark.

Steve took a beating to keep the ornaments the kids gave him.

"Well," Steve smiled at all the kids, who looked like a mix between sad and confused. "What're you doing just standing here? Put them on the tree." He nodded at the Byers' tree, and the kids all reached in to grab their ornaments, much more calm about putting them up this time.

"You brought the penguins." Y/N said, looking in the box and seeing the ornaments she had gotten him. She went to grab them when she realized that there was an extra one in there, face down. She grabbed it and flipped it around, seeing a picture of them on the ceramic circle. She felt the tears well as she stared at it, looking up at him.

"I actually had Jonathan do it before I knew what you set the kids up to." He told her, and she just smirked.

"I have no idea what you mean." But they both knew she was lying. They shared a smile and grabbed the remaining ornaments, putting them on the crowded tree. When it was done, everyone stood back to take it in. Steve put his arm around Y/N and decided this was the tree he wanted from now on - no more plain trees.

"We made you something." Dustin said, and Steve turned to see the kids all crowded around, Dustin with his arms around his back.

"It's not crystal," Max said as an apology. Steve's eyes widened as he realized what was going on.

"You guys," He started, but then Dustin was thrusting his arms out and Steve was met with a star made from cardboard. It looked pretty decent, and Steve felt his eyes water as he turned it to see the back, which all the kids had signed for him.

"You did this for me?" Steve asked softly, letting a couple tears fall.

"Will made the cardboard, but we decorated." El explained, and Steve smiled as he realized why there was glitter on one corner.

"Thank you," He whispered, letting them all crowd him and hug him.

"Put it on the tree," Joyce nodded to the tree, which didn't have a topper yet. Steve looked surprised, but still stood on the side of the couch and reached over, putting the star at the top where it belonged. He jumped down and grabbed Y/N close, and she wrapped her arms around him. She blushed as he kissed her forehead.

"Merry Christmas, Steve." She whispered as the kids began singing Deck the Halls around them.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @roxaya @sadbitchfangirl @gloryekaterina @lostcause1 @oblivion-void @alexshaff2002 @m-rae23 @icequeen1371 @freezaz123 @mads-weasley 

(if your name is crossed out it means that for some reason I could not tag you)

[peaktotheocean]

Preparations

A Steddie soulmate AU on ao3 here

For the longest time, Eddie’s soulmate instincts had him gathering normal items: hairspray, peanut M&M’s, a Queen cassette tape, etc.

But lately, he’s found himself picking up four-inch nails, hearing aid batteries, and a distressing amount of first aid supplies. At this point, he just hope his soulmate survives long enough for the two of them to meet.

It’s not that Eddie didn’t notice the sparks when he and Harrington touched. He just had other things on his mind. 

Like the fact that they were trapped in literal hell and his apparent soulmate had just gotten nearly torn apart by bats. 

He wasn’t so sure said soulmate had even noticed sparks. Steve was a little preoccupied with having gotten bit to all hell, so Eddie wasn’t insulted by the lack of reaction. God fucking willing, they’d have time.

Please, god, let there be time.

All his soulmate preparations, the first aid supplies, wasted because they were piled up in a trailer that was currently an active crime scene. Everytime Eddie had gone into Melvald's for a soda and came out with another tube of antibiotic ointment and a roll of bandages didn't matter because his soulmate needed them now and Eddie only had tinted chapstick and nails in his pockets. He wasn't sure why Steve needed long nails but Eddie was pretty sure that they wouldn't be of much use right now.

Nancy tore a piece of her skirt off to wrap around Steve's torso and Eddie wished it was him. He wanted to touch Steve again. He needed to feel that spark, to prove to himself that it was real.

So many things were coming together in his mind. Not just Steve's lack of interest in popularity or his relatively new friendship with noted nerd Robin Buckley. But the fact that Eddie’s soulmate instincts had him stocking up to build the ultimate first aid kit ever since November 1983. Right when the Byers boy went missing. His soulmate had been dealing with monsters and Eddie had been all turned around, confused at his soulmate's need for large gauze pads and hearing aid batteries. 

Nancy went ahead with Robin to scout out the forest and Eddie took the opportunity to gently wrap an arm around Steve's waist. He took on most of his weight and felt Steve swallow. 

If he hadn't noticed the first time, Steve definitely felt him now. The bond between them sparked and Eddie wanted to offer Steve the damn chapstick.

"I have...so much stuff for you," Steve laughed breathlessly. It quickly turned into a cough and Eddie shushed him.

"Later, Harrington. Let's get out of here first, okay?"

Later turned out to be much later than either of them anticipated. Eddie did get to use some of his first aid supplies for Steve. Then Steve had to use the remaining ones on Eddie but he couldn't complain too much. They matched scars and souls now. Not ideal but they were both alive to see it. 

Frankly, Eddie was mostly just grateful that he didn't have to use the Queen CD that he had stashed in his drawer. It was one of his more recent soulmate preparation purchases. Not a bad one but he'd rather listen to it with Steve when they weren't in danger of possession or death. 

Even preliminarily cleared of murder charges, he wasn't allowed back to his trailer just yet which wasn't a real problem for Eddie. His only regret was that the rest of his preparation, his soulmate drawer, filled with bits and pieces for Steve, was inaccessible. First aid supplies didn't mean much now that they were all spent and already replaced with hospital grade bandages. 

Just a week prior, he had found a thick and heavy quilt at the thrift store and just needed to get it for his soulmate, for Steve. He wished he could wrap him up in it now. Hospital socks and thin blankets weren't a good substitute, no matter how grateful Eddie was that their little group was alive. 

Eddie tried to keep that in mind through their testing and the government documents and the checks for him and Wayne that could buy them a new house but couldn't get peace of mind back for either of them. They were alive at least, and he'd have plenty of time and money to buy new peanut M&Ms for Steve. 

Finally, their release came and Eddie and Robin piled into Steve's car, the latter getting in the backseat without a complaint. Eddie knew they'd be back in the hospital soon enough to take their shift listening to Max complain about physical therapy. 

To his surprise, Steve didn’t bring them to the big fuck off mansion that Eddie has almost certainly egged and TP’d one Halloween Eve back in his early teen years. Instead, he kept driving further, past what Eddie thought was his neighborhood, Robin uncharacteristically quiet in the back seat until Eddie turned around and realized she had dozed off.

They came to a little two story house that seemed squished even though the next-nearest house wasn’t even close to it.

“Rob? We’re home.” Steve reached in the back seat and gently shook her shoulder to wake her up. “I tried to carry her inside once, but she woke up panicked halfway through and we both ended up on the grass,” he told Eddie, smiling fondly at the memory.

“You both live here? Rob is still in high school.” 

“I’m eighteen,” Robin mumbled sleepily, which didn’t answer Eddie’s question.

“I’ll explain tomorrow," Steve promised. "Right now, I just want to sleep until the kids wake us up in the morning.”

“You should have never given Dustin a key," Robin grunted as she shifted into a sitting position. She took Eddie's hand and let him pull her up and out of the car. 

“I gave Max a key," Steve corrected her, leading them both into the house. "Dustin stole it from her and made copies for everyone.”

“That little shit,” Eddie laughed in disbelief. Steve tilted his head to look at Eddie fondly, locking the front door, without taking his eyes off of him.

Robin gave them both hugs good night, practically hanging off their necks to the point where Eddie could see Steve wanted to just pick her up and carry her to bed. Steve watched Eddie through the process, like he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He eventually held out his hand and Eddie took it, following him up the stairs.

His room was a mishmash of furniture that, if Eddie had to guess, was sourced from the Byers house before they left for California. A few thrift store pieces maybe, but nothing that said “Harrington Mansion.” Steve looked at home here, sighing as he finally shut the door behind them both.

Eddie made a beeline for the bureau. He couldn’t explain it but the blank space on the top was his in a way.

He slowly emptied out the few things he had in his zipped jacket pockets, just two bits that he had picked up the morning everything started. It wasn't much but he still needed to put them in their proper place.  

A little tube of tinted chapstick, berry-flavored, and, still confusing to him, a bunch of nails.

Steve winced at the sound of the nails hitting the wood. He walked into the small space between the bed and the wall and picked something up off the floor.

A wooden baseball bat with the thick end of it absolutely chock full of similar long nails.

“Jesus. I wouldn’t have guessed that." Eddie stared at it. Steve rotated the bat slowly, showing it in all its gory glory. 

“We could have made another one. Again,” Steve offer ruefully. “The first aid stuff all came in handy at least.”

Eddie wanted to apologize. He wished he had just been able to keep complaining about his soulmate’s normal teenage purchases. He desperately missed the days where he’d have the urge to purchase just hairspray, cream-colored, with a woman Eddie didn’t recognize promoting the brand, peanut M&M’s, and fruity chapstick. Maybe, one day, his instincts for Steve would feel safe enough that he wouldn’t want to slip into a pharmacy and purchase a roll of bandages. 

One day.

“What did you pick up for me?” Eddie asked, trying and failing not to sound too eager. To his delight, Steve ducked his head, a shy little smile peeking out at Eddie. Before he could go over there and take both of Steve’s hands in his, Steve got on his knees and reached underneath his bed. 

He pulled out a shoebox and held it with both hands, trying his best to be careful with a box that looked at least ten years old to begin with. It was about to fall apart.

Steve opened it up towards Eddie, a true soulmate offering.

It was chock full of random bits and pieces that Eddie knew were his. Guitar strings, still coiled up in their original packaging, lay flat at the bottom of the box, along with a few packs of rolling paper. There were a few random guitar picks too. Eddie could almost see Steve going into the music shop for records and adding them on top of his order, last minute, at the cashier. A pack of the hair-ties that didn't snag at Eddie's curls that he never bought because they were just a tad more expensive than the regular ones. 

Little glass jars of paint from the local hobby shop, clinking as they rolled against one another as Steve tilted the box. The last one in the row rolled right into a gorgeous pocketknife with a sleek silver handle.

There were dice in there too. Not just D20s, and even more than a full set too. All different colors. He reached out and plucked out a D10 that was a deep, blood red, swirled with an inky black. It was gorgeous.

“I didn’t know what the dice really meant until I met the kids," Steve admitted. "They explained it to me and were pretty excited to meet you. The other stuff I managed just fine for the most part.”

“The paint?”

Steve smiled and set the box down on the bed, sitting on one side of it. Eddie sat down on the other. Steve cradled the little glass jars in his hands, rolling them back and forth. “Once I got into the hobby shop, I knew I needed paint. There was so much of it but…I don’t know. I just knew which colors I needed. You needed,” he corrected himself. 

He held the bottles out to Eddie, who ran a finger over each of them until he came to a yellow that managed to be bright and warm all at once.

“Yeah.” Eddie looked up at Steve and smiled. He took the bottles from him and placed them back in the box. He pushed it away so it wasn’t between them anymore and moved right into Steve’s space. Steve didn’t move away, not an inch. “I know exactly what colors those are for,” Eddie told him as he closed the distance between the two of them. 

Eddie had imagined what it would feel like kissing his soulmate for the first time. He wasn’t surprised to find out that all his wondering never came close to the real thing. 

Just like when they touched for the first time, Eddie felt a spark, but this time, that spark burst into ten thousand more. Eddie felt pinpricks all over his body as he leaned into Steve. They grew warmer and encompassed his entire body, sending the heat down to his toes. He needed to feel all of Steve and as if in sync, Steve let himself drop into the bed so Eddie could fully lie on top of him, both of them trying to connect in every way. 

The kisses remained soft and sweet until, finally too exhausted, Eddie just tucked his face into Steve’s neck, taking deep breaths. Steve’s hand stroked Eddie’s curls and the last thing Eddie remembered before falling asleep was Steve’s lips on his crown.

end

[ymaohoh]

'Rule 63' - Hellcheer Fic - Oneshot

Superstar athlete Chris Cunningham is struggling with nightmares and visions and goes to freaky Ellie Munson for relief. Rule 63' - Gender Swap - Hellcheer AU Basically a gender swap version of 'Chrissy Lives' Characters are kind of OC but not really. I've tried to keep them as character-based as possible but there had to be minor tweaks to make it realistic in the 80's. POV switches between characters.

Ellie is 19. Chris is 18. Really enjoyed writing this one. Let me know what you think and if I should do another chapter. Also on Archive. Word count: 9,322 Rated: No ratings, some swearing.

Setting: Hawkins High School

Date: 1986, baby

Introducing: 

Ellie Munson, lead guitarist in amateur rock band Corroded Coffin, repeating her senior year again because she has crap grades and a rebellious streak. Her interests? Dungeons and Dragons (she runs the Hellfire Club as D&M and rules with an iron fist), listening to heavy metal at full volume with the car windows rolled down, and reading (and getting high to) The Hobbit, Dune, and other fantasy books which let her drift away. She was the school pariah because she didn’t play by the same rules - ‘a freak’ - and people just didn’t like her very much. The other students (and most of Hawkins) hissed she was a ‘bad influence’ - a junkie slut, trailer trash, juvenile delinquent - who would no doubt end up just like her shitty mom. Oh they were just waiting for the day she stumbled and proved them right. 

Ellie wasn’t so sure - she was mean and scary, yes, and she played up the freak role at school because it made certain dickheads keep their distance - but she knew she wanted more out of life. This year she was getting her diploma and getting the fuck out of Hawkins and away from these small-minded hicks. They could literally kiss her ass. 

Introducing: 

Chris Cunningam, captain of the basketball team and hot-shot athlete with college scholarships coming out of his ears. His interests? Sports, tutoring (his grades were outstanding), and being a perfect all-round good guy who everybody simply fawned over. Guys were lining up to be his buddy and girls wanted to date him. You’d think he’d be this obnoxious douchebag but Chris stood out from his peers - he was kind, patient, always looking out for the little guy. Everyone knew Chris had the perfect future lined up for the taking (a stable high-earning job within his dad’s law firm, a big house with the white picket fence, a beautiful wife and children). 

Chris wasn’t so sure - people didn’t want to see the real him - the guy who hated parties and crowds, who couldn’t do anything without his dad breathing down his fucking neck, who was so petrified of letting people down and not being perfect that it gave him panic attacks. Nobody asked him what he wanted to do after school and sometimes (just sometimes) he would let himself imagine a future away from Hawkins and all the stress. 

Enter stage left: 

Ellie was known to be the school dealer. She even had a system; people would drop a note in her locker with a time and place and she would meet them, easy peasy. Her rules? Cash only, not on a night when she had Hellfire, and absolutely no questions. She didn’t give a shit about why they wanted the weed or who they wanted to impress, she just wanted to get in and out with zero complications. Selling weed was not something she wanted to do forever but it meant she could save up for if - no, when - she graduated. 

She couldn’t exactly get a normal job packing groceries because the whole town thought she was a good-for-nothing junkie who would steal from the tills rather than do an honest day’s labour, and she was too young to work in the factory with her aunt. 

Some of the money went towards helping her aunt with the bills. Wendy took her in when she was still a kid and her parents split in the middle of the night without even a goodbye or see you later. Wendy was a confirmed spinster and worked a lot so Ellie often had the trailer to herself, but they made it work. She was nice, sturdy, calm; a good balance to Ellie’s puzzling inner chaos. 

(she tried explaining to Mr Kelley about her crazy brain and how sometimes it wouldn’t let her focus but he just told her to lay off the pot, which to be fair wasn’t terrible advice overall). 

So when Ellie arrived at school (late as usual) and found a neatly folded note in her locker she didn’t really give it much thought until she saw the initials at the bottom - C.C.

No fucking way…

But it had to be him because who else would write please and thank you in a drug note then the resident goody-two-shoes Chris Cunningham? 

She only had one class with Chris - English (her worst and seemingly his best) - and he was different from the other douchebag jocks. He never once picked on her or called her a freak and even told the cheerleader Patty to lay off when she tried stealing her notes. He’d smiled and given her a little nod as to say ‘it’s cool’ and for a second he made her believe it. That was the thing about Chris: he was nice, he was kind, and he never told a lie. 

(it was no wonder she struggled in that class, but she would rather die than tell judgy ol’ Mr O'Donnell about it).

Chris had a killer smile too - though his front tooth was slightly crooked (which somehow made it even better?) - and the bluest eyes she ever saw. He was also ripped. He must work out a lot because his arms looked like they could easily toss you over his strong shoulder or rip a phonebook in half. Not that she’d noticed, obviously, but the scribbles in the bathroom stalls went on and on about his muscles, his shoe size, his (perfect) butt. To her absolutely shame (and she would never ever admit it even under torture) she once imagined in class how nice it might be to be held by those arms. Ugh. 

Sure she was an outcast and liked traditionally unfeminine pursuits, but she was still a girl. She had hormones and feelings and all the crazy stuff that made teenage years super fun. 

(and yeah Chris had once cheered for her during a stupid talent contest in middle school but that was years ago and he was only being nice). 

It would never happen, this wasn’t The Breakfast Club (Wendy loved these kinds of films - she would drag Ellie to the video rental place every weekend for a new one. Ellie liked Robin who worked there (he was pretty outlandish too) but former ‘It Girl’ Stacey was intimidating as fuck. She had no idea how the two were friends). 

Chris was a solid 9 whereas she was a 3 on a good day if she stopped doing weird shit to her hair. He might be Emilio Estevez but she was no Ally Sheedy. 

Even if she wanted to suddenly change her clothes and slap on some make up (seriously, what was that ending?), those big strong arms were busy hugging his actual girlfriend Jackie Carver (and carrying her books, opening doors for her, probably opening goddamn jars too). Jackie Carver was head cheerleader and the darling of the school. She was the perfect match for Chris in every conceivable way; church going, wholesome, sickeningly rich. Apart from the occasional teasing, the jocks tended to leave Ellie alone for the most part but the cheerleaders were another matter entirely. They loathed her - and to be fair, she hated them right back. Jackie was the ringleader and Ellie simply loved getting a rise out of her.

(this wasn’t hard to do; she only had to mention how she was joining a Satan-worshipping cult and little Miss Carver would hiss like an alley cat). 

So yeah, in conclusion Chris was a good guy and the last person she would ever expect to ask for drugs. It almost made her want to break rule number three. 

His note asked to meet at the abandoned picnic bench during lunch period which meant she had to wolf down her sandwich and get a move on. She told her little sheepies with a wink she had private business to attend to and left before they could give her any sass (Dusty was seriously showing too much attitude for her own good). Her bandmates only nodded, well used to her side-hustle. 

As she walked through the trees she had a fleeting thought that this could be a prank or a set up. Were the cheerleaders waiting to jump her and steal her stash or tip another slushie down the front of her shirt? (that was a seriously shit day). Would Queen Bee Jackie be waiting instead of her prized King? 

Ellie was too scrawny to be a fighter, but her dad had done at least one useful thing in teaching her how to throw a punch (when he still gave a shit) and she was scrappy. She could also read people and situations well. She kinda’ had to. As a girl dealer in 80’s Indiana it was crucial she could make speedy decisions on whether best to fight or fly. 

She decided to run at the first sight of a green and orange pom pom. 

And maybe a tiny part of her was quite interested to meet Cunningham alone in the woods. 

**

Chris was going insane…or maybe not insane exactly, but he was definitely on the edge of some kind of nervous breakdown. His head was pounding and he was so damn tired from all the restless nights. He hadn’t felt this bad since freshman year when he was trying to beef up enough to make the team (months of eating nothing but carbs and protein shakes/constant calorie counting/early morning runs that made him want to puke his guts out). 

He needed some kind of relief. 

Painkillers did nothing and he wouldn’t go near his mom’s valium in case she noticed (though the odds of that were…yeah). He saw Mr Kelley at their weekly therapy sessions but it would sound so dumb if he started bringing up the strange ticking noises and dreams that seemed more like hallucinations. It was too dangerous anyway; he'd probably tell his coach who would then blab to his parents. Then he’d really get it in the neck. His parents hated anything out of the ordinary. He could already hear his dad calling him a punk, a loser, and an embarrassment. 

“Chrissss,” he’d say, dragging it out like he always did when he was mad. “I’ve worked hard to give you and your sister everything. Now you want to wreck it all by crying about feelings like some girl? Get a grip, son. A real man knows who he is and what he wants out of life. Don’t let me down.”

In the end it was a teammate who suggested Ellie Munson. He told him about the note system too. He warned Chris that Ellie was creepy and to be careful, even if she did sell decent pot. She wasn’t the kind of girl you wanted to know.

He was anxious as hell as he walked to the meeting spot, and more so when he got there and saw…no one. 

Damn. Had she not seen the note? Or maybe she just didn’t want to sell to him? He didn’t really know Ellie personally but being a high-school athlete came hand in hand with a certain…reputation. Perhaps she thought he was just another cliche dumb jock looking to make trouble?

(he knew the guys gave her a hard time and tried to intervene when he saw it. He hated bullies - they reminded him of his crappy dad - but yeah, he could probably do more if he was honest with himself. It was hard when Ellie basically gave the finger to anyone who even approached her though). 

With a sigh, he decided to head back. This was all probably a bad idea anyway; he’d never even touched a joint before and if his parents or coach or Jackie found out they’d seriously kill him. His perfectly curated image would be in shatters. 

And Jackie could be really cold when she wanted to be. It always made him feel like he was walking on eggshells. 

But then Chris heard that creepy ticking noise again and he flinched back. 

Then a snap.

He whirled around and came face to face with Ellie Munson, who held her hands up. “Woah…hey…sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”

Chris nodded but he kept back. The ticking had stopped but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t start back up again. God, he really was going insane. He’d end up like Jack Nicholson in that creepy film with the white straight jackets at this rate. 

Ellie sat down at the table and placed a black lunchbox next to her. “There's, uh... There's nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here. We're safe. I promise.”

Chris looked at her properly. Ellie Munson was known about school to be wild and weird and most people avoided her. She looked weird in her black ripped jeans, leather jacket, and faded denim vest covered with band patches and pins. Even her leather boots were scuffed and way too big to belong to her. Her hair was wild too; an explosion of messy brown curls that fell to her waist with a knotted bandana (failing) to keep it away from her face. She didn’t wear makeup like Jackie but he noticed three heavy silver rings on her fingers (again, way too big for her). Her ears were heavily pierced and…yeah…one even had a safety pin through it. 

He knew she liked to kick up a fuss in the cafeteria and make loud bizarre speeches about inequality and feminist rights, she never ever attended class (when she did she preferred to sleep in the back row), and could swear like a biker. She also protected a flock of freshmen like a mother hen. So yeah weird but she wore it well. She wore it in a way that proclaimed proudly she didn’t give a shit what other people thought about her, which was…actually pretty cool. 

Ellie’s boldness and shere cheek should by all rights freak him out, but it didn’t. Instead he felt a strange twist of jealousy in his chest; he’d love to borrow that nerve and tell the people around him to leave him the hell alone. 

So when she told him they were safe, he found himself believing her (even though she was like half his height and he definitely bench pressed heavier weights than her). Strange.   

“So, how does this work exactly?” he asked, sitting down too. 

“Oh, just like any other old sale, except, uh, cash only, and, uh, for obvious reasons, no receipts. I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... 20. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last a while.”

Another snap. He shuddered and rubbed his temples. 

“Hey, uh, we don't need to do this. Just give me the word and I'll walk away. Okay?”

She was looking at him with something like real concern flashing in her brown eyes. He felt oddly touched. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at him like that.  

“It's not that. I don't want you to go. It's just…” he took a deep breath to steady himself. “Do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?” 

He half expected her to leg it but to his surprise Ellie just grinned. Up close, he noticed a dimple in her left cheek which was pretty cute. 

“Um, you know, just... on a daily basis. I feel like I'm losing my mind right now doing a drսg deal with Chris Cunningham, the King of Hawkins High.” 

Chris could feel his cheeks burning - he hated being called that. That was all Jackie’s doing. She had big plans that they were going to be crowned at prom and then probably marry right out of school and…ugh. He was about to say so when Ellie went on…

“You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... hung out.”

“I'm sorry. I…”

“That's okay.”

Before he could say another word, Ellie launched herself back off the table and he sprang to his feet to…help? Catch her? Check she was ok? But Ellie was grinning again and he found it so infectious that he smiled right back. 

“I wouldn't remember me either, Chris. Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?” she laughed. There were brown and gold leaves in her hair but instead of fixing it (like Jackie might’ve) she shook it out and seemed totally unfazed. “You don't remember me?”

“I’m sorry!” Chris laughed. 

“Middle school, talent show? You were doing the basketball thing. You know, the... dribbling… thing you do. It was pretty cool, actually. And I... I was with my band.” 

Then it hit him. “Corroded Coffin! Yes, of course. With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I dunno. You're a freak.”

Ellie was beaming and Chris sat back down on the edge of the table to watch her. If anyone else called him a freak he might’ve been offended but Ellie said it like it was a badge of honour. Her dimple was back. 

A vague memory of a tiny girl with patched dungarees holding a guitar suddenly came back to him. She’d been waiting to go out on stage with her friends, terrified and clearly falling to bits with nerves. Chris had smiled and wished her luck, and afterwards whooped and clapped so hard he thought his hands might fall off. His dad had ripped him to shreds for his own performance - but her little crooked smile and twinkling eyes stayed with him. “No, you just... You looked so... Different?” 

“Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was shorter and I had braces, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet.”

She tugged at the neck of her shirt (with Hellfire written across the front) and he spotted a line of black ink just underneath her collarbone. He knew some girls got tattoos - not any of the girls he knew, of course - and Ellie implied she had more than one. He felt himself blush again when he realised he wanted to see more. Which would obviously be really inappropriate and creepy. 

He was very aware of the fact they were all alone and he was significantly bigger than her, even if Ellie didn’t seem to notice. He dragged his gaze back to the safety of her face. 

Thankfully his voice didn’t betray any of what he was feeling. “You played guitar, right?”

“Uh-huh. Still do. Still do. You should come see us. Uh, we play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. It's pretty cool. We... We actually get a crowd of about five drunks. It's not exactly the Garden, but you gotta start somewhere, right?”

He was surprised she was allowed to go to The Hideout at all with drunk guys - let alone to play in a band. Maybe her boyfriend went along to keep her safe? Chris didn’t even know her that well and he wanted to. “You know, you're not what I thought you'd be like.” 

“Mean and scary?” 

That’s what Jackie or his friends would say. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah, well, I actually kinda thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too.” 

He actually snorted at that. “Me?”

Ellie laughed and when she laughed she did it properly - lips wide, eyes bright, her head tossed back. It was so incredibly animated and warm and real that it made Chris want to huddle closer to her flame. She perched on the seat beside him and opened up the lunchbox. 

“Terrifying. Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so... Twenty-five percent discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, you know.”

Oh right. Drugs. He’d almost forgotten. He’d enjoyed speaking to her so much (and watching her - she was more interesting to look at than anyone else he knew) that for a brief wonderful moment the ticking and spiders and nightmares vanished. 

But they came back back now and he felt himself physically recoil. 

“Do you have anything maybe stronger?”

He didn’t think anything shocked Ellie Munson, but that sure did. 

**

Right. So perfect wholesome Chris Cunningham was sitting in her crappy van and they were driving back to her trailer. 

He said he wanted something harder than weed and Ellie said yes but obviously didn’t keep that kind of thing at school. She offered to meet him the following day (same time, same place, even though it was a Saturday) but Chris had looked so serious when he asked if he could please possibly get it tonight after the game and her club meeting. She’d been too taken back by the intensity in his eyes to say anything other than yes, honestly. So they met later that evening by her van and he actually opened the door for her. Ellie couldn’t remember anyone ever doing that kind of thing for her before. 

(she’d had a short-lived daliance with a boy from her art class and he’d brought her roses and candy, but the next day he was sucking face with a girl from their photography class who put out, so it wasn’t really what you’d call meaningful).

She thanked him and hopped up into the driver’s seat (damn it, she was too short for anything elegant) and Chris slid in beside her. He was polite enough not to mention the many takeout coffee cups, the spare and broken tapes cluttering the floor, or the very used mattress in the back (used for when she needed to transport band equipment). He said his own car was in the shop right now and he’d caught a lift this morning. 

“Seriously, I’m not trying to make a move or anything…I just need something to help, you know?”

It hadn’t even crossed her simple puny mind that Chris might have any ulterior motive to coming back to her trailer. Maybe some guys might but that didn’t seem to be his style. 

“Am I your piece of rough, Cunningham? Not worried one of your team mates might see you slumming it with me?” Ellie said, only part joking. 

Chris blushed and rolled his eyes. “You make me sound like a total prude. Aren’t you worried about your badass image being tanked by me?” 

She liked it when he blushed. Luckily with his pale skin and colouring, he had no chance at masking it. 

“Glad you brought it up actually, can you duck down ‘til we get out the gates? One look at that letterman jacket and my scary reputation is kaput,” she smirked. She turned on the radio and heavy metal music blasted out from the speakers. She thought he might ask to turn it down and was pleasantly surprised when he said he didn’t mind it. “Sorry, I don’t have any Cyndi Lauper or Billy Joel…”

“Get lost,” he laughed. “Do not start quoting Uptown Girl (Boy) at me, Munson.” 

It was almost too easy to make Chris laugh. She’d enjoyed messing with him back in the woods and wondered what other buttons she could press. What got under his skin? 

There must be something, obviously, if he was asking her for ketamine. 

You’ve gotta’ cool it, she told herself. Yeah he’s super cute and remembered the band but you weren’t really joking…he would absolutely be slumming it with you. He’s not even the same species AND he has a girlfriend who looks like she could be a runner up for Miss America. 

Inwardly sighing at her lot in life, she bravely asked, “So how was the game? Did you - uh - throw some balls into laundry baskets?”

Chris looked sideways at her, obviously surprised that she cared so little for something the entire school (including the faculty) seemed crazy about, but then started chuckling again. “Yeah, we…we won actually. It was a championship game.”

“Oh…good. Glad it went well for you.” Ellie wound down the window and lit a cigarette as they neared a stop sign. She offered him one and he took it after only a split-second hesitation. 

“Thanks. We practised really hard and I’m proud of how well we all came together. It’s one of the things I like most about playing sports, you know? The team work,” he added. “Ever been to a rally?”

She’d never thought about sports like that before, it always just seemed like one big popularity contest. His enthusiasm kind of humbled her a bit. “Uh - no, not high on my ‘to do’ list, I’m afraid. I’d be too worried about one of the cheerleaders drop-kicking me honestly.” 

“Oh really? Are they…what? They mean to you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Cunningham?”

He didn’t look like he was bullshitting her. He looked genuinely confused…“Sorry, I don’t really know…”

She thought about all the times the cheerleaders stole her clothes (and dumped them in the toilets) after gym class, how they tried to trip her up in the halls, how they filled her locker with shaving foam so all her notes were useless, how they stuck gum in her hair and Wendy had no choice but to cut it out leaving her with a tuft that stuck out for ages. 

Yeah, she could see how Miss Carver would want to keep that all hush hush from her lovely boyfriend. 

“Yeah, I mean it’s not your problem so you don’t need to apologise, but yeah they make my life pretty miserable on a daily basis. They pick on the freshmen too and that really gets under my skin,” she added. “Your buddies on the team can be real jerks too. It’s why I stopped dealing at those jock parties. Those meatheads can call you a freak and ignore you at school, but after a couple of beers they get pretty shitty if you catch my drift.” 

“They’ve messed with you?”

“Tried to. I just avoid it all now.”

Chris seemed honestly shocked at that and his hand twitched like he wanted to…what? Comfort her? She felt a bit bad - he obviously had no idea about what kind of people he chose to hang around. “That’s seriously not on. Not to you or the kids,” he muttered. “Does…Jackie…?”

Ellie actually snorted. “No way, Chris. She’s your girlfriend and there’s no way I’m airing out her dirty laundry. These lips will remain sealed.” 

“But…I could try talking to her?” 

Maybe Chris speaking to Jackie on her behalf might help for a week or two (Jackie would be sure to cry a little and pout and say no honey, she’s really stupid, she must be mistaken) but then Jackie would be livid. She’d think she was deliberately trying to split them up or something. 

The little chaos demon in her brain thought fuck it, ask him anyway. 

“Nah, it would only make it worse. Just…drop it, okay? Thanks but I can look after myself for a few more months. After that? I’m getting out of this craphole and I’ll never see those shitheads again.” 

She could tell he didn’t want to drop it but also didn’t want to push her either. She appreciated that - she hated it when people tried shoving in and telling her what to do. Was it the same for Chris? 

So instead Chris sighed and ran a hand through his short hair as he finished up his cigarette. She glanced at his blond hair - it had hints of red if you looked closely, so it was more of a strawberry blonde. It was buzzed short at the back and sides, but the longer hair on top looked thick and soft. He was still wearing his game clothes and they did little to hide the thick muscular expanse of his chest and arms. As Dio played on the radio, she wondered what Chris might look like in rockstar jeans and a leather jacket like the guys at The Hideout wore. 

Probably just as great as he did in his usual preppy acid-wash jeans and sneakers. 

She tried to imagine herself in the kind of clothes Jackie typically wore (very Molly Ringwald) with her hair brushed and professionally styled, bright eyeshadow smudged around her eyes, eating fucking sushi and cheerleading. Shit, it would be like watching a toad kiss a prince but without the Disney ending. It just wasn’t her. 

Ellie kept her eyes forward on the road like a very very good driver. 

Chris nobley changed the subject. “So what’s this Hellfire about? It’s not actually a satanic cult, right?”

Ellie huffed out a laugh. “I wish. It’s just a club where we play Dungeons and Dragons. It’s like a board game but we use our imaginations. The others built their own characters but I’m Dungeon Master - D&M - so I kind of plan it all out. There’s about seven of us right now, and we just finished a pretty sick campaign called the Curse of Vecna…” she trailed off. “Whoops, sorry. I can kind of get carried away with this stuff.”

“No way, it sounds interesting!” She glanced at him to make sure (again) he wasn’t making fun of her, but yeah, he did look interested. “I’ve heard about it - it’s got elves and goblins and stuff, right? Like Tolkien?”

“Holy crap. You’ve read Tolkien? Don’t tease me now - the Chris Cunningham has a secret nerdy side?”

Chris grinned. “My uncle lent me the books when I was still a kid. Totally loved them. I always wanted to be like Aragorn with a sword and armour…well, right up until my dad saw and tossed them out in the trash. Didn’t line up with his grand plan for me.” 

“Plan?”

“Yeah…my parents are pretty strict. They - uh - have my whole life planned out for me, you know?”

Ellie didn’t know. Her parents didn’t even have plans for their own lives, let alone a kid they never wanted. She knew she wanted to leave Hawkins but after that? Life was fuzzy. 

“Well...if you ever want to sit in on a game and watch, I can probably convince the girls you aren’t a spy. You’d be more than welcome. It’s usually on the night you have practice though.” 

“Well… maybe one day I can flake? I’d like to watch you. Play, I mean. I’d like to watch you play,” he coughed. “It’s really cool how you look after those freshmen - they seem to really look up to you - makes me think you might be a softie underneath, Ellie.” 

Ellie fucking cackled. “No no no. That’s too much now. First you want to buy drugs, then you offer to ditch sports to watch my nerdy game, and now telling me I’m a softie when you’re basically a walking teddy bear? Are you even a jock? I thought all you meatheads lived and breathed school spirit, right? My dumb perception of high school is being massacred.”

But actually there did seem to be a hell of a lot more to Chris then she could’ve ever guessed. Hidden layers, and all that. 

“Maybe I’m more than a cliche. Right, Munson?” 

And he gave her such a deliberate look that she sniggered and shook her head. Point very well made. She noticed a faint scattering of freckles on his nose and cheeks that really suited him. 

“Well… you got me there.”

She turned off the main road towards Forest Hills and now Metallica blasted out of the speakers. They were quiet for a little bit but it wasn’t awkward. 

“Seriously, thank you for this,” Chris suddenly said. “I feel…more normal…more awake…than I have for weeks.” 

Ellie smiled, and this time it was friendly and yeah soft. Damn it. 

“This is such a weird fucking day.”

**

Ellie pulled up outside her trailer and Chris slid out somewhat nervously. He’d never been to Forest Hills trailer park before and wasn’t sure what to expect. His parents and Jackie made it out to be some cesspit of evil - “a place filled with drunks, degenerates, single parents” - but all he saw was the soft glow of lights as families ate their dinners and settled down for the evening. Little Ellie Munson switched off the ignition, shouldered her backpack (heavy with D&D journals), and waved for him to follow as she found her door key. She told him this was her castle and he found himself smiling, once again at ease. 

(he almost offered to carry her bag but her lunchtime rants indicated she might see this as patronising. He’d felt like a total idiot earlier when he held the door open and she’d carefully arched an eyebrow.)

Jackie always expected these things of him and got royally pissed if he forgot. It would be nice to offer for once without it being demanded. 

Ellie told him her aunt Wendy was working a night shift so they’d have some privacy. 

He blushed, eyeing the neighbouring trailer quickly to see if anyone was spying through the curtains (his mom would be). “What about your folks?” he found himself asking, following her inside. 

“Oh they split ages ago. Pops found himself a new shiny family, and I think mom’s still in jail? She could be dead in a ditch somewhere, for all I know. They don’t exactly keep in touch,” she said, shrugging. “Want something to drink? Beer, coffee, water?”

She spoke like none of it mattered but her shrug was a little too casual. 

“Uh…water would be great.” 

Inside the trailer wasn’t what he’d expected at all. It was small, sure, but clean and neat. It was also really homely looking. Plenty of bright pictures on the walls, dollar store knick knacks decorating the sides, squashy cushions on the couch. Her aunt must really like teapots because there was a whole wall dedicated to her collection. He compared it to his own sterile home which looked more like a showroom. 

Ellie dropped her bag on the couch and toed off her big boots in the middle of the room. Chris did the same only he lined his sneakers up neatly by the door (a habit). She passed him a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“You never worry about being home alone so much? Is it…safe?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright here and I can always run over to Mr Mayfield’s if there’s an emergency. He’s over in the trailer opposite,” she added, fiddling with the radio so music started playing. “Besides, when I’m on my lonesome I can play whatever music I want. Helps me relax, you know? And concentrate.” 

“Seriously? That blows my brain. I need, like, total silence to read or study. I’d love some time on my own but my schedule’s real tight. There’s always something to do, or someone wanting something.” He caught her looking at him. “Yeah I know, poor little rich boy. I sound like an asshole.” 

“Everyone’s got issues,” she shrugged. She gestured for him to take a seat and tucked some of her wild hair back behind her ear. He wondered if it felt as springy as it looked. “Make yourself at home, okay? I’ll go get the Special K.” 

She went back to what was presumably her bedroom and Chris took a sip of the water. The music coming out of the radio wasn’t Ellie’s usual madness, maybe it was a station her aunt liked? 

Tick. 

Christ, really? His head had been blissfully quiet ever since meeting with Ellie. Her noise and bustle, her liveliness, had been like a balm to his nerves. 

He found himself bouncing his leg. He tried to take a deep breath. 

Tick. 

“How long will it take to work?” he called, trying to distract himself. 

“Depends on if you…snort it or not. If you snort it…then yeah, it’ll work pretty quick,” she said when she came back. She was biting her bottom lip and holding a bag of something that looked like powder. “Look, I’m going to break one of my infamous rules right now, but I have to ask…have you ever done anything like this before? Kind of worried you’re going to spiral and get into some serious trouble. You can do it here if you want? Then at least I’ll be around to keep an eye out. My aunt won’t be back until tomorrow morning.” 

Again it kind of sounded like Ellie actually cared (or at least she didn’t want him to die in a K-Hole). Her offer relieved some of the tension in his shoulders and he nodded gratefully. 

“She won’t mind you having a boy here?”

Ellie actually laughed out loud at that and even snorted. His mouth twitched into a grin. She joined him on the couch - though left a deliberate space in between. 

She’d shrugged off her jacket by now and wore only the black and white Hellfire shirt and jeans. He could see another tattoo winding along her elbow that looked like bats. He wondered if she did them herself or went to the one parlour in town (run by an ex-biker who looked gruff and shady). Didn’t her aunt mind? 

But then Ellie was nineteen, a year older than him. She was legally allowed to lift her shirt and have whoever she wanted ink her skin. 

“She’d never believe me,” Ellie chuckled, dragging his thoughts back into the room. “I don’t have guys ‘round here ever.” 

“No way…really?” Chris raised his eyebrows. “No boyfriend or anything?” 

He pictured some tall shaggy haired guy with biker boots and tattoos. He’d have to be in a band (maybe they practised together?) and wear the same style of silver jewellery she did (now he thought about it - those big rings probably were his). He’d smoke pot and read Dune and tell people loudly to fuck off if they bothered him. A guy who could go to The Hideout every week and watch her play, and cheer and hangbang like her own weird cheerleader. The kind of guy, in short, that Chris definitely was not. 

He suddenly thought about himself standing beside Ellie with his arm tight around her shoulders. She was so small that he could easily tuck her against his side, and then he would run his fingers through that wild mane of hair. Jackie rarely smiled when they were together (or at all unless there was an audience) but he could easily imagine kissing Ellie’s grin. 

Not that she would ever let him. She seemed to like him okay, but he would never be the guy in biker boots. She probably had posters pinned up in her bedroom of rockstars and ‘bad boy’ movie stars. Girls like her went for the Judd Nelson’s - not the Emilio Estevez’. 

“Boyfriend? Me? Yeah right, Cunningham. I’m the last girl at school any guy would willingly hang out with, except maybe as a bet.” 

“That’s crazy.” The words left his mouth before he realised it and he blushed, but didn’t want to take them back either. “I mean…yeah, you’re a little different, but you’re cute as hell. Your hair is incredible and that smile? Hell, it’s beautiful.” 

Her eyes widened and he noticed how warm and brown they were. She was blushing too and it somehow suited her. He felt a little twitch of - what, pride? - that he could make Ellie react like that. 

(this was the girl who flipped off (judgy) Mr O'Donnell when he tried making her read her essay out loud, tied her own bra to the flagpole during morning assembly, who got cool tattoos from scary bikers, and stood on lunchroom tables to declare loudly liberal feminism was the only way to go and Reagan could suck it.) 

“You’re crazy. I’m the freak, remember? I know people don’t like me, they don’t ever pick me, but it’s okay. I’m used to it.” 

She was so brutally honest that it nearly knocked the air from his lungs, but then honesty seemed to be what you got with Ellie Munson. She might keep some things close to her chest, but there was no bullshit, no lying, no flattery. It was so fucking refreshing. 

“I don’t think you’re a freak, Ellie, but even if you were…that wouldn’t be so bad, right? You make it look good.”

She tucked a little smile into her shoulder. “Thanks, Cunningham…you’re one of the nice ones.”

“It’s Chris, and you’re welcome.”

Another song came on the radio - some kind of old country song that reinforced this was definitely something her aunt listened to. It reminded him of the stuff his grandad used to put on.

“And you’re in a band, right? That’s awesome.”

“Don’t tell me you're a secret fan of Joan Jett,” she laughed, somewhat shakily. “Jess from the band keeps suggesting we buzz our hair.” 

“Debbie Harry actually. Had a poster up on my wall before my mom ripped it down and called me a pervert.” 

“That is perverted behaviour,” Ellie joked. “Glad she did. Rock music is a gateway to drugs and sex and all kinds of debauchery. Look what happened to me. Can’t have you succumbing to the dark side now.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty scary. I take back all my earlier words. You keep all that Sith crap away from me. I’m all Jedi.”

He saw her silently mouth the word ‘Jedi’. 

“...after Aragorn I kind of loved playing as Luke Skywalker in the backyard with a rolled up newspaper as my lightsaber,” he winced. “Please keep that tidbit extremely super secret, Munson, and yes, I was a kid.” 

He never spoke to Jackie like this, but with Ellie it was too effortlessly easy to slip into this playful persona. She was so honest that it kind of dragged it out of him too. 

“God, think I’m in love,” Ellie said after a few seconds and threw her head back against the couch cushion. She placed a hand above her heart dramatically. “My whole life has led to this pivotal moment.”

Tick. 

Chris couldn’t help but flinch again when he heard the ticking noise and this time Ellie stared at him, sitting up. 

“Okay…so I’m definitely breaking rule three again…what’s going on with you, Chris? Why do you need drugs this bad? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Honestly?” Ellie nodded. “I think I’m going crazy. Been having these nightmares and seeing stuff for weeks now and I’m losing it. It started as just weird noises and ticking and nightmares, then I saw spiders crawling over Mr Kelley’s face in his office. I freaked out, Ellie. I ran away because I thought I’d be safer with people around, you know? But then that happened…and I still keep seeing them. Doesn’t matter if I’m alone or in the middle of class or sitting right here with you. I keep hearing the ticking noise - it’s like it's chasing me.” 

Chris sat forwards and ran his hands through his hair, willing himself to get a grip. 

“And the nightmares?” Ellie asked quietly. “What happens in those?” 

“It’s usually my parents. Mom and dad. Mom will be strung out on Valium in bed with her mouth stitched up, or laying in a puddle of her own sick by the sink. Sometimes it’s my little sister lying there instead. It happens every time and I can’t do anything to help her. My dad…he fucking stalks me like a ghoul. He used to treat me bad, Ellie, punishing me with food when he thought I was looking too thin or too fat. He used to smack me about until I got taller than him, so then he started picking on me…which goddamn hurt more. My dad - the ghoul in the nightmares - is always telling me I’m useless, I’m an embarrassment, saying I’m letting everyone down. It’s like…all the stuff I’m already feeling, you know? But having it thrown in my face every night…it’s exhausting.” 

His words came out in a rush. Ellie had drawn closer and placed a small tentative hand on his knee. Instead of feeling embarrassed by the action - or pitied - it made him feel safe and seen. 

“How can you possibly let anyone down? You’re, like, the most perfect guy ever,” she murmured. “Can’t you talk to anyone about this? You know, Jackie or a friend?” 

“They aren’t interested in crazy, Ellie. If something doesn’t fit right in their perfect little world then they don’t wanna know. Trust me. Jackie doesn’t do…feelings...unless they’re her own. I can’t talk to her about any of this real stuff. And my friends? They’d just tell me to man up, buy some weed, and get over it before the next big game.” 

Ellie looked like she wanted to say some very choice words but was trying hard to put a leash on it. 

“What about a teacher or your coach? Mr Kelley? I know I’m the last person to willingly talk to authority figures and as a rule they all suck, but this sounds serious, it’s really hurting you. And your parents…they…well sorry, but they sound like total assholes. Especially your dad.”

Chris found himself laughing at that. His dad was one of those untouchable pricks who used money and bullying to gain respect and unfortunately it worked every time. No one ever challenged him or called him an asshole like that. “He is an asshole.” God, even saying it was awesome, even if a little scary. 

“You could…” Ellie was biting her lip again. “I don’t know…leave? You’re eighteen, right? Do you have any family you could stay with?”

“If I left I’d be saying goodbye to scholarships, college, there’s no way I’d graduate. My father would do his best to wreck my whole life if I don’t fall in line,” he responded bitterly. “And besides…I can’t leave my sister alone with them. As long as he’s using me as his punching bag, he can’t turn his attention to her. Can you imagine the kind of crap they’d say to her?”

Chris sighed. He placed his hand on top of Ellie’s on his knee and the coolness of her fingers (and rings) helped pull him back down to the world. 

“I’m sorry to just lay this on you, Ellie. Seriously. You’ve been amazing helping me out tonight, and I’m just messing everything up like usual. You don’t need to hear about all this crazy shit and my nightmares. You’re a good listener, you know that?”

“It’s been said,” she smiled weakly. 

“Do you think I'm losing it?”

Anyone else might’ve said, yeah you sound crazy Chris, but Ellie simply shrugged. She squeezed his hand. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re going through it right now and bottling it up, but you aren’t insane. You’ve got a right to feel your feelings. And I…I don’t mind listening. If it helps. You’ve made my night a little less lonely.” 

Chris looked over at her and felt like he could drown in the warmth and kindness in her eyes. It wasn’t something he ever expected to find there, but he found himself drinking it in. Ellie too seemed to be searching for something in his expression, her eyes flickering over his eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

It would be all too easy to tug her hand and close the distance. To nestle his face in the crook of her neck and inhale the strawberry shampoo she used. 

**

But Ellie suddenly stood up and she clapped her hands. “Okay, you know what? No Ket. That’s now removed from the table. I’m going to roll us a joint using the good stuff I save for myself  - and we’re going to get high and talk about it all, okay? Really lay it on me, Chriss, no bullshit or pretending. Then I’ll make some grilled cheese sandwiches and we’ll feast and come up with a plan of defence, right?” 

Chris looked surprised but as she spoke a grin settled back across his lips. He really did have one killer smile. 

“You’re on, weird girl.” 

Before she went back to her room for the weed, she found herself hesitating for a moment. She tapped her fingers against the doorway. “Sorry for calling you a meathead earlier and being a dick about the game. You said about it meaning more to you than just scoring goals - and how you enjoy the feeling of working together to achieve something. Way you describe it, it kind of reminded me of Hellfire a little bit and why I like it so much. Guess we both like being part of something…” 

See? Genuine nice comment. Chris seemed to think so because he flushed bright pink. Obviously her sneaky brain had to ruin it by adding, “...we’re big damn losers, am I right?”

She hurried back to her bedroom and stashed the ket securely beneath her bed. Instead she scooped out a tin from the desk drawer where she kept the high quality stuff she bought directly from Reefer Rita. There’d be enough here for maybe three joints and she was betting Chris would only need one to feel buzzed (even though he was big, it was obviously still his first time - she’d have to walk him through it so he didn’t hack his lungs out). 

She glanced at her mirror on the way out and adjusted her shirt. She thought about dragging a brush through her hair but weirdly Chris actually seemed to like it wild? 

She had to pinch her arm. The Chris Cunningham was in her lounge and they were going to get high together. Chris Cunningham (who it turns out is a secret nerd and thinks she’s cute) actually/incredibly/unbelievably seemed to like her enough to confess about his messed up family and nightmares. 

(Nobody had ever called her beautiful before. Not even her dad or mom or aunt). 

She should probably go and buy a lottery ticket, all things considered. 

She steadied herself before she went back through. She felt like a Mage on a quest to solve the riddle of the Cunningham Curse. Sure, she didn’t know how to solve spooky haunting nightmares and banish abusive parents (she assumed kidnapping was out of the question) but she could listen and offer what little support she could muster. 

And Chris was dealing with this every single day because of bullshit toxic masculinity and societal pressure which forced the poor guy to feel he had to shoulder it alone. 

Well that could get fucked. 

“Here we go…As promised, first class pot…Chris?”

Chris was standing very still in the middle of the lounge and as she stepped closer she could see his face had turned a ghostly white. She peered up and saw that his eyes were twitching. 

“Hey Chris?” Ellie gently tugged on the green sleeve of his letterman jacket. “Come on, you’re scaring me.”

But he wasn’t listening. God, was he having a seizure? A stroke? She needed to call an ambulance. The lights in the trailer began to flash and she felt the uneasy uncurling of terror in her stomach. 

“Chris, please wake up! I don’t like this, please! Say something!” 

When he began to rise up in the air, Ellie screamed and fell back on the floor. “Fucking hell!” 

This was no seizure or fucking stroke. Something really bad was happening. 

Chris began floating higher and higher. His whole face was blank - completely void of anything. Then he shot up and his whole body slammed against the trailer ceiling.

“CHRIS!” 

Ellie scrambled back and as she did so, she knocked the radio off the side and the volume rose. Some stupid country song began blaring out at full volume. 

Ellie was crying, screaming, gasping for breath. This was like something out of a horror film, only much much worse. She couldn’t just switch this off or hide under a blanket. 

She nearly threw up when Chris’ left arm suddenly snapped like it was no more than a twig. 

“No!” she sobbed. “Chris! Stop this please. I’m scared, please! WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!” 

(remember that well-honed ability to pick her fights? To choose to fight or fly?)

She clambered to her feet somehow and stepped up onto the coffee table, reaching up as high as she could to grab at him. She managed to wrap her hands around the lining of his jacket and she pulled with all her might, but he didn’t shift an inch. It was like playing tug-of-war against a mountain. 

“Chris!” she screamed. “Please! Stop this!”

And then - miraculously - the lights stopped flashing. 

And Chris awoke with a shuddering gasp, and fell right on top of her. 

Ellie’s legs buckled beneath her as they tumbled down onto the table with a loud crash. She landed right under him, catching the full brunt of his weight, and tried to ignore the searing pain that came from her ankle as she heaved herself up into a sitting position. 

She groaned as she managed to roll Chris over onto his back. His head was cradled in her lap. 

She pressed her fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse, but her hands were shaking too badly to feel anything. 

“Chris,” she whispered. “Please say something. Please don’t be dead. Can you hear me?” 

She was crying in earnest now and the tears disappeared into his hair. What the fuck was going to happen if he was…Oh my god. 

Chris then suddenly sat up with a cry of terror of his own, making her scream all over again. 

He looked fucking insane, rabid, horrified. His chest was heaving like he’d completed a mile long sprint and every line of his body was tense. His big blue eyes were wide and terrified as he looked around them, surveying the broken table and the radio which was still blaring out music. He seemed to need a moment to remember where he was. Then his eyes came to rest on her and he let out the biggest shuddering breath. He took in the tears racing down her cheeks, the flinch of pain when her ankle throbbed, the mix of raw fear and sweet relief that was written across her features like a goddamn neon sign. 

He was so close that she could feel his entire body shaking. 

And then he was holding her in a hug that was so tight she felt she might explode, but still she twisted her arms up around his shoulders and hung on just as tightly. She could feel him trembling as he cried and tried to convey (in stutteringly split phrases) what the hell just happened, but she couldn’t hear above the ringing in her ears. 

Eventually his grip loosened and she gasped for air. 

This couldn’t be brushed aside as a dream, a nightmare - he was clutching his broken arm to his chest. 

“Chris…you’re really alright?” she mumbled. She was still hanging onto his jacket in case he tried floating away again. “Help me up, need to ring an ambulance…or police…it’s not safe. Hold your arm steady, it’ll need looking at...I think my fucking ankle’s broken.” 

She could hear the faint noise of banging coming from nearby (was it the door?) but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Chris. 

Chris put a trembling hand to her cheek and wiped away some of the fresh tears with his thumb. 

“Ellie…” he croaked. His voice sounded rough like he’d been screaming too. “Ellie…this is going to sound mad…but something just tried to kill me, and I think you saved me.” 

**

A/N: Psss it's definitely The Party at the door, ready to spice it all up.

Quick notes:

Yeah Ellie is soft for Chris and he feels safe with her.

Had to tone back some of Ellie's habits because it wouldn't be realistic or safe for her to do some of the things guy-Eddie gets up to (though really it's not safe for him either).

I changed it so the cheerleaders are the worst. That's not a commentary on 'girls being bitchy' honestly, it's just the guy jocks wouldn't physically act on their resentment with a girl but the cheerleaders can and would.

Chrissy has shown she's a nice person and would feel protective of Eddie in danger - same thing for Chris only as a beefcake guy he's able to express this more literally (as in Ellie going to the Hideout).

Yeah the prototype for Ellie's fictional boyfriend is basically Eddie and vice versa.

Did I want them to kiss? Fuck yes, but maybe if I ever do a part 2. Didn't seem to flow here and really Chris wouldn't make that move. He'd be worried about taking advantage and is keenly aware how it looks that he's alone with Ellie in the trailer. It's about the implication, guys.

Girl Eddie would be scrawny and small, I think. Chrissy is super fit and strong because of her cheerleading so it makes sense Chris would be the same.

Do I like the Breakfast Club? Yeah, a bit, but that ending was crap.

I will not do a 'She's all That' with Ellie. Fuck no.

If I do a part 2 then forgive me for the shit switching of names. Honestly - what would Nancy even be?

[bifuriouswaterbender]

A teasing look at a fic I'll be publishing on AO3 when it's done. Everyone loves Steve in glasses and for good reason. But I give you... Eddie in glasses.

Edit: Finished fic

“Oh please,” Eddie said on a particularly hot July day. “You cannot read that sign from here.” He rolled his eyes and stretched up before leaning back against his trailer. “You don’t have to pretend to show off or whatever.”

The look Dustin gave him was downright indescribable. “You’re messing with me, right?”

And that’s how Eddie learned he couldn’t fucking see.

Dustin was quick to turn him into a test subject and use signs and distances around the trailer park to test Eddie. He’d never realized how much writing surrounded him, but Dustin had a knack for finding it. Only because they were focusing on things he’d never paid attention to before did Eddie believe Dustin that he could, in fact, see that far away.

Wayne was beside himself when he found out that evening. “I should have gotten you tested years ago! All that time you struggled with notes in school—I had no idea it was because you couldn’t see the board.”

“I thought that was normal!” Eddie said, more to defend Wayne than anything else. Maybe he himself should have noticed things getting fuzzier, but Wayne had never hesitated to get him medical attention when it was actively needed. “Besides, we didn’t have the insurance, and I didn’t realize I needed to. You can’t blame yourself.”

If it had been purely up to him, Eddie still wouldn’t have gone to the eye doctor. Glasses didn’t seem particularly metal, and he’d never noticed a significant enough impact to notice that he needed them; clearly that meant he didn’t. He’d probably break them right away or maybe lose them. It was a ridiculous amount of money to spend just to make things a little sharper. Surely it wouldn’t make a big difference one way or another.

It was Steve who pitched a fit.

“You deserve to be able to see well, Eddie.” His hands were on his hips. Eddie was fucked. Hands on the hips was never a good sign; it usually meant Steve was just getting started. “Besides, if you can’t see things like the board at the front of a classroom, you are missing all kinds of things while you’re driving. Like no wonder you’re kind of a shit driver. Bad habits, sure, but your reflexes don’t stand a chance. What if something happens when you have the kids in the car?”

Eddie wished he could have had a better comeback, but the idea of endangering the children that they pseudo-parented together kind of pushed out anything else. He couldn’t even defend his own driving here.

It was another month before he actually could actually get an appointment, but Eddie didn’t have to go alone. Steve waited in the lobby area while he went back and answered whether one or two was clearer a million times, sometimes not even sure if he was answering correctly. Eventually, though, he and his new eye doctor figured it out. He had a prescription. Now he needed the glasses.

As he walked out into the waiting area, he found Steve already inspected the various pairs up on the wall display.

“Don’t bother.” Eddie shrugged to himself and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get literally the cheapest pair they have. No sense spending extra just for the looks.”

Steve glared at him and held up a little piece of plastic. “My parents haven’t cut me off yet, so it’s at my discretion to use this however I want to. We’re finding you glasses that make you look hot.”

Maybe it was the wording that threw Eddie so much. He could have handled “that look nice,” “fit current trends,” or even “suit your face.” But look hot? He didn’t stand a chance. Instead he let Steve shove pair after pair in his hands. He’d put them on, look in the mirror, and if he liked them, turn around to show Steve and the woman helping them. Eddie felt bad that he didn’t know what she was. A technician? A receptionist? A nurse? Regardless she had only pleasant opinions from herself but nodded along to every scathing response Steve had. They were damned and determiend to make sure Eddie ended up with the perfect pair.

“Try these ones,” the woman suggested, handing the pair not to Eddie but to Steve.

Steve considered them for a moment and nodded. “They’re shaped like those other ones that looked good on you, and the color’s better. Try ‘em.”

Eddie obediently put them on his face and promptly tried to ignore the gut-punched look on Steve’s face.

“That bad?” he joked before turning to look in the mirror. Despite himself, Eddie let out a low whistle. “I think we found them, Stevie boy. I look hot.”

“They certainly fit your face well,” the woman said, and Eddie was pretty sure that was the closest she could get to agreeing with him on the job.

He glanced back at Steve. “Like them?” He flushed slightly but hoped niether would notice. Doubtful when both were looking at his face.

Steve swallowed audibly and nodded. “They’ll do.”

Eddie felt a pleased stirring low in his stomach, but he ignored it. Now was definitely not the time to consider such things.

“It’ll be about two weeks before they come in,” the woman said. “We’ll give you a call when they do.”

“Thanks,” Steve said as she swiped his card.

Eddie still don’t know how to feel about Steve spending this kind of money on him. He leaned over, letting their shoulders bump together. “Thanks again,” he mumbled, voice low.

Steve smiled, like there was a secret Eddie didn’t know. “I’m glad I could help. You know it’s not about the money?”

Eddie snorted and pointed out, “You know you have to have money to think it’s not about that?”

“I know.” He paused. “But you know what I mean?”

Eddie sighed. “Yes, Stevie, I know what you mean.”

When he got the call about his glasses two weeks later, Eddie went to get them.

He wasn’t dealing anymore. (Hopper wouldn’t let him.) He had picked up spare hours here and there at a local mechanics, but they didn’t need full time help right now. Eddie was home more than he wasn’t. He tried not to let it bother him, but it was dificult not having a job when it was his fault Wayne had to patch their lives back together. They’d barely been able to keep anything from the trailer, and while government hush money had gotten them a new place, it didn’t replace all the little touches that made up their lives. Wayne hadn’t saved up much, but he was spending it all trying to piece things together.

But until Eddie could convince someone to hire him full time, he was home most of the day. At least that made picking up his glasses easy.

Once he had them on, the same woman as before leaned forward, arms folded on the counter. “How do they feel?”

“Pretty good,” Eddie said as he blinked a couple times. He looked across the store, mouth almost falling open at the level of detail he could see. Holy shit, had he been blind? Maybe he just had super vision now.

“If you have any problems like headaches and eyestrain or think your vision still isn’t where it should be, let us know. We’ll do a followup with you in the future, but you’ll know something’s up long before we will.”

Eddie nodded his understanding and headed outside. He stopped short in the sunlight, scanning the road around him. He could read store signs and—fuck, Steve had been right about his dangers as a driver—even road signs that Eddie had never been able to make out from this far away before.

After a moment of marveling, he got in the van. Eddie contemplated just driving around for a while, but he wanted someone to react to his new look honestly. He considered heading to see one of the kids, but none of them would let him hear the end of it if he “chose” someone else to show first.

Right. Decision made then. He was going to see Steve.

And Robin, Eddie reminded himself as he pulled out of the parkingly. She could marvel seeing his new look for the first time. Of course, Steve got to see the full effect with lenses and everything, so that was a bonus. He also didn’t know Eddie’s glasses had arrived today. It seemed like a nice little test to surprise him and see how Steve genuinely reacted seeing them again.

Eddie parked down the block like he usually did since his van was bad for business.

He had a bit of bounce in his step as he approached the door.

He pushed it open.

Steve made eye contact from behind the counter.

He’d been half-leaning with his head propped up against one arm. When he saw Eddie, Steve’s arm slipped.

Eddie winced as he heard as well as saw Steve’s chin hit the counter.

“Dingus!” Robin called from somewhere among the movie shelves. “What did you just do?”

Steve stood back up straight, rubbing at his jaw. “Eddie’s here.”

“What did Eddie do?” Robin asked, her voice floating as she moved closer to the counter. When she emerged, Robin stopped short. She gawked at him for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter.

“That bad?” Eddie asked. He tried to make it sound teasing, but he still grabbed his haid and pulled it in front of his face. He could see it against his glasses. That was weird.

“Not bad,” Robin promised, and Eddie peeked out from behind his hair. “You look really good actually. I’m laughing at this one.” She jerked her head toward Steve.

“Hey!” Steve protested. “Why do we have to laugh at me?”

Robin sent him a look that Eddie couldn’t read, and Steve sent one back. Apparently that was the end of that conversation because Robin hopped up onto the counter instead of going around it. “So… Lifechanging yet?”

“I can see.” Eddie personally felt that answered the question.

“They look pretty good,” Robin said, and her eyes flicked toward Steve. “Don’t they, Steve?”

He cleared his throat. “I should think so. I helped pick them out.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Your fashion sense is not a promise of anything around here.”

She and Eddie grinned at each other as Steve protested.

Robin continued on as though she hadn’t heard him. “So are you going to wear them all the time?”

Eddie shrugged. “Originally the plan was just for driving and when I really need them, but I might wear them a lot more. Obviously no concerts or anything. They’ll never survive a pit, and I’m afraid they aren’t going to be great for my cred on stage.”

“I don’t think you’re giving people enough credit,” Steve managed, but he wasn’t looking at Eddie again. Curious.

“We’ll see.”

Eddie couldn’t help his smile, and Robin grinned right back. They’d discussed some possibilities that she refused to violate best friend privileges to confirm or deny. This, though, was confirmation. Steve liked the way Eddie looked, and he especially seemed to like the way Eddie looked in the glasses.

Time for some fun.

[thekimspoblog]

Introducing myself to a new mutual.

Me: I'm mostly on here to yell about how Kim should be allowed to become a villain if/when she gets her own spinoff.

Them: Like an alternative universe? 👀 or in the breaking bad timeline

I’ve never heard anyone say that before sounds pretty cool she def would fit the roll

Me: I'd like to see her story continue after BCS. My headcanon is that she "relapsed" pretty hard back into being Slippin' Kimmy, given how clearly miserable she was trying to be a "normal" person in Florida. I also think it would be interesting if her ruthlessness found an outlet in the form of joining the reproductive rights movement; I honestly feel like it was an oversight how BCS never brought up the attacks on Roe.

Most of my fanfics also involve her going back and starting a family with Jimmy if it's not too late. But admittedly that part is mostly just wish fulfilment.

I guess I would specify that when I say "villain" I really still more mean "antihero". I think Kim Wexler works as a Mary Sue for addressing many contemporary social issues, some with easy solutions and cartoon villains to defeat, some with no perfect solutions available whatsoever; my favorite character arc in BCS was easily the Mr. Acker subplot.

But even if she is actively trying to be a moral person, it's more interesting if Kim is not omniscient and frequently makes a wrong or questionable choice when faced with a trolley problem. Walter White was only ever interested in his own self-aggrandizement, but if I was going to give Kim her own series to go on another power-trip, I'd like to see her trying to make the world a better place and failing. And even in the situations where she does help more people than she harms, she is networking with (and frequently antagonizing) many extremely rich and brutal people, so even when everything goes according to plan, this lifestyle is still dangerous for herself and the people who love her. And in that sense, even if she means well, it's still a selfish goal to pursue.

Them: That’s so so interesting, I always thought that the way BCS ended was great. It was bittersweet. But when I think about it, actually it would be really cool to have an elaboration of Kim. Kind of like El Camino where Jesse got an ending he deserved after all Walt put him through. Even so it is a little jarring to have no follow up on Kim after the end of season 6. I know that morally she is not the best person (as with literally everyone else in the series) but I can’t help but feel she did deserve better despite this. With Jimmy, I couldn’t ever see him going back to being slippin Jimmy but for the opposite reasons. He never really attempted to have any moral compass, in comparison. Which is what ultimately led to his demise. I guess the one thing they have in common is that despite their differences they’re both faced with higher powers and the system that failed them both.

Oh! Do you have AO3? Or do you upload elsewhere

Me: Yes I'm on AO3.

In the new story I'm working on, Jimmy has one job: say no to Kim. I agree he has never self-actualized, so in SK I do have him trying to find his own path. He meditates now and shit.

You can see my fan trailer in my pinned post.

I think he probably would go back to being Slippin Jimmy if Kim told him to, given that she was the main reason he stopped in the first place. But yes, the way I want to write it, even he has roads he's not willing to go down again and would leave her if she ignored his warnings.

Them: So cool :) I’ll check it out when I have time

[hidingoutbackstage]

Death Island liveblog thoughts all in one post

Oh the villain is former Umbrella. Great

Okay we’re spending way too much time filling in Dylan’s backstory. We get it.

Oh the openings credits are LAZY that’s just footage from the other movies/games/shows

Wow this voice acting isn’t great (this will persist throughout the rest of the film)

Ah, never change, Leon. Opening fire in an area where you could easily misfire and hit civilians

Yeah no you’re not surviving that motorcycle crash that easily

Also way to get around the problem people had with Vendetta by making the villain the one causing the traffic problems

Wow so many new models made for random side characters but they couldn’t make a new Jill? Cring

Gotta have a slow mo shot in all of these movies I guess

“Hi Rebecca.” “Hey Chris.” Good, unnaturally establish their names like they didn’t do that in the opening credits

Jill and Chris talking about Wesker like it’s the first time they’ve talked about it since 2009? It’s been 6 years???

Oh they mention Piers that’s fun totally not wondering how I can use this for yhsb

Lol Maria’s model being the exact same. Queen has one (1) outfit

Wow disabled villain. How original

Why are you hiding his face we know it’s Dylan

Oh so they made two models for Dylan, young and old, but they couldn’t make a new Jill model. Got it

Claire and Jill interaction FINALLY

Wow good job Death Island you bass the Bechdel test

Claire called in Jill and Chris meaning she came to Becky with the info first okay girl I see you (🏳️‍🌈)

Hehehe. Zombie sharks zombie sharks zombie sharks zombie sharks

Okay obvious Jill PTSD that’s cool

Floors just randomly collapsing. Yeah sure they do that

LMFAO THE ZOMBIE RIPPING OFF CHRIS’ STUPID TOURIST SHIRT that is unintentionally fucking hilarious

Jesus christ Dylan is an insufferable villain

He’s just Glenn Arias again but more insufferable

Leon stop quipping for fucking once. Jill and Leon are a fun pair though

Okay the aquatic lickers are fucking coooooool

Yes please have a lingering shot on Jill’s legs with her breasts in the shot too as a tongue tries to grab her. Very normal thing to do

That’s right Chris keep the women in your life who get understandably upset in check

Wasn’t Harvardville 10 years ago? Why wouldn’t people know TerraSave was framed?

“We’d help you even if you were the bad guys” followed by a Definitely The Bad Guy shot

Oh boy Jill and Leon made it to the Big Action Set Piece in all the trailers

“Leon Chris Jill and Claire” fuck you Rebecca you’re not important enough to steal data on. Even though like. Didn’t the opening credits imply Rebecca’s info was taken too? Whatever

“Let’s burn it all” is this not incriminating evidence?

AHDHDJSHDBSJ DYLAN BLAKE??? THAT’S A RANDOMLY GENERATED WHITE MAN NAME

Okay I gotta admit mosquitos is a clever way to infect people

“Arias and I did a lot of business together so you could say we were sort of close” yeah dude you’re a Carbon Copy of that man

Ohhhh my g-d Dylan is annoyinggggg

Oh noooooo Dylan is doing the villain thing where his principle makes sense but he uses terrorism to do it. “Fuck the world for being run by big corporations and evil government who don’t give a damn about the innocent. So I’m going to turn the world into zombies” fuck youuuuu writersssss

It’s LITERALLY ECOFASCISM LMFAO this sucks

You know they could actually have paralleled Jill’s and Dylan’s trauma in an interesting way. But then they didn’t

They explored Dylan’s trauma more than Jill’s. Jill’s got one conversation. One.

This tension is so fucking nothing lmao we KNOW they’re not gonna kill the MAIN FOUR PROTAGONISTS this is all just padding

“None of you know what it’s like to be forced to kill your best friend” yes they do she’s pointing a gun at you asshole

Dylan as a villain suuuuuucks I can’t emphasize this enough

Rebecca’s main character status means she doesn’t need any real protective gear

See these government agents are the good guys I swear because they say they wanna help people

Claire is honestly the only person of this group who’s a “good” person cuz she works for an NGO while the rest are government agents. Lol

“We’ve got Jill” yeah Jill was definitely the moral center of this group that was totally established

Rebecca and Jill, Bechdel test…2!

Does Maria ever. Like. Talk?

So Chris how’s it feel to finally get infected like literally everyone else in your line of work that you’re friends with? Now you can join the club. They have buttons

“Thanks Rebecca” kiss her then <3

Oh good Maria does talk

Wow Leon, calling a woman a bitch? Rude

I hope she does kill him just so I don’t have to hear Matt Mercer’s voice for the rest of the movie

Okay so the mosquitos infect humans. Why the sharks? Why the aquatic lickers?

Okay now I get the shark but again. The lickers? Aquatic? Why?

“I’ll finally atone for murdering my friend so that I could survive” or you could have just killed yourself all those years ago. Could’ve saved a lottttt of trouble if you’d just killed yourself

This Leon/Maria fight scene has way too many sound effects (we get it she’s in leather it doesn’t make THAT much noise) but also I am 100% rooting for Maria here. Matt is annoying and she’s literally just out for revenge for her father

Noooo not her titties

What a fucking unceremonious way for Maria to go out jesus christ

Dylan-shark is just HAOS…2!

“Take Rebecca and stop those drones” Leon playing matchmaker good for him

This action music is so over the top lmao

Claire and Becky you’re soooo smart you two should kiss abt it

HELL YES JILL WITH A GIANT GUN GIVE IT TO MEEEE

I’m having so much fun I almost forgot I was pissed that Jill didn’t age

“We control the drones now so why don’t we use them” um. Becky. I know you weren’t there to hear the whole ecofascism spiel but. Maybe don’t. Do that.

See Jill’s quips are good. Leon’s quips are too many in rapid succession

Oh she was using the drones to over-infect Dylan (saying this she casually threw aside a large rock)

Someone is going to say Leon and Chris assembling and using that weapon was actually intentional imagery for gay sex I just know it

That high five between Claire and Becky means everything to meeee (they should’ve kissed after though)

It is cool that all five were in a movie, no complaints there